#I hope i can make everyone appreciate her just a little bit more~

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[missdynamighttt]

↳ ❝ FAT ASS LIKE HERS NEEDS A REAL MAN TO FUCK IT. ❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ synopsis: in which, you get tangled up with your boyfriend's arrogant, infuriating, and devastatingly hot rival, katsuki bakugou and ended up fucking... one too many times.

starring: pro hero! katsuki bakugou x enemy's girlfriend! reader ⍣ ೋ

disclaimers!: cheating on yo shindo, cheating with katsuki bakugo, body worship, implied mentions of anal sex, oral sex (f! receiving, face riding), manhandling, penetrative / p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie

note: usage of "sweetheart", "pretty", "pretty girl", "sweets", fem reader, implied plus size! reader, mean! katsuki, katsuki calls reader fat but not really (specifically, reader's ass), (hopefully) promoting body positivity. really thought this song gave katsuki vibes and havent seen a fic based off of it yet. reminds me of that montoya guy watching his girl fuck someone on camera lmao😭. time to give back to my community, hope you guys enjoy💜

╰┈➤ [katsuki bakugo was an asshole.] everyone knew that. and when it came to shindo yo, he was even worse. the two had never gotten along—never would. 

which was exactly why, when katsuki walked into the bar and spotted you, nursing a drink, frustration etched across your face, he couldn’t help but smirk.

it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. probably your boyfriend getting a little too damn close to another "friend" again. just like always. this wasn’t the first time, and knowing him, it wouldn’t be the last.

this was the kind of moment he lived for, a rare opportunity to get under shindo’s skin. sure, maybe katsuki didn’t hate shindo that much, but you? you were a different story.

he sauntered over, leaning an arm against the counter, eyes never leaving you. "rough night?"

you glanced up, instantly recognizing the pro hero standing beside you. with a sigh, you swirled your drink in its glass. “you could say that.”

“lemme guess... your idiot boyfriend givin’ you trouble again?”

“…something like that.”

“don’t know why you put up with him, honestly," he chuckled, the sound low and knowing. he tipped his drink toward you, watching your reaction carefully. "you deserve better than some asshole who doesn’t know how to appreciate you.”

your lips quirked, a mix of amusement and exasperation. “and you think you can appreciate me?”

katsuki had no shame, never did. so he grinned, a flicker of something dangerous in his crimson gaze.

"want me to show you, sweetheart?"

one thing led to another and soon enough— you were in his bed, limbs tangled, gasping his name, making sure you see the stars in the sky as he fucked the frustration right out of you.

and after that night, fucking you became katsuki's favorite way to piss shindo off.

you weren’t stupid. you knew exactly what this was. but did you care? not one damn bit. he had you in his bed more than your shitty boyfriend ever did. and yeah, maybe it started as a way to get under shindo’s skin, but somewhere along the way, it became something neither of you wanted to stop.

because katsuki? he was fucking obsessed with you.  

some nights, he’d pull you into his lap, hands splayed over your hips as he buried his face in your neck, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

“fuck, i missed you,” he groaned, voice thick with something dangerously close to vulnerability. his grip tighten, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. “shouldn’t let you leave my bed, y’know that?”

you chuckled, tilting your head back as his lips trailed lower. “you’re never satisfied, huh?”

“so what?” he nipped at your skin, making you squeak. “i like my woman soft. more of you for me to grab.”

and grab he did. he was clingy in the worst way—always needing to have a hand on you, whether it was squeezing your ass, gripping your waist, or just absentmindedly tracing patterns on your thigh while you laid in bed together.

katsuki just loved how you felt in his hands.

then there are the nights when he'd lie with his head on your lap, letting you comb your fingers through his hair, one arm thrown lazily over his chest.

his eyes were shut, his expression relaxed, but every so often, his brows furrowed as he grumbled about his day.

like now.

“dumbass intern nearly blew up my whole damn office,” he muttered, eyes closed. “and kirishima kept laughin’ like it was the funniest shit he’d ever seen.”

you hummed, dragging your nails lightly over his scalp. “i mean… you do blow things up all the time. bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

his eyes cracked open, leveling you with a glare. “tch. ain’t funny.”

you bit back a smile. “a little funny.”

he exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t argue. he never really did when you played with his hair. it was his weakness, and he hated that you knew it.

your fingers trailed down to his jaw, tracing the sharp edge. he leaned into your touch instinctively, like it was second nature. and maybe it was.

“you’re really pretty, you know that?” you murmured.

his eyes flickered open again, red irises locking onto yours. there was something unreadable in his gaze—something so raw and vulnerable.

“oi,” he muttered, shifting slightly, ears turning pink. “quit it.”

you grinned. “quit what?”

“saying dumb shit like that.”

“but it’s true.”

katsuki scowled, but the way he pressed his cheek into your palm gave him away. he huffed, eyes slipping shut again.

“…whatever.”

and he loved it. the times he's spent with you, whether he was fucking you or just talking about each other's day, he loved all of it. not just because it was a middle finger to shindo, but because katsuki got to have you all to himself. 

honestly? it stopped being about shindo a long time ago. but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t rub it in the bastard’s face.

"she was beggin’ me to keep goin’ last night," katsuki bragged, arm slung lazily around your waist, knowing full well that shindō was fuming. his hand drifted lower, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass. “bet you don’t even know how to handle all this ass, huh? shame. guess that’s why she keeps crawlin’ back to me.”

shindo clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what katsuki was implying. he knew. knew there was truth in katsuki’s words. knew that every time he and you argued, you’d disappear for a while, only to return looking a little too satisfied. "you really think you're some upgrade?"  

"she does. especially when she’s whining my name into the sheets.”  

"shut the fuck up, bakugo."  

katsuki barked a laugh, shameless and sharp. he was pissed, good. that was the reaction he wanted. but he wasn’t done yet.

“she’s a greedy lil’ thing, too. always wantin’ more," he grinned, eyes flicking over to him before locking back at yours. "but look at her. how could i say no? she looks so fuckin’ perfect under me."

your face burns, heat creeping up your neck before he scoffs and turns back to grilling your ex, like you weren’t just standing there, completely flustered.

"did she ever tell you how much she loves it when i grab these—" his fingers trailed down your side, giving a firm squeeze and earning a small yelp from you. "—and i slam my dick into her? fuck her real nice and deep? moans so pretty for me, too. you ever heard it?"

and if shindo so much as opened his mouth, katsuki would throw in another dig.

"nah. probably not. bet she asked you if it was in yet.”  

"well, she's all yours," shindo said, fists clenching, clearly seconds away from punching him. and katsuki lived for it.  

"yeah, figured you’d say that," katsuki taunted. "she’s been stress eatin’ too much to deal with a weak-ass like you."  

and then, just because he was an absolute bastard, he'd go in for the kill.

"fat ass like hers needs a real man to fuck it."  

shindo looked about ready to swing, but you pulled katsuki away before things got too messy.  you could still feel the heat of shindo’s rage burning through the air. it thrilled you more than it should have. 

but behind closed doors? the same man who ran his mouth would spend hours pressed against you, whispering things he’d never admit to anyone else.

"c’mere," katsuki grumbled, tugging you onto the bed after another long day of antagonizing your ex. his arms wrapped around your waist, face immediately pressing into your soft stomach.

he worshipped you—every inch, every soft curve, but nothing captivated him more than your stomach.

he was obsessed, utterly entranced. he’d bury his face against it, his hands kneaded your sides, gripping, squeezing—memorizing, pressing lazy kisses to every dip and curve. he held your body with a reverence that bordered on possessive, like he was terrified you’d slip away.

"fuck, baby," he groaned, nuzzling into you like he wanted to disappear into your skin. “love your body so goddamn much. s’perfect.”

you chuckled, threading your fingers through his hair. "thought you said i was stress-eating."  

"yeah, stress-eatin’ on my dick," he muttered, pressing kisses against your tummy. "he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you."

“then why do you still do it, hmm?”

he looked up at you, red eyes dark with something almost desperate as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach.

"tch, you know why i do that. pisses him off. makes him realize he ain't shit. ‘cause he ain't."  

you shivered at the heat of his lips against your skin, biting back a smile as you run your fingers through his hair. so that’s what this was about. "you sure you’re not just obsessed with him at this point?”

he scoffed against your stomach, his grip on your waist tightening. “the hell i am. only thing i’m obsessed with is you.”

it was the side of him no one else got to see— the way he nuzzled into you, the way he pressed his lips to your skin over and over, like he couldn’t get enough. he'd grumble if you tried to move, holding you tighter to keep you in bed, murmuring "stay here. wanna hold ya."  

he loved how soft you were, how warm—how no matter how much he grabbed, squeezed, or traced his fingers over you, it was never enough. he needed you. it was like he was drunk on the feel of you, the scent of you. and truthfully, he was.

"love this shit,” he admitted lowly, voice thick with something almost vulnerable. he nuzzled into your tummy again, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh. "could live here."

you raised a brow, fighting back a grin as you looked down at him. “oh? you wanna live on my stomach now?”

“yes, baby,” he muttered almost desperately, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction while pressing another lingering kiss to your skin. “soft. warm. smells like you.”

you laughed, dragging your fingers through his hair. “so what, you’re gonna quit being a hero and move in here?”

he let out a gruff chuckle, turning his head to rest his cheek against you. “tch. would if i could. wouldn’t need a bed, a couch, nothin’. just this perfect spot.”

“oh yeah?” you hummed, tilting your head. “should i start charging you rent?”

he huffed against your skin. “tch. smartass.”

you giggled, brushing a thumb over the shell of his ear. “i mean, if you’re gonna move in, might as well contribute. utilities, groceries… maybe even a tummy tax.”

his red eyes flicked up at you, narrowing. “the fuck is a tummy tax?”

you grinned. “unlimited kisses. daily.”

he snorts, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. “already payin’ for that, pretty."

and you laughed, because for all his big talk, katsuki bakugo adored you. as long as he had you, nothing else mattered.

and despite the way he ran his mouth, he never let you feel insecure. if he ever caught you looking at yourself too long in the mirror, he’d grab you and pull you onto the bed, hovering over you with that intense, fiery gaze.  

"the fuck are you thinkin’ about?" he’d demand, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing, leaving marks. "you’re mine. this body? all mine. and i fuckin’ love every inch of you. don’t ever fuckin’ doubt how much i want you."

and god, did he prove it.

he didn't just tolerate your body—he adored it. and thats why you found yourself looking down at him lying comfortably on his back, eyes dark with anticipation. he was waiting—no, expecting—you to sit on his face.

you shake your head, heat creeping up your neck. "i can just lay down, 'suki..."

katsuki scoffs, sitting up slightly, his hands already reaching for your thighs, clearly impatient. "tch. and deny me a great view? cut the crap and get up here, sweets."

you shake your head again. "i just- what if i’m too heavy?"

he lets out a sharp, exasperated scoff. "for who? me? well that’s rude."

"it’s not..." you hesitate for half a second, but that’s all the time he gives you. 

he yanks you down onto his face with a low growl, his mouth immediately sealing over your cunt. "stop stallin’ and just give me what i want..."

you hesitate, subtly hovering just above him instead of lowering yourself onto his face, holding onto the headboard for support. his eyes flick up to yours, and the second he realizes what you're doing, his expression darkens.

"the fuck do you think you’re doin’?" his grip on your thighs tightens, his voice a low, dangerous growl. 

“i don’t want to crush you—”

“are you fuckin’ serious?” his voice drips with pure offense, like you just insulted his entire existence. "you really think i can't handle you? think you're doin’ me a favor by holdin’ back?"

you try to protest, but he’s already yanking you down on his face, forcing you to sit properly. his growl vibrates against you as he buries his face between your thighs. the way he looked up at you—pissed off and starving—sent a shiver down your spine.

your face burned, heart pounding in your chest. "i just— i don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

katsuki let out a sharp laugh, the sound vibrating against your folds, lifting you by your hips to give him room to speak from time to time. 

"uncomfortable? sweetheart, the only thing makin’ me uncomfortable right now is you not sittin’ on my goddamn face like i told you to."

your lips parted in protest, but a startled moan escapes you as his tongue flicks over your clit, sharp and demanding. his grip on your thighs is punishing, locking you in place as he devours you with obscene hunger.

"katsuki—" you try to lift yourself, but his hands hold you firm.

"nah. shut up," he murmurs burying his tongue between your thighs without warning. a moan escapes you as he groans against your heat, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you firmly in place. 

"fuckin’ ridiculous," he mutters between licks, voice muffled. "ain’t takin’ this disrespect. you ain't doin’ me no favors by holdin’ back. told ya before— i want you—every fuckin’ inch of you." 

your breath hitches, and katsuki smirks like he knows he’s got you. his crimson eyes flicked up at you, glinting with mischief as he devoured the fuck out of your pretty little cunt, tongue glazed with his spit and your slick. 

"so don't you ever pull that hoverin’ shit again,” he warns, his tongue licking a broad stripe through your folds "or i swear to god, i'll make you sit here all fuckin' night—"

his words were cut off by the way he devoured you, lips and tongue working so hungrily that your legs nearly gave out then and there. his crimson eyes burned into you, daring you to try that shit again.

you whimper, thighs trembling, and he doubles down, tongue curling inside you before dragging back up to your clit, sucking just to hear you whine.

"fuck, baby," he groans against you, his voice thick with need. "taste so fuckin’ good."

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on the soft strands, but it only spurs him on. his hands slide to your ass, forcing you to take everything he gave you. he’s lost in it, completely drowning in you, and he likes it. loves it. wants more. 

"you drive me fuckin’ insane," he murmured, sucking your clit into his mouth with a filthy slurp. "you’re too damn perfect, and it pisses me off."  

your fingers tightened around the headboard, thighs trembling around his head. “how is that my fault? you're the one who—"

katsuki let out a frustrated growl against your cunt, cutting you off before you could finish. without warning, he flattened his tongue and dragged a slow, deliberate lick through your folds, making you gasp.

"its your fucking fault," he went on like he couldn’t believe you had the audacity to act so damn innocent.

his lips brush against your pussy as your legs threatened to close around his head, but his grip was firm, keeping you spread open for him. "prancin’ around, bein’ so goddamn pretty. takin’ up space in my head. gettin’ under my fuckin' skin and you expect me to act normal?"

you tried to answer, but he didn’t give you the chance. a sharp suck on your clit had your head tipping back, a needy whine escaping before you could stop it. his tongue slid through your folds again, swirling around your clit, and the sudden sensation made you choke on your words.

"katsuki—"

"nah. told you to shut up." he cut you off, voice muffled against your dripping cunt. "if you're gonna talk, you can fuckin’ moan."

your noises only spurred him on. your fingers found their way into his hair, gripping tightly as pleasure pooled in your stomach. his tongue worked you over with precision, switching between sucking and licking until your hips were rolling into his face, chasing more. 

"that's it," he muttered, sucking your clit into his mouth again, hard, and the moan that tore from your throat was anything but coherent, fucking you with his tongue. "you wanna run your mouth? do it like this." 

you could barely form a response, your mind going blank as he sucked hard on your clit, his tongue relentless. the only thing that left your lips was a desperate, broken moan.

"fuckin' knew it," he groaned, his voice sending another wave of heat through your body. "knew you’d sound so fuckin' pretty when you just shut the fuck up while riding my face. could watch you like this all fuckin’ day."

you let out a shaky breath, barely able to focus as his tongue flicked over your clit again. katsuki pulled back just enough to suck in a breath, his lips slick and glistening with your arousal. his crimson eyes burned into you, half-lidded and desperate, but still sharp with command.

“fuck,” he groaned, voice thick with hunger. “touch yourself, pretty girl. play with those pretty tits for me.”

your breath caught in your throat, and you hesitated, already feeling overwhelmed by the way he was devouring you. but his grip tightened on your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh in warning.

“c’mon, sweets,” he rasped, his tongue flicking out to tease your clit before pulling back again. his eyes dragged up your body, the heat in them making you dizzy. “be a good girl and gimme a show, yeah?"

with trembling hands, you reached up, cupping your tits, teasing your own nipples the way you knew he liked. you kneaded them softly at first, rolling your thumbs over your nipples, but the second you pinched them, katsuki groaned, his eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing in existence.

“fuck yeah,” he muttered, running his tongue through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth again. “just like that, baby. play with those tits— keep puttin’ on a show for me while i eat this pretty little pussy.”

his tongue worked you over with hungry, unrelenting strokes, the obscene slurps and groans vibrating against you as he devoured you like a man starved.

you tugged at your nipples, your head falling back as pleasure rippled through you. your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around your nipples as the combination of your own hands on your body and his mouth wrecking you from below had your head spinning.

“katsuki—” you gasped, thighs trembling around his head. “i’m— i’m close.”

that was all it took. katsuki groaned deep in his throat, the sound vibrating against your cunt as his grip on your thighs tightened. his tongue worked even faster, flicking and circling your clit with devastating precision, like he needed you to fall apart for him or he'd die.

"yeah?" he rasped between licks, his voice thick and wrecked. "then fuckin’ give it to me, sweets. wanna feel you cum on my face."

he didn’t slow down, didn’t let up for even a second. his hands urged you down harder, forcing you to really sit on his face, and the pressure—his tongue, his mouth, the way he sucked on your clit—sent you careening straight into your orgasm.

your back arched, a broken moan spilling from your lips as pleasure crashed over you, white-hot and overwhelming. katsuki groaned against you like he felt it, like he was the one cumming, and he didn’t stop licking, didn’t stop devouring you, even as you trembled above him.

he finally pulled away, his lips and chin glistening with your slick as he sucked in a breath, eyes dark with hunger. he gave your thighs one last squeeze before gripping your waist.

“get up."

you blinked down at him, still trying to catch your breath. “what?”

“i said, get up,” he growled. "need to be inside you. now.”

you whined, shaking your head weakly. “katsuki, i just— i just came…”

“and?” he scoffed, sitting up slightly. “the fuck that got to do with me?”

before you could protest again, his strong arms moved, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing. a surprised yelp left your lips, but katsuki was already on top of you, pressing you into the mattress, his body burning hot against yours with his lips on yours.

"don't care if you just came," he muttered against your lips, biting down on your bottom one before sucking it into his mouth. "wanna feel you squeeze the cum outta me this time."

your head spun as he hovered over you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. his hands were everywhere—gripping, kneading—like he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

"katsuki—"

"shut up," he growled, shoving your legs open with his knee. "you think i’m lettin’ you off that easy? nah. you got one, and now i’m gettin’ mine.”

you gasped as his hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them, his cock already hard and leaking against your folds. he positioned himself at your pussy, the tip of his cock pressing insistently against you.

"look at you," he murmured, rubbing his throbbing tip through your slick folds. "all fuckin’ messy for me already."

you gasped, legs twitching from overstimulation. “i— i need a second—”

“the fuck you do,” he muttered, lining himself up with your entrance. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. you’re fine.”

and before you could say another word, he thrusted into you, stretching you open in one slow, deep stroke.

"don't care what the fuck you say," he rasps. "bein’ so fuckin’ sweet, it makes me wanna ruin you."

your hands scrambled against his shoulders, nails digging in as you let out a choked sob, overwhelmed, tears pricking at your eyes as he kept moving, his cock dragging against your already-sensitive walls. “k-katsuki—'s too much—”

he didn't stop. didn't even hesitate. he knew better. knew you. if it was really too much, if you truly couldn’t take it, you would’ve said the safe word. and since you hadn’t? that meant you loved this—loved how he was using you, pushing you past your limits, making you take every inch of him.

“yeah? then why’s this pussy still fuckin’ suckin’ me in, huh?” he leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear. “you know what to say if you really wanted me to stop, sweets.”

you whimpered, blinking up at him, your face hot and damp with tears. your breath hitched when he rolled his hips deeper, making your back arch off the bed.

“you like it, don’t you?” he murmured, dragging his lips along your cheek, tasting the tears running down your face. his hands pinned your wrists down beside your head, locking you in place beneath him. “fuckin’ cryin’ and takin’ my dick so good anyway. knew you’d let me use this sweet little pussy however the fuck i wanted.”

your body shook with every thrust, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but the pleasure was so sharp and dizzying, that all you could do was moan through the tears. you sobbed, back arching, hands clutching at the sheets. it was too much, but it felt too good. 

 his thumb swiped at your tear-streaked cheek, his other hand pressing down on your lower stomach, feeling the way he stretched you open. 

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice husky as he fucked into you harder, deeper, making sure you felt every inch. “be good for me. just take it. let me use you, yeah?”

you could barely think, barely breathe, and yet you nodded. and that was all he needed before his grip on your hips tightened, his cock stretching you wide, and he really started fucking you.

his hips snapped forward, burying himself deeper inside you, groaning as your walls clenched around him, still fluttering. his hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your head to make you look at him.

“look at you,” he murmured, taking in the sight of you, tears spilling down your cheeks, the way your lips trembled. “so fuckin’ pretty like this. cryin’ for me. takin’ me like a good fuckin’ girl, squeezin’ me so tight, shit—”

your body trembled beneath him, your sobs mixing with broken moans as he fucked into you relentlessly. your arms struggled against his grip, desperate to reach for him, but he only pressed you deeper into the mattress, keeping you pinned.

“k-katsuki—” you gasped, tears slipping down your cheeks. “please—kiss me—”

he should’ve been satisfied with how wrecked you already were, with the way your body clenched around him so tight—but fuck, hearing you beg for his kisses?

that only made him worse.

“tch. still so fuckin’ needy, even when i’m ruining you.” 

his grip on your wrists loosens just enough for you to reach up. the second your hands touched him, you yanked him down, crashing your lips against his, desperate for the closeness, for the warmth of his mouth against yours.

katsuki groaned into the kiss, deep and hungry, swallowing your cries as he kissed you hard. his tongue pushes past your lips, claiming you just as much as his cock did. his thrusts didn’t slow, didn’t soften—if anything, he fucked you harder, like he wanted to ruin you completely.

“that what you needed, pretty girl?” he murmured against your lips, his breath heavy, your sobs melting into whimpers. “that why you’re cryin’? ‘cause you needed me to kiss you while i fuck you?”

you nodded frantically, another broken whimper slipping past your lips. “y-yeah—needed you—”

“yeah?” he smirked against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip before kissing you again—sloppier, deeper, making sure you’d never forget exactly who you belonged to.

his rhythm starts to stutter, hips snapping into you harder, sloppier, and you felt the way his body tensed, the way his grip on your hips turned bruising. he forced another helpless cry from you, and he groaned against your lips, drinking in every sound.

"fuck—fuck," katsuki whined, voice raw and desperate as he buried himself deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged, his lips brushing against your own as he lost himself in you. "you feel so goddamn good—s'fuckin’ tight, baby—"

you knew that tone—knew the way his voice cracked when he felt needy, when he was so fucking close to cumming. you loved when he got like this, when all his control slipped away and he was nothing but whiny, desperate need.

"katsuki—" you gasped, nails digging into his back, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "i'm—i'm close, i'm so close, wanna cum together—"

his grip tightened, a strangled groan ripping from his throat as he snapped his hips into you, his pace turning desperate chasing both of your highs. "fuck, yeah? c'mon, baby— wanna feel you cum, wanna fuckin' feel you all over my cock—"

his next thrust sent you over, body locking up as the heat coiled tight in your belly and snapped all at once. your moan shattered into a cry as your whole body trembled, clenching around him so hard its about to break him.

“oh, fuck—” katsuki choked, eyes rolling back as he lost it completely, slamming into you one last time before burying himself into your warm, wet pussy. his whole body shook, breath stuttering as he spilled inside you, groaning out your name like a prayer.

he kept thrusting—shallow, drawn-out rolls of his hips, like he never wanted to stop feeling you, even as he came down from his high. his forehead pressed against yours again, his breath heavy, his body spent.

for a moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths, your bodies still tangled, clinging to each other as you both came down from your highs. katsuki was still holding you, his grip tight but no longer desperate—just grounding. 

then, with a deep exhale, katsuki finally pulled out, rolling onto his side and gathering you against his chest. his arms wrapped around you securely, his large hand rubbing slow, lazy circles into your back. you felt his eyes scan over you with something softer than before—something almost tender.

“you alright, sweets?”

you nodded, still catching your breath, but the way your body trembled slightly didn’t escape him. he scoffs, sitting up just enough to lean over and press soft kisses to your damp forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“liar,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. only warmth. “you cried, y’know.”

you let out a breathy laugh, snuggling closer. “you were relentless.”

he clicked his tongue, one of his hands finding the back of your head, his fingers slipping into your hair, the other resting on the small of your back, holding you close.

you melted into his chest, sighing against his skin. “you’re so warm…”

he smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “duh. i’m literally made of explosions, dumbass.”

you lightly smacked his chest, making him chuckle. but his teasing quickly faded as he tilted your chin up, crimson eyes searching yours. his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away the last remnants of your overstimulated tears.

“seriously, though,” he murmured, quieter now. “you okay?”

your heart squeezed at how gentle he was being. how, despite how rough he could be, how demanding, he never once forgot to take care of you afterward. you leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm.

“i’m perfect,” you smiled sleepily. “because of you.”

“tch. sappy little shit," katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, looking away. his ears definitely got redder.  “you sure, though? i didn’t—y’know… go too hard?”

you hummed, tilting your head to press a lazy kiss to his jaw. “i'm fine, katsuki. i promise." 

he just huffed, shifting to grab a towel from the nightstand. “yeah, well, you better be. was holdin’ back just for you.”

you snorted. “that was you holding back?”

katsuki shot you a look but didn’t argue. instead, he started cleaning you up, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. he was quiet as he worked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“…was it really okay?” his voice was quieter now, hesitant in a way he rarely was.

you cupped his cheek, running your thumb over the sharp line of his jaw. “yes. i’d tell you if it wasn’t, katsuki.”

his crimson eyes searched yours for a long moment before he finally exhaled, tension melting from his shoulders. “good.”

he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips, lingering there as if he never wanted to pull away.

“cause next time, i’m makin’ you cry even harder.”

you groaned, shoving his face away as he laughed, the sound deep and full of warmth. 

katsuki didn’t say anything for a moment after—just stared at you, his expression completely unguarded. no sharp smirks, no cocky grins—just raw, unfiltered devotion.

he stared at you like you’d just hung the damn moon. like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.  

you reached up to brush a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, and he caught your wrist midair, holding it for just a second before bringing it to his lips. the kiss he pressed against your palm was barely there, but it sent warmth blooming in your chest.

“you’re lookin’ at me funny,” you murmured, voice drowsy.

katsuki huffed a quiet laugh, but he didn’t look away. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you smiled lazily back at him. “like i just saved a bunch of kids from a burning building or something."

his smirk was faint, more of a ghost of amusement than anything. he pressing lazy kisses along your wrist, trailing them down to the inside of your palm. “you didn’t save a bunch of kids. you’re just—you. and i dunno what the hell i’d do without that."

your chest ached at the raw honesty in his voice, but before you could say anything, katsuki pulled you in even closer, pressing his face against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide.

“go to sleep,” he grumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “say any dumb shit about it, and i’ll smother you.”

you couldn’t help but smile as you curled against him, feeling the way his arms locked around you just a little tighter. “mhm. goodnight, katsuki.”

and then you smiled—sleepy, content, completely at ease in his arms.

katsuki stiffened. just for a second. just enough for you to feel the way his breath hitched, the way his hold on you tightened like he was trying to keep himself together.

fuck.

that damn smile. that look on your face. like he was your whole world. like you trusted him. like you loved him.

he clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his nose, like that would do anything to calm the way his heart was fucking pounding.

"goodnight." 

he was fucked. absolutely, completely, and hopelessly fucked.

because thats when katsuki bakugo realized he was in love with you. and he couldn't do anything about it.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ tags: ˚⋆ @kalulakunundrum @ch3rryjampi3 @lotusstarr @aranikai @emmab3mma @yannvi @gabby-ha @twoplayergaymers @xanneeeyyyy @akiii143 @ceeriusly-dumb @beabamboo @butlereyepatchbunny @qyuin @ocharavitys @dragonscribble @jimabbenamara @g0dawnlita @sourgrapesthings @seraphiicallyy @aawwq @kaybug88

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Wearing Their Clothes

Requested: i followed you for succession and currently im the boys brainrotted so you wouldnt believe my excitement when i realised you wrote for the boys too!!!!! i want to request maybe hc on how the boys would react to reader wearing their sweater/tshirts - anon

A/N: My love, the brain rot is so real!!! When I tell you I have an entire folder of The Boys edits, I mean I am kicking my feet and giggling at these people covered in blood lol. Thank you for requesting! Please feel free to again, I absolutely love writing preferences! I hope you like it!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher absolutely adores you wearing his coat. It drives him wild. It started one night where you two were alone, the group split up. While everyone else had their own jobs, you and Butcher were on surveillance. It was freezing out. He noticed the goosebumps on your arms. You swore you were fine, but he could tell you were putting up a front. Oi, just take it. Not wanting to blow your cover and fight, you put his coat around your shoulders, thanking him. It's a long night and you take shifts. When he catches you curled in a ball, his coat wrapped around you, it tugs at his heartstrings. Something about this image of you just makes him melt. After that, he's eager to see it again. Realizing this, you never turn down his offer. Now you basically have 50/50 custody. You like it. It's warm and worn, but it also smells like him and, when you're apart, remains a reminder that he's always looking out for you. Both M.M. and Frenchie are full of jokes when they catch you wearing it, but Annie and Hughie find it endearing.

Hughie loves that you wear his t-shirts and hates it. Not only do you look better in them than him, which is annoying enough, and now everyone finds them funny now that you're wearing them, but now he can never find the one shirt he wants to wear. It's either on your body or in your closet. Of course he would never stop you, he doesn't want you to stop, but he does wish there was a little bit more of a compromise. You wore it the first time you slept over. Your shirt had been discarded somewhere you couldn't find, but Hughie's was right there. He tried not to show it, he tried not to get caught smiling, but he was way too obvious. Something about seeing you in his shirt made his day, his life. It never gets old. When it's laundry day, most of your clothes end up being his. Now he has double the laundry. Still, it's worth it. His clothes always come back smelling like you. When they get ripped or torn from fights you apologize profusely, but he's just glad you're okay. Who cares about a stupid shirt?

Annie has always loved you in her clothes. When you moved in together, your clothes just sort of became jumbled. Neither of you felt the need to separate them, so you really can't tell if the sweater you're wearing is hers of yours. When she buys clothes she always makes sure you like what she's picking out so that you both can wear it. No one even noticed what you two were doing, that one day you'd be wearing a shirt and a few days later it would be her turn, it's just sort of become a thing. When something gets ripped or torn or covered in blood, you're the first to make jokes. I loved that sweater, you say, though Annie knows what you really mean is it's a stupid piece of clothing, you're just glad she's okay, that's all that matters. Your favorite thing is to look at pictures where, in one, you're wearing this sweater and, in the next, she is. Something about that puts a smile on your face.

M.M. feels a little insecure. You used to love wearing his shirts. Truthfully, no one can tell what's his and what's yours, your and his clothes are so blended. Since becoming in charge of The Boys, as close to a leader as possible, he's lost a lot of weight. Grown smaller, and his clothes no longer fit you. You of course still have his old shirts, but his new wardrobe just doesn't fit. You assure him it's just temporary. The anxiety, the OCD, it really hurts his appetite. He can't even think about food anymore. Still, realizing that you can no longer share, it makes him self-conscious. Something about you wearing his clothes made him think that he was there with you always, that this was a way to protect you, as silly as it might sound. Now that you wear your clothes more, he isn't there to save you. It just adds to his many worries. You assure him you'll be safe, you'll always come back to him, but he just can't help it. You make a point to wear his older shirts as much as possible, not wanting him to worry more than he does.

Frenchie literally can't tell when you're wearing his clothes vs. your own. His style is pretty eclectic. His pants alone are bright and patterned and, to his friends, a fashion offense. His clothes are rarely organized, so you end up picking through piles to find something specific. Most of the time you have to point out when you've got one of his jackets or shirts on. He of course thinks you look better in them than him and he makes it known. Your friends make fun of you and him for some of the outrageous outfits you put together. Everything is worn in and soft and smells like him, a mix of cologne and fabric softener and smoke. Not realizing, Frenchie wears your clothes, too. Only when you ask for a shirt back or where it is does he realize oh! so this belongs to you. Neither of you mind. It makes you happy seeing him wear your clothes. He definitely styles is better than you.

Kimiko's entire closet is all black. Not only is it easy to blend in with the crowd, and it all matches, but it can also hide the sight of blood. Neither of you can really tell whose shirt or pants or jacket belongs to who, considering most of your clothes are pretty identical. Still, she'll poke fun at you every so often when she realizes you've got on one of her shirts. Is that mine? She smiles. Is it? You didn't even realize. You always ask her if she wants it back, if she wants you to change, but she shakes her head. She tells you look good in it, badass even, and you shrug it off, though it means a lot. You and Kimiko both are still figuring out how relationships work. It takes a lot of trust, something neither of you were very well versed in. Sharing clothes is just another way you two show that you're a partnership. No one else can tell, but you can. That kind of attention would normally make alarm bells go off in your head, but you know Kimiko, you know she does it out of affection and not something more sinister.

Bonus! Homelander rarely, if ever, wears civilian clothes. If he's not in his suit, he's probably naked. You've never seen him in anything else. The only time he's done it was to see Sage and that was in secret. Still, you find a way to share by wearing his cape. Typically wrapped around you after you slip from the bed, in search of your own clothes, half-naked and embarrassed. He assured you you have never looked better. Homelander likes power. He likes when people listen to him, respect him, and show him their loyalty. You wearing his cape shows him all of that and more. He never thought he'd like you in his clothes, it's just another thing he's territorial about, but he's pleasantly surprised. Now he expects it. If you forget or just don't wear it, his ego is pretty wounded. You assure him it's nothing against him. Now you go out of your way to do so, knowing it makes him so happy.

Bonus! Soldier Boy feels such an attraction to you when you wear his clothes. He doesn't really wear anything but his suit, so one day you jokingly put it on. You filled it out differently than he did, but it didn't look horrible. When he saw you, he was all smiles. The first thing that comes to mind is wanting to take it off you *wink wink*. What was a joke is now something you do on special occasions, putting it on and parading around in it. The things he says are awfully dirty and make you laugh every time. You never thought something as silly and simple as putting on his suit would end up driving him this wild. You should have known, it makes perfect sense, but you just never realized. When he does, on rare occasions, wear regular clothes, he's the first to suggest that you share. It isn't as enticing as wearing his suit, but the attraction is still there. It makes him feel like you belong to him, that you want to show that off. Nothing matters more to him than that. Nothing makes him feel more seen.

[eiightysixbaby]

the lacy black pair with the little bows

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

robin’s thoughts run wild when she catches a glimpse of your panties in class… (1.4k)

cw: 18+ only — SMUT. i guess you could argue that this is perv!robin bc she’s fantasizing about reader???, fingering, v v brief blood mention. lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i hope y’all like this!! i’d really like to do a part 2, let me know your thoughts… 👀

There’s a muddied hum in Robin’s ears; the droning voice of the teacher that has melted into nothing but incomprehensible mush. Focusing on Mrs. Click’s ramblings was a near impossible task even under normal circumstances, and the present circumstances were far from that.

See, Robin’s a good student. Maybe easily distractible at times, but she tries her best to stay focused and take her notes and do well. It’s just that today you’re making it really hard to concentrate.

You sit in front of her, diagonally to the right. And she’s always been respectfully appreciative of having such a beautiful girl in such close proximity to her, if even for a 50 minute class-period.

She knows you, but she doesn’t know know you. She knows she’s seen you roaming the halls with Nancy Wheeler, she’s spotted your name on articles in the Hawkins High school paper, but she hasn’t exchanged a single word with you aside from the time you asked her to borrow a pencil. (She had, in her nervousness, given you her only pencil and was left unable to take notes the entire class.)

It would be a lie for her to claim that she wasn’t crushing on you. I mean, how could she not be? There’s no possible way anyone could expect her not to have a crush on someone like you. It’s been pretty tame, however, just little daydreams here and there.

But today. Dear God, today was testing her limits.

The thing is, Robin didn’t mean to look. She really, really didn’t. But it’s kind of hard not to when you’re in a natural line of sight and she already has a reason to look your direction because even the back of your head is pretty.

Today, you’re showing off a little more skin than usual.

It’s a simple fashion mishap. Your jeans rode down a bit too low once you sat in your seat. It happens to everyone, right? It’s just that you’re wearing these underwear, and they’re peeking out above your pants, and it’s like you’re personally taunting her.

They’re black with lace, and holy shit Robin was a goner the instant she noticed them.

Again, she didn’t mean to look. She’s trying really, really hard not to objectify you. But what the hell.

She might as well be drooling, her head propped up by her right hand, her gaze locked on you and that scandalous little garment. Uninterested in the topic at hand, she easily tunes out the teacher’s monologue. Her mind wanders; as much as she’s trying to be good and polite and respectful, her thoughts are turning out to be anything but.

Because it’s so, so fucking easy to imagine herself unbuttoning your jeans. Tugging down the zipper, hands eager to cop a feel. She can picture the way you’d shiver when her nimble fingers cupped your heat over the fabric of those pretty black panties. She can nearly hear the gasp you’d let out when the pad of her index finger teased your hole. Her mouth nearly tingles with the imaginary softness of your lips against hers, the pretty gloss you wear rubbing off on her own smirk.

She’s in too deep, because she’s imagining hooking her fingers through those panties and slowly working them down your thighs; teasing you. Locking eyes with you as she strips your bottom half bare, letting her fingers caress you carefully. The image is so clear in her brain; sliding a digit through your folds, already soaking wet for her. Your eyes flutter closed and your head tips back, exposing the column of your neck to her teeth and tongue. She can feel the warmth of your skin on her tongue as she sucks on a section of it, only pulling away when you’re mewling in a satisfied sort of pain.

You’d make the cutest sounds, there’s no doubt about it, your high-pitched little moans ringing in her ears as she imagines pushing one finger fully inside of you. She’s testing the waters, slowly pumping her index finger in and out, feeling the warmth of your inner walls engulfing it.

And when you start to buck your hips, because you just can’t take it and you need more, she’ll throw her middle finger into the mix, too. Two fingers fucking you, slowly at first then gradually picking up speed and intensity. You let her name fall from your lips, and it makes goosebumps erupt on her skin with how pretty she guesses it sounds in your mouth.

She thinks it would be fun to taunt you a little bit, get you even more riled up.

“What, pretty girl?” she can hear herself asking you after the second moan of her name.

“Feel so good,” is your reply, your voice taking on a breathy quality.

Your body is pliant under her control, arching into her touch and encouraging her actions. She knows she wouldn’t be able to take it, letting her composure slip a little as she fucks you harder with her fingers. Your cunt makes the filthiest sounds, your wetness sloshing and squelching with each pump of her palm against your sex. It only eggs her on; if she had a tail, it would surely be wagging.

She’d start kissing your neck as she fingers you, dipping down to the junction where it meets your shoulder. Maybe she’d bite down, see how you react to it. Maybe she’d let her teeth draw blood, only to lap it up with her tongue.

In real time, you shift in your seat at your desk, and it makes Robin’s whole body feel warm. A tiny bit more of your panties poke out, your ass just centimeters out of view.

In her head, her free hand grabs your ass, squeezing the doughy flesh until you mewl into her mouth.

“Don’t stop, Robin,” you’d cry, muffled by her sloppy kisses to your mouth. Her fingers curl mercilessly inside you, and if your words are anything to go by, you’re getting close to release.

She’d keep up her pace, listening to you moan and whine with each press of her fingers to that sweet spot inside of you. She can feel the ghostly press of your fingertips to her shoulder, nails digging in to brace yourself.

“Are you gonna cum for me, gorgeous girl?” is what she would ask, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Mhm,” your whimpered response reverberates inside her brain, your bottom lip sucked beneath your teeth in concentration.

She knows it would be earth-shattering, watching you cum. She knows it would be even better feeling it happen, around her fingers.

Her fantasy reaches the perfect peak, your body trembling as your orgasm rips through you. Your walls squeeze her fingers, clenching in an erratic pattern. Your head is tipped toward the ceiling, her name slipping past your lips.

“Robin,” you nearly scream.

It’s the prettiest sound she’s ever heard.

“Robin.”

It’s a plea, a chant, a prayer all in one.

“Robin!” her name comes for the third time, but this time the voice doesn’t sound so much like yours. It sounds like—

“Ms. Buckley, are you paying attention?”

Robin’s head snaps up, her posture straightening, suddenly alert. The fantasy slips out of her brain, the images going cloudy as the classroom comes back into focus.

Mrs. Click stares disapprovingly from the front of the room, tapping a pen against her palm in waiting.

Her face goes crimson, embarrassment flooding her body. She’d been completely laser-focused on you, and she finds herself suddenly taking up faith and praying to every god that no one realized she was staring so hard. Staring so hard at your ass, to be specific.

“Y-yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am,” Robin replies, voice hoarse. Of course she hadn’t been paying attention. She doesn’t have the slightest clue what’s going on.

“As I was saying,” the teacher huffs. “You’ll be partnered with Y/N for the project.”

Robin feels herself nod, even give a weak smile, but she suddenly feels like there’s cotton in her ears. The last thing she thinks she needs right now is to have to work in close proximity to you, on a project she knows nothing about because she was too busy fantasizing about finger-fucking you.

She chances a glance at you, only to be met by your gaze staring right back, over your shoulder. You give her a sweet little smile, fingers waggling in a subtle wave, oblivious to the things you’re doing to her.

She waves back, swallowing hard.

The universe might just have it out for her.

[sirfrogsworth]

So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.

But a few people are having issues with what I said.

They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.

But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.

Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.

By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.

But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.

In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.

I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.

Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.

I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.

Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.

Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.

He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.

He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.

Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.

Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?

He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."

Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.

Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.

I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.

In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.

And those are terrible traits for a president.

[iluvmattsbeard]

down on my knees (m.s)

master list

nerd!matt x popular!reader

warnings: smut/oral sex (fem receiving)

preview: you assume matt is what he appears to be. a virgin nerd with no experience. when helping you study, you have him down on his knees, pleading to prove to you, he can take you there.

a/n: sorry i watched deadpool and wolverine. this song with the scene had me creaming. listen as you read. OKAY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. LIKES, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE SO APPRECIATED. 🤍

everyone knew who you were. when your name is spoken, it's always the same thing said. you basically had a trance on everyone, especially a specific individual. this person would freeze up more than anyone else when you're around. the hold you have on this person is unbearable, even though you've never spoke to each other. the school's biggest nerd and easy target, Matt Sturniolo. it was no shock you haven't spoke to him. you never even blinked an eye at him. you two were in two different worlds, you had no business ever speaking to him and he for sure felt like he had no place to even be near you.

it's not like you choose to not know who he is. he doesn't put himself out there, he has no friends, and he's always just quiet. the only friends he had were his triplet brothers. you knew who Chris was because of his reputation in sports and you knew Nick because he was the talk of the school ever since he came out. like mentioned, Matt was absolutely hooked onto you. when you would enter the classroom, he feels his palms sweat and his eyes are glued onto you like he's seen an angel from heaven.

despite what everyone says about you, how mean, how stuck up, and how careless you can be, in his head, you're more than that. he blocks out all the negativity said about you and in his head, he has some delusion that he could figure you out. he feels deep down, there's more to you than your rough persona.

right now, it was lunch time. Matt is sat with his brothers and their friends. Chris and Nick, despite how different they are from Matt, they've always vowed to never let Matt be alone. they try to include him in everything but, he chooses to sit there in silence. he knew deep down he didn't fit in and it's obvious his brothers' friends also knew that.

he sits there quietly as he pokes at his food. his attention is soon caught, it's like he has a radar, he looks up slightly as you walk past their table. you were with your friends, talking to them as you head over to your table. for Matt, it was all in slow motion as you walked by. he swears he can see your skin glisten and the way your hair bounced, he was in a trance. "dude." he instantly gets brought back to reality when he hears Chris' voice, "you're staring- again." Matt looks back down at his food as he swallows slightly, "was I?" he asks quietly, a bit embarrassed he's been caught. this wasn't the first time though.

"yes. what is your obsession with her? you've never even spoke to her." Chris utters with a bit of food in his mouth. Matt looks at him with a bit of disgust, "can you swallow your food first?" Matt suggests, which makes Chris chuckle and swallow his food. "okay well, what is your obsession with her?" he repeats his question, "you've never talked to her and trust me, she's way out of your league." he adds on, making Matt tense up a bit. it was true, he really didn't belong in your world. it would make no sense, the two of you colliding. "i'd save yourself the heart break." Chris speaks up again.

"how would you know?" Matt mutters, making the brother raise an eyebrow slightly, "how do I know what?" he asks confused. "how do you know she would break my heart? if I haven't even tried?" Matt asks stupidly. he knew the answer already but once again, a little part of him believes he could break down your walls if he just had the confidence. Chris laughs at his question, "no offence but, look at you." he pauses glancing over at me, "now look at her. she would crush you." he finishes as he stuffs his mouth again. there was no point in Matt continuing this conversation. Matt looks over at you and sighs. "heaven help me." he thought to himself.

later that day, Matt walks into his final class, which to his delight, you were in. he makes his way to the back of the class, sitting down in his usual seat. he begins to take out his notebook and textbook as he lets out a quiet breath. you walk in, once again, Matt's eyes land on you and he blocks out everything else. as he watches your every move, he expects you to just walk to your usual seat in the front. he then sees you walk down his aisle, he swears he's just imagining things. you're looking right at him, making his heart stop. eventually, he gets knocked from his trance as you sit in the seat next to him.

"no one sits here right?" you ask Matt, not even looking over at him. he gulps as he begins to speak up, "n-no." he manages to let out. Matt shuts his eyes and turns to face the front. he feels like he sounded like a loser. you sit there silently as you secretly go on your phone while the class starts. Matt can't help but take small glances at you. he felt nervous even though you were just minding your own business. "what is going on?" he thought to himself. why were you suddenly sitting in the back? right next to him? he shakes off the questions as he tries his best to focus on the teacher's voice.

as days go by, Matt notices you continuing to choose to sit in the back, right next to him. it was like a dream but, still no words exchanged between you two but the first day you sat there. where he thought he sounded like an idiot, even though all he said was no to your question. Matt sits there quietly, he notices you dozed off into your arms as the teacher speaks. he can’t help but look at you in admiration. you looked peaceful; sleeping angel like. you flutter your eyes open, catching his gaze as you whisper groggily, "were you just watching me sleep?" you ask sitting up. his eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head, "what- no- I was just- nervous for you." he lets out panicked. you laugh quietly while you shake your head, "relax, it was just a question." you say surprisingly okay with catching him just now.

Matt feels his heart racing as he lets out an exhale of relief. "did I miss anything important?" you ask looking at him. was this really happening? were you really actually trying to have a conversation with him? "u-uh... not really." he mutters nervously. "okay that's good. i'm like very behind in this class." you say which, it's like the teacher heard you, the teacher speaks up, "Y/n, Matt, I need to talk to you both at the end of the class." Mr. Lionel says. you groan quietly before speaking up, "okay..." Matt's head is racing. why did he have to speak to the both of you? the BOTH of you...

when the final bell rings, you and Matt get up at the same time, heading over to the front of the class. you both stop in front of Mr. Lionel's desk as you let out a sigh, "what's it about?" you ask not enthused at all. he clears his throat, "well, Y/n, i'm sure you're aware that your grade in this class isn't the best." he starts off, "Matt here, can help you bring that grade up if you're willing." you look over at Matt, your eyes trailing down his figure slowly. he gulps as he watches you analyze him, "what is she thinking?" he thought to himself.

you look back at your teacher before nodding and speaking up, "alright." if Matt's heart was racing before, it is now bouncing off the walls. alright? that's all you had to say? no argument?

Mr. Lionel looks over at Matt, "you okay with that Matt?" he asks, snapping him back to reality, "what? uh- y-yeah." Matt responds sheepishly, his cheeks a bit flustered. "great. you two speak to each other and come up with an arrangement that's good for the both of you." the teacher says, making you both nod. he greets you and Matt goodbye, Matt instantly walking out the classroom. he can't believe he was just assigned to tutor you, and YOU agreed. he continues walking down the hall before he hears his name being called.

"Matt!" he turns around quickly before locking eyes on you, heading over to catch up to him. he freezes in his place as he stutters out, "y-yeah?" he feels like his heart can't catch a break. "you want to come over tonight?" you ask so casually. meanwhile, Matt feels like he's about to explode. "w-what?" he asks a bit dazed. "to study." you add on with a small laugh. he blinks repeatedly before having the courage to respond, "yes!" he clears his throat, "yes... I would like that." he says, trying to push down his eagerness. "okay. give me your phone." you say, no question, he instantly pulls out his phone, fumbling a bit before he hands it to you.

you type in your number and send yourself a text so that you can receive his number as well. you hand back his phone before pulling out your own, "alright i'll text you the address. come over at like 5. that's when my parents aren't home." you say making him choke up, "w-what?" Matt asks nervously but you just wave at him and walk away.

as he gets in his car, he sits there still in disbelief. it's like his prayers have been answered. he also doesn't want to get his hopes up though. it's just tutoring, right? he's still confused by why you wanted him there without your parents home. it made his heart race once more. he gets pulled out from his thoughts as Chris and Nick stumble into the mini van. Matt clears his throat as he puts on his seat belt, "can you drive me to the mall later?" Chris asks as he puts on his own seat belt. "can't." Matt says bluntly, his younger brother's eyes widening slightly, "what- why?" he asks caught off guard. "i'm going to tutor someone later." Matt says, sparing the details but, that's all Chris had to know to not question even further. it's no surprise to him that Matt has to tutor someone. Matt was the smartest person he knew.

*time skip*

after spraying some cologne on himself, he walks out his room and out the house. when he's settled into the driver's seat, he pulls out his phone and puts your address into the GPS. he was still replaying your words earlier about how your parents would be out. his hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly as he makes his way to your house.

when he's arrived, he takes the key out of the ignition. he lets out a small sigh, his heart pounding at the fact he's actually about to be with you, alone. he gets out the car and makes his way up your pathway. he rings the doorbell, waiting anxiously as he looks around. nice house he thought to himself. after a bit, you open the door. Matt's eyes immediately running down your figure. you were in a matching pajama set. his heart stops, he was now feeling self conscious at the fact he's wearing a button up shirt. "hey, come in." you say as you open the door more for him to walk in. he steps inside nervously as he looks around. "come, my room is upstairs." you speak, already heading up the stairs. he follows closely behind you.

*time skip*

you both have been sat on your bed as you lay on your stomach, flipping through the text book. "s-so... do you understand it?" Matt asks, hoping he's done a good job at explaining the subject. you look at him with a blank expression, "no." you let out bluntly, a small laugh following afterwards. "o-oh well- I can explain it again-." he gets cut off by you, "no it's fine. this is hopeless." you sigh softly, closing your text book. "my brain hurts." you add on. Matt sits there, tensing up a bit as he clears his throat, "oh- w-well... maybe some other time." he says closing his text book. you two have been going over the subject for like a hour.

"you're leaving?" you ask curiously. Matt looks at you as he stuffs his textbook into his bag, "um... well I was assuming you were done..." he admits quietly. "oh I just thought we were taking a break." you chuckle, "but alright." he straightens up as he quickly chimes in, "oh that works too." not wanting to leave just yet. you sit up, now legs crossed as you look at him, "so... why did you want me over while your parents are gone?" he asks, gulping a bit. "no distractions." you respond casually. he was amazed by how easily you can speak. he feels like he has a lump in his throat. "do you always wear those button up shirts to tutor?" you ask tilting your head a bit. "uh... no- but- I just wanted to wear something nice." he stutters out nervously. did you think it was bad? your eyes trail over his shirt, "it's nice. suits you." you compliment. he didn't know if that was a good thing or bad thing. "dressing up for me or something?" you ask. "u-uh well- kind of- yes..." he sighs in defeat.

"that's sweet." you say with no emotion in your voice. "did you think this was going to go somewhere?" you ask bluntly. his eyes widen a bit, "what? what's that supposed to mean?" he asks a bit startled. "like were you expecting something out of this?" you ask, "like a handy or a blowjob or what?" the question makes his eyes widen even more, "what? of course not!" he responds panicked, "t-that's not- I- I wasn't even thinking that." he says flustered. you chuckle softly, "i'm just messing with you." you say before going on your phone, "you don't even seem like the type." you conclude. he's caught off guard, "w-what's that supposed to mean?" he asks. you look up from your phone and meet his gaze, "you don't seem like the type to do that stuff. I mean-" you pause putting your phone down, "do you even have experience?" you ask. "well... not exactly..." he admits embarrassed by the confession.

"see? I knew it." you let out a small humorous scoff. "I-I guess I just haven't had the time..." he says, trying to seem like he's too busy to gain experience, and not because he's a total loser. you raise an eyebrow slightly, "oh so it's not by choice?" you ask, not really believing it as you stand up and put your textbook back into your bag. he stays quiet for a bit before speaking up, "yeah no... just too busy for it..." he says quietly. you let out a small snark with a small grin, "yeah okay." you respond still not buying it. Matt has this sudden urge to fight back, he also knew you weren't buying it so he makes a move he never expected to make, "I mean I have the time now." he utters, making him widen his eyes a bit. you look up at him as you tilt your head slightly, "oh so you did come here expecting something." you say, crossing your arms. "no! no... but- forget it." he mumbles embarrassed as he picks up his bag.

you sit at the edge of the bed as you speak up, "no. go ahead. since you have time." you say, not having very high expectations. he freezes in his spot as he looks at you, "w-what?" he asks with his heart pounding. "you heard me." you say, propping your arms back behind you slightly. he puts his bag down slowly as he steps in front of you. he looks down at you as you tilt your head a bit. you blink up at him, waiting for his move, not amused. Matt then slowly gets on his knees, your eyes follow him, now looking down at him. he places his hands nervously on the waistband of your pajama shorts. he looks up at you and back down at his hands as he begins to slide your shorts down slowly, revealing your white lace panties. his breath hitches in his throat as he continues to pull them down your silky legs, now leaving you in just your panties. he takes a moment to admire you in front of him as he begins to kiss your inner thighs slowly and softly, making you roll your eyes a bit at how slow he's being. he then trails those kisses up, placing a soft kiss on your clothed cunt, your eyes watching him closely. he then kisses up your stomach, his face now stopped in front of your face.

he swallows before placing his lips onto yours, everything was slow and you kiss him back. after a bit, you pull away, "okay um. I don't think this is going to work." you say about to sit up completely but he stops you. he gets back onto his knees, now yanking your panties down. you gasp slightly by the sudden action as he takes in the sight of you bare. he grips under your thighs as he pulls you closer to his face. your heart begins to race by his sudden anticipation and change of demeanor. his mouth was so close to your core, you can feel his breath against it. Matt gulps as he glances up at you, then looking back down at your folds. "heaven help me." he thinks to himself before diving his tongue into you. at first, you weren't feeling it, you sort of felt bad for his lack of experience but then, he begins to suck on your clit, making you sit up and look down at him. your mouth slowly falling open, surprised by his action. he continues to suck on your clit, you feel yourself getting wet as he works his mouth. your breath began to hitch as he ran his tongue up your now slick folds.

he flattens out his tongue, continuing his upward motion. you gasp softly, quickly biting your lip. you didn't expect to be enjoying this. he darts his tongue in and out of your entrance, making you moan out a bit louder than you expected. he looks up at you as he melts against your wet folds. he watches as you crumble above him. he swirls his tongue around your clit, making you throw your head back at the sensation, "M-Matt." you moan out. the sound of his name rolling of your tongue made him go insane. the way you moan, it was like an angelic sound in his ears. he moves his tongue against your clit, side to side as you gasp, gripping his hair with your eyes shut. he begins to suck on your slit again as he unexpectedly pushes a finger into you. "f-fuck!" you moan out as he pumps his finger, while still sucking on your clit. his eyes still on you, he knows he's doing this right.

you buck your hips up slightly, starting to feel your legs shake a bit, you have never experienced pleasure like this before. Matt pulls his finger out of you as he grips your thighs, holding them in place roughly. you let out a small whimper. the feeling of his tongue was sort of overpowering. he groans against your folds, sending vibrations through out your body. his hands grip your thighs harder as he dives his mouth in deeper. he was completely in the moment, the taste of your juices on his tongue, making him want more and more. he continues darting his tongue into you, wet noises filling the room. "you're so wet." he mumbles against you, lapping his tongue up your folds. you grip his hair a bit harder as you continue to moan. you couldn't believe the school's biggest nerd is in between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

he then flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit as he looks up at you. you gasp once again, eyes darting down at him, "how was he so good at this?" you thought to yourself. he then pushes two fingers this time into you, catching you off guard. he pumps his slender fingers in and out at a quick motion as he swirls his tongue sloppily. you arch your back as you grip the sheets above you, "fuck Matt!" you moan loudly, making him ache in between your legs. this only drives him to go faster, pumping his fingers into you even faster as he sucks on your clit. the combination combines make your stomach swirl, "Matt i'm gonna-." you let out shakily as you arch your back even more, your eyes clenched shut, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as you experience the best orgasm you've ever had. you release all over his mouth as he keeps his mouth on you.

your legs shake as he continues to eat you out, despite you already releasing. he grips your thighs hard as he watches you shake uncontrollably under his touch. you swear you could now see stars as he groans against you once more. you push his head away as you look down at him in shock.

he licks his lips and his cheeks are flustered. you stare at him in disbelief as you try to catch up with your breathing. his eyes dart back down to your messy wet core as he looks back up at you, “h-how was that?” he asks shyly. “how could he act so shy after that?” you thought to yourself. he’s still on his knees as he waits for your response. it irritated you slightly at how much you enjoyed it, especially because you were so confident he would be terrible at it. when you finally calm down your breathing, you sit up and look down at him.

“what do you think?” you ask in disbelief. he feels his face heat up as he scratches the back of his neck, “uh…” he chuckles breathlessly, “good?” he questions. you push his glasses back up slowly as they were resting at the tip of his nose, “let’s just say, you are not what you seem.” you let out still in shock.

a/n: nerd matt has my heart.

tags! (comment if you want to be added)

@jnkvivi @fuckshitslover @nicksgirlfriend @mwahsturns @sturniolo-fann @etvar12 @hxnnah24 @strnlxlqve @sturncakez @sturnioloremarker @3lizaluvs @lanaswifeyy @dirtylittleheart333 @luzsturniolo @sturnpooks @sturnioq @c6ina @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @sweetangelgirl7 @fratbrochrisgf @l0vergrlll @deadiish @dykes4chris @blahbel668 @sturnfannn @schlutt4matty @scarlett-or-wtv @suyqa @strtrckrz @sturniluvr @alexisxena @fratboychrisera @unhingedrobin @edgemaster696

[moonstruckme]

omgomg can i request wolfstar or any of the marauders (literally so excited j leave it up to u) with a reader who faints when she sees blood? I have severe blood phobia and i hate feeling lightheaded but it's kinda funny if u think about it... have a great day ❤️

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: blood, fainting, Sirius on a power trip (everyone's worst nightmare I think)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 968 words

You watch Remus look down on the onion with concentrated, dry eyes. “I don’t know how you can do that,” you say, mystified.

“He’s a freak of nature,” Sirius says. 

“Even when I cut along the lines, like you’re supposed to…” You brush a knuckle underneath your lashes, catching the residual wetness from when you’d attempted what Remus is doing so easily. “Maybe you are a freak of nature.” 

Remus is more than a little smug. “Maybe my eyes are just better than yours.” 

“No, that can’t be it…” 

“Cut your tomatoes, love,” he teases. “Those won’t hurt you.” 

You scoff, grabbing the serrated knife from the knife block. In the second your back is turned, you hear Remus’ knife hit the cutting board funny. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Bollocks.” 

“Ha!” Sirius cries triumphantly, though he moves closer to ensure Remus is okay. “Who’s the pro onion chopper now? What’d you do to yourself, let me see.” 

Remus rolls his eyes but gives his hand over to Sirius’ care. Your boyfriend coos, pulling him closer to the sink and turning on the tap. 

You hear more than see yourself stumble, your feet clumsy on the tile floor. Remus’ gaze snaps to you. You feel suddenly very warm. 

Remus says something, you think, but it’s lost to the rushing in your ears. Blood drips from his hand into the sink. You watch it turn pink as it swirls into the drain.

You stumble again. 

---

“What did you think shouting at her was going to do?” 

“I don’t know!” There’s a hand on your cheek, tapping insistently. “This is your fault anyway, get a plaster on that. Or just wrap it up for now, we’ll deal with it after.”  

“Your concern is touching.” 

A sigh. “I’ll kiss it better in a minute, darling, but I’m somewhat occupied right now.” More tapping. “Hey, open your eyes, baby. Come on, I can see you twitching.” 

“Did she hit her head?” 

“I don’t think so. Just give her a second, yeah?” 

With effort, you lift your weighted eyelids. Sirius stops tapping. His thumb strokes down your cheek instead. 

“Hey.” He smiles, concern lingering at the corners. “In the future, I think we’d all appreciate a bit of warning before you drop like a bag of rocks. Okay?” 

Your voice comes out quiet and wispy. “I’ll try.” 

Sirius’ grin widens. “Attagirl.” 

“I think you’re supposed to lift her legs,” Remus frets from somewhere you can’t see him. You try, but Sirius puts his hand under your chin, tilting your head back up. 

“You can lift them once you’re cleaned up,” he says lightly. “Eyes on me, sweetness. Rem needs to stop bleeding before you two can resume gazing lovingly at each other, I’m afraid.” 

“Are you okay?” you ask the ceiling. 

“Fine, love. It’s just a cut.” 

Your voice wavers. “It looked like it was bleeding a lot.” 

“It was, but it’s shallow,” Sirius reassures you. He gives you an easy smile, thumb stroking a short line from the corner of your mouth to your chin. “You know our Moony, he loves to make a spectacle of himself.” 

You manage a little smile. “Sounds like him.” 

Remus makes a sound like a laugh that’s trying to be a sigh. Your ankles lift up off the floor, and Sirius finally allows you to look down, where you find your boyfriend with a paper towel wrapped around his hand. 

“Why is it that even when I’m hurt, you’re both still ganging up on me?” he asks. “Does your head feel alright?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. You feel yourself frown as you look at his hand. Hoping you won’t see more blood, fearing you will, worry keeping your gaze trapped either way. “Are you hurt?” 

Remus visibly softens. “No. I’m fine, sweetheart. How do you feel?” 

“I’m okay, really. I think it just surprised me.” 

“Do you realize how full my hands are with the two of you?” Sirius asks, fondness obvious in his agitated tone. “You fainting, you bleeding all over the place—I mean, Christ, how’s a man to make supper?” 

You let your eyes shut for a moment. Truthfully, you still feel a bit odd. You know it’ll pass soon. “I’ll cut the onions next time,” you say. 

“That might be best,” he says. “I hate to do it to you, sweetness, but lesser of two evils and all that.” 

“I am still perfectly capable—” Remus tries to say, but Sirius cuts him off. 

“Hush, you. Go wait in the bathroom, I’ll come take care of you in a minute.” 

Remus does not go to the bathroom. He stages his rebellion silently, rolling his eyes as he stays put. 

“Do you really feel alright?” Sirius asks you. 

You hum. “Yeah. I mean, I’m…” You nod your head from side to side. “You know.” 

His eyebrows raise amusedly. Remus chuffs out a laugh. “Course I do, babe. I know exactly what you mean. Care to elaborate for Remus, though?” 

“I’m okay.” 

Sirius waits a moment for you to say more. When you don’t, he nods, taking this in stride. “Do you think if I help, you can get over to the couch to lie there for a while? Just until I finish tending to our wounded soldier over here.” 

“It’s just a scratch,” Remus insists, exasperated, but he lowers your feet back to the ground so Sirius can help you up. “I don’t need help with it, really, it—oh, bollocks.” 

Sirius shields your eyes with his hand before you can see what the fuss is about. “Get another towel and go wait in the bathroom,” he tells Remus firmly, helping you stand. He half drags you towards the couch as you hear Remus’ cursing move down the hall. “God, always the dramatics with the two of you. Honestly.” 

[wakayrd]

More theatre stuff! I've started to put all the theatre doodles I do under a tag called "isat curtain call" because I wanted to be organized lol

MIRABELLE! Mirabelle is kind of a powerhouse at the theatre. She acts in a lot of the plays they put on (and gets really nervous before going on stage). She has lots of folks who are her neighbors or friends who attend shows and always overwhelm her with tons of flowers. She appreciates it but it can be a bit much! She's always around to help- She will show up for set construction, set decor, lighting design... anything- and all on top of acting! She's even the theatre's health and safety rep! (the little bit at the bottom is inspired by true events... yeah...)

Bonnie!! Bonnie started volunteering with the theatre recently after coming to see a pantomime for Peter Pan. They love to help out with the snack bar, and even wear nice clothing for the shows to look all professional. They also usher sometimes! All with adult supervision of course. They are allowed to come help with set decor (painting the set!) but NOT set construction. They sometimes convince their older sister to stop by the theatre when everyone else is working to drop off homemade goodies. They also like to hang out in the sound/light booth, the stage looks so different from up there! They're close with Odile, who shows them a ton of stuff. They hope that sometime they can also start doing the light cues during a show. They don't want to work near Siffrin backstage, even though that's something they could perhaps start doing now.

Sometimes... it feels like there's something in the theatre, hanging out in the catwalks, judging silently. Maybe... someone... But if you turn around to see them, they're gone! The theatre might be haunted, who knows. That seems the most plausible theory... Siffrin tends to spend a lot of time on the catwalks as well. Perhaps he'd know more about this mysterious spirit of the theatre?

The Spirit of the Theatre! (Loop!) They're always around. They're actually convinced that they're not able to leave the theatre. The hat? They stole it from the costume room! It makes hiding that glow ever so easy- Sometimes they steal coats or matching robes from there, just to make hiding easier. They're so knowledgeable in all things theatre, especially the theatre the group operates out of. Sometimes they spend their time alone at the theatre straightening up the props room or making sure all the actor's props and costumes are in their proper places. It really seems like they consider themselves an integral (and invisible) part of the team. They like to watch from afar, that's all. Meeting Siffrin was an accident, one that The Spirit of the Theatre couldn't avoid. Now they have to deal with Siffrin coming to talk to them often, even looking for advice. It's unclear how long they've been there, and when asked for a name, will only say they're the "Spirit of the Theatre."

And that's it from me today I promise I am normal lol I am having fun watching this all form in front of my eyes a little. It's mostly silly goofy stuff and as much as I'd love to stick to canon best I can, I may have to fiddle with it to get it to make sense... especially for Loop :) but if you have any ideas or stuff my inbox is so open I love talking about this- these drawings were stacked up from the last couple of days just me preparing to post... teehee!!

[copper-16]

Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow

Alexia had lost her childhood love at the last moment. Or did she?

{a/n: Hello everyone! Fair warning: I make a lot of changes about the “world” in the fics I write. Alexia grew up in Madrid in this and started out at Atlético Madrid (don’t worry she’s still the world’s biggest culer, trust), and the timing, clubs, etc are often somewhat fudged because I am lazy. If you come on here and start correcting me I’m just going to block you because this is a STORY, it’s not supposed to be accurate to real life because it isn’t real life. This starts in March of 2021, but there are a series of flashbacks. Reader is a few months younger than Alexia in this.

This story can either be: just the 1 part with an ambiguous ending if everyone is satisfied with that, 3 parts with a more solid ending, or 10 parts with a longer story structure (and I like the ending better personally but to each their own). Curious as to everyone’s thoughts are, and it’ll probably dictate how much I end up writing! I hope y’all enjoy the read! Title is from Drops of Jupiter and Spotify link can be found here!}

Dahlias. 

Resilient. 

Warm-hearted. 

Protective. 

Optimistic. 

Mysterious. 

Grounded. 

Alexia thought of the intricate flowers often. She even went so far as to plant some in a garden box on the balcony of her apartment, just so that in the warmer months she could go out and trace the petals gently under her fingertips. A reminder of everything wonderful she had been fortunate enough to have in her life, held in her grasp for just a little bit longer out in the warm air. 

She admitted it was a long time ago, but even if she tried to move on she simply couldn’t. 

—

Alexia is grateful she opted to wear pants for the event, if for no other reason than the fact that she has somewhere to put her hands. The event was on the smaller side, not quite intimate but still not overwhelming either. It’s March now in Barcelona, with warmer weather and sunshine, even if the event for this evening is held indoors. 

It was for Spotify, bringing together ambassadors of the brand from around Spain to interact and connect with the team. Naturally, Barcelona has sent Alexia and Robert along with a few of the staff members to represent Barcelona. The midfielder has spent the better part of the event making small talk, trying to be polite and sociable. These events are inherently exhausting for her, but she still understands the importance of them, even if there isn’t quite enough football talk for her liking. 

As grateful as the blonde is for the visibility of the team and women’s football, there are still moments when she has to force herself to remain appreciative. She sometimes misses the days of kicking the football around in the dirt, where the heaviness of expectations never plagued her. She misses cozy nights on the couch laughing until her stomach hurts or having someone pull her from her work, insisting that she take a break. 

The footballer struggles to remember the last time she took a break. Her life is full steam ahead, all of the time. It was rewarding and exhausting all at the same time. Even when she has a day off or a moment of peace, it never quite felt like hers. 

Everyone expects something of her. 

Everyone wants a part of her. 

But nobody wants her in her entirety. Nobody has in a long time. 

When the midfielder finally breaks away from the delegate of Barcelona members under the guise of going to the bathroom, she takes the time to just explore. The event space is lovely and spacious, with high ceilings and a gorgeous conference room 

She is aiming to head toward the restroom, but she wanders aimlessly. The brunette ends up in a hallway with a gorgeous light fixture, and she finds herself looking up at it in vague awe. She catches movement in her peripheral vision, and when she glances down, her breath catches in her throat. 

It can’t be? 

Could it be? 

After all of this time? 

Your head is turned up toward the light fixture as well, your face partially obscured by the angle of your neck tilting upward to admire the beauty of it. The dress you’re wearing is a deep emerald green, a crushed velvet material with a high cut neckline. There are draped sleeves that barely hit your mid bicep, and the cut of the gown is long enough that it hides that you’re wearing loafers over more socially appropriate heels. 

You’ve always claimed that a woman who spent her life stuffing her feet into uncomfortable shoes simply wasn’t doing life right. 

The ceilings are tall, and the hallway is nearly empty, but Alexia is pretty sure that there is a lack of oxygen in the air. 

And then you turn your head down from the lights above you, making direct eye contact with you.

Her heart stops for just a moment, unable to comprehend the reality of the moment. 

But the footballer realizes at that exact moment that it’s really you. 

—

When Alexia is six, her immediate family moves from the Mollet del Valles to Salamanca for her father’s job. Besides her Mami, Papi, and Alba, the rest of her family stays behind in Barcelona, a fact that Alexia both hates and struggles to understand. 

Concepts of a job and moving are a little far out of her realm, but she tries her best to calm Alba when she cries quietly out of homesickness. Alexia is strong and refuses to cause trouble, so she takes the move with a silent despair as she is abruptly pulled from everything she has grown to know and placed in a new environment. 

Her Mami explains to the two girls that they will return to Barcelona in the summer for a few weeks to visit family, and that they can still go to Barcelona games here in Madrid. The little brunette girl struggles to contain the disgust her face twitches with at the thought of Real Madrid, and Eli forces herself to hold in a gentle laugh. 

In Alexia’s second week of living in Madrid, she meets you. 

Your family lives in an apartment down the street, with your Mama and Papi alongside your two younger brothers. There’s an area between your house and Alexia’s for children which could technically be classified as a park because of the pathetic patch of grass inside a ring of concrete. It doesn’t matter for Alexia, who brings a basketball outside to play in the space after growing bored one afternoon. 

You were already out there, sitting in the small grass patch and playing with the flowers, gentle in the way only a young child could be. That precarious edge where you could crush the petals at any moment, but for whatever reason don’t. 

The brunette perks up, her steps quickening at the sight of you. She has yet to make a single friend here considering that school has not yet started, and now would be the perfect time. 

“Hola,” she introduces herself apprehensively, soft spoken but not exactly shy. You look up at her, surprise melting into a small smile that seems to spread through the rest of your body. 

“Hola,” you repeat, and Alexia sets the basketball down before sitting beside you. 

“I’m Alexia, I live over there. I just moved here,” she explains as she points toward her own apartment complex. You nod in recognition, turning to the opposite side of the street to point out your own home. 

“Nice to meet you Alexia,” you state resolutely, but your focus is still on the flowers underneath your hands, the  caléndulas. 

“Are you a big fan of la flores?” She questions, and you nod, tucking some hair behind one ear as you look over at Alexia. 

“Flori loves la flores,” the brunette declares, giving you a nickname that will stay with you as she pulls you up to go play basketball with her. 

—

When Alexia is seven she joins the Atlético Madrid academy, playing alongside boys her age. She also learns that you hate football with a burning passion. 

After that day in the street, the two of you have become fast friends. One could not be found without the other, wandering around the streets playing imaginary games or dancing together. You could even be coaxed into a game of basketball or handball sometimes if you were in a good mood, but never football. 

It’s strange to Alexia, because football comes so naturally to her. It is a part of her family, but it is not a part of your family. While you are light on your feet, graceful in dancing, other sports are not your cup of tea. 

You’re smaller than Alexia is, smaller than the average girl your age, and it shows when you’re trying to play games with everyone. You never complain about it, weathering the storm of fouls and near fatal injuries from competitors twice your size without so much as a spot of negativity. 

But Alexia knows that it is not your favorite, and she only asks you to play sometime. 

“Come on Flori, please? I need to practice before tomorrow?” Alexia begs, and though you threw her some sass, you quickly agreed when you saw the look in her eye. 

The desperate look on her face was enough to convince you that she really did need help. 

While you weren’t terribly skilled at football, you weren’t horrible at it either. You agreed to help Alexia because she is your absolute best friend in the whole entire world, and when she looks at you with that face, you know she really means it. 

It is all worth it when she comes home the next day, dropping her bag at home and sprinting over to your apartment. She barges past your Mama at the door to run to your room, jumping on your bed and telling you every detail of the day with excruciating detail. 

You want to listen to every single minute, filled with warmth from the clear excitement on her face. You’re happy that she is happy, and you know that football brings her peace in the same way dancing does for you.  

Which is why when Eli asks Alexia to stop playing football at school as a result of her joining a team outside of school, you are the one who covers for her. You easily vouch that she was pushed on the playground rather than scraping her knees playing football. 

The look her Mami gives you lets you know she doesn’t believe you, but she lets it slide regardless, much to your relief. 

—

When Alexia is eight, she learns of how fiercely protective you are. 

It had only been a small thing, a disagreement on the football pitch behind the school you all attended. She was playing with some of the other girls, the few ones her age who still wanted to play football. The ones who didn’t mind getting their knees muddied and running until their lungs gave out. 

Not that it mattered how much they tried, because Alexia always beat them anyways. 

You had chosen not to participate, electing to teach Alba how to weave daisy chains and making sure that your little brothers weren’t getting into trouble while they played together. You had just moved Alba’s hand gently to show her how to twist the stem of the plant correctly when you heard the ruckus. 

You lift your head, taking in the scene in front of you with a renewed urgency when you notice that Alexia was on the ground. One of the other girls is practically standing on top of her, she was so close to the brunette. The girl, Isabella, is practically pink in the face with her anger, yelling about some foul or dirty move on Alexia’s part. 

You didn’t care though, standing up in a flash and stomping your way across the football pitch to the two girls. 

Alexia is by no means a shy person, but she usually leaned toward being more reserved. She has a deep sense of justice though, and has always pressed for everything to be fair, even when it was not to her advantage. 

When she played games with Alba, the brunette would hold her dominant hand behind her back or close her eyes to even the playing field. And while she never let Alba win without reason, she was never overly cruel in her celebrations either. Especially not as one would expect a bigger sister to be. 

She did not have a chance to get a word in edgewise today, not when you stuff your body between the two girls and press your finger into Isabella’s chest, all but shoving her back. 

You tilted your head up in defiance, a positively ferocious look on your face. 

“Hey! There is no need to yell,” you argue ardently, your face twisted in complete and utter vexation at Isabella’s tone toward your best friend. 

Isabella just stares down at you for a moment, probably more shocked to see you there than bothered by the words you just said to her. You were smaller than her and Alexia, and it is rare to see you get angry or irate like this. 

“Right…sorry Alexia,” Isabella says after a moment, offering a sheepish smile before she turns away, walking off of the field over to a few of her other friends. 

You let out a small sigh as your body language settles into something more relaxed and calm. When you look back at Alexia behind you, you find her looking up at you with a tilted head and a look of confusion on her face. 

“What?” You question carefully, back to the serene best friend that the Catalan had come to know over the last two years. There is concern pooling in your eyes as she stood, brushing the dirt off her knees. 

“Nothing I…” she pauses for a moment before she shakes her head, a tiny smile gracing her lips as she lets out a chuckle. “Thank you Flori.” 

You smile up at her broadly before you turn and make your way back to your younger siblings, sitting down and going right back to teaching Alba how to make a daisy chain as though nothing ever happened. 

—

When Alexia is nine, the two of you dance together. 

You are both signed up for folk dance classes by your respective mothers, who have become powerless in trying to keep the two of you apart. The pair of you might as well be attached to one another, as if you need the other in your orbit to continue on with life. 

It’s not that you both don’t have other friends, because you do. But the connection between the two of you is strong, not understood by anyone else. 

Dancing with Alexia is different. She makes you laugh in ways you cannot quite understand, and despite being only nine years old, there is a gracefulness to her movements that the other girls do not possess. There’s an ease to your steps when you are partnered with her, almost as though you two can anticipate the movements of the other without speaking about it. 

Perhaps football has helped her dance abilities, you wonder silently, but even that might be a stretch. 

You aren’t sure it matters though, not when she looks at you with that wide smile that she only ever seems to give you. 

—

When Alexia is ten, she finds you on her walk home from football practice. Her Mami had just started letting her walk home alone, alongside another boy from her team who lived in the area. It wasn’t a far walk by any means, but it gave the brunette a feeling of huge independence that only a ten year old could possess. 

She has just turned the corner to head down her street when she hears loud, loathsome voices. 

“Flori, really? That’s a stupid nickname, just like you are a stupid friend. She only hangs out with you because it is an easy option, not because she likes you.” 

Alexia doesn’t even have time to consciously think before she sees red and surges forward, finding you cowering just slightly under the intense gaze of two older boys. They are in the year above you and Alexia in school, but they always hated the brunette because she was better at football than they were. 

It seemed that their response to this embarrassment was to take out their anger on you. 

Alexia could tell you were trying to show minimal fear, but you were a good head smaller than the boys who towered over you. Luckily for you Alexia wasn’t about to let them get away with it, and she came around the corner yelling in anger. 

The boys weren’t expecting her, and they certainly weren’t expecting the vehemently angry words that flew out of her mouth. 

You watched the exchange with a strange sense of detachment. 

Were you a stupid friend for Alexia? She was getting better at football now, getting noticed by people and places much bigger than the little neighborhood you guys lived in. She could be popular, have any friend she wanted. No longer was she beholden to you in any way. 

When Alexia grabs your arm gently, you look up to find that the boys are nowhere to be found anymore. It is just your best friend with you, her eyes scanning over every feature on your face with a furrowed brow. 

You let out a tight breath as you realize that you two were alone, sinking down to sit on the curb. Alexia joins you, taking your hand and holding it tightly in her own. 

“Are you alright?” She asks softly, and you don’t answer her for a long moment. 

“Do you think that I am a stupid friend? Do you wish you had more popular friends?” You counter, not really answering her question. You don’t want to burden your friend with your own emotions, sticking to the facts of the case rather than the maelstrom of unease swirling in your stomach. The brunette all but flinches at the question, shaking her head fiercely. You turned to inspect her face gently, to see that there were no signs of lying in the set of her jaw or the twitch of her eyebrow. 

“Why would you think that?” She prods softly, her voice only loud enough for you to just hear it. Alexia can tell that this is about more than just what the boys said. The crinkle in your brow gave away the depth of your worries, especially to the footballer. 

“I am not like you Alexia. I don’t like sports, or getting dirty, or playing with the boys. I am not talented like you, I will never be the star people think you will be. I hear them whispering about you, certain that you will be great,” you insist, reticent to a fate that you have seemingly already aligned for yourself. 

But then Alexia moves, crouching down in front of you instead of remaining beside you. 

“I don’t care about any of that if you aren’t my best friend,” she confesses with a sharp intonation, and she means every word of it wholeheartedly. 

She never thinks of herself as doing anything with football, because there is no path for a woman like her to play professionally like the men do. Even if there was, she has no clue if it is something she would want for her future. 

She loves football dearly. 

But she also loves you, and she tells you as much. 

“I will always need you in my life, no matter what. Now that you are here, you are stuck with me and I refuse to give that up. You are my best friend, and I don’t care what I do in life or who I become, you will always be my best friend Flori.” 

And despite everything that told you that you probably shouldn’t, you believe her with everything in you. 

—

When Alexia is eleven, she moves in with her aunt and uncle in Barcelona for the year to train at La Masia. 

You miss her terribly, even though life moves on. Your schedule every week is filled with friends and dance and time spent outside, but it’s never quite the same with Alexia. When you receive a little flip phone, your heart leaps at the thought of being able to talk to her even when she is far away. 

The two of you call every day, and patiently you listen to her describe every bit of frustration and excitement about football. It’s a huge opportunity to play in La Masia but there remain huge obstacles, and the program for the girls is unorganized and frustrating at best. 

You listen patiently, and Alexia is reminded all over again of how her life wouldn’t be the same without you. 

Gratitude and a strange swirling feeling twist in her belly, but it fills her with a warmth all over regardless. 

—

When Alexia is twelve, she returns to Madrid. The La Masia program for the girls has fallen apart, and she comes back to Atlético Madrid. 

She comes back home to you. 

You are unsure of when her smile started to make your stomach flutter, or when the brush of her hand against yours made your heart jump. And honestly, you don’t care. It is the most natural thing in the world to you. 

When she holds your hand for the first time and glances over at you shyly, you simply knew that your heart belonged to her, and somehow hers belonged to you too. 

—

When Alexia is thirteen, you ask her to be your girlfriend. 

Perhaps it's silly and juvenile and you two are the only ones who believe in the seriousness of it. 

She is caught by surprise at you asking, and suddenly the footballer finds herself throwing out her elaborate plan she had come up with to ask you in the following weeks. 

Alexia says yes to you, unequivocally and with a soundness she has never felt before. 

The first brush of your lips against hers lasts for a few seconds, but it’s exhilarating in an entirely new way.  

It’s perfect, as is the way her arms wrap securely around you.

—

When Alexia is fourteen, the two of you begin to experiment a little more for the first time. 

It’s awkward and bumbling sometimes, but there's a layer of comfort and ease above it all. Her lips on yours and the feel of her body next to you keeping you grounded and comfortable, ready to stop at any moment. 

When she pulls away, you find yourself giggling at the tickling sensation of her eyelashes against your skin. You bury your head into her chest, holding tightly to her as you feel a laugh rumble in her chest. . 

Even as she gets better at football and you grow into your own intelligence, it’s still the two of you together, taking life at your own pace. 

—

When Alexia is fifteen, she begins to struggle in school. 

You are the first person she talks to because she knows that you will meet her without judgement. You have always been a good student, and don’t mind spending the time patiently tutoring her. Topics that she should probably understand but do not are broken down into easily digestible ways, and for the first time in weeks her arithmetic work begins to make sense. 

She is able to continue playing without any problems, and her marks improve rapidly with her focus and your dedication. 

“Thank you Flori,” she sings as she walks out of the first session, and you can’t help but laugh at the tone of her voice. 

The footballer beams at you when you declare that your payment is a kiss for every correct answer. 

She pays her pension and then some without an ounce of complaint. 

—

When Alexia is sixteen, she makes her first team debut for Atlético Madrid. It’s a proud day for the whole family, and you sit squished between her father and Alba as you watch her race onto the pitch. 

There’s a sharp determination on her face, and though she only plays ten minutes you can tell she is going to be good. You can’t say you’re surprised, and when she turns toward her family and you and beams as the game ends, you know that you wouldn’t be anywhere else other than here. 

—

When Alexia is seventeen, she reminds you of what you mean to her. 

Atlético games are never terribly well attended with how little importance is placed on women’s football. But there is still a steady crowd, and it is beginning to grow more and more. 

Alongside that growth come some…interesting characters. 

You’re a regular in the stands, alternating between reading your book, watching the game, and doing homework. It’s rare for you to miss a match, though you have missed a goal or two when your nose is shoved in a book. Luckily, Eli, Jaume, or Alba will nudge you if Alexia is doing something important. If they aren’t there, then one of the other players' family members will, a fact that you’re extremely grateful for. 

Your commitment is unwavering, but your interest in any sort of PDA or anything is limited. Alexia is much the same, a characteristic you’ve always been grateful for. 

But then a group of girls from your school start to show up at games. There’s four of them, always sitting in the front row of the stands, no matter what. They cheer Alexia on as though she is their best friend, despite the fact that she told you herself she doesn’t really know them. When the footballer comes toward the stands after games, they rush to greet her. They fawn over her easily, throwing their arms around her for hugs and pressing chaste kisses to her cheek. 

You always find yourself standing awkwardly in the background, wishing to talk to your girlfriend but unable to stop staring at the scene in front of you. 

At first, it’s more funny than anything. You and Alexia’s family joke about her fan club and delight in the way her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. 

But they never stopped coming to games. And by the time you figure out that they aren’t going to stop, you realize that perhaps you need to take a step back. Those girls are popular, sweet, they love football and seem to understand everything. You are intelligent and well liked, but nowhere near as popular or well versed in the game Alexia lives and breathes by. Trying to follow along to each whistle or hand signal is impossible for you, and your interest in learning comes and goes like an ocean tide. 

“I don’t think I can come on Saturday, I have a calculus project I need to work on,” is what you tell Alexia one weekend. But the brunette didn’t buy it for a single second, raising her eyebrows suspiciously. 

“You always just do it at the games – I’ve seen you in the stands with a glue stick before you were so determined to be there,” she points out, calling your bluff easily.

“Well…this is important Ale. It’s our final year of school, I need the marks to get into university,” you defend weakly, but it’s a lost cause. Your grades are extremely good, and you’ll have your pick of schools. One calculus project will not make or break that opportunity by a long shot. 

“Is this about those girls from school?” Alexia questions softly, her voice careful. You glance over at her and sigh after a moment, knowing that there's really no use in lying. The brunette could read you like the back of her hand. 

You don’t even need to voice your concern for Alexia to know exactly what you’re thinking, and she moves to sit down next to you on the edge of her bed. 

“I promise you with everything in me that I do not care about those girls. I don’t care if you are certain that they are nicer or popular or more pretty than you are. You are perfect to me, and I don’t care about them at all. I only care about you, and I only want you. You are my peace and my life, not them,” the footballer insists, and you look over at her with a quiet resignation. 

“Even if they understand football better than me?” You ask, your voice impossibly small. Alexia smiles sadly, reaching out to gently cradle your face in her hands. 

“When I look at the stands, it’s you I search for. It’s you who makes my heart skip a beat when I realize that you’re there. It’s you who fills my stomach with butterflies and sets the wind into my sail. How could I even notice them when I have you, Flori?” 

At the next game, Alexia politely smiles at the girls but moves straight past them to charge up the stands, still in her kit and boots. She gently lifts your calculus project off your lap so that she can press a resounding kiss to your lips, smiling into it when you gasp into her mouth with surprise. 

—

When Alexia is eighteen, two things happen. 

Everything somehow falls together, and falls apart all at the same time. 

The first is that her father dies. 

It's not unexpected, though the reality is still jarring. It feels like she is free falling, unable to find a moment of stability or rest. 

She finds herself in her old bedroom in her Uncle’s house in Barcelona, avoiding the mass of people downstairs paying their respects. While the sympathy of others is heartfelt and sincere, it’s heavy. 

She already feels heavy. Any more of it and she might break into a million pieces, that she is sure of. So she escapes up stairs for a moment, leaving Alba with a cousin and her Mami with an old friend. 

A knock at the door pulls her from her thoughts, and she looks over to see that you have poked your head into the room. 

“Ale?” You inquire gently, the question unspoken between the two of you. Four years of dating and endless years of friendship have left you with an innate ability to know when the brunette needs space, and that doesn’t feel like where she is right now. 

You’re nothing if not respectful though, aware that as much as you sympathize, you really might not have the answer here. Nothing this big had ever happened in your relationship before, or in either of your lives before. There was no book or manual to prepare on how to deal with a grief so complete and overwhelming as this.  

Alexia loved her father deeply, and no amount of time to anticipate or process her thoughts of his illness actually prepared her from the shock of him being gone. 

You had loved Jaume too, how he passed out love like it was free to give, how he laughed without inhibition, how he welcomed you into the Putellas family with ease. But it wasn’t the same, and you were aware. You knew that you felt only a slice of what your girlfriend did, and even just this amount of grief was unbearable. 

You didn’t know how the footballer was even standing. 

Alexia’s eye’s silently pleaded with you to come in, so you did. You moved across the room before laying down on the bed next to her until the two of you were laying parallel, staring up at the ceiling together. You’re exhausted as well with all the stress and worry, but your first thought is always her. 

It always has been. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you for a long stretch of time. 

What is there to say? 

Your heart aches for her, and for her loss, for her family. Alexia screws her eyes shut, trying to regulate her own breathing. Everything about her feels erratic and out of control.

The footballer turns to her side, tucking herself into your body. She clutches to your arm tightly, forcing herself to copy your steady, dependable breathing. 

As much as she needs her Mami and Alba in this time, she has to work to be strong for them. She was the person they looked to, the decision maker, the leader. They need her, and she would kill herself before she neglected that need. 

But you are her strength, you always have been. You are the one who protects her, whose only thought is her. You have always been constant and steadfast for her through anything, a pillar of strength. She relies on you, and it scares the hell out of her. 

And yet you’re right there, and you seem to take it with a practiced ease that makes Alexia want to sob with gratitude. 

Loss engulfs her and brings her back, your steady hand in hers the entire time. There is rarely a moment when she needs you and you are not there for her, always attuned to her moods and thoughts. 

But then a huge curveball is thrown in Alexia’s way. 

Two weeks after her father passes away, Barcelona calls her. They are creating a women’s team, and though it is not professionalized, it is a team. 

Alexia accepts the request on the spot, not even stopping to consider the consequences. 

It doesn’t matter, the answer would still be yes. Her Mami and Alba are thrilled, quickly deciding that they all should move back to Barcelona together. It was time, and as much as they had built a community here in Madrid, Barcelona would always be home for them. 

Alexia goes to you that night and asks you to move with her. She explains her plan vividly, how you can go to school, she will play football, and you both can get part time jobs. You’ll get a little apartment together, actually start the beginning of your lives together. 

There was never a world in which you were not together, not with how happy you both were together. It was a no-brainer, an easy solution to a problem that had never existed. Life for her didn’t exist without you in it. 

Alexia would move first, and you would follow her in two months once you had received your university acceptance letter. It was a fool proof plan in the Catalans mind. 

At least, it had been a fool proof plan. 

The night before Alexia was scheduled to leave, you arrived at her door. The surprise and excitement on her face quickly gave way to intense concern when she saw the trepidation on your face. 

“Can I come in?” You asked gingerly, stepping inside as the Catalan made way for you to come into her house. 

“Yes, of course you can,” she replied, following you into her kitchen and taking a seat across from you at the table. For several moments there is silence as you seem to work up the courage to finally choke out the words you need to say. 

“I…I can’t come to Barcelona with you Alexia,” you finally stated, your hands folded neatly in your lap

“What?” Alexia isn’t sure she heard you correctly, because certainly you couldn’t be saying what she thought you had said. 

“I have to stay here with my Mama, to help her with the boys and the house and everything. I’ll get a job for a year before going to school, I think,” you explained slowly. 

“I…okay. Are you sure Flori?” You nodded with clear reservation, but the brunette continued forward regardless. 

“Well then…we can call. And take the train to one another when possible, and then maybe when the boys are older you can come to – what is it?” Alexia’s voice grinded to a halt when she finally seemed to notice your despondent expression

“I cannot come Alexia, and I don’t know when I will be able to. I will be very busy, and I am sure you will be as well, so perhaps it’s for the best if–” You were cut off, unsurprisingly. 

“If what?” Alexia challenged, her anger flaring. It’s not really anger, it’s fear, and you see right through her. But still you do not yield, your expression entirely unreadable to the midfielder. 

It only makes her more and more mad that she cannot tell what is going on. 

“Are you just going to give all of this up? I don’t even know what life is like without you, and what – now it gets a little hard and you call it quits? Did you ever even care about me? Did you ever even love me, or has this whole time just been a huge li–”  Alexia yelled from across the table, her hands slamming down to splay on the wood in front of her. 

“Enough!” You yelled, standing suddenly. Alexia seemed surprised at your outburst, but there was nothing other than a quiet resignation across your expression. There was no anger or outrage or fury on your face, but rather a strange form of acceptance mixed with defeat. 

When you spoke again, it was with softness and finality as the footballer looked up at you. 

“I love you Alexia. And I am very excited about this new journey you are going on, even if it is not with me.” 

You walked over to her side of the table before bending down to press a kiss to her temple.  You slipped out the door in a flash. Alexia was so completely thrown off that she didn’t have an answer or a response, she didn’t even have time to stop you. 

She had never sobbed so hard in her entire life than she did at the dining room table that night. Grief had become her shadow, but this was an entirely new kind of grief. It poured over her, consuming her, and she for once found herself completely lost in it. 

When she arrives in Barcelona, it is with red rimmed eyes and a renewed resolve to make something of herself. 

If it meant losing you, it had to be important. 

—

Alexia left Madrid when she was eighteen. 

Barcelona Femeni wasn’t even a professional team, and she was a nobody who had come into the system with promise and drive but nothing to her name. 

Throughout the past nine years, so much had happened to her both personally and professionally. Barcelona was not the same team at all, having been professionalized a few years after she arrived. They were taken somewhat seriously now, with titles and dominance in the domestic league. Though the Champions League eluded them, Alexia knew it was coming. 

She was in the prime of her career, playing better football than she had ever expected herself. The brunette was achieving everything that she had wanted, and she remained hungry and focused toward the future. It was never enough for her, and she always thought she could be doing better. 

There were times though…when she stopped and wondered. 

Was it worth it? 

She wanted so badly to say yes instantly. Football was her passion, her purpose, it had always been her goal to be the best she could be. It had driven every decision she had made in her entire life, and she wanted so desperately to believe in it wholeheartedly. 

But there had always been a flicker of doubt. She held it closely to her heart, never sharing it with anyone, not even Alba or Eli. She did not want to seem weak or doubtful of her decision.

Her apartment was empty, devoid of practically any women, and that had been her choice. Even after all of these years, she couldn’t bring herself to commit to anyone long term. 

The brunette wanted to be angry at you for staying behind, but she couldn’t bring herself to really mean it. She loved you far too much, and the ache of missing you only seemed to strengthen as the years bled on. She had other women, she really tried, but never did she feel the same connection that she had with you. 

Alexia had admittedly tried to look for you, when her initial hurt had bled away in an embarrassingly short amount of time. But you were a ghost. 

The footballer wasn’t surprised, considering that you had never been a big social media person. She found some of your relatives online but their accounts were mostly private and rarely were you photographed. When she returned to Madrid for games, your family was gone from the home you had been raised in, and she wasn’t shameless enough to start banging on neighbors doors to find out more. 

Your phone number had seemingly changed by the time she worked up the nerve to call you, and eventually it just seemed wrong. You never reached out to her, at least not that Alexia was aware of. 

She had simply been forced to accept the fact that she had lost you, for reasons she still did not comprehend or understand. All it took was one singular month to lose both her father and her…to lose you, and that thought gnawed away at a piece of her soul relentlessly. 

But suddenly here you were. 

Nine years later, and here you stood right in front of her. 

“Hello Alexia,” you stated, your face a veil of carefully constructed neutrality, even if your heart beat was erratic beneath your dress. The sound of your voice seemed to bring Alexia back from wherever in her mind she had been. 

“Hi…hi there,” the brunette stuttered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. She couldn’t quite get herself to believe that you were standing in front of her. . 

“I know it’s been awhile but it’s…it's good to see you. Congratulations on your team's success these last few years,” you commented gently, a true smile on your lips. 

“Oh, yes, thank you very much. You…you follow the team?” Alexia inquired, her eyebrow furrowing in confusion. You had always been so apathetic to football, she never could have imagined you sitting in front of the television watching games. 

“Ever since you moved to Barcelona,” you confirmed with a nod of the head. Alexia felt her perplexity only ballon in size. 

If you still cared, why did you let her leave in the first place? Why did you give up so easily? 

A silence lapped over the two of you, but it was filled with so many unsaid words, so much tension that had never existed before. 

Alexia and you both looked the same, and yet somehow completely different. You could tell how much the footballer had grown into herself given the ease at which she stood, her hands tucked in her pants pockets loosely. There was an air of elegance and power to her, hazel eyes piercing into you with purpose. 

She looked at you as though she never wanted to look away again, and selfishly, you felt hope in your heart that perhaps…

“Are you with anyone?” You asked suddenly, surprising yourself with the forwardness. It could be interpreted as for the event specifically, but the potential broader implication suffocated you despite the fact that you were the one to ask the question. 

“No, I am not with anyone Flor–” Alexia cut herself off, seemingly realizing her mistake. 

It didn’t feel like much of a mistake to you, and you longed to hear the word come out of her mouth, just once more. If this was the end for the two of you, you would have sold anything you owned to hear her say it just once more. 

You nodded slowly, before replying that you were here alone as well. 

“Perhaps…perhaps we could go on a walk?” Alexia suggested, and you allowed her to set the pace of whatever you guys did together. After all, it had been you that had left in the first place, a fact that you would never forget. 

You nodded in affirmation, explaining that you needed to grab your clutch before you could meet her at the door. 

It was divine timing as well, considering that your boss had just let you off for the evening and you were planning to go home soon anyways. This was a more welcome surprise than whatever you had been planning in your mind. 

—

There was a wave of relief that rushed through Alexia when you appeared in the door frame a few minutes later, almost as though she was positive you were not going to arrive. But there you were, a light jacket thrown over your dress and a small purse in your hand. 

You both walked out of the event space together, silence lapping between the two of you as you continued forward. Alexia was struggling to organize her thoughts in any sort of productive way. She was so caught off guard by everything. 

She thought she would never see you again. 

“How long are you in Barcelona? Just for the weekend?” She questioned, her voice soft. You shook your head, your posture straight and somewhat tense. 

“No actually, I live here now. I moved a few years back,” you replied, voice unwavering. 

Alexia couldn’t help the stab of hurt that ran through her heart at that piece of information. She had always wondered deep down what she had done to cause all of this, why you had let her go. At first the distance was the only thing in Alexia’s mind to explain the break up, but now she knew you had been here for years. She didn’t understand it, even after nine years. Every piece of logical information told her that you had loved her, and yet here you were. 

Was any of this even salvageable? 

Did she want it to be? 

“Oh…I see,” her voice was flat, but in a way that oozed grief rather than true apathy. 

“I come to your games sometimes, once I moved out here,” you admitted, thinking of all the times you had sat up in the stands watching her play. The brunette glanced at you in clear shock, and you shrugged, unable to conjure an appropriate answer to explain yourself further. 

Things were…things had been so complicated. By the time all of it had cleared and the world made sense to you again, she was gone. You knew you had lost your opportunity to be with her, to be a part of her life. 

As much as it haunted you, it was the reality of your life. You never could have changed what happened, but that didn’t mean it cut you just as deep as it did Alexia. 

But perhaps there was hope for the two of you, here and now. Maybe it would be messy and complicated and painful, but it would be real. There was so much left unsaid between the two of you, and whether the two of you could face it headfirst or not would make or break the whole situation. 

“Where did we go wrong? How did all of this fall apart?” 

The question was sudden, a shock but not a surprise. 

You took a deep breath, stopping and looking back at Alexia. The Catalan had stopped walking when she had spoken, as though she was unable to move forward even an inch. Her hands were balled into fists, and everything about her body language communicated her discomfort. 

“Did I do something to make you stop loving me? Where did I mess up?” She questioned, nearly begged. 

Was her career worth losing this, losing you? 

Had she lost you? 

“Alexia, you did nothing wrong. You were perfect, you are perfect,” you promised, summoning every last bit of strength to imbue into your words. You walked back to her, reaching out carefully to place the backs of your fingers to her cheek, just barely touching the warm skin there. She closed her eyes at the feeling as tears burned in your eyes. 

“I lost you,” she whispered, both startled and settled that you still smelled the same, your perfume unchanged after all these years.

“I know, I know. But I’m right here now, I’m right here,” you vowed, still unsure and desperate of what to say. 

“I know that this is fucked up, and complicated, and it’s been years. I might as well be a stranger to you, but I need you to trust me when I say that nothing that happened was your fault. I made the decisions I did because it was what I had to do, but don’t for a minute think it didn’t kill me inside. Don’t you dare think I didn’t spend the last decade of my life missing you,” implored, almost as if trying to force her to understand the depth of your love, even after all this time. You turned your hand to cradle her cheek gently, your thumb stroking across the skin there as you spoke again. Your voice was barely audible, crackling with emotion. 

“Maybe this is crazy for me to say, but I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. And if I never see you after this, I want you to know how much I loved you. How much I still love you. ”

She reached her hand up to grasp at your wrist, holding your hand in place against her cheek. 

“Please don’t leave,” she murmured, and you nodded insistently. 

“I’m right here. I’m right here Ale.” 

The look of relief on her face at hearing you call her that was palpable. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, lost in one another. It could have been a minute or a year, and you didn’t care. You would have stood there forever, content to ignore the rest of the world if Alexia remained this close to you. 

But eventually the telltale signs of rain began to stir, drops of water falling onto your jacket and in your hair. You pulled back, taking Alexia’s hand and squeezing it before you reached for your clutch. Opening the bag, you pulled out a business card and a pen, writing your personal number on the back of the card. 

“The number on this is my office, but the back is my cell. If you still want to…if you decide you want to talk more, call me,” you insisted lightly, placing the card in her hand. 

“I promise I’ll pick up,” you soothed after a moment, your words gentle. 

Alexia stared down at the card, at your loopy handwriting, for far too long. It reminded her of being fifteen, watching you write equations on the wall for tutoring. It was jarring, and it stirred up emotions she didn’t realize she had buried. 

When she looked up again you were gone, and yet not a single ounce of her felt alone as she stood on the sidewalk. 

She had a new possibility. The chance to return to who she was in her youth and understand the past. Or the option to continue forward in her career, focusing solely on football and her dedication to the sport while leaving the past behind. 

She had no idea what she would do, but at least for once she had the choice to decide.

(Part 2)

[hollandsfavbabe]

Wet & Wild II

pairing: art donaldson x reader

synopsis: in which you, a swimmer, and art, a tennis champ, change each other's lives for the better when you challenge his match-like stance on life

warnings: SMUT, porn with a plot, sexually explicit language, cursing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, nipple play, locker room sex, swimmer lingo

word count: 5.5k

part 1

tags💜: @midnightwrriting @no1runawaymilkdad @ihave-aboringlife @blahhucantmakeme @laniirackssss @blood-bloss @lmaoyani @geminiflanagansblog @ruyaas-world @hrlzy @povobsessed @stephstephstephsteph @chakin @10ava01 @lem0ns77 @velvrei @hdhdhdndhdndk

masterlist

a/n: sorry if the tags aren’t working, I tried to include everyone that wanted it. lmk if you have questions on anything. hope you enjoy!!

A week has passed since the last time you’d seen Art and you try to rid any thoughts of him from your mind as you enter the women’s locker room, the day so early that the sun has only just risen. You’d only spent a few hours with him, but he feels more important to you than a mere acquaintance, especially considering you’d let him have more of you than most people would ever get to. You try to tell yourself it won’t matter if he shows or not, but deep down you know that it will. Regardless, overthinking won’t help you in the water so you shove it down as you steadily pull on your tech suit, careful not to rip the delicate fabric. Your headphones are currently blaring your hype playlist in your ear, but you slide them off once you notice movement to your left as Chloe opens her own locker.

“You ready?” she asks you, pulling out her own racing suit from the depths of her swim bag.

“Not really,” you admit, giving up on stretching your tight suit to your full body frame for the time being as you opt for a tie-back bikini top instead. Your shoulders are ever so grateful. “I’m so nervous.��

“Why? Because of your race or your little tennis boyfriend?” she teases, lips quirking into a classic Chloe smirk. As your best friend, she was the first and only person you told about your interaction with Art at the party and, of course, she had been teasing you about it since. While during practice it was amusing, you are not in the mood for jokes right before a race, especially one of such importance.

You furrow a brow, shaking your head to signal that it’s not the time for such jests concerning the blonde. As the good friend that she is, Chloe immediately understands as she moves to help tie your suit straps, a simple task that you are unexpectedly failing at due to the pressure of the meet ahead of you.

“You’re going to do great,” Chloe comforts, placing an assuring hand on your shoulder once she’s finished with your straps. “I’m sure of it.”

“What if I don’t break the record?”

“Who cares? You can try again next time. If that’s the worst that can happen, you don’t have anything to be nervous about,” she smiles in assurance. “Besides that record is as good as yours -” she makes a gesture to your tech suit that has the most magical of time bending abilities if wielded by the right swimmer. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Nothing can stop you now.”

“Thanks Clo.” you grin at her appreciatively, and though your nerves don’t settle in the slightest, you feel more comfortable living in cohabitation with them now. They’re so much easier to manage when you’re not alone.

It’s only minutes before the rest of your team has arrived and you have hours before your event is scheduled to take place, yet it only feels like seconds before you’re being seated in the waiting room amongst your competitors, tech suit finally fully on. Rousing music plays through your headphones though you are sure to skip any songs that seem even the slightest bit romantic. You try to slip into the right headspace, the line between confident and cocky that has always aided you in not panicking just before you step up to the blocks in the past. You try to find it, using any method at your fingertips, but it’s no use. You can’t seem to find it no matter how hard you try and suddenly it feels as if the weight of the world is crashing down on you when the door opens and your event is called. You stand with the other women and together you line up behind the blocks.

The sun shines much higher up in the sky than it had been when you dove in during warm ups, blaring down to reflect off the red of your cap that bears the Stanford logo in white along with your last name. You take your rightful place behind the starting block of the middle lane, and though you already wrote your heat and lane in black sharpie on your forearm just to be sure, you can’t help but worry that you’ve already missed your race.

It’s only when the head announcer calls your event on the loudspeaker that you stop dwelling on it, her voice echoing through the stands that seem so much taller now that you're in the center with so much pressure resting solely on you. You rake though the rafters to your left, hoping to be comforted by the sight of Chloe or one of your other teammates until you realize that they are more than likely preparing for their own events in the warm up pool.

It's then, just when the swirling hurricane of emotions is hurtling toward you, that you see him. He’s seated in the first row, blonde curls circling his head like a golden crown and a wide smile lighting up his face when he sees that you’ve finally spotted him, one that you can’t help returning as he mouths sweet wishes of luck to you.

Art came. He actually came!

The storm subsides and all of a sudden you’ve lost all your inhibitions. Instead of buzzing anxiety, you are filled with a new light and the confidence of a record breaker. It’s all so clear with Art in the stands and as his presence wafts away your storm of worries, you come to the realization that you can do it. You know you can.

The whistle of an official blares through the speaker and on cue you slide on your goggles and mount the block. You’re really starting to feel the compression of your suit as you bend into your diving position, waiting for the magic words. The signal that it’s time to race and leave everything you have in the pool as you go.

“Swimmers, take your marks…” 

You take one last breath before the sound blares and you dive off the block. It all comes naturally to you and with the help of your suit, you find yourself breaking out farther than ever before.

You only have a few strokes until you’re at the end of the pool when out of nowhere, the girl in the lane beside you starts to catch up to you until the two of you are neck and neck and it doesn’t escape your attention when she flips a split second before you’re able to.

You know it’s not about winning, you told Art that, but it’s as if a fire has been lit behind you and you’re suddenly determined to go for the gold. You push yourself harder than you ever have before and though you're not sure where the energy has come from, you know it’s exactly what you need. You’ve failed if you’re able to get out of the pool without stumbling.

Before long you catch up to the swimmer beside you, taking your first and only breath as you summon the last of your power, pushing through the water like a jet-ski. At once you’re behind the flags and unlike before, there’s no one beating you to the touch pad resting on the side of the ending wall as you slam your hand down and come up for air.

The crowd erupts with applause once you finish and at first you’re under the impression that it’s because of your win until your eyes glaze over at the scoreboard and nearly burst from your skull at the sight of the result.

You had accomplished your goal. There it was, a time faster than the Stanford record glowing right beside your name. But you didn’t just pass it by a few flimsy hundredths. Your new record was more than a second faster.

You can hardly believe it and you know if the proof weren’t right in front of you, there’d only be disbelief instead of this crashing wave of accomplishment and pride. Though you’re in severe oxygen debt from the race, you find yourself screaming in excitement at your gigantic accomplishment.

“We have a new record!” an official announces through the loudspeaker once the other girls have returned to the starting wall, followed by your name and new time. You search for Art again once you’re out of the water, all but failing to suppress your grin as you find him clapping in the stands and smiling down at you as if you were the most precious stone in the world.

Your teammates are filled with the same immense pride when you join them in the locker room once the meet is over. You’ve since changed from your tech suit, switching out the tight fabric for your cozy hoodie, tie-back bikini top, and a towel tied around your waist. The suit in question now hangs in your locker with the rest of your clothes that you had been in the middle of putting on before the congradulations began.

“I fucking told you!” Chloe shouts, clapping you on the back like you had just won the lottery. You imagine such a feat couldn’t match the pride you feel now.

You almost say that you can’t believe it, but the words stall on your lips. You actually can believe it, this is something you’ve been working tirelessly for. And now, after a long hard race, the record title is finally yours.

“Did I see a certain blonde in the audience?” Chloe smirks, nudging you as you wave goodbye to one of your other parting teammates.

“Maybe,” you drawl, trying your best to hide your growing grin, but the thought of the man makes you feel like flying through the air as year worth of buried emotions bubble up to the surface. You haven’t felt anything like this for a very long time.

“You know what that means…” Chloe whispers to you after you pull away from a hug with one of the other girls who like everyone else, is on her way out. The night’s party is being hosted at a house that’s a longer commute than usual in honor of the women’s tenth annual win and unlike your teammates, you aren’t in any hurry to get there knowing the a portion of the celebration will surround you.

“Drinks on you?” you guess, pretending you are clueless as to what she’s getting at. You hope it’s enough to deter her from whatever inevitably grotesque she’s about to say, but you know it’s to no avail as she laughs and shakes her head.

“Nice try,” she smiles, nudging you with her elbow. “I meant that he’s definetly going to fuck the shit out of you next time you see him.”

You cringe bashfully at her words, hitting her on the shoulder as she backs away from your shrunken form.

“Chloe!” you chide, though you both know no real anger lies within your tone. She’s been like this since the day you’d first met her: always the same old loving, indecorous Chloe.

“Just saying.” she shrugs before turning to say her goodbyes to the last lingering one of your other teammates.

You turn to open your locker, finally ready to change out of your damp towel until you’re startled by the clacking footsteps of unfamiliar tennis shoes heading in your direction. You assume it’s another random spectator who had bypassed the many signs clearly stating that the locker room is for athlete occupance only, but at once you find you’re very wrong when you turn to see who it is.

Art stands before you and though it was his decision to invade the women’s locker room, he looks as surprised as you.

“Hey,” he says, almost breathlessly. You’re thankful when you notice that Chloe is fully dressed to your left, just pulling on her knit cardigan.

She smirks smuggly at the sight of him, swinging her bag over her shoulders before sending you a wink and a swiftly muttered, “Told ya.” Without another word she exits, leaving you and Art utterly and completely alone.

“You realize this is the women’s restroom, right?” you jab as you hear Chloe shut the door behind her, though it’s all in good fun. As far as you know, no one is coming anywhere near the locker room for the next several hours.

“I was waiting outside for you,” he states, gradually lifting his hands from their tense place in the front of his jean pockets. “I thought everyone else had already come out, but I guess I was wrong.”

“That’s just Chloe,” you laugh, gesturing in the direction of the exit path your best friend had just taken. “Don’t worry, she won’t tattle.”

He chuckles, amused by your jest before he takes a slow step closer to you. Like a sparkler to your stomach, you become acutely aware of the tension between the two of you, growing like the blush colored blossoms of a cherry tree in spring. “I’ve thought about what you said.”

This makes you smile.

“And?”

“You were right.”

You’re heart flutters, so light that if it weren’t encaged within your chest you’re sure it would’ve floated away. He pauses to take another tense step in your direction, now only a foot away.

“Do you know how Tashi and I met?”

“I don’t, actually,” you say, words laced with a twinge of sarcasm.

“Right,” he laughs, realizing the folly behind his question. It was more rhetorical than anything, but he begins the story like a spider spindiling its web. “Well it was only about a year ago. We met at the US open. Patrick and I both went after her and you know what she told us?”

You wait for the answer.

“She said she’d give her number to whoever won our match. That was the first time I ever lost and it was to my best friend.”

“That’s who was at your match, wasn’t it?” you ask.

Art nods solumnly, though the pain that had been etched on his face from your last meeting has vanished, as if the thorn in his side has been replced by a budding rose.

“I didn’t know Art, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he urges. “It’s all okay now. I’ve realized that none of it matters anymore and it’s all because of you. If I’m being honest, I thought maybe if I won my match, then Tashi would leave him. But it’s not what I want anymore. I don’t want to be the winner she’s running to. I don’t want to have to earn her love.”

“What do you want?”

There’s a pause, a distinct moment where the glint in his blue eyes from the bright lights above conveys a clever message to you than any words could. Then he speaks.

“I think you know what I want.”

It’s all the confirmation you need to know that he’s finally playing the same game as you. He’s unbearably close now as his head reaches up to gently rake through your stringy wet hair. You welcome his touch, breath catching in your throat at the feeling of his fingers as his lips hover just above yours. If you’re being completely honest, you haven’t stopped fantasizing about it since the night of the party. Since the moment he had kissed you.

“You were right,” he whispers as his hot breath tickles the tips of your top lips with every placid word. “I don’t care about winning anymore. The only point I want to score is you.”

“That’s a really bad joke.” you remark, pointing out the obvious from his corny declaration. But Art doesn’t share your smirk, his face settling in an expression that’s much more sensual.

“I’m not kidding.”

You feel the immediate shift in energy as your smirk fades to parted lips and Art’s longing gaze moves downward from your eyes. What little space left between you is squashed as you allow him to pull you even closer, noses prodigy one another as Art’s fingers drift from the tips of your hair to cup the back of your head. It’s almost salivating the way he looks at you and you’re suddenly eager to remember what he tastes like.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks through a whisper, so quietly that if you hadn’t been right in front of him, you surely wouldn’t have heard it. It’s milliseconds before you’re nodding exuberantly with more urgency than a speeding ambulance (something you might need if your heart decided to beat any faster).

“Pleas-” you start, but Art’s on you before you can even get the word out, covering your lips with his until all you can taste, smell, and feel is him. Everything is him.

He’s gentle with you at first, testing the waters as his lips pass smoothly over yours. You lift up your hands to invite him in, squeezing the toned flesh of his arms before you drag them slowly up to the nape of his neck. You toy with some of the curls that rest there, twirling them between your fingers while sinking into the sounds he makes in return. He lets out a soft moan into your mouth, and at once his tongue melds with yours. You match the new intensity, swallowing each low groan.

Unlike your last encounter, it’s Art who pulls away this time, forcing you to scowl at him in confusion, eyes squinting and lips puffy. He twists his head to the left, glazing at the wide space behind him as he slowly moves the both of you backwards to the nearest flat-board bench until one of its edges grazes the top of his shin.

“What are you doing?” you ask through a whisper, leaning forward so that your lips titillate the tip of his ear which sends inadvertent shivers through his whole body. Art turns back to you, smirking as he leans in for another sloppy kiss, earning a salacious sound from you before his lips shift from yours and trailing from the corner of your mouth to the line of your open jaw where his teeth scrape against your skin. You can feel him grinning as he makes you emit the softest of moans.

“I want to make up for the other night. I said some things - I’m not proud of.”

You give a giddy chuckle as you cup his cheek, amused by the fact that he thinks his past behavior was inexcusable until Art’s head dips to suck on the tender skin of your neck and you can’t help but whine. You’re glad you have the lung capacity of a swimmer otherwise you might’ve fainted from the near constant lack of oxygen.

“Art, honestly-” a sudden gasp is ripped from you as you feel him nipping at your sweet spot, crumbling like a tin can under pressure. “-it’s fine.” you barely manage to finish your sentence.

He places a few more steady kisses to the column of your neck, working his way down to your clavicle. You tip your head back, an unintentional effect from the sensation of his lips as he lays the last just near the edge of your collarbone before raising his head to look at you and it’s almost as if he can see right through you.

“Does that mean you don’t want what I’m offering?” he questions, glancing down at the steady movement of your chest as it rises and falls beneath your hoodie. You don’t recall when in the last few minutes he managed to move his hands down to your waist, but you can feel them now as clear as ever. He grips the sides of your hoodie, nimble fingers sliding under the thick gray fabric until they find the skin beneath and his touch feels like fire, sparking flames along your hips with every small caress. It’s so hot that you aren’t sure how Tashi could pick anyone over him. You aren’t sure how anyone could deny him for that matter.

“No…” you admit and at once his hands start to travel higher and higher until they reach the bottom band of your bikini, inflaming the whole of your torso as he meets the straps still tied neatly together in the middle of your spine forming a perfect bow. His fingers follow the provided path, meeting at the center of your back as he starts to twirl one of the tails of the knot around his pointer finger.

“May I?” he asks, his tone so deceivingly politely as he gently tugs on the string. He waits patiently for your consent as his eyes pan up from your chest to your expression. You can’t get the words out, already too overwhelmed from the sizzling sensation of his touch, but you make sure to nod with the utmost enthusiasm. Who were you to tell Art Donaldson no when he was so eager to touch you? And you, in turn, were so eager to feel him.

He smiled at your agreeance and instantly unfastened the tie of your suit, pulling on the strand until the entire bow came undone. He lips pressed against yours once more before he settled down on the bench and raised the hem of your hoodie just enough to expose your stomach, peppering kisses to every inch of you.

You released your hold on him to assist in pulling the hoodie over your head, tossing it behind you where it lands in a crumple pile near the metal door of your locker. Without any tension left to hold it up, the triangle cutlets of your bikini slump to reveal two perfect pebbled nipples, leaving the towel looped around your waist as your only source of coverage.

Usually you’d feel insecure being so bare for a man that’s practically a stranger, but from the dazed look Art gives you as he takes in the sight of your figure, you find that you don’t mind it in the slightest.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Art mutters almost involuntarily, sending shock waves down straight to your core. The words came bursting out before he could find the strength to hold them back, his brain too busy processing your beauty to have any control over any sort of filter. You return your hands to his head of blonde curls just as he presses one last kiss to the center of your abdomen, exactly below your rib cage.

The movement is so sudden that you can't count the seconds that pass before he grabs at your breasts, each hand perfectly cupping the mounted flesh. His mouth is slower, trailing kisses up the valley of your chest.

His thumb works the sensitive skin encircling your nipple, running over the hardened peak in an unperceivable pattern that forces another well earned moan from your lips. It’s encouragement for his other hand that immediately drifts upwards to mirror the actions of the other. Every pinch and slight movement is like gasoline to your fire, all pouring in a downward stream to the part of you that grows more needy with every passing second. You could cry from the sensation of it all, the intensity only growing when you feel him pass his tongue over your left nipple. You try to suppress any sounds this time, teeth biting down on your lip as you curve your head back, but it forces its way out despite your efforts. You grip the hair fixed to his crown and pressure him forwards so that he remains in place.

“Shit, that feels - really good.” you praise, your phrase strung together like an old beaded bracelet as changes in pace break apart each word. When Art does part from your breasts, it’s to press wet kisses down the line of your abdomen as flickering thumbs replace his mouth. He pauses as he reaches the softest portion of your stomach, stopping just above the knot that is covering your very bare lower half, and though you don’t recall informing him about your lack of undergarments, you are sure that he already knows.

“I need to taste you,” he whispers against your skin.

He doesn’t ask you for permission anymore, but instead glances up at you from his spot on the bench and it’s everything you need to understand what he wants from you. And of course you want it. You’re sure if he wastes a second longer to tend to your throbbing center, you might just pass out in his sturdy arms.

“Please, Art, I need you,” you’re able to get out, though it’s breathy and delicate from the way that he’s rendered you.

He’s quick to oblige as he takes the top of your towel cover in between his perfect white teeth and yanks the fabric hard enough for it to fall to your feet. He’s on you in an instant, one of his hands moving to support your shaky frame as he slides a knee between yours to spread you open.

He coaxes every cry out of you with his tongue, wet and skilled as he traces it along each fold, his nose bobbing against your swollen clit not dissimilar from his left hand that still lies atop your breast. You press him closer to you as he swirls his tongue around you, over and over and never in the same way more than twice in a row. It’s overstimulation at its best, overwhelming you until you're trembling in his grasp and before you know it, you’re riding the edge of the wave to pure pleasure.

“Fuck, Art! I’m- I’m-“ you can’t even finish your sentence, he feels so good. He hums against you in amusement, the vibrations of his voice meeting your core in a melting sensation that you find yourself grinding into uncontrollably.

“On my tongue,” he promotes against you before licking a steady stripe along your center. It’s then that you know you’re done for. Your cry is almost inhuman as you leap off the edge, diving into the heart of the wave as Art finally relinquishes his hold on your breast and uses the newly unoccupied hand to pierce into your arousal, calloused fingers curling into you as he helps you down from your high. Even after you cum you know you still have more in you. And you can tell from the growing bulge in his pants that Art isn’t done with you either.

He stands to kiss you with dampened lips as the taste of your own arousal invades your senses, but you withdraw from the embrace after only a few seconds to ask him your burning question, desire already regrowing like a flooding river of need.

“Art, I need you,” you start, pulling at the canvas material of his button up. “Please, please fuck me.”

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles before pressing his mouth towards yours and back you up to the wall of lockers that are neatly arranged behind you.

Granted by his permission, you unfasten each button of his shirt until it’s enough to pull it off him which he happily helps you accomplish. You can’t tell who’s more desperate for you to feel the dense muscle of his chest as he places your palms face down on his pecs, granting you the assurance you needed to explore his body.

You take your time, squeezing and prodding just as he had done to you until one of your hands is low enough on his stomach to palm him through his light wash jeans. The soft whimper he returns is nearly enough to send you over again. He pulls back as he lets you undo his belt, eyelids fluttering after you’ve unbuttoned and unzipped the only thing keeping you from him. You’re quick to pull him out, not at all shocked by how hard he is and it’s a major ego boost knowing it’s all because of you.

“See what you do to me?” he whispers against your lips as if you needed more proof of his longing for you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Please,” you beg. “I need to feel you.”

Art is quick to oblige as his calloused fingers grip the soft skin of your hips, so rough that you can feel every callus from his racket as he pushes you against the lockers, thrusting up into you. While he’s dying to continue, he hesitates so that you can acclimate to his size. It takes no longer than a second as you release a guttural groan and wrap a leg around his waist, aiding him in hitting even deeper within you.

“Fuck!” you cry, throwing your head back against the cold metal as Art nips at your neckline again. You’re drowning beneath the blissful rocky wave and from the sounds that he’s making, almost re-enacting one of his matches just for you, you can tell that Art is too.

It happens so quickly that your mind struggles to understand it, spinning wildly as the wave pulls you under once more along with Art who finishes in a similar amount of time. You lean into his chest, breathing heavily as you take in the heavenly scent of his undoubtedly expensive cologne and slightly wincing as he pulls out of you slowly. He ducks to pick up your fallen towel as he starts to clean you up.

The realization that it’s over doesn't quite hit you until Art helps you get dressed, buckling his belt back up only once you’re decent and in return you hand him a spare shirt so he doesn’t have to redo every button on the one you’d nearly torn off him.

“Thanks,” he smiles gratefully, pulling on your shirt which fits tighter around him than it would around you, though it’s nothing to complain about as every miniscule ripple of muscle is on display.

You’re both thinking the exact same thing as you exit the locker room, hand in hand with the same guilty expression on your face as you pass an incoming janitor who is too busy scowling to ask Art what he was doing in the women’s locker room. It’s obvious from the encounter that it won’t be your last and as Art drives you to the planned frat party, you’re even sure that it’s not the last of the night.

Time proves you right as you’re seated next to Art a few weeks later, curled into his side as you share a large plate of the appetizer combo at a local Applebees. It was the only thing open after a long day of matches and meets and steamy rendezvous in between. The two of you were going on steadier than the trunks of ancient trees as you continue to support each other, you attending all of Art’s matches ( even if it meant skipping a practice or two) and Art cheering for you at all of your meets. You’re not sure if it’s the consistent attendance, but the both of you were only getting better at your respective hobbies by the day, particularly Art who hadn’t lost a match since meeting you.

You’re both jokingly arguing over who gets the last quesadilla when a familiar woman stops near your table, joined by a man you’d never seen before, though you recognize him from several of Art's detailed stories. He straightens beside you, gathering himself to greet the new company.

“Hey guys, long time no see!”

“Art,” Patrick nods to his friend before smiling to you and offering his hand, one that you take without a second thought. “I’m Patrick.”

“I know,” you admit. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You must be Tashi.” you turn to the girl and you can’t help, but analyze the peculiarities of her expression. It’s clear she is content with her own man of choice, but something about the way she looks at you tells you that she’s still involved in the tennis philosophy you managed to screw out of Art. She looks at you like you’re a player she’s lost to. And from what Art’s told you, you're certain it’s the first time Tashi has lost.

“It’s nice to meet you.” she fakes a smile before pulling Patrick to the door, careful not to stay long enough for the conversation to lead anywhere important. It’s awkward and strange, but you know it’s for the best. You’re not particularly interested in anything she has to say anyways.

“Did you see that?” you ask, pointing in the direction of the doorway that the couple had used for an easy escape.

“What?” Art wonders, looking towards you in anticipation.

“I think she’s looking for a new winner.”

Art leans in to peck the apple of your cheek, assurance that no matter the circumstance, he’ll never be available to the likes of Tashi Duncan again.

“Must be because I’ve won,” he reasons, “-because I have you and there’s nothing she can do to separate us.”

You smile at his sweet words, praying that he never ceases to use his talent for affectionate poetry as you lean in to kiss him. Whether he wins or loses or even never plays again, you couldn’t care less about the outcome of his career. As long as Art’s happy, you’re prepared to take on any challenge you’re put up to, whether on the court or in the pool.

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Adam x third spouse part 3 I’m begging pookie ❤️

like a time skip to when Charlie appeared and proposed the idea

Benifit of the doubt Pt.4

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, a little bit sad for a moment but it’s ok. Gn! Reader! honestly that’s about it I think?? Wow this is the first time it’s been this short in this series.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 4617~

A/n: So… it’s been almost 2 months… whoops. In all seriousness though I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve just not been in the mood to write and a lot of stuff has been happening (which is finally over) and I’m glad I could finally post this. I was also, if I’m honest, nervous to post this, cause I’m not sure if everyone’s ready for the direction of the story. But I have made it clear that I wanted to do a time skip to the show at somepoint and decided to do it now! If you enjoy this, please let me know cause I’m really nervous about (Not my words of affirmation love language coming out-) ALSO to the requester, I know you said part 3, but I used it for part 4. I got your request as I was making part 3 soooo my bad. Hope you don’t mind tho <3 this will be the last part before the angsty finale (and maybe an epilogue)

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Anyways this was NOT beta read unfortunately, I tried to get as many errors out during the writing process so hopefully it’s fine. Also, there’s probably some words I might have wanted to italicize or make bold that aren’t, but I’m too tired to care honestly.

Tags: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn @ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che @edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee (if I forgot someone or you want to be added just tell me !!)

Days turned to weeks, to months, to years. Until eventually an eon had passed. An entirety filled to the brim with an indescribable happiness and love, threatening to spill over at any given moment. You loved Adam and Adam loved you.

To say it was all happiness would be a lie, there were some moments of sadness and pain, but all relationships were like that, even ones that lasted for eternity. You both always bounced back, apologize and moved on with a stronger bond than before. And you loved every second of it.

A lot has changed in these last few eons. Adam formed a band and is now the most popular guitarist in all of heaven. You both made new friends, some got into heaven while others were made there. Emily was one of these people to you, she looked up to you for being older than her. You’ve existed for almost all of human existence so, of course she’d look up to you.

Adam had also made new friends, his band members, some officials in heaven, but someone he’s grown close to recently was Lute. You're really happy about his friendship with Lute. She seems like a strong and loyal friend, someone that can keep him grounded while still encouraging him to be more himself. Overall, you really liked her.

How they became friends though is something… less tasteful for you. All the way back when Heaven and Hell had their first meeting on what to do with the surplus of sinners in hell causing an uprising. Neither side came to an agreement in the end, you do feel partially to blame for that, but you still stand by what you did.

You never returned to any of the follow up meetings

But Adam did, surprisingly to you. In the end, you were called to talk with Sera and Adam. You were told of the agreement between Heaven and Hell, about the yearly “cleanse” that Adam and his “Exorcists” would have to commit. At first you were shocked, sure, you didn’t have the best experience with sinners and especially with the rulers of hell, but was death really necessary? You didn’t know what to say, and Adam clearly saw this.

“Babe, you alright?” He puts his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb in circles. You place your hand on his.

“Yeah it’s just a lot to take in. Are we sure it has to be done… that way?”

Sera looked down in pain “they’re… uprising and are becoming to much of a threat to heaven.”

You sighed as Adam took you in his arms. Adam was fully aware that you don’t share the same sentiment towards sinners as he does. His hatred towards the unholy souls down in hell was brought about by events that you simply cannot understand. Which he is thankful for, he never would want you to experience what he did.

“If there isn’t anything else we can do then… I guess we have no choice. But I don’t want to… kill anyone, even if they are sinners.”

Adam holds you closer “You won’t have to,” you smile at him, the now familiar flickering of his LED mask meeting your gaze before softly frown “you ok?”

You nod, “yeah, just…I wish there was another way.”

-

That was it. Adam would take his exorcists down to hell to kill as many sinners as they could each year. Adam knew you didn’t want him to talk about it , he kept it as separate as he could from your life. You did have to attend meetings regarding it, as one of the very few people to know about it, that was your duty.

You were fine with having that part of the job. You weren't sure if you could kill someone, sinner or not. So, for the countless years to follow, you played your part with every new extermination, attending meetings to deal with the repercussions of each cleanse.

Adam would also have to attend the occasional meeting. Which is exactly what today was. Sera had called you both in to talk.

“Thank you both for coming. I have to inform you that you will be attending a meeting tomorrow.”

Adam groaned “What! Again? This is like the 4th fuckin’ one this week! Ugh fine! Where is it this time? halo city? Cherub towne” Adam’s voice mocked the locations you’ve both been sent to countless times with a high pitched voice. Even you have to admit that the meetings could drag a bit.

Sera's face turned into a slight grimace as she looks away from you both, she sighs and continues “The meeting will be in… hell.”

“What!” Both your voices raise in shock

“Sera, you know I don’t want to go down there again!”

“Why can’t you just send the other fucking dipshits who know about-“ Adam crossed his arms defiantly

“Stop,” Sera raises her hand toward you both “no one wants to go there, and I know you both especially don’t.” She pauses “But you both are the only available angels who know of the cleanse that aren't busy. Please… I understand your disdain but heaven’s business comes first.”

“Who are we even gonna be talking to -Wait a damn minute- Don’t fucking tell me we have to talk to him.”

“I'm sorry…” You all sat in silence for a moment before Sera begins to speak again, “But you both won’t have to worry about physically being there, we have prepared holograms for you, so neither of you would be in any danger.”

“I'll have an Angel escort you to the ‘meeting’ room tomorrow, please, get some rest. I’m sure you both have had a long day.”

With that, you and Adam went home, you were definitely not feeling well about the meeting, but the fact you wouldn’t actually be there calms your nerves a bit. You had to be a little honest with yourself, hell wasn’t really the issue for you, it was more so the people. Lucifer for one, that made you feel uneasy.

The next morning, you and Adam got ready, you had to motivate him a little. He was clearly not excited for this meeting like you. The entire way there he held you close, even though nothing could have hurt you it made him feel better knowing how close you were.

On the way there, you also got Adam some ribs, his favorite. You thought it would help his nerves a bit. Turns out, Lute was the one Sera assigned to escort you both there. That also made you both a little calmer knowing a mutual friend would be there.

The three of you waited in the ‘meeting’ room for a while, about an hour. At first you thought the meeting might had been canceled or moved and you just weren't told. But then, Lute walked up to you both.

“Sir! The Seraphim has told me to inform you that there’s been a change in plans!”

“What? The fucks that mean?” Adam said stuffing a rib into his LED mouth

“Lucifer won’t be attending the meeting, instead… his Daughter will be here in his stead.” Lute’s mask showed a continuous frown and stern expression as she spoke.

“Daughter?” Your voice shook a little. This was news to you, as long as you’ve existed you had never heard he had a daughter while in hell. You look over to Adam to see His LED eyes were wide in shock but his mask turned into a smile as he sighed.

“Phew boy, we sure dodged a big ass bullet, huh Sweetcheeks?” He laughed as his arm pulled you closer. The whole thing caused you to join in. Suddenly your nerves felt a lot better than before.

“When should she be arriving, Lute?”

“Within the hour.”

-

Adam scarfed down another plate of ribs as you all wait for the “princess of hell” to arrive. The entire time you just had to wonder what kind of person she’d be. The daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. The more you thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed.

But suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sliding doors opening to the meeting room and a girl steps in, asking if anyone is there.

“She can’t see us?”

“Yeah, Sera gave me a long ass lector on how this stuff works before we got here. Let’s see here…” Adam pushes a button causing a click to sound out as he says “Sup!”

The girl jumps back and falls to the floor, shocked by Adam’s sudden appearance in the room. She introduces herself as Charlie. Adam offers her to shake his hand, only for it to go through.

“Ha! I fuckin’ got you! Did you fucking see that? Good shit.”

You let out a slight laugh, as you sit and watch the meeting happen. Well, you say “meeting” but nothing about it seemed very professional. Adam for the last hour (you honestly wasn’t sure at this point) had been talking about the most random of things.

You or Lute occasionally shakening your head yes or no while listening to him, while Charlie seemed quite tired already. Not that you could blame her, people who weren’t used to Adam’s banter definitely weren’t cut out for it. But You love every word that comes out of his mouth.

Eventually Adam decides that it’s time to get into what you all came here for. Pulling out a bunch of papers, Charlie begins explaining her solution to hell’s overpopulation. You were only really half listening at first, at least before she mentioned that her solution could stop the extermination which peaked your interest.

She explains her “Hazbin Hotel” and its purpose to rehabilitate sinners, you wanted to hear more of it but Adam cut her off.

The meeting didn’t really go that well, At least for Charlie. But the whole thing left quite the impression on you. The idea of ending the extermination was stuck in your head for so long, and now you had someone who had an alternative.

“Adam, are you sure that it couldn’t have worked?”

Adam looks at you in surprise “What? Do you think that shitshow could have actually worked?” He laughed as he placed a hand on your back. “Don’t even pay it any mind, alright Babe?”

“I know, it’s just… you know I don't like the extermination. So another way to lessen the population of hell should at least be looked into.” Your voice was soft enough to barely hear.

Adam’s gaze softened but he didn’t say another word, only wrapping his wing around you pulling you closer. You lean towards him, snuggling into his soft robe. No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. You needed to do something, anything.

So that night, after Adam fell asleep, you asked to talk with Sera. Leaving a note for Adam saying you went to buy something just in case he woke up.

“What is troubling you?” Sera’s voice was clear and concise.

You looked toward the ground, your nerves feeling tighter than ever, as you struggled with how to put your words together. “You're aware of all that happened in the meeting with Lucifer’s Daughter, right?”

Sera nods her head “of course, all meetings are documented about as they happen.” She tilts her head slightly “What about it?”

“Well!” You steel yourself before continuing “I would like permission to observe Charlie Morningstar’s ‘Hazbin Hotel’”

Sera’s eyes widen, breaking her calm demeanor before giving a firm “No”

“But-“

“It’s too dangerous for you to be there, Adam wouldn’t want that anyways”

“He would listen if it was an order from you!” Your eyes felt watery but you continued “Please Sera… I know you don’t want the extermination to continue. Just let me do this!”

Sera looked away from you, her feelings evident on her face, any mask now down. ‘Just a little more’ you thought

“Sera, I promise you, I’ll be careful! We don’t even have to fully support them yet, just let me observe them. It would be devastating if so many souls parish if we failed to seek all options!” You beg

Sera sighed, shakingly “…I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes gleamed up at the tall woman “Sera, thank you, thank you!” You wanted to hug her but out of courtesy, you advised against it.

Sera tells you that she can’t guarantee anything but she will try as she sends you home to rest.

-

A few days past after that and you haven’t heard anything from Sera. It was a little worrying and felt like a bad sign to you. That was, until you were informed by Sera that your request was accepted!

“But.” Sera stops you before you can celebrate “You're only there to keep track of the progress and to make sure nothing is happening under our noses” You nod your head in understanding

“Also…” she pauses “If anything involving this hotel happens, you will have to take full responsibility, understood?”

You nod again “yes I understand. Have you… told Adam yet?”

She shakes her head

“Ok… can you… not tell him it was my idea, please. I don’t think he’d agree if he knew.”

Sera sighs before nodding her head “Very well, I’ll tell him after you leave”

“Thank you.”

-

You return home, when you got back Adam was already gone, Sera must have already called him to the office. You dreaded when he got back. You didn’t want to see him upset, it hurt you to know how worried he was for you.

A few hours later, Adam comes through the door in a panic. He stomps up to you and pulls you into a warm and intense embrace.

“Don’t go down there. I need you here with me” his voice hitches as his wings wrap around you both, curling you both into a warm and feathery ball.

“Adam…” you paused, was this really the best thing to do? No, It had to be. If this goes well, not only will the extermination stop but Adam wouldn’t have to go down to hell ever again.

“Adam, you know I can’t go against Sera’s orders.” You kiss his cheek “and I won’t be gone forever, I’m only supposed to be there till the next cleanse. Not to mention, I’ll always come back to see you.”

Adam grumbled a little “I know, I just… don’t like you being in the same place that bastard is, and in his brat’s stupid hotel! ”

You laugh softly “Adam…” grabbing his hand, you put yours in it, showing off the gold ring on your finger “I’ll never forget my promise. You know that, right?”

Adam looks at the ring, the gold wrapped around your finger with a perfectly snug fit. Everytime he looked at it was just a reminder of your love for him. That promise was something he could never forget. He slowly raises your hand to his LED mask, kissing the back of it. “Of course not.”

“Good. I promise I’ll be fine, ok?”

He nods. Hand in hand, you slowly lead you both to the bed. The both of you lay next to each other, your bodies linked together like knots. You slwoly remove his helmet from his head, laying it on the nightstand.

Your hands move up his body before landing on his face, cupping his cheeks before pulling him to a kiss before snuggling into his chest.

-

Finally it was Time for you to leave. Sera allowed you to create portals back to heaven in case anything happened and you were in need of assistance. Adam walked you to the front gate.

“Ok, do you have everything? You didn’t forget that fucking angelic dagger I had Lute get for you right-“

You shush him “Adam, I told you I’ll be fine!”

He’s sighs “Damn it- I know that but just make sure to text me while your there ok-

You kiss him deeply “Adam. I know, you’ve told me a hundred times.” You smile as you cup his face “I love you”

He sighs “Love you too Sweetcheeks”

With one final kiss, you give Adam a tight hug before waving goodbye as you went through the flaming portal. As you went through, you take a second to look at your surroundings. In front of you was a tall building. You take a few steps back to see LED lights of a sign flashing the words ‘Hazbin Hotel’

You let out a sigh of relief. You had been a tad bit worried you’d spawn somewhere random and you’d have to find the building yourself. But it seems heaven at least spared you of that.

The red skies of hell were quite different from the pristine blue ones of heaven. Even though you just got here, you could already hear the sounds of screams and explosions in the distance. How welcoming.

You steel yourself and with three hard knocks to the door, you wait for someone to open it. Muffled Scurrying sounds of footsteps approach the door before it creaks open revealing the young blond woman in the doorframe, Charlie Morningstar.

“Hi! I’m-“

The door is slammed shut, Before opening again

“Be not afraid-“

It shuts again…

Well, this may be a bit harder than you initially anticipated. You go to knock again only for it to open once more. This time, the door doesn’t close again, instead the girl mutters a quick “Hi” before going quiet.

“Hello! I didn’t mean to scare you!” You give a small laugh before continuing “I believe we met a couple days ago?” You bring your hand towards her for a shake, to which she reciprocates.

“During the meeting with.. Adam? Right?” She grimaced when she mentioned Adam, which you decided to ignore, you simply smiled and nodded. ”but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

You tell her about yourself, about how your there to stay and monitor any progress the hotel may have. You made sure to pronounce ‘may.’ While you were hoping for this idea to show some kind of positive results, even you weren’t sure if it’d would work.

“Charlie? who’s at the door- WhatHolyShit-“ a woman with a red X over her eye suddenly shouts in surprise. You look over at her, She looked very familiar…

“Wait, you are-“

“Vaggie! Charlie’s sinner girlfriend! And you are?!” The woman known as Vaggie, highlighted the word sinner while performing a “be quiet” gesture with her hand. Your eyes widen a little at the ex-Angel in front of you but you simply smile a nod “I’m Y/n, I don’t believe we’ve met, yes?”

Look, lying is the last thing you’d want to do as a citizen of heaven but you figured that it would be fine if it was to protect someone. Vaggie nodded, her face scrunched up in a tense look.

“You feeling ok Vaggie? You’re looking a little… red?”

“I’m fine! *ahem*, Hun, how about you give them a tour of the hotel.”

Charlie gasped “Yes that's perfect, you may as well get acquainted with everyone if you’re going to be here more often!”

Charlie ran off, telling you “this way! This way!” Over and over. Before you went to follow her, you leaned toward Vaggie and said a quick “Relax, I won’t tell anyone.”

She lets out a sigh before muttering “Thank you”

You both follow Charlie as she shows you the various rooms in the hotel before leading you back to the hotel’s lobby and lounge area.

“Hey! Hello everyone!” Charlie’s voice picked up a little “I’d like to introduce you to our uh… new staff member?” You nod in agreement with the title. The room in front of you was shrouded in looks of both horror and amazement.

“What the hell’s an angel doin’ here?” A lanky spider demon spoke up first

“It’sss an ambush! seek Cover!!” The Snake demon shouted, seemingly grabbing an army helmet from thin air before taking a deep dive behind the couch.

“No Pentious-” She sighs “they’re here to monitor the hotel! Heaven sent them to scout any potential progress the hotel will have”

“It’s nice to meet you all” you look at the people in front of you, to say it was a colorful cast would be an understatement.

“These two are our current tenants of the hotel! Angel dust and Sir Pentious!”

The snake slithered slowly from behind the couch up to you, while the Spider demon remained rested on the couch

“Oh… *ahem* Excuse me dear! I am Sir. Pentious! Formally known as ‘the Architect of destruction’!” He laughs, a slight hiss sounding in his voice.

He offers a handshake which you accept. To which you immediately regret. ‘ Slimey’ you thought, before wiping your, now wet hand on your clothes.

The spider demon, who you now know as Angel Dust, just gives a wave with one of his 4 arms.

“And-“ Charlie extends the word as she quickly walk to a bar by the entrance “this is the recreational area, run by our Bartender, Husk!”

The winged bartender seemed entirely uninterested in your presence or even Charlie’s. The most you got was a small glance before he takes a swig of his alcohol and walks off.

“He’s not the most… social guy in hell” she awkwardly laughs before moving on to the next person. “And this is Nifty, our one and only maid at the hotel! Nifty say hi.”

The short woman scurried moved around you, her eye quickly looking at every every nook and cranny of you as she moved. She made numerous attempts to touch and grab various things on you, your clothes, wings, and eventually she tried to climb up you to get to your halo. That’s when you finally grabbed her in place “you're a… fast one, huh? Nice to meet you!”

“And last but not least! This is Alastor, the hotel’s executive producer and our first -and only- overlord sponsor!”

Immediately, you could tell there was something off about Alastor. The entire aura he gave off was as if he was restraining something completely and utterly ungodly. The static that surrounded him was just one of many whispers you could hear from his soul.

“Hello! It’s quite a pleasure to meet someone of your… holy status!” He offers a hand to which you, hesitantly, shake. “And what do we owe the pleasure for your service?”

“They’re going to be here to keep track of the progress of the hotel…” Charlie paused “you know I’m starting to sound like a broken record- here, it’s late, how about we all get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning!”

“Fine by me, I am waaay too sober to be having social interaction this late” Angel picks himself up and stretches “I’m gonna hit the hay”

“Here I’ll show you to your room!” Charlie smiles “We -obviously- didn’t have time to make your own so I hope you don’t mind using one of the guest rooms” she laughs

She and Vaggie walks you to your new room before leaving you be, The room was nothing more than just your average hotel room. Of course it did have its differences, a multitude of… eyes seem to be on the wall, staring at you. Well, that’s not the least alarming.

You place your stuff down and begin unpacking, you mostly just brought the basics. Clothes, hygiene stuff, your phone, and, most importantly, a framed photo of Adam.

You sat the photo on your nightstand, angling it just right so that it would always be visible to you. As you do so, you think about the memory the photo brings, you took it on one of the first dates you went on with Adam. It was a relatively tame date, you and Adam, having a picnic by a lake at night. You brought candles so you both weren’t completely in the dark, and you just loved the way he looked, his golden eyes watching the water. The dim candle light illuminating his face with a warm golden shade. Adam hates photos of him with his mask off but… You just had to keep that moment in time forever.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

Speak of the- well, you know the rest. The bright light from the phone comes with the notification sound displaying Adam in bold letters. You smile as you read his messages.

Dixkmaster69

Heyy Sweetcheeks, it’s been a bit since you left

You there??

Fucking answer

You let out a small laugh at Adam’s barrage of messages. He’s not used to you being away from him for more than a day, huh? Not that you could blame him, this is honestly nothing compared to how you feel each year he has to do the extermination.

Sweetcheeks

Hey love

Everything’s fine, I’m ok.

Aside from not having you with me :’(

Dixkmaster69

Fucking finally

You know you don’t have to do this

If I bitch enough to Sera I can get you back by tomorrow

Sweetcheeks

Please don’t, Sera already has enough on her plate.

I promise I’m going to be fine

I’ll be back before you know it.

Dixkmaster69

I know

This shit just worries me

Gonna miss hearing your sexy ass voice at night too ;)

You blush at the message before sighing. Whenever you or Adam approached a topic that made him uncomfortable, he would always try to change the subject to something that made him feel better. You knew why, Adam’s someone who rarely talked about his feelings, even after all these eons together that was something he hadn’t changed. You knew exactly what he needed, even if he didn’t explicitly tell you.

Sweetcheeks

I already miss yours too <3

Do you want to help me fall asleep with that heavenly voice of yours on the phone?

Dixkmaster69

Whatever you want Sweetcheeks <3

You smile when, almost immediately, Adam begins calling your phone. You click the lights off before You make your way in your new bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes you’ve been wearing. You grab the cover and pull it over you and tapping the answer button.

“Sup”

You yawn “Hey handsome, I missed your voice”

You hear his voice hitch before he caused on “Of course you did, no one has a better voice than the dick master. But uh, yours is a close second”

You’re let out a tired giggle, “such a charmer, you. How’s your day been huh?”

“Oh! don’t even get me started on that- Lute took me to get some ribs to ‘calm my nerves’ or some shit and they had me, ME, wait in line for like 15 minutes! The fucking audacity!”

You smile to yourself as Adam tells you about his day, the sound of his voice was like a sweet lullaby to your ears and you couldn’t get enough of it. But eventually…

“And then when I got home, I couldn’t find my damn charger and it took me like 40 fuckin’ minutes to realize it was under our bed, do you have any idea of how it keeps getting there?” He waits for you to respond only to be met with silence. “Uh bitch, I’m talking to you.”

More silence… well no, actually if Adam focused on listening, he could hear the faint sound of your snoring from the phone. Adam sighs,”Long day, huh?”

Adam lays back in your shared bed, getting comfortable. He sets the phone beside him, plugging it in while keeping it on speaker. He yawns, “Goodnight Sweetheart, can’t wait to see you again”

Slowly, the soft sounds of both yours and Adam’s snores filled each others rooms, a distant, but intimate connection. Even in slumber, you couldn’t stop thinking of your handsome and caring soulmate.

[tregearix]

SINNERS

ITZY Yeji X Male Reader Smut

You sit quietly in the pew, trying to focus on the priest's sermon, but your mind keeps wandering to the stunning woman on your left. A really beautiful woman with porcelain skin seems to glow in the candlelight. You find yourself sneaking glances at her lips as she hums along to the hymns. You also notices a man sit next to her with a little girl on his lap. And then you realize they must be a family.

Get a grip, you scold yourself silently. She's married. Off limits.

But as the service drones on, you can't help but steal more peeks at the beautiful woman. The way her silky hair falls over her shoulders, the graceful curve of her neck, the cleavage beneath her modest blouse...

Your face flushes with shame and arousal. You shift uncomfortably, trying to will away the stirrings in your groin. This is wrong. I shouldn't be thinking about her like this.

Just then, the woman turns to you with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling. "The sermon are boring isn't it," she whispers conspiratorially.

You feel your cheeks burn as the gorgeous woman leans in close, her sweet breath tickling your ear. "Uh, yeah, a bit," you whisper hoarsely, trying not to stammer. Your heart races, pounding in your chest as you steal another glance at her thin, luscious lips.

Yeji giggles softly, her hand brushing against yours as she shifts position. "I'm Yeji, by the way," she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. "What's your name?"

Her touch sends electricity through your body, making your cock twitch in your pants. You swallow hard, struggling to maintain your composure.

You say your name a bit haltingly, your voice cracking slightly. "Nice to meet you Yeji."

Yeji smiles, her eyes roaming over your face appreciatively. "Likewise," she purrs. "You know, I've seen you here before. I always notice you sitting alone."

Before you can answer her question, she leans in even closer, her breasts pressing against your arm. You can smell her perfume, a heady mix of jasmine and vanilla that makes your head spin.

"Tell me something," she breathes, her lips barely an inch from yours. "Are you always this... distracted during sermons? Or is it just something about me?"

Her question hangs in the air between you, heavy with implication. You feel like you might faint, your heart hammering so loudly that makes you worried everyone in the church will hearing it.

You try to play it cool, but your voice comes out shaky. "What do you mean? I'm just... well, I'm not feeling too great today, that's all."

You shift on your seat, trying to will away the persistent ache in your groin. Damn it, not now. You pray silently, hoping Yeji doesn't notice the growing bulge on your pants.

"Yeah, must be coming down with something," You mutter lamely, avoiding her gaze. You can feel her eyes on you, studying your face intently.

Please, just drop it, You beg internally. I can't handle this right now. But even as you think it, you know it's a lost cause. Yeji has you under her spell, and there's no escape.

Yeji's eyes flick down to your crotch for a split second before meeting your gaze again, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, I think I know exactly what you're coming down with," she teases, her voice dripping with innuendo.

She shifts in her seat, crossing her legs slowly and deliberately. The movement causes her skirt to ride up slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her smooth, creamy thighs.

Holy shit, you think, your mouth going dry. Is she seriously flirting with me right now? In church?

But even as the thought crosses your mind, you find yourself leaning in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her scent fills your nostrils - a heady mix of perfume and something else, something primal and intoxicating.

"You know," Yeji murmurs, her hand coming to rest on your thigh. Her touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. "I have a confession to make."

She leans in even closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "I'm not happy in my marriage. My husband... he doesn't satisfy me anymore."

You glance nervously at Yeji's husband, who's sitting beside her with their daughter on his lap, fully focusing on the sermon, oblivious to his wife conversation with you. Turning back to Yeji, your eyes widen in shock and confusion.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper hoarsely, voice trembling slightly. "You're not happy in your marriage? What are you talking about?"

You also glance around, worried that other congregants might overhear the hushed exchange between the both of you. Your heart pounds on your chest as you struggle to process Yeji's bombshell revelation.

Yeji's eyes gleam with mischief and desire as she leans in even closer, her breath hot against your ear. "Exactly what I said," she purrs, her hand sliding further up your thigh. "My husband... he's a good man, but he can't satisfy me the way I need to be satisfied."

Her fingers brush against the bulge in your pants, making you gasp involuntarily. You feel your cock twitch and harden under her touch, straining against the fabric of your pants.

"I see the way you look at me," Yeji murmurs, her lips grazing your jaw. "I know you want me. And I want you too. I want you so badly, and it hurts."

She presses herself against you, her breasts squishing against your arm as she grinds her hips subtly against your thigh. The heat of her body seeps through your clothes, making you shiver with anticipation.

"Meet me at the storage room in 5 minutes," she breathes, her hand cupping your hardness through your pants. "We can... talk more privately there."

With that, she pulls away, leaving you aching and desperate, your mind reeling with the implications of her words. You watch her turn back to her husband, plastering on a sweet smile as if nothing had happened.

Is this really happening? A beautiful married woman is trying to hook up with me? Your head is spinning, trying to process the incredible turn of events.

You watch in disbelief as Yeji gets up from the pew, murmuring something to her oblivious husband. She glances back at you, her eyes smoldering with desire, before sauntering down the aisle.

You adjust yourself discreetly, trying to ease the ache in your crotch. Your cock is rock hard, straining against the confines of your pants. You can't remember the last time you was this turned on.

As Yeji disappears around the corner, you take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. This day was supposed to be a normal Sunday for you but then this is happening. Your mind is battling away - should you go or not?.

Seconds goes by, minute after minute, and you still can't make your choice. You glance at Yeji's husband and daughter anxiously.

Fuck, what do I do? You think to yourself, palms sweating. This is wrong, she's married. But god, the way she was looking at me...

You shift uncomfortably on your seat, your cock throbbing painfully in your pants. You know you should probably just stay put, but the temptation to following Yeji to the storage room is overwhelming.

Screw it, You decide finally, standing up on shaky legs. I'm going to see where this leads, consequences be damned.

You slip out of the pew, trying to act casual as you make your way towards the church annex where the storage room is located. Your heart pounding loudly in your chest, your steps quickening with each passing second, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

What am I doing? you think frantically, your mind a whirlwind of excitement and anxiety. This is crazy. I could get caught. Her husband could find out.

But even as the rational part of your brain screams at you to turn back, your feet carry you forward, drawn to Yeji like a magnet. You reach the door to the storage room, your hand trembling as you reach for the handle.

Taking a deep breath, you push the door open, stepping inside. The room is dimly lit, filled with dusty boxes and old furniture. But there, in the corner, stands Yeji, her eyes glittering with desire.

"I knew you'd come," she purrs, sauntering towards you. Her heels click on the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

"I couldn't resist," you admit, your voice rough with need. "You're just... irresistible."

Yeji laughs, a low, seductive sound. "Flattery will get you everywhere, mister," she says, reaching out to trail a finger down your chest. "Now, why don't you show me just how irresistible you find me?"

Your breath catches in your throat as she presses herself against you, her hands roaming over your body. You can feel every curve of her, every soft inch of skin. It's intoxicating, overwhelming.

"Fuck, Yeji," you groan, your cock throbbing almost painfully in your pants. "You're driving me crazy."

With that, you crashed your lips against hers, kissing her with a hunger that steals her breath away. Yeji hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer and deeper. You kiss her like a man starved, like she's the only thing that matters in the world. And for this moment, in this dimly lit storage room, she is.

Your hands roam greedily over Yeji's curves, feeling the smooth, supple skin beneath her clothes. You palm her breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, feeling her nipples harden under my touch. She moans into your mouth, muffled by the sounds of furious kissing.

You slide your hands lower, skimming over her waist and hips, gripping her ass and pulling her flush against you. You grind your rock-hard cock against her, letting her feel how much you wanted her, how desperately you need to be inside her.

"Fuck, Yeji," You groan, breaking the kiss to trail your lips down her neck. "You will be the death of me."

She gasps, tilting her head to give me better access to her sensitive skin.

You continue to explore Yeji's body with your hands and lips, reveling in the soft moans and gasps that spill from her mouth. Your fingers slip under her blouse, caressing the smooth skin of her back, tracing the lacy edge of her bra.

"Please..." she breathes, arching into your touch. "Touch me..." she whimpers needily.

Her words send a bolt of pure lust straight to your cock, making it throb almost painfully in your pants. You slip your hand around to her front, cupping her breast and squeezing gently. Her nipple is hard against your palm, straining against the thin fabric of her bra.

"I need you too, Yeji," you growl, your voice rough with desire. "I need to taste you, to feel you..."

With that, you drop to your knees in front of her, your hands sliding up her thighs to bunch her skirt around her waist. You bury your face between her legs, inhaling deeply. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating, making your head spin with want.

You nuzzle against her clothed pussy, feeling the heat of her through the damp fabric of her panties. She tangles her fingers in your hair, tugging gently as she grinds against your face.

"Oh yes.." she moans, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Oh god, yes..."

You hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties and tug them aside, exposing her glistening pink folds to your hungry gaze. You lean in, running your tongue along her slit, tasting her essence on your lips.

She cries out, her grip on your hair tightening as she rocks her hips against your mouth. You lap at her eagerly, savoring the sweet nectar of her arousal, your tongue delving deep to stroke her most sensitive spots.

"Fuck," she gasps, her thighs trembling around your ears. "Don't stop, please don't stop..."

You have no intention of stopping. You're going to make her cum, to make her forget about everything except the feeling of your tongue on her pussy. You're going to ruin her just like she desired, you're gonna make her crave you like a drug.

And as you redouble your efforts, as her moans grow louder and more desperate. You pull away from Yeji's dripping pussy for a moment, looking up at her with lust-filled eyes. "Shh," You whisper urgently, reminding her where we are. "Don't be too loud."

She bites her lip, nodding in understanding as she tries to stifle her moans. You grin wickedly before diving back in, your tongue delving deep into her tight channel. You lap at her greedily, savoring her sweet taste and the way her thighs tremble around your ears.

"Mmmph..." she whimpers, her fingers tangling in your hair as she rocks her hips against your face.

You double down your efforts again, determined to make her cum hard on your tongue. Your nose brushes against her clit as you tongue-fuck her, the lewd wet sounds filling the storage room. You can feel her getting closer, her pussy clenching around your tongue.

"Give it to me Yeji," You growl against her sensitive flesh. "Cum for me, baby. Let me taste that sweet nectar."

Her whole body goes rigid, her back arching as she throws her head back in ecstasy. "Fuuuck!" she cries out, her pussy gushing around your tongue as she rides out her intense orgasm.

You lap it all up, drinking down her delicious juices like a man dying of thirst. You don't stop until she's trembling and whimpering. Her thighs shaking so much, threatening to giving up.

You pull back, licking your lips in satisfaction as you admire your handiwork. Yeji is sprawled against the wall, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed over with pleasure.

"Holy shit," she pants, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "That was... incredible."

You stand up, pressing yourself against her, letting her feel the hard length of your cock straining against my zipper. "Oh, we're just getting started, beautiful," you promise darkly, your hands sliding down to grip her ass.

Yeji's eyes widen as she feels the hard length of your cock pressing against her. She licks her lips, her gaze smoldering with desire.

"Mmm, I can't wait to feel that inside me," she purrs, grinding her hips against yours. "I want you to fuck me so hard, I won't be able to walk straight for a week."

You groan, your cock throbbing at her words. You reach down, undoing your belt and zipper to free your aching erection. It springs out, slapping against your stomach, already dripping with pre-cum.

Yeji's eyes widen as she takes in the sight of your impressive length. "Oh my," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around your shaft. "You're even bigger than I imagined."

You hiss through your teeth as she starts to stroke you, her hand gliding up and down your length. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of her touch.

"Fuck, Yeji," you groan, your head falling back against the wall. "That feels so good."

She smiles wickedly, her hand speeding up, twisting on the upstroke just the way you like it. "I want to make you feel good," she purrs, her other hand reaching down to cup your balls. "I want to make you cum so hard until you'll see stars."

Yeji sinks to her knees in front of you, her eyes never leaving yours as she reaches for your throbbing cock. Her small, delicate hand wraps around your thick shaft, barely able to encircle its girth.

"Mmm, you're so big," she purrs, stroking you slowly. "I can't wait to taste you."

You groan as she leans in, her hot breath ghosting over the sensitive head of your cock. Her tongue darts out, licking a bead of pre-cum from the slit. The sensation is electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine.

"Fuck, Yeji," You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily.

She smiles up at you, her eyes glinting with mischief before she parts her lips and takes you into the wet heat of her mouth. You let out a low moan as she starts to suck, her head bobbing up and down your length.

It's almost too much to bear. The sight of a gorgeous woman on her knees, worshipping a cock, this is the stuff of every man's fantasies. You tangle your fingers in her hair, guiding her movements as she takes you deeper.

"That's it, baby," You groan, your voice strained with pleasure. "Suck my cock just like that. Fuck, you're so good at this."

Yeji looks up at you, her eyes watering slightly as she takes you to the back of her throat. She relaxes her jaw, letting you slide even deeper, until you feel the head of your cock bumping against the entrance to her throat.

You let out a guttural moan, your hips thrusting forward involuntarily. "Jesus, Yeji," You gasp, your fingers tightening in her hair. "You're amazing."

Yeji moans around your cock, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body. She bobs her head faster, taking you deeper into her throat with each downward motion. Her tongue swirls around the sensitive head of your cock, teasing the slit and lapping up the pre-cum that leaks from the tip.

"Mmmph... mmmm..." she hums, the sound muffled by your thick shaft stretching her lips.

Your head falls back, your eyes closing as you lose yourself in the incredible sensations. Yeji's mouth is pure heaven, hot, wet and perfect. You can feel your orgasm building, your balls tightening as she works you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, Yeji," you pant, your hips thrusting shallowly as you fight the urge to cum. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum..."

She pulls off with a lewd pop, her hand stroking your shaft as she looks up at you with hooded eyes. "Do it," she urges, her voice husky with desire. "Cum for me, I want to taste it."

With a guttural groan, you let go, your cock pulsing as you shoot your load into her waiting mouth. She moans in delight, her tongue lapping at your shaft as she swallows every last drop of your cum.

You almost sag down to the floor, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Yeji stands up, licking her lips as she savors the taste of you.

"That was incredible," she purrs, pressing herself against you. "But we're not done yet, are we?"

You shake your head, "Not even close," You growl, your voice rough with desire. You can feel your shaft hardening again, rising to attention as if begging for more of Yeji's touch.

"You're insatiable," she teases, her hand wrapping around your thick length and giving it a squeeze. You hiss in pleasure, your hips bucking into her touch.

"Only for you," you pant, your hands gripping her hips tightly. "I want to fuck you so hard, you'll be feeling me for days."

Yeji's eyes darken with lust, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Then what are you waiting for?" she purrs, turning around and bending over a nearby crate. She looks back at you over her shoulder, her skirt flipped up to reveal her perfect, round ass. "Take me, make me yours."

You don't need to be told twice. You step forward, your cock throbbing with anticipation as you lined up behind her. You rub the head of your shaft through her wet folds, coating it in her arousal.

"Fuck, you're so wet," You groan, your fingers digging into her hips. "I can't wait to be inside you."

With that, you thrust forward, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight heat. You both cry out at the sudden intrusion, your bodies joining as one. You pause for a moment, savoring the feeling of her walls clenching around you.

"God, you feel amazing," You pant, your hips starting to move. "So tight, so perfect."

Yeji moans, pushing back against you, urging you to go deeper, harder. And you comply, your hips snapping forward as you begin to fuck the married woman with abandon. The storage room echoes with the lewd sounds of your coupling, the slap of skin on skin, the creaking of the crate.

"Yes.. yes.. yes..!" Yeji cries out, her fingers scrabbling on the rough wood. "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

"Shhh, be quiet Yeji," The faint voice of the priest on the mic reminded where we are right now, but you obliged her request, your thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. You lean over her, your chest pressed against her back as you piston in and out of her sopping wet cunt.

"Take it, Yeji," You growl in her ear, your hand snaking around to rub her clit. "Take my cock like you were made for it."

Yeji cries out, her body shaking with pleasure as you pound into her. "Yes, just like that!" she moans, her fingers digging into the wood of the crate. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

You can feel her getting closer, her pussy clenching around your cock like a vice. You redouble your efforts, your hips slapping against her ass with each powerful thrust. Your fingers work her clit, rubbing it in tight circles as you bring her closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," you pant, your own orgasm building in your core. "Cum for me. Cum on my cock."

With a keening wail, Yeji's body goes rigid, her pussy spasming around your shaft as she cums hard.

You didn't slow down, not even for a second. You fucked Yeji even harder as she came, your hips slamming into hers with bruising force. You could feel her pussy clenching and fluttering around your cock, trying to milk you dry, and it felt fucking incredible.

The storage room was hot and stuffy, the air heavy with the scent of sex. The world outside faded as you continued fucking the married woman. You aware how taboo and sinful it is, to fucking a married woman in a church, but you didn't care. All you cared about was the feeling of Yeji's tight cunt gripping you, the way she moaned and writhed beneath you.

You angled your hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her seeing stars. "Fuck, Yeji," You gasped, your balls drawing up tight. "You feel so fucking good."

You could feel your second release is barreling down, your cock throbbing and twitching inside her. But you held back, determined to make her cum again before you let yourself go.

Your fingers finding her clit again, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. "Come on, baby," You urged, your voice strained with the effort of holding back your own orgasm. "Give me another one. Cum all over my cock like a good slut you are."

Yeji's body trembles under your touch, her pussy clenching and unclenching around your throbbing cock as you play with her clit. "Oh my god," she moans, her voice high and breathy. "I'm... I'm gonna... oh fuck!"

Her words dissolve into a wordless cry of ecstasy as she comes again, her pussy gushing around your shaft. You followed behind her, with a guttural groan you let go, your hips slamming into hers one last time as you bury yourself as deep as possible inside her.

"Fuck, Yeji!" You cursed, your cock pulsing as you fill her with your seed. "Take it all, baby. Take my cum."

Yeji's body goes limp, her forehead resting on the crate as she tries to catch her breath. You collapse on top of her, your cock softening, still buried deep inside her. Your chest heaving as you try to regain your breath.

After a moment, you pull out, watching as your combined fluids drips out of her well-fucked hole. You scoop some up with your fingers, bringing it to her lips. "Taste us," You murmur, your voice husky with satisfaction.

Yeji parts her lips, sucking your fingers into her mouth and licking them clean. "Mmm," she purrs, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "We taste good together."

You smile, leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You both stay like that for a moment, lost in each other, before reality starts to creep back in.

"We should probably get cleaned up," You murmur reluctantly, pulling away. "Before someone comes looking for us."

You both quickly fix your clothes and clean up any evidence of the tryst. You tuck your semi-hard cock back into your pants, wincing slightly as you do. It's still sensitive from the intense fucking session, the fabric of your pants feels rough against your skin. You zip up, trying to ignore the lingering ache in your balls.

Yeji smooths down her skirt and blouse, running her fingers through her hair to tame the wild strands. She looks flushed and satisfied, a secret smile playing on her lips.

"That was amazing," she murmurs, her voice low and husky. "I can't believe we're just having sex on church."

You grin, pulling her close for one last kiss. "Believe it, baby. And that was fucking incredible."

You both take a moment to catches breath, your hearts racing as you come down from the high of illicit encounter. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we went," You say reluctantly. "You go first, remember to look around first, I'll go after a few minutes".

Yeji nods, giving you one last heated glance before slipping out of the storage room. You wait a beat, your heart pounding in your chest as you listen for any signs of movement outside.

When you're sure the coast is clear, you step out into the empty hallway, your senses on high alert.

You slip back into the main sanctuary, you make your way to your seat, trying to act casual as you sit down again next to Yeji. She's engrossed in conversation with her husband and daughter, seemingly unaffected by what just happened between the both of you.

You glance towards church altar, realizing that the sermon is almost over. The priest is wrapping up his final points, preparing for the closing prayer. You try to focus on his words, but your mind keeps drifting back to the feel of Yeji's body, the taste of her on my tongue. You sneak a glance at Yeji, wondering if she's feeling the same way, are she's thinking about you as much as you thinking about her.

But she's all smiles and laughter with her family, the picture of the perfect wife and mother. No one would ever guess that just moments ago, she was on her knees in a storage room, worshipping another man's cock like it was her reason for living.

The thought of it sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to bite back a groan. As the congregation rises for the final prayer, you bow your head, your eyes squeezed shut. But you're not praying for forgiveness or redemption. You're praying for another chance, another opportunity to get lost in Yeji's body, to forget about everything else except the feel of her skin against yours.

It's a dangerous game you're playing, you know that. But you can't seem to stop yourself. Yeji has gotten under your skin, and you don't think the tryst memory you have with her in the storage room will going away easily.

The sermon ends and the congregation begins to disperse, chatting amongst themselves as they file out of the pews. You hang back, watching as Yeji gathers up her daughter and husband, leading them towards the exit.

You hesitate for a moment, torn between following her and keeping your distance. But the magnetic pull of her body, the memory of her taste on your tongue, is too strong to resist. You fall into step behind them, keeping a discreet distance as you follow them out into the bright sunlight.

As they reach the parking lot, Yeji turns to her husband, exchanging a quick kiss before ushering their daughter into the backseat of their car. You watch as she slides into the front seat, her husband climbing in beside her.

Just before he closes the door, Yeji glances up, her eyes locking with yours. For a moment, you see a flash of heat, of unspoken promise, before she looks away, her expression once again the picture of wifely devotion.

The car pulls out of the lot, and you're left standing there, your heart racing, your mind reeling with the possibilities of what might happen next.

[pullupinarari]

Someone to share my life with [LH]

author’s note: at this point, posting fics at 4 am is like my signature or something 🧍‍♀️ anyway, I'm obsessed with dad!Lewis and I could write this AU for the rest of my life. hope you girlies enjoy this!! 🩷 mwah

• masterlist

wc: 3982 - english is not my first language! feedback is always appreciated

Becoming a dad truly has changed Lewis. It has changed his life, his being - he feels like he was reborn three years ago, when he first got to hold his daughter in his arms. 

The tears that warmed his eyes when her tiny hand grabbed his finger for the first time, the surprised look erupting through his features when she first said ‘dada’ - with her small arms stretched so she could hug her hero.

Grace is Lewis’ world, and everyone around you knows it - it’s undeniable. He feels alive when he gets to spend all his free time with the light of his life, passing on to her the most precious values that he holds inside of his heart, the ones that guide him to be the man he is today. 

Nothing compares to the warmth that spreads across his chest when he looks at her, realizing that she is his daughter, and that he will have the opportunity to hold her and care for her until his last breath. 

Lewis is eternally grateful to you: for accepting him as your husband, to hop on this journey of a lifetime with him, but, above it all, for choosing him to be the father of your children - the most important role of his entire life. 

Every time he needs to be away from Grace, he makes sure to hug her extra close, holding her a bit longer, saving each touch, each kiss, as close to him as he possibly can. 

Sometimes, Lewis catches himself staring at his daughter’s face, mesmerized by the way he can see his own features when he looks at her. And when he gets to hear her belly laugh… he has no doubt that you and him had created the most precious thing of your lives - and that her chocolate eyes will never be able to reflect everything that he feels for his princess.

Her smile is his home, now. And Lewis just prays that, wherever Grace goes, that she can always keep her daddy close to her - in the memories of the moments they are building together, in the hugs that lasted longer so they could savor the feeling of their hearts beating in sync.

Watching his baby girl grow up through a facetime call broke Lewis in ways that he could never put into words, the distance and demands of his work, his chaotic routine getting in the way of his daughter’s first words, first steps. 

Lewis is sure that he will never forget the way he sobbed so hard when he opened a message from you, with a video attached of his daughter taking her first steps. He wishes that he could live in slow motion sometimes, wishing that time could slow down, wanting his days to have more than 24 hours, so he could dedicate more time to his family. 

Having to push every day without being able to have you and your baby by his side - with Grace being way too little to stroll along every event, Lewis would find himself scrolling through his camera roll until late at night, zooming in on every picture of her that you would send him. 

Analyzing every single new detail of his daughter, he would try to record each crevice of her skin in his mind, patiently waiting for the hours and days to pass by so he could hold her again, kiss her soft skin, feeling the light being reborn inside of him again as he would smell Grace’s baby scent. 

So, as his daughter got older, it would become a little more possible for her to be present at some more things with her daddy - finally, the moments that Lewis was waiting for, the ones he kept dreaming about so he could have his kid closer to him, were here. 

From taking her with him to small, quick meetings with his closest team, to leaving his work only to take his child to the park, or for some nice baked cookies from their favorite bakery - these are the moments he lives for.

This weekend, though, definitely feels different. This weekend is the most special weekend of the entire season for Lewis, and it might even be one of the most important races for him, just for a particular reason: it’s his daughter’s first Grand Prix.

Being invited to the birthday party for one of your dearest friend’s son - Kevin, the boy who was Grace’s very first friend, in Los Angeles, was already enough of an excuse for you to fly to America. And the thought of surprising your husband with yours and Grace’s presence at the Las Vegas GP, makes a smile appear on your features already. 

Lewis knows that his girls are going to be in LA for the party, but you told him all about how you needed to fly back home right after, due to some work responsibilities that are forcing you to be back in the office earlier than expected. 

You saw the way his face fell slightly at your words, understanding that you have your own routine and job as well - but he can’t deny that he wished you could be by his side a little longer, even if you and Grace just decided to stay at the hotel, watching the race on the television: at least, he knew that he would get to hug you close once he got back to his room, cuddling the loves of his life to sleep after work. 

Coming up with a plan, you talk to your toddler, who has the big responsibility of not breaking the surprise to her daddy - which you picture to be especially hard for her, since her dad is her most loyal confidant.

Somehow, the little girl manages not to reveal any part of your plan to Lewis, which makes him firmly believe that the two of you will be back home by sunday. 

In the middle of the chaos surrounding the paddock on race day, you tiptoe your way through the corridors that still feel peaceful, knowing that Lewis is in his final meeting of the afternoon. 

Greeting everyone that you pass by, your eyes never leave your daughter, noticing how the three-year-old girl acts like a real public relations agent - presenting herself to people who didn’t know her yet, telling everyone who her daddy is and letting the entire team know that she is about to surprise him.

- Mummy, are we still far from daddy? - Grace looks up at you, before her big brown eyes wander around the room. The garage is still calm, and your daughter focuses on her dad’s car, realizing that what she sees on television is actually real. 

Grabbing her hand, one of Mercedes’ assistants gestures for you to follow him, leading you to where your husband is. 

- Are you ready to surprise daddy? - you ask your kid, that mirrors the big smile on your face. Grace nods excitedly, the enthusiasm almost unable to fit inside her small figure.

With the assistant opening the door to the meeting room, you let go of your baby’s hand, smiling at the way she immediately runs inside, eager to hug her dad. 

- Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! - her voice echoes through the room, mixing with the laughs of everyone watching her. 

Lewis can’t even believe his ears when he starts hearing the sounds coming from the corridor, the little voice sounding familiar to him - let alone believing his own eyes as they land on his daughter, running to his arms.  

Picking her up, he immediately cradles her in his chest, taking a deep breath as his baby wraps her tiny arms around his neck, hugging him as close as she possibly can. 

Kissing her cheek multiple times, Lewis finally speaks up.

- What are you doing here, silly? Weren’t you supposed to be home? Hm? - his index finger boops the tip of the toddler’s nose, making her hide her face on the crook of his neck.  - Surprise! - it’s all she says, still clinging to his dad’s figure. 

The smile on Lewis’ face is unmatched - nothing, and really nothing, could make him feeling as happy as he feels now. His cheeks start hurting from smiling so wide, still finding it hard to believe that the light of his eyes is actually here, in Las Vegas, on race day. 

Peeking your head around the door, your eyes meet your husband’s, sending him a wink attached to a smile - that he makes sure to recollect, shaking his head in disbelief.

The meeting ends shortly after, but Grace makes sure to sit still on her dad’s lap, her head leaning on his chest as Lewis’ fingers gently caress her scalp, entangling themselves in the toddler’s hair.

Picking his princess up, they finally leave the room, meeting you in the corridor - where you were still patiently waiting. Lewis wraps his free arm around your waist as soon as your frames meet, capturing your lips in a heartfelt kiss. 

- I thought you had urgent work back home? - he hums between pecks, a smirk playing on his face as Grace is still studying the new environment around her. - I wanted to surprise you! I know how badly you want us to attend a race before the end of the season. - you explain, a cute pout playing on your lips playfully, leading to your husband hugging you even closer, his forehead glued to yours as he smiles widely. 

Lewis makes sure to take the mini-version of him everywhere, proudly showing off his daughter to everyone in the room, teaching her every thing about his job, sitting little Grace in his car - while you make sure to take loads of pictures of this moment, that will definitely be engraved in your husband’s mind forever. 

Your daughter is having the time of her life, loving all the attention she’s getting from every single person on the team, laughing and smiling widely at every picture, touching every detail of her daddy’s car, feeling like she is the one driving it like she sees him doing on television.

Being a spectator of such a special moment for Lewis and Grace fills your heart with love and pride, the warmth spreading all over your chest as you feel a set of butterflies flying through you. You just wish that your little girl can enjoy this moment as much as possible.

The way her chocolate eyes shine let you know that she is, indeed, mesmerized by her surroundings. Her belly laughs keep filling the room, her curious gaze taking mental notes of every new thing she is learning today. 

Grace grows specifically more quiet when you and her reach Lewis’ driver room. Watching her daddy getting ready to race, to get into action, makes her curious brain to try and delve into each small detail of what he is doing. Her small fingers trace the colors on Lewis’ helmet, asking him why he chose purple and yellow - stating that pink would look great on him. 

When it’s finally time for Lewis to get inside his car, he makes sure to take a second to reach for his girls. Hugging both of you tight, you share the traditional ���good luck’ kiss that has been his lucky charm for years, now. But when Grace leaned her head on his chest, her arms hugging him so close while she whispered ‘good luck, daddy’, it definitely gave Lewis a different boost to face the race. 

And it looks like all the stars aligned for this night - the car is cooperating, Lewis is feeling motivated and inspired, working his magic through the track, giving a hell of a show for everyone who wants to see. 

Grace is looking very attentively at the screen in front of her, the noise cancelling headphones making her look even smaller than she already is. Whenever she sees you, or everyone around her cheering, the little girl cheers as well, making sure to clap and scream ‘DADDY!!’ as loud as she can, thinking that Lewis can hear her from the garage. 

And it’s like he can. In his chest, Lewis feels his heart pumping faster than usual, like Grace’s first attendance to a race is making him feel capable of doing the impossible, ready to drive around the entire globe right now. Lap after lap, overtake after overtake, he is being driven by a different passion tonight, one that lives outside of his body, who’s smile keeps growing every time she hears the crowd chanting the name ‘Hamilton’ - that’s him. That’s her daddy, her hero. The best of all time.

Few words can describe the feeling of watching your husband back on the podium, securing the silver place after going through some tough weeks. But no words can describe the feeling boiling inside of you when you analyze the happiness in human shape that your daughter has become into. 

- Daddy gets a prize!! Daddy is the best! Daddy! Daddy! - the little girl can’t stop chanting, proudly letting everyone know that she is a Hamilton herself - as if no one knew about it already.

Once Lewis hops out of the car, he immediately rushes to find his little lucky charm, holding the smiley girl in his arms as he tries to regain his breath. 

-I’m so proud of you, daddy! You’re the best! - you and Lewis both smile at your daughter’s words, making it impossible for everyone around you not to let out a ‘awww’ at her adorableness.  - You are, baby? Daddy only did this good because of you, you know? You’re my lucky charm. - Lewis sincerely says, holding his hand up for the girl to high-five him, making her feel part of the team.  -I am? - her big eyes lock with her daddy’s, who nods at her question. - Then we need to come to every race, mummy! - Grace states, stealing laughs around her form.

Standing on the podium, Lewis receives his prize, feeling proud of his performance, but his eyes can only search for his reason to smile tonight in the middle of the crowd. Whenever you are around, Lewis immediately feels magnetized to his family, wanting to be as close as possible to you two, to celebrate with you, to enjoy this moment with the most important people of his life. 

Grace is back in Lewis’ arms when he is freed from the champagne celebrations, and when he is called to attend the post-race interviews, the toddler refuses to let go of her father.

- Gracie, come to mummy. Daddy needs to do work things! - you try to reason with the three-year-old, who just keeps fussing and gripping Lewis’ t-shirt with all her strength.

Kissing her temple, Lewis tries to calm down his child.

- Do you want to go with daddy? - the girl nods shyly, her insides bubbling with the idea of accompanying her dad on his work duties.

The journalists beam at the sight of Lewis carrying his daughter while he is interviewed. The photographers make sure to capture every little detail of their connection - how Lewis’ strong arms hold his baby like it’s nothing, how she feels so safe to explore the world around her while her dad is protecting her. The girl’s little shirt with a ‘44’ on the back delights everyone who gets to see the details of her outfit. ‘Daddy’ is written on top of his number, with a bunch of small details related to Lewis and his career - an absolutely personalized merch piece for his baby girl. 

It doesn’t surprise Lewis when Grace steals all the attention, the journalists forgetting about the questions they wanted to ask the driver and focusing only on the little girl.

Grace is a very stimulated kid for her age. You keep encouraging her intellectual side, while reading her stories, helping her come up with scenarios for her own toys and storylines, taking time to build puzzles, write rhymes and do counting games with her. 

On the other hand, Lewis makes sure that his kid doesn’t know the words ‘I can’t’. He is teaching his daughter how to swim, helping her riding a bike already, spending as much time doing outdoor activities as possible, so she can learn how to move her body, how to overcome herself and the limits that will live in her head through her entire life - teaching her some of these values from an early age.

So, the little girl’s bubbly personality comes out when she realizes that everyone wants to talk to her. The reporters say hi to her, not expecting her to be so outspoken.

- Hi! - she waves her little hand. - I’m Grace! Grace Hamilton - she points to her daddy, as if she is trying to say ‘I’m Hamilton like my dad’. 

People ask her if she is happy, if she is enjoying her time. The little girl nods frantically, feeling electric, even if it’s so late in the night already - sleep has been long forgotten by her body by now. She doesn’t want to sleep, in fact, she doesn’t want to lose a thing of what’s happening around her. 

- You think your dad is the best, Grace? - the girl replies with a huge ‘YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!’, making Lewis giggle loud at her antics, knowing, for sure, that she got that attitude from him. 

He is proud to show her off, to let the entire world know that the adorable, kind, smart, funny kid at the paddock is his daughter - the one that steals smiles from everyone who gets to see her. 

- What do you want to say to dad, now? - a journalist asks the toddler, and Lewis could never be ready for his baby’s answer.

Looking straight into her daddy’s eyes, Grace pauses for a moment, seeing how her dad raises an eyebrow - waiting for her words.

- Daddy, I want a sister - the girl blurts out, fidgeting with her fingers as she looks at his reaction.

Lewis almost chokes on his own spit, eyes widening at the request coming from the toddler, definitely not expecting it. Everyone laughs, making Lewis’ face burst into a smile, giggling at his kid. He knows that Grace is an extroverted and funny child, but he wasn’t ready to hear her dropping this bomb at this moment. 

- Where did that come from, girlie? - he nudges her tiny form gently, making the girl smile while keeping her serious tone.  - I want you and mummy to have another baby. I want someone to share my life with - Grace melts everyone’s hearts, earning a nod and a forehead kiss from her protector.  - Lewis, is this a request that you and your wife will be complying to? - another journalist asks with a smile. 

The man laughs, holding his daughter closer as she lays on her father’s chest, now. 

- It might be, let’s see what the future holds. - the man replies warmly, walking out to his driver’s room, where you were waiting, and watching the interview.

Your hands try to cool down the redness in your cheeks as Lewis walks inside with a sleepy Grace in his arms - her body seems to have lied, her energy peak is definitely over by now, after all of today’s events.

You and Lewis just share a compromised smile, while you reach to kiss her head full of curls. 

- Mummy, do you know what I told daddy? - the girl mumbles, sleep definitely taking over her now.  - I did, baby. But now it’s time for us to go to sleep, yeah? - your soft voice replies, holding Grace in your arms now as Lewis gets ready to leave the paddock, taking you two back to his hotel room.  - Are you giving me a sister, mummy? Or a brother? - the toddler fights herself to keep her eyes open, waiting for a reply. - Mummy and daddy are going to think about it, okay? - you try to soothe her, lulling your baby to sleep in your arms as your reply seems to be enough for her. 

Your daughter is fast asleep on your chest by the time you reach the hotel, lying her down on the bed as you and Lewis take a deep breath in unisson. The day was way too eventful for all of you, your bodies craving to be glued to the mattress, to finally get some rest. 

Lewis reaches for your silhouette, his hands landing on your hips as he pulls you closer to him while you try to put on your pajamas. Kissing your shoulder, you give in to his touch, melting a bit as you lay your head on his chest as well - your and Grace’s favorite place. 

- She will never give us peace - your husband giggles quietly, kissing the top of your head as both of you admire the tiny frame of your divinest creation, peacefully sleeping in between the pillows.   - Yeah - you slowly confess. - And now she wants a baby to play with her.

Lewis’ hand reaches for your cheek, cupping your features as you look up at him. 

- How do you feel about that, love? - he questions, the gentle tone of his voice calming down your heartbeat. 

It’s your body, and Lewis would never want to pressure you into anything, but the truth is that, since Grace was born, you never really spoke about having more babies. Both of you know that you want more kids, it’s an established fact. You two wanted to focus on her while she was growing up, so you never talked about the ‘right time’ to have another baby.

- We can definitely think about it - you smile at him, seeing how his eyes start shining brighter at your words. - Really? - he whispers, trying to confirm what you are trying to tell him. - Yes, baby - nodding your head with all certainty in your body, you pull him in for a much needed kiss. - We did great with Grace. She’s already three, so we can definitely start thinking about having another little one, no? 

And you didn’t even have to ask. Lewis smiles in between kisses, feeling his heart flutter at the thought of your family growing up. 

- I never thought we would reach this stage, my love. Look how far we’ve come: from two silly lovers, to a married couple, with an amazing daughter and the will to make our family grow even more - there’s a noticeable emotion in his words, in his face. He can play it off and say it’s just because he is exhausted from the race, but it’s not. It’s because he is genuinely proud of the two of you as a couple, as parents, as a family. And there’s nothing he wants more than to have more mini-versions of the both of you running around the house. - Deep down, I think I always knew. I didn’t marry you just because I love you, Lew. I married you because I knew you would be the best dad for our kids, and you keep proving me right every single day, ever since the first second that you found out I was pregnant with Grace - your nose rubs against his gently, your lips whispering as they touch his own, in an intimate connection. 

The view of his enamoured smile is enough to make your legs feel weak - out of love, joy, pride. 

- That’s just because you are the best mum I could have ever asked for to raise my kids with. And I can’t wait to have more babies with you, my love. - the man sincerely admits, kissing you passionately in the dim light of the moon that gently lights up the room. 

And when you finally crawl on the bed, sleeping with Grace cuddled in between your bodies like she loves so much, everything feels right - like there’s not a single piece misplaced, letting you know that the right time is now, to aim for a even brighter future, with a bigger family, where love will always prevail above it all. 

[metranart]

Imagine Geto and Gojo like your glorified bullies. They have had their eyes on you ever since they saw you. No one actually believed them to be bullies, sure they are arrogant and a bit mean but still, they are the golden duo of the Campus, loved and adored by everyone… but secretly obsessed with you, so but SO obsessed that their innocent teasing, playful at most, in time became more physical….

"Eyes on me, pretty," Geto grunts and swears and sweats and CAN'T seem to look away when he guides you down and kiss the tip of his cock, your tongue licking the roundness of the head like a lollipop, all in hope that this one-night stand will manage to dissuade this devilish duo from continuing to harass you, make them have their fill and be done with you. 

Geto watches you closely, breaths coming out labored and heavy. Your pretty eyes finally locking with his lovesick stare, orbs full of a sick devotion he refuses to give to anyone else, only perhaps to Satoru, who right now can’t help but chuckle amused at the love-stricken look Geto has on his face, not realizing he has the same damn look right at that moment.

"Dammit! you’ll be my end, I just know it,” the raven-haired heaves way too reverently before he realizes how vulnerable you are making him look and immediately, tries to keep face in front of a giggling Satoru. “Told ya, this little cunt can easily take us both.” 

Geto's hand comes to rest on your hair a little meaner, pushing you down and making you choke on his fat cock, but—… allowing you to control the speed with which you suck him off. Dammit! he just can’t control that soft spot he has for you.

Gojo snickers and rolls his eyes, shaking his head lightly at the devastating effect your mere existence has in his bestie… and in him, if he’s being honest. 

"Don't hog her, Suguru-"  

You blearily stare back into Satoru Gojo’s pouting grimace and he looks more frustrated than amused this time, you could laugh at how pathetic he looks if your mouth wasn't being used to make his best friend cum. Your drooling lips dragging over Suguru's throbbing cock, you can only try to follow his thrusting hips in order to protect the fragile, frayed strands of your sanity.

“You said you w-wanted….” Suguru has to concentrate to form logical sentences, “her s-sweet pussy first-…” he chokes a little when the tip touches the back of your throat but recovers the best he can, “then have-have her sweet p-pussy first, dumbass.”

You just ignore their little quarrel, just nibbling the sides of Geto's cock before he´s making you go down on him with a little more force, taking him whole in one go. Gojo lets his growing twinge of jealousy guide his next actions and with a mischievous grin, varnishes his lips in saliva, making sure are nice and slick to lick a fat and wet trip on your quivering slit.

You yelp at the unexpectedness and Geto shushes you, a benevolent expression on his face. 

"Just concentrate on sucking my cock," he hums and noticing your struggle, adds, "breath through your nose, pretty, nice and easy... just listen to my voice, sweetness." 

Eventually you do as he says, taking more of Geto in your mouth. "That's right, that's a good girl.” The raven-haired praises unable to hide anymore how much he wants you for himself. How much he wants to devote his life to you… and maybe, Satoru as well. If you can handle both, he'll take it... if you only want him, he'll take it faster.

Gojo's pathetic shriek tells Geto that he manages to slip in your tightness and your bouncing hips on his cock make him moan, appreciatively. 

Gojo's powerful hips colliding with your bruised ass cheeks without an inch of restraint is making sucking Geto off, sloppier and dirtier, and somehow, making him love it even more. Making him more verbal and prompter to show his more vulnerable side.

You knew that from the two, Geto was the machiavellian mind behind every act of bullying against you, but right now… this man, this weak mass of hormones, broken groans and trembling thighs under your hands were also showing a disarmingly sweet and unexpected, side of him. Something intimate and utterly private.

"Am I being too rough? Are you comfortable?" His rambling started all of the sudden and kept coming… "You want it deeper, should Gojo speed up or slow down..." "You're so beautiful. Ask us for ANYTHING, we'll put Tokyo at your feet... be our princess." "Shit! If you keep sounding so incredibly adorable, I'm going to cum... I don't want to cum yet-" "No, don't stop, let me hear you... I was just thinking out loud, I love the way our name sounds in your voice. Oh baby! You're going to be my downfall, please... be my downfall!

“OUR downfall!” 

Gojo corrects and the two men lock eyes. His cock stills inside you and your body tenses. There’s a heavy silence before Geto nods in agreement, the easygoing grin back on his lips. 

"Sorry. It slipped out. Our girl," he shifts his dark gaze to your reddened face and his eyes soften again. "You knew we bullied you because we like you, don’cha? I know you knew it-” 

You didn’t. You actually don't want to believe that to be the reason, that reason gives you more chills than the fact that they only saw you as a passing victim. This new information makes you make him cum faster, it slips down your chin and neck at how heavy it is, and you hear him chuckle breathlessly, as one of his hands pet your head, way too gently. 

"Y-You just wanted to keep us on the edge of our seats, y-you wanted to torture us, I just know it, kitten... well, you did well... we're crazy-crazy about you.”

You freeze, don’t knowing how to react, so you don’t… and they notice.

Soon Gojo finishes too, and a loop begins, one after another after another… like trying to brand you from the inside out, they need to seize their chance. Satoru’s strong but gentle fingers keep you effectively anchored to his groin, as he only hums appreciatively in response to your adorable, pathetic moans as both keep feeding those glorious pieces of meat to your conquered holes. 

“You, letting me rut into your softness and enduring our frenzy with such grace has undoubtedly been the best thing of my damn year, pretty." Satoru finally confesses, leaving his tough guy facade aside. Both their masks are off for good now.

Suguru Geto chuckles at his confession, you make them so desperate, so desperate to hear something more than moans mumbled brokenly from your lips, they want to hear you say that you accept all their proposals and future plans, that you are their girlfriend, their future wife, the future mother of their child… he wants to hear that you are HIS… Theirs, he means, theirs. 

But you don’t and that irks and burns deeper than expected and makes them have to go back to their nasty and reprovable behavior. Unfortunately for you, they just run out of patience.

“Y’know,” Suguru starts conversationally, disturbingly stretched grin and unfaltering obsidian gaze betraying his previous gentle approach and innocently whispered proclamations of love. “I REALLY like this pussy… I think we’ll keep it.”

You hear Satoru laugh, and for the first time, you can glimpse your mistake. This wasn’t a night one stand, their greed for you is bottomless, your foolish attempt to tame them, failed and now they look greedier than EVER.

➡️ 👀 Sneak Peek Artwork HERE

🔞➡️ FULL NSFW ART of this drabble HERE

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone Part 2

Hi everybody! I'm back with the next part of my Yoga Steve Steddie AU. I've decided to call it Stretch Zone as a bit of a teacher joke 😅

Still not sure where this is going or if it will go further, but I will be officially starting a tag list after this installment so if you want to be added let me know if the comments or tags.

Part 1

------

Despite his best efforts, Robin does not come with him next week to Chrissy’s yoga class. He tried to tell her, many times, that Chrissy was totally into her but she was impervious to his completely air-tight proof.

“She asked if I was your boyfriend and totally lit up when I said I wasn’t. She totally wants to get with you, Robbie”

“First of all, gross. Second of all, that is not proof of anything.”

So he came alone this week. Mostly, it’s the same thing as the first class but instead of introductions, they just get right into the exercises. Chrissy is a good teacher. Kind, patient, and always giving alternative ways to do the poses for people who want more or less difficulty. Of all the girls Robin has liked, she’s definitely Steve’s favorite and he’s determined to play wingman.

Chrissy always leaves enough time after class for everyone to mill around and clear up their stuff, which leaves Steve plenty of time to meddle.

“Hey Chrissy!” he calls out, jogging a little to reach her before any of the vultures do. Chrissy is a cute girl and he thinks more than one of the guys here are more interested in her than mindfulness. Probably some of the girls, too. “I wanted to thank you for the links you sent me. This mat is much better than the one they loaned me at the desk.” He says a little louder than is probably necessary, but he wants the vultures to hear and think that he’s already got an in with the pretty blond.

“Oh, no problem Steve, I was happy to help,” she says. She really is tiny, he finds himself thinking. Steve himself isn’t the tallest guy around but she has to tilt her head all the way up to look him in the eye. She’s going to look so cute next to Robin, speaking of which. “I didn’t see Robin this week. Was she not able to make it?” Steve once again curses Robin’s stubborn streak. Chrissy was very clearly hoping to see the other girl today.

“Nah, she decided it wasn’t for her. I don’t know if you saw, but she’s kind of clumsy,” Steve admits. “She told me to say hi though. She’s always talking about how great your ideas are for your writing class. I think she said something about peer editing? I don’t know,” he says with faux nonchalance. Robin most certainly did not ask him to pass on a hello and she would be mortified to know that the previously anonymous peer edits she submitted for Chrissy’s last paper are not so anonymous anymore. Steve would feel bad, Robin was definitely effusive with her praise, but if he’s right about this whole situation then Robin will thank him later.

“Oh! Robin was my editor last week? I didn’t know that! That review was so thoughtful and kind I was wondering who it was. I’ll have to thank her in class tomorrow,” she says with a bright, excited smile.

Robin is going to owe him big time.

Mission accomplished, Steve becomes aware that he’s taken up a good chunk of Chrissy’s time and there is a small pod of people awkwardly loitering around, probably waiting to ask questions that are actually yoga-related. One guy in particular is boring holes into Steve’s head like it’s his damn job, which is…well, it’s a little uncomfortable but Steve can appreciate he’s being kind of annoying taking up all the instructor's attention.

He says his goodbyes to Chrissy and turns to leave, catching that guy’s eyes again and sending him a little wave and sheepish smile. He might as well try and be friendly; they’re going to be in this class together for the next two months, after all. To Steve’s mild relief, it seems to snap the guy out of his single-minded glaring. He watches as the guy blinks hard and turns a charming shade of pink, clearly embarrassed to be acknowledged, and give a little wave back.

The guy is kind of cute, in a wet cat kind of way. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a shirt for some band Steve doesn’t recognize with the sleeves cut off and despite the fact that he’s got long, curly hair he clearly didn’t bring any kind of hair tie because the whole thing has become one tangled, sweaty mess. He’s not the kind of guy Steve would expect to be taking yoga classes, but he supposes anyone can get into this kind of stuff.

With one last look at the strange man, Steve continues toward the door, mind once again turned toward making sure Robin is prepared to talk to Chrissy on Monday.

—---

Eddie can not believe this is his life.

Of all the things he thought he would do one day - write an award-winning song, buy his uncle Wayne a better trailer in a better town, find a man to take his virginity - yoga was never on the list.

Eddie Munson is not, and has never been, the kind of guy to do exercise that didn’t involve running away from jocks and preps he’d annoyed to the point of violence. In fact, he’s been adamant that he would only ever do recreational exercise of the non-sexual variety when the sun fell out of the sky and Andy Johnson from high school professed his undying love to him.

Neither thing has happened as of yet but unfortunately, his best friend is the surprisingly cunning Chrissy Cunningham, who is determined to make Eddie into a healthier person. Chrissy, a bonafide jock but also the kindest person on planet Earth, has tried every trick in the book to get her best friend to commit to a better lifestyle, but Eddie has always been stubborn to a fault. Even he can admit that his dedication to cigarettes, microwave meals, and general sloth is not the best way to ensure he lives a long, healthy life, but old habits die hard and he’s still too young to be thinking about his inevitable death. 

No amount of pleading, cajoling, or petty theft from his apartment has gotten Eddie to commit to anything for more than a week, but Chrissy isn’t his best friend for nothing. She knows him better than anyone and that means she knows that Eddie is proud to a fault and when presented with a challenge he can’t - won’t - turn it down. She traps him into a bet he can’t win and in all her cruelty, she demands that he sign up for her three-month yoga course at the rec.

Three months.

Eddie won’t make it.

Eddie definitely won’t make it if the absolute snack of a man diagonal from him doesn’t start wearing something other than the tightest pair of yoga pants known to man. Seriously, Eddie thought this would be bad enough when all he had to worry about was his stiff joints and complete lack of lung capacity and then this man had the gal to walk in and set up not 10 feet away.

From the front, it had been bad enough. Droopy puppy eyes, sweet moles, a strong nose, and a fit body. And, well, Eddie is not a creep. He isn’t. But there is also an adonis of a man standing right in front of him wearing yoga pants and it’s kind of hard not to look at what's right in front of him. Much to his dismay, or relief he can’t tell, the adonis seems to know what he’s doing and has worn the correct undergarments to keep everything from flopping around.

And then he turned around and…

Dear god.

Those pants can not be fucking legal.

Eddie spent the entire class trying not to stare like the creep he swears he isn’t and failing. His only saving grace is that he doesn’t fall on his face, but it’s a near thing, especially when Chrissy guides them into these weird lunges that make the back of Eddie’s thighs burn and the man of his dream’s ass look completely biteable. He swears Chrissy is torturing him on purpose. She’s probably trying to get him back for being such a brat about taking care of himself.

When the class finally lets out 45 agonizing minutes after it started, Eddie feels like a wrung dish towel. He’s sweaty and gross and he’s going to be aching in places he didn’t even know existed until next week when he has to do it all again. Seriously, fuck bets.

When he finally summons the will to sit up, he is once again treated to the sight of the most fabulous ass this side of the Mississippi. The equally gorgeous man attached to it is chatting to Chrissy, something about yoga mats that Eddie doesn’t care to understand and general pleasantries that he tunes out until his brain hooks on something interesting.

Robin.

As in Robin Buckley the girl from Chrissy’s writing class that his best friend has been crushing hard on for weeks.

Very interesting indeed.

But he can think about that later. At the moment, he is more concerned with getting off the floor and shuffling a little closer to the front of the room for a better look at his future husband’s face. There’s something pleasant about the shape of his mouth, a thought Eddie has never had about a person before but is nonetheless true. There’s a curve to his smile that is present even as he speaks. Eddie kind of wants to kiss his teeth. He’s so caught up seeing if he can count all the moles on the man’s neck that he doesn’t notice him turn toward Eddie until he’s wiggling his fingers in a little wave.

Eddie is suddenly reminded that staring at another man’s moles in the middle of a yoga studio is not socially acceptable behavior, and this man definitely saw him doing just that. He can feel all the blood in his body rush to his face in record time. This is definitely the most embarrassing moment of his adult life. 

Helpless to do anything else lest he look like even more of a freak, he gives a little wave back, feeling supremely stupid as he does. The guy gives him one last look before walking out the door.

As soon as he’s gone Eddie collapses back onto his abandoned mat and covers his eyes with his hands, too mortified to face the world. He doesn’t care if there are still other people lingering around talking to Chrissy and cleaning up their mats, he kicks his feet into the air and groans loud and long. Let Chrissy deal with the weird looks for him, this is her fault anyway.

A couple minutes later the room dims even more as Chrissy looms over him. He refuses to take his hands away from his face, not wanting to deal with her no doubt smug face.

“See something you liked?” She asked, unperturbed by Eddie’s childish behavior.

Eyes still closed, he says, “You’re going to hell. This is best friend abuse.”

Chrissy just laughs.

-------

Little reminder that I am doing a little fanfiction giveaway to celebrate 500 followers. If you want to enter, go to this post for the details!

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Tag List Added

@aroseandherthorns @child-of-cuthulu @lumoschildextra @warlordess

[marvelobsessed134]

Life imitates art

A/n: whewww this is one of my favorite things I ever written

Pairings: Beefy!Art Professor!Natasha x Fem!Student!Reader

Warnings: age gap (not specified), Nat has a dick, smut, blowjob, degradation, painting a nude person, reader being that nude person, pervy Nat (?), student/teacher dynamics

Okay so you’ve been failing your art class in college. But it’s really not your fault you’ve just been so caught up with your other classes that you’ve been slacking off.

And of course your professor noticed. Natasha knew she had to talk to you after class because you were one of her top students and now you’ve fallen off the deep end.

So after the lecture and after everyone leaves, leaving their canvases up to dry, the redhead calls you to stay after class.

You walked towards her desk with a nervous feeling in your stomach. You know you’re gonna get some kind of lecture of your own.

“Yes Professor Romanoff?” You asked in a sweet tone hoping you won’t be getting into any trouble with her. Not that she’s a mean professor per se but when a student fails she makes them do an extra project to get their grades up. It’s almost like she loves to torture people!

“Miss Y/n you’ve been failing very miserably in my class. Any particular reason why?” She asked.

You gulped, “Well…you see professor I’ve just been so caught up in my other classes that I’ve kind of been slacking on this one but-“

“So is my class not important to you?”

“No! It’s very important to me I love art and I love painting but I have these two big tests coming up so I haven’t had the time to finish my projects and you know I don’t do half assed work when it comes to my art.”

The redhead smiled a little bit at that, “Yes, which I do admire and appreciate but I’d like you to put more effort into my class.”

You looked down at your feet shamefully, “Yes Professor Romanoff.” You sounded like a scolded child.

“Well,” she stood up and walked over to her empty easel and put a large blank canvas on it. She also put a chair right behind it.

Then she walked back over to you. “You know how to get your grade up in my class. But instead of you painting I want you to be my model. Can you do that?”

The thought of you being her model made your flush, “I guess.”

“Great. Now strip off your clothes.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. I’ve personally always wanted to have a live nude model in my presence to paint so nows my chance.”

“Professor Romanoff…this is highly inappropriate im your student plus you’re like a decade older than-“

“Do you want those grades or not detka?” The nickname gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Yes I do but-“

“Then do as I say and take your clothes off.” You quickly complied, shakily pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. Your shoes, socks, jeans, and panties came off next.

“Go sit on that chair over there.” She pointed to the chair that sat in front of the easel. You took a deep breath and walked over to sit down. Your arms resting on the armrests and your legs clenched together.

As Natasha got set up behind the easel she said, “Don’t hide your pretty pussy from me baby.” Your eyes widened at her words but you complied. Desperate for the grades, you slowly spread your legs. Unfortunately you were embarrassingly wet.

It’s no surprise you have a crush on your professor. She’s beefy with a pretty face and exudes dominance. Her shirt sleeves are always rolled up to her elbows and her slacks fit her perfectly. Along with the occasional blazer she wears.

Unbeknownst to you she noticed how wet your little cunt was and smirked.

She began to paint you, taking in every breathtaking detail of you.

You felt so vulnerable in this position. Sitting naked in front of your fully clothed professor as she painted your naked form.

She didn’t even bother to try to hide the erection in her pants, because she knew you felt the same way about her. It was only a matter of time before she could finally taste you and have her way with you.

Once she had gotten most of the painting down-she can finish it later she will remember every inch of your body-she walked over to you.

You sat up straighter, not daring to close your legs. Natasha towered over you and looked down at your pretty perky nipples and your wet pussy.

“I think my model needs a reward for being such a good girl don’t you think?” She asked and you sucked in a breath.

She tilted your chin up with her index finger, “Yes or no babygirl.”

Oh you knew it was wrong so, so wrong. But you found yourself saying, “Yes.” It came out as a whisper you were surprised she even heard it.

The redhead smirked, “That’s what I thought.” She got down on her knees, her hands sliding up your bare legs before she licked a bold strip against your pussy. You moaned, throwing your head back at the little piece of friction you just got.

“If my student didn’t want to get naked for me then…why is she so soaking wet?” As she said this she ran her finger up your folds. You hissed in response.

“I know you’ve wanted me since the first day of class. Don’t worry, I want you too.” She kissed the inside of your thigh before licking your folds again, eating you out with such passion that you forgot where you were.

Her mouth attached itself to your clit and you gripped her hair tightly as she sent you closer and closer to the edge before you drenched her face with your release.

“Oh god!” You moaned breathlessly.

“You taste so good detka. Care to return the favor?” She asked with a cocky smile. You immediately got on your knees in front of her and unbuckled her pants, pulling them and her boxers down to free her large cock.

Your eyes widened at the size and you wrapped your hand around her shaft and began to jerk her off.

“I wanna see those pretty lips around my cock baby.” She commanded dryly.

You gulped before wrapping your lips around the tip and sinking down onto it, bobbing your head up and down and jerking off whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Natasha gripped your hair as you sucked her off. “Such a slut for me huh. Who knew you’d be so eager to taste my dick.” Your pussy was dripping onto the floor both from your previous orgasm and your arousal at the mere action of sucking her cock.

“Shit baby I’m gonna cum.” Your professor moaned before shooting her load down your throat. “Ah fuck that’s it swallow it.”

You swallowed it all and pulled of her cock, opening your mouth to show her you did in fact take it.

She caressed your chin, “Such a good girl. Come over here.” She made her way to the chair you were once sitting on and sat down. Her cock still sticking up in the air. She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off revealing her abs. Your mouth watered at the sight and you quickly made your way over to her.

The older woman smirked, “Ride my cock baby.” It was a simple command that you were more than happy to obey.

You straddled her waist and sunk down on her thick cock, moaning at the stretch.

“God you’re so tight.” She hissed as she gripped your hips and started moving you up and down her length, treating you like her own personal toy.

You were a moaning mess, rolling your eyes at the back of your head as she continuously hit your g spot. “Oh fuck professor! Feels so good!”

“Yeah? Oh god who knew my student wanted to be slutted out so bad.” She also thrusted her hips up as she moved you. Your hands gripped her muscular shoulders.

The only sounds that could be heard in the room were the sounds of skin slapping, moans, and grunts.

“I’m gonna cum again fuuuuck.” You cried.

“Cum again for me sweetie.” You reached down to rub your clit as you were sent to a land of ecstasy.

You clenched around her cock and your vision went white for a second. You absolutely drenched her cock.

“Oh yeah drench my fucking cock. I’m gonna cum again.” She quickly pulled out of you and forced you on your knees. You watched as she jerked herself off till she came on your tits.

“Holy fuck. You’re unbelievable.” Natasha breathed and you giggled.

“Did I get the grade?”

“Oh yeah you got the grade. And if you keep this up then you’ll be passing every exam too.”