#So it's all just bouncing around in my head

[madamechrissy]

Fratboy! Sukuna

Pairings - Fratboy! Sukuna x Nerdy Brat! reader (my pairings are so extra LMAO)

Warnings - college AU, public play, fingering, oral ( f and m recieving) cum swallowing, rough sex, size kink, ass smacking, hair pulling, teasing, drinking, weed smoking, reader AND Kuna talking shit, Kuna whimpering, overall silly ass hcs with smut (this was a request for Kuna from Took you Like a Shot)

I should be working on my wips but instead have over 3k words of Sukuna smut <3 Now back to those lol!!

Fratboy! Sukuna was the king of this damn college, everyone knew him, whether it was as a friend, a hook up, crush or a rival. Running the frat with Suguru and Satoru, the three of them constantly had parties, and Sukuna was the best out of the three at beer pong by far. He's never lost a match in the three years of college, not once. So when he sees a nerdy little thing challenge him - a girl he's only seen with her head in a book passing by and maybe thought how pretty she was but - he scoffs, looking down at her. At you.

Fratboy! Sukuna has his crowd around him, so many girls fawn over him, one has his beer in her hand and gives him sip, one has his blunt lit, giving him hits. Another is holding his water bottle, all while he's in a ridiculous toga, that shows far too much of his toned, tatted physique. You try to ignore it as you adjust your own outfit, feeling ridiculous in it, but Sukuna couldn't stop thinking of how good that white dress looked on your skin, glinting under the lights. Dumb shit he shouldn't be thinking while high off his ass and lit, but it's there. 'What ya waiting for, brat, hmm? Scared I'll win?' He asks then across the table, with a big grin, and you glare up at him. 'No way, you'll see, it's all about math'

Fratboy! Sukuna bursts into laughter, and you itch to smack his arguably far too handsome face, while his girls all giggle around him. But Satoru comes over, murmuring in your ear then - 'he thinks you're hot, use it to your advantage' you gasp, looking at the white haired leader of the frat then. 'No way!?' He just smirks, and Sukuna scowls at you across the long beer pong table now. You sigh, there is so much Axe body spray and love spell, cigarette smoke and stale beer in the air, it's nice to inhale whatever fancy cologne Satoru wears for a moment. 'Distract him, pookie' you laugh softly, unbelieving when he runs back over to Sukuna, who bounces a ball right in your first cup.

Fratboy! Sukuna has said you're pretty many times but he didn't need Satoru to rat him out, he doesn't want to admit that he's shy around you. He's not shy around anyone, you're just an outlier, an annoyance really, leaning forward now and showing far too much of your pretty breasts in that dress, sinking a ball right into his cup then. Sukuna's cock starts throbbing from the look in your pretty eyes behind those glasses. 'Beginners luck, tch' he grumbles, you giggle a bit, sipping on your drink. 'Oh yeah? We'll see huh?' and you proceed to annihilate his ass at at, a girl taking down the 'big, bad Sukuna' like it's fucking nothing, making him angrier with every bounce.

Fratboy! Sukuna glares daggers at you across the crowded party, which many have gathered to watch the downfall of him, you have two of his cups left and he's only gotten one of yours, torn between wanting to fuck you right on this table and wanting to show you up for your little attitude. His red eyes glint then, he's so focused on how you look he's fucking up every throw, and now his friends are all making fun of him while you have the audacity to giggle. When you sink the last ball in, two boys from the frat lift you up on their shoulders, and you giggle, arms up in the air while he pouts, crossing his arms and looking away. 'She beat your ass bro-' Sukuna shoots a death glare at Suguru now, who's too high to care, laughing so hard he's almost snorting a long with Satoru. 'Oh fuck both of you. I'm just... off tonight or something'

Fratboy! Sukuna watches as you beat everyone at fucking beer pong, it's actually stupid how good you are. He ends up standing next to you, smoking on his blunt as he watches your technique, so close he can inhale whatever sweet scent you wear, filling his nostrils then and making his mouth itch to taste you. Do you taste as good as you smell? You look back then, lips parted as he's sniffing your neck without noticing what he's doing. 'Are you sniffing me, Sukuna?' he glares now, standing up and shaking his head. 'Tch, you wish, I just... y'know, I wanna make a bet with you' he can't admit that he absolutely was just sniffing you, no way. Your eyes light up the challenge. 'Oh, what bet?' you ask, tilting your head now, when he leans low, a hand brushing across your waist over thin cheap costume fabric, it's nothing to prevent his big hand from burning your skin.

Fratboy! Sukuna feels you trembling as he stands behind you now, his hard body against your back, and you try to focus, but he's fucking up your senses far more than any sips of beer you've had. 'I bet you can't stay quiet with my fingers in you. Ah, you nervous now, brat?' his whisper against your ear makes your cunt clench and throb with need, you look back at him with wide eyes, while he smirks at you, raising a thick brow, while his full lips are far too close. 'Oh yeah, what do I win if I can?' your ask shocks him, he assumed you'd be more... shy, but your challenge is all over your face, and you feel his hardness pressing against your back now, he wonders if you feel the precum leaking at the thought of touching you, pressing harder, your hands gripping the flimsy pong table. 'If you win, I'll drink that pussy up and have you cum all over my face,' you jerk when he touches you secretly, as if he's just hugging on you, but he's teasing your clit already, whispering - 'and if you win?'

Fratboy! Sukuna chuckles, pink locks falling just so over his arrogant brow, big ass grin with his straight white teeth glinting as he looks down at you. 'If I win, well...' he's whispering in your ear, making you tremble now, while you land another winning shot, and his typical girls look over jealously at the two of you, but he completely ignores them. 'You'll suck me till I cum, and you'll have to grind on my leg all fucking pathetic' you glare now at him, teeth clenching while he slips a finger under the slit of your gown, hidden firmly by your dress and the table. 'You're so arrogant, you wish I would. I'd make you whimper like a little bitch' Sukuna scowls deep now, at your fucking arrogance, but also... how dare you have done that to anyone but him!? The thought pisses him off irrationally. Makes him want to make sure your cunt remembers his shape and no one else's. 'Think you're so good at it, brat? Tch, we'll see.' You smile now, too pretty for him to focus, shaking your head. 'No, we'll see if you're any good at eating pussy'

Fratboy! Sukuna has clearly had you pegged all wrong, thinking you're some cute innocent thing when you have a mouth like that, wracking him with images of you on your knees, lips wrapped around his tip, when he finds you under your panties. He hardly holds back his moan, feeling your slick cunt pouring against his fingers. 'If you make noise, don't you lose?' you whisper, he smirks at you then, finding your clit and watching your eyes flutter shut, feeling her twitch under his fingertips. 'Focus on that game huh? before you lose' you clench your teeth again, hips shifting as wetness pours out, Sukuna casually sips his beer as if he's not rolling perfect patterns on your little twitchy clit, and you throw another ball as if you're not dying to grind against that hard cock pressing insistently.

Fratboy! Sukuna has met his match at beer pong, but he hears your soft whimper when he teases a kiss on your bare shoulder, running his fingers up and down your slit, and that sharp intake of breath as he feels your tight cunt gripping as he slides a thick digit in. 'You doin' okay, brat? so fuckin wet from some touches?' you glare again but it's interrupted by the squelching sound of your wetness in both of your ears and your gasp, which you bite back before shaking your head. 'I'm good' is all you manage, hearing his chuckle, when he inserts another finger, stretching you out. You thank God for loud ass music and laughter, or you swear your cunt was so loud people would hear. 'greedy cunt, she wants more, huh?' you say nothing, focusing on the cups, missing your ball then, frustrated and overheated, Sukuna watches the blush dance on your cheeks as his fingers curl up in your soppy little hole. 'Aw, poor baby is fucking up her shots'

Fratboy! Sukuna would love to lose to you, to bury his face in the soaking cunt drooling down his fingers, but part of him also wants to win because he always does, and fucking that bratty mouth just makes his cock twitch against his toga. He's lost in how tight you are, your little wiggles and gasps as he holds you against him, fingers hitting that spongy spot while he leans over, an arm braced on the table, the asshole actually holds conversations, grinning while you're about to cum. You try to hold back, cunt pulsing now, vision blurred by how good they feel, thighs trembling as slick pours down your inner thighs now, making it slippery and messy, gulping down a bottle of water and almost choking while he thumbs your clit at the same time, leaning close. 'How ya doing, beer pong champion?' his mocking tone should infuriate you, but all you wanna do is cum, and it's like he knows, but you swallow it down, smiling. 'I'm great!'

Fratboy! Sukuna god his jaw just drops when you win that tournament, not making barely a noise despite how wet you are, how jerky your hips are moving, you swallow that water and smile victoriously when he sighs, removing his fingers, leaving your cunt aching. 'Fuck, guess I might as well see what I'm in for' he murmurs, dejected at losing, he never loses, and he pulled out all the stops on that cunt. He takes his fingers then, sucking you off him casually, cheeks hollowing, making your tummy flip as he does, when his eyes flutter shut and he moans as he tastes you, it all feels too real then. All the shit talking didn't prepare you for how sexy he would look, what that action would do to your body and mind. His red eyes are so dilated they look fucking black when he grips your wrist now, leaning low - 'you won, brat, let's go, now'

Fratboy! Sukuna drags you behind him unceremoniously to his room then, and instead of kissing you or letting you touch him, he immediately locks the door, getting on his knees in front of you, a hot open mouthed kiss on your thigh as it trembles. 'Sukuna, just because you won doesn't mean you have to... I can- ah!' he's already eyeing your soaking wet cunt, so drenched your panties are sticking to you, the outline apparent, his breath on your inner thigh making matter worse. 'A bet is a bet, but I'd be eating you even if you won' he curses under his breath at the vulnerable statement, but you ease against his door then, relaxing, and brushing silky pink locks back. 'You would?' he just scoffs now, attitude back, glaring as he slips your panties off, you eye a collection of them then on his dresser and glare. 'You're not keeping them!' he chuckles now, nipping your inner thigh. 'will you just shut up and...' he laps at your cunt now, earning you banging your head against the door as you hiss, hips bucking. 'Can't even take one lick, huh?'

Fratboy! Sukuna talks a lot of shit to cover up the fact that you have the prettiest pussy he's seen, in fact he doesn't think anything will compare to it now, the taste sweet like your scent - no, sweeter - if he was a little bitch maybe he'd write some dumb poem about that flavor, but instead all you get is a husky - fuck - while he devours your soppy little cunt now, teasing and flicking your clit until he latches his mouth. 'mnh! oh my God, I... ngh!' you're reduced to nothing while he worships you on his knees, dressed like some goddess and he's sipping the finest nectar, red eyes darting up while you tug at his locks, hurting his scalp and making him harder while you do. 'Sukuna, m'close! fuck...' him edging you early didn't help matters, he just grins against you, wicked tongue flicking just so, teeth nipping your clit until you shatter for him, orgasm rocking your body until you can't see, gushing arousal down this man's face, and he drinks it all up too.

Fratboy! Sukuna almost cums licking you, finally pulling back and standing, hovering so tall over you, you almost fall so he wraps and arm around your waist. 'No talking shit, huh? where's all that attitude, brat?' you just yank him down by the golden leaf on his toga, whispering - 'shut up, Sukuna' and kiss him, tasting your arousal on his lips, before shoving him on his bed now, earning a shocked look on the huge man's face. Sukuna lifts and lifts heavy, and you're literally tiny and nothing in comparison - he plays football, he's an athlete, but he's weak kneed from you, helpless and irritated about it. You straddle him, your glasses fogging up from your kisses, and he grips your hips, hands shaking as he slips up your dress, and you reveal him, flushing. 'No boxers, you're so slutty, Sukuna' your words end him, he whimpers when you touch his tip with your finger, already leaking precum, you lap it off your thumb- and that's when he really knows he had you wrong. You're a little fucking freak, smiling down at him, cunt leaking down against his thick muscled thighs. 'You're yummy too - ah!'

Fratboy! Sukuna scowls at your audacity, lifting you up by your hips, as you view all of his huge, veiny cock, so big you know you can't take it, no guy is even close that you've been with, but you sure will fucking try. You figure he'll ease you on it, as he holds you up in the damn air and you flail, before he slides you all the way down his length in one stroke and you scream out. He groans as he feels it, smirking up at you under sooty pink lashes, watching your eyes roll back, your hips wiggle in his firm hold. 'Can't take it, brat?' he taunts, lifting and dragging you down that veiny length again, and you try to scowl back, but fail, moaning. 'I can, I can fuck give me a minute... monster cock what the f-fuck...' he's chuckling with delight, but you're clenching again, just making him moan himself, as he starts fucking up into your cunt, and it burns- the fucking stretch so intense you feel like he's splitting you in half, but you want it, fuck you want it - him slamming that cervix over and over.

Fratboy! Sukuna almost busts quick, stopping then, flipping you over until you're on your hands and knees, wrapping your hair around his first and sliding his cock back in, watching how small your cunt is compared to it. 'Making it disappear, such a good little slut for me, aren't you?' he's talking shit you'd never deal with but you like it from him, damn him. He's splitting you apart with every thrust, watching the creamy ring form at the base while both of your costumes barely hang on, he's scrunching it up your hips, smacking the fuck out of you as he pulls your hair so hard, and you just whine out - 'more, fuck, please more' and Sukuna gives it to you. He fucks you until you're drooling, heavy balls smacking that clit and making you cum, milking him already as your gummy walls grip and spasm, he smacks you again, watching his hand print form and groaning. 'you're so sweet like this, this what you wanted?'

Fratboy! Sukuna expects you to argue but you're too far gone, fucked from one orgasm into another, the smacks of skin loud in his room, while you grip his sheets and he presses your head down, fucking harder and harder, so hard you don't know if you can take it, you have to take off your glasses and shove them aside, burying your face against his bed. His cock fills you so good it's unbearable, all you can do is cry out into his bed while he's whispering utter filth - 'made f'me, isn't she?' you just nod weakly at it. 'Perfect cunt, aw you can't talk now, brat huh?' you just whine out, there was clearly a way to make you less competitive and that was getting railed in a frat house by Sukuna.

Fratboy! Sukuna barely pulls out in time, crying out and whining again as he cums, jerking his cock while you catch your breath, you struggle to get up, cunt fucking aching, turning to watch him. With his clean hand he hands you your glasses, as you slip them on and watch cum still oozing out of the hole of his reddened tip, so much cum. Your thighs quiver as you eye him now, as the two of you just sit there in the quiet for a moment, then you shock him, shoving him on his back again, breasts spilling and making him twitch with more need. 'Let me clean you up, Sukuna, it's the least I can do. Made you make all that noise, didn't I?' He glares at you, but once you're sucking all that cum off him with an expert tongue, and sliding him deep down your throat, until he's licked clean, he's gotta admit - you really were better at everything than him.

I love this man lol

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi! i adore your works very much <3 Is it possible if I request a dad Charles with his 2-3 year-old who suddenly says "I hate you" and ignores her favorite uncle Pierre. All because she heard her dad said "I hate you" to Pierre during their silly banters after race and thought that her dad seriously hated Pierre so she should hate her uncle too!

Hate is a bad word

The post-race buzz was still electric in the Ferrari hospitality unit, a light hum of conversation and laughter rolling through the paddock as the sun dipped low over the circuit. Charles was lounging on the couch, still in his red team polo, hair slightly damp from the shower, and a warm smile tugging at his lips. Perched happily in his lap, her soft curls pressed against his chest, was his daughter — the very center of his universe.

“Papa, I want juice,” Yn murmured sleepily, poking at his cheek with one tiny finger.

“You just had juice, ma chérie,” Charles said softly, brushing a curl behind her ear. “If I give you more now, you’ll be bouncing on the hotel bed until midnight.”

“I like bouncing,” she pouted.

“And Papa likes sleep,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But I’ll get you more soon, okay?”

Just then, the door swung open and in strutted Pierre — all swagger and charm, sunglasses perched on his head and a familiar mischievous grin dancing on his lips.

“Look who I found wandering around,” Pierre announced dramatically. “A little Ferrari princess, stealing all the attention.”

Yn’s eyes lit up for a moment — Pierre had always been her favorite uncle. He brought her silly hats, tickled her until she shrieked with laughter, and taught her how to say ridiculous French words that made her Papa cringe.

But today… something was different.

Yn sat up straight in Charles’ lap, frowned deeply, and crossed her arms. “I hate you, Uncle Pierre.”

The room fell silent.

Charles blinked. Pierre froze mid-stride. Even the Ferrari engineers looked up from their snacks in horror.

“Pardon?” Pierre asked, crouching slightly, as if he hadn’t heard right. “What did you say, mon bébé?”

“I said I hate you,” she repeated, even firmer this time. “I don’t like you anymore.”

Charles’ mouth fell open, trying to process what had just happened. Yn was glued to Pierre every time he visited. She’d once cried because Pierre had left without saying goodbye. This? This was unheard of.

“Yn,” Charles said gently, turning her toward him. “Mon cœur, why would you say something like that to Uncle Pierre? He loves you so much.”

“I heard you,” she said accusingly, looking up at her Papa with those big green eyes that matched his. “You said ‘I hate you’ to Uncle Pierre after the race. You said it. So now I hate him too.”

A slow, dawning realization passed across both Charles and Pierre’s faces — and then, just as quickly, the two burst into laughter.

“Ohhh,” Pierre said, hands on his knees, a warm smile blooming. “I see now. She’s standing up for you.”

Charles couldn’t help it — his heart swelled.

“She’s siding with me,” he said proudly, looking at his daughter in awe. “You’re defending Papa?”

“Uh-huh,” Yn nodded, her expression stubborn. “If you hate him, then I hate him too. That’s how it works.”

Charles scooped her closer and pressed his forehead to hers, still smiling. “Ma chérie, I don’t actually hate Uncle Pierre. We were just teasing each other. It’s like a game.”

“But you said it,” she insisted, clearly confused. “You were mad.”

“Oh, bébé,” Pierre said gently, slowly approaching and crouching beside the couch, “Your Papa and I joke like that all the time. It’s just silly talk. Like when you say ‘I’m never brushing my teeth again!’”

“I mean that,” Yn said very seriously, which made both men laugh again.

Charles took her tiny hand in his and kissed it. “You’re so clever, ma belle. You listen so closely. But sometimes adults say things they don’t mean, especially when we’re joking. I could never hate Pierre. He’s my best friend. You know that.”

“You said he was a ‘stupid goat’ last week,” she muttered.

“I stand by that,” Charles said dryly, and Pierre threw a cushion at him.

“I am a stupid goat,” Pierre added cheerfully, trying to coax a smile from her. “But I’m your stupid goat, no?”

Yn’s lips twitched. But she still turned her face away, resting her head on Charles’ chest again in a huff.

“I don’t know. I’m mad at you,” she murmured.

“Fair,” Pierre nodded solemnly. “May I offer a formal apology in the form of cookies?”

Yn peeked out at him. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip. With sprinkles. And tiny marshmallows.”

A long pause.

“Okay. Maybe.”

“Success!” Pierre whispered, pumping a victorious fist into the air.

Charles shook his head, amused. “You’re too good at this.”

“Hey,” Pierre said, tapping his chest. “Years of practice. Besides, I’m everyone’s favorite uncle. I have a reputation to protect.”

“Was,” Charles corrected teasingly. “Apparently, I’ve dethroned you.”

“Don’t make me challenge you to a duel for her love,” Pierre grinned.

Yn glanced between them, finally letting a giggle escape. “You can both be my favorites.”

“Smart girl,” Charles said, hugging her tightly. “Diplomatic like your Papa.”

The moment softened, warm like sunlight filtering through linen. Pierre sat beside them on the couch now, quiet and easy, giving Yn time to adjust.

After a few minutes, she wriggled out of Charles’ arms and shuffled over to Pierre, dragging her stuffed bunny behind her.

“Do you still want to play tea party with me?” she asked shyly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Pierre lit up. “You bet I do. But only if Bunny gets her own teacup.”

“She always gets one,” Yn said, a small smile growing. “She’s the queen.”

Pierre pressed a hand to his heart. “Then I’m honored to be invited to her court.”

Charles watched the two of them disappear into the corner of the room, where Yn had already laid out a mismatched tea set and a blanket, and couldn’t stop smiling. He could hear her instructing Pierre in the proper etiquette of bunny-queen tea ceremonies and his friend playing along like a professional actor in a royal play.

By the end of the session, Yn was in Pierre’s lap, her arms around his neck, while he kissed her cheeks noisily and she squealed with delight.

“I like you again, Uncle Pierre,” she said seriously.

“Thank God,” Pierre murmured. “I don’t think I could’ve handled being hated for real.”

“You’re funny,” she told him, yawning.

“And you’re my favorite little girl in the world,” he whispered back, brushing a curl from her face.

Charles crouched beside them, pressing a hand to his daughter’s back. “See, bébé? No one hates anyone. We all love each other.”

Yn nodded sleepily, curling into Pierre’s chest. “Okay. But don’t say hate again. It’s a bad word.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Charles said, meeting Pierre’s eyes. “We’ll both do better.”

Pierre gave a small, humble nod. “We’ll stick to ‘you silly goat’ next time.”

“Good,” Yn whispered.

Then, nestled between her two favorite men, she drifted off to sleep.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

BTW I did not die or dissappear, I was just on a trip for a week, but thank you to all your kind messages.

-🤍🦢

[merakidoll]

in the vibrant; loud, gentleman’s club were pretty women all shapes and sizes who danced and twirled on the shiny poles, lived an office. the office was just as luxurious, it had a staircase and large clear windows to look down onto the club. in that same office was a bathroom. large, with a clear mirror that saw everything. but onyankopon’s favorite use of the mirror was when he stood and watched you bounce on his dick.

“yea, dance like it’s the pole mama” he slapped your round ass smirking at himself when you cried out bitting his shoulder. he just stood in his nike socks and naked as the day he was born. his chocolate skin glistened and muscles bulged. his tattoo decorated him beautifully. just like the girl who used her strength to bounce on his dick, hands wrapped around his neck, and ass clenching. while her clear stripper heels hung behind ony as all he did was hold her, slap her ass, and whisper nasty ass banter.

her bundles tickled her ass, teeth steady digging into her plump lip while her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. “that’s right baby show me why you my favorite girl” his words sent a strike to her heart. her pussy creamy and dripping down to onyankopon’s balls.“m’your favorite?” her big doe eyes looked into his pretty brown ones. “yea baby,” he kissed her lips. “now. show. me. why.” with his words he fucked his cock up into her going deeper and making her head fall back. he grunted in approval as he immediately got back to work.

his eyes glued to the mirror watching his dick disappear in the creamy goodness that was your pussy. throwing his head back he bit his lip, as your head crashed down into his neck a loud “onyyyyy” coming from you as your squirted all over him. so much so that it dripped down his leg. onyankopon slapped your ass, holding you up more, and finally started to fuck you during your orgasm. “fuckkk!!!” you moanded cunt sensitive but ony didn’t care, his balls tight and dick pulsing. he stuffed you full. not letting up as his ropes painted your pretty insides, solidifying why you are his favorite.

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Off-Duty - Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader

Summary: 1k words. Jack comes into the Pitt on his day off with no intention of working. One of his little guests has an affinity for raising his father’s blood pressure and adding to his gray hair. 

Warnings: unnecessarily long sentences, so sweet it’ll rot your teeth fluff. Poking fun at the U.S. military industrial complex (specifically the Marines). Whitaker catching strays.

a/n: Allow me to contribute to the Girl Dad Abbot Agenda. I gave him fraternal twins here, but his new baby is also a girl. So. The Abbot household will be 3-2 girls-boys because feminism. Divider credit!

If looks could kill, Whitaker would be a dead man.

The med student was approaching the provider dictation desk, about to sit down in a padded rolling chair for the first time all shift when Doctor Abbot firmly gripped the back of the chair seconds before Whitaker could reach for it.

“Oh, uh, sir- I was just gonna sit down and do some charting,” the med student explained in a rush with his perpetual terrified ghost of a Victorian child look.

“You can stand.” Dr. Abbot deadpanned, snatching the chair and whisking it towards the peds ED room.

“Wha-” Whitaker stood, mouth slightly parted. The kid was intelligent and had come into his own throughout his emergency medicine rotation, but some things and some people still never ceased to shock him. He watched through the glass door as Dr. Abbot got far closer to a woman, whom he assumed was the peds patient’s mother, than was professionally necessary.

The woman came into full view, displaying the swell of her belly. The student raised his eyebrows. It was a bold move, even for Dr. Abbot. He estimated the woman to be at the end of her second trimester, if not well into her third.

A toddler bounced from behind the woman and quickly attached herself to Abbot’s leg (the flesh one, anyway). The attending smiled—perhaps for the first time in recorded human history, thought Whitaker—before picking up the child and propping her up on his hip, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

The mother turned to Abbot and smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips while he massaged her lower back with his free hands. His wedding band stuck out against the woman’s lighter shirt. Ah. The wife. A moan that definitely wasn’t appropriate for the workplace escaped the woman, seemingly unknowingly, leaving Abbot with a subtle smirk on his face.

Jack guided his wife into the comfortable chair he’d commandeered. Whitaker envied the relief on her face. The lumbar support cushion and ergonomic design could’ve made him cry. His body was aching for relief after hours on his feet, but he conceded that the woman needed it more than he did.

With a barely audible whimper, the med student went back to his original task. He’s startled when a foldable plastic chair, the ones that are typically kept in patient rooms for guests, unceremoniously clatters down next to him, brought over by none other than the stoic night shift attending.

“My wife said she’s sorry for stealing your seat. I’m not.” Dr. Abbot provided no further context before heading straight back to the room he came from. Some of the surrounding ED staff caught wind of the interaction and glanced up at the status board.

PEDS RM 1. 3 YRS 5 MOS MALE J. ABBOT. FOREIGN BODY INGESTION

Understanding hums sounded out before everyone went back to work.

It was rare to see Jack in anything other than black scrubs at the hospital. Today, he was in full Dad mode. The pink glitter nail polish on his fingers matched his daughter’s. His white New Balance sneakers and cargo shorts allowed a clear view of his prosthetic, which his son had decorated with dinosaur stickers. If you looked close enough, you could see a small apple sauce stain on his shirt.

You relaxed further into the chair and closed your eyes once Jack came back to witness your daughter Ellie toddling around the exam room. At 30 weeks pregnant, rest and comfort were becoming increasingly difficult to come by, especially when raising 3-year-old twins.

Dr. Collins caught Jack sitting at the end of the gurney with his son when she waltzed in, tailed by Matteo.

“What brings you all in today? It’s a pleasure to see the Abbot family. Some members more than others…” Heather teased, making a show out of whispering to Jack’s wife and tickling Ellie.

“Jacob here ate some crayons. Maybe some other stuff too. I want imaging of the GI tract to rule out any other foreign bodies or obstructions,” Jack rattled off, never taking his eyes off his son. The doctor’s leathered, weathered hand dwarfed his son’s small leg. Jack had a tough time letting go of his kids, especially when they were hurt or sick.

“Maybe he’s got a future career in the Marines,” Matteo joked.

“Watch it.” Jack warned with an even glare. The intense look on his face didn’t last long; his wife’s giggle brought a small smile to his face as he glanced toward her. 

You winced when the baby delivered a particularly strong jab to your ribs. Jack’s smile quickly turned to concern before you shook your head to reassure him and ran a hand over your bump. Collins and Matteo didn’t miss the silent communication between the couple.

It made sense for the two of you. You were so in sync—always had been. The Pitt staff rarely got to see Jack’s wife, which you supposed was a good thing. Jack tried to keep his personal and professional life separate, but he’d become known for loving you and your little family so much. He would take your calls in the middle of a shift, routinely add more photos of his family to his locker, and occasionally show up to work with glittery nail polish if he forgot to remove it before clocking in.

Doctor Collins high-fived little Jacob, who was the spitting image of his father, after he tolerated the physical exam.

“No guarding or tenderness. Bowel sounds are hypoactive but present. Has he been NPO otherwise?” The physician glanced between the parents.

“We had breakfast around 8,” you supplied, exhaling when you got another sharp kick straight to the bladder.

“Alright. I’ll put in the imaging orders. Radiology will come and grab you guys soon,” Dr. Collins waved goodbye to the toddlers. 

Matteo kept a stash of stickers in his scrub pocket for the kiddos that came into the Pitt. Jacob gladly accepted one and promptly stuck it on Jack’s prosthetic. Matteo blinked a couple of times, watching the exchange. 

Jack was unfazed. His children seldom went a day without leaving their mark on him. If painted nails and a decorated prosthetic leg made them happy and preserved their innocence, he was happy to be a canvas.

The racecar was a fun addition to the dinosaurs anyway.

a/n: Please let me know what you think! Reblogs & comments keep me motivated <3

master list | post notifications @thesewordsxupdates

[seungisms]

thinking about cockwarming with changbin. he’s a little burnt out and tired, stressing alone in his studio over their upcoming album. but he hasn’t touched his keyboard in hours, hasn’t wrote down a single lyric or pitched a single beat. cause all he can think about is his sad and lonely cock, left bare without your cute pussy warming it up.

almost like you can sense your boyfriends’ frustrations you show up, looking just so cute donning his oversized shirt, hair messy and eyes sleepy - and he has half a mind to scold you for being up so late despite the fact he hadn’t slept in days. but you’re making your way over to sit yourself pretty on his lap and it’s not long before he has that very same shirt bunched up around your waist, panties shoved hastily to the side and pussy stretched around his cock. “that’s it baby, just like that. take it like a good girl.”

he can’t suppress the sigh of relief that falls from his lips once you sink yourself down, strong arms holding you close against his chest to keep you still - hips subconsciously lifting to fuck yourself on his cock before he’s stopping you with a small tut. “no, no my sweet girl. let me finish my work then i’ll take care of you, yeah?” and he fucking loves the whimper you let out in response, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck while his cock stays rested deep in your cunt, practically begging you to bounce on it. but he just keeps you there, pussy snug around him and feeling soso full it has you practically mewling in his lap, toes curling and nails breaking the skin of his bicep to try to keep yourself grounded - to not lose your goddamn mind just from the mere sensation of having a thick dick fill you up.

changbin hushes your pathetic gasps with gentle words, telling you how good you are for him, how well he’s gonna fuck you once he’s done, how your cunt was practically made for him. and it almost seems like the painful twitching of his cock pressing snug against your walls wasn’t bothering him in the slightest. but he’s just as far gone as you, just as desperate to forget about his impending workload and fuck your little pussy until it’s sticky and used up and so full of cum. he’s just better at hiding it. “that’s it baby, just a little while longer.” and after what seems like hours he’s shutting off his monitor, strong hands immediately finding home on your hips, forcing you off his cock only to dip right back in, fucking you right out of your sleepy state. he won’t stop until your pussy is well and thoroughly used, until it’s filled to the brim with cum and practically spilling out past your little bud, until you’re sobbing against his chest and claiming you just can’t take it anymore. but he knows you can handle it, his girl always take such good care of him.

“my pretty girl, let me fuck you the way you deserve.”

© seungisms - all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated. 

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro feels guilty leaving this time.

You’re expected to deliver your twins any day next week, and he’s expected to fly across the country for a charity event he really can’t even think straight for. You've assured him you'll be fine, his sister is more than capable of taking care of you while he's gone, but there's a pit in his stomach about the idea of leaving you.

But you send him anyways. With a kiss on his cheek and a promise to call him every day (if he had it his way, it would be every hour, but you wouldn't go for it).

The trip goes smooth enough, and he's grateful for you staying true to your word and calling him every night. It does make the time pass, you're safe, but he's more than eager to make it home to you.

He practically pushes his teammates out the door, he's the first one on the bus, his knee bounces anxiously the entire time- especially when the bus driver makes a wrong turn into straight construction, thrusting them in traffic for far, far too long without any service.

But you won't call him, right? Why would you, you've called him at night every day he's been here, and nothing of note has happened (not that that’s a negative to Rintaro, he’d rather your days be mundane and boring than active in your pregnancy).

His heart finally starts again once they pull into the airport parking lot, all of the teammates trying to not be annoyed at the events of the morning and trying to stay focused on the next steps of boarding the plane in a few hours.

Rintaro sighs, slipping his phone out and immediately calling you, not taking notice of just how many notifications bombarded his phone.

The line ring once, twice, and his shoulders relax as you finally pick up the phone. "Rin?" You ask, and you sound like you're in discomfort. But he merely brushes it off. You are very pregnant, after all, surely discomfort is normal.

"Hey babe, just got service from being in the bus, we've got a nasty delay because the fuck-head made us miss our fucking flight, so I might be home later than expected-"

“Rin, I'm in labor.”

Silence fills the line.

“No you’re not,” he says simply.

“As much as I would love to be kidding, I’m not. I’m 10 centimeters, babe.”

How you’re so calm right now, is beyond him.

Him, on the other hand, leaps up with absolute panic, a screechy “WHAT?” echoing through the airport. It catches more than a few looks from other people, but all Rin can think about is you.

You in the hospital, legs up in stirrups and gown being the only thing adorning your body. There's probably nurses and doctors everywhere, and Kaiya and Akito on the couch at home with his mother, waiting for the news.

"WHEN?"

"My water broke a few hours ago, got to the hospital with your sister and now they're getting ready for me to push. Your timing truly is impeccable."

“And you thought now was the best time to tell me?!”

“I tried to tell you earlier, but you had no service!” You defend.

Fuck, he could scalp the bus driver for getting fucking lost.

"okay, okay, okay lets calm down-"

You snort, "yeah I'll get right on that."

"Please, for everything unholy, don't joke right now," he pleads, and he hears you offer him a laughy 'sorry' on your end of the line. "Are you okay? Do you feel okay?"

"Well I don't feel particularly good, for all intents and purposes." You direct your attention to something else and he hears bustling in the background, "Rin I have to start pushing. Stay on the line.”

"No! Wait for me, I'll-"

"Yeah I'm not waiting for you," you snip. “I'll... be fine. Just stay on the call okay? For me?

Rintaro tries not to pass out as you start pushing, doctors encouragement coming through on the line, followed with your grunts of agony as you try to bring your two new babies into the world. He knows you’re strong, you don’t need him there, but there’s something deep inside of him that hurts at the idea that you don’t, he’s so close yet no where near close enough to be right there next to you, and he anxiously looks around him as he tries to find a private place for him to cheer you on, call your name, scream it, his soul in agony over something he has no control over.

It could be four minutes or four hours, rintaro has no idea as you finally scream in agony as a small wail breaks over the line, one akin to Akito and Kaiya’s as the two of them entered the world all those years ago.

“Beautiful!” His sister cheers, “just a bit more for Sachiko sis, you’ve got this!”

“No more,” you weakly whimper over the line, and Rintaro tears up as he chews on his thumb.

“Baby,” he chokes, “you’ve got this, okay? You can do this, I’m right here.”

“No you’re not!” You scream.

“Yes I am! I’m right here okay? I’m not going anywhere!”

“Rin I need you-“

“And I’m right here. I promise. Just close your eyes, I’m there, okay?”

Hes not there. He knows you know that. But right now, he can’t feel sorry for himself. He goes silent and listens to the bustling of the doctors and nurses preparing to bring Sachiko into the world, and rintaro has no clue how long it’s been before you’re ready to push again.

“Ready, momma?” He asks, and you let out a sob.

“Im so tired, Rin.”

“One more big push okay?” He chokes. “Push!”

And you do. You let out another shriek as you start to push, rintaro can practically see your legs tremble and face scrunch and throat tight as you let out another blood curdling cry, and before he can think, another set of crying fills the line.

His twins are here.

And he’s not.

“Good job, angel!” He hoots.

“She did so good, Rintaro,” his sister assures.

“I know she did,” he says, hand clutching his heart.

“They’re so handsome Rin,” You babble, and instantly, Rintaro’s face drops. “Such beautiful boys, they're so sweet, so handsome…”

Boys?

Oh fuck. Rintaro briefly thinks back at all the purples and pinks in the closet at home.

Immediately, Rin tries to conjure up an excited tone, squealing out a soft “boys?” in confirmation.

“She’s messing with you," his sister snickers. You’re laughing exhaustedly too, among your sniffles of agony and above the screaming of the newest twin.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” he says, breathless and his chuckles easing out.

“You've got new baby girls, Rintaro," his sister coos.

“We got them, boys!” He announces, causing an uproar of cheers to come from his teammates. He feels his heart sink to his stomach as his throat begins to swell. “I’m so proud of you baby… my good girls.”

“They’re so beautiful, Rin. So beautiful," you cry.

He sits on his suitcase and tries to imagine them, desperately, tiny hands pawing at the air, crying at the newness of the bright light and the world…

All without him. He’s not there.

“Who was born first?” He chokes, desperate to keep his voice steady. It was a complete tossup with the names, whoever was out first or second is precisely how the names would fall. But he just needs you to keep talking to him.

You understand, and you answer shakily, “Sachie,” you sigh. “Sachiko was 20 minutes later.”

“Late; just like momma.”

“Watch it.”

He chuckles around a flood of tears, a hand coming up to bring his hand up to cover his face. Hot, bubbled tears slip down to roll over his thick fingers, trying to stay composed in the airport that’s bustling with too many people.

“Im so proud of you,” he chokes, eyes screwing shut. Not long after, a massive hand claps down on his shoulder, Komori’s eyes flickering with understanding and apology. He’s got nothing to apologize for, but Rintaro takes the kindness regardless and puts a free hand on top of his to squeeze the emotions out. “My amazing girl. Fuck, I can’t wait to see you.”

“Rin, I have to go,” you say, and he hears the gruff voice of the doctor. “I love you so much. Come home safe, you’re no use to me dead.”

“Okay, princess,” he sighs shakily, burying his face in Komori’s stomach to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

He’s 99% sure he should be saying that to you, and not you to him. But regardless.

He waits for the line to die before taking the phone from his ear, blinking up at Komori with absolute heaviness in his heart.

“I should’ve been there,” he whimpers.

“You couldn’t control it, buddy.”

“But I should’ve been there. Not three cities over for some charity that I don't even care about."

It doesn’t matter the assurances Komori could try to pass him. It doesn’t matter that you’re okay, you’re strong and you don’t need him in this moment.

He should’ve been there to squeeze your hand, watch his two babies come into this world with you, kiss your forehead and whisper loving words in your ear.

And he couldn’t manage even that.

[starkid2464]

The villain and Aaron are sitting, waiting for one of villain’s henchmen to come pick them up.

Aaron tapped his finger against his thigh as his leg bounced. He just wanted to go home.

Suddenly the Villain burst out “God, could you stop that.”

Aaron froze, looked down at his hands and fiddling with thumbs, round and round and- “What are you doing now?” The villain groaned, clearly annoyed. “Sorry…” Aaron mumbled his hands now resting in his pocket and feeling the need for motion thrash inside him.

“What even is the punishment in this anyway? You’re annoying sure but surely the ‘hero’ could have come up with something better?” The villain grumbled.

Aaron should have picked a different shirt, god, he needed to move. He has to move, he has to rip this revolting, itchy hoodie off. He has to or he’s going to explode. He’s going to explode. He’s going to explode. He’s going to-

The villain is snapping in front of his face “Hey, wise guy, Why. Are. You. Here?” He punctuated each word with a clap that made Aaron want to cover his ears. But nooo, that’s not allowed either. And-scratch that he was covering his ears, god he needed his meds.

“Woah… uh it- it’s okay?” The villain stumbled out, god he wasn’t used to this.

Aaron tried to reply but found he couldn’t finish “It’s..” “It” “It’s o-“ “It’s”

“Spit it out already kid.” The Villain said

Aaron took a deep breath and managed to get out “I’m ok.”

The Villain walked directly in front of him, kneeled down and said “Yeah, you’re not convincing anyone. What’s wrong?”

Aaron tried “I need” “I can’t” “I” need, want, can’t “I” god, just god, please help “I” god why is it so hard to say. Aaron let out a shaky breath.

“Spit it out. Tell me what’s wrong!” The villain yelled

Aarons hands instinctively tightened around his ears and he brought his legs up to sit on the chair with him.

“Ugh, fine universe! You win this time. I’m sorry. Stranger.“ the Villain cursed

“‘s not your fault” Aaron managed to slur out.

“Then what is it.” The villain snarled out, clearly angry.

Aaron pulled his hands off his head, and started trying to pull his hoodie off.

“What dude, it’s freezing out here, you need that hoodie on.” The Villain said sarcastically.

Aaron finally said “That’s the problem.” Finally! God, words are hard.

“The car will be here soon enough.” The villain replied

“Huh?” Aaron wasn’t sure how they gotten into that topic.

“I uh said the car will be here soon.“ the Villain repeated, maybe his guy was hard of hearing? But that didn’t match up with most of everything else that his new court ordered buddy had done up to that point. Aaron still looked visibly confused. “It’ll be warm in the car? You can take your hoodie off there.” The villain clairified, he didn’t want to demean the guy, but the sudden look of understanding on the guys face made it clear he made the right choice. “So what’s your name?”

“Aaron.” He replied, quickly adding on “what’s yours?”

“That is for me to know, and me alone. What was that all about back there?” The villain asked.

“ADHD.” “Words are hard.” Aaron diminishedly replied.

“Oh…. Would it be easier to write?” The villain asked, suddenly even more unsure as to what the hero’s intentions were with this.

Aaron nodded his head with such fever that it started to hurt before he finally got himself to stop.

“Okay, I’ll just bring up my phone number and you can text me.” The villain replied joyous that he’d found such an easy solution. That was until Aaron had started swiftly shaking his head. “No? Why?” Villain asked.

“I” “I don’t” “My phone” Aaron kept trying to start but couldn’t get there.

“Oh, right. Hmm… let’s see… yep!” The villain had opened notes and had opened up a blank sheet, before handing the phone to Aaron. “What happened to your phone Aaron?” The Villain asked.

“Hero, took it a week ago and has refused to give it back. He didn’t give it to me when we left to come here. It’s probably still at home.” Aaron typed, tapping his toes in his shoes and handing the phone back to The Villain.

“That dickhead. Do you want me to break in and get it for you?” The Villain asked, anger seeping into the question, as he handed back the phone, with the text cleared.

“No. I’ll get it back eventually, next time I go home, it’ll be back on my bed until he needs me to do something for him.” Aaron handed the phone back to the villain.

“‘He’ll give it back when you go back’ what kind of bullshit is this?! You’re a grown ass man, it’s your phone. He can’t do this to you.” The villain seemed to be getting angrier and angrier. The villain passed the phone to Aaron. “And what do you mean he’ll take it again when he needs you?! You’re both adults, he can just ask you!” The villain continued.

“… It’s part of our living arrangement. I help him with his weird stuff and he pays most of the rent.” Aaron typed and handed the phone to Villain.

The Villain stood in shocked silence before muttering “That motherfucker…” he sighed and asked “So he’s done this before.”

Aaron averted his eyes before nodding his head, his hands tapping in his pocket.

“That son of a bitch.” The Villain passed the phone back. A car could be heard screeching to a halt in front of them. “Come on. Lets go get your stuff.”

“What? We’re not going to break into the apartment.” Aaron typed, walking swiftly to catch up with Villain. Villain was just outside the car, his hand on the door handle.

- and that’s my short fic, written by someone with ADHD

You have been given a month by the elders to devise a punishment for an infamous villain. You return with your ADHD roommate, Aaron, whom has been without Adderall for the last month, TikTok for the past week, and has consumed only Monster Energy for 2 days. You say, “He’s your problem now.”

[holybibly]

Unholy thoughts of the day, my angel bunnies: Hell is empty all the demons are out there.

Or you're the beautiful, precious black diamond of one of Asia's most dangerous mob bosses, Choi San, and to ensure your safety, San appoints Seonghwa - his rabid, psychotic dog - as your personal bodyguard, but without realising it, San himself pushes you into the hands of the devil himself. And you will be more than happy to be seduced by its darkness, completely burning between two black suns.

San knew that Seonghwa was always a bit on edge, slightly crazy, but along with his wild, almost animalistic behaviour, Hwa was devoted to San to the core and would do the dirtiest and most horrible things for him without question, even if it was completely against his own wishes and principles.

To say that Seonghwa was furious when San ordered him to guard you and be your personal dog on a leash would be an understatement, but he still obeyed without question.

At first he couldn't understand what it was about you that made San crawl on his knees in front of you, ready to lick your heels, because when he wanted a tight, warm pussy he only had to snap his fingers, but the more time he spent with you, the more he understood what San saw in you.

And the stronger and more dangerous his desire to possess you became. With each passing day his thirst grew and Seonghwa wanted you so badly that he was willing to burn the whole fucking world to make you his.

Hwa sleeps and sees how he will fuck you. How he makes you his, over and over again. Hwa tosses and turns in his bed, feverish, sweating and breathing heavily, imagining so vividly how he's going to eat your cunt.

And he won't just eat your pussy, he'll devour and ravage your cunt like it's his last meal. Seonghwa will bring you to orgasm again and again, make you come so hard that his whole face, neck and even chest will be wet, and that's not counting how much you have squirt directly into his mouth, you will cry and squeal sweetly, beg him to stop, push his head away from your pussy, pull his hair, but Hwa will only slap your pussy roughly and aggressively and penetrate your anal with his fingers. "Mmm, my precious little angel, you will take everything that is given to you and you will take it until I myself decide that you have had enough."

In contrast to the aggressive, rough and almost wild pussy eating that Seonghwa always gives you, San treats your pussy like some kind of royal, almost divine thing and spends hours and hours licking and caressing it. Unlike Seonghwa, who fucks your hole with his long, slutty tongue until you squirt into his mouth, only to spit it all out on your cunt, San sticks out his kitty tongue and rubs your clit with his thumb, waiting for your juices to squirt onto his tongue, purring sweetly at the taste of your cunt and greedily swallowing everything you give him.

But there are also nights when they both end up in your bedroom, nights when San forces Seonghwa to watch him lick and fuck you. It irritates him so fucking much, the way you ride San's face while his kitty tongue tries to penetrate you as deep as possible, but he's too short and soft to bring you to orgasm by penetration.

Or the way you bounce on his thick cock, and even though your cunt stretches sweetly around his massive girth, Hwa knows he can fuck you better, all he has to do is insert the head of his cock into you and you'll squirt like a fountain for him. Or the way San rubs his cock on the sheets as he eagerly licks your pussy, and if it were him you'd be on top of him in a hot slutty 69 with your pussy rubbing against his nose and his tongue between your folds as you play with his balls and slurp his cock like candy.

And perhaps it would have been wiser for you to have chosen one of them before things got dangerous and deadly, but you wanted both, and you couldn't say no to either.

You were a fool to play with fire so carelessly, but as they say, let it burn.

[ghostgirl-22]

CW: MDNI, NSFW

Dilf Coach!Art who feels like he should know better. You’re way too young, barely out of college, way too off limits. He’s friends with your dad for crying out loud.  But everytime you walk on the court in your tiny tennis skirt (he swears they get shorter every time he sees you) he starts to sweat and his palms feel itchy. 

Dilf Coach!Art who’s kind of a pushover. He can’t really say no to you. He tries but you manage to walk all over him easily. Five laps around the court turns into two. Twenty push ups turn into ten. The whole time he’s getting distracted. Fixated on your tits bouncing when you jog, or the little bit of cleavage that shows and the way your skirt rides up when you’re on your hands and knees for push ups.     

Dilf Coach!Art who gives in when you beg him for a ride home after practice. It’s started to rain and your parents are running late and he’s just trying to be nice. He does notice the way you squeeze your thighs together, the way your breathing picks up once the car door shuts.  

Dilf Coach!Art who tells himself it’s only gonna happen one time when you guide his hand between your thighs at the red light so he can feel how wet you are for him. When you crawl onto his lap after he pulls over behind the club parking lot. When he shivers as he sinks into your tight wet cunt. 

Dilf Coach!Art who loses it almost immediately when you get on top of him— you’re just too fucking pretty! He slides his hands up under your top to cup your tits as you ride him and suddenly he’s seizing up… begging and pleading with himself… “No no, please. Fuck… oh please no fuck fuck fuck…” and suddenly he’s painting inside your walls with so much cum, shame filled tears in his eyes. “Shit… shit I’m sorry.” An even more shameful whisper. “Are you on the pill?”

Dilf Coach! Art who makes it up to you by laying you out in the backseat. Fingers and mouth in your cunt, fucking you so good you end up soaking the leather of his fancy sports car. The one he bought himself after the divorce to make himself feel better. He’s gonna have to get it detailed. But at least it’s only the one time because he’s not gonna do it again. He’s really, really not. Really.

(Blah! Rumors of dilf coach!Art in my inbox. So here are some random head canons no one asked for to help me flesh him out. He won’t be here for a while.)

[lay-z]

pricesoap 😩

This is for you, hon. Thanks for always matching my freak 🩷

Pairing: John Price x 🐇 hybrid!Reader x John MacTavish

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Hybrid AU; bimbo!fem!Reader; military issued emotional support hybrid; smut; soft dom!Price; abrupt ending (sorry!)

When you were assigned to the 141 as their lovely and incredibly submissive emotional support bunny hybrid, Johnny ended up bonding with you in an instant while it took his teammates a moment to warm up to something so utterly sweet and docile like you.

And while Simon and Kyle were less brash in their approach to your service as their ESH, Johnny thrived in your presence—seeking out your attention and affections every chance he gets while steadily falling for your buzzing energy and immaculate good vibes.

And on top of that—you matched his freak with equal fervour.

In fact, so much so, that for the first time in his life, it’s actually Johnny who ends up tapping out first while you continue to bounce on his spent and poor overstimulated cock with blissfully wild abandon.

And when it gets to a point where Johnny reports late for duty thrice in a row—dark circles now dulling his naturally bright eyes while he foolishly tries to refuel his dehydrated body with a deadly mix of black coffee and energy drinks—it’s Captain Price who finally steps in to prevent his Sergeant from ending up in the med bay with a broken prick and a rupture.

And Price takes Johnny aside after a long briefing, having watched him fidget and squirm in his seat, fully aware that he’s just dying to dig his meaty fingers into the plush fat of your hips while burying himself deep into your giving cunt.

The Captain knows, because he’s been there, too.

“You gotta slow down with our girl, son,” he chides the younger man eventually, steely eyes boring into bright blue ones to get his point across. “She’s not some mindless fucktoy for you to use every night. She’s part of the team and I need you to respect her position–”

Oh, but Johnny respects your position, alright.

When Price notices Johnny’s wandering gaze and drifting thoughts, he brings his hand up to curl around the man’s neck, giving him a firm squeeze that leaves Johnny gasping with wide eyes as the Captain leans in closer: “Fuckin’ focus, Sergeant. I’m not gonna say it again, understood?”

Johnny nods, barely able to move while Price basically scruffs him. “A-aye, sir!”

Price huffs through his nose, pleased by his Sergeant’s stammered answer before he loosens his grip around his thick neck.

“Good,” he grumbles, giving Johnny a firm few pats on the shoulder. “My place at 2100 sharp tonight… and don’t you dare be late, MacTavish.”

Johnny shows up ten minutes early, still shuddering with the memory of his Captain’s strong hand around the nape of his neck, gooseflesh pebbling on his skin underneath his civilian clothes.

When he knocks on the front door of Price’s private quarters, it takes less than a minute before the door swings open, revealing the Captain himself; wearing a pair of comfortable slacks and a black polo with the buttons left open and dark coarse chest hair peeking out through the gap.

“Evenin’, sir,” Johnny greets him, already looking past the older man’s broad shoulder, expecting to hear Simon and Kyle inside—and hearing none of their familiar voices. His thick brows furrow in confusion, but Price merely chuckles gruffly, shaking his head and taking a step aside to let his Sergeant in.

“Come in and wait in the living room. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Ever the obedient soldier, Johnny does as Price says—only the freeze on the threshold to the dimly lit room once he spots you sitting on the black brown leather couch, all pretty and clad in his favourite pair of matching lingerie—the pale pink set he’d gifted you not too long ago.

He expected a surprise poker night with Price and the lads, but not—this. Definitely not this.

“Johnny!” you exclaim, eyes shining with the kind of raw adoration for him that has his cock twitch in his boxers like a Pavlovian response.

“Hi, my bunny,” he greets you, somewhat breathlessly, as he approaches the couch. He has no right to question why you’re here—you belong to the rest of the 141 as much as you belong to him—but your presence, after what Price had told him today, makes his stomach tie into nervous knots.

When he bends at the hip to steal a kiss, you eagerly meet him half-way, straightening your spine as he cups your face with one hand and pets one of your floppy bunny ears with the other; thick fingers brushing over the soft, creamy-beige fur.

He can feel you smile against his lips as your hands reach up to grab fistfuls of your shirt, keeping him in place as you try to deepen the kiss. Johnny can only groan, resolve melting like stick of butter in the sun, while the thought of his superior’s presence is pushed into some uninteresting parts of his busy brain—

“MacTavish,”

Johnny freezes, eyes flying open at the reprimanding growl coming from his Captain before he gently pries your hands from his shirt to pull back, ignoring your protesting whine with a tug on his heartstrings.

Price saunters into the living room, one hand shoved into his pants pocket, the other holding onto a freshly lit cigar. “I’m disappointed, but not surprised,” he says before taking a slow puff.

Out of habit, Johnny stands at attention—broad shoulders squared, spine stiff, feet squeezed together, and you giggle behind him before he can throw in a salute on top of it all.

“At ease, Sergeant,” Price says with a quiet, amused snort before nodding his chin in your direction. “Be a darling and strip for us, aye? We’re going to do what we’ve talked about earlier, sweetheart.”

When Johnny glances over his shoulder, one thick eyebrow raised in question, you only nod obediently as you unclasp your lacy bra with practiced ease and letting it drop onto the carpeted floor haphazardly.

“Uh, Cap’n,” Johnny croaks out, swallowing hard while his throat is rapidly drying up as he looks back at Price for some guidance—or a proper revelation about what the bloody fuck is going on here. “Wh–What is goin’ on here? If ye wanna spend tonight with our girl, Ah’d completely understan’, ye know, but–”

And then Price steps up to Johnny, and whatever words he thought about saying, immediately die on his lips when the Captain blows a plume of smoke while pushing his warm hand against Johnny’s sternum.

“I’m gonna teach ya how to properly fuck our girl, Sergeant.”

[regressionschool]

Surprised and Soaked

You’re standing in the nursery, the soft blue cloud-print onesie hanging open around your thighs. You hadn't even noticed that the zipper had slipped down. You’re too distracted to care, though—because something just feels different.

You pat the front of your diaper with both hands and freeze.

It’s wet.

Not just damp… not soaked either… but definitely not dry anymore. And the strangest thing? You didn’t even realize it had happened.

Your mouth forms a little "O" and your eyes go big. “I… I didn’t do it on purpose…”

Then your heart leaps in your chest—you didn’t notice it at all. That means the un-potty training is working!

A squeal of excitement escapes your lips. “It’s happening! It’s really happening!!”

You bounce on your toes, the thick padding between your legs giving a soft, puffy crinkle with every move. You don’t even zip up the onesie. You just grab the sides and rush out into the hall.

“Daddyyyy!” you shout, bare feet pattering against the floor.

You find him right where you hoped—in the playroom, organizing your toys. He turns around just in time to see you burst in, beaming from ear to ear and showing off your soggy diaper like a prize.

“Well now,” Daddy says with a surprised little smile. “What’s got my baby girl so excited, huh?”

You practically throw yourself into his arms. “I wet!” you exclaim. “I didn’t even know I was doing it!”

Daddy kneels down and places one warm hand on the front of your diaper. He gives it a soft squeeze. The padding rustles damply under his palm.

“Ohh yes you did, sweetheart,” he murmurs with a proud grin. “And you didn’t even feel it happening?”

You shake your head wildly, pigtails swishing. “Nope! It just happened!”

Daddy chuckles, rubbing your back with one hand while patting your diaper with the other. “That means your little body is learning to forget all those big girl habits. You’re becoming Daddy’s full-time baby girl.”

Your heart flutters. You feel warm all over—inside and out.

“But this diaper’s only a little wet, princess,” he adds, giving you one last squish. “It can hold much more before you need a change.”

You beam proudly, bouncing in place. “Should I fill it up before nap time?”

Daddy smiles, brushing your hair back. “Yes, sweetpea. That’s exactly what I want.”

[theyluvivi]

CHRIS SENDS YOU A... SPECIAL VIDEO.

It's not unusual for Chris to send you videos.

Hell, you're concerned when an hours past and he hasn't sent you one. Even though you complain all the time that you'd prefer if he just texted you—He just says he wants you to see him, that it's easier for you to get what he means when you watch them.

So you're not surprised when he sends you one after you received one 30 mins after he said he was getting on the game.

You raise your eyebrow when you see just how lengthy it is, but you still click on it.

It starts with him just propping his phone up, you seeing the light of his computer illumate his face. But then he scoots back in his chair, hands immediately going to his headphones, "Miss y'so much it's crazy."

"I know, I know we saw each other yesterday—But I want my girl." You're giggling, smiling to yourself until suddenly, his sweatpants are down and you seeing the raging boner he has.

"Was thinking of you while playing.... look what you did."

Fuck.

His hands trail down to his boxers, cupping himself. "Not fair." He whimpers, "Saw the marks you left and just couldn't help myself."

Your thighs press together... and if your hand slipped into your sleep shorts it's no one business.

"K-know you're touching yourself too, mama— imagine its my hand, okay?" He lets out a shaky breath as he pulls down his boxers and finally frees his weeping cock.

"I need you— need y'so bad ma'—" He gasps, hand wrapping around his eager cock. "I— I kept imagining you bouncing on me— please—" Chris lets out a loud, whiny whimper that goes straight to your throbbing cilt.

"C—cant— can't even be loud cus Matt n' Nick are home-! Need y'to shut me up with your fingers—" He babbles, eagerly stroking his cock. "Teasing m-my tip just like how you do—"

"So fuckin' sensitive— I- mnf—" He whines, cock leaking like a faucet. "Needyoumama— needyouneedyouneedyou—" He repeats like a prayer, "I— please m' gonna cum— c-can I? Can I cum—?" He asks like you're there. God, you wish were there. Watching him make a mess of himself.

"Cum— cum with me— please mommy— c-cum—" He growls, head falling back in his chair. You're cooked. Fingers helplessly rubbing at your clit as you hips rut up to help you.

"Cum— m' cumming mama!" He practically screams, hand stroking himself at a rapid pace. Your hips lift off the bed before your eyes roll into the back of your head as your orgasm crashes over you.

A raspy giggle falls from Chris's lips as he finally comes down from his high. "Miss you...text me when you're done cleaning up, okay?

And then the video ends.

You're quick to follow his directions.

you're terrible.

tell me about

just got yelled at by matt and nick :p

whatever

you gonna do something abt it tho?

a/n: chris.... i mean who said that!

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizmez @drewswife @strnilolover @t0riiiis @courta13 @badgallrora @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @cherryswifeyy @sweeethrt @moond0llie @ambi-squirrelly @wastelandzella @applecidersturniolo @riasturns @iloveduckssm @oopsiedaisydeer

[jarofstyles]

Picture blurb time! I take a photo someone submits or I find myself and write based off of whatever inspo the picture gives me.

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—-

“I hate to say it!” He yelled over the sound of the rain. “I don’t think my jacket is doing shit to keep us dry!”

Y/N couldn’t help her laugh, the buzz from the wine making her much more agreeable than she had been when they’d first gone out. She would admit she could be a little grumpy when she was rushed and Harry had been hounding her about getting there in time, but he also knew a little red wine and a good serving of bread with the garlic and oil combination would calm her down. It always did.

“No shit!” She cackled, though made no attempt to remove it from their heads. Her entire body was soaked. Dress dripping, droplets over her hair as it bunched together in sopping strands. Her sandals were useless to protect her feet from the wet, cool rain and their traction was shit. Thankfully the cobblestones had some sort of grit.

When she'd agreed to take a spur of the moment trip with her boyfriend, she hadn't expected to be walking back to the apartment he owned in the small coastal town in Italy in pouring rain- but it was something she knew she would probably remember forever.

"It's not that bad though!" He spoke loudly so she could hear him over the rain. "At least it isn't freezing. Got caught in a downpour in London a while back n'I got that nasty cold. Remember?" Y/N did remember. He was a big baby when he was sick and it had been the first time she had taken care of him. It was only when she called his mum for her soup recipe that she filled her in on how Harry milked it for attention. She still indulged regardless.

"Okay, true, but I want to get back so can you walk a little faster?" He was a little too slow for the pace they should be going. "Having those long giraffe legs should help you out!"

"Giraffe legs?" He sputtered, stopping in the middle of the street. Y/N yelped as he pulled the jacket down and the rain drops began splashing directly on her head and face. They were big, bouncing off her skin as she lifted her hand over her forehead to try to keep her eyes clear.

"Harry! What is wrong with you?"

"You said I had giraffe legs! We're on a romantic walk back in the rain during the Italian summer n'you're going around calling me an animal."

"I never said you were an animal, you pest! I said you had the legs of one-" Y/N couldn't finish her sentence. Slightly cool, soft and most definitely wet lips found hers, the hand protecting her eyes pulled down by his hand as he tugged her body into his own.

It was like everything she was saying left her brain. Getting a kiss from him as the rain poured down over them seemed to reset her, body melting like the wicked witch into his body. Arms wrapping around his shoulders, she lifted up on her tip toes and kept the kiss going regardless of how soaked her face was getting. Tasting the wine on his tongue was far more important.

A whimper left her throat as he pulled back from her with a smile, nose nudging against hers. "Shush. Just let me be romantic, yeah? Can tell me all about what animals I remind you of tomorrow. Just want to kiss you for a minute."

[tikitakatia]

Fixer Upper — A. Putellas x Reader

"Couples Therapy"

WC: 1.4k

Summary: Alexia´s invited you to attend an impromptu therapy session that´s meant to help bring you closer together, much to your chagrin.

You should’ve known something was off when Alexia insisted on being early.

She’s never early for anything. Not brunch, not birthdays, not even her own surprise party, which she managed to be twenty minutes late for. The only time she runs on schedule is when she’s getting paid for it. So when she’s already dressed, keys in hand, and bouncing on the balls of her feet fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to leave, your internal alarm bells start softly ringing.

“We’re gonna be late,” she says.

You glance at your phone. “It starts in thirty minutes.”

“Exactly. What if there’s paperwork?”

“You hate paperwork.”

She just grins that stupid grin. The one she gets before she does something outrageous and claims it’s romantic. You eye her warily but still let her drag you out the door, because you’re a fool.

The office is in a coworking space downtown. It has exposed brick, too many succulents, and a suspiciously cheerful front desk attendant who offers you organic mints from a jar labeled "for emotional clarity."

The waiting room is... unconventional. No couch, no fidget toys, just scattered bean bags, color-changing LED lights, and a TV screen looping stock footage of couples doing yoga. You sit and wait, but as the seconds pass, you start to feel the creeping edge of concern.

“Is this a tech startup or a therapy office?” you mutter.

“Babe. Chill. It’s probably a modern approach or something.” Alexia’s already opened her complimentary LaCroix.

Before you can ask what that even means, a woman with aggressively symmetrical eyebrows and a t-shirt that says “LOVE IS A JOURNEY, LET US BE YOUR GPS” steps into the room.

“Hi! I’m Maya 😊” she says, the smiley face emoji somehow audible in her tone.

“Thanks for joining our guided couples session. If you’ll follow me, we’ll begin with a light partner diagnostic and then a few reflection prompts in the group circle.”

You blink. “Partner diagnostic?”

Alexia pats your leg. “See? Modern.”

You follow Maya into a room filled with more bean bags, a couple of ring lights, and a half-circle of already-seated couples. You take your seats. You try to stay open-minded and remind yourself that you agreed to this.

“Okay,” Maya says, clapping once.

“Before we begin, just a quick heads-up that we’ll be exploring five core compatibility questions designed to help you reflect and deepen your bond. This is a judgment-free zone, so feel free to be honest and vulnerable. Or silly! We love silly geese here!”

You watch as one couple high-fives. Another is wearing matching sweatshirts that say “Love is a Verb.” You suppress a shudder.

The first prompt comes with no warning.

“So! What’s one habit your partner has that drives you a little bit crazy but is also kind of endearing?”

You look at Alexia. Alexia is already smiling.

“She growls at her phone when she’s annoyed,” she says, without missing a beat.

“Like a little thundercloud trying to send emails.”

You stare. “I do not.”

“She does. It’s like grrrrr, but about as threatening as a pomeranian.”

“I swear to God, Alexia.”

Maya beams. “That’s such a vivid image! Okay, your turn.”

You cross your arms. “She steals my food.”

Alexia gasps, offended. “I protect you from health scares.”

“No, you order some healthy shit, decide that you don't like it, and then eat half my fries.”

“But amor, I love you.. And your fries.”

You glance around and see other couples who are nodding and laughing like this is all very charming. One woman is crying into a man’s shoulder about how she finally feels seen. You’re starting to feel... deeply unwell.

Maya claps again. “Let’s move on to the next reflection. Imagine your partner’s had a hard day. How do you support them?”

Before you can answer, Alexia grips your hands dramatically.

“Babe,” she says. “You’ve had such a long day being mean and scary. Do you want me to run you a bath or hide your laptop?”

“I will destroy every LaCroix in this building.” You hiss under your breath.

“She’s really opening up today.” She turns to the group.

You grind your teeth so hard your jaw pops.

“We love that emotional safety.” Maya nods solemnly.

The third question hits like a sideswipe: “If your relationship were a team sport, what would your roles be?”

Alexia lights up. “Well football of course! I’m still the midfielder. She’s defense. No one gets past her. Or speaks to her. Or makes eye contact.”

“I’m filing for free agency.” You deadpan.

A man across the circle pipes up, “My wife’s the goalie. She blocks all my bad ideas.”

You glance at him. He’s wearing socks with hotdogs on them and a fanny pack. You make a mental note to investigate further.

“Let’s keep the good vibes going,” Maya trills. “If your partner were a dessert, what would they be and why?”

You nearly choke. “How is that therapy?”

Alexia doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s a molten lava cake. Looks intense. Bad for your health. But if you wait it out... gooey on the inside.”

“You’re deranged.” You say as you stare her down.

“I’m romantic.”

You glance around again. One couple is whispering into a shared AirPod. Another has been feeding each other dried mango slices like birds. You feel like you’re trapped in a quack health influencer’s fever dream.

By the time Maya announces the final question, you’re already halfway to existential collapse.

“What’s something your partner doesn’t know you appreciate about them?”

You look at Alexia. And you know you could make a cutting joke. You want to. But instead, your mouth says something soft.

“She makes everything fun. Even when I don’t want it to be.”

Alexia blinks.

You add, “She’s chaos. But she’s mine.”

There’s a collective “awww” from the room. Alexia practically preens.

She says, “I was gonna say your ass. But that works too.”

You rub your eyes with both hands.

Maya beams. “Wonderful reflections, everyone. And just a quick housekeeping note, if you haven’t already, please complete the feedback form in the app so we can send you your 15€ Amazon gift card!”

You freeze.

Your brain hits a wall and reverses.

You glance at Maya. Then at Alexia. Then back at Maya, slower this time.

“Sorry,” you say, like someone testing the edge of a knife. “Did you say... app?”

“MindMatch!” Maya chirps. “Thanks again for being part of our beta testing group. Your responses really help us shape the user experience!”

There’s a faint ringing in your ears. You turn, mechanically, to Alexia.

She is suddenly very interested in the condensation on her LaCroix.

“This,” you say, with the voice of someone holding in a scream, “isn’t therapy.”

“It’s kind of therapy,” she says into her can.

“It’s market research.”

“It’s couples bonding through market research.”

“Alexia.”

She shrugs, not even a little sorry. “We got to talk about our feelings, didn’t we?”

“We got ranked on vulnerability and made to roleplay in front of strangers so someone in a WeWork could optimize user retention.”

“And,” she adds brightly, “we’re getting gift cards.”

“You are a millionaire. Why are you like this?” You ground out.

“I love prizes.”

You squint at her like you’re trying to set her on fire with your eyes. She smiles like she’s already won.

“You tricked me.”

She slides an arm around your waist as you start walking out. “And yet, you said I’m your chaos.”

“I meant that like someone might say that child has a knife.”

She leans on your shoulder. “Still counts.”

You sigh so deeply you feel it in your spine. “I want you to know I’m never trusting you again.”

“Lies.”

“I’m filing for emotional damages.”

“You smiled.”

“Out of shock.”

“You called me your chaos and said I make things fun.”

“I was having a medical episode.”

She stops just outside the building and grins at you. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

You eye her. “I roleplayed a fake meltdown and told strangers about your food theft.”

“And now you’re stronger for it.”

“I hope your next smoothie explodes.”

She’s still grinning. “Wanna get dinner? I’ll let you order fries.”

“You’ll steal them.”

“Just a few. For bonding.”

You shake your head.

And you really do hate it, how easily she wins. How quickly she turns a disaster into something weirdly warm. You sigh again.

But your mouth betrays you and twitches up at the corners.

Because she may have lured you into a glorified dating app workshop disguised as therapy, and you may never recover from the secondhand embarrassment of being called “a thundercloud with trust issues” in public, but she’s yours.

And you’re hers.

And yes, she’s chaos.

But somehow, you're a molten lava cake.

And unfortunately?

She’s got a spoon.

[wosospacegirl]

Stuck with you - part 7

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: Y/n finally apologises (growth!), but then Kika wants to start a book club. The problem? Y/n’s dyslexic. Also, during a very intense and questionably organised game of war, the girls accidentally uncover Y/n’s very real, very inconvenient feelings for Kika.

Word count: 8.7k

Masterlist here

..

Y/n sat on the edge of the physio table, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of the brace. The room was quiet, the only sound being the low hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Her heart raced with anticipation.

The physio had just given her the green light.

“You can take it off,” he said, his voice calm. “Walk carefully, no running or intense training yet, but if everything goes according to plan, you’ll be cleared to play next week.”

Y/n couldn’t hide the grin that spread across her face.

She had spent the last few weeks cooped up, feeling useless, and now, finally, she could walk again without the boot weighing her down. 

She pulled off the brace with a mixture of excitement and relief. It felt strange but so good to have it off, to finally feel her ankle moving freely again.

For the first time in weeks, she felt like herself. The thought of training next week, being back on the pitch with her teammates, was almost too much to contain.

Her fingers were still tingling from the moment she had taken off the brace, and Y/n stood, stretching her legs with a little bounce. She walked carefully around the physio room, testing her movement, but her steps were light, her body responding, the way it used to.

It felt so freeing that she forgot to stick to her usual route. The one that led her far away from the locker room, away from Kika. Instead, she found herself walking toward it, without even thinking.

It's fine, she told herself. Just go grab your things and leave. No big deal. You’ll be fine.

But when she got to the locker room door, she stopped. Kika and Jana were talking in front of it, laughing. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary, just two teammates chatting. But to Y/n? Everything felt off. The world seemed to slow down for a moment as her breath caught in her throat.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t how she had imagined her first real interaction with Kika after everything.

Her mind raced. She could turn around.

She could avoid them, take the long route back to the car park. But as she made the decision, she felt the ground beneath her shift.

From the corner of her eye, Y/n saw Jana glance up first, her expression flickering with recognition...and something else.

Surprise, maybe. Or guilt.

Then Jana was smiling like nothing had happened at all.

“Hey, there she is,” she said, bumping Kika’s arm gently. “Look who’s back on two legs.”

She smiled at Y/n, like she hadn’t just spent five minutes laughing with the girl Y/n had been avoiding.

“Y/n?” Kika’s voice broke the silence, soft and kind. “Hi! How are you? It's been such a long time. Everything okay?”

Y/n froze. For a split second, her breath hitched in her chest. This wasn’t what she had expected at all.

The anger, the coldness, the distance she thought Kika would throw at her—it wasn’t there.

Kika smiled at her,  the same sweet expression Y/n had seen so many times. Soft and open

Y/n had prepared herself for this conversation to be tense, for Kika to ignore her or be harsh like Y/n had been to her a few weeks ago. But the reality? It didn’t match her expectations at all.

Kika was standing there, calm and genuine, smiling like everything was fine.

“Yeah, I’m good. Walking again, finally. So that’s… nice. Cool.” Y/n winced at herself. “Just heading in to grab my stuff.”

She paused, words drying in her throat. She was rambling. Too casual, like she was trying to pretend she hadn’t been watching from the hallway for the past thirty seconds, frozen by the soft way Kika had smiled at Jana. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

It came out stiffer than she meant. Formal. Distant. Like some awkward outsider who had wandered into the wrong moment.

She hated it.

Jana watched them both, her smile polite, but her gaze lingering a little longer than usual. She wasn’t saying anything, but it was clear she was trying to read the room, like she could tell something was shifting between Y/n and Kika.

Kika raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into that gentle smile. “That’s great. I’m really glad to hear that. I—uhmm, I heard you were doing better.”

Y/n finally forced herself to meet Kika’s gaze.

“Kika…” she started, then faltered. The name sat heavy on her tongue, too full of everything she hadn’t said.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” she said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I should have... I should have been better about everything.”

Jana shifted on her feet. “Sooo..... I’m gonna pretend I’m suddenly needed somewhere else,” she said, joking just lightly, but her eyes lingered on Y/n like she wanted to say more.

“You good?” Jana added under her breath, the question just for Y/n.

Y/n nodded quickly, too quickly, and Jana didn’t push.

Before she stepped away, Kika turned to her. “Bye, Jana. And thank you again for showing me around the city yesterday—that bar was really nice.”

Jana smiled, warm and casual. “No problem. I’m glad you liked it.”

She gave a little wave and disappeared down the corridor, leaving just the two of them.

‘Oh, they really went out on that little tour, ’ Yn thought, a sting hitting her chest.

Kika’s smile softened even more as she turned back to Y/n. “You don’t have to apologise,” she said quietly. “We all have our moments. It’s fine.”

Y/n’s throat tightened at the simplicity of it all.

It was so much easier than she thought it would be—so much easier than she had imagined when she had planned this apology in her head over and over again.

But that didn’t make it any less real. She was still so sorry, still feeling guilty for all the space she had put between them.

“I’m just... really sorry,” Y/n said again, her voice thick. “I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

Kika’s smile returned, more reassuring now. “It’s okay, really. We’re good.”

For a second, Y/n felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe Kika wasn’t going to forget everything that happened, but this felt like a good start.

“Okay,” Y/n said, exhaling slowly. “I’ll, uhm... I’ll see you around then?”

Kika nodded, her eyes soft. “Yeah, Yeah, of course.”

..

Y/n sat at the dinner table, pushing her food around without really eating, the usual quiet hum of the house surrounding them. 

But tonight, something was different.

Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, a small grin crept onto her lips.

It was almost imperceptible, but it was there—a rare, almost foreign expression on Y/n’s normally grumpy face.

Alexia and Olga shared a quick glance across the table, their eyes narrowing in curiosity.

'What happened?' Alexia mouthed to Olga, her eyebrow raised in question.

Olga simply shrugged, her lips curling into a small smile of her own. She was clearly amused, but also intrigued. 'I don't know', she mouthed back.

The tension between the two of them only made Y/n feel even more awkward.

She could practically feel their gaze on her, even though she kept her eyes focused on her plate.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, Olga couldn’t hold back anymore. “Nena?” she asked, her voice soft but gentle.

Y/n looked up, startled by the question. “Uhm?” she replied, trying her best to sound nonchalant.

Olga leaned forward, her voice teasing. “Did something happen today?”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her grin fading into something more neutral. “hmm, yes... I got my brace off,” she said. “I already told you guys that.”

Alexia tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “Hmm, okay. But maybe something more?” she asked, her voice laced with a teasing undertone.

Y/n paused, her eyes flicking between the two women. 

She thought for a second, then shook her head.

“No,” she said firmly, then immediately returned to pushing her food around, trying to avoid their questioning stares.

But Alexia and Olga just stared at each other again, exchanging looks.

Olga, clearly not ready to let it go, leaned toward Alexia. “Go, go,” she whispered, urging Alexia with a nudge. “Ask her again.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, mouthing back, 'No.'

Olga’s glare could only be described as a scowl. “I’m serious.”

Alexia sighed dramatically. “Nena, please tell us,” she said, her voice suddenly more genuine.

“Olga is scaring me.” She shot Olga a wary glance.

Y/n.rolled her eyes and threw up her hands, letting out a deep sigh. 

“Why are you guys so up in my business?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “Nothing happened. I just... I saw Kika today, and.... I apologised.”

Olga’s eyes lit up, a wide grin spreading across her face. She couldn’t help herself, she clapped her hands lightly in delight.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. “I knew it would happen.”

Y/n turned her head to see Olga smiling at her with that knowing look.

She didn’t say anything, but the happiness in her eyes was undeniable.

“Good,” Alexia said simply. She didn’t grin or clap like Olga, but her brows lifted in a quiet approval.

Olga leaned forward, not missing a beat. “So, you guys are good now?”

Y/n thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I think so?”

Olga hummed thoughtfully, clearly considering it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Olga just shrugged, her smile never fading. “Nothing.”

Y/n turned to Alexia, who had been quietly observing, looking like she wanted to enjoy her food in peace.

“Alexia, what is your wife saying?” she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and frustration.

Alexia sighed, putting down her fork with a small frown. 

“Can we please just have a normal dinner?” she said, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Can we use words like normal people? Ask a question…..get an answer?”

But Olga, of course, wasn’t finished. She leaned back in her chair, eyes sparkling. “Did you buy something for her?” she asked casually, not missing a beat.

Y/n blinked in confusion. “For whom?”

Olga raised an eyebrow. “For Kika, of course!”

Y/n froze, her fork mid-air, panic flashing in her eyes.

“Did I forget her birthday??!” she blurted, suddenly feeling the weight of a thousand potential social faux pas crashing down on her.

Olga groaned, covering her face with one hand.

“You’re just like Alexia,” she murmured, exasperated. “Completely hopeless.”

“Hey!” Alexia shot back, laughing despite herself. “I didn’t do anything!”

Olga shook her head, still shaking her finger at Y/n. 

“If you hurt Kika and apologised, you could have bought her something, to really show you’re sorry. A little something to make up for it....you know?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed, frustration starting to bubble up again. “But I am really sorry! I already told her that!”

Olga leaned forward, lowering her voice as though imparting some great wisdom. 

“But you have to show it!” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. “Words are nice, Y/n, but actions speak louder.”

Y/n opened her mouth to argue, but then paused, thinking about it. Maybe Olga had a point. 

Her thoughts swirled, but the more she thought about it, it kinda of made sense, right? In movies, when couples fight, the other one always buys something to make up for it.

Not that Y/n and Kika wer a couple, of course not, but maybe buying something was good

It was… tangible? Or maybe she would just look straight up stupid.

“Alright,” Y/n said with a sigh, “what should I buy for her?”

Alexia, who had been mostly quiet up until now, shrugged lazily. “Anything, I guess.”

Olga’s eyes lit up like a lightbulb. “No, no! You have to think very hard! It can’t just be anything.”

Y/n blinked. “What do you mean, ‘it can’t just be anything’?”

“It had to be something nice, something that shows how much you thought about it,” Olga said.

“But I’m not thinking about anything!” Y/n said.

“Clearly,” Alexia said from her seat.

“I’ll help you think!” Olga leaned in, her excitement palpable. “What about perfume?” she asked, a sly grin tugging at her lips.

Y/n furrowed her brows. “I don’t even know what kind of smell she likes.” She felt her pulse quicken. What if I get it wrong?

“But perfume’s safe,” Olga persisted. “Everybody uses it.”

Y/n felt the panic bubbling up. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, trying to ignore the nervous energy coiling in her stomach. “Maybe something else?”

“What about flowers?” Olga suggested.

“Flowers?” Y/n’s face scrunched up. “That’s too personal, don’t you think?” She had never been good with personal gestures, let alone ones that could carry so much meaning.

Olga gave her an exaggerated eye roll. “It’s not that personal, Nena. Flowers are classic.”

Y/n groaned, leaning her head on her hand in frustration. “Okay, fine. But what if she doesn’t even like flowers?”

“Then what about clothes?” Olga suggested, raising her eyebrows. “I’m sure she would appreciate something cute. But make sure it’s something she would actually wear.”

“Clothes?” Y/n’s face drained of colour. “That would be random. I don’t know what she likes to wear!”

The pressure was mounting, and Y/n could feel it. Her hands fidgeted around the edge of her plate.

“Oh my god,” she muttered to herself. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and now I have to buy her stuff? I’m not... I’m not good at this. This isn’t me. Why is this so complicated?!”

Alexia finally sighed, her voice exasperated but kind. “One normal dinner....” she said, the words dragging out slowly. “That’s all I ask.”

Y/n’s head dropped to the table, her arms splayed out in frustration. “Why is this so hard?” she groaned.

Alexia’s hand came down harder on Y/n’s, squeezing until she looked up. Her voice was low and firm, as if she were delivering a technical plan before a big game.

“Listen to me, Nena,” she said, eyes locked on hers. “This isn’t rocket science. You care–great. Now stop turning it into a shopping list.” She let go, leaned back, and folded her arms. 

“Kika doesn’t need a parade of gifts. She needs one genuine gesture, delivered with confidence. You’re hiding behind options because you’re afraid of screwing it up. So pick one thing–anything–that says ‘I’m sorry I was an asshole’ and give it to her straight. Got it?”

Y/n nodded, a bit taken aback by Alexia’s tone.

“I think you only said that so you could insult me.”

Alexia smirked. “Maybe.” 

Olga chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Honestly, Y/n, Kika is a sweetheart. I think it’s easy to buy something nice for her.”

Y/n exhaled slowly, feeling a little less tense. Maybe it wouldn’t be perfect. Maybe she didn’t need to buy something extravagant.

What kind of social rule is that, anyway? Since when did an apology have an expiration date if it’s not...wrapped in ribbon? 

But Olga was good with people; if she said she should buy something, she probably should.

..

Y/n was just getting her water bottle from her cubby when she saw Jana entering the locker room. The lights on the tiled floor cast their long shadows toward each other.

Y/n’s heart gave a little flip—she hadn’t seen Jana since that awkward apology with Kika.

“Hey,” Y/n called.

Jana paused, offering her a quick, warm smile as she tucked her phone into her pocket. “Hi, amiga.”

“So… I know you show ed Kika around a few days ago” She tried to keep her tone casual, but her voice cracked. “How was it? Good?”

Jana shrugged, leaning back against the wall.

“Nice. I took her to that tapas bar we always go to...the one on Carrer del Bisbe.” She raked a hand through her ponytail. “Same one we always go to.”

“hm.” Y/n nodded. “Cool, that’s nice.”

They stood in silence for a beat, the distant thud of a ball in the training hall echoing behind them.

“Next time,” Jana said softly, “we should all go.”

Y/n blinked, her chest tightening. “We?”

“Yeah,” Jana replied, genuinely. “You, me, Kika, Salma, Vicky…friends.” She hesitated, then added, “I know you have been pulling away since your injury. I get it, but…I miss you, well, we missed you.”

Y/n’s stomach lurched. “Jana, I—”

Jana held up a hand, her expression gentle but firm. “You’ve been distant, okay. But I’m still your friend, you know? I miss hanging around.”

Y/n’s throat felt tight. “I-I’m not pulling away,”

Jana’s smile faltered, concerned about stepping in. “You’re acting weird with me, since you had that fight with Kika, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Frustration flared in Y/n’s chest. “Jana–”

Before she could finish, Alexia rounded the corner, shin guards clutched under one arm, damp hair still tousled from her shower. 

Alexia looked at Y/n, who didn't meet her gaze, then at Jana.

Alexia wasn’t the best at reading social cues, but she could feel the tension.

“Hm… am I interrupting?” Alexia asked.

“Of course not!” Jana exclaimed—her admiration for Alexia plain in the eager way she stepped forward.

Y/n rolled her eyes.

Y/n clenched her jaw. “Actually… yes.”

Alexia cocked an eyebrow, then set her guards down in Jana’s open locker.  She glanced from Jana to Y/n and back again. 

“Okay…what’s happening?” Alexia asked, eyes squinting. “Is it something I should worry about as a captain?”

“No,” they said in unison.

Alexia didn’t buy it. “Well, I think I should. For some reason, you two are standing here like....someone just missed a penalty in a final.”

“Nope,” they chorused again.

Her gaze softened.

“Alright. I won’t get involved.” She leaned against the locker briefly, arms crossed.

“But you two have been friends since you were kids. I remember you playing with dolls on the pitch together.” Her voice dropped, fond and firm. “Don’t let whatever this is...” she waved vaguely between them “ruin that. Okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, she slipped away down the hallway.

They stood in silence, again.

Jana glanced down, then slowly met Y/n’s eyes. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just—I miss you.”

Y/n inhaled sharply.

“I’ve been a mess lately,” she admitted. “I don’t know why I’ve been weird. It’s not you. It’s just…” Her voice cracked, and she trailed off.

Jana didn’t push. She just nodded, as if she already knew what Y/n wouldn’t say.

The air between them settled, calmer now, quieter.

“I know,” Jana said gently. “You don’t have to explain it all. I just wanted to say I’m still here. If you need me.”

Y/n looked down, then up. “I’m sorry... For pulling away. I didn’t know how to deal with… everything. I just feel like I'm the worst person to be around right now.”

Jana stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly over Y/n’s arm. “You’re never the worst. The injury, the pressure—it messes with your head. But I’ve got you, alright?”

Y/n cracked a small, grateful smile. “Yeah.”

Jana ducked her head and offered one more soft grin. “Alright?”

“Alright,” Y/n nodded.

“Good.” Jana patted her on the shoulder. “I’m off to training—don’t get lost on your way to physio, okay?”

Y/n watched her go, the weight in her chest finally loosening, before she turned and limped toward her appointment.

After clearing everything up with Jana, Y/n felt her mind finally quiet down. That night, as she lay in bed—her body heavy with exhaustion but her heart a little lighter—sleep came easier than it had in weeks.

And just before it claimed her, the perfect idea came.

A gift for Kika.

She would just have to wait until morning.

..

Y/n leaned against the cold concrete wall, her back pressed into the narrow hallway just outside the training ground.

She shifted nervously, the large bag in her hands weighing down on her more than it should.

It wasn’t heavy—just books.

A mix of novels she had bought earlier that morning

She went to the closest bookstore and literally bought every book she thought Kika would like. She glanced at the bag and let out a breath, eyes closed for a second.

Just then, the sound of voices reached her ears.

She peeked out from the edge of the hallway, her heart racing as she spotted the girls coming out of the training room. 

She immediately froze, the bag still clutched tightly in her hands. Okay. This was it. She needed to talk to Kika.

Right now.

But as fate would have it, the first pair of figures to step out into the hallway wasn’t Kika.

It was Alexia. And Pina.

Y/n froze as they both stopped in their tracks, noticing the large bag she was holding.

“Where did that come from?” Alexia raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing, but there was a faint suspicion in her voice. “You didn’t have that when I drove you to training this morning.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed bright red.

“Uh, it’s... uh...” She fumbled for an answer, but beforre she could manage one, her eyes caught sight of Kika behind them.

She was walking.

The sight of her made Y/n's chest tighten.

Her stomach churned, and before she could overthink it, she was moving toward Kika.

Alexia and Pina stepped aside to let her through, their gazes softening as Y/n made a beeline for Kika.

“Hey,” Y/n said, offering a tentative smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hi…oh”, Kika gave her a puzzled look. “That’s like a ginormous bag,” she said, glancing down at the large bundle Y/n was still clutching.

Y/n felt her face heat even more. 

“Uh, yeah” She glanced around, trying to keep her voice steady. “Actually…I got it for you, here,” She handed Kika the bag before she could stop herself.

Kika’s eyes widened, surprised. “Wait, what?”

“For you. It’s a gift,” Y/n said quickly, shaking her head. “Keep it. It’s for you. Sí?”

Kika blinked, clearly confused. “For me?” she echoed.

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “Yeah,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“For... me being a complete asshole. I’m sorry for the way I acted... and, uh... how long it took me to come forward and actually talk to you about it.”

Kika’s expression softened, and she reached for the bag carefully. “You don’t have to, you already said you were sorry a few days ago.”

“I just wanted to make sure you know I’m really sorry.” Y/n interrupted. “I wanted to. It’s just—" She let out a frustrated sigh. "I’m sorry, yeah? I won’t ever scream at you again.”

Kika stood in silence for a moment, clearly processing Y/n's words, before she finally nodded, giving Y/n a small, tentative smile.

“Okay. I get it.” She paused, her eyes meeting Y/n's. “And... Thank you. For apologising… again”

Y/n watched her for a long second, feeling the weight of the apology settle between them.

Kika didn't say much, but that smile was enough. 

Y/n nodded slowly, a quiet resolve building in her chest.

Kika started pulling a few of the books out of the bag, her fingers tracing the covers with a soft smile—until her brows furrowed slightly.

“Wait…” she said, tilting her head. “They’re all in Portuguese.”

Y/n’s face went beet red. She shifted on her feet, suddenly very interested in the floor. 

“Uh... yeah,” she mumbled, scratching the back of her neck. “I thought you might be... homesick or something.”

She grimaced immediately after, like she regretted saying it out loud. “I’m not sure, I just... I just got them.”

Kika stared at her for a second, her mouth slightly open in surprise, before her smile softened into something so fond it almost made Y/n combust on the spot.

“I love them,” She hugged the books to her chest like they were the most precious thing she had ever received. “Thank you. Really.”

Y/n shrugged, trying and failing to look casual. “It’s no big deal,” she muttered.

Kika’s gaze didn’t leave her. “It is to me.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. Kika’s voice was too soft, too warm, and it made her feel like she was standing in the middle of the sun.

Kika shifted the bag on her shoulder, glancing over her own. “I have to go,” she said, almost apologetically. “I’ve got a muscle massage now. But we should maybe... have a little book club, yeah?”

Y/n blinked, thrown off for a second. “Book club?”

Kika smiled, amused at her confusion.

“Yeah, you read the books in Spanish, I read them in Portuguese. We meet, discuss, and argue about the plot” Her grin was teasing, playful.

Y/n straightened, nodding a little too quickly. “Of course! I love reading.”

Kika’s eyes lit up. “Great! I have a bunch of new ones now, thanks to you.” She tightened her hold on the bag. “See you later!!”

Y/n could only manage a nod, watching Kika disappear down the hallway with a soft bounce in her step, the bag of books swinging lightly against her side.

She turned back around—and immediately regretted it.

Alexia and Pina were casually leaning against the wall like they hadn’t been blatantly eavesdropping the whole time.

Their faces mirrored the same suspicious curiosity.

“You love reading?” Alexia asked slowly, arms crossed, one brow arching high. “Are you kidding me?”

Pina, chimed in. “You love reading? You?”

Y/n flushed instantly, her whole body heating up.

“Yes!’ she barked defensively. “I love reading! You just never see me doing it.”

Alexia snorted.

“Mhm. Funny, because I distinctly remember me and Olga begging you to finish your book assignments back in school. And even then, you barely read them.” She smirked.

“...And then we found out you were dyslexic, and everything made sense.”

Y/n’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. She crossed her arms, scowling. “Alexia, can you keep it quiet, please?”

Pina was grinning like a devil now. “Honestly, I’ve never seen you with a book. You might as well be illiterate in my eyes.”

Y/n let out a dramatic groan, dragging a hand down her face.

“I can read, okay? I just don’t... like being forced to read. It's different when you pick the books yourself.”

Alexia patted her shoulder patronizingly. “Sure, nena. Whatever you say.”

Y/n grumbled under her breath.

But despite all her grumbling, Y/n couldn’t wipe the small, stubborn smile off her face.

Because Kika had smiled at her like she meant something. Because for once, Y/n had gotten it right.

..

Y/n had wanted to go home. She had done her physio, she had been a good patient, she had checked off every stupid box.

She had absolutely no reason to still be at the training centre.

And yet, here she was—sitting stiffly on the cold, uncomfortable bench that lined the side of the training field, watching everyone else run drills under the afternoon sun.

Apparently, according to Alexia, this was “part of the recovery process.” Something about “staying mentally engaged,” or “keeping the team connection,” or whatever motivational quote Alexia had dug up that morning.

Personally, Y/n thought it was just another creative punishment.

A last little last jab from Alexia for hiding her injury all those weeks ago.

Because honestly, how was sitting on a hard bench, watching everyone do exactly what you wanted to be doing but couldn’t, supposed to help with healing?

Y/n huffed and shifted her weight for the hundredth time, glaring at the field.

Across the grass, she spotted Alexia jogging toward a passing drill. Of course, she's the one who made me stay, Y/n thought darkly. Probably getting some secret joy out of this.

Every pass, every sprint, every whistle blow made her chest tighten from frustration.

Frustration that her body couldn’t do what it was supposed to.

Frustration that her mind was stuck running at full speed while her body lagged behind.

The physio said just a few more days, but it felt like ages away.

Her eyes drifted to the other side of the field, where Kika was paired with Jana.

They were working on some disarming drill—practising quick reactions, body positioning, and full-on physical shoves.

Y/n narrowed her eyes.

It wasn’t even a soft touch....it was a full, aggressive push, enough to make Kika stumble back a few steps before catching herself, laughing bright and breathless.

Y/n crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her glare practically burning holes through the field.

She wanted to be the one doing that drill with Kika. 

She wanted to be the one grabbing her arms, steadying her, laughing when they lost their balance together.

Not because she had feelings, of course.

No, no. Definitely not.

She scoffed under her breath and slumped lower into the bench, tugging her hoodie tighter around her. It was just... affection. 

Like, friendly affection. That’s all it was.

Totally normal. Totally not romantic at all.

She was just being a good teammate. A supportive friend.

Y/n let out a slow breath, slumping further into the uncomfortable bench. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, shoulders drawn up in frustration. 

It wasn’t like she didn’t know what jealousy felt like. She did. She had felt it before—over different girls, in different moments.

It had always been sharp and annoying, something she could eventually shake off with enough distractions.

But none of those girls had been like Kika.

None of them had smiled at her the way Kika did. None of them had made her chest ache with something she didn’t even know how to name.

Maybe that was what made this so much worse.

It was strange hearing Kika laugh that hard, seeing her grin so easily at Jana, the way her hand lingered during the drills.

Strange and uncomfortable and... irritating.

She tried to look somewhere else, anywhere else, but her eyes kept dragging back to them.

Y/n knew it wasn’t fair to feel this way. Jana wasn't doing anything wrong.

She didn’t know.

It wasn’t like Y/n had ever actually told her how she felt.

Damn, not even Y/n knew how she felt.  How could Jana know she was stepping over a line Y/n had never even admitted existed?

With a frustrated sigh, Y/n turned her head sharply, pretending to be interested in the goalkeeping drills at the far end of the pitch.

She wasn’t going to think about it anymore. She wasn’t...

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and despite herself, she glanced back.

Jana was looking at her, one eyebrow raised, a curious little smile playing on her lips.

It wasn’t smug or teasing. It was almost... questioning.

Like Jana was trying to piece something together, but hadn’t quite found the answer or the question.

Y/n stiffened, forcing her face into a scowl, but it was too late. 

Jana had seen something.

And from the way her smile turned a little softer, a little more knowing, Y/n knew it was only a matter of time before she asked.

With a huff, Y/n pushed herself off the uncomfortable bench, her legs stiff from sitting for so long.

She didn’t even look at Alexia or Pina as she made her way toward the edge of the field, her footsteps quick and sharp.

I can’t do this, she thought, her head buzzing with all the tension she’d been holding in.

She was done with sitting here, watching everyone else do exactly what she wanted to be doing. If she stayed any longer, she was going to snap.

Instead, she walked briskly toward the car park, ignoring the feeling of her muscles protesting with each step. 

She was done with being surrounded by people who had their lives moving forward while she felt like she was stuck in place.

Reaching the car, she slung her bag over her shoulder, pushing open the door to the backseat of Alexia’s car.

She slid in, her back hitting the seat with a soft thud. It was quiet here.

Peaceful.

She let her head fall back against the headrest, eyes closing as she finally let out a deep breath.

But for now, all she wanted was a little bit of space, a little bit of quiet before everything inevitably went back to normal.

Normal…

She couldn’t even remember what that felt like.

Thirty minutes later, Y/n sat up, rubbing at her temples, as the driver’s door swung open.

“Where the hell have you been?” Alexia demanded the moment she slid in beside Y/n, voice sharp.

“I looked for you everywhere. Jana said she saw you leave the bench, so I went to the locker room—didn’t find you there. Then I checked physio—no one remembered seeing you today. What the hell, nena?”

Y/n's lips pressed into a thin line. 

“You didn’t tell me you were in the car,” Alexia said again. “I didn’t know where you had gone.”

Alexia’s eyes narrowed, but the moment she caught sight of Y/n’s face—drawn, pale, and utterly exhausted—her anger evaporated. She softened, exhaling in a low breath.

“Hm, you okay, cariño?” she asked, tilting her head.

Y/n swallowed, her usual grumpy armour faltering. “Yeah,” she managed, voice small.

“Want to talk about it?” Alexia prompted gently, one hand lingering on the steering wheel.

“No,” Y/n said firmly, though her shoulders sagged. “Not right now.”

Alexia nodded once, eyes warm. “Alright,” she said quietly.

For a few beats, the car was filled only with the hum of the engine. Then Alexia reached across the centre console and pressed play on the stereo. A familiar melody—Y/n’s favourite song—filled the small space.

Y/n glanced over, surprise flickering in her eyes. Alexia offered a small, encouraging smile. Neither spoke again. Instead, they let the music weave comfort around them as the car rolled out of the parking lot and headed home.

..

Y/n’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She stared at the screen like it might detonate.

Kika.

Her chest tightened instantly. She launched herself face-first into her pillow and let out a muffled shriek that probably echoed down the block.

With a death grip on the pillow, she thrashed around on the bed, limbs flailing, the comforter slipping to the floor.

Two full minutes of pillow-screaming later, Y/n sat bolt upright.

She began pacing tight, frantic circles across her room, grabbing her phone—only to toss it onto the bed again.

“Stop stepping so hard!” Olga’s voice came through the closed door. A beat later, the door creaked open, and Olga leaned in, brow raised. “Cariño, your screaming is echoing in the living room. Please.”

Y/n didn’t respond. Olga sighed and gently closed the door again.

She flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. T

hen she yanked the phone back to her face.

Kika: So… which book shall we start with?

Y/n’s heart pounded.

She tapped on the message, her eyes fixed on the blinking cursor in the reply box. 

And then she did the only thing she could.

She buried her face in the pillow and screamed.... again—this time until her voice gave out into a pathetic, wheezing squeak.

The door opened once more.

Olga stood there, arms crossed, unamused. “We can still hear that.”

“Sorry, Olga,” Y/n croaked, voice muffled into the pillow.

Y/n flipped onto her back, phone dangling above her. 

She scrambled to her elbows and finally opened the message again.

Her thumb shook so badly she ended up tapping Kika’s name, opening the conversation, and immediately deleting it.

By the third try, she managed to type: You pick! Then she paused, rereading it. Too short? Her thumb hovered. Too bossy? 

She flopped onto her side, swiped whichever one speaks to you into the box, and—before she could overthink it—hit Send.

Her phone buzzed almost instantly:

Kika: Perfect! Let’s begin with A Sibila, in Spanish is La sibila?? I guess

Y/n’s eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped.

“Oh god,” she whispered. “This is really happening, I’m gonna have to read the books and not sound like I just know hot to kick a fucking ball around.”

She sat up, threw off the covers, and did what came naturally: she launched into a full-blown pep talk

“Okay, Y/n. You can do this. It’s just a book. You read books. Except… you’ve never read this book. But it’s not like you have to understand every word, right? You can Google as you go–no one will know—just… breathe.”

..

Y/n had kept her promise—sort of. She’d made a conscious effort to hang out with the girls more, even if her social battery sputtered after a couple of hours.

So when Jana invited her over for a casual games night, she showed up without complaint, snacks in hand and everyhthing.

Now, sprawled across Vicky’s living room floor with a half-eaten bag of chips nearby and a deck of cards in her lap,

Y/n was starting to relax. They were on their fifth round of War.

Y/n watched her friends—Vicky with her trademark cocky grin, Salma shuffling her deck with precise fingers, Jana leaning forward, eyes alight with strategy.

At first, Y/n thought their sideways glances and secret smiles were part of some elaborate plot to overthrow her continent, Asia. 

Salma’s brow would lift, then Vicky’s lip would twitch, and Jana would give a tiny knowing nod.

All three of them were acting like generals planning some sort of operation, so she shrugged it off and focused on her cards.

But then Vicky’s voice cut through the shuffle of plastic and laughter.

“So… how’s Laura doing?” she asked, her tone was clinical—almost too calm.

Y/n stiffened. And then there was silence.

“Laura?” Y/n said, blinking at Vicky as if the name had nothing to do with her. “You mean… my ex, Laura?”

Vicky pursed her lips. “Yes,” she said flatly.

Y/n’s cheeks flushed.

“Hmmm, I—I don’t know. I hope… not too well?” She forced a laugh, glancing at Salma and Jana for help, but they were expressionless, eyes fixed on their hands.

The game continued in tense silence until Salma finally broke it. She watched Y/n with an intensity that made Y/n’s chest tighten.

“And how do you feel after Laura?”

The room grew impossibly quiet.

Even the TV’s murmur in the background seemed to fade.

Y/n’s heart pounded. 

“What—why are you asking me this?” she blurted, voice sharper than she’d intended.

“You were there when I found out she cheated on me, so obviously I only feel really, really bad things for her.

They traded another round of looks...calculated and unsettling.

Jana tapped her cards thoughtfully.

Vicky’s grin had vanished.

Salma folded her hands in her lap.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at the three of them, who were now exchanging more looks like they had just unlocked some sort of secret code between just the three of them.

She shuffled her cards aimlessly, trying to focus on anything except the fact that she was being interrogated.

Vicky, sensing an opening, leaned forward, her grin sly.

“We just want to know about your love life,” she said, her tone innocent enough, but Y/n could see the mischief in her eyes. 

Jana, not missing a beat, chimed in.

“Yeah, you know all about ours. We’ve shared everything with you.” Her gaze was curious, almost too curious.

Y/n deadpanned, turning to face her friends with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh, really?” Y/n let out a small, sarcastic laugh.

“Vicky’s been single forever. Literally never dated anyone. You, Jana, got cheated on, and now she's dating the girl she cheated on you with...

Y/n glanced over at Salma, who looked equally unbothered, her cards neatly stacked.

“...And you, Salma, are way too private, never tell us anything. You’re worse than me–so tell me how is that you share everything with me.”

Salma shot her a look, half-amused, half-defensive.

“I’m just not dramatic about my life,” she said, the smallest hint of a smirk on her lips. “But you’re right, I never really tell you guys anything.”

Vicky laughed, nudging Salma with her shoulder.

“Yeah… Y/n’ right, you’re basically a vault.”

“But this is not the point!” Jana said, putting her cards to the side. “Tonight is not about Salma, it’s about you.”

“Me?” Y/n said, “Why me?”

“Come on, Y/n, just tell us! We’re your friends,” Vicky prodded, still grinning.

“We care. You’re just a little…” Vicky trailed off, making an exaggerated circle with her hand. “...you are a mystery.”

“Okay, what's going on with you three? Why the sudden obsession with me?” Y/n crossed her arms, squinting her eyes “I don’t have anything to say.”

Vicky’s eyes gleamed with mischief. She leaned forward, her grin widening as she finally pounced.

“Oh, you don’t have anything to say? Well, what about this little book date you’ve got with Kika, huh?”

Y/n froze, her eyes wide. What the hell?

Vicky was practically bouncing with excitement.

“Pina overheard Kika talking to you another day, so she told Jana, who told us!” she finished with a triumphant grin.

Jana and Salma exchanged panicked looks.

“Vicky!” they both hissed, their voices suddenly much quieter. “We were supposed to be subtle!”

Y/n blinked, still frozen in disbelief, her face burning. 

“A date? We’re reading books together, not—” She stumbled over her words, trying to recover. “—not like that. It’s just... a book club thing. Nothing serious.”

Jana’s eyes lit up.

“Great! If it’s nothing serious, maybe I’ll join you too.” She reached for her phone. “Let me text Kika right now—”

Before she could tap the screen, Y/n’s hand shot out, snatching Jana’s phone as if it were a grenade.

“Stop it,” she hissed, her cheeks flaming.

The three of them sat very still for a heartbeat, then erupted into triumphant grins, as if they’d just won the championship.

Salma was the first to speak. “You like her.”

Vicky nodded emphatically. “It’s so obvious. How did I not notice?”

Jana leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “I had my doubts, but I wasn’t sure… until now. You like her.”

Y/n stabbed at the pile of cards in front of her, stuffing them back into the deck with more force than necessary.

“I don’t want to play War anymore,” she snapped, pushing to her feet.

“Come on, Y/n, don’t be like that,” Vicky called after her, voice half-laughing, half-concerned.

But Y/n was already backing away toward the doorway, the tension coiled tight in her chest. 

She lifted a hand without looking back.

“Later,” she muttered and vanished down the hallway, leaving her friends blinking at each other in satisfied solidarity.

Y/n walked briskly toward the house, her footsteps echoing in the quiet street.

Her mind was racing, too fast for her to even catch one thought before the next one overtook it.

 Why is it so uncomfortable to like someone? She wanted to scream at the sky, but she knew that would only draw confused stares from the few people lingering outside their apartments at this hour.

Y/n clenched her jaw, willing herself not to break into a run.

She wasn’t planning on confessing her feelings to Kika anytime soon. But just knowing that her friends knew—that they had figured it out without her even saying it out loud—was enough to make her stomach twist into knots.

Why is it so embarrassing? She could practically feel the heat of her own face.

Y/n had barely even processed her feelings, and now it was out there for everyone to see. 

She had been too obvious, hadn’t she? She should have kept her distance, should have kept things just friendly.

Her steps faltered as the doubt crept in.

The thought gnawed at her...did Kika know? Did she see how Y/n could barely look her in the eye without her heart racing? 

Y/n stopped on the corner of the street, her pulse pounding in her ears as she stood there, frozen in the moment. 

She took a shaky breath, trying to shake off the feeling of being trapped in her own thoughts.

She couldn’t keep doing this. She had to stop running in circles.

But all she could do was picture Kika’s smile, the way she had looked at Y/n earlier, so soft and genuine.

And that only made it worse. 

If she was honest with herself—if she wasn’t running away from everything she was feeling—she could admit that it was terrifying.

But maybe it was also kind of... nice?

Y/n sucked in a breath and continued walking, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to her like a heavy weight. 

She had no idea what was going to happen next or how to handle it. All she knew was that, at this moment, nothing felt as simple as it used to.

Everything was tangled up in emotions she wasn’t sure how to untangle.

Y/n’s key rattled in the lock before she even realised she’d reached the front door.

She stepped inside and froze.

Alexia and Olga were curled up on the living room sofa, blankets pooled around them.

They had fallen asleep mid-cuddle, Olga’s head resting on Alexia’s shoulder, and Alexia’s arm draped protectively across her back.

The scene was so peaceful, so intimate, that for a moment Y/n felt like an intruder.

“Cariño?” Olga stirred, blinking blearily as she registered Y/n’s presence. “Hi...thought you would be longer at Jana’s.”

Y/n’s stomach fluttered.

She stomped forward, the heel of her good foot thumping against the floor.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she snapped, her voice sharper than she’d intended.

Alexia sat up with a soft growl, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around Olga. 

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” Alexia warned, her tone firm until she saw the confusion on Y/n’s face.

Alexia exchanged a worried glance with Olga, then patted the empty spot beside her on the sofa.

“Come here,” Alexia said gently. “Sit with us for a moment.”

Y/n hesitated, as though unsure she belonged, but exhaustion finally won out. 

She sank onto the edge of the sofa, curling her arms around herself. The blanket warmed her legs, and for a heartbeat, she just closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, Alexia was watching her—really watching her—with that soft, concerned expression Y/n had come to count on. 

In that quiet, amber-lit room, Alexia saw Y/n not as the confident defender tearing up the training pitch, nor as the frustrated kid hiding in the hallway, but as a lone, and vulnerable girl.

Almost like a very scary cat, unwilling to fully let her guard down.

The weight of everything was still pressing on Y/n's chest, but the quiet in the room made her feel... safe. 

Still, there was a lingering tension she couldn’t shake. Her head spun with confusion, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out.

Olga’s warm hand rested on her knee, and she turned her head, offering a gentle, understanding smile.

“It’s okay, cariño,” she said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat dry. 

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, embarrassment flooding her as she turned her face away, trying to hide the flicker of discomfort.

“I’m confused,” she admitted, her voice quiet, almost lost in the silence.

Alexia raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp but gentle. “With what?”

Y/n’s face flushed a little more, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. She didn’t want to look at either of them, not now.

Instead, she leaned her head carefully onto Olga’s shoulder, looking at the TV but not really seeing it.

She let the soft, rhythmic hum of the room fill the space, trying to quiet her thoughts.

“Feelings,” Y/n muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched between them, and though Y/n had tried to bury her feelings, she knew Alexia wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

She could feel Alexia’s eyes on her.

Alexia’s voice was quiet, almost tentative as she spoke, but there was no missing the curiosity laced with understanding.

“What type of feelings, Y/n?” she asked, her tone soft but persistent.

Y/n stiffened, her mind racing. She had expected Alexia to push, but not like this. 

She opened her mouth to deflect, but the words caught in her throat. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck again.

Why was it so hard to talk about this? 

Alexia just waited.

After a few moments, when Y/n didn’t respond, Alexia leaned in slightly, her gaze searching her face.

“Romantic feelings?” Alexia asked carefully, as if testing the waters.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t planned on saying it out loud—hadn’t even planned on admitting it to herself—but Alexia’s gentle probing made the truth slip out.

She nodded, ever so slowly, her eyes still trained on the TV.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “The worst type.”

Alexia’s expression softened, the corners of her lips twitching slightly, not quite a smile but something close to it.

“It’s not the worst,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. 

Y/n’s brows shot up.

“They’re the worst when you don’t have any control over them,” she burst out, her voice unsteady. “When you can’t make them stop.”

“You can’t control every single aspect of your life, nena,” she said quietly. “And that’s okay.”

Y/n’s chin lifted defiantly. “Yes, you can,” she insisted. “You control everything.”

Alexia shook her head, the motion slow and deliberate. “No, I don’t,” she admitted. “I just pretend I do, or else I would–” Her voice cracked on the last word. “…freak out.”

At that moment, Olga cleared her throat. 

“You two are such control freaks,” she teased, sliding an arm around Alexia’s shoulders and squeezing before turning to Y/n. “You analyse everything: your training, your plays, your feelings… Feelings aren’t here to be managed or utilised....they just are. You feel them, let them be messy, and move on.”

Y/n frowned, the crease between her brows deepening. “You don’t make any sense, Olga,” she muttered, folding her arms.

Olga rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair. 

“You’ll see,” she said breezily, “someday you might even thank me for it.” She rested her head against Alexia’s. “Until then, stop trying to plan the unplannable.”

Y/n opened her mouth, ready to argue, but no words came. S

he blinked at Olga, then at Alexia’s calm, encouraging gaze.

For the first time in hours, she wasn’t sure what to say—and somehow, that felt… okay.

..

a/n: if you read this far — first of all, ily. second of all, feel free to let me know what you thought! i love hearing your reactions, fav lines, or just general thoughts 🫶 it really makes my day <3

a/n: I hope it wasn't too obvious that i have never played war in my whole life.

Tag list: @edensbreeze, @silentwolfsstuff , @goodloe-e, @mccabeskcc, @blaugranafairy, @footy-lover264, @the-fandom-ness

[cherriicou]

thinking about jealous!lee chan who would make you ride him as punishment for catching other guys attention..

‘you can do better than that,’ chan drawls, hitting your ass harshly with one hand, the other placed nicely on his abs. lee chan was being so fucking mean, way different than his usual polite self.

‘mm trying,’ is all you can let out as you try to bounce yourself harder on top of him. pretty eyes watering and your thighs are burning from how long you’ve been fucking yourself on him :<

when it came to sex, chan always made sure you were pleased first. whether it was using his fingers or mouth, you were his top priority! but right now, all he could think about was how his ‘friend’ looked at you when you came to drop him off lunch.

it pissed him off. he watched as you left cutely in your dress, hips swaying while you waved goodbye to everyone. he noticed that guy giving extra attention to your ass, smiling at you and even daring to touch your arm before wishing you a nice day.

that’s when he went straight home after work, ready to have you put on a show from him. ‘channie, please.’ you weren’t even allowed to touch him, which made this whole situation so much more sufferable.

he tsks his tongue, shaking his head as he tries his best to not let out any embarrassing noises from how tight your cunt was strangling him.

he knew he was being an asshole— he was so turned on at the sight of your legs trembling. your pretty pussy leaking down his cock so perfectly, drenching him so fucking good.

‘do you really need my help, slut?’ he groans, finally placing his hands on your hips for the first time tonight. all you could do is nod frantically, too fucked out to even let out words. a small smirk lands on his face, looking up at your adorable pout as you continued to let out cute noises and ride.

you were so perfect for him, he knew that. despite that man's dirty thoughts, he knows you would only have eyes for him. but he just needed some reassurance, have you boost his ego a bit.

so that's why he hardens his grip on your hips, turns you around to land on your back and helps you out <3 his cock was now at a different angle inside you, making both of you moan. 'let's see if you regret it,' is the last thing you hear from after completely ramming himself in you, hitting that spot that drives you and him nuts.

'a-ah,' you're a blabbering mess :< chan hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, going deeper til he's literally abusing your cervix. his grunts are only making you hornier, helping you take all that he's doing to you. your body is so sore, but you love it.

'fucking take it, god,' chan grunts, his hands going from your hips to your neck. he is enjoying this way too much that you can feel his cock throbbing with every tear that drips down your ruined face.

lee chan needed to prove a point.

a/n; haiii still in finals hell week, so here is another imagine of dino bc he's been on my mind lately... but after may, i will continue on with the older bf! svt series! promise :3 i do check my anon messages and have been writing whenever i can.. i just want them to perf so i wanna proof read before posting lol like this one is not proofread haha don't mind the mistakes