#besides mateo

[gloomylesbian]

here's my (controversial) saw character ranking sorry not sorry

[pinene]

I'm kinda good on gay relationships in progressive tv shows just being like. Exactly heterosexual relationships but with two men. I need more codependent bros who fuck like crazy and would kill for each other lol

[urpaperboy]

I’ve been like spamming my socials with this dude for his birthday, now I will here !! It’s technically Noah’s birthday today so woo :))

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

one of these days we will start posting more about our ocs. one of these days…

[flowerywoso]

the babysitter || irene paredes x reader

Summary: You've had a thing for Irene ever since you started babysitting for her. When she comes home after a night out with the team, you realize that your feelings might not be as one-sided as you thought they were. Pairing: Irene Paredes x Reader Words: 3,992 Warnings: 🔞, smut with plot Notes: I haven't written anything in quite awhile (I honestly wasn't planning on writing ever again but here we are), so this might be a little rough! Please don't hesitate to let me know (politely, please!) if you notice any horrible grammatical errors or notes to myself that I somehow forgot to take out. Do not post my works on Ao3. And I am horrible at titles.

You peek your head into the room once more, carefully easing the door open and, just as quickly, shut, once you determine that the toddler is definitely still asleep. It’s a habit you adopted after your friends began to have their own children, and one you’ve maintained for the kids you babysit. Tiptoeing back down the hallway, making sure to keep your footfalls as quiet as you can, you plop back down on the sofa, settling into the corner and taking a sip of your sparkling water, grabbing your novel and flipping it back open as you wait for the boy’s mother to return home.

It’s not that much later, only long enough for you to finish a single chapter of your book, before you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing Irene’s return from the Barcelona squad’s night out. You don’t get up from the couch, merely setting your novel aside and uncrossing your legs, letting one dangle off the cushions.

She enters the room quietly, the low heels she’d left the apartment in abandoned on the mat by the front door so they don’t click on the wood floors, and when you look up you can see the flush on her face. You're not sure if it's the result of the chilly evening air or of her night out, but either way it's enough to make you swallow around a lump in your throat. The top and pants she'd left the house in are just as enticing now as they were several hours ago, and you wonder as she walks further into the apartment how you manage to stay sane around her.

“Hola,” she says quietly, setting her purse down in the center of the coffee table and taking a seat beside you on the sofa, sighing in relief as she relaxes into the cushions after a long night out. Your heart, as it so often does in the presence of the older woman, skips a beat as she comes nearer to you.

“How was everything?”

“All good,” you reply, beginning to recount your evening with Mateo. As always, the toddler had been easy, listening to you as well as one could expect a two-year-old to, and had fallen asleep on the sofa halfway through an episode of Bluey, only stirring briefly when you carried him to bed.

“He ate most of his dinner,” you relay with a smile, shaking your head at the memory of how the toddler had wrinkled his nose at the "yucky green" you'd provided for him, far more enthusiastic about the special treat that was the chicken nuggets unearthed from the freezer. “We had a bit of a struggle with the veggies, but other than that he was a perfect angel, like always.”

Your words bring a smile to the older woman’s face, and you can’t help but stop in your tracks for a moment, transfixed by the way her lips perk upwards, faint lines around her eyes becoming visible. You’ve seen her take an extra minute in the bathroom more than once after you arrive in the evenings, trying to conceal the bags beneath her eyes or the smile lines beginning to form at the corners, but you think that each and every part of her face is a work of art. 

You had no idea, when you first started babysitting for her, just how quickly your feelings for the older woman would grow. In the stolen moments at the beginning and end of the nights, before one of you walks out the door, you've learned more and more about Irene Paredes the person, not just the footballer, and something about her kept drawing you further and further in. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but you knew that you wanted her.

“Did you have a good night?”

Irene shrugs, shaking her head with a fond smile as she tells you about the Barcelona squad’s night out. She had mostly stayed on the sidelines alongside the other older players, keeping an eye on the girls closer to your own age as they enjoyed themselves, but Pina and Cata had managed to coax her and Alexia into having a drink and dance before she had excused herself.

The thought of Irene on the dance floor makes your heart pound, imagination beginning to run wild.

You’ve never been to Manuela’s, but from the way you’ve heard Irene describe it, there's absolutely no shortage of beautiful women. You know from the bits of information she’s given you that the Barcelona girls normally stick with one another, even while they’re out, but you’ve never been able to help yourself from wondering if any of the beautiful girls who frequent the club have tempted her enough that she’s taken one of them to her bed.

It's that thought, the unpleasant idea of her tangled between the sheets with a nameless, faceless girl from the club that makes your chest hurt. Before you fully notice what you're doing, you open your mouth and begin to speak, some jumbled mixture of thoughts spilling from between your traitorous lips.

"I mean if... If you ever wanted to stay out later... If someone..."

You trail off, clamping your lips shut as you realize just how inappropriate what you're implying is. You cringe, cursing yourself as you watch for her reaction, wait for her to get up off the couch and hand you your bags, let you know that now might be a good time for you to go home.

But she doesn't. Instead, all the older woman does is fix you with a questioning gaze, seemingly losing herself in thought for a moment.

She’s seated closer to you than she normally would be, than she ever has been before, and for a moment you wonder if she can hear your heart as it pounds in your chest, speeding up as she enters your space. You aren’t sure if it’s your imagination, the way her eyes seem to have fixed on you, tracing the details of your flushing face, eyes following your bottom lip as you nervously run your teeth over it.

“No,” she says at last. “None of the girls there have ever been who I wanted.”

Something about the word there catches your attention as it leaves her mouth, and you're certain that you must be losing your mind. Because there's no way, no way in the world that she wants you the way you want her.

The older woman reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve stopped breathing. Her hand pauses by your left cheek, which you're absolutely certain is flushing redder than the cap on her cherry flavored chapstick.

And suddenly, before you can even fully process the fact that her soft but strong hands are cupping your scarlet cheeks, the older woman is leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours.

You must have imagined this moment a thousand times, but never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it would actually come true. The older woman’s mouth is soft but insistent against your own, exploring your lips with hers, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had is a distant memory as you move with her, kissing her back.

Kissing Irene is even better than you imagined it would be - and you could fill a planner with the amount of times you’ve imagined this exact scenario. Her mouth is gentle, but there’s an edge to her kiss that contains a promise, the knowledge that she’s capable of being anything but.

When your lips finally part, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, you let out a little gasp, pupils blown wide as Irene stares into your eyes, both of you trying to process what has just happened. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, Irene seems just as shocked as you are. But, behind her wide eyes is the same feeling you know she can easily spot in your own.

Desire.

“I… Fuck.”

You’re the one who leans forward this time, lips pressing against the older woman’s, the faint flavor of alcohol on her lips mixed with a hint of cherry from the chapstick you’ve seen her spread across her mouth more than once. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, and you can feel it going straight between your legs.

This kiss is deeper than the first, your arms wrapping around her strong shoulders to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against your own. You part momentarily, gasping for air and only managing a brief breath before she’s kissing you again, every movement raising the stakes. You whine as her lips meet yours once more, hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. The older woman uses her own lips to pry yours open, her claiming tongue slipping into your mouth and beginning to explore further.

You let her take control of the kiss without protest, the arousal between your thighs intensifying exponentially with every second her body spends this close to your own. 

“Fuck,” she gasps, breaking away from your lips only long enough to grunt in your ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”

All you can do is nod, shaking your head up and down in agreement, because you don’t think you’ve ever wanted another person this badly in your entire life. 

“Irene,” you whine, pressing impossibly closer to her. “Please.” 

“Can I touch you?”

You’re nodding again before the question has even fully left her lips, and the older woman’s pupils go dark with how eager she is for you. She kisses you again, her football player’s strength showing as she pushes you backward onto the sofa, hands working their way up under your shirt. She doesn’t bother with the clasp of your bra, instead slipping her hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts. Separating her lips from yours with a low groan, Irene immediately begins tracing a path over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a further wave of shivers up and down your spine. You moan quietly, remembering that you two aren’t alone in the apartment, but tilt your head anyway, granting her better access to your throat.

Advantage is rapidly taken, the Barcelona player letting a hint of teeth scrape across the delicate flesh of your throat as she rolls one of your nipples between her fingers, moaning quietly at the way you arch, pressing your chest further into her touch. 

Your nipples aren’t normally this sensitive, but something about the way Irene rolls and tugs at them makes the two buds feel as if they’re direct links to your most sensitive spot. Her touch is magical, and all you want is more.

As if the older woman can read your mind, the hand not busy exploring your chest slides further down, slipping under your black leggings and making you gasp, bringing a hand up to muffle your own sounds as long fingers begin to rub at your pussy over your panties. 

There’s far too much fabric between the two of you, and every thread feels like a cage. You need it off, need the last bits of separation between your heat and her touch gone, now. 

“Off,” Irene commands and, needing the barrier gone just as badly as you do, she doesn’t wait for you to obey before she’s hooking her own fingers in the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down over your legs. Your panties are removed in the same motion, both pieces of fabric coming to rest at your ankles. You try to kick them fully off, but only manage to completely free one leg before the older woman is pushing her way between your thighs, eagerly beginning to explore your bare pussy.

Her experience is clear from the first touch of her slender fingers against your naked heat, and you can’t help but press closer, spreading your legs further to give her better access. The older woman draws in a sharp breath as she circles your clit gently with one finger, exploring, watching for your reactions, the others gathering the rapidly accumulating wetness at your entrance. Irene's touch is electric, and the older woman finds herself becoming rapidly obsessed with the way your clit seems to plead for her touch.

With two of her fingers, Irene traces the outline of your pussy, hyper aware of just how wet you are, how your hole is begging silently for her fingers inside as she continues to rub your clit.

You let your eyes fall shut, eagerly anticipating just how good it will feel when the fingers you can sense lingering just shy of your entrance finally slide home, burying themselves inside your welcoming cunt. You’re practically pulsing with it, with how badly you need her inside, need to know just how she’ll fill you, what previously unknown spots inside the tips of her long fingers will be able to brush.

“Where do you want my fingers, bebita?” 

You whine, shifting your hips in an attempt to get even closer to her, to get her to slide her fingers into your throbbing heat. The digits, wet from your own slick, only withdraw further away from your needy hole, and you nearly sob with how badly you need the older woman, need her touch. 

Obvious as it may be, this nonverbal expression of how desperate you are for her to take you isn’t enough to satisfy the older woman, and she rubs your inner thigh soothingly. 

“Use your words, baby,” she coaxes. “Tell me where you need my fingers.”

The idea of using your words seems borderline impossible at the moment, your brain simply too overwhelmed with the reality of just how close her fingers are to slipping inside, but you can tell that you won’t get what you need until you do.

“My pussy,” you manage to whine, trying to stay as quiet as possible while pulsing with the need for her. “Please, Irene, I need your fingers in my cunt.”

Your words, base and simple as they are, are enough to get you what you need, and when Irene finally slides her fingers home, you can’t conceal the moan that tears its way free from your throat. You’re wet enough that the stretch of going from zero to two fingers inside your cunt brings nothing but pleasure, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud when you feel the ridges of her fingers settle against your walls, the older woman pausing for a moment to let you adjust to the feeling of her digits inside.

Irene has to swallow a wrecked noise of her own as she finally slides her fingers inside your soaking pussy, the sensation of your silky walls against her skin sending her brain into overdrive. The sound of your voice, desperation tinging your whispers as you plead for her to move, to fuck you, is absolute music to her ears, and she doesn’t hesitate to comply with the enticing request. 

Her pace is slow at first as she starts to move, the older woman eagerly exploring every curve and contour of your cunt, leaking around her fingers. It’s so warm and inviting, and the older woman has no idea how she’s lasted this long without knowing what feel like inside.

Once she’s sure you’ve fully adjusted to the stretch of her digits inside of you, Irene speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers in search of the most sensitive spots hidden inside your pretty cunt. 

It’s clear when she finds what she’s looking for, because your cunt clenches down around her fingers and you squeeze your pretty eyes shut as pleasure rocks your body. 

“Oh,” she says, voice a whisper that tickles your ear and makes you shudder happily. “Is that where you need me?”

You nod desperately, the entirety of your reality reduced to the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive tissue inside you, stroking it insistently as her thumb comes to brush against your swollen clit. As she fucks you with her fingers, the older woman tests out different motions on your bud with her thumb, searching for the pattern and pace to take what’s left of your breath away. 

You can’t help but let out a cry as she presses a little harder, circling your needy clit at just the right angle. Irene quickly presses her lips to yours again, reminding you that you’re not alone in the apartment.

“Shh,” the older woman says, swallowing your noises with her own tongue, collecting each one. “You’ve still gotta be quiet for me, bebita.”

You nod in understanding, kissing her back desperately, bringing a hand up to tangle in her hair. You can be quiet, no matter how good it feels, you can be quiet, just so long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing between your legs. Irene chuckles against your lips, redoubling her efforts between your legs. Her talented fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, each time hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips right beside your ear. “That’s it, take it for me. Take it, just like that.”

You toss your head back, more than willing to comply. Every cell of your body feels like it’s on fire, and you want nothing more than for the burning to consume you completely. 

Your orgasm arrives without warning, Irene’s thumb on your swollen clit combined with her talented fingers inside your cunt sending you crashing over the edge with a fury you haven’t felt in a long time. You have to bite down on your lip to keep in your sounds as your it overwhelms you, nails digging into Irene’s bare shoulders. You can feel the older woman’s smile as she kisses your neck, fingers still moving gently inside you, working you through your climax, helping you ride it for as long as you can.

You shudder, aftershocks still shaking your body as you begin to come down from your peak. She slides her fingers out and you bite down on your kiss-swollen lip to keep yourself from whining at the loss. It takes another minute before you're able to gather yourself, fully opening your eyes and taking in the sight of the gorgeous older woman above you.

Irene presses another kiss to your lips, this one gentle, and you can feel the smile on her face as you give a final shudder, sitting up and leaning into her.

"How was that, bebita?"

"Fucking perfect," you reply, unable to conceal a grin of your own as you note how flushed her face still is. Knowing that touching you has her seemingly almost as worked up as you are sends a thrill through your body and you reach for the button of her jeans, aiming to return the favor, only for the same pair of hands that had just brought you to such an incredible orgasm to push yours down, Irene’s lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she says, and you feel your heart sink with sudden disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

Irene wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, clearly oblivious to the way your shoulders sink. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

You blush, wanting to protest that getting to touch her would be just about the furthest thing away from a worry- dream or fantasy come to life would be a more accurate description- but a sudden wave of shyness overcomes you, the whiplash of going from the high of your orgasm to the valley of being denied an opportunity to make Irene feel as good as she’s just made you feel making your throat close up.

“O-Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay. I just…”

You trail off, not sure what to say to that. It feels like, without meaning to or realizing what she’s done, the Barcelona defender has just tossed a bucket of ice water over you.

“I… I guess I should head home then,” you say quietly, trying not to let her hear the hurt in your voice, reaching down and pulling your leggings back up over your calves and thighs until they rest around your middle. Your panties aren’t quite soaked, for the pure fact that they had been around your ankles soon after her lips first met yours, but they’re still wet enough that putting them back on isn’t exactly comfortable. 

And more than that, you don’t want to leave. Your body is still purring with the aftermath of your orgasm, the last thing you want to do right now is leave her apartment and walk the few blocks home to your own. The route between your apartment and Irene’s is one you know well, lit with plenty of streetlamps and well-frequented on a Saturday night, so any anxiety you might feel can be connected purely to leaving her after what’s just happened, without being certain where you stand. 

Irene opens her mouth and you pause with your hand on the knob, waiting, hoping that she’ll say something, offer her bed to share for the night. 

“Let me know when you get home safe,” she says quietly, and you can’t help the way your chest clenches with a strange sort of pain. You hadn’t really expected her to offer for you to stay, not with the amount of eyes that could be watching someone like her at any given moment, but you still can’t help but wish she had.

You nod in response to her question, clutching your bag close to your side as you shut the door behind yourself, beginning the short walk home.

...

“Fuck.”

The second the door shuts behind you, the defender wishes she could throw it open again and call you back in.

She had wanted to, especially after watching you come apart under her touch, seeing how pretty you looked as your orgasm overwhelmed you. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but you had beaten her to it, reaching for the door handle and exiling yourself before she could even offer, and she hadn’t offered any protests. 

Peeking in the door, ensuring that Mateo is still safe and sound in his bed, the Barcelona player tiptoes quietly down the hall, two doors down, and pushes her own door open and shut behind her.

As she pulls off her top, letting it fall to the floor, quickly followed by her pants and bra, Irene curses herself, pulling back the covers and slipping into the too-big bed on her own. It feels cold compared to the contrast of your warm body against her own, and her chest pangs with the regret of not asking you to stay the night. 

Back in your own apartment, you slide beneath your own covers, mind racing at a million miles an hour.

No matter how your chest might ache at the fact that you’re here, alone in your own bed, the memory of the older woman’s lips on yours, of her talented fingers bringing you to orgasm right there on the sofa, of muffling your moans in her shoulder, still sends a familiar jolt of electricity between your thighs. With a soft whine, you reach for your the bedside drawer where you keep your vibrator, turning it up before pressing it against your still-swollen clit.

Blocks away, Irene is doing the same, quietly gasping out a much-needed orgasm with your name on her lips, the memory of your mouth on hers and your silken flesh beneath her fingertips sending her over the edge.

As the older woman drifts off into an uneasy slumber, the space beside her conspicuously empty, she knows that, now she's had you once, she won't ever be able to get enough.

[woso-story]

Alexia's Soft Side

Alexia Putellas x Reader

It was a quiet Sunday morning, and the soft hum of Barcelona's streets filtered through the open windows of your shared apartment. You were in the kitchen, brewing coffee, when Alexia’s phone buzzed on the counter. She was still in bed, relishing the rare chance to sleep in, so you glanced at the screen. A text from Irene lit up:

You smiled, already picturing Alexia with Irene’s baby boy. There was something magical about watching her with kids, a side of her so tender and unguarded that it never failed to take your breath away. You quickly typed out a reply, knowing Alexia wouldn’t mind.

"Any chance you two could babysit Mateo today? Just for a few hours. We have some errands to run."

By the time Irene arrived with Mateo a couple of hours later, Alexia was awake and lounging on the couch in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She sprang to her feet as soon as Irene walked in, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the baby.

"Of course. Bring him over whenever."

"Hola, Mateo!" Alexia cooed, reaching out to take him from Irene. Mateo, all round cheeks and wide, curious eyes, gurgled happily as Alexia held him close.

Irene handed over a diaper bag and gave you both a quick rundown of his schedule. "He’s been teething, so he might get a bit fussy," she warned, though Mateo seemed perfectly content in Alexia’s arms, grabbing at her hair with tiny fists.

"No problem," Alexia said, her voice softer than usual. She kissed the top of Mateo’s head, and your heart gave a little flutter.

After Irene left, the three of you settled into a relaxed rhythm. Mateo crawled around the living room, exploring everything within reach while Alexia stayed close, ready to catch him if he got too adventurous. You watched from the couch, sipping your coffee and marveling at how natural she looked.

"Look at him go," Alexia said, laughing as Mateo attempted to climb over her leg. She caught him gently, lifting him into the air, and Mateo let out a delighted squeal.

"You’re good at this," you said, setting your coffee down and joining them on the floor.

Alexia glanced at you, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "It’s easy with him. He’s so... uncomplicated," she said, her voice tinged with affection.

You watched as she held Mateo close, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek. It was rare to see her like this—completely at ease, her usual intensity replaced by something softer. Alexia was always so focused, so serious about her responsibilities, whether it was on the pitch or in her personal life. But with Mateo, all of that melted away. She was playful, relaxed, and undeniably sweet.

---

When Mateo started to get fussy, Alexia took him into the kitchen to prepare a bottle. You followed, leaning against the counter as you watched her work. She held the baby in one arm while using her free hand to warm the milk, her movements precise yet gentle.

"You’re a multitasking pro," you teased.

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head. "You have to be with kids, no?"

Once Mateo had his bottle, he settled down again, his tiny fingers clutching Alexia’s hoodie as he drank. She sat on the couch with him cradled in her arms, her eyes fixed on his face with an expression so tender it made your chest ache.

"You’d make an amazing mom someday," you said softly, sitting down beside her.

Alexia looked at you, her lips curving into a small smile. "You think so?"

"I know so," you replied. "Look at you. He’s completely at ease with you. And the way you look at him..." You trailed off, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Alexia’s expression grew thoughtful. "I’ve always wondered about that, you know," she admitted. "If I could balance it all—the career, the responsibilities... a family."

"You could," you said firmly. "You’re the most capable person I know. And when the time comes, you’ll figure it out, like you always do."

She leaned over, resting her forehead against yours. "You’d be part of that family, right?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course," you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions in your chest.

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur of simple, joyful moments. Mateo fell asleep in Alexia’s arms while you read a book aloud to her, the soft rhythm of your voice filling the room. When Irene came to pick him up, she took one look at Mateo’s peaceful face and smiled.

"You two are naturals," she said.

After Irene left, Alexia wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close. "You were amazing with him too, you know," she said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You think so?" you asked, leaning into her warmth.

"I know so," she replied, echoing your earlier words.

And as you curled up together on the couch, the apartment quiet once more, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d gotten a glimpse of a beautiful future—a life where the two of you weren’t just partners, but a family.

[starkwlkr]

Hiii!well maybe mateo is a mommy boy and he don't wanna share his mum with his dad

what’s mine is mine | charles leclerc

i love ruby but i’m always down to write for mathéo <3

Charles never thought he would have to compete for the love of his life with his own son. Sure, it was all playful and pretend, but the little four year old boy thought it was real. It all started when the Leclerc family was out for lunch in sunny Monaco. Y/n had Mathéo in her arms feeding him small piece of pasta while Ruby ate hers next to Charles.

“Papa, I can’t finish this.” Ruby frowned, pushing her plate towards Charles.

“It’s okay, amour, you want more?” Charles asked. But Y/n was too busy giving Mathéo kisses. The one year old boy laughed as his mother tickled his sides. “I’ve been replaced.” He joked.

Y/n looked at Charles. “You’re both my boys. Right, Théo?”

Mathéo shook his head. “You’re my maman. Mine.”

“Hey, buddy, I got her first.” Charles poked Mathéo’s stomach which made the boy try to swat his father’s hand away.

“Mine.” Mathéo said, grabbing one of Y/n’s arms and wrapping it around him.

Charles scoffed. “Unbelievable. My son, my own son! Betrayed by my own son, what’s next? Is he stealing my Ferrari seat?”

“Yes, Fred told me.” Ruby answered from beside Charles. “If Théo drives for Ferrari, does that mean you retire?” She asked Charles.

“Théo is a baby and babies can’t drive.” Charles said to Ruby.

“They can, but Théo doesn’t want to.” Ruby stated and began to eat her pasta once again.

“I thought you said you couldn’t eat pasta anymore?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Charles knew it was almost impossible to win an argument against Ruby so he let the girl continue eating her pasta. “I’m still not done with you, mister.” He pointed a finger at his son.

Mathéo then snuggled up to Y/n and smiled innocently at his father, knowing it drove him crazy. Y/n found it amusing. Charles had Ruby, who was the worlds biggest daddy’s girl so it only made sense for Mathéo to be a huge mommy’s boy.

“It’s like he’s doing it on purpose now!” Charles told Y/n.

“He’s just a baby, Charles. Let it go.” Y/n grabbed Charles’ hand and pressed a light kiss on the back of it, but Mathéo was quick to move Charles’ hand away.

“Fine, from now on you can deal with your maman’s whining when she can’t sleep at night or when she’s grumpy in the morning or when she can’t find anything to wear or-”

“Looks like Théo is going to be sleeping in maman’s bed and papa is going to be sleeping on the couch.” Y/n teased.

“Papa can sleep on my bed!” Ruby said excitedly.

“Did you know papa snores?”

“Never mind, the couch looks comfy, papa.”

[gothcsz]

part seven of the neighbors series. oh jeez, we are back at it again with another heart wrenching part to this building series. don't ask me where in the timeline this lands because i don't even know—all i do know is that this one hurt me a little more than the others 🖤 as always, thank you to the beautiful anon who sent in this prompt. i love love love creating this with you all 🖤

javier peña x f!reader. ~2k word count. again, nothing too extreme to tag!

“Guess who won dos entradas al cine?” (two tickets to the movie theatre) you sing-song as you approach Javier, a pair of ticket vouchers held triumphantly in your hand and a wide grin lighting up your face. 

Javier looks up from where he’s seated on the edge of the courtyard fountain, the familiar ember of a cigarette glowing between his lips. He narrows his eyes behind his tinted aviators, giving you that signature blend of teasing skepticism. “Who’d you have to flash to get those?” 

You roll your eyes and drop onto the fountain beside him, the cool stone beneath you a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day. “I am offended that you think I’d flash someone for movie tickets.” You cross your legs as you say it, the move shifting the hem of your work dress just high enough to reveal the soft curve of your thighs beneath sheer stockings.

Javier’s gaze dips immediately, a slow drag of his eyes over your legs before his tongue sweeps across his lower lip.

He knows he should stop. Should keep his admiration of you in check. But he can’t. You’re too pretty to not gawk over.

You’re oblivious, like you always are, as you hold the tickets up again, completely lost in your own excitement. “We had this silly competition in the office, and these bad boys were up for grabs.” Your voice is bright and animated, and it’s all he can do not to focus entirely on how alive you look when you’re happy.  

A plume of smoke curls into the air as he exhales, buying himself time. “So, what movie are you gonna go see?” 

You falter for a moment, your confidence dimming ever so slightly as you hesitate. Your teeth catch your lower lip in a nervous habit he’s seen a dozen times and never fails to find endearing, and you glance at him from under your lashes.

That look alone could kill him.

“I’m not sure… actually,” you admit, your voice softening as you toy with the edge of the tickets. The question sits on the tip of your tongue, uncertain.

Is it a good idea to ask him? It’s been weeks since the two of you had a moment to really do anything outside of these stolen midday chats or rushed exchanges in the hallways.

You miss the ease that used to exist between you, but what if he doesn’t feel the same? 

After Javier’s little episode in your apartment during your date, things seem to have settled into a steady, almost predictable rhythm. You’d thought about asking Mateo to join you for this outing, but he’s away on some business trip for the next two weeks.

Things between you two are fine—casual, a few small dates here and there, nothing to write home about. It’s enough to keep your head above water, to keep romantic daydreams about the handsome DEA agent next door from completely taking over. 

You haven’t heard much from Javier’s side of the wall lately either. No muffled moans or the rhythmic creak of his bed frame emphasizing his nocturnal activities.

Out of sight, out of mind, you tell yourself. If you don’t hear him entertaining half of Bogotá, your feelings for him can stay dormant, tucked neatly into the recesses of your heart.

So, you figure it’s harmless to ask him to go to the theater with you this weekend. Friends catch movies together all the time, right? Besides, his life is unpredictable—he could get called into some crisis at a moment’s notice. No pressure.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me,” you ask, your voice soft but hopeful. “We can pick the movie when we get there.”

The way you ask, with that shy, almost hesitant charm, makes Javier’s heart do a ridiculous flip. He has to school his expression, keep his face neutral so he doesn’t show just how much your offer delights him. His instinct to tease nearly ruins the moment, though—he’s this close to asking about your little banker boyfriend. 

But instead, he soaks in the fact that it’s him you’re asking, not Mateo.

Whatever the reason, the thought of spending an evening with you—even if it’s just watching a movie—makes him feel like a giddy teenager, like the crush he’s been nursing forever has finally acknowledged him.  

“Makin’ time for me in that busy schedule of yours? I’m flattered, cariño. That sounds like a good time. I’m in,” he replies, taking a slow drag of his cigarette to mask the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You light up instantly, a bright smile spreading across your face. “Tú eres el que siempre está ocupado,” (You're the one who is always busy) you tease, testing the waters with your Spanish.

He huffs a quiet laugh, his dark eyes glinting with approval. “Tienes razón,” (You're right) he concedes, tipping his head in acknowledgment. “You’re gettin’ better and better. Pretty soon, you’re gonna be speakin’ better than me.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, and you can’t help the nervous giggle that slips out. “Highly doubt that, but thank you. How does Friday night sound? Meet me in the hallway at six?”

Javier tilts his head, feigning confusion as his brows knit together. “Lo siento, no hablo inglés, ¿puedes repetirlo?” (I'm sorry, I don't speak English. Could you repeat that?)

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as you pause to get your words right. “Encuéntrame en el pasillo a las seis el viernes,” (Meet me in the hallway at six on Friday) you say carefully, hoping you nailed the grammar.

His lips curve into a proud smile, his mustache twitching as he nods in approval. “Te veré allí. Good job, cariño.” (I'll see you there)

It’s almost eight when you knock on Javier’s door, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you wait.

Maybe he got tied up with work—God knows his job has a way of swallowing him whole.

Or maybe it just slipped his mind, which wouldn’t surprise you either; he does have a lot on his plate these days. 

Still, you’d been looking forward to this little outing, putting a little extra effort into your outfit, remembering all the little things that had happened to you during the week to share with him so he could get a good laugh out of them.

You wait a moment longer, but there’s no answer. A small pout tugs at your lips, disappointment sinking in. You tell yourself you saw this coming. It’s Javier, after all—unpredictable, chaotic Javier. You shouldn’t take it personally. 

But the tiny sting of hurt manages to land on that sore spot in your chest with his name tattooed over it. 

It’s okay, you think, pushing the feeling down. You’ll just reschedule. No big deal. It’s not like you don’t have other things to do—there’s that crossword book you picked up earlier to practice writing your Spanish. A quiet evening in doesn’t sound so bad. You’ll catch him later, maybe tease him for standing you up. 

You’ve barely turned the knob on your apartment door when the sound of laughter fills the air—a warm, familiar chuckle that makes your heart leap.

You freeze, turning toward the sound, your excitement flaring to life at the prospect of your plans not being canceled after all.

But the flicker of hope is short-lived. 

The door to the building swings open, and there he is, an arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a stunning woman. She’s tall, effortlessly beautiful with her curly brown hair, her laughter lilting as his lips graze her neck.

Your stomach drops.  

So he hadn’t forgotten because of work. He’d just�� forgotten about you. Or chosen not to remember. The realization sears through you, twisting in your chest.

You feel rooted in place, unable to look away as your mind scrambles to catch up. 

Then his eyes find yours.  

The world seems to grind to a halt. Everything else fades—the woman on his arm, the noise of the building, even the ache in your chest.

All that exists is the intensity of his gaze locked with yours. His flirty, careless smile vanishes, replaced by something you can’t quite name. Guilt? Regret?  

It doesn’t matter.  

You wrench yourself away, slipping into your apartment before he can say anything. The door closes with a soft click, and you sag against it, chest heaving as you fight to steady your breath. Your eyes sting, but you refuse to let the tears fall.  

It’s not just that he stood you up. That’s not what makes the embarrassment swell in your throat. It’s that you’d been excited to spend time with him.

That you put in effort to your appearance, that you saved specific topics to discuss solely with him.

You’d allowed yourself to believe that your friendship mattered as much to him as it does to you.

But now, standing here with your heart feeling scraped raw, you’re starting to see it for what it is: your friendship only exists when it’s convenient for him. When there’s no one else in his bed, when he’s not risking his life in the streets.  

You bite down hard on your lip, willing the tears to stay put. You won’t cry for him. Not tonight. Not again.

Like clockwork, three steady knocks land against the door, each one reverberating through your back as you stay pressed against it. You don’t move, your hands curled into fists at your sides.

Should you answer? Or let him stand out there, forgotten as easily as he forgot you?

Your jaw tightens, anger sparking to life in your chest. It tempts you to yank the door open and unleash every ounce of frustration, to scream at him until your voice gives out, until he feels the intensity of all the feelings he stirs inside you.  

But you don’t.  

Instead, you straighten your posture, brushing away the stubborn tears that slipped past your defenses. You take a steadying breath, clearing your throat before finally opening the door.  

“Hola, Javier,” you greet, your tone clipped and flat.  

There he stands, every bit the picture of remorse. His brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, and his hands are shoved in his pockets like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “Cariño, I’m so sorry,” he starts, his voice low and rushed. “I got hung up at the office, then had to go out and vet some leads we got—”  

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “It happens.”  

He flinches at your tone, guilt etched across his face. It’s written in the way his shoulders slump, the way his mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right thing to say. He knows he screwed up. Knows he let you down.  

The truth? He had forgotten. At first, it was the chaos of his job pulling him in a dozen directions, then following up on a tip from Helena.

But when they met at their usual spot, the drinks came easily—too easily. Her attention had been familiar, her touch comforting, and one thing led to another, as it always did with her. He hadn’t thought about anything else until he walked into the building and saw you.  

Until your wide, hurt eyes locked onto his and knocked the breath right out of him.  

“I’m free all day tomorrow,” he says now. “We can reschedule. I’ll even take you out to dinner to make it up to you.”  

There’s something so damn sincere in the way he looks at you, the way his tone drips with regret, that for a split second, you almost cave. Almost.  

But then you remember what’ll happen as soon as he leaves. He’ll go back to his apartment and you’ll have to hear him fuck her.

“No, Javier. Don’t worry about it,” you say firmly, each word clear with resolve. “I’ve got a busy weekend.” It’s a lie, but it feels necessary, a barrier to protect what little dignity you have left.

“Have fun vetting your lead.” You let the words hit their mark.

His expression falters, and you see the exact moment the weight of them sinks in, his lips parting as if to respond, to defend himself, to say something. But you don’t give him the chance.

With a steady hand, you close the door in his face.

The soft click of the latch is louder than it should be, final and resolute. You lean against the wood, staring blankly ahead as the quiet settles around you.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, the fiery ache of anger and something sharper—betrayal—coiling in your chest.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @samanthajonees . @yellowbrickyeti . @bambisweethearts . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[growthhyp]

The Garage Sale I

Jack, a towering figure of masculine power, his straight, tall body sculpted by rigorous bodybuilding routines. He stands confidently in a pair of skin-tight black shorts, showcasing his muscular physique. Above the waist, he dons a vibrant black tank top, the material stretching tautly across his broad chest and bulging biceps, emphasizing his strength. His attire is completed with a pair of white sneakers, the laces tightly bound to mirror the snug fit of his clothing. A silver necklace with a gothic cross rests against his collarbone, reflecting the sun's glow. In his right hand, he holds a cardboard sign that reads "Jack' Closet Sale" in bold, hand-drawn letters. Behind him looms an ancient-looking house with ivy climbing up the walls, hinting at a long lineage of secrets and mystical heritage. The setting is a quaint neighborhood with well-maintained lawns, adding a whimsical contrast to Jack's dominant presence. A sense of intrigue is cast over the scene as we realize that Jack, the owner of the house, hails from a lineage of witches. The vibrant garments displayed on a rack beside Jack suggest an eclectic taste that blends with the enigmatic aura of the house's history. The array of tight-fitting shirts, leather jackets, and dark pants speak to Jack's edgy, magical style. The sun shines brightly, casting sharp shadows that play across Jack's defined abs and the various fabrics of the clothes for sale, while a gentle breeze whispers through the air, stirring the leaves of a nearby tree. The scene is alive with a palpable energy, the juxtaposition of Jack's alpha demeanor and the whimsical, mysterious backdrop of the house inviting passersby to explore the secrets and treasures hidden within the garments. Little did the buyers know, these garments contains magic which the buyers will know once they tried to wear them.

A tender moment between two skinny young men, Anthony and Tony, whose love for each other is unmistakable. They stand in an intimate embrace, their bodies intertwined in a way that speaks of deep connection and comfort. The light from the sun casts a warm, soft glow upon their faces, highlighting the love in their eyes and the gentle smile that plays on their lips. Both are dressed casually yet stylishly, with Tony in a fitted t-shirt that emphasizes his lean frame and Mateo in a button-up shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing his slender neck. The contrast of their dark and light hair, Tony's in a short, spiky style and Mateo's in loose waves, adds a visual interest to their embrace. Their slender arms are wrapped around each other, and their long fingers are interlocked in a delicate yet strong grip.

As they walk, their eyes are drawn to the unusual spectacle of the garage sale. They see Jack, a colossal figure, his muscles rippling like waves of power beneath his clothes. The sight of him is so unexpected in this serene neighborhood that it feels like a mirage, a sudden jolt of the extraordinary amidst the ordinary. His biceps bulge in a way that seems almost supernatural, and the vibrancy of his black tank top draws their gaze like a beacon. The two lovers exchange a look of wonder, their curiosity piqued by the stark contrast between the seller and the delicate garments he's peddling. They whisper to each other, their voices low and filled with excitement, as they contemplate the story behind this mysterious man and his enigmatic wares.

They approach the rack of clothes, their eyes scanning over the fabrics, colors, and styles. The wind picks up, carrying with it the faint scent of incense, hinting at the arcane nature of the garments. The shirts and jackets seem to whisper secrets to them, promising an adventure beyond their wildest dreams. And then, as if by fate, Anthony's hand brushes against a piece of white spandex. His eyes widen in amazement as he tugs it out, revealing its form-fitting shape and sheen.

"Hey, Tony," Anthony says, his voice thick with excitement, "Check this out."

Tony looks over and sees the white spandex in Anthony's hand. His eyes light up with understanding, knowing the allure it holds for his partner. He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, really?"

Jack, noticing their interest, steps closer. "That's a fine piece of clothing," he says, his deep voice resonating with a hint of amusement. "It's one of my favorites. It's got a bit of a… stretch to it."

Anthony blushes, the heat rising in his cheeks as he holds up the white spandex. "How much for this?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jack, with a knowing smile, says, "That'll be twenty bucks. It's a special piece, one of a kind."

Anthony nods, his heart racing as he hands over the cash. The transaction feels charged with more than just money changing hands; it's as if he's purchasing a ticket to a new world of pleasure and power dynamics. Tony takes the spandex from Jack, holding it up to his own body with a playful smirk.

"I'll wear it for you tonight," he says, his voice low and seductive, sending a thrill through both of them. The fabric seems to glow with promise, stretching tautly between Tony's fingers.

===

The sun dips below the horizon, and the neighborhood grows quiet. The only sounds are the distant laughter of children and the occasional car passing by. Inside the house, the curtains are drawn, and the lights are dimmed, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere. The air is filled with the scent of their dinner, a romantic meal they've prepared together.

Anthony lies on the bed, his skin pale and almost translucent against the white sheets. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his anticipation building as he imagines Tony wearing the white spandex. He runs his fingers over his own flat stomach, tracing the lines of his ribs and the contours of his lean frame. The black briefs he wears cling to his hips, showcasing the excitement of what's to come.

The sound of the shower running fills the house, the water pounding against the tiles echoing through the walls like a heartbeat. Tony stands in the steamy bathroom, lathering his slender body with soap. He's lost in thought, a smug smile playing on his lips as he visualizes the evening's events unfolding. He runs the bar of soap along his flat chest, his hands gliding over his flat stomach and down his narrow waist. The warm water cascades over him, highlighting his skinny body and the sharp angles of his bones.

As the shower comes to an end, Tony steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing the white spandex from the counter. He slides it over his legs, the fabric clinging to his skin with surprising ease. Despite being a bit large, it seems to hug him in all the right places, showcasing his toned thighs and the outline of his manhood. He pulls it up over his hips, feeling a strange heat radiating through his body. The spandex fits snugly around his waist, the elastic digging in slightly, as if the garment itself is alive and eager to become one with him.

Walking into the bedroom, Tony lets the towel drop to the floor. The sight of him in the spandex sends a jolt through Anthony, his eyes widening with desire. "Damn, Tony, that looks… incredible on you," he murmurs, his voice husky with arousal. The room seems to pulse with energy as Tony struts towards the bed, the spandex accentuating every step.

"You look… amazing," breathes out Anthony, his voice thick with desire. The compliment hangs in the air, a palpable force that makes Tony's confidence swell. He knows he's not the most muscular or the most traditionally attractive man, but in this moment, he feels like a Greek god.

Tony approaches the bed with a predatory grace that's new to him, the white spandex shimmering with an otherworldly glow. The fabric seems to pulsate with every step he takes, the room's shadows dancing along with his movements. The scent of their dinner has been replaced by the intoxicating aroma of pheromones and excitement.

Tony, feeling an unusual surge of horniness from the magical spandex's influence, Tony leans in and captures Anthony's mouth in a passionate kiss. The suddenness of it takes his breath away, but he eagerly returns the favor, their tongues dancing together as if they've been waiting for this moment forever. The spandex seems to pulse with energy, the material seeming to tighten around Tony's body, fueling his desire.

The kiss is demanding, almost aggressive, as Tony's hands move to grip the sides of the headboard. He pulls himself closer to his lover, his lean body pressing against the firmness of the bed. The fabric of the spandex whispers against their skin, a seductive sound that seems to echo their passionate intentions. The room feels electrified, the air thick with the scent of lust and the promise of something more.

Anthony, feeling the sudden change in Tony's demeanor, gasps as his partner's hands begin to roam over his body, the touch growing more insistent, more powerful. Tony's grip on the headboard tightens to pin down his lover, his fingers digging into the wooden frame.

With a fiery hunger in his eyes, Tony reaches down and frees his cock from the confines of the spandex. It stands tall and proud, the veins pulsing with a magical vigor that matches the rhythm of his racing heart. He lines it up with Anthony's quivering hole, the tip of his erection glistening with pre-cum. The room seems to hold its breath as the two men lock eyes, the tension palpable as they hover on the brink of something incredible.

Anthony feels Tony's hardness press against him. He moans, the sound deep and needy, his own cock responding in kind. The anticipation is exquisite, a delicious ache that makes him squirm with pleasure.

As Tony's hips begin to move, his cock sliding along the cleft of Anthony's ass, the spandex seems to come alive, the material tightening and releasing with each thrust. The sensation is unlike anything Tony has ever experienced, the fabric almost seeming to breathe with him, to move in sync with his body.

With a growl, Tony's hand comes down on Anthony's plump, round cheek, the sound echoing through the room. The slap resonates with power, leaving a red handprint that seems to glow against the pale skin. The shock of pain sends a jolt through both of them, but instead of recoiling, it only seems to heighten their arousal. The spandex stretches and clings to Tony's body, the fabric moving with him like a living thing, as if it's urging him on, feeding off the energy of their desire.

Tony's cock feels like it's swelling, growing larger and more substantial with every thrust. He's never felt anything like this before.

Anthony gasps as Tony's hand squeezes his hip, his fingers digging into the flesh. The spandex around Tony's waist is stretching, the fabric straining against his suddenly growing frame. His abs are becoming more defined, the lines between each one deepening and becoming more pronounced. His chest is expanding, the muscles swelling.

The transformation is subtle at first, but it's as if the very essence of the magical garment is seeping into Tony's skin, reconfiguring him into something more than human. His arm, the one holding onto the headboard, bulges with newfound strength, the veins popping out as if they're about to burst through the skin. His shoulder widens, the muscles growing taut and powerful.

Anthony feels it, too, the bed shaking beneath them as Tony's body changes. He watches in awe as Tony's back, once a canvas of lean muscles and smooth skin, begins to expand, each vertebrae becoming more pronounced, the muscles swelling and rippling with every thrust, tracing the contours of his newfound power.

The white spandex, stretches and morphs with Tony's legs, bulging with each flex and release of his newfound muscularity. The fabric clings to his calves and thighs like a second skin, the material seemingly alive and responsive to his every movement. Each pump of his legs is now a display of unbridled strength, the spandex tightening around his quads as they bulge and release like pistons.

Anthony's eyes are wide with a mix of fear and excitement, watching as Tony's body continues to change. The man he loves is becoming something else, something more powerful and primal. The spandex, once a mere piece of clothing, now seems to be the vessel for an ancient power, molding Tony into a creature of pure, sexuality. Tony's hips rock into him with an intensity that's almost violent, the fabric of the spandex whispering with each powerful thrust, the sound sending shivers down their spines.

As Tony's body changes, so does his mind. Images of female beauty flood his thoughts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, he feels a strange arousal thinking of a young woman appearing in his mind. Her breasts bounce slightly with each step she takes, and he feels his cock throb with a hunger that's foreign to him. The spandex seems to pulse with a dark energy, feeding on his confusion and amplifying his desires.

The room seems to spin around them, the air thick with the scent of magic and the heady aroma of lust. Tony's eyes glaze over, no longer focused on the man beneath him but on the phantom female figures that dance in his mind's eye. He can almost feel the softness of breasts, the wetness of a pussy, the heat of a woman's embrace. His hips continue to thrust, driven by the power of the magic within the spandex, his body moving almost involuntarily as he chases the illusions in his thoughts.

With a final, powerful thrust, Tony's body goes rigid, and he roars out his climax, his cock pulsing with the power of the magical spandex. The fabric seems to glow brighter, the aura surrounding it pulsating with every spurt of cum. The intensity of the moment overwhelms them both, and their orgasms crash together like waves upon the shore, leaving them gasping and trembling in the aftermath.

Exhausted by the sheer power of their lovemaking, their bodies entwined in a mess of sweat and passion, they slowly come down from their peak. The room returns to a gentle stillness, the only sound their heavy breathing and the distant whispers of the night.

Tony lies there, his body now a monument to power and desire, the spandex clinging to him like a second skin. His newfound muscles, bulging and defined, cast strange shadows on the wall as he catches his breath. The fabric whispers as it settles against him, seemingly satisfied with the transformation it has wrought. His mind swims with the images of feminine beauty that have taken over his thoughts, a stark contrast to the man he's always been.

Anthony sleeps soundly, oblivious to the turmoil within his partner. His slender body, so fragile in comparison to the new titan beside him, rises and falls with each breath he takes. The soft curve of his hip is a gentle reminder of the love they've shared, a stark contrast to the newfound aggression and power that now courses through Tony's veins.

[the-offside-rule]

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Jealousy Jealousy

Requested: yes

Prompt: Pablo is jealous

Warnings: none

It had been over a year since Y/N and Pablo welcomed their baby boy, Mateo, into the world. Their home was filled with baby giggles, toys scattered across the floor, and the soft coos of a toddler who had become more and more attached to his mother. Mateo was, without a doubt, a mama’s boy. The bond between Y/N and Mateo was unmistakable; he followed her around like a little shadow, arms always reaching out to be held whenever she tried to slip away for even a moment. It had been endearing at first, watching how close they were. But lately, Pablo was starting to feel the weight of it.

As Y/N walked into the living room, carrying Mateo on her hip, Pablo lounged on the couch, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed his son clinging to her yet again. His brow furrowed in mild frustration. "Isn’t he tired of hanging off you all day?" Pablo muttered, crossing his arms as he shifted to face them. Y/N chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Mateo’s face. "What’s wrong?" she teased, glancing over at Pablo with a grin. "Are you jealous of your baby, Pablo?" Pablo huffed, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. "No, of course not." But the way he avoided her gaze told a different story.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh a little as she made her way over to the couch, sitting down beside him. Mateo, ever the clingy little boy, squirmed in her arms to settle more comfortably, resting his head on her shoulder. He had been fussy all day, needing constant attention from her, and it was beginning to wear on Pablo’s patience. "Come on, Pablo-" She said, affectionately running her fingers through his hair. "It’s cute, isn’t it? How much he loves his mamá?"

Pablo’s lips twitched as he glanced down at Mateo’s sleepy face before turning back to her. "Yeah, it’s cute." He admitted reluctantly, his voice tinged with frustration. "But it’s just... I barely get any time with you anymore. He’s always in the middle. Whenever we try to do anything, it’s like we’re never alone." Y/N’s teasing smile softened as she looked at him, seeing the weariness behind his words. She understood where he was coming from. Between caring for a one-year-old and balancing everything else, finding time for just the two of them had been a challenge. Mateo, as sweet as he was, had become a little too attached, making it hard to have any real moments of privacy.

"Okay, okay." She said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I get it. You miss me." She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "But you do know how ridiculous it sounds, right? Being jealous of your own son?" Pablo groaned, tilting his head back against the couch, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "I’m not jealous of him." He protested weakly, though the slight pout on his lips gave him away. Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "You so are. It’s adorable, Pablito."

"Don’t patronize me." He grumbled, though there was no real bite in his tone. Shifting Mateo slightly so he was resting more comfortably on her lap, Y/N gently stroked his back as he started to drift off to sleep. The sight of his tiny, peaceful face made her heart swell. "You know what?" She whispered, turning her attention back to Pablo. "Once he’s asleep, maybe we can have some alone time. I’ll put him in his crib, and we can just have some....alone time. Sound good?" Pablo’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, his lips curving into a genuine smile for the first time in days. "Really?"

"Really." She confirmed with a reassuring nod, placing her hand on his arm. "I’m sure we can figure out a way to balance things. Mateo’s just in that clingy phase, but it won’t last forever." Pablo sighed, some of the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked at her. "I know. It’s just... I miss you. The way things were before he was born." Y/N’s expression softened at his words. "I miss that too." She admitted. "But look at him." She said, nodding toward their sleeping son. "He’s worth it though, right?" A small, fond smile tugged at Pablo’s lips as he looked down at Mateo, his heart swelling with pride and love. "Yeah, he is."

Y/N leaned closer, resting her forehead against Pablo’s, her voice soft and full of affection. "We’ll figure this out together. We always do." Pablo let out a deep breath, his hand gently intertwining with hers. "As long as I get some time with you, I’ll be fine. Even if it means sharing you with him." She smiled, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips, savoring the rare moment of closeness without any interruptions. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. As Mateo dozed peacefully in Y/N’s arms and Pablo held her close, they both knew they were navigating the new rhythms of parenthood together, one step at a time. And in that moment, everything felt just right.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

AM!Fernando Alonso x wife reader. While all the drivers have their annual dj nee together, they have their own diner with the Strolls. Just what I know since him and Lance are not there. Maybe they had kid(s) (you decide) And Lance being their fav uncle. Spending time, banter, sweet. Anything. Thanks!! :))

I’m sorry this is out rather late!! I’m on vacay so hehe

A Night with the Strolls

The annual driver’s DJ night was in full swing, but Fernando had decided to take a different route this year. Instead of joining the usual crowd for the glitzy and glamorous event, he and his wife had a more intimate plan—dinner with the Stroll family. Lance, being a close friend and mentor to Fernando, was like family, and his wife had grown just as fond of him over the years. The kids, their two young children—Mateo, 6, and Isabella, 4—were more than excited to be spending the evening with Uncle Lance.

The evening was filled with laughter and playful banter as the children chased Lance around the house, calling him their personal jungle gym. Lance, with his larger-than-life personality, was their favorite playmate. His laughter was contagious, and they clung to him as though he was the most important person in their world.

“I think I’ve earned the title of ‘Best Uncle’ tonight,” Lance said with a grin, lifting Mateo into the air and giving him an exaggerated spin.

Fernando, watching from the couch with his wife beside him, couldn’t help but smile. “They’ll want you to take them on a road trip next, you know,” he teased, a proud glint in his eyes as his son clung to Lance’s neck.

“Why not? I’ll just kidnap them and take them away for a few days. They’ll love it,” Lance joked, raising both kids high and making airplane sounds.

Fernando’s wife, sitting quietly next to him, couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace as she watched the scene unfold. The laughter of their children, the light-hearted teasing between Lance and Fernando, and the warmth of the Strolls’ family felt like a dream. She had never imagined a life like this. Coming from a broken home, where love had often felt uncertain and fleeting, she never thought she would find herself in the kind of family that Fernando had created. But here she was, surrounded by the kind of warmth and stability she had always longed for.

She turned to Fernando, her heart full. “Look at them,” she said softly, her voice filled with quiet admiration. “They’re so happy. I never thought I would find a family like this.”

Fernando smiled, his gaze never leaving her as he leaned closer. “You gave me everything I never knew I needed. I’m the lucky one.”

As the evening progressed, they shared moments of quiet connection. The kids ran around, laughing and playing, while Fernando and his wife enjoyed the peace and comfort of each other’s company. At one point, Fernando leaned in closer to his wife, his hand finding hers on the table. Their fingers intertwined naturally, as though they had always belonged there.

“Do you ever think about how we ended up here?” Fernando asked, his voice low, almost as if speaking to himself.

She looked at him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think about it all the time,” she replied. “I never imagined I could be this happy, this… whole. When I was younger, love always seemed so fleeting, like something that couldn’t last. But now, with you, it’s different. I feel safe. I feel like I’ve found my home.”

Fernando’s gaze softened as he took a breath, pulling her hand closer to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, a gesture of love so simple yet so profound. “I was lost, you know. In all the glitz and glamor of racing, the fame, the attention… none of it felt real. None of it meant anything until I found you. You made me feel like I finally had a place, a purpose. When I met you, I finally felt like I was home.”

Her heart melted at his words. She had always known he was a passionate and driven man, but hearing him speak so vulnerably touched her in a way that no victory on the racetrack ever could. “You are my home too, Fernando,” she whispered. “You and our children. There’s nowhere else I would rather be.”

The connection between them was palpable, a silent understanding that, despite the world around them, this was their safe space, their place of love and trust. He leaned in then, brushing his lips gently against hers in a kiss that felt like a promise. Soft, tender, yet full of all the love he held for her.

They pulled away, but Fernando’s hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jawline. “You are everything to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I could ever ask for. I will always choose you. Always.”

Her eyes shimmered with love as she gazed at him, feeling the depth of his devotion in every word. “And I will always choose you,” she said, her voice steady but full of affection. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Fernando.”

As the evening wore on, the kids grew tired, and Lance’s playful energy began to wind down. They all gathered around the table, enjoying a quiet meal together. Mateo had managed to convince Lance to tell them a new story, a tale of knights and dragons, and even Isabella, usually quiet during dinner, listened with wide-eyed wonder.

Fernando’s wife watched them, taking in the sight of the Stroll family. Lance, ever the jokester, had always been there for Fernando, and it was clear to her how much Lance admired his friend, not just as a teammate, but as a role model, a father figure.

Fernando had often told her that he had always been close to Lance, but she hadn’t realized just how deep their bond ran. Lance saw Fernando as more than just a colleague. He saw him as a mentor, a guide, someone who had been like a brother to him. When they were younger, Lance had looked up to Fernando—admired his success, his drive, and his unwavering loyalty to those he loved. Over time, that admiration had blossomed into a deep friendship, and now, it was clear that Lance adored Fernando like a father.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, man,” Lance had said more than once. “You’ve taught me more than just racing—you’ve taught me what it means to be a man of integrity, to be a good person.”

Fernando had always brushed it off with a laugh, but deep down, he knew how much Lance’s words meant. He had always tried to be a good role model, not just for his kids, but for the people in his life. And seeing Lance with his children—how the kids gravitated toward him, how he genuinely loved them like they were his own—touched him more than he could ever express.

Later, when the kids had been tucked into bed, and the house was quiet, Fernando and his wife took a moment to sit outside on the patio. The stars above them seemed to twinkle in the soft night sky, and a light breeze stirred the air. Fernando pulled her into his arms, wrapping his jacket around her as she nestled closer.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft and full of love, “I’d like to have another child. A third one. What do you think?”

Her gaze met his, and she felt a mix of love and uncertainty. “I would love that, Fernando, but I’m not sure I can go through it all again. After… everything we’ve been through. I’m scared.”

Fernando’s expression softened as he kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her in a protective embrace. “You don’t have to be scared. Whatever we decide, I’m here with you. And no matter how many children we have, we’ll have everything we need because we have each other. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her heart swelled at his words. She had always known Fernando was a strong man—on the track, in the spotlight, and in their home—but it was moments like this, when his vulnerability shone through, that made her love him even more.

“I love you so much, Fernando,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “You make me feel safe. You make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

His lips brushed against her forehead, a soft kiss that spoke of love, of promises made, and of the beautiful life they had created together. “And I will always love you, mi amor. You are my everything.”

As the night continued, Fernando and his wife held each other close, their hearts full of love, their bond stronger than ever. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their family and the quiet of the night, they both knew that no matter what the future held, as long as they had each other, they were home.

[mavrintarou]

Lord Gojo Satoru [1]

Hi All, hope you all have been well. I'm going through a writer's block for Toru & Mateo. Bear with me. In the meantime, I can distract you with Lord Gojo #hearteyes

Lord Series masterlist

Part two

Warning: angst, violence (TW: description about past physical abuse Y/n suffered through), smut (18+)

.

Lord Gojo Satoru tossed the last scroll into the flame, destroying the evidence of details about the last remaining elder.

Satoru was known as the young Lord who rosed into his high position by diminishing the elders of his clan.

He was now the head of the Gojo clan.

He now reigns over the clan and will rise to make changes to his desires.

. .

“You must consider marriage and make haste to produce an heir, my Lord!”

Rolling his eyes, Satoru looked out the window, ignoring what the clan members he had chosen were saying.

Approaching the age of 27, he knew he could no longer delay marriage and the prospect of producing an heir. His only challenge was that he found none of the recommended ladies to be deserving of a significant role.

The only woman Satoru has ever believed to fit the role of being his wife and the mother of his children was the very one that he could not have. 

Yet.

As soon as she is found, he will bring her back to his kingdom.

“Any news on her?”

They did not need to ask who he meant, everyone knew he was looking for Y/l/n Y/f/n.

Gojo Satoru has sent special men to search for the woman who has occupied his heart, mind, and soul.

The eleven members glanced nervously amongst each other before one finally replied, “no, my Lord. We will continue to keep searching for her.”

.

.

Y/n turned her head towards the breathless maid running towards her. “Yuko, what is the matter?”

The young maid whom Y/n had watched grow up from a little girl stopped in front of her, leaning against her for support as she tried to catch her breath. “Y/n, someone is looking for you!”

Frowning, Y/n asked, “me? Who?”

Yuko shrugged her shoulders, “I was running errands for our Lady when I heard many talk about the new Lord who has announced a reward if anyone knew any information about…” she paused and looked around before whispering, “Y/l/n Y/f/n.”

Y/n was under a new name given to her by her new house, Yui. She has been using the name Yui for six years. Yuko only knew of her birth name by overhearing a conversation between her mother and Y/n.

Yuko pulls out a heavily folded-up piece of paper, handing it to Y/n. “I took this off the pillar.”

Y/n’s eyes widen when it’s a drawing of her.

.

Y/n served her Lady her evening tea. She bowed her head, bidding her Lady a good night but before she could exit her chamber, her name was called.

“Yuko, you may leave but Yui, please stay for a moment. I have something to discuss with you.”

Y/n nodded her head at Yuko, sliding close the door after her.

Lady Komatsu gestured to the spot across from her.

With carefulness, Y/n set her cane down and was about to lower herself onto the cushion on the floor when she was stopped. “Please, have a seat beside me.”

Taking a seat on the soft couch across from her lady, Y/n quietly asked, “what is it, my Lady?”

Lady Komatsu has been nothing but kind to Y/n, taking her in and generously treating her like a family rather than a maid.

“It has brought to my attention that…” she sighs softly, “someone is looking for you.”

She knew of Y/n’s real identity.

Looking up, Y/n inquired, “do you know… who?”

“Lord Gojo Satoru.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, she was sure it was him but a part of her hoped it was not.

“That was the previous family you served, is that correct?”

Nodding her head, “yes, that is correct. He is the young master.”

“Who is now the head of the Gojo clan.”

Y/n’s eyes widen at the news. Satoru couldn’t have become the head of the clan yet, his father and the other elders…

“He is searching for you…” Lady Komatsu raised a brow at her, “my next question is, do you want to be found?” She threaded her fingers together and placed them on her lap. “If you do, I will release you. If you do not… I will turn a blind eye and not know who this Y/l/n Y/f/n is.”

.

Y/n rubs the achiness in her right knee. Even after almost ten years, the pain would linger now and then…

Reminding her of her place.

Reminding her of her status.

That she was merely a maid for the Gojo house and falling in love with the young master Gojo Satoru was forbidden.

Horrific memories came flooding back as she shut her eyes tightly.

Beaten and bruised Satoru stood before her.

He smiled softly at her even with a swollen and broken lip. “Y/n…”

They both knew their love for each other would never flourish with their different statuses.

Y/n has tried many times to cut it off, to destroy their sad and pathetic love.

Her request to be relocated to a different Gojo site was approved. On the day of her relocation, Satoru caused a predicament and enough was enough from his father.

Y/n cried and tried to pull away from the guards as the other guards beat the young master in front of her.

“Heed this warning, Satoru,” his father gripped the chin of his son, “know your place.” He points a finger at the guards holding Y/n down.

It took Y/n by surprise, the next thing she knew, she was writhing in pain on the ground. She gasped loudly, clenching her teeth as she gripped her right leg. Her knee was bent awkwardly, blood began seeping through her kimono.

Satoru screamed Y/n’s name, trying to crawl towards Y/n but a heavy weight held him down by the back of his neck.

With one foot pressing down on his son,  he looks down at his son with cold hard eyes, “this is all your doing, Satoru. Next time,” his tone is icy, “it won’t end with just a broken knee.”

That was the last time they saw each other. Y/n was moved to an unknown location, sold, and served under a different master and family.

It has been six years and she couldn’t deny the knowledge of hearing him search for her after all these years.

But why?

“If you do, I will release you. If you do not… I will turn a blind eye and not know who this Y/l/n Y/f/n is.”

Y/n closed her eyes.

“Can I have some time to think about this?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Of course, think about it.” Lady Komatsu smiled, “I want you to be happy, Y/n.”

Can she truly be happy?

What was Lord Gojo’s motives?

.

Weeks passed and rumors continued that a young Lord was looking for a woman.

Locals have all turned down when being asked because only very few have ever seen Y/n and are aware that she is assigned to the Komatsu house. Maids leaving the compound were restricted and only a few were assigned to be the designated one to run errands outside the compound.

Y/n was serving her lady their afternoon tea when loud commotions were coming from outside.

“I’ll go check,” Y/n assured, setting the kettle down.

She hurried out to the corridor and froze.

Standing no more than twenty feet in front of her is Lord Gojo Satoru.

His eyes trail down to the cane she used for years. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks at Y/n in the eyes once more.

“My… Lord,” she barely whispered against the wind.

He stood before her in a blink of an eye, he closed the last remaining distance between them. His long arms wrapped around her frame, holding her close.

.

“Come with me,” Satoru squeezed her hands firmly, he had not been able to let go of her since he touched her. “Come home with me,” he pleaded softly. He looked across at Lady Komatsu and turned his body. “Please, allow Y/n to leave with me. I will compensate for the time you’ve taken care of –“

Lady Komatsu held a hand up, silencing Satoru. “You will not need to, Lord Gojo.” She looks over at Y/n, who is still looking down at hers and Satoru’s hands. “If Y/n wishes to leave with you, I will release her.”

Y/n lifts her head and at Lady Komatsu, her eyes brimmed with tears. “I do, I want to leave with… Satoru.” She turned her gaze to Satoru’s crystal blue eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks, “I want to go home with you.”

.

Satoru watched as Y/n strolled through the compound she had once called home, a place filled with both beautiful and painful memories. It was where their love had initially blossomed and later suffered.

The place where they last encountered years ago has undergone a beautiful transformation into a flower garden, adoring exclusively with her favorite flowers. He made sure only her favorite flowers bloomed there.

He could not see her face, but he knew the painful memories of that day were replaying in her head. Taking a few strides, Satoru hugged her tightly from behind. His left hand moved to cover her eyes, “I cannot erase that moment from your life, but what I can do and I promise you, I will create new moments to overcome them so that you will never have to fear it anymore.” He felt her tears against his palm and he slowly moved his hand away. “I have planted all your favorite flowers, see how it’s blooming for you… each time it withers at the end of each season and blooms at the beginning of the new season… it is a means of new life and starting over…” Satoru turned her around and tilted her chin upward. “It is a new season, Y/n. Please, start over with me?”

Y/n gazed longingly into his beautiful eyes. She reached up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. She still could not believe that he was in front of her. “Satoru…”

Satoru gazes longingly at Y/n, “let us start again, together, with no one to interfere with our love.” The spark in her eyes turned into pain and sadness. He frowned, “do – do you not want to start again?”

“We are too different, my Lord.”

His light blue eyes darkened. All his life, he had only ever loved Y/n, yet everyone, Y/n including now, always told him they were different. “How? You are a human just like me? Are you not?”

His breath hitched when she pulled away from him, taking a step back. “You know how, my Lord. We are from different statues.” Her head bows, “you know clearly how it will not work for us.”

“Then why did you agree to come home with me?” He gritted through his teeth. He sees her flinch and he takes a step back, releasing a deep breath while running a hand through his hair.

Her sharp inhale before she spoke, “forgive me, my Lord. I was selfish and greedy at that moment and acted without the right mind. If – if you want to send me back I will gladly return.” She bowed.

Satoru closed his eyes and exhaled quietly. He opened his eyes, they were hard and cold, “look at me Y/n.”

She straightened her posture and looked straight ahead, but not at him. He found no light in her eyes like he did before.

A low growl rumbles from his chest before he tugs her swiftly into his embrace, locking his arms tightly around her. He won’t let her go. If he has to chain her by his side for the rest of his life, he will.

“I don’t care about our status. I love you,” he emphasized the three last words. He pulled away abruptly and cupped Y/n’s face to force her to look straight into his eyes, “I love you, Y/n.” His large hands gently tighten around her head, emphasizing his words. “I. Love. You. You, Y/n.” Satoru’s eyes softened and their touch lightened, “I have loved you for a long time and all these years.”

Y/n shut her eyes, tears spilled down her cheeks. “Satoru…” she wept quietly, “can you love someone like me? I am damaged.”

“Nonsense,” he growled, “you are not damaged at all.” Satoru was aware of the societal stigma associated with a woman perceived as ‘damaged’. Society would label her as such because of the limp she now bears.

“I am selfish,” Satoru whispered. “I am the reason why you now bear this limp for the rest of your life and I should do the right thing and let you go,” his fingers brushed her hair behind her ear, “but I cannot.”

“No my Lord – “

“But it is my life and my heart that I will offer to you,” his eyes stared deeply into her soft hazel ones, “I will give you everything I own, everything I possess,” he wiped her tears away, “so please, be with me. Stay with me. You are all I want. What I need to live.” He pressed her palm to his lips, “marry me, be my Lady, Lady Gojo.”

Y/n shut her eyes, tears rolled down her cheeks before she let out a soft sigh. She opened her eyes, and this time, they filled with hope, “you still wish to marry me even though I have no family and dowery to offer to you?”

“Yes. I have everything for us,” his blue eyes twinkle brightly. “You only need me and I only need you.”

She smiled, “yes, I only need you. I would love to marry you, my Lord.”

. .

“What are you doing?”

Y/n froze as she poured water to fill the tub. “I am getting the bath ready?” She answered warily, she wasn’t sure why the head maid was stunned.

Sumiko quickly marched forward and gently took the bucket out of her hands, “my Lady, if Lord Gojo hears about you getting your own bath ready he will fire us all.” With a hand motion, four other maids entered the bathroom and began filling the tub with hot water. “I understand you have done this all your life but starting now, it will be far different. You must let us know and we will prepare it for you.”

Y/n nodded speechless as Sumiko guided her to the living room, “please wait here, my Lady. Give us five more minutes, we will have your bath ready.”

“Of course,” Y/n waited patiently until a voice informed her that her bath was ready.

Y/n was amazed that within five minutes they were able to fill the large tub with water and added essential oil that calmed the air in the room.

Putting her cane aside, she began to undress before entering the tub. Releasing a gentle sigh, she lowered herself further into the water until she was completely submerged.

Emerging slowly above the water’s surface, she gasped at the sight of Satoru standing before her, naked.

She gawked at his toned chisel body before looking away, cheeks reddening. Her arms crossed over her chest. She looked up at him again when he moved to step into the tub, her eyes catching a glimpse of his manhood, semi-erect. “My – my Lord…”

Satoru submerged himself up to his chin and moved towards her until he was in front of her. “Satoru.”

Y/n avoided his eyes, “o – okay…”

His lips curve upward, “say it.”

She looked into his eyes, confused.

“Say my name, Y/n.”

“S – Satoru…”

“Again.”

“Satoru.”

“Again.”

“Satoru. Gojo Satoru.” Y/n growled slightly frustrated at his persistent requests.

Satoru let out a chuckle, “that is all you can call me.”

“Don’t tease me,” she murmured, looking away.

Sitting down, Satoru grabs her legs and puts them on his lap. “But you look so adorable fluttered.” He grabbed her right foot and began massaging it. His grip tightened when she tried to pull away. “Relax, Y/n…”

She bit her lower lip and stopped struggling. “I’m – I’m not used to this…”

“Not used to what?” His thumb pressed into the arch of her foot and smiled when she let out a soft and quiet moan. “Not used to being pampered?”

“Y – yes…” she nodded, “having… things done for me… it is weird, my L – Sa – Satoru…”

A smile tugs the corner of his lips, “well, get used to it my love, you are my queen and you deserve to be treated like one.” His fingers shifted to her ankle and then her calf, and slowly his fingers reached the scar. He heard Y/n’s sharp inhale. “I was stripped away from you, I was weak then and could not protect you…” his thumb rubbed the long scar. “I am sorry.” He lifted her knee gently above the water and for the first time, he was able to see the horrendous scar. “If only…” his voice croaked, “if only you received the best care…” then you wouldn’t have a limp now, Satoru swallowed the rest of his words in silence, pressing his forehead against her knee. “Nothing will ever harm you again, I promise. I’ll protect you.”

A small hand lifted his head, “I believe you.”

Like a puppy, Satoru leaned into her palm. “I have waited for a long time to be with you again, I won’t ever let anyone take you away from me.” He moved closer to kiss her lips softly.

Y/n cupped his face, bringing him closer.

Satoru shifted over to situate himself in between her legs, his fingers tracing along her inner thigh until they reached her sacred moist spot. The tip of his fingers tickled her folds, his eyes on her, attentive to her reactions.

She let out a soft sigh, one of her hands trailing down his arm and to the hand waiting for her permission. She peered up at him at the same time as she guided his finger to slip past her folds. Her breath hitched at the intrusion but he continued to push his finger deeper inside her.

His heart beat loudly and rapidly as her warm and soft walls clenched around his finger tightly. Instantly, his cock became erect, begging to replace his finger.

Y/n’s soft whimpers encouraged him to pump his finger faster until he was easily slipping one finger through her tight hole, he added another finger. “Am – am I the first to touch you like this?”

“Yes. Yes, Satoru…” she confirmed, easing his anxiety away. “You – you are the only one I’ve ever wanted…”

His crystal blue eyes gleamed, and she left him speechless. She could make him weak to his knees for her.

His fingers continued to thrust in and out of her, her whimpers gradually turned into moans echoing softly throughout the bathroom. He pressed down on her clit, circling the needy nub until she trembled under his touch.

Her small body curled up, eyes shut tightly as her small hands covered her mouth to prevent her moans from leaking.

Satoru chuckled lightly to himself, finding her adorable.

Very gently, he withdrew his fingers and let out a shaky breath.

“Y/n,” he called her name in a pleading tone, she opened her eyes and stared into his darker blue eyes. Her eyes drop down, seeing his other hand fisting and stroking his hard cock. “Give me your permission, Y/n. Permit me to take you, and make you mine?”

Without hesitating, she nodded, “yes, Satoru – my body is yours…”

Satoru’s radiant smile caused Y/n’s heart to flutter; in her eyes, he was the most captivating man.

“I have been waiting for this moment and I cannot wait a second longer.” Satoru easily lifted her out of the water, stepping out of the tub. He set her down on her feet, an arm wrapped around her waist as he reached for her yukata and helped her slip it on. Once it was in place, Satoru swept her off her feet, carrying her like a child in the crook of his arm.

“S – Satoru!” Y/n exclaimed, wrapping her arm tightly around his neck. It shocked her that he could carry her with just one arm.

Without covering himself, he walked down the hall naked until he stopped in front of a door. “This is our room.”

Y/n gasped at the size of it, it was a large room filled with decorations and furniture. Against the wall was a platform bed.

“But we aren’t married yet?”

Laying her down in the middle of the bed, Satoru hovers over her, “we will soon. As soon as I can orchestrate it. I don’t want to wait another second without you being where you belong, in my arms every day and night.” He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing her knuckles to his lips. “I know I am being greedy, but please, don’t deny me.”

Y/n’s lips curve into a smile, “how can I? I could never refuse you before, how could I now?”

His head rests against hers as he closes his eyes and murmurs, “I can’t believe you’re really in front of me.”

Y/n’s nose intimately brushes his, “I can’t believe it either… it has been so long…”

The second Satoru opened his eyes again, they were once dark and filled with lust. His hand loosens her yukata, revealing her beauty. He first pecks her lips, chin, and chest before stopping at the valley of her breast. Both his hands grasp her bosom, groping them.

Y/n’s legs widen to accommodate his body, she gasped each time she felt something graze her sensitive clit. “’Toru…”

He missed his name as he was distracted by her perky dark pink nipples. Unable to decide which one he should first suckle, he opted for the left side first.  He had been dying to taste her small nipples the moment he saw them during their bath.

Satoru moaned, swirling his tongue against it. He peered up, watching her face twist in pleasure.

Y/n whimpered when he shifted to the other nipple, she couldn’t believe how turned on she felt just from him suckling her bosom like a baby.

An image of a baby, with platinum white hair and blue eyes appeared before her imagination, her heart wanting nothing more.

“’Toru…” Y/n implored, “g – give me a baby… put a baby in me – please?”

When Satoru’s eyes bulged, Y/n felt foolish at her request. She looked away, hiding her face. “Ignore my request…”

Her eyes widened when she felt something push in between her legs, push into the passage where his fingers were thrusting in and out of moments ago. This time, it was of something bigger and thicker.

“Shh,” Satoru purred, slowly inching his cock deeper into her pussy. His body tensed at her tightness, thinking he had loosened her up enough to accommodate his cock.

He nearly lost his control at her request to put a baby in her. If he was honest with himself, the idea of children wasn’t on his mind. For several years, all he wanted was just to reunite with his love once again. To hear her innocent request, he was willing to oblige. He will give her as many of his children as she wants.

Satoru groaned when he could no longer push further into her pussy, she had taken all of him, just as she was meant to. He glanced between their now sweaty bodies, they were one, a unity. “Haa,” he choked, he shifted his weight to his elbows and knees so he would squish her. She was so tiny compared to him. Staring down at her, his whole body dwarfed hers.

He let out a husky chuckle, “my love, you humor me. You say that it is too early to share a room because we are not married yet but you request for me to put a baby in you…”

“Don’t – don’t tease me,” Y/n stammer, blushing. “Oh – Satoru… you’re – you’re so big…” her nails dug into the skin of his arms. She has been educated that the first time being intimate would bring discomfort but with time, it would bring nothing but pleasure. Letting out a deep breath, she relaxed her body the best she could. She looked into his dark eyes, “I love it…”

Satoru’s ears were ringing as he tried to control his urge to thrust. He was nearly coming undone at just being inside of her alone, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off once she allowed him to move. “Love – love what?”

“I love how you feel… inside me,” she rested a hand against her bulging abdomen. “Here… I can feel you here.”

“Oh, Y/n…” Satoru groaned. “Please… let me move…” he begged.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, “do as you wish.”

Satoru kept a steady slow pace at first, giving her time to adjust to his movements. He was attentive to her moans and the way her body reacted before speeding up his hips.

The room filled with their sweaty skin slapping skin.

“Going to fill you up… fill you with my seed… give you my heir…” Satoru whispered hotly into her ear. His arms slipped behind her back, hugging her close as he neared his orgasm.

“Yes! Yes, Satoru!” Y/n chanted, widening her legs so he could impale her deeper.

Satoru’s body anchored her petite one down as his lower region was the only part pounding deeply inside her. The bed rocked with his hard and heavy thrusts.

“Ah,” they gasped in unison.

Lifting Y/n upward, he settled her on his lap, still embedded deeply inside her. She clung on to him while his cock continued to convulse.

Her head buried into his chest, she mumbled something he couldn’t understand.

“Hmm, what did you say?”

She lifted her head, her face flushed from their passionate lovemaking. “It was amazing…”

Satoru let out a laugh, Y/n joining him with her giggles. “I’m glad… you enjoyed it. There will be plenty more of it…”

. . .

E/N: This is going to be literally porn with a plot.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[papayadays]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

🎻 -> 81 and Oscar piastri?

a/n: sorry for taking so long! 😔 been busy with school but hope 1.6k oscar fic makes up for it <33

“holy mac ‘n cheese balls,” you said, gawking as you drove down the bend of road that lead to a modern-looking building. beside the road was a pond, with sunlight glittering over the surface.

“this is actually real,” your friend added, eyes also wide with awe. with shakier hands than you’d have liked to admit, you parked your car in the lot, both of you getting out and taking in the view. no, it wasn’t the louvre or some famous tourist attraction; in fact, it was something much better in your opinion.

the mclaren technology center, home of the mclaren formula 1 team. you and your friend were huge f1 fans, and mclaren was by far your favorite team. so, when you got an email saying that you had won the mtc tour courtesy of your mclaren plus membership, you two were ecstatic. jumping up and down while screaming levels of estatic. deciding to match, your friend wore her lando shirt and you wore your oscar merch.

at the door, an employee dressed in papaya was waiting for you, a smile on his face. “hi, i assume you’re here for the tour?”

you nodded, beaming. “yup! me and my friend.” you two were ushered inside, the sight of historic f1 cars making your eyes widen.

“i’m mateo, and i’m set to be showing you around,” the employee grinned. “but, since the f1 season is on break, we’re also joined by some special guests.” he glanced over your shoulder, and you turned around to see oscar piastri and lando norris walk over towards you two. holy shit, was this real? you were about to meet both mclaren drivers, your favorites, in person.

“hey, how are you?” oscar smiled at you two, sticking out his hand. you shook it, an awestruck expression on your face - you just shook oscar piastri’s hand, you were never going to wash it again - which you quickly masked. they were probably annoyed with how many people mooned over them, and you would too if you were in their position.

“good, how about you?” you responded, your friend squeezing your arm tightly.

oscar chuckled. “we’re doing good, looking forward to showing you around.”

mateo glanced at his phone before looking back at the drivers. “so, are you guys taking over? because i just got an email for a meeting?”

“yeah,” lando nodded. “we’re showing them around, i think.” mateo gave him a thumbs up and headed off, leaving you and your friend with the drivers.

“first off, what are your names?” oscar asked. you and your friend answered, still in shock that formula one drivers were learning your names.

oscar nodded, internalizing that information as lando clapped his hands together. “how long have you guys been mclaren fans?”

“as soon as we started watching f1, which was what- ten years ago?” you responded, your friend having the same experience as you.

oscar’s eyes widened as lando gave you two his signature smile. “perfect, we have loyal fans,” he said, amused. “c’mon, we’ll show you the cars first.”

your eyes immediately landed on the mp4/2 while lando was explaining something about the modern car to your friend. “so, you know your stuff, huh?” oscar remarked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“of course i do, it’s one of the most dominant cars in, y’know, the team’s history,” you chuckled. “i take fan duties very seriously.”

“i would expect no less,” the australian driver snorted, both of you turning your attention back to lando.

“…and that’s why the 2026 regs are similar to drs,” he finished, turning and walking down a bit more.

you glanced at the cars, fingers reaching out as if to touch it before pulling it back. you probably couldn’t mess with the cars. “it’s fine, you can touch it,” oscar said, amused. you placed your hand on the sidepod, awe sparking in you; you were touching an engineering masterpiece.

“thanks,” you whispered, though unsure of what you were thanking him for. “it’s beautiful.” oscar’s expression softened, smiling at you. as your attention shifted, you didn’t notice lando elbowing the younger driver with a shit-eating grin.

you stopped by mika haikkinen’s mp4-13, nodding appreciatively. “the first mclaren designed by adrian newey,” oscar commented, standing next to you as you admired the car.

nodding, you took a picture of the car, like you had been with all of the noteworthy cars. wanting to reference something from your uni engineering homework, you took it out of your bag, asking your friend something. you quickly sketched a small feature on your work, laying it flat on a nearby table while your pencil moved across the paper.

you hear oscar call out your name. “c’mon, they’re already moving ahead,” he told you and you followed him.

soon, you reached the more private rooms for debriefings and r&d before heading to the trophy cases. “whoa,” you breathed out, eyes scanning all the trophies.

“yup,” lando chimed proudly. “we’re a successful team. does that trophy ring a bell?” he pointed to the trophy from his maiden win in miami.

“obviously,” you laughed, recalling your glee that day. “that was a good race.” lando gave you a smug grin, clearly still reminiscent of that exciting may day.

you walked a little further, eyes drawn to the shiny silver baku trophy. hearing footsteps behind you, you turned your head slightly, papaya orange in your periphery. “how did it feel?” you asked softly.

oscar blinked for a second, not expecting that question. “it was um, definitely stressful while i was driving,” he responded. “but after, it was incredible. i was so happy.”

“i would think so,” you smiled. “it was a really good race, especially defence against leclerc.”

“thanks,” oscar nodded, brown eyes meeting yours. no, snap out of it, you thought to yourself as you glanced back at the trophy shelf, cheeks pink. oscar was a formula 1 driver. way out of your league, if he’d ever give you the chance in the first place.

“best story to tell our class later,” your friend commented, moving next to you.

“agreed,” you snorted. “i also need to show our profesor my revised drawings for-” you rummaged around in your bag, frowning. “where did my uni work go?”

“did you take it out here?” oscar asked, having clearly eavsdropped. you nodded, searching around the room.

lando looked around before pointing at you and oscar. “check the boulevard, we’ll check here,” he instructed. you listened wordlessly, turning and heading back the way you came, oscar on your heels.

you glanced at all the cars you stopped at, frustration growing as your work was nowhere to be found. “hey, it’s okay, we’ll find it,” oscar reassured you, surprising you slightly. his eyes drifted over your shoulder, brightening as he walked towards a little nook, grabbing the paper on the table. “oh, it was right here.”

your expression changed to one of shock, moving to stand next to oscar who was indeed holding your classwork. however, the australian driver wasn’t handing it back. “oscar?” you tried.

“huh? oh. sorry,” he said sheepishly, handing you the paper. “was just, um, intrigued by it. i used to take math and physics gcses at school.

you glanced up at him, amused, as he added, “it looks like good engineering.”

“thank you,” you chuckled, tucking the paper safely in your purse. “so you’re saying you juggled racing and gces?”

“a levels too,” oscar said, a faint smirk on his face that was not common of him.

“valid,” you laughed, walking side by side with him as you two made your way back to the others. “that must’ve been insane. school and racing?”

“it was…something,” oscar agreed. “though i’m not half as smart as you.” before you could respond, you were reunited with the others and lando was already talking.

“oh, osc, perfect!” lando beamed. “we’re gonna wrap up now and sign some merch for them. you guys both get signed drivers cards and a hat signed by both of us.”

your eyes widened with surprise; it just kept getting better. oscar pulled a sharpie out of thin air, seemingly. “do you want me to sign anything for you?” he asked.

“could you sign my shirt and hat?” you said, letting oscar write his signature. “thanks.”

“no problem,” oscar nodded, not working on signing your driver card. he handed it back to you, but your jaw dropped as you saw his number as well.

“oscar-” you were cut off as he unexpectedly grabbed your arm, pulling you two out of lando and your friend’s earshot.

“i wanted to give you my number and ask if you wanted to have dinner with me sometime,” he explained, slightly bashful. now your jaw was fully on the floor. “i just, i dunno, felt a flicker with you. i think you’re not like many other people i’ve met, and i really enjoy talking to you.”

you willed yourself not to start freaking out, not wanting to seem like a fangirl and scare him. “that’d be great, oscar. but, don’t you think you’re kinda out of my league?” you responded, making oscar blink in surprise.

“out of your league? if anything, i’m out of your league,” he replied. “i don’t care if you’re a fan rather than anyone else, i like talking to you.” and damn it, you didn’t really know what else to say to that.

“then yeah, i’d really like that,” you smiled. oh god, you were down bad already.

“me too,” oscar grinned, brown eyes meeting yours for the second time today.

taglist: @justaf1girl

[thedenerts]

love isn't red ; it's blue

Hi! This is my first fic on Logan Howlett. Not very good with english but i hope you guys would enjoy reading and if you want to see more please, do ask me ! ^^

dofp LOGAN X FEM!READER

tags: MDNI 18+, bad parenting, fingering, logan and reader are married, reader is in their 30s

word count: 1445

notes; if there's any bad english grammar, i mind you that english is NOT my first language

The night came by too quickly; Logan washed what was left off the little dishes by the sink. He watched as you and Hera (your first born daughter) talking on the patio. He stared at the mother of 2 who hasn’t aged a day since they had met. Your hair wild as a gyspsy’s, and body clothed in a simple shirt dress. You looked over your shoulder and smiled; Logan’s heart skipped a beat. You, yourself don’t even know what you had done to him after all these years. Logan felt his pants tighten at the sight of your black and silver lace bra through the white material. His thought process was broken by a loud grunt behind him, his hazel eyes met Hank’s. Hank had a smirk across his blue furry coat ass face (i intended to write down like this).

“Been awhile huh?” Hank asked, catching Logan’s sexual tension. Logan rubbed his face with his wet hands, turning away from his hairy blue friend. He grabbed the beer Hank offered, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, Mateo, he's definitely my son, alright...but damn," he grunted, taking a sip. "Every time Y/N and I try to get a moment alone, that kid senses it and wakes his little ass up." He slammed his palm on the counter, frustration evident. “Tonight, I’ma put some beer in his milk and keep him asleep all night long" Logan grinned at himself while Hank laughed at his friend’s irritation.

Logan's ears perked up as he heard Hera's yawn and Mateo getting fussy, signalling bedtime. Hank, noticing the situation, slapped Logan's back and exited the kitchen, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. You were pulled by Hera, who forcefully tugged on your arm while cradling Mateo in the other. Before you could reach the stairs with Hera, Logan stops you by standing in front. “What’s the matter, Lo?” You asked with a soft chuckled “Oh, nothing, I was wondering if I could take over and handle that little monster of ours while you’re off to shower huh?” Logan replied as he picked up Mateo up away from your arm and cradles him in his. You raised a brow at him, feeling a bit sceptical but took the chances as you continue to make your way up with Hera.

Logan waved you a goodnight then looks down at his son’s drooling face. “Hey there bub, I’m not gonna let you ruin me and your momma’s time tonight. Not on my watch.” He cooed at the now smiling baby who was playing with Logan’s mutton chaffs. His tiny hands playing with Logan’s facial hair is almost too adorable to handle as Logan makes his way back into the kitchen. Unscrewing off the cap of the baby bottle, Logan put a few drops of diluted beer into Mateo’s milk and fed him up. He looks up at the time and noticed that it was almost nine p.m. Cradling Mateo in his arms while feeding him the diluted milk, Logan makes his way to Mateo’s room and gently sets him down in his crib. Letting the bottle beside him in case if Mateo gets cranky again.

Hurriedly, Logan makes his way to the master bedroom where you both shared. Hera, who was already sleeping in her other room, unbothered with what noise that will be occurring next. Logan enters the bedroom and waits anxiously as he sat down at the edge of the bed. His eyes clouded over with lust and deep desires when he saw you in a black almost see through that night shirt of yours. He whistles lowly when you smiled at him through your reflection, he approached his temptress nice and slow, hands on your hips before roaming that sweet sweet curve body of yours. Logan brought up his hand behind your head before placing kisses on your lips then to your shoulders while his other hand on your hips, pulling closer to his body. Your breath hitches, your (insert your hair colour) sprawled across his back as you threw you head back, allowing him more access. You felt a burning sensation in your lower belly.

Logan growled lowly, moving the both of you towards a large California king black oak bed. He laid you onto the red sheets, adoring your body with more kisses and soft touches. He spread your legs wide apart and settled in between them. “I missed this…I missed you, darlin’” He groaned with his eyes looking down at you with pure desire, pulling away your panties down and throwing aside as his hands now reaching your now wet sex; you moaned softly. Logan smirked at the sight of you arching your head back telling him that you wanted more. You rolled your eyes at the back of your head as Logan inserted two of his fingers into your wet sex. Your fingers intertwined within the silk sheets of the bed. Logan tries his best to restrain himself as best he could, but as he caught sight of your body begging for more…he withdrew his fingers out, removing off his clothes and pants and threw it aside.

You panted heavily, trying your best to lift your head up, eyes looking down to where Logan's shaft comes out leaking with pre-cum. Logan positions himself between your now spread legs, he looks down at you on the bed, biting his lower lip slightly, his heart racing as he smirks. Seeing you all flustered and panting to his magic touch…makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “It’s your fault, you know…looking all mighty fine under that night dress of yours, darlin’”. His hand gripping on your hip, tightening while the other bracing against the bed. His voice, rough and ragged as he plunged into you. With that; you let out a strangled moan, your hips slightly raised by Logan’s thrusts. His hand that was bracing against the bed slides under your night dress, then bra and removing it so that his only restrictions is your beautiful body.

As soon as they were on the floor beside his clothes, Logan then returned one hand back to your moist area and the other on your breasts. You moan even louder than before almost begging for more. “You like that, honey? Huh? You like how I’m gonna fill you up real nice and good?” He continues to pound you harder than before, his voice coming out with heavy grunts and moans; You clutched onto his arms as Logan groaned, filling you up. Logan moves with such pace in and out, building up your moans until they were his name. “Please…Lo…I’m gonna come…” you moaned loudly, arching your back causing you to cry out with pleasure. Logan’s primal instinct kicked as he could feel you tightening around him; “Fuck…darlin’! You’re so tight” he said. Your body turning into deep red blush from cheeks to hips. You couldn’t think or said anything except moans and cries from his thrust; hitting your spot every time. You met his already deep thrusts with your hips moving down as he went up.

Logan growled, grabbing your hips and kissing you roughly as your climax hits hard. You came undone on his thick throbbing cock, sweat dripping from both of you but Logan… he wasn’t done. Instead. He withdrew and lifted you on your hands and knees. You didn’t have time to react, so without second to waste, he re-entered. You threw your head back as your body taking every inch of him. Pushing your bottom closer, Logan took your submission and grab ahold of your hips once more; thrusting at full speed. You feel another climax coming quickly. Logan’s hands moved up to your spine, stroking as he finally released his hot seed into you as you let yourself go for a second time. Logan moaned deeply and flops down on top of you before rolling to the other side of the bed. Logan, his arms wraps around you, holding you close against his chest, feeling your body nuzzling into his, his own strength beginning to return. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his breath still uneven, his heart pounding in his chest. "You okay, darlin’? I didn't hurt you, did I?" You shake your head then smiled, laying your head on his chest with your finger playing on his chest.

Both you and Logan laughed before Mateo stirs awake, crying for attention. Logan groans, rolling his eyes. “Well, I guess someone’s awake. Better go check him out” You chuckled softly at him and nodded.

[cookie-crumblr]

Red Lily Down

GN! Reader x Bunny Hybrid Harem

Part 1~

Introductions

Their Info: 💐🐰✨

Part: 1 2

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, GN! Reader, No pronouns used for reader, no genitalia descriptions mentioned for reader, bunny hybrid reader/mostly all of the harem is an animal hybrid of some kind, NSFW: sexual themes all throughout, every named character wants you, non con touching, smut, no sex yet! nipple touching

Disclaimer: This harem’s theme is based off of a mix of Roots of Pacha and Watership Down. Not intended to represent any real or specific person/time/place/ or culture!

“Wakey, wakey sleepyhead!” You fling open the thick curtains to Azure’s room.

He was already awake, but he’s got a fierce mix of laziness, and craving you as a daily wake up call. So he was well prepared to stay cooped up for a while. “You’re the sleepyhead, been waitin’ all mornin’ for you,” He pats the cushy bedding beside him, inviting you to join.

You gleefully hop over. As you begin your decent, his arms fully envelope you, and pull you into his body. You snuggle against him as he inhales the top of your head deeply. “You shouldn’t crawl into everyone’s beds, Y/n… Especially a guy’s, like mine…” He pauses, before he scowls, “Or Lore’s. Stay away from her’s too.”

Your heart thumps at the connotations to his words, and the proximity to his hot body that you’re far more aware of now. The way his body contours to you perfectly…

“But… You’re my friends!” You try and keep the fact that your burning up now hidden. Try as you might, it doesn’t stop the fact that you both can hear the sound of each others blood pumping faster, and harder.

“Don’t pretend your heart didn’t just jump,” he nuzzles into your head further, “and your so warm…” His hand finds your chest through your top and squeezes softly.

You jump out of his bed at once, “I’m gonna be late for my checkup with Llyr!” An excuse, sure. But true nonetheless.

“Tell ‘em i’ll kill him if he touches you.” He growls as he rolls over in a huff.

“He has to touch me!” Your face warms, “He’s the healer, Azure.” You roll your eyes at his back.

Azure grumbles and sinks further into the pillows and hay, “I’ll still kill ‘em…”

On your walk through the warren you feel uneasy… Something is definitely watching you.

“Oooooh Llyr! I’m here~!” You enter the vine covered healer’s hut with a mighty flourish, ready to get your business out of the way.

“Perfect! Welcome, Y/N! please, have a seat here,” His back is turned as he speaks. You can hear the sound of him using a mortar and pestle to grind something into a mushy, grainy substance. The sound persists through several long moments, a growing nervousness is able to sink in…

It’s just a check up! You breathe in.

“There… Now, Y/N, i need you to eat this.” He addresses you.

“What is it?” you inspect the bowl, it’s just a mushy, herby ball.

“You don’t want it?” His smile remains even.

“I guess I do…” Unaware of his special ingredient, you gulp it down… You trust the warren healer.

It tastes like roots and spice.

You don’t feel any different.

“Good. Now, take off your shirt”

“Oh… Okay….” Whether you’re used to having it off or not, you still feel embarrassed to do it for him. You cover yourself with your arms until he pulls them away.

“There, good job,” he coos gently. Your cheeks feel warmer.

He leans his head against your now bare chest, fuzzy blonde ear resting all the way up over your shoulder. “I need to hear your heartbeat clearly,” He reaches up your torso.

“O-kayyy—EEP!” As you’re speaking he tweaks your nipple.

“Good~” he coos, “Good response,”

He’s rolling your nipple now.

“Mm… I-Is th-this—necessary?” You question.

“Heyyy, Y/n~!” The warren’s playboy, and your ex, enters through the beaded curtain with a certain undeniable swagger.

The healer puts his arms up in surrender, “Mateo,” though his eyes crinkle into a smile, he’s anything but innocent.

“Been sent by chief to come get them” A sly smirk spreads across Mateo’s face as he helps you back into your clothes.

He rakes his fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps behind. His hand trails the edge of your ear, and he leans over top of you to blow a little puff of air into it. Your insides heat up, and you cover your face shylly.

“I-uh… Gotta forage with Aster soon anyway! sorry Llyr” You follow him out.

After you’ve both gotten outside and away from curious glances, he pins you to the closest earthen hut. His hand finds your ear to play with yet again, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you…”

“How many people have you said that to?” You roll your eyes.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. I should have never cheated on you…”

“We were together for like one summer when we were like seventeen cycles old.” While you speak you brush away his roaming hands.

He grabs you by the hips, and pushes you harder against the wall. His passion and frustration mixing for you specially. “I never stop thinking of you. Truly. It’s not even sexual all the time!” You feel his breath against your lips, and turn away.

“Wow that’s such an accomplishment for you. I’m soo honored.” You say, sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom. “I’ll go find the chief myself.”

When you walk away, he’s left there somehow looking more hot than when he came to get you. Disheveled, hot and bothered… Craving you.

On your way, you continue to feel watched…

You open the woven bramble door to Chief Winter’s carved stone hut.

“Ah there you are, little one, have you come to a decision?” Winter is sitting, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back. His one green orb takes in all of you. Your own eyes wander across every deeply carved muscle on his body, stopping in wonder at every beautifully thick and jagged scar.

You notice him smile, pleased that youre enjoying his glorious visage. He uncrosses his legs and his loincloth is tented by something absolutely massive. Your mouth is suddenly very dry. “Yes sir… I mean no sir! I mean—! I don’t know yet… Sir!” You blather.

He asked you a moon cycle ago if you wanted to be his mate.

He laughs heartily, “Do not fret, little one, I find you most endearing.” His smile is warm and inviting, a stark contrast to such a hardened looking man. “But, I’m sure you have duties to attend to. You are dismissed. Do visit whenever though,”

“Y/n! Hey!” Lore pops out from nowhere and makes you jump.

“Lore! Gods, you scared me!” Hand over heart, you try to speak without gasping.

“Hehe! Sorry!” She shifts her attention to the chief, “See ya Winter!”

He smiles and gives you a nod as you’re dragged out by the bard.

Something is still watching you. You can sense it every time you’re no longer sheltered by the indoors.

She clings to your arm as you both walk through the crabgrass and clovers between huts. “When’s our next slumber party?” She puts her bottom lip out and gives you her best puppy dog eyes. She’s adorable.

“I donno, Azure said I shouldn’t be getting into everyone’s beds anymore…”

Her grip tightens painfully, “and… Where were you when he said that?”

“in…”

“His bed. Hm.” Lore pulls a jagged flint knife out of her belt. “Be right back, Y/n~”

you grab her arm, “Wait! could you please stop threatening eachother?”

“But!!! UHG! he needs to die.” She folds her arms, and tilts her head up defiantly, her back is turned to you.

You lean over her shoulder to get direct access to her ear. “No he does not, Lore. I’d never forgive you,”

“F-fine.” Steeling herself with a deep breath, she re-sheathes the knife. “You owe me though…”

“What do you want?” You ask.

“A sleepover! Duh!” She touches your chest, “And…” Her lips crash softly against yours, the scent of sweet herbs carries on her. “That.” She pulls back to look into your eyes before she saunters away happily.

You notice the position of the sun and almost shriek! Aster is so gonna rub it in your face if he forages more than you.

You hurry home to grab your favorite basket and head to the forest to join Aster. On your way, you feel that you’re being hunted.

“Hey Y/n~ Wanna make it a game day?” Aster’s basket is already a quarter full of little fruits and mushrooms, so he’s going to win, but…

“Sure, why not” You giggle.

“Usual rules, loser has to do whatever the winner says…” You don’t quite notice the devilish sparkle to his smile, so you naturally agree. Gotta have fun while you do your duties!

Your basket fills fast enough, you still lose, though it’s not like you didn’t see it coming.

Once you’ve both turned in your efforts of the day, Aster finds you at the banquet. You were putting your bowl away after cleaning it, when his arms snake around you.

“Loser…” He taunts.

“Hah! Aster, no need to be a sore winn—” His hand travels down to your bottoms. “er…”

“Shh. Do whatever I say, remember?” Fingertips find your skin now, brushing barely over it. “stand still.”

Shaking legs and all, you obey to your best ability.

He finds a sweet spot, eliciting a small gasp, and he stays there. Your brows knit, and you close your eyes. he pushes down harder, but still gently.

“Next time, I’m gonna take you.” His breath tickles your neck as he whispers.

You shiver, eyes wide.

[auroralwriting]

if you feel it, chase it

spencer reid x fem!reader (twisters! au)

storm chasing was the intent, falling in love was not.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: do not read if you don't want twisters spoilers, it's the whole fic so beware, spencer is tyler and reader is kate basically, spencer is still himself with a touch of tyler, sort of enemies/strangers to lovers, this has more romance than the movie and it has the kiss we all wanted, no use of y/n

You promised yourself long ago you’d never storm chase again.

After the losses of Elle, Jason, and Haley, it was too much to bare. You’d been the sole survivor of the tornado. Of course, your friend Derek had also survived, but he didn’t experience what you did. He could never understand.

You’d moved from Oklahoma to New York in hopes of moving on, but when Derek came to you five years later, asking you to help his team, you found yourself on a flight back home before you could even reconsider. Going back home after all this time sort of scared you, but Derek and his fifteen missed calls, twenty messages, and one voice message really seemed to convince you.

Derek’s team was for a company run by an investor named Erin Strauss. You’d only overheard her name, but she was using the data collected by Derek’s team to help predict storms before they happened. It seemed like the best idea. It could help save a lot of lives.

The team was small, but included Derek and storm chasers David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Mateo Cruz, and Jennifer Jareau. Now, it also included you. For the week, you reminded yourself.

You stood with the team as Derek introduced you. Suddenly, a loud stream of music approached quickly. You all watched as a truck and van pulled up. JJ scoffed, “Ignore them. They’re just some famous youtube storm chasers. They’re just in this for the trill of the storm.”

It was inevitable that you continued to stare. The group looked interesting, especially their leader, as you’d guessed. He was tall, curly dark hair, and was yelling something the crowd chanted back. If you feel it, chase it.

"They call themselves the BAU. Boundary Advection Units."

Deciding to ignore them, you walked out to the empty field to stare at the sky. Where would the best storm be…

“West looks good,” A voice said behind you. You turned to see the man from minutes ago, now staring at the sky. “East looks like it could be something.. maybe. High risk, high reward."

“Air’s thicker east, looks like a lot of empty space for a storms to grow.” You commented. “You’ll get a nice show that way for your fans. West is fine, but don't be surprised if they choke each other out, though."

The man stepped closer as you two looked at each other. “I’m, uh, Spencer Reid.” He introduced.

“I have a job to get to,” You scoffed, walking passed him. “East’s got the best chances, take ‘em!”

Approaching your somewhat team, you turned to Derek. “West, we have to go west.”

Rossi scrunched his eyebrows together, “But west has the best air quality for tornados. It looks like there could be several-"

"We go west. Come on, let's get in the vans." Derek said quickly.

Fireworks. They lit off fucking fireworks into the tornado. That had to be some kind of hazard, right? You were a little pissed at yourself for becoming so scared of the tornado. It was simple, an E2. It wouldn't have hurt you. You should have let Derek place the device down to get data.

Derek walked along the path with you to the hotel. He'd asked you to hang out, but you declined. It was too much, too soon. Actually, it wasn't too soon. It reminded you too much of the past. It could never happen. You weren't back. It was just one week.

As you walked up the stairs to your room, you were stopped by Spencer.

"Hey," He called. "The cells to the west will choke each other out, she said. The one in the east will put on a show."

You shrugged, "It didn't throw you off the scent."

"That's what makes Spencer so famous," A woman beside Spencer said. "Hi, I'm Penelope."

Eyebrow raised, you leaned on the railing. "You mean on YouTube?"

"On- Yeah, yeah. We have a million followers!" Penelope cheered with the rest of the crowd. "You know Spencer, but that's Tara, Luke, Alex, and Kate." They all waved and you gave a forced smile. "You made a good call earlier. On my devices, the other cell looked stronger but the cap never broke."

"Where did you all meet? Did you study meteorology in college together?" You asked.

They all laughed, "Nah, only Spencer has a degree, a whole ass PhD in meteorology." Luke laughed. "We all just like to go with the flow. Or, his flow, I guess."

"Our crew isn't quite like your crew. We don't need PhDs and fancy gadgets to do what we do." Spencer said. "I guarantee that these guys," Spencer pointed to the clearly homemade windcatchers, "have seen more tornadoes than anyone here."

"Is that right?" You asked sarcastically.

Spencer turned to you once more, but this time, it was awkwardly. "If you want, uh, maybe we can put you in one of our episodes."

You feigned a clearly fake awe, "Wow. I guess you can always trust a guy who puts his crew on a tee-shirt."

"Hey, I did that!" Penelope called as the rest of the group ooh'd at your comment about Spencer.

You began to walk up to your room as Spencer was quick to follow. "Hey, it wasn't my idea to start the channel." He frowned as you grabbed the key. "I just do it to get my knowledge out there."

"What knowledge?" You ask.

"I have an eidetic memory," Spencer awkwardly said. "That and my PhD. I, uh, know a lot about tornadoes. I want to inform people. Knowledge is power."

With a shake of your head, you open the door. "But knowledge isn't everything, right?" You asked, going inside and shutting the door behind you.

Spencer stood outside for a moment, reeling from your comment. Maybe his friends had been influencing him too much.

It was twins, a whole set of twin tornadoes. Luckily, you'd picked the right one, and Spencer didn't. Unluckily, the tornado almost flipped the truck you and Derek shared. Even worse, it damaged a nearby town.

Everything had been destroyed. Derek and the team were handing out cards to the people as you looked around, helping people find their belongings and returning them.

You knew what it felt like to have everything taken from you, just like that. It was horrible. This was the first tornado you'd been caught in since the last, and you truly thought you were going to die, too. You remembered the looks on your friends faces as the wind swept them up and away. You were truly scared.

Of course, the BAU showed up, too. They set up a merch table. It made you sick to see them selling their merchandise minutes after a life-changing event took place. It made you even angrier to know these people were being taken advantage of.

"Nice play on the left twin." Spencer said as he walked up to you.

"Yeah, well it didn't help these people any." You sighed, looking around.

Spencer watched as Strauss gave her business card to a man. "I wasn't aware that Storm Par was in the helping business." Spencer bitterly stated.

"Well, from what I see they're trying to make a difference." Slowly, you approached Spencer. His well-fitted shirt looked good on him. You took notice of his different-colored converse. It was oddly charming.

"That's one way of putting it." Spencer replied.

"What?"

Spencer paused, "Do you even know who you're chasing for?"

What did he mean? You knew of Strauss, and it was for Derek. "What are you talking about?"

"How much more do these people have to lose?" Spencer angrily asked, walking closer to you. "Is this what you call making a difference?"

"Sorry," You chuckled bitterly, "Says the guy setting up shop selling tee-shirts and mugs after the storms hit."

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, "I have a dog to find." With that, he walked away leaving you more confused than you had been.

What did he mean? Was there something he knew that you didn't? Even if you didn't know anything, you knew you didn't like Spencer getting angry with you. It didn't suit him, the anger. He looked too sweet to be so upset. Maybe you needed to do some digging and find out what he knew.

Right as you walked back to your truck, Kate ran up to you calling your name. "Hey, take some food."

"Oh, don't have any cash." You replied, looking at the girls outstretched arm.

Kate gave you a confused look, "It's free. That's why we're always selling those tee-shirts."

It hit you that maybe you were being the ass. You looked back to the stand to see people getting food and water. You felt your stomach churn. You turned back to Kate. "Oh. Well, save it in case you run low."

"Okay," Kate softly agreed, "At least take some water, stay hydrated."

"Thanks," You replied softly.

"Yeah, see ya." Kate ran back over to her group as you watched. Something wasn't right. You were misinformed. Yeah, it was definitely research time.

WE BUY LAND.

The slogan of the website made you feel like you'd betrayed the whole world as you stared at Strauss' figure standing over a pile of rubble. That's what this was for. It wasn't to help people, it was to buy their land after the tornado came through. It wasn't to stop the tornado, it was just to track it.

Derek knew that wasn't what you were about. It never used to be what he was about. He had to know, so the real question was why would he lie to you?

A knock at your motel door interrupted your thoughts. You shut your laptop and stood up to walk to the door. You opened it to see Spencer standing awkwardly with a box of pizza. His hair was messy and he gave you a crooked smile.

"Thought you might be hungry." He offered. Hesitantly, you took the pizza. You ended up shutting the door without a word and walking back over to your bed.

You opened it, suddenly feeling the urge to see if maybe he wanted some. You needed to tell him you weren't like them. Why his opinion of you mattered so highly, you didn't quite understand.

Opening the door, he was still standing there. "You find that dog?"

"Of course," Spencer nodded. "I wouldn't have left until I did. How you doing after all that?"

You tsked, "It doesn't matter. It's those people who matter."

"Well, you've seen the worst of this place." Spencer hesitated. "I thought that, uh, maybe it would be nice to show you something good. That's if you want to go, of course. It's late and tornado chasing can make you tired-"

"I'll go." You nodded, cutting him off. "Let me get my shoes."

Spencer ended up taking you to a rodeo. You sat in the stands watching. "This isn't, uh, really my speed to be honest." He admitted, awkwardly smiling at you.

"What is your speed then?" You asked, now interested in getting to know him better.

"I like museums. Books, uh, research. That's what I wanted to do. But my mom got sick, so I came back here to help her. Got into chasing." Spencer answered. "I still want to do research. Maybe at a college, somewhere. And I can still chase."

You nodded, "You'd like it. It seems up your alley. Use those smarts to inform the people about tornados and shit."

Spencer chuckled, "Yeah, and shit." After a moment, he asked "Is this your speed?"

"I grew up out here, this isn't my first rodeo." You joked. Spencer chuckled too. It warmed you to know you two had connected.

"Look at that, we're learning things about each other." Spencer commented.

"I didn't know she was buying land," You admitted to him. "I looked it up. Derek just asked me to help his team, we've been friends for years so I just said yes."

Spencer nodded. He looked compassionate. "You didn't strike me as the type to do something like that."

"I'm not," You agreed.

All of a sudden, the wind picked up strongly. It made you shiver. Wait, the weather man didn't predict strong winds. Your heart stopped as you turned to Spencer, who was already looking at you with the same look you adorned. "Were you tracking cells out this way?" Spencer didn't reply, he just slowly turned to the sky. You did the same, staring up. "Air feels heavy, this isn't good."

The same alarm blared from the stands. It was your phones. You opened it to see the bold letters, Tornado Warning. The sirens began to echo throughout the vast space and your heart rate increased.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I've just received word a tornado has touched down near the area! Please evacuate this arena right now!"

Spencer quickly grabbed your hand to help lead you out through the crowd of people. "Come on," He muttered your name a few times. "Hold on, come on." As the crowed began to run, so did you both. A woman fell in front of you and you both helped her up quickly. "Hurry, come on!" Spencer said with more urgency.

It was a disaster. People were scrambling, cars were hitting each other. Spencer held your hand tightly and pulled you closer to him. The lightning lit up the sky, and you could see the tornado.

"Spencer, we have no time!" You yelled.

Right as you went to cross the street, cars almost hit you. Spencer jumped out in front of them, yelling for them to stop as the two of you ran across. You ran into some ranky motel where the front counter worker was arguing with some customers. You'd managed to grab their attention and run outside. After a small scan, you realized there was really nowhere safe to go.

You had to think outside the box, where would be the safest?

Once your eyes fell on the pool, you knew. "The pool! Come on!" You yelled as everyone ran.

The three from the motel ended up running to car. You couldn't stop them. So, you focused on the mom and child you came across, helping them down. Spencer was the last, and right as he made it down, a large chunk of metal hit the ladder and you yanked his arm, pulling him close to you. Quickly, you ran to the end of the pool and held onto the metal pipes as the tornado finally made its way to you.

Please, don't let me die. Not here, not now.

Spencer held on above you, shielding you with his own body.

The moment it was over, you made your way up the ladder to see that everything was utterly destroyed. The Storm Par van you recognized as Derek's drove up. A moment later, he was sprinting out of the car and to you.

"God," He muttered your name as he pulled you into a tight hug. "I thought I lost you."

"Derek," You pulled back. "Why didn't you tell me about Strauss?" You looked over his shoulder to see her speaking with a couple, probably the owners of the land. "She's profiting off their loss."

Derek furrowed his brows, "The way I see it, she's helping them restart."

"By taking all they have left?" You questioned. "That's not helping."

"Yeah?" Derek challenged, anger taking over his features. "How would you know what losing everything you have is?" The moment the words left his mouth, he froze. "I didn't.. I didn't mean--"

You shook your head, "No, Derek. I understand perfectly fine." Slowly, you began to back away. You took the keys from his hand quickly and ran to the van, Derek yelling behind you.

Without a second thought, you started the vehicle and began to drive away. You could still hear Derek yelling apologizes, but what caught your eye was Spencer watching you drive away with a look on his face you couldn't quite understand.

Back at home, your mother welcomed you with open arms. She even left your science experiments in the barn, exactly how you left it all five years ago. It was comforting to be back at home, but at the same time it brought back those painful memories you tried so hard to bury deep, deep down.

The next morning, your mom came to let you know a scrawny, handsome man was here to see you. You simply sighed, telling her to let him come to you.

You stared at your tornado machine from middle school, remembering how happy you were when you'd won first place. Footsteps echoed behind you, and you knew it was Spencer.

"A tornado machine," He stepped close, leaning over to observe it. "The hydraulics on this thing are amazing. Plus, the art is really good too."

"It was my middle school science fair project," You hummed, watching as he carefully picked up one of the small houses, setting it back up.

Spencer turned back around with a geeky smile, "Did you win?"

"What do you think?" You replied with a small smile matching his.

"It's definitely no volcano," Spencer joked as he walked back over to you. "It was Penelope who recognized your name from the news a few years back. I'm sorry about your friends." Spencer said as he eyes a photo that was tacked to the barn's walls. It was one with you, Derek, and your friends. He looked back to you with a look you hadn't seen him give you before. If you would've thought about it, you would've known it was adoration.

You shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. "It was my fault. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"It wasn't your fault," Spencer shook his head, walking closer to you.

"It wasn't supposed to be an E5. It was supposed to be smaller, easier to manipulate and be around. I convinced them all to do it." You argued.

Spencer took one of your notebooks and began looking through it, "You theorized you could stop a tornado with polymers that would suck up the moisture." Spencer said as he flipped through the pages.

"It didn't work." You casually replied.

"Well, maybe it could." Spencer looked up, "Maybe you just need a new model. This has a genuine chance of working if you just--"

You held out a hand, closing your eyes as you sucked in a breath. "Spencer, no. That's in the past. I can't-- I just can't."

"You should try," Spencer encouraged. "Imagine the difference you could make with this."

Spencer's words struck a chord with you. That had been your goal, and it was his, too. Even so, it was too risky. It was too painful after what had happened. There was no way you could do it again, let alone rope in Spencer to help you. "I just can't." You finally said after a moment. "It won't." After another moment, you swallowed the lump in your throat. "Stay for dinner, and stay the night. You shouldn't be driving so late during tornado season by yourself."

"I don't want to intrude--"

"Please?"

Spencer looked to you, his eyes wider than normal at your plead. "Okay," He nodded. "Yeah, I'll stay."

You couldn't let anything happen to Spencer, too, you decided.

El Reno was about to be hit with the biggest fucking tornado you'd ever seen. Not only did it just hit a power plant and set on fire, but it was headed to small town with no warnings.

Spencer and you sped to the town, Luke's RV trailing right behind you. The second you got there, it was about finding shelter for people. His team and you all directed people to the storm shelters, but there was just so many people.

"Hey, the shelters are all full." Luke ran up to inform you and Spencer. "We gotta direct them to the theater."

"That won't be any better than standing outside," You shook your head. "There has to be another way."

Luke called Penelope over who typed into her phone at rapid speed, "There's nowhere else without windows." Penelope informed. "Theater is the best place we can take them."

You looked to Spencer, nervously biting your lip. He nodded at you as you took a deep breath, "Okay, let's move them fast. Keep them in the middle, hold onto seats when the walls cave."

The theater became so full, it felt like you were moving through a mosh crowd. This wasn't safe, with the number of people and size of tornado, it was bound to kill everyone. You ran to one side of the building, checking to see if there was shelter.

To your surprise, Derek met up with you and Spencer. "Other side has nothing." Derek said quickly. You knew he'd choose the right way.

"Okay, we gotta get these people in safer positions." Spencer said quickly. As the two ran off, you couldn't help but stare at the tornado.

Maybe Spencer was right. Maybe you could make a difference. After all, this tornado was bound to kill you all. Might as well die trying, right? You took a look at his truck that still had the barrels of your concoction loaded on the back. Quickly, you ran to it, trying your best to not get swept up by the wind. The second you got inside, you knew there was no going back from this.

Spencer began to look for you, asking Derek if he'd seen you. When he saw his truck out in the field, driving right for the tornado, his heart nearly stopped beating right then and there. He yelled your name, desperately trying to get to you. Derek and Luke had to hold him back to keep him inside and safe.

He didn't even realize until that moment how infatuated he'd become with you. You were his dream girl, the one he'd been chasing. And now, you were going to be gone.

You, on the other hand, tried your best not to think about Spencer. It was hard enough leaving him. You felt a connection with him you didn't quite understand, but now was not the time to decode it.

Time felt like it passed by so quickly. The next thing you knew, you were clawing your way outside of the flipped truck. If you were alive, that was a good thing, right? Unless you were dead and you were about to see tornado Jesus right in front of your eyes.

The sunlight hurt, you definitely had some sort of head injury. You reached your hand outside and felt someone grab it. They began to pull you out, another hand grabbing your other arm once your torso was out of the truck.

"Oh my god," You heard Spencer's lovely voice mumble as you finally were freed.

"Is one of you tornado Jesus?" You muttered, blinking back the pain.

A laugh came from Alex, "I thought you were a goner for sure,"

"You did it," Spencer said as he knelt down next to you. "It worked. You fucking did it." His words echoed in your mind as he pulled you into a hug. You didn't even realize you were already hugging back by the time you thought you should. Quickly, you grabbed Spencer's face and pulled him into a kiss.

A howl came from Luke as Spencer pulled back with his gorgeous wide eyes. "We did it."

At your words, Spencer smiled and, this time, pulled you into a kiss. "Okay, back off, let me see my best friend after she almost died." You chucked at Derek's words as he came to hug you, nearly pushing Spencer away. "Never do that again."

"Can't promise that," You chuckled, staring at Spencer over Derek's shoulder as his cheeks warmed at your stare. "Because I think we may just have ourselves a new storm chasing crew." As the group whooped at the victory, you pulled back from Derek and turned to Spencer. "If you feel it..."

"Chase it." Spencer smiled back as he gently set a hand on your face, causing you to smile even wider at your storm-chasing boy.