#but I saw this in the notes and decided to read up

[hrtwayne]

Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part Four]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

It was a Monday morning when Y/n stretched in bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep and her hair a mess. The midfielder had woken up just over ten minutes ago, with the sun not even showing signs of rising yet. The comforting silence was proof that her sister was still asleep and that likely a good portion of the Catalan population was still in bed as well.

She grabbed her phone, which was charging on the nightstand, and saw a few messages. There were texts from Rachel, with reminders about the day’s schedule and some updates on the preparations for the press conference happening later in the week. Y/n quickly replied, confirming that everything was under control. Next, she saw a message from Haley, who was still in London.

Y/n smiled as she read the message. Haley had always been her biggest supporter, even from afar.

After replying to the messages, Y/n stretched again and got out of bed. She had already laid out her training clothes the night before. As she packed her clothes into her bag, her eyes landed on her Adidas cleats, faithful companions in so many matches, and the personalized shin guards her niece had designed. An involuntary smile spread across her face as she remembered little Emma, just two years old, handing her the shin guards as a good luck gift. "Aunt Y/n, you’re going to be the best in the world!" the little girl had said, with the innocence of a child.

Y/n carefully packed everything into her bag, as if preparing a kit for an important mission. She knew the first training session was crucial. Not just to showcase her skills, but also to integrate into the group and earn the coach’s trust.

After carefully organizing her bag, Y/n headed to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, she looked at herself in the mirror, analyzing her reflection. Her hair was a bit messy, but she decided to leave it down for now. There was a determination in her eyes, a mix of nervousness and excitement.

After leaving the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she thought about breakfast. She didn’t want anything heavy, but she knew she needed energy for the training session. She decided on avocado toast, scrambled eggs, and a cup of coffee. As she ate, she mentally reviewed the day’s routine: morning training, lunch at the club, and then a few meetings with the technical team. In the evening, she planned to explore the city with Aliyah.

Before leaving, Y/n wrote a quick note for her sister and stuck it on the fridge.

"Ally, I’ve gone to training. I’ll be back by the end of the day. Call me if you need anything."

She grabbed her sports bag, took one last look around the apartment, and left. The morning sun was already shining in Barcelona, and the fresh air greeted her with a gentle breeze. Y/n walked to the garage where her car had been delivered, tossed her bag onto the passenger seat, and started the car.

The British defender had her back to the door as she rummaged through her bag to pull out her clothes and gear for training. Y/n was so focused that she didn’t hear the loud voices entering the locker room. She was already in the Catalan team’s training kit, holding her cleats, when the voices suddenly fell silent.

Aitana was the first to recognize Y/n, from the last Euros.

"Y/n?", Aitana said, causing the midfielder to turn toward her with a friendly smile." When the news broke that you were coming, I thought it was just rumors."

"Well, you know. It’s hard to be welcomed on a team when you’ve had a fight with the captain," Y/n replied in perfect Catalan, making the other players raise their eyebrows. "And you don’t need to speak English with me; I speak Spanish and Catalan."

"Well, this is Alexia and Vicky," Aitana introduced them, and Y/n quickly shook hands with both.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you," Y/n smiled, noticing Alexia sizing her up.

"Excuse me, Y/n, your fitness coach has arrived and is calling for you on the field," One of the staff members said, and Y/n nodded as she grabbed her cleats.

Y/n quickly said her goodbyes and walked through the training center corridors with the dark-haired girl. She sighed, knowing she would likely get along well with the players.

"Damn it, Hen. I swore you wouldn’t come," Y/n complained, pushing the blond guy.

"I wouldn’t throw you to the wolves like that, Y/n," Henry replied, gently shaking Y/n’s hand." Have you met the girls yet?"

"Hmm, yes," She confirmed, walking alongside the blond through the corridors. "I talked to the captain, Aitana, and Vicky."

"I thought Keira would be the one to introduce you," Henry uncrossed his arms as Y/n finished putting on her cleats. "The coach asked to test your fitness with the starting team. I may have sent him your last training session at Arsenal. He was impressed."

Y/n shrugged, adjusting her cleats before testing the quality of the field. Her eyes met those of one of the players. It was the first time Alexia and Y/n would play together, and they both knew the clash of egos could be a big problem.

"I hope you’re not too old for a few hours of training," Keira appeared beside Y/n, making the midfielder jump in surprise.

"Damn it, Keira," Y/n muttered, placing a hand on her chest.

"I should be the one mad at you. Ten years of friendship, and you don’t even tell me you’re coming here?" Keira said, still with a fake tone of anger.

"It was a surprise to me too," Y/n replied, making it clear it hadn’t entirely been her choice.

"Does this have something to do with your almost-relationship with Leah?" Keira asked.

"Apparently, yes. And you know how the girls sometimes treat Leah’s word as gospel," Y/n shrugged, following the player. "But it’s fine; I needed a fresh start."

The two walked together to the center of the field, where the coach was already gathering the group to start the training session. As the coach explained the day’s exercises, Y/n felt the curious gazes of some of the players. She knew she was the new girl, the foreigner who had arrived with a reputation to prove. But at the same time, she felt welcomed by the smiles and nods from some of them.

The training began with warm-up exercises and short passes. Y/n quickly adapted to the pace, showing the refined technique that had brought her here. Keira, by her side, didn’t miss the chance to crack jokes and keep her relaxed.

"Remember that training session with the under-17 national team, when you fell flat on your face?" Keira said, laughing quietly as they passed the ball to each other.

"Please, don’t bring that up now," Y/n replied, laughing too."I need to maintain my professional image, you know?"

"Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me," Keira teased, sending a precise pass back to Y/n.

As the training progressed, Y/n began to feel more comfortable with her new teammates. The on-field connection with Keira was natural, as it always had been, but she also started building chemistry with other players. Coordinated attacks, precise passes, and communication that flowed better and better. Y/n felt like she was fitting in.

At the end of the session, the coach called the group for a quick talk. He praised the overall performance and gave some individual feedback. When it was Y/n’s turn, he made a brief comment:

"Y/n, you came here with a strong reputation, and today we saw why. Keep working hard and integrating into the team’s style. You have great potential here."

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of pride and relief. She knew there was still a lot of work ahead, but the first step had been taken.

As the players dispersed toward the locker room, Keira slung an arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

"See? I told you you’d do just fine."

"It’s only the first day," Y/n replied, but with a smile on her face. "But yeah, it was good. Really good."

[dustpages]

Mirror

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading and have fun.

I was taking a mirror selfie after a long at work for my current boyfriend. He loved this kind of attention,  espicially with me smirking sexually at the camera.

I was a pro at taking selfies; my focus was drawn to making the perfect facial expression to get him hard with just one photo. 

I was so into the process that I didn’t hear the door opening by my son. 

My bum was poking through my bathrobe, and I was completely naked underneath. He didn’t say anything but lifted the hem of my robe up; his fingers slid down in between my cheeks. 

My son rubbed my bare ass, his small hands massaging my flesh with love.

“Mum, your skin is so soft, your butt so round, and perfect." he praised.

I grinned at him through the mirror. "Keep rubbing it, baby." 

I was pleasantly surprised by his actions; normally he was timid and not a touchy person in the slightest. I rotated my butt around, allowing him to see the front and backside of my pussy.

I was getting very turned on by the intimate massage he was giving me. "Baby, what made you decide to do this?" 

He stared at me through the mirror, his eyes shy but with a hint of determination. "I saw how you act around him, always trying to please him. I was thinking of doing something different, something to make you feel good."

My heart swelled at the thought of my son thinking about how to please me. "Oh, that’s so sweet of you to think of me." 

I turned around and held him; he didn’t pull away from my embrace, his face burrowed into my shoulder. His hand rested on the top of my thigh, the other resting on my shoulder blade. 

I nuzzled my cheek against his forehead. “Did you like rubbing me?"

He mumbled into my shoulder. I couldn’t hear what he said, so I pushed him back a little so I could see his face clearly. "Can you repeat what you said?"

He looked down, and his hands slid to my hips; his fingertips rubbed my hipbone. "You are so beautiful, Mum." He repeated. 

I couldn’t help it and let out a squeal; his compliment went right to my heart. "Thank you." I murmured back to him, the tension was building between us, a newfound intimate energy I never thought I would feel around him.

I cupped his face, making him blush. "May I have the honor to kiss you?" I teased him.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. I took it as a no, but then he lifted his head up to meet my lips. Our lips grazed each other; he had a soft mouth that was still a little bit full from youth. 

I ran my tongue along his bottom lip, pulling him closer so our bodies were flush against each other’s. His hands ran along my lower back and squeezed my ass; I pulled back and held his wrists in a gentle but firm grasp. 

“ Do you like kissing me?" He didn’t answer and instead licked my neck and bit my collarbone; I squealed and smacked him on the chest. "You little scamp." 

He lifted his head and smiled at me, adoration brimming from his eyes. "I love everything about you, Mum."

My heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare. "I love you too." I replied back.

He let go of my hands and slowly slid off my robe that was bunched up around my waist. It pooled at my feet; my naked body was presented before him. His eyes  were filled with hunger, as he scanned me from head to toe. 

I stepped back and spread my legs, the cool air caused my pussy to pucker. His gaze fell on the strip of hair and wetness in between my thighs; the tip of his tongue peeked out and licked his lips. 

“May I please lick you there?" he asked as he pointed to my pussy. 

My pussy clenched at his suggestion. "Of course you can, baby." I urged him forward.

He dropped to his knees and grabbed hold of my hips. His breath fanned over my sensitive area; he blew on it gently, causing me to moan.

“Can you keep your mouth open? It felt really good when you did that." I encouraged him. 

He opened his mouth wider so I could feel a stream of warm air flowing over my pussy. "Like this, Mum?" he asked in a muffled voice. 

"Yes, baby." I breathed.

He dipped his head closer and licked the entire length of my slit. His tongue parted my folds and dragged itself over my clit; I jerked at the sudden contact.

“Oh, baby." I gasped. I ran my hands through his hair; the strands fell in a silky curtain across my fingers.

His tongue explored my pussy further, licking and swirling over my entrance. He licked my taint, then back up to the top. His head lifted up, and he stared at me with hooded eyes; his pupils were dark with lust. 

"I’m going to make you cum with just my tongue, Mum." He promised as he plunged his tongue inside me.

I gasped and arched my back; his tongue felt amazing inside me; it curled and probed into the depths of my pussy. He wiggled it around and moved his head side to side as he licked me.

I pulled his hair gently to bring his tongue to my clit. I couldn't take it anymore, he was too good. "I'm going to cum, baby." I warned him.

He looked up at me with a wicked grin; his eyes shone with pride. He lifted up his head and stuck his tongue out; it was dripping with my juices. I put my hands behind his head and rode his tongue. I felt a wave of pleasure crash over me; my pussy spasmed and clenched around his tongue.

I collapsed back, panting heavily. His arms went around my waist, and he pressed his face into my stomach. I rubbed his head and ran my fingers through his hair. "You were so good, baby; I love you." 

"I love you too, Mum." He smiled at me.

We stayed like that for a while, basking in the pleasure he gave me. "Would you like to try your dick inside me?" I offered him. 

He bit his lip and nodded enthusiastically.

We went to my bedroom, and he pulled his clothes off; his shaft was perfect for my idea of a man's cock. It was quite long and thick enough to make me have a good time. 

I made him lie on the bed, legs wide open. I began kissing his legs from his toes up to his knees. My hands massaged his thighs and calves; I heard him groan under my touch.

I sat on his thighs and rubbed myself against his dick. His hands went to grab my hips, but I swatted him away. "No touching, just let me do this, baby." I instructed him. 

His arms fell to his sides as he watched me rub my pussy against his shaft. The friction of my wet pussy sliding against him was turning me on again; I could feel myself getting wetter.

I lined his head up against my pussy and slowly lowered myself down. I gripped his shoulders; I took my time sinking down on his length. His cock was long enough to reach the back of my pussy and stretch me out.

I moaned and grinded on him; his cock felt amazing inside of me. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he groaned at the feel of my pussy around him. I was dripping wet for him, coating his dick with my juices. 

I found a rhythm and rode him harder; my hips bucked faster as I rode him. He moaned and begged me to go harder.

His pleading caused my pussy to clench around him; I started riding him faster.

"Oh fuck, you're so fucking tight." He grunted.

My breath got stuck in my throat when he asserted that; it sounded dirty and sexy coming from his mouth. "Say that again." I ordered him.

He nodded enthusiastically. "You're so fucking tight, Mum, fuck, you’re amazing."

I groaned at his words and slammed down hard on his dick. He grunted in response, his fingers dug into my hips and thighs.

My orgasm started to build up, my pussy clenched, and my walls started pulsating around him. " I’m gonna cum again baby." I warned him. 

"Cum all over me, Mum, please," he begged me. 

My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. I slumped over his body, my limbs feeling boneless. My pussy spasmed and clenched down on him, causing him to gasp.

I heard his breath catch; I looked down and saw his face was red and sweaty. His eyes were closed as he groaned loudly, his hands tightened around my waist. 

He grunted as his dick started to twitch inside of me; I felt a surge of hot liquid shoot into me. His cum was hot against my walls, I let out a satisfied sigh as I felt him fill me up.

I lay on his chest and ran my fingers along his neck and jaw. His arms circled around me, holding me close to his warm body. 

We stayed like that for a long time; both of us were satisfied in the aftermath of sex. He stroked my hair and back; I nuzzled deeper into his embrace.

"Am I better than your boyfriend?" he inquired, putting me in a vulnerable position.

I sighed and bit my lip. I had to answer truthfully. "You did fantastic cutie pie, for your first time; but you can't compare yourself with Yuki."

The latter has been my boyfriend for the last six months; he is everything a woman can look up to. He has the body of a god, tall and lean with well-defined muscles. His hair is dark brown and slicked back, not to mention his 10 inches of full glory.

My baby scoffed; his teeth grazed along my shoulder as he nibbled my skin. I felt a shiver, and goosebumps broke out at his touch. " I don't believe you." he affirmed playfully. 

"Should I invite him over and make you testify to what he can do to me?" I dared him.

"Oh please do it, I'm not afraid," he replied back with the confidence gained after our incercourse. 

I smiled as I looked down at him; my mind was working overdrive at the prospect of how he would have reacted to see his mother getting fucked like a cheap prostitute. Either it would have turned him on more than he would have liked to admit, or it would have caused severe problems. Either way, he asked for it.

I pulled myself up and sat cross-legged in front of him. My hand ran along his dick and stroked it gently. His eyes closed at my touch, his hand cupped my breast and played with my nipple.

"Maybe we can plan this for the weekend; I can get Yuki to come over to us." I suggested him.

"Why not tonight?" he questioned. 

I bit my lip and considered it. "Tonight, I am all yours; you can fuck my brains out again and again."

He beamed at me and pulled me to him. I smiled at him as we cuddled together, my head rested on his shoulder. My hand played with the sparse hair on his chest as we drifted off to sleep. 

It wasn't until later that evening that I started thinking about what he had said about my current boyfriend. That maybe he was better for me than Yuki. I shook my head, of course it was a silly idea. Yuki and I have been together for six months now, and he has proved himself, especially in bed. 

But in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but feel a little bit of doubt creeping in.

Friday night, the night where  my boyfriend Yuki was supposed to come over.

 My baby and I were sitting on the sofa watching TV; he was still playing with my breast. His fingers had been all over me since that day in the bathroom. I didn't mind; he was my son, and I wanted him to feel comfortable around me.

I looked at the time on my phone; I had to get ready for the night. "I have to get ready, cutie." I whispered to him.

I got up and went to my bathroom; he followed behind me. I took off the bathrobe I was wearing and started to get ready in the shower.

I could see him through the glass of the shower stall, staring at me. His hand had a tight grip around his dick as he rubbed himself off. His mouth was open and his eyes were dark with hunger for me.

I didn't have much time to get ready before my boyfriend would arrive at any moment. I dried myself and put on a pair of black stockings and a pair of black stilettos with a white silky robe to cover it.

I came back to the sofa where my baby was eating some biscuits; crumbs were falling from his mouth as he chewed. I picked one of them up and placed it on the tip of his nose. He grinned at me as he wiped it off.

A loud ring from my doorbell made him stop.

I pecked him on his cheek and stood up. "That must be Yuki." I noted as I walked away.

I opened the door to find my boyfriend standing in front of me, looking like a god with his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. He smiled at me and stepped inside.

"Hey babe, you look sexy tonight," he stated as he wrapped his arms around me. 

His hands groped my ass, and his lips met mine in a wet and sloppy kiss. His tongue probed into my mouth, his dick pressed against my leg.

I pushed him away, my heart beating wildly. "We have a guest, Yuki." 

He raised his eyebrow, and his arm slung over my shoulder. "Who?"

I led him to the sofa, where my baby sat staring at us. His eyes dark with something I couldn't explain. It could have been anger, lust, or jealousy. Maybe all the things combined.

Yuki stiffened up beside me, his hand tightening around my shoulder. "That's not your son, is it?"

I smiled at Yuki and nodded. "Yes, it is."

Yuki stepped in front of me and glared at my son. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else, like your room or something?"

My baby snorted and stood up. He went to stand in front of us and held Yuki's eyes with a smirk. "I do live here; if you aren't pleased with my presence, you can leave."

Yuki narrowed his eyes at my son. "How dare you, you brat."

My son scoffed at Yuki. "What are you going to do about it?"

Yuki's hands tightened into fists, and he gritted his teeth. "That's it, you little piece of shit."

Before I could intervene, Yuki stepped forward and grabbed my son by the collar. He lifted him up like he weighed nothing, his feet dangling off the ground.

My son struggled. I made my move and pressed my body on Yuki's back, my hands gripping around his waist. I pressed my face into his back and moaned. 

"Let go of him, Yuki."

His body stiffened up at my voice, his grip around my son's collar loosened. My son took the opportunity and jumped back onto the sofa.

Yuki turned around, and his fingers undid the knot of my robe. It pooled around my feet as he cupped my breasts and sucked on my nipples. I groaned and ran my hands down his back, feeling his muscles through his shirt.

"Bedroom." I instructed; my son stood up and followed us, never leaving me with his eyes.

I felt Yuki's hot breath on my ear as he kissed his way up my neck; his hand gripped my ass and kneaded the soft skin. His teeth bit down on my neck gently as he pulled me to my bedroom.

Yuki deposited me on the bed and undid his belt. I could see my son's reflection in the mirror behind Yuki; he had an intense gaze as he watched us.

"Lie down and spread your legs." Yuki ordered. 

I obeyed him and let my thighs fall apart. His hands pushed them further apart, exposing my pussy to his view.

His hand covered my pussy as he took place on the bed in front of me. His mouth kissed my inner thighs, making me moan and wriggle on the bed.

His mouth closed around my pussy; his tongue swirled and licked me. My son stepped beside the bed, his gaze getting darker as the minutes passed. Yuki moaned into my pussy; my hand grabbed hold of his head and pulled him closer.

Yuki sucked and licked my pussy furiously, my orgasm built up fast. His name fell out of my mouth as I came hard, my pussy clenching down on his tongue. 

It swirled around and lapped up my juices; he pressed a kiss on my pussy. I heard my son groaning from beside the bed; my hand stretched to grab his, and my thumb caressed his palm, soothing his stress out.

"Stay here and watch me." I instructed my son. 

I pulled myself off the bed and stood up. My gaze found Yuki's reflection in the mirror; his lips and chin were wet with my juices. He gave me a lazy grin as he leaned against the bedpost, his arms crossed on his chest.

"Should I return the favor?" I purred.

He smiled and nodded. I crawled on the bed in front of him and gripped his cock with my mouth. I sucked on the head and then took him fully in my mouth, sucking hard to get him hard for me.

He moaned and caressed my hair, pushing it to the side so he could see his cock being sucked by my mouth. His hips jerked as he thrust his cock inside my mouth; I gagged on it.

He pulled back and then shoved his cock back inside my mouth. My fingers dug into his thighs as he started to fuck my face; his thrusts were slow but deep. 

"That's it, babe, suck it like a good girl," he grunted.

I sucked and licked him eagerly, saliva running down my chin. I was choking on him, but he didn't care as he grabbed a fistful of my hair. He pulled back and let out a breath as he stared down at me.

His cock was hard and red, dripping with saliva. I swallowed around his shaft as I sucked him again; his hips jerked, and he let out a loud moan. 

Yuki smirked at me and pushed his cock down my throat; his balls hit my chin as he bottomed out. His hand tightened on my hair as he started to choke me with his dick.

"That's right, babe, choke on it." Yuki grunted. 

My eyes were watering; my throat was burning. He pulled back and rubbed his cock on my face. My mouth was drooling saliva on the floor; Yuki groaned and pulled me up.

He pressed his lips on mine, and we shared a sloppy kiss; his hands kneaded my ass as I wrapped my legs around his waist. His cock brushed against my pussy, causing both of us to groan.

He laid me down on the bed and pushed my legs up to my chest. His cock lined up with my entrance; all his ten inches went in in one stroke.

I let out a pained groan, his length and girth stretching me out widely. I loved the way he filled me up, making me feel whole. My hands rubbed down his back and clutched him to me.

He thrust inside me slowly and deeply; his moans joined mine as we fucked each other.

Yuki kissed me again and then moved down to my neck and licked along the curve of my shoulder. His thrusts sped up as he fucked me harder, his balls slapped against my ass with every thrust.

"Fuck yes, baby, you feel so tight and warm." He groaned against my neck.

My orgasm built up; my pussy was clenching around him. His cock was stretching me so good. "Make me cum." I begged.

He just had to give me a few more thrusts to make me shudder. I clutched his shoulders as my orgasm took over, my pussy spasming and squeezing him tight.

He continued his duty, pounding me in the earnest with no sign of slowing down; his hands gripped my thighs and pushed them wider apart. His moans got louder as he grunted with each thrust, his breathing heavy against my ear.

He reached a hand between our bodies and found my clit. He rubbed it in circles; his thumb massaged the nub with firm pressure.

"That's right, baby, cum for me.” he grunted pinching my clit and rubbing it. 

A wave of pleasure crashed over me; my pussy pulsed and spasmed around him as my second orgasm of the night hit me since he had entered me with his meat.

My son was leaning in, watching me with a mixture of lust and anger in his eyes. I opened my mouth and licked my lips, giving him a wink as Yuki pulled out of me.

"Time for you to do a bit of work," he affirmed, lying on the mattress. Before I kept going with him, I leaned towards my son, giving him a heated kiss. He moaned in my mouth and clutched my head to his chest, his tongue curling around mine.

I had to break the kiss; Yuki was calling my attention back. I pushed his legs apart and licked his balls and cock; I was dripping with saliva as he pushed my head down on his dick. I gagged and choked on the length, my fingers wrapped around the base. 

I sucked him faster; my head bobbed up and down his length. He was getting harder and thicker in my mouth; it felt amazing. My teeth grazed along his sensitive flesh as I sucked on his head.

"You're such a slut for my cock, aren't you?" Yuki praised me. 

I nodded and let out a moan, my pussy clenched at his dirty words. His hand tightened in my hair as he pulled me off him; his cock was dripping with my saliva. 

He flipped me over on my stomach and lined up his cock with my pussy. He entered me in one thrust, all of his 10 inches filling me to the brim.

I gasped as his cock stretched me, his length pushed against the back of my pussy. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he bit my skin gently. "You're so fucking tight, I'm going to cum hard."

I nodded and encouraged him to keep fucking me; his thrusts started again and went faster. The sound of his balls slapping against my ass echoed in the room. 

My pussy clenched around him as I felt my fourth orgasm of the night; my pussy spasmed and squeezed him tight. My thighs trembled, and my moan was muffled by the pillow.

Yuki groaned, his thrusts getting faster and more desperate. I felt his cock twitching and jerking inside me, he grunted out as he came hard inside me. His cum sprayed and coated my insides; he gasped and held me tight.

"Oh fuck." He breathed into my neck; his cum overflowed from my pussy and dripped on the bed sheets.

I nodded in agreement; his orgasm was mind-blowing; it was hard to compare to the feeling he gave me. He pulled out slowly and leaned beside me.

His finger parted my pussy lips and rubbed his cum inside me. "You're leaking all over the bed, you filthy slut," he chided. 

I gave him a lazy smile; his hand wiped his cum off my thighs. He put his digits over my mouth so that I could lick them clean. My tongue darted out and licked his fingers; he let out a satisfied moan.

I looked at the watch on my nightstand; we have banged for more than an hour now. 

"Tired?" Yuki asked. 

I was sore from the pounding feast, but I wouldn't sound the wimpy card. I shook my head. "I can go on for longer." 

Yuki chuckled; his dick got back in full glory in a matter of minutes. "Ride me, show me what you got," he dared me. 

I grinned; it sounded like a good opportunity to prove my skills. My body crawled over his; my knees went on either side of his thighs. My pussy lips parted, and my juices dripped on his cock. I aligned his head with my hole and sank down slowly.

He groaned as he entered me, his head hitting the back of my pussy in the same moment. My eyes rolled back in my head at the feeling of him filling me so perfectly.

"Oh god, you're so big." I moaned as I settled on his dick. 

His hands cupped my ass and pulled me closer. I leaned over him and kissed him, our tongues dancing around each other’s.

With the corner of my eyes, I spotted my son rubbing his eyes, my pure creature; he was so adorable when he was jealous. 

I began to ride him, my pussy clenched down on him as I slid up and down his cock. He moaned in approval, his fingers dug into my hip bones.

"That's it, babe, show me your skills." He praised me. 

My hips started to buck harder, my ass slapped on his thighs with each thrust. I was making him feel so good; his fingers tightened on my hips. 

"Mum, please stop." My son's voice cut through the room; I diverted my look towards him. It was poignant seeing him crying over what was happening.

"What is it, cutie?" I stopped my actions and held his gaze, Yuki's cock was still buried deep inside me.

" I hate all of this." he asserted. I would have loved to jump over him and hug him, but Yuki prevented my actions. The two of them clearly hadn't clicked in the slightest.

He made me lie flat on his body again and took me roughly; his thrusts began to take over my thoughts. 

I squealed as his monster dick plowed me in the earnest; I sunk my nails in his shoulders and clutched at him.

"Ohh, oh god, it feels so fucking good." I screamed out loud. His length was stretching my pussy widely, and he was fucking me like he owned me. His hands were still clutched around my hips as he held me in place. He fucked me hard; his balls slapped my ass, and I could hear the sound of it echoing in the room.

"Mum, please." My son repeated himself; I was at a loss for words to soothe him.

Yuki pinched my chin and made me hold his gaze. "Don't mind him; focus on me," he ordered.

I nodded and held his gaze. His lips were hot against mine as we kissed each other with all the passion we had in our bodies. 

I gave in, cumming for the umpteenth time; I was pretty sure that he wasn't going to be finished anytime soon. We kept going for only God knew how much; he got me to cum again and again.

My son had his head down on the edge of the bed as he watched us in horror. "Baby, let me finish, and then I'll take care of you." I promised as I kissed his head.

He didn't answer me back; Yuki fucked me like he wanted to kill my pussy with his 10-inch monster dick. His grip on my ass and legs was bruising me; I welcomed every touch.

My last orgasm was the most intense one; my pussy clenched and spasmed so hard I almost lost my breath. 

"I'm close, babe," he announced as he pumped into me harder. 

"Fill me up, please." I begged. 

He smirked. "Convince me," he dared me.

I whined in annoyance at his antics; we had gone in for a lot; it wasn't time to be playing. "Just cum already." I scowled at him. 

I ground down on him as he thrust into me; our movements became wilder and sloppy. He grunted, and I heard his breath hitch.  I felt him twitching inside of me. 

"I'm going to fill your pussy up now," he warned me.

His words sent me over the edge again as I felt his cock spray hot cum in me. I clenched around it tightly and moaned loudly.

"Ohhh yesss, give me all you have." I praised him as he kept filling me up.

Yuki pulled out of me slowly and collapsed beside me, his breathing heavy. I cuddled in his arms and ran my fingers down his chest. I felt relaxed and sated; my body was sore but in a good way.

"Have I proven my point now?" he asked as he kissed the top of my head.

"What was your point?" I murmured against his chest.

"That I can do better than him." He pointed out towards my son.

I lifted my head and looked at him with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

He chuckled and put his mouth next to my ear. "That I can fuck you better than he does." 

I gasped; he was right; my son had been amazing, but it was nothing compared to what I felt just now. 

"That's not true." I denied.

"Of course it is; don't be shy to admit it," he challenged. 

I looked at my son through the corner of my eyes; his expression was pained as he listened to our conversation. I got out of Yuki's hold and got up. 

His cock was spent, but it still looked magnificent in my eyes. He smirked as I stared at him. "It will be back in full glory in no time; just give me a few minutes." He boasted.

I ignored him and went to my son; he still had tears running down his cheeks. I cupped his cheeks and made him look up at me. "What's wrong, baby? Did you not enjoy the show?"

He looked at me with hate; it anguished me to see him like that. "Am I not enough for you?" he asked.

His question startled me; it made me question what he had really seen tonight. "Of course you are, baby; it's just that..." I stopped myself and sighed.

I didn't have the words to answer him; I didn't want to hurt him more than he was already hurt.

"Spill the tea; you can't hurt me more than I already am," he stated poignantly and honestly.

I had to tell him there was no other choice. I cupped his face in my hands and took a deep breath. "Yuki is better than you." 

He stiffened up, and his expression went cold. "I knew it." 

I sighed as I put my head on his shoulder. "You can't deny it, baby; you have been wonderful, but you can't compare to him."

I could feel his breath catch, and his arms pulled me away from his body. 

"Little shits like you should learn to stay in their places." Yuki mocked him from the bed. 

I turned my gaze to my boyfriend glaring. "Shut your mouth." I ordered him. 

He smirked; he was getting on my nerves tonight. I looked at my son, and his cold expression made me worried.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" I asked.

"He is just a tosser, who won't get any pussy in his life." Yuki mocked. 

My son got hurt by those words; I could see him falling apart.

"Stop saying things like that; it's enough." I admonished him. He didn't reply, instead he looked at my son with disgust.

"I'm baffled that someone like you is in a relationship with a piece of shit like him," my son cried out. 

It was my moral duty to protect my son from everything that life could have thrown at him, including my boyfriend.

"Yuki, that's enough." I growled. 

He scowled and got up from the bed, approaching us menacing. "I don't let anyone insult me and get away with it."

He kicked my son right in the stomach, making him fall to the floor. "No, stop it." I got on Yuki and tried to pry him from my son. 

I knew he had a temper but never like this. My son was curled up in a ball as Yuki kicked him hard. "You little scum, you won't ever be man enough for her."

"You have done enough." I slapped him as hard as I could, the sound ringing through the room. His head turned back, and he stared at me with shock.

He glared at me but let go of my son. I fell on my knees and cupped his face. "Are you ok, baby?" 

He nodded weakly, tears falling down his cheeks. I scooped him up in my arms and rocked him gently. "Shhh, it's going to be alright; he is not a good person."

Yuki sneered at us from the corner of the room. " So what? Are you going to leave me now?"

"Very much so, you did the only thing that could make me do it." I glared at him. 

He snorted and took his things from the floor. I could hear his mocking laughter as he got dressed. My son is still in my arms, staring down.

"It's your loss, Nayeon; I can find another bitch that wants to be fucked by me," he taunted as he went out of the room.

I stared after him for a few seconds, my heart beating wildly. My son looked at me. "Are you alright, Mum?"

" Yeah baby." I assured him. "We are going to take a bath together; are you ok with it?"

He seemed reluctant at the idea for a second but nodded. I carried him to the bathroom and got into the tub with him. I held him in my arms as we let the warm water soak our bodies; I felt better with my baby against me.

"Cutie pie, do you want me to help you out?" I had noticed his dick getting hard from our skinship.

My hand reached down, he held my wrist blocking it. "Leave it alone, for tonight it seems to me you have already made enough mistakes." 

I winced at his words and sighed; he was right. My mind was a mess with what I had to deal with now.

We got out of the tub and put our clothes on, he looked so cute in the t-shirt and underwear I gave him. 

"Let me fix you some food." I suggested.

He nodded and followed me to the kitchen; he sat on the counter, watching me prepare the meal. We didn't speak, but the silence between us wasn't uncomfortable in any way.

After dinner he sat on my lap, his head resting on my shoulder. I kissed him on the head and ran my finger through his hair. His arms wrapped around me, hugging me tightly.

"Mum," he murmured.

"Yes, baby?" I hummed back. 

He lifted his head and held my gaze; he seemed hesitant about something. "My bad for having refrained you from pleasuring me before; I still had the image of you and your ex together imprinted on my mind," he explained. "But I'm getting better at staying close to you now." 

I smiled at him; his words warmed my heart. He leaned his head against my shoulder, and I kissed it again. "You are so sweet, baby."

He shifted position, facing me, and my hands pulled him into a deep kiss. His hands grabbed my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss. His tongue curled around mine; our kiss was deep and passionate.

"Mum." He whispered against my lips.

I pulled back and held his gaze. "What is it?"

"Your lips are so addictive; kiss me like you mean it," he exhorted me. 

My cheeks flushed at his words; I couldn't help myself and pressed my lips against his. "Like this baby?" I purred. 

His fingers caressed the back of my neck and pulled me deeper. "Mhmm, perfect." 

I laughed at his moan and deepened our kiss; my hands grabbed his ass and squeezed it. He jumped up into my arms, wrapping his legs around my waist. I carried him to his bedroom, still kissing each other. 

We plopped on the bed and sneaked under the duvet; he stationed above my body, and our tongues danced a tango of their own. His dick was hard against my stomach as we made out.

"Cutie pie, I think your dick wants more." I stated against his lips. 

"Even if you are turning me on terrifically, I prefer to wait till I'm feeling better." 

I pouted; it was my fault, and I deserved it. He leaned on his elbow and gazed at me; his dark eyes were so intense and captivating.

"If you want, I can eat you out, but nothing more," he offered. 

I bit my lip and considered his proposition; his mouth would feel amazing on me. 

"Would you do that?" I asked him.

He nodded as he pulled the duvet down and sat between my legs. "Let me feast on you, Mum." his voice was hoarse with lust. 

He kissed my inner thighs and then lapped at my pussy. His tongue parted my folds and swirled my clit. I arched my back off the mattress at the sensation. 

"You're so fucking good at this." I complimented. 

He looked up at me with a smirk. His fingers spread my pussy open and his tongue thrust inside of me; it felt like heaven having his tongue inside me.

"Oh shit, it's too much." I panted as he flicked his tongue around my walls. 

He pulled back and looked at me with confusion, his mouth dripping with my juices. "Is anything wrong?"

I shook my head, I just had to get used to the sensation. "Keep going, baby."

I watched him go back to work, his tongue was swiveling and licking me in perfect rhythm. His fingers spread me open and played with my pussy. His finger rubbed on my clit and pushed two inside of me.

My pussy clenched around his fingers as his tongue licked on my pussy. I felt his teeth gently grazing my clit; it was too much. I came hard with his fingers and tongue inside of me; my thighs were shaking as the pleasure crashed over me.

"Mmhm, so good." I praised him. 

His mouth moved up my body, kissing and licking every inch of me. He licked my nipples and kissed my neck. His tongue lapped at my mouth, and our tongues swirled together as we kissed again.

He snuggled into my embrace, and I rocked him like I would a child. He looked up at me with adoring eyes and kissed my lips softly.

"Mum, it seems to me that I'm quite effectively on your body," he teased.

" You don't even know how much." I reciprocated the kiss.

For the rest of the night we enjoyed our slumber, sharing the heat of our bodies. We woke up early in the morning for breakfast, his hand was wrapped around mine as we walked to the kitchen. 

We got ready for work, and I gave him a peck on the cheek. "Have a good day, baby."

"You too, Mum. See you later." He smiled and kissed my cheek back. 

I watched him walking out of the door; he looked so hot in his work uniform. His black coat hugged his shoulders well; his trousers clung to his ass and thighs. He waved back at me and disappeared around the corner.

I took the decision to get rid of all the clothes and pieces of jewelry Yuki had ever bought me; they would have been a constant reminder of the moment he kicked my son and insulted him. I was going to make myself a nice day with my son tonight, and nothing would ruin it for me.

I came home first; I had the idea of taunting my son so much he would have no choice but to take me on my desk. I knew him and his limits too well; I knew how much he hated being teased and pushed away. I wanted to see him lose control over himself and his senses.

I locked the door behind me and started undressing, letting all my clothes fall to the floor.

My bra got unhooked and my panties fell to my ankles; I kicked them away and stood there in my bare glory. My hands ran down my body and played with my tits, squeezing and pulling my nipples.

I proceeded to my office room and sat on my presidential chair, playing with myself. As the clock ticked closer to my son's arrival time, my anticipation grew. I got up and went to sit at my desk, spreading my legs wide.

I heard the sound of the key turning in the lock and the door opening. His footsteps echoed in the hallway; they were getting closer.

I could hear him breathing heavily as he walked inside my office. 

"Mum, I need to talk with you.” he exclaimed as he approached.

I turned my head and gave him a sultry grin. "Come here, baby, and we can talk." 

He blushed and came to stand before me; his hands gripped my thighs and pulled me closer to the edge. My legs went around his waist, and I hugged him tighter.

"What is it, baby? Don't you want to see your mother naked?" I asked as I ran my hands down his chest.

He stared at me, his face reddening in embarrassment. "Yes, it's not that," he countered as he stared at my tits.

I bit my lips as I leaned towards him, licking his lips softly. "Don't you want to kiss me? You said you were better." I taunted him. 

He groaned and pulled me off the desk; his lips crashed with mine. My tits were squashed against his chest as he pinned me down on the desk. His kisses were fiery and demanding, his tongue curling around mine.

I rubbed my pussy on his thigh and moaned. "That feels amazing." I hummed. 

He pulled his mouth off mine and looked down at me with lust. "You are teasing me again, aren't you?" he growled.

I shook my head in denial; his glare cut through me. He turned me around; his hands grabbed my hips and pulled my ass up to him. His hands slapped my ass and made me cry out.

"Don't tease me again; don't do that," he warned.

I nodded and bit my lip; his cock was hard and pressing against my ass. His hands rubbed my ass cheek and then spread it wide. He leaned in and licked my pussy from behind; I moaned at the sensation.

His mouth closed on my pussy and sucked hard, his tongue licking and swirling around. My moans echoed in the room, my toes curled as I felt my orgasm building up.

His tongue pushed inside my pussy, making me cum hard. His hand muffled my scream, and he licked my juices clean. 

His finger rubbed my clit as his mouth closed on it again; I came a second time in his mouth. My pussy clenched around him as he licked me clean.

"You feel so good, Mum," he praised me. 

I nodded and leaned back against him; he rubbed my stomach and back as I panted for breath. His cock was still hard against my ass.

"Maybe I should suck you off; would you like that, baby?" I teased him. 

I felt him shudder against me, his hands tightening on my body. He kissed my spine and moved to my neck, licking and kissing my skin.

"You're so naughty," he muttered. 

I turned around and leaned into his arms; his lips kissed me deeply. His hands cupped my ass and lifted me up in the air.

I wrapped my legs around him, and he carried me to the sofa, laying me down. His hand spread my legs wide, his dick pressed against my pussy.

"Look what you have done to me," he grumbled as he rubbed his cock against my pussy lips.

"You can just fill me up and calm yourself." I stated with a smirk.

He growled and rubbed himself again on my pussy lips; my juices ran down on my thighs as he did that. He pushed his cock inside of me slowly, filling me with all his inches.

"That feels so good; fill me up, baby." I moaned.

His moans joined mine as he started to thrust inside me. His pace was slow and deep, his balls slapping on my ass as he fucked me. My hands scratched on the sofa, and I writhed under him.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted as he pushed into me harder.

"Your dick feels amazing inside of me." I complimented him.

His hand came up to squeeze my tit and pulled on my nipple. "You love being fucked like a little whore," he stated.

I moaned at his words and nodded. "I do, please fill me up more, baby." 

His hands lifted my legs in the air and bent my knees; he pulled out and pushed into my pussy with more force. His thrusts were hard and fast; I gasped at the feeling of him filling me so deep.

His hand rubbed my clit with vigor, making me see the stars. My orgasm crashes over me, my pussy clenching down on him. He cursed as my pussy spasmed around him, milking his cock for his cum.

"Fuck, you're cumming," he grunted.

I nodded; my pussy was squeezing him tight and hard. He gasped, and his cock twitched inside of me; he filled me with his cum. My pussy was overflowing with his seed. 

" Fuck I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to cum in you," he apologized.

I patted his back as he pulled out of me, his cum dripping from my pussy to the sofa. "It's fine, baby." I assured. 

I got up and sat on the desk; he understood what I wanted and knelt in front of me. His mouth closed over my pussy and licked my juices and his cum clean.

"Mmmm, delicious," he hummed as he kissed my pussy. 

I cupped his head and pulled him closer; I could feel him stiffening again. His lips were hot against my skin as he licked and kissed me.

The doorbell rang as I was getting back into the mood; he cursed and got up. 

"I'll get it," he said as he left the room.

I didn't follow him as I heard him talking with the delivery man. He came back inside the office holding a box of pizza; he put it on the table and came back in between my legs.

"We are going to heat it up later; now you are more important," he told me as he parted my legs.

His head leaned in and started to lick my pussy; I moaned and held his head tight. He licked and sucked on my pussy, his fingers playing with my clit.

"That feels good, baby; please don't stop." I begged. 

He pulled off my pussy and smirked. "Beg me properly," he dared. 

My fingers tightened on his head. "Please suck my pussy, please." I pleaded.

He smirked and put his mouth back on me, licking and sucking my pussy. His fingers pushed inside of me and hooked upwards, hitting my spot.

My orgasm took me by surprise as it washed over me. His mouth sucked me dry and then licked my juices.

He moved his shaft against my folds without pushing in. His dick was hot against me, I whined in frustration.

"Please, fill me." I begged.

He chuckled and pushed inside me, his length stretching me and filling me to the brim. His hands gripped my hips, and he held me down on his shaft.

"You are going to take all of it, you hear," he growled. 

I moaned as he thrust inside of me hard and deep; my pussy took all of his length. His moans joined mine, the sound echoing in the room. 

His thrusts were harder and wilder than before, making me scream out his name. My thighs were trembling and my nails scratched the wood of the table. 

His fingers pinched my nipple, and his mouth sucked on it, his moans vibrating on my skin. His thrust got more desperate as I squeezed my pussy tight.

"Oh baby, you are going to make me cum," he grunted. 

"Fill me up, please." I begged again.

His cock twitched inside me, and he gasped out my name. His cock filled me with his seed; I moaned out in pleasure as his cum overflowed from me. His dick stayed hard in my pussy as we panted for breath.

His kiss was hot and deep on my lips, his hands running down my spine to my ass.

I purred as he pulled out, his cum dripping down my thighs. "Bend over this beautiful desk," he demanded of me. 

I did as he told me, putting my hands on the wood and bending over. His hands spread my ass cheeks wide, his fingers pushing inside my pussy.

His head dipped down and his tongue licked my pussy, drinking all his cum. His fingers moved in and out of my pussy, his mouth licking and sucking on my clit.

My orgasm built up as I felt him pushing more fingers inside me. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?" he asked.

I nodded, my walls clenched around his fingers. His head looked up at me as he continued to lick me. "Say it," he ordered.

" I'm going to cum baby." I admitted as my orgasm took over, my pussy spasming and squeezing his fingers. 

His tongue and fingers didn't stop as he licked my pussy and rubbed my walls. My second orgasm hit me as I shuddered under him.

I collapsed on the desk as his fingers pulled out of my pussy. He kissed the back of my knees and rubbed my legs softly. I watched him through my eyelashes; he seemed lost in his thoughts. His dick was still hard and dripping with my juice. 

He looked down at me and smirked as I rubbed my tits on his cock. " Do you have more energy for round three, mum?" he teased.

I smirked back and nodded, "I always have energy for my baby." I teased back. "Would he be brave enough to take my ass like my boyfriend should do?"

He smacked my ass cheeks. "So now I am your boyfriend, huh?" he questioned.

I shrugged; his hands rubbed my ass. "Are you not?" I asked back. 

His face was so adorable in thought, his fingers played with my ass cheeks. I could see his mind working on a decision. His hands closed around my waist and turned me around to face him; his cock was still hard and leaking. He rubbed it on my pussy lips, making me moan.

"Daddy, stop making me wait." I complained in a high-pitched tone, cringing within myself.

His expression hardened. "What did you just say?" he asked in a low tone. 

"I said, stop teasing me." I denied. 

He slapped my ass, and I whimpered. "Tell me again what you said," he asked again.

I blushed and looked down at the floor. "Daddy, please stop making me wait." 

He lifted my face up with his finger, his eyes looking into mine. "How many times do I have to ask you the same thing?" he chastised.

"Sorry, Daddy," I answered.

"You better be," he warned as he turned me around and bent me over the desk. He spanked my ass again, making me squeal.

He rubbed the sore spot and soothed me. "This time it's my turn to tease you," he murmured.

"Yes, Daddy," I replied. 

His hand spread my ass wide, and his cock pressed against my pussy. "Do you know how bad you make me feel? Do you know how much I want to fuck your ass?" He growled in my ear.

I nodded with my eyes closed; his breath was hot on my neck. He kissed and licked my spine, making me shudder with lust.

He wetted my rim with his saliva and pushed his pinky inside my ass; I gasped as he stretched me. "Breathe, breathe," he murmured.

He gave me time to get adjusted, then he moved his finger in and out. My walls clenching around it, the feeling was different from before. 

"That's good, baby." He praised me as he added a second finger. I gasped and shuddered as I got stretched wider. He fucked my ass slowly with his fingers; his tongue licked my rim.

"I need your dick." I whined.

His mouth sucked on the back of my neck, and his fingers moved harder. "Don't worry, baby, I'll take care of you," he assured me. 

He pulled out his fingers and rubbed my hole with his dickhead. I gasped at the sensation of him pressing on my rim, I was nervous of what he was going to do.

"Push back on me; it will help," he instructed. 

I did as he said and pushed back; his head entered me slowly. I felt him stretching me; I had never felt such a pleasure pain before.

His breath was hitching as he entered me slowly, his length filling me completely. He held himself there for a few minutes, letting me get adjusted. His hands ran on my back and down my ass.

His mouth kissed my neck as he leaned in on me, making me feel safe. "Mum, just give it a go, and I'll make you feel good," he assured.

I nodded; his head went back, and he pulled out slowly. He groaned as my walls clenched down on him; my ass was already feeling the pain of being stretched.

He thrust back inside of me faster this time, making me cry out. His hand covered my mouth to muffle my screams; his thrusts got harder and wilder.

His fingers rubbed my rim and played with my clit; I was cumming again on his dick. His moans were louder than mine as he took me harder.

"Ohhh baby, you're so tight," he cursed as he fucked my ass.

His dick twitched and jerked inside me as he filled my ass with his cum. I shuddered at the feeling and held myself on my arms, my legs trembling as the orgasm washed over me. I could hear him groaning behind me, his hand rubbing on my spine.

His cock stayed hard inside me, and he fucked me with it, making me take all of his cum. His cum is overflowing from my ass and dripping on my thighs.

I collapsed on the table as he pulled out his softening dick; I felt exhausted but sated. He rubbed my ass cheeks and cleaned my pussy and ass. He lifted me in his arms and carried me to bed.

He laid me down on the bed and put a pillow under my ass to elevate it. I pouted at him as I turned back to look at him. "Why did you do that?" I asked. 

He shrugged. "I thought you would want to be cleaned up," he replied with a smile.

I nodded as he went to the bathroom to get the wipes; I had noticed his hard-on dick, and I didn't feel like stopping him.

He came back and spread my legs and cleaned me slowly; his mouth licked my juices. He parted my ass cheeks and licked me clean, his tongue swirling around my hole.

I shuddered at the sensation of his tongue on my rim; it was a feeling so dirty and wrong yet so good. He licked me from behind as he fucked me with his fingers; I came on his mouth as he drank my cum.

His face was a mess with my juices as he looked at me; I couldn't help but laugh at him. He pouted at me but kissed my lips softly.

"I love you, Mum," he confessed.

I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him deeply. "I love you too, baby, with all my heart." I told him as I hugged him tightly.

He pulled me closer, his hard cock rubbing on me as we hugged. I looked at him with a mischievous look as I pushed him on the bed.

His eyes were confused as I sat on his dick, feeling the warmth of his dick entering me again. His breath hitched as his hands gripped my ass and pulled me down on him. I rode him hard and fast, our movements wild and sloppy. We were making proper love.

"You are insatiable," he complained. 

I smiled and licked his neck. "You can't take it, baby?" I teased.

He moaned and thrust into me as I rode him. He was filling me so good with his cock; I felt his dick twitching inside me again.

"Cum for me, baby." I encouraged him.

[abbottfansstuff]

“Seduced by the Game"

Author's Note: I had the idea of this prompt in my head. I was thinking of adding this to "Something Real," but it just did not belong. It turned into a story of its own.

The teacher’s lounge at Abbott Elementary was filled with the usual clink of coffee mugs, the hum of gossip, and the sporadic laughter of faculty bonding over shared chaos. You sat at your usual corner, sipping coffee, content in your little bubble of peace. However, today, something felt a little different.

“Alright, alright,” Ava said loudly, her voice cutting through the chatter. She leaned against the counter, gesturing for attention. “We’re doing this. Who is undoubtedly the best seducer in this room?”

Without hesitation, Mr. Johnson cleared his throat. “Melissa, obviously. There’s no contest.”

A chorus of agreement rippled through the room, from Janine to Barbara. You raised an eyebrow but remained silent, enjoying the spectacle. Melissa sat back, her typical confident smirk playing on her lips.

"Y'know, I am quite the charmer," Melissa said with a wink. "I could get anyone to bend to my will."

“Everyone but Y/N, apparently,” Ava chimed in with a knowing smile.

The table fell quiet, and all eyes turned to you. You just shrugged, your expression cool and unaffected. “I’m just not easily impressed.”

There was a beat of silence, and then a slow grin spread across Melissa’s face. “Really? Not easily impressed, huh?” she mused.

Ava practically jumped in her seat. “Ooooh!” She pulled up a chair, ready for the show to begin. “This is gonna be good.”

You couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corners of your lips. “Schemmenti, I think you’ve been overhyped. But, by all means, do try to impress me.”

----------

A few days after that conversation, Melissa decided to make her first real move. It was lunchtime, and you had just finished organizing some worksheets in your classroom when she strolled in unannounced, leaning casually against the doorframe like she had all the time in the world.

"Hey there, teach," she drawled, her voice smooth like honey.

You glanced up, unimpressed. "Melissa."

She stepped further inside, her eyes scanning the room before landing on you. "You ever had a real Philly cheesesteak? I mean a real one—not that sad excuse they sell to tourists."

You arched an eyebrow, mildly amused. "And let me guess, you're offering to introduce me to the best one in town?"

Melissa grinned, pushing off the doorframe and taking a slow step closer. "You got it. Best steak, best company—what more could you want?"

You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms. "Melissa, are you seriously using food as a seduction tactic?"

"Hey, don’t knock it till you try it." She smirked, cocking her head slightly. "I’m a woman of many talents, but feeding people? That’s my love language."

You pretended to consider it for a moment before shaking your head. "Tempting, but no. You'll have to try harder than that."

Melissa let out a scoff, clearly not used to being turned down so easily. She narrowed her eyes at you, lips curving into a new kind of smirk—one that promised she wasn’t giving up anytime soon.

---------

A few days later, Melissa tried a different approach. The two of you were the last ones left in the teacher's lounge after a long day. You were flipping through some student reports when she casually sat on the couch across from you, stretching out her legs in a way that conveniently brushed against yours.

You barely reacted.

Melissa, undeterred, leaned in slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "You work too hard."

You hummed, still reading. "Comes with the job."

"Yeah, but you gotta relax sometime," she mused, then, as if it were an afterthought, reached out and gently trailed her fingers along your forearm. "You know, let someone else take care of you for a change. A little massage.. something," she said while touching your leg with hers.

You finally looked up, and for a brief second, you saw the flicker of confidence in her green eyes. She thought she had you.

Instead, you smirked. "Melissa, was that supposed to be a move?"

Melissa blinked, clearly not expecting that reaction. "What? No, I was just—"

"Because if it was, I've gotta say…I've seen better," you teased, leaning back in your chair.

Melissa opened and closed her mouth, momentarily speechless, before she let out a gruff chuckle, shaking her head. "You are unbelievable."

You simply shrugged. "Told you I’m not easily impressed."

You grinned, enjoying this game far more than you should. "Better luck next time, Schemmenti."

---------

It was a Thursday morning, and the Abbott Elementary hallways were buzzing with students dragging their feet to class and teachers clutching their coffee like lifelines. You were at your desk, grading papers before the first bell when an unexpected silence rippled through the hallway.

You looked up just as Janine practically tripped into your classroom.

“Have you seen Melissa today?” she whispered as if saying it too loud would set off some sort of explosion.

You blinked. “Uh… no?”

Janine let out a breath and shook her head, “Just… brace yourself.”

Not even a second later, Melissa strutted in—except this wasn’t the usual button-down-and-blazer Melissa. This was something else entirely.

She was wearing a deep emerald green dress that was form-fitting and stylish. The neckline was just enough to make a statement but not enough to violate the dress code. Her hair was styled to perfection, with red waves cascading over one shoulder. Her makeup was subtly done, but the bold red lipstick was the finishing touch.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Morning,” she said smoothly, leaning against your desk like she had all the time in the world.

You raised an eyebrow, doing your best not to react. “Morning, Melissa.”

She tilted her head, clearly expecting more. “No comment?”

You set your pen down, finally looking at her. “On what?”

Melissa’s green eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. I put in extra effort today.”

You took a deliberately slow sip of your coffee, then met her gaze with a perfectly neutral expression. “Did you?”

Melissa scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. “Don’t tell me all of this was wasted on you,” she gestured vaguely down at herself. “This dress? The lipstick? The legs?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “It’s nice.”

Melissa blinked. “Nice?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Very professional.”

Melissa looked absolutely dumbfounded. “Professional? That’s all you’ve got?”

She stared at you, lips parting slightly as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. For the first time, Melissa Schemmenti looked visibly thrown off her game.

You leaned forward slightly, dropping your voice just enough so only she could hear. “You were expecting something else, weren’t you?”

Melissa’s jaw clenched for a fraction of a second before she let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “Unbelievable,” she muttered.

You just shrugged, smirking to yourself as you returned to your papers. “Better luck next time.”

Melissa lingered for a moment longer before sighing dramatically and pushing off your desk. “This isn’t over,” she warned, pointing at you as she turned to leave.

Janine, still standing there with her mouth open, finally snapped out of it as Melissa strutted out. The second she was gone, Janine whirled on you. “Are you kidding me?!”

You just smiled, taking another sip of coffee. “What?”

Janine groaned. “She was gorgeous! And you just—nothing?!”

You chuckled. “I never said she wasn’t gorgeous.”

Janine gasped. “Oh my god. You’re playing her.”

You simply smiled. “Maybe.”

And with that, you turned back to your papers, already anticipating Melissa’s next attempt.

Little did you know, she was already planning it.

----------

It was Barbara’s birthday, and the Abbott crew decided to hit up a local bar to celebrate. Everyone was there: Ava, Janine, Melissa, Mr. Johnson, Barbara, and, of course, Y/N. The lights were dimmed, the music was blasting, and the entire crew was in high spirits, ready to blow off some steam after a long week of teaching.

You were sitting with Barbara, nursing a drink, as the others mingled and chatted. Ava was being her usual, chaotic self, practically leading the charge to the dance floor, while Janine tried to convince everyone to take a group photo. It was a typical Friday night, filled with the quirky energy only a group of teachers could bring.

But as you glanced across the room, your eyes locked with Melissa. She was standing by the bar, her presence magnetic. She was wearing a black, figure-hugging dress that stopped just above her knees, her lips painted with a bold red, and her dark hair cascading in loose waves over her shoulders. She caught your gaze, offering you a slow, teasing smile, and something in her eyes seemed to spark.

“You coming to dance?” she called out over the music, her voice smooth and seductive.

You raised an eyebrow, not quite sure whether she was serious. “Dance? I’m good here,” you said, swirling your drink.

She cocked her head as if considering you. Then, in a flash, she was at your side, standing way too close for comfort, her hand on your chair. “C’mon,” she purred, her tone dripping with mischief. “You might surprise yourself.”

Without waiting for a response, she took your hand, gently pulling you up from your seat. You couldn’t deny the spark of curiosity that flared inside you, but you weren’t going to make it easy for her.

As you followed Melissa to the dance floor, Ava caught your eye from across the room and gave you a knowing look. Barbara waved from the sidelines as if encouraging the playful banter to unfold. It felt like everyone was watching the two of you now.

Melissa led you onto the dance floor, moving to the rhythm of the music with an effortless grace. Her hips swayed with every beat, and she was all confident—exactly what you'd expect from her.

With a teasing grin, she turned to face you, sliding closer, her body just a breath away. “I’ll be honest,” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to your ear. “I was hoping this would work on you.” She pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling. “But I guess I’ll just have to try harder.”

You weren’t sure what exactly she meant by that, but the way she looked at you made your pulse quicken. You stood there for a moment, feeling that tug of chemistry building between you.

Then, before you knew it, Melissa grabbed your hand again and placed it gently on her waist, her fingers brushing the small of your back. She moved her body closer to yours, her lips curling into a playful smile.

“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy,” she teased, swaying her hips to the beat.

You swallowed, finding it difficult to maintain your cool. The way she danced—how she kept teasing you with every move—was starting to work. And as much as you tried to hold out, you felt your resistance slipping away.

Her red lipstick was so close now, brushing against your cheek as she leaned in again, whispering, “I know you’re enjoying this.”

You fought to keep a straight face, but it was hard when Melissa looked at you like she could read every thought you had. The tension between the two of you was palpable, everyone else fading into the background as you were lost in the moment.

You took a deep breath, finally setting down your drink. “You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” You pulled away slightly, your hand still on her waist but more deliberate now, your eyes locking with hers.

Melissa’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I always do,” she said, moving a little closer.

You didn’t back down. In fact, you stepped forward, brushing your lips dangerously close to Melissa’s ear. “Well, then, let me show you something.”

Without warning, you slid their hands from Melissa’s waist to the back of her neck, pulling her in close. Your bodies were pressed together now, the heat between you undeniable. Melissa’s breath caught, a surprised, almost delighted look crossing her face. But you didn’t let up—you were in control now.

“You’ve been playing me all night, Melissa,” you whispered, voice low and seductive. “But now it’s my turn.”

Melissa’s eyes darkened with a mix of surprise and desire. She was speechless for a moment, her body frozen in place. But then, a slow grin spread across her face as she looked down at you. “Well, damn,” she said softly, her voice thick with amusement and something else, something much more sincere. “You’re good at this.”

“I learned from the best,” you teased, sliding a hand through Melissa’s hair, tugging her closer until your lips were almost touching.

Melissa couldn’t resist anymore. She closed the distance between them, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was far more than just playful—this was the moment where everything shifted. The crowd around them didn’t matter anymore.

They had both won.

----

The following Monday at school, everything felt different. You and Melissa shared knowing looks whenever you crossed paths in the hallways, but the playful tension from the night out was gone. You were both comfortable, finally realizing that you had been circling around each other for too long.

In the teacher’s lounge, Ava leaned over to you, raising an eyebrow. “So… did you two finally break the ice?”

You smirked, your gaze finding Melissa across the room. “You could say that.”

Melissa caught your eye and winked, sending your heart fluttering. She walked over casually, not skipping a beat, as she joined the conversation, completely at ease.

“Break the ice?” Melissa repeated, glancing between you and Ava. “I think we just set it on fire.”

And just like that, you and Melissa knew your playful dance was only the beginning. 

There was still so much more to explore.

[orbital-inclination]

Any little tidbits from Molten!Dreams you’re willing to share?

Sure! Let’s talk about Molten!Dream’s Dreamtale. Long Post Incoming!!

The village and the Great Tree (the Tree of Emotion, but I’m calling it the Great Tree here because I think it sounds better) were surrounded by a vast old growth forest. In summer, the climate surrounding the Great Tree was dry and hot. In winter, it was wet, rainy and chilly, but snow was incredibly rare. It was not unheard of for forest fires to happen here.

Prior to the Apple Incident Molt and Rem never went so far that they couldn’t see the Great Tree. To them, the extent of Dreamtale is/was a massive, endless forest. If the forest had an outer boundary, they never saw it, only heard "unbelievable" tales of it from traveling merchants who insisted their world had an end to it. crazy talk. (and then Nightmare/Rem started reading. turns out, those merchants were telling the truth! it still felt an outlandish tall tale, but perhaps a little more believable outlandish tall tale.)

There were some aspects of the original Dreamtale that I don’t particularly care about; Neil the Cat, may or may not exist in the Molten!Dreams Timeline, if he does exist, he missed his chance to mentor, watch over or influence Dream in anyway (fate adverted!) because the brothers fled in the immediate aftermath. (more on this later. i want to make a comic about it.) The Tree of Life, the Tree of Magic and by extension, Lanny and Quetzalcoatl, aren’t relevant to Moltendreams, so I don’t seen them existing within Moltendreams’ canon. I think their involvement would be... whats the word? It doesn't make sense to my brain. They don't fit.

At some point I plan to revise Reapertale to better fit Moltendream’s multiverse. I say this now because I rather lean into Reapertale than use the Tree of Life. (the Tree of Magic feels a bit redundant on this note. why do we need a Tree of Magic when we have Creators? or even Ink, in some case. in Molten Dreams, Ink is a Muse of Creation rather than a being that actively creates AUs but my point still stands. etc. etc.)

The Apple incident was preceded by a string of misfortune.

The village was struck by a drought the previous winter. And the following spring and summer were unusually hot. Crops withered under the blistering sun. Food reserves plummeted. Wells dried up. Things got tense.

Despite the drought and the fires, the Great Tree was unaffected. While trees in the surrounding forest and in the village turned brown, the Great Tree was green. It bloomed flowers in spring while whole fields struggled to sprout. And when crops failed to produce anything that summer, the apples of the Great Tree were plump and ripe. The contrast between the immortality of the Great Tree and the fragility of life within the village, seeded resentment and bitterness...

Tensions between Dream and Nightmare, and the villagers, grew as a result of it. But that is neither the end nor the beginning of that story.

On the Village itself:

You’ll have to excuse the sketchiness, I haven’t drawn in a while, I’ve spent the last month and half trying to pick up my tablet only for my brain to tell me I’m apparently allergic to it. is the floor lava? noooo my TABLET IS LAVA!!! Any-who, moving on!

Notes:

Local architecture uses geometric shapes with lots of sharp angles and straight lines.

Windows are tall and narrow. No glass is used.

General construction materials will typically include stone, clay, hardened mud, and stucco. Wood is used sparingly.

Originally I played with the idea of the villagers using thatch for their roofs but on second thought, decided that idea didn’t fit the aesthetic.

i have tentative plans for the monsters who lived in the village to thematically follow mythology from the same regions I'm taking inspiration from for the architecture.

real world inspiration takes a lot from ancient Armenian, Roman and Mesopotamian architecture. Unfortunately, i am bad at drawing buildings and actively avoid it, but in the future i want to lean into this more. at least visually.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (15 - Vis)

Chapter Summary: Why walk willingly into something destined to leave a scar? You didn’t need another scar. You didn’t need a Wanda-shaped scar.

You were afraid of her—always had been—but now you’re more afraid of wanting something you couldn’t afford to lose.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4.2k+ | Chapter Tags: Angst

A/N: Finally was able to write a few thousand words for the new chapter I'm working on. Hope everyone's doing alright :) Angsty chapters ahead starting with this one :P // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

For the first time since becoming an Avenger, you weren't doing things alone as often.

Wanda had seamlessly integrated herself into your routine, or perhaps you had integrated into hers. Either way, the companionship was a welcome change. She rarely used her powers around you, and the missions had been sparse enough that she seldom needed to use them at full throttle. Instead, you found yourself teaching her hand-to-hand combat, focusing primarily on defensive techniques since her main form of attack was still those spectral red wisps rather than direct physical strikes. Wanda absorbed techniques like a sponge. She learned the moves easily, and by the second week of consistent training, she was dodging your attacks with a graceful ease.

Wanda began making a habit of tapping at your door before dinner. With rooms adjacent to each other, it made sense to walk down together, often ending up side by side at the table. Vision, on the other hand, took up his post on Wanda’s other flank, filling in whenever there was a pause in your newfound friendship. Despite his constant presence,  it was clear that you were the one she gravitated towards, the one she focused on during conversations, her laughter a little louder, her smiles more prolonged.

Not that this was a competition with Vision. Nothing like that.

You were simply just… observing a fact, is all.

One afternoon, you were in the kitchen, attempting to make a passable stir-fry. The rest of the team was out on an extraction mission, one you were thankfully spared from. Normally, you’d be the first to volunteer for a job, but lately, you were more keen on staying at the compound. You had taken to training Wanda, spending afternoons reading side by side, and endlessly teasing each other. She'd picked up on it too, throwing back her own retorts just as fast as you could dish them out.

Wanda walked in, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. “Cooking again? Should I be worried?” she teased.

You smirked. Wanda's confidence in ribbing you at every chance was growing. “Very funny. I'll have you know I'm improving.”

She peeked into the pan. “Smells good. Need any help?”

“Actually, yes,” you muttered, trying to avoid the occasional splash of oil. “Could you hand me the soy sauce?”

She moved closer, reaching into the cupboard beside you. “Here you go."

“Thanks,” you said, your fingers brushing hers as you took the bottle. A brief, pleasant tension hung between you before you both looked away.

As you poured the soy sauce into the pan, you felt her gaze on you. "What is it?" you asked, glancing over.

She tilted her head, gazing at you softly. “You've got something on your face,” she murmured.

You attempted to wipe it off, but your hands, full and coated in cooking residue, only managed to smear more across your cheek.

Wanda decided to take matters into her own hands. “Hold still,” she instructed.

She moved closer, raising her hand to your face. Her fingertips brushed lightly against your skin as she removed a smudge of sauce near your cheekbone. Your heart hammered in your chest, her proximity heightening your awareness of every detail—the faint scent of her perfume, the tenderness in her eyes.

“All clean,” she whispered, her eyes meeting yours.

“T-Thanks…”

She didn’t pull away right away. Her hand lingered, a beat too long. Long enough to mean something. And you couldn’t look anywhere but at her. 

You leaned in, not thinking, not breathing, just moving. It was instinct. Wanda didn’t move away. Her eyes—those damn green orbs—dipped—quick, almost imperceptible—to your mouth, then back up. A signal, maybe. Or an accident. Either way, you took it as permission to continue. The distance between you collapsed like a snapped thread.

And then footsteps—loud enough to snap you both out of the spell. Your pulse rocketed, and you jumped back just as Vision rounded the doorway.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted both of you, but mostly he was looking at Wanda who was still focused on you. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Vis,” Wanda said, her nickname for him finally drawing your attention back to her. “We were, uh, just... cooking.”

“So I see,” Vision said. “Wanda, I wanted to remind you that we planned to go into the city today. You agreed to assist me in selecting new attire.”

Wanda blinked, her face caught between surprise and realization. “Oh, right. I almost forgot.”

You kept your face turned toward the stove, stirring the pan with a little more force than necessary. “Well, don’t let me keep you,” you said, trying for casual but landing somewhere closer to bitter. “The stir-fry is just about done.”

Vision, for all his efforts to become more human, still couldn’t read the room. “Would you like to join us for an early dinner before we leave?” he asked.

You glanced back, just enough to see him, to see her, standing there side by side like the picture of domestic civility. “Thanks,” you said, shaking your head. “But I just remembered I’ve got some things to take care of.”

Wanda moved in front of Vision, blocking him from your view. “Are you sure?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” you said, plastering on a smile you didn’t feel. “You two go ahead. Enjoy your shopping trip.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned back to the stove, grabbed a clean plate, scooped out a portion of the stir-fry, and made your escape. Down the hall, up the stairs, into the bedroom. 

Your bedroom.

You sat on the floor, cross-legged, the plate resting in your lap. It was your comfort food, but there was no comfort in it at all. You’d lost your appetite somewhere between the stove and here.

Vis.

The name rattled in your head like a cruel mantra.

Vis.

A nickname. A pet name for her pet—of course. How fitting. How utterly ridiculous. How much it made your blood boil.

The food on your plate turned to ash as you shoved another bite into your mouth, chewing mechanically. 

Vis.

Vis.

Vis.

You hated how it sounded, hated how it felt. Too endearing. Too much like something Wanda had given him—a thing of hers that wasn’t yours. Too much like something you’d never have.

—

Wanda hadn’t been able to take her mind off you since that moment in the kitchen—where you almost kissed her. Or maybe it was the other way around. She wasn't sure anymore. What she did know was that she couldn’t stop replaying the scene: your pupils dilated, the hint of mint on your breath, your lips hovering so close to hers she could almost taste you.

Her interest in you wasn’t new. It had crept up on her not long after she and Pietro defected from Ultron and sought refuge with Tony—and through him, with you and the rest of the team. Among all the team members, it was clear that you harbored the most reservations about her. You were openly wary, never masking your distrust. You never feigned cordiality, and she respected that authenticity. It meant she could take everything you said or did at face value.

Over time, that respect began to shift in the days following her move to North America. At first, she told herself her fascination with you was just curiosity—a need to challenge the version of her you seemed to have already decided on, to prove she wasn’t the person you thought she was. 

The more Wanda watched you, the more she trailed you, the harder it became to ignore the small, telling details. Like the way your face always looked wound tight, your expression incessantly on the verge of a scowl, as if you carried pain or stress everywhere you went. It fascinated her—how your emotions were so easy to read, almost embarrassingly transparent. She could see when you were frustrated, irritated, or, on those rare occasions, genuinely happy. It became a quiet game for her, trying to predict the color of your mood each day. Most days, you were blue, just like the dull ache she carried inside since losing her parents and then her brother.

But unlike her, whose grief was laid bare for the world to see—grief that Vision appeared inexplicably drawn to—your sadness was a mystery. Those frowns you wore carried a story she didn’t know, a story that left her wanting to understand you more. But you made it nearly impossible. You kept everyone at arm’s length, even Natasha and Clint—the only two people in the compound you seemed to genuinely tolerate, maybe even like.

Wanda had planned to come to you right after fulfilling her promise to Vision to help him shop for clothes. But the outing dragged on, delayed by every fan who stopped Vision for an autograph or a photo. Wanda stood there, watching helplessly as he obliged every single request, until they finally made it back to the compound, long past midnight. She didn’t want to disturb you at that hour, and exhaustion had settled into her bones.

If she had known she’d feel this close to you in just a few short weeks, she would have thought twice about agreeing to Vision’s request. Maybe she’d have reserved all her time—every weekday, every weekend—just for you. 

And so, Wanda stayed up through the night, waiting. If she slept at all, it was barely more than a fleeting doze, her thoughts keeping her wide awake until the first light of dawn crept in. She played it out in her mind: a dozen different scenarios, but each of them ending with you returning her feelings. She’d been keeping track—comparing how much time you spent with her versus the others—and she was ahead by a wide margin. That couldn’t be for nothing, right? It had to mean something.

Finally, when the clock struck six in the morning, she rapped her knuckles against your door, the sound almost timid. She waited, holding her breath, for nearly a minute before knocking again, this time louder.

Still, no answer.

On impulse, she reached for the doorknob expecting it to be locked, but finding it unlocked instead. The door creaked open, revealing your room, neat and untouched. The bed was made, the desk tidy, and the faintest trace of your scent lingered in the air. But there was no sign of you. She nearly stepped further into the room, the thought of exploring your space crossing her mind, but she stopped, remembering your need for privacy. Despite her longing to know everything about you, and the self-control it took to resist reading your thoughts, she respected your wishes and refused to violate your boundaries without consent.

Since it was too early for you to be gone, her thoughts jumped to the only other place she knew you might be—your apartment. 

—

It felt strange coming here alone, without you to open the door and invite her in. The apartment seemed less welcoming and somewhat intimidating. For a brief moment, Wanda considered leaving. But she steeled herself and knocked.

For all she knew, you could be somewhere else entirely.

In the next second, she found out in the most awkward way that you weren’t. The door opened to reveal a tall blonde woman dressed casually in an oversized T-shirt and shorts, her hair tousled as if she'd just woken up. She held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand.

“Can I help you?”

Wanda froze, her mind stumbling over words that refused to come. Before she could find her voice, she heard your muffled question from inside.

“Is that the pizza?”

The blonde woman turned her head slightly. “Nope, but you've got company!” she called back.

You appeared behind her, pulling on a hoodie over your T-shirt. Your eyes widened when you saw Wanda standing there. “Wanda? What are you doing here?”

Wanda pulled herself together just in time. Whatever face she made at the sight of a gorgeous, half-naked blonde in your apartment, she wasn’t about to let you catch it.

“There's a mission briefing in ten minutes,” she told you coolly. “Thought you might not want to miss it.”

Without thinking, you blurted out, “You could've just called me,” making Wanda’s face slip into an almost wounded expression. 

“I don’t have your number,” she said, her irritation shining through.

Your hand moved to the back of your neck, rubbing at the tension that had already begun to settle there. “Right. You could’ve, uh, used the team comms.”

“Sure,” she replied flatly. For a second she simply stood there, eyes darting between you and your guest, a silent accusation or maybe just a question, burning in her gaze. Before you could answer—or even think of what to say—she turned on her heel and strode off.

“Wanda, wait—” you called, taking a step after her, but she didn’t slow down. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you reeling with the aftermath. 

“Friend of yours?” the woman—Chelsea—in your apartment asked.

You sighed. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Chelsea smirked. You looked visibly bothered for it to be anything less than what it looked like.

“Oh, I didn’t say it looked like anything. But if you’re feeling guilty, who am I to argue?”

“Thanks for making that worse,” you said dryly, heading toward the kitchen. “By the way, you’re welcome for letting you stay here last minute.”

She followed you to pour herself another cup. “Seriously, though—thank you. Josh’s business trip came out of nowhere, and with the contractors at our place, I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, grabbing a mug for yourself. “Just keep the place clean, alright? And no drugs.”

She raised an eyebrow at you, mock affronted. “What do you take me for?”

“If you must,” you added, pouring your coffee, “stick to weed. And air it out after.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Noted.”

You hadn’t planned on going back to the compound so soon, not after driving yourself insane all night, obsessing over Wanda and Vision. But maybe you should’ve spiraled there instead of hiding out in your apartment—where Wanda just happened to stumble upon you with another girl.

Not that it should’ve mattered to her. But the way she looked at you, like you’d done something unforgivable, made your skin crawl. You hated how she had that power over you, how her disappointment felt like a knife. And really, what right did she have? You didn’t get to feel jealous over Vision, just like she didn’t get to feel jealous over whoever you were with.

Still, no amount of rationalizing could shake the image of her face, the way she stared between you and Chelsea. You weren’t even thinking about the meeting—you missed those more often than not. But now you felt compelled to show up, even if it didn’t make sense.

“Anyway,” you said, setting down your empty mug, “I’ve got to head back to the compound.”

“Go, hero,” she teased, waving you off. “Don’t let me keep you from saving the world or whatever it is you do.”

—

You arrived at the conference room, fully expecting to find Tony, probably already mid-sentence in some snarky comment about how generous it was of you to grace them with your presence. Instead, the room was dark. The chairs sat untouched, lined up neatly around the table.

No empty coffee cups scattered around. No notebooks left open with half-scribbled notes. Not a single trace that a meeting had happened at all.  

Wanda had lied—and you were a gullible idiot. 

Your feet carried you on autopilot, down the corridor toward Wanda’s quarters. The burn in your gut grew, a slow churn of anger and something uglier underneath. Her door came into view, closed tight, light seeping out from the edges. You could hear a  faint murmur of voices. One of them hers, the other...someone else.

You took a deep, steadying breath before knocking three times on Wanda’s door.

“Wanda? Open up.”

It didn’t take long for it to open, as if she’d been waiting for you all this time.

“What are you doing here?” she asked tersely. 

Behind her, Vision was lounging on her bed, looking up from a book opened on his lap. He offered a polite nod in your direction before going back to his reading. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on you. Just earlier, Wanda had found you with Chelsea, and now here you were, finding her with Vision. You almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“There was no briefing,” you stated flatly.

Wanda smiled, soft and unrepentant. “I guess you figured that out.”

“Why did you lie to me?” you demanded.

“Why do you think?”

You bit down on your lip to not say what you were thinking.  “I don't appreciate being played with, Wanda.”

She let out a dry scoff. “Funny, I could say the same to you.”

“What the hell is—” you started, but your attention landed on Vision, who was still in the room and wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“Vision,” you said sharply, “can you give us some privacy?”

He didn’t even blink. Instead, he closed his book with excruciating calm and turned to Wanda. “I will leave if she asks me to.”

Your jaw clenched as your nostrils flared. Of course, it had to be this kind of game. “Wanda,” you said, your patience fraying. “Can you ask him to leave?”

Her arms crossed, and she stared you down, her eyes daring you to make this any more difficult. You didn’t back down, meeting her gaze head-on. When it became clear she had no intention of relenting, you grabbed her arm—not roughly, but with enough force to make your point—and pulled her toward your room. Vision stood, clearly intending to follow, but Wanda finally intervened. “Stay here, Vis,” she said.

You smirked, the corner of your mouth curling in satisfaction. “That’s right, ‘Vis.’ Be a good boy and stay.”

It was petty, but it felt damn good.

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you tried to steady your breathing. She didn’t give you much of a chance.

“What the hell is your problem?” she snapped, yanking her arm free of your grip.

You met her glare with one of your own. “My problem? What's your problem, Wanda? You bang on my door at dawn, feed me some line about a briefing that doesn’t exist, and now you’re acting like I did something wrong.”

Wanda didn’t seem remotely interested in answering any of your questions. 

“Who's the woman in your apartment?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question.”

Alright then. You’d tell her—not because you owed her an explanation, but because you wanted her to see how absurd her assumptions were.

“Her name's Chelsea,” you began, “she's a friend—and married, by the way. They needed a place to crash. You missed her husband heading out for a convention by, oh, maybe five minutes.”

Wanda's expression faltered for a moment before hardening again. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Why do you care so much about who I have at my apartment?”

“Because you brought me to yours!” she yelled suddenly. “We’d been hanging out, spending all that time together, and I... Did I read this whole thing wrong?”

“What thing?” you asked quietly, even though you knew exactly what she was referring to. She hadn’t read it wrong. But just because there were feelings didn’t mean you had to act on them, right?

“This thing between us, Y/N!” she exclaimed. Her chest heaved, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “The way we talk, the way you look at me. Or the way I thought you looked at me.”

It wasn’t a direct confession, but it didn’t need to be. The way Wanda stood there, trembling, said more than her words ever could. 

Being an Avenger meant living with one foot in the grave, a reality you’d made peace with. But caring about another Avenger—someone who lived on that same edge—was a different kind of risk. You’d seen it before. Natasha and Bruce’s quiet implosion. The way your mentor carried her heartbreak like shrapnel buried deep. Clint, splitting his life in two to keep his family safe. Tony, haunted by the faces of everyone he couldn’t save. Why walk willingly into something destined to leave a scar? 

You didn’t need another scar. You didn’t need a Wanda-shaped scar.

You were afraid of her—always had been—but now you’re more afraid of wanting something you couldn’t afford to lose.

You ignored the pleading look in her eyes, the way she was practically telling you that you were the one she wanted. Instead, you launched into what you thought would be your saving grace—a monologue of self-sabotage. If she could just see how unworthy you were, how ill-equipped for whatever this could become, she’d turn away before either of you ended up drowning.

“Vision’s in the next room. He’s waiting for you. He’s perfect, isn’t he? No mistakes, no baggage. Morally upright in every sense. Hell, he doesn’t even have a past to haunt him, no skeletons in his closet. He’s everything I’m not.”

She stared at you, her lips parting to respond, but you didn’t let her.

“I’m selfish, Wanda,” you went on. “I make bad calls. I screw up more than I get it right. I’m a terrible choice. And this?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “This isn’t going to end well. For either of us.”

She started to protest, but you kept going, unable to stop yourself now.

“You think you want me? You don’t. Trust me. Vision’s the standard. You deserve someone like him. Someone steady, someone who won’t let you down.”

And then you realized you weren’t going to convince her by selling her something else. 

You needed to reject her.

“I—I don’t like you,” you stammered, the lie spilling out, living a bitter taste in your mouth. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m sorry, Wanda.”

Wanda didn’t move at first. She stood there, her chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. You wished you knew what she was thinking.

And then it happened—that slight shift in her expression, subtle but unmistakable. Her brows furrowed, her eyes narrowing just enough to tell you exactly what she was considering.

“Don’t,” you warned.

She blinked, startled. “What?”

“You know what,” you replied, your tone sharper than you intended. “Don’t even think about it.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “I wasn’t going to—”

“Yes, you were,” you interrupted, stepping closer, daring her to deny it. “You were thinking about looking inside my head. Don’t try to deny it, Maximoff.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, she looked away, guilt flashing across her face. “I just—” she started, but you didn’t let her finish.

“That’s one of the reasons I can’t—” You broke off, your frustration boiling over. “That’s one of the things I don’t like about you. You’ll always have that option. That ability to strip me bare, to take whatever you want, and I’ll never be able to stop you.”

Her face fell, and for a moment, you almost regretted the words. Almost.

“I would never—”

“But you could, Wanda!” you shot back, your voice rising. 

Wanda’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She took a step back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if trying to hold herself together.

“I wasn’t going to do it,” she said quietly, her voice trembling but firm. “I was tempted, yes. But I wasn’t going to.”

“Temptation is enough,” you said, shaking your head, your laugh bitter and humorless. “You shouldn’t even want to, Wanda. Not with me. Not with anyone.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, she looked impossibly small. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I just—when you lie to me like that, when you say you don’t like me, I don’t believe it. It doesn’t feel true.”

You switched up tactics before Wanda could convince you to change your mind about this. 

“Well, maybe I don’t like you as much as you think,” you retorted, your voice nearly breaking somewhere in the middle. “Maybe you’re just reading into things that aren’t there.”

“You don’t mean that,” she said, more for herself than for you.

“Believe whatever you want,” you said coldly. “But I’m not going to apologize for telling you the truth.”

Neither of you moved, locked in this terrible stillness that seemed to drag on forever.

It was Wanda who broke first.

Her hand rose, shaky, to her cheek. With the smallest of movements, she wiped away a single tear that had slipped free. The action was so subtle, so restrained, that it almost broke you. But you stayed where you were, frozen in place, watching as she straightened her posture and schooled her features into something calm. Something controlled.

She turned silently and headed for the door. There was no rush, no slamming, no dramatic display of anger or heartbreak. Just Wanda leaving.

At the door, she paused, her hand on the frame. Slowly, she turned to look at you one last time.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “I deserve more than a coward.”

The door shut behind her with a finality that settled like lead in your chest. You stayed where you were, staring at the empty space she’d left behind, trying to tell yourself this was the outcome you wanted.

[jadedrrose]

𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

request: "with a s/o who pampers him after a long training session�� they make him his favorite pumpkin soup, give him lots of water, wipe his sweat, tend to his wounds (if he ever has any) and give him lots of kisses!! Angeal and Genesis witness all of that mushy gushy stuff, and like to tease Seph behind his back"

word count: 1697 warnings: female reader (she/her pronouns used), non-sexual nudity (they take a bath together), pre-nibelheim seph, fluff note: I saw a tweet about a "theory" (?) that the first class SOLDIERs share a living space but have separate rooms, so I used that idea for this fic.

Sitting on the plush couch in the first’s living quarters, you read a book, keeping an eye on the pumpkin soup which currently simmers on the stove. You’ve been preparing it for the past few hours, knowing Sephiroth was having a particularly busy, and exhausting, day. Glancing up from your book you read the digital clock on the side-table, finding that it’s getting fairly late. Your boyfriend had said he’d only be training for about an hour after completing his missions for the day- so what was the holdup?

However, your question was answered upon hearing the sound of voices entering the room. Genesis, who’d been loudly boasting about how he’d beaten both Angeal and Sephiroth in training, paused, presumably taking in the scent that filled the room. “It would seem that someone’s been in here, cooking.”

The three men step out from the doorway into the main living area, and you can hear Sephiroth just barely whisper your name. You put your book down, getting up to greet him. Pushing past the other two men, you smile and wrap your arms around your boyfriend, who returns the hug. You can feel his exhaustion in the embrace. Holding him tighter, your lips meet in a soft, short-lived kiss. 

“What are we reading today?” Genesis asks, picking your book up from where you left it. 

“A murder mystery,” you reply, reluctantly letting go of Sephiroth. “Sorry to say it isn’t your beloved Loveless.” 

“Hmph. How many times have I asked you to read it, now?”

You roll your eyes, and nod to Angeal, silently greeting him. “Too many to count,” you finally reply. “I’ll get to it… eventually.”

“Perhaps you’d have more time to read it if you didn’t spend it all pampering the golden child,” the redhead laments.

“Let her do with her free time as she wishes, Genesis,” Angeal cuts in. 

Before Genesis can playfully bicker some more, Sephiroth speaks up, “did you make pumpkin soup?”

“Yep! I knew you’d be having a long day, so…” you bashfully look down, finding his warm gaze makes your heart beat too quickly. “And I did make enough for you guys, too,” you say, turning to Genesis and Angeal. “It’s ready when you all are.”

The two men rush into the kitchen, grabbing the bowls you’d placed on the table and hastily scooping the soup into their dishes. Sephiroth, however, stays back and gives your upper arm a squeeze. “Thank you,” he quietly says. “I really appreciate you doing this.” 

His gaze now tells you that he’s very tired, and so you decide you’ll run him a bath after dinner. But for now, you give him a loving smile, before sneaking in another quick kiss and pulling him into the kitchen by his wrist. 

—

Once all four of you have eaten, Angeal and Sephiroth are washing and putting away the dishes, and so you take the time to go prepare a bath for you and Sephiroth. As the water slowly fills the tub, you wait, leaning against the vanity. 

“Can the baby not even fill a bath for himself?” Someone says, and you nearly jump a couple feet into the air, temporarily scared. 

You turn to find Genesis at the door, arms crossed in front of himself. “Someone must be jealous that they don’t have anyone to dote on them,” You sigh, “what are you doing in here?” 

Genesis extends an arm, holding out a copy of Loveless. “Decided I’d bring you this so that it would be ready for you to read at any time. And perhaps seeing it will serve as a reminder.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling anyway. Taking the book, you go to put it on the side of the dresser that Sephiroth let you have. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. In fact, you can keep it.”

“You don’t want your beloved book back?” You ask.

“That’s a spare copy,” he replies.

Of course he has multiple copies, you then roll your eyes at the idea of him having a bookshelf dedicated to it. 

—

Back in the kitchen, Sephiroth places the silverware back into the drawer and then dries off the counter. Just as he’s about to retreat into his room for the night, Angeal closes the fridge door- having put the remaining soup away- and turns to him. “You’ve really got her wrapped around your finger, huh?” 

“What do you mean?” Sephiroth raises an eyebrow. 

“She cooks your favorite meals, and prepares baths for you. Don’t tell me she brushes your hair, too.”

Sephiroth frowns, knowing he can’t deny that, and Angeal laughs in response. 

“Anyway, what I’m saying is you’ve found yourself a nice, honorable woman,” Angeal clarifies. “Don’t let that go.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Sephiroth nearly scoffs. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and the thought of him losing you was his biggest fear. If he ever let you go, he’d never forgive himself.

“We’ll I’m just saying… maybe you should do something to thank her. Show her how forever dedicated to her you are.”

Sephiroth contemplates what Angeal means by that for a moment, before quietly asking, “are you suggesting that I pro-“

“Your bath awaits you, princess,” Genesis announces, entering the kitchen. “Your love is waiting to pamper her baby.”

Sephiroth lowers his head, hoping his hair might hide the blush that spreads across his face. “I’m not her baby.”

The other two men burst into laughter. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Genesis. She really does mother you sometimes, huh?” Angeal chuckles. 

“Don’t keep her waiting, baby,” Genesis teases. 

Rolling his eyes, Sephiroth leaves the kitchen, heading straight for his room. He locks the door behind himself and finds you leaving the bathroom, a silky robe in your favorite color wrapped around yourself. It seems you’ve just changed into it, then.

“Um, you can… go in,” you step aside, letting Sephiroth into the bathroom. 

You’re about to let him undress himself in privacy before you remember all of the gear he has to take off. You quickly turn around and follow him into the en-suite, helping him remove all of the armor and belts. You then pull his coat off for him, tossing it into the laundry basket before reaching to undo the straps across his chest, but it’s then that you spot a cut on his chest. “Seph, you’re hurt!” You cry, dropping to your knees to get medical supplies out from the vanity’s cabinets. 

You’re stopped in your tracks as Sephiroth pulls you back up, shaking his head. “I can wash it in the bath. It’s already healed quite a bit, anyway.”

You sigh, taking a closer look at the wound. He’s right, it has already healed much faster than it would’ve if it was on you. You suppose that it’s due to the mako treatments he receives. 

Once Sephiroth is down to just his pants, you let him fully undress and get into the tub, keeping your eyes averted. 

“Don’t act as though you’ve never seen me naked before,” he calls from the bath. “Join me,” he then invites.

“But I want to-“

He shushes you with a finger to his lips, before grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. From there, he pulls at the ribbon keeping your robe together, watching with a mischievous gaze as it falls to the floor. His slitted pupils grow wider at the sight of you, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just relax with me, love,” he coaxes, making room for you to sit in front of him. To your surprise, once you’re in the warm, soothing water with him, Sephiroth makes no move to indicate he wants anything sexual out of this. Instead, he yawns, closing his eyes.

“You seem exhausted,” you say, running a hand through his hair, dampening it. “Rough day?”

“Somewhat,” he grumbles. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, sweetly, before putting some of his floral-scented shampoo into your hand. “Let me take care of you?” 

It comes out as more of a statement, but you still wait for his permission; he can sometimes be so avoidant about these things, like he doesn’t feel as though he deserves to be taken care of. Sephiroth nods, and so you reach around him, and begin massaging the shampoo into his hair, starting at his scalp. Gently, your fingers dip under his silver locks and you lightly scratch his head, the shampoo quickly foaming up as you do so. You then slowly work your way down the long length, and finally help him rinse it.

Once his whole in-shower hair routine is done, you move to sit behind him and rub his back, working your soft hands over his muscles. He sighs as you help him relax, and after a short while of giving him a massage, you can feel- and see- that he’s nearly half asleep. You stop and wrap your arms around his torso, resting your head against the top of his back and neck, his silky hair pushed over his shoulder. You press a kiss to his pale skin, and it’s then he mumbles something you can’t quite decipher.

“Hm?” 

“I wanna hold you…” he says slightly louder, but his exhaustion is now extremely clear in his voice. Smiling, you get up. “How about I help you dry off and you can hold me in bed?”

“…yeah,” he agrees.

And so you drain the water, give Sephiroth a towel that he uses to dry himself from the stomach down, while you wrap a towel around yourself and get yet another towel for his hair. 

Many towels later, he’s in a pair of sweatpants and you’re in one of his t-shirts, dragging him to bed. As soon as he’s laid down, Sephiroth grabs your waist with a scarily fast speed, tugging you down with him. “Thank you for everything… I love you,” he groggily says. Holding you in his arms, he buries his face between your neck and shoulder, giving your skin a light kiss as he drifts off into sleep. You smile yet again, placing your hands over his own as you follow him into a peaceful slumber.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𓆩♡𓆪 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Let's Get Physical pt. 3

pt.2

Author's note: Hate to do this to you guys but it's angst time :P Sorry this was late as hell, my mom had surgery and I've been taking care of her. I recommend listening to Taste by Sabrina Carpenter while reading this

It's Thursday, a few days after you and Soap had set up a date for the following Saturday, but it feels like 2 months later. The days drag by with no clear end in sight. Soap had barely texted you since that night, yet neither have you. The nerves twisting your stomach left no room for attention towards your classes. You'd completely spaced out during your math class, and your physics class, and the rest of them, but who's keeping track?

By Thursday, you were already ridiculously far behind in your physics class. Your teacher would never give an extension, unless you were literally in a hospital, and you needed to get them done asap. Where did that take you? Back to your personal tutor.

Flopping onto your bed in your dorm, you whipped out your phone, a small smile on your face at the excuse to meet with Soap.

Heyyy

It doesn't even take a minute before he responds

Hey hen

What're you up to?

Nothing at the moment, why?

Any way we could meet up later? I'm behind on my assignments and could use your help😓

Seen 1 min ago

Seen 2 mins ago

Seen 10 mins ago

Nerves set in. Did you say something wrong? No, what's wrong with wanting to see him again? Him helping with your homework was how this all started, why stop? He even asked you out-

Oh shit. You finished his sentence for him, maybe you read into it wrong? Maybe he wanted to just hang out as friends, and you assumed it was a date. OUT. LOUD. Fuck, and he went along with it to not make it awkward, didn't he? No, just trust for once.

It's another 30 minutes before you give in and decide to text him again.

If not it's okay, just could use your help, if you aren't busy :)

Sent 2 mins ago

Seen just now

Typing...

I'm meeting with a client in a bit, but we can get a hotel after if you want

Your stomach drops to the bottom of your feet.

Oh.

Right.

Why would you forget about that? Of course he was still going to do his job, you weren't special enough to make him stop, even if he saw you as more than a friend. You signed up for this, so swallow the lump in your throat and don't cry.

Oh right, haha. Yeah we can do that :)

You played it off, right? You can do this. You can see him, hug him, while he still smells like another woman. Could you kiss him, knowing he had another woman on his mouth? God, should you do this?

Seen just now

Seen 1 min ago

Seen 5 mins ago

It's not like you're dating. Were you? You had one set up, but it hadn't happened yet. Were you jumping ahead of yourself? What did you actually feel for him? When he tutored you, you couldn't help the lingering looks you'd give him when he turned to grab something, or how your skin would heat up when he'd squeeze your shoulder and tell you how good you're doing.

God knows how many times you had touched yourself to the thought of him kissing down your body.

Was it worth it? He's so gentle with you, your mind and body reacting to him in a way no one else had managed to make you, but he would never fully be yours. He'd realize eventually there was no true reason for you to be around, and that he could get everything he wanted from the women who pay him, right?

On his end, he was dreading the coming evening. Bianca had payed double than last time, and he needed to pay for a leak in the piping of his sink. Not left with much choice, he accepted. God, he did not want to do this. Taking clients began to feel empty once he got to know you. You payed attention to him, and not just his dick. All he wanted to do right now was hold you and watch a movie, despite not knowing what that felt like with you.

It wasn't something he entirely enjoyed, being a hooker. After a while, his dick became desensitized, and he found it a little harder to be in the moment. Yet, unless he wanted to be eating ramen and tatties for every meal, he didn't really have another option. If he had a documented job, he'd lose his disability check.

So here he was, at a hotel, waiting for her. He dressed in black slacks with a white dress shirt, the first few buttons loose. He had popped a viagra, already knowing that it was gonna be near impossible to get hard with her behavior. When she opened the door with a drawn out, high pitched,

"Heyyy"

He exhaled and gave a fake, yet convincing, smile and prepared for what'd to come. Hopefully he'd be able to just bend her over, so he doesn't have to look in her eyes, pillow shoved in her face so he can barely hear her and just pretend she's you.

This was going to be a long night, but at least you were at the end of it.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: The Dramione Archives (Part 2)

The Dramione Valentine’s Collab Collection 2025:

The Truth Will Set You Pink by baitswitch, Bana_Bhuidseach, didsomeonesay_dracomalfoy, iggygiraffe - E, 3 chapters - After Pansy schemes up a plan to help the post-war seventh and eighth years have a less lonely Valentine's Day, Draco is caught attempting to tamper with the results of his secret match. All Hermione wants is to teach Draco a lesson. All Draco wants is Hermione.

Fourteen Days by CeeLeeBells, kaycares, MaKayKirei, marigold_13 - E, one-shot - In a varied series of events, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger reconnect after the war. Through glimpses into their interwoven - but not always interconnected - lives one day a year, they learn to grow in ways that challenge them, individually and separately, to make the most of every day. - OR -A love story told in a single day over 14 years.

Time after Time by Dracos_library, Motherofdogs18, RavenclawViking, thistlethread - M, one-shot - Stop the clocks. Stop the clocks or turn around and leave. Don’t give me this moment if you know it can't last. Don't give me this moment if I can't have the next. And the next. And the next. --- Don't do this. Say more Or say less Or say nothing at all But don't go back on your promises. Again. And again. And again. --- Stop the clocks. This one is off the books. Tell me now or tell me never. What is it that you really feel? Or: The one where their friends force Draco and Hermione to attend a magical speed dating event on Valentines day.

Abduction Of The Heart by briarandbone, briarandtones, Erin11Ann23, garnetsyrup, KTPhoenix - E, 5 chapters - Valentine’s Day was supposed to be just another uneventful evening for Hermione Granger. Endure a dreadful blind date arranged by well-meaning friends, then retreat home to enjoy a bottle of wine and a book in solitude. But things take a fortuitous turn when Draco Malfoy, missing for nearly a decade, swoops in at the most opportune moment and abducts her. It turns out he’s an alien with ties to a mysterious plant she’s been studying for two years, AND she’s his fated mate! What began as a simple escape from routine has spiraled into something truly out of this world—something even she never saw coming.

Not so anonymous by elliemess, TeTe91, TiffyTea - T, one-shot - Every year Pansy Parkinson organises a Valentine's rose gift as an opportunity for the wizards to send a sign of appreciation to their female colleagues. This year's event comes with two changes, though: - you can add a note to your rose - the event is completely anonymous The latter change combined with watching his witch going without a rose on her desk over and over again convince Draco to take part. Too bad he and Pansy have a different understanding of 'anonymous' and he's now racing against time to prevent his witch from finding out he is the sender of her rose, and even worse the author of her note. OR Draco Malfoy doesn't read the small print.

In Your Dreams by Arang_9, augustaoctavia, orolin, TheBeepBoopBop - M, one-shot - Draco Malfoy has been irritating the hell out of Hermione Granger for the last few years. His charisma, his charm, his annoyingly attractive reading glasses—everything about him. So, there is absolutely no reason that a Valentine’s Weasley’s Wheezes product, marketed as ‘one night with your crush’, would leave her dreaming about him, is there? And, of course, there’s absolutely no way he would ever be dreaming about her too.

Through the Pink Haze by dramionelover1997, Lispodfics, Silver_Snidget, VintageCherry - T, one-shot - In order to save the potions department of the Ministry of Magic, Percy Weasley has challenged Hermione and her office nemesis, Tiamia, to both come up with a new potion to present to the Board of Directors at the Valentine’s Day Gala. With the chance to finally have her own office on the line, she takes the suggestion of her dear friend, Pansy Parkinson, and decides to make an antidote for the love potion-something the Ministry has been struggling to accomplish. What wasn’t in her plans, though, was Draco Malfoy getting dosed with the potion after a run in they had in the Department of Mysteries. Now with a love sick Draco who is whisking her away for a day full of dates, she is more than determined to make the antidote. She’ll just have to ignore the way her heart feels when she’s around him.

Objection: Overruled! by Cailynwrites, Moonluartt, Motherofdogs18, On_a_whimbrel - T, 8 chapters - Hermione is on track to becoming the most accomplished lawyer in the wizarding world—until her senior associate Percy Weasley decides to assign her a co-trainee to improve her teamwork. Now she’s stuck sharing an office with Draco Malfoy, of all people. Seven Valentine's Days. Two idiots. One unlikely partnership.

The (Im)Perfect Intervention by AutumnWeen, maple_unicorn, mistnyx, TrillbySkinner - T, one-shot - Theodore Nott was tired, and he wasn’t even a parent yet. On top of that, he had to deal with his best friend’s constant yapping about the woman he fancied. Fortunately for Theo, the Ministry sponsored “Love Fest Market” provided the perfect opportunity to intervene. Or Draco Malfoy was a pining mess over Hermione Granger, but refused to do anything about it. So, Theo did it for him.

'Till the Last Star Stops Burning by g0lden_g1rl, morgan_magic, sarahsempra, slytherin_scribe - E, one-shot - For Valentine’s Day, Draco and Hermione’s twins are beyond excited to show their parents the special surprises they planned for them. Adorable family fluff ensues, but once the little ones are picked up by their uncles for a sleepover, Draco shows his wife just how much he loves her – passionately.

The Death Eater's Heart by karma_cookie, Riria_art, SilverDragonGemini - E, one-shot - She removed the lid of the gift box with an air of hesitancy and was met with a runic-tattooed finger tucked neatly into it. A thin, black ribbon was tied around the digit with a note: Until I can put a ring on yours, this will have to do. — As the war wages on, Hermione faces a curious problem: unsavory gifts keep arriving at her office, complete with anonymous declarations of love.

Cupid's Cocktail by Dizzle00, MWard01, PaperCraneAudiobooks - E, one-shot - “Shut the fuck up, Theo.” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes, though his cheeks had a slight flush to them. “You’re worse than my mother.”“Well, I did kind of raise you,” Theo retorted, smugly. “Oh please. Which one of us had two loving parents growing up and which didn’t?” “Which one of us is in a long-term, healthy relationship,” Theo countered, pointedly eying Harry’s hand resting on his knee, “and which one lives alone except for coming over here everyday to stare longingly at my roommate’s arse in her new pajama shorts?” Hermione froze. Harry coughed Malfoy glowered. Theo, of course, smirked.

Dreams And Night Mares by LucyHyde, LunaP999, The_Taco_Writes - E, one-shot - Hermione Granger follows the trail of an extraordinary new magical creature — a hybrid of Thestrals and Abraxans — to Alaska assisted by Auror Draco Malfoy. The witch is keen to focus on her assignment but is thoroughly distracted by her partner. The one bed they are to share doesn't make it any easier. Neither does the ever present smirk on Malfoy’s face.

Veni, Vidi, Amavi by mangotart_reads, offthemap, Rchella_1401, writetimewrongmuse - M, one-shot - Once, on a Valentine’s night, they wandered the streets of a city that seemed to have conspired to bring them together. The hours slipped through their fingers, but the memory of it has long refused to let go. What happens when Hermione and Draco share a fleeting encounter in Florence on a night that was never meant to be theirs, and yet somehow was? What happens when the night ends, only to linger like the crescent moon, a sliver of light refusing to dull long into dawn? A journey takes place — a night is shared — an enemy turns more.

The Curse of Saint Valentine by Bekazimi, PearlButtons, Queen_Diana, sad_millennial - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy cares little about Valentine’s Day, and cares even less about Hogwarts’s upcoming Valentine’s Day ball. What he does care about, however, is impressing his colleague and fellow professor: one Hermione Granger. Thus, Draco joins the faculty Party Planning Panel. All is well until his harebrained colleague, the ever-dim Liam Rutherford, brings the cursed skull of Saint Valentine into the mix. [[Featuring Professors Dramione, nosy students and portraits, and Draco’s quest to Live Attractively While Pink.]]

Fate Or Something Like It by EllieByrrdWrites (CSKasem), kitkat2kith, omniluci_estumbra, Reader_VIII - M, 3 chapters - Draco was blindsided, really, by her. And completely smitten. Which was upsetting, because it was Hermione Granger, and he was certain that they had nothing in common. It’s just that she was standing here now, in front of him, sashaying her hips to the music, smiling her gummy smile and charming him without even knowing. What made it worse is that none of it mattered because she still hated him. OR In which, Draco just wants a chance to really get to know Hermione better, so he has to take matters into his own hands when presented with a unique opportunity thanks to Theo's crazy idea to take part in a ritual with an ancient Roman jar.

Lust at Lupercalia by ANovelIdea13, Mermaidflete, shizade, teetorini - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger has never been a fan of Valentine's Day, and she certainly isn’t looking forward to Theo’s extravagant celebration, no matter what name he gives it. But when she’s unexpectedly locked in a Potioneering Lab with Draco Malfoy, she finds herself facing a more pressing dilemma: two phials of a mysterious potion with instructions to drink together.

This fest is ongoing.

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 37 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Breaking up ain't easy, regardless how you do it. Word Count: 5806 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fatphobia, bullying, mild ptsd themes, Aemond got 99 problems and bitches be all of em

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by V6que pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: I just proof read this before publishing it, so grammatically, it'll probably be sussy. Also, IMPORTANT NOTICE AT END OF CHAPTER

“I need you to forgive your father; I need you to retire your resentments towards Rhaenyra and her sons. I need you to do what you’ve been wanting me to do for you. Aemond, please.” 

Valeana’s request had been plaguing him all night and all morning. Of all the things she could’ve asked of him, she found the very thing he believed impossible to do. At the time, the only thing he could say was that he would try, and that was the honest truth of it. Aemond would try, but he was not confident about it, ultimately making him nervous he would fail and lose everything. It put him on edge, which probably wasn’t the best possible position for him to be in when there was a task he’s been putting off that needed to be completed as soon as possible. 

 It was probably the worst possible timing, given what happened with Shyla and his reckless younger brother, Daeron. The relationship between the Targaryens and the Baratheons was already very fragile, but it had to be done. Aemond fully intended to give Daeron hell for making this even more difficult for him than it needed to.

He would have to approach this with even more caution than normal, given the circumstances.So, Aemond deemed it wise not to come to the North Tower to seek Maris out himself, but rather send an envoy with a message to meet her somewhere instead. Neutral ground, he decided, particularly where eyes were sparse and yet it was an appropriate place to meet up for them. The library, he decided, since that is where they met and where they spent most of their time conversing. 

Aemond stood in front of the stand where the large book of his family line sat proudly. The sight of it had become bittersweet, as it was both a reminder of his pride for his blood and name, but it also reminded him of that day in the library when he saw Valeana reading it. His face twisted in a grimace at the intrusion of his heinous crime, when his ego got in the way of him simply acknowledging his emotions, and had resulted in him physically hurting her. Even if it was not a conscious effort on his part, it was still a knee jerk reaction, one that could have been prevented if he just talked to her like a human being and not snapped at her in the first place. 

It was also that night that pushed her into Aegon’s arms; the muffled sounds coming from his bedchamber door still wiggled around his eardrum like a bothersome earwig. 

Luckily–or perhaps unluckily–his morose thoughts were interrupted when the library door opened, and he turned in time to Maris Baratheon enter. She was wearing the colours of her house: a mustard yellow gown with a black underskirt and neckline. Her hair was pulled back, parted in the middle, and plaited in a single braid. 

Not as long as Valeana’s.

“Prince Aemond,” she greeted with what could be perceived as an apprehensive smile. He expected the apprehension, and would wager that she was smart enough to deduce that this conversation could swing in either direction. He had been distant with her, and Maris would have likely picked up on the shift of interest ever since the Maiden’s Day Ball, and started to suspect if not straight up assume, he intended to end the courtship. Which, yes, that was his intention, but the added complication of Shyla’s usurping Floris Baratheon’s beau complicated things politically. Aemond would not put it past both Maris or her father to assume this blunder would put both his and the King’s feet over the fire, giving them no choice but to propose marriage in order to rectify the insult. 

But that is not what is happening here. 

And, with Aemond’s promise to Valeana about keeping peace with his family, the Baratheon’s allegiance to the greens was no longer paramount. It was far more important to him to keep Valeana safe, and away from the grey area she would be put in had the dragons danced. 

Maris looked around the library, scanning to see if they were properly alone.It was near empty, aside from them and the Maester, who was far too preoccupied with dusting old tomes on the second floor to even realize that there were others there. They had privacy, but at least Aemond had one witness should things become confrontational. When her brown eyes landed on the prince, her head tilted a fraction and her eyes peered at him with an unnerving amount of perception. 

“You wished to see me, my Prince?”

“I did,” Aemond nodded, his face unreadably neutral, which likely annoyed Maris if anything. The Prince gestured towards two wooden armchairs that flanked a squat table. “I have something to say.”

Maris tried to keep her expression as neutral as Aemond’s, but her facade was not made of gold, but rather pyrite. Which was an apt metaphor for Maris, who was the Fool’s Gold to Valeana’s Lannister Gold. Without saying a word, she sat down, her eyes sharp as she watched Aemond settle in the other arm chair. 

“Does this have to do with your brother’s slighting my baby sister?” She posed the question in an attempt to sound impassive, unbothered, to not entirely show her cards, but it came out as sharp as her eye, exposing her brittle exterior and how it is chipping away.

If she thought she could make a dent in Aemond’s expressionless armour, she was mistaken, because he responded to that with nothing more than a head tilt. 

“An unfortunate event to be sure but, no, this has nothing to do with my younger brother’s juvenile mistakes,” Aemond’s tone was more clinical if anything, but his natural base tends to be deceptively benign. If Maris didn’t know any better, she might have perceived it as sympathetic. Alas, Maris wasn’t a fool, at least not in the obvious ways, and Aemond was aware that this battle of words would not just be fought with politeness and passive aggression. Maris would make her opinion known and Aemond was prepared for that. 

Maris’ lips thinned before she spoke, “You know, my Prince, my father is quite insulted and angered by your brother’s juvenile mistake, because now my sister is beside herself with heartbreak over the rejection.” 

There was an unspoken threat that Aemond was already aware of. He was already on thin ice with the Stormlord for not officially aligning himself with Maris, and actively avoiding her these last few days. The inevitable rejection just so happened to occur during the worst possible moment, but it had to be done.

“As I said, what Daeron did was regrettable, though his actions have no relation to why I called you here.” 

“Perhaps not, but I am inclined to believe they are similar in nature.”

“I am a man, not a six and ten year old welp who cannot control his baser needs.”

“That is not what I’ve heard.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed at her. She was baiting him, to get her to tell him all the nasty rumours that have been circulating about him, likely in relation to Valeana. But Maris has mistaken him for a man who cared about court gossip, as if it has any sway in his reality at all. 

“I know what you are trying to do, Maris. It isn’t going to work… I’ve already made my decision, and I’m not willing to change it by thinly veiled threats.” 

It was subtle, but noticeable; Aemond could see her nostrils flare momentarily, her lips curling. The composed facade was cracking, giving him a broader glimpse of the real Maris Baratheon underneath. The real Maris that he spotted in her slip ups during their hours long conversations, when she would make comments or remarks about people specifically. It was that very same Maris Baratheon that insulted Valeana’s body out of jealousy and a bruised ego.

“And what is your decision, Prince Aemond? Are you going to spit it out or do you lack the balls to say it out loud?”

Aemond hummed after a beat following her jab; the only indication that her comment might have gotten under his skin was the slight twitch of his bottom eyelid. 

“I regret to tell you, Lady Maris, that I have concluded we are not compatible, and decided that this courtship has run its course.” 

Maris scoffed, shaking her head and looking away from him with a mocking smile on her face. She knew this was coming, but face-to-face rejection was harder than imagining it a thousand times over. Plus, Maris believed to the point of delusion that she could trap him to her by using Floris’ betrayal to her advantage. Alas, she wasn’t getting what she wanted, and that made her see red. It made her see vermillion. 

“That is a load of horseshit, Aemond,” the loss of his formal title didn’t go unnoticed by him, nor was the tone it was spit out in. “We both know it has nothing to do with compatibility. It’s that Valeana Celtigar. She has ensnared you, put you under her Valyrian-witch spell like her bloody sister has done with Floris’ beloved Prince.” 

Aemond fought the urge to roll his eye at the final statement; as if anyone had ownership of a bloody prince. Did the Baratheons all collectively forget that the Targaryens were their sovereign lords? Truly a testimony at how arrogant that entire house was, and it only made him dislike them considerably more.

Aemond sighed exhaustively, already wanting to swiftly remove himself from this conversation. He had said what he needed to, there was nothing left to discuss. Maris would have to just accept it… and yet she just had to open her bloody mouth and bring up not only Valeana, but she also spit on the dignity of the crown. 

“You’ve forgotten your place, Lady Maris. My brother and I are princes of the Realm, not prized stallions to own. It is not within your right to make assumptions or question our actions, let alone have the audacity to claim ownership of us like this Conclave runs on some unspoken first-come-first-serve rule.” 

Maris gave a haughty sarcastic laugh, “You and Daeron are not above honour and dignity. My father is already insulted that one daughter has been rejected by a Targaryen Prince. What do you think he will do when he learns that another did the same to the other daughter? Especially to another Celtigar whore. A fat one at that.” 

And that is what sets him off. 

In an instant he is out of his seat and before she could react, Aemond’s hand is planted on her shoulder, pressing her back securely against the chair. He took care in not being painful, but firm, a reminder that he has power over her in ways other than political. With his other hand he is pointing at her, looming over her now stunned form, his one eye widening threateningly. 

“You dare threaten the crown?!”

“I wasn’t threatening–”

“Do not,” he punctuated the word by pushing her harsher against the back of the chair, making her wince and shrink in on herself. “Insult my intelligence by playing innocent, Maris. You know exactly what you are implying, which by itself is an act of treason, enough for you to be hanged publicly. But I will be merciful this one time and one time only, Maris, as I remind you why your connotations are foolish beyond belief.” He moved his other hand to the back of the chair behind her free shoulder as he lowered himself at eye level, his nose poised over her like a wolf crowding the space of a small, wounded prey animal. 

“Aegon the Conqueror brought the Seven Kingdoms to their knees with only two wives and three dragons. Today, his descendents have a total of ten dragonriders who all have full grown dragons. What do you think will happen to your father’s little corner of Westeros should he dare raise his banners against the Throne, hm? Especially over something as petty as two jilted daughters. Your house will be eradicated, erased from the waking world just like House Durrandon before it.  

“I trust your father is smart enough to understand that, Maris. He can puff and huff all he wants, but at the end of the day… We have the real power, and I have no qualms reminding Borros and yourself of this fact by myself. So if you value your life, Maris, it would be wise of you to not direct passive threats in the direction of those that could incinerate you and your kin in seconds

“And if I ever hear you speak of Valeana Celtigar in any other way other than absolute reverence, I will personally cut out your tongue.” 

Twenty-four hours had passed since Maris had spoken with Aemond in the library, and Maris’ fury grew with every passing hour. Her initial fear dwindled to pent-up frustrations, resentment and jealousy, overshadowing her common sense and effectively ignoring Aemond’s very real threat. She was a woman possessed with retribution, and her mind reeled with various scenarios and possibilities in which she’ll get what she was owed: a royal marriage and respect. 

Before Aemond had even spoken to her, Maris was aware of the trajectory her supposed courtship with him was going. Ever since the public execution of Vaemond Velaryon, the whispers about Valeana Celtigar secretly courting Prince Aemond (on top of publicly courting Prince Jacaerys and Prince Aegon) had increased ever since people saw her cling to the prince’s arm. Then the whispers amplified these past couple of days after the castle servants had leaked some interesting tidbits about the private dinner with the Valyrian houses (something that Maris believed the Baratheons should have been a part of, but her opinions fell on deaf ears). Due to all of this, Maris had already started out her plotting, depending on the direction she needed this to go in. However, after yesterday in the library, Maris was now desperate and seeing red. 

For the better part of the mid-day, Maris had been watching Aemond train in the lower courtyard, alongside some other lordlings and the Hightower cousins. The tourney will be beginning in a few day’s time, and all the men that were competing were getting as much time training as they possibly can. She was lurking in the shadows of the second floor loggia like many of the other women, watching from afar. Her patience paid off when Aemond wiped his brow, face, and hands, and then sheathed his sword. When he parted from the others, Maris moved away from her position against a pillar and walked towards where she’d surely cross paths with him. 

As predicted, she intercepted him just before he made it to the spiral staircase that would lead him down to the entrance of Maegor’s Holdfast. As soon as Aemond made eye contact with Maris, his jaw went taut and his shoulders tensed. Maris already knew what he was thinking, knew that her presence was the last thing he desired, but Maris didn’t care. She didn’t care, because once she was done with him, he won’t be able to get rid of her. 

“Lady Maris–” Aemond cut himself off when two lords walked by, sparing them a single glance. Aemond’s eye watched them leave before returning it onto the brunette. “I thought I made myself clear yesterday, that I did not want to entertain this–”

“Oh, I remember what you said, Prince Aemond,” she spoke with an air of nonchalance, of innocence. Her eyes flickered over his shoulder where she spotted her sisters rounding the corner. “But I elected to ignore it.”

And just before Aemond could react beyond the look of incredulity, Maris gripped the front of his doublet and pulled him down to her level and crashed her lips onto his. She knew from this angle, from behind Aemond, it would have looked like Aemond had leaned down to kiss her.

Taking a leaf out of the Celtigar handbook, Maris thought smugly. 

Wedding prepping was stressful, that much Valeana understood, but wedding planning under a time constraint for a royal was even worse. Not to mention the Cetligars, Targaryens and even the Hightowers were doing damage control over the gossip. Though there was little they could do about that, given the fact that the gossip was true, and people weren’t stupid enough to believe that they were rushing the wedding because Daeron and Shyla were so madly in love. It was obvious to everyone in all of the Seven Kingdoms that Daeron couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, and Shyla was… well, there were mixed opinions. Given her overall sweet, naive, demeanor, some people believed she was tricked into a coupling, others who were more close to Prince Daeron and a few other healthy skeptics believed that Shyla was the one who tricked him. Even going as far as to assume Shyla’s nature was due to having “Valeana as an older sister”. Of course, their assumptions were correct, that Shyla was the trickster, but it had nothing to do with Valeana. 

Now, this would become Valeana’s problem anyway, because even if the spotlight was no longer directly on her, her name was frequently evoked as if she had some kind of hand in it. Yes, her ‘courting’ three royal princes, while her younger sister managed to bag the other, didn’t look very good. And yes, Valeana slightly resented her younger sister for making her life even more difficult, because as soon as the excitement dies down around Shyla and Daeron’s nuptials, people will rear their faces her way again, waiting to see what and who her next move is.

The reality of it was that Valeana didn’t truly know what her next move was going to be. There was very little vacancy in her mind nowadays that had nothing to do with Shyla and Daeron’s wedding. Her conversation with Aemond the other day still hung fresh in her mind, and since then she chewed down on her nails on whether or not she asked too much from him. Then there was the Aegon of it all… or rather, the lack of Aegon. She hadn’t seen him since he fled her bedchamber that night when they heard her father’s screaming… Not even a glimpse or a note, which was incredibly out of character. It had made her begin to worry that something happened, or some development changed under all the chaos that night seemed to bring. There was also the undeniable speculation of rejection, that Aegon had changed his mind rapidly and without ceremony. Whatever the reason was, it made Valeana’s gut feel ill at ease, but she tried not to dwell on it too much, not when there was already so much on her mind already.

Spending the better part of the morning and midday with Shyla, Floris, and their mother was utter torture. Ursula had made all the choices regarding theme, colours, and styles of everything, but that didn’t stop Shyla from whining and disapproving. While Valeana spent the entire time silent, lost in her world, lost in thoughts of Aemond and Aegon, Floris wouldn’t stop making passive aggressive remarks about everything, and she would always seem to have reason to bring up Lord Larys. It was worse than Shyla’s whining.

 In the end, Shyla got olive green fabrics for her wedding gown, a strategic colour to appease the Hightowers while also maintaining a muted, less eye-catching palette to humble the Celtigars. Valeana knew that had it been under different, more favourable circumstances, the colour palette for this wedding would have been far more vibrant, especially since it was the first child of Bartimos Celtigar that was getting married, and to a Prince no less. 

When they were finished with the day, they traveled back to the Red Keep, exhausted both physically and mentally. Ursula parted from them to go join her husband, the Lord Hand, and the King and Queen in the Small Council Chambers to discuss the marriage contract, leaving the Sirens of Claw Isle to their own devices. 

“Honestly, I cannot believe that Shyla, out of three of us, would be the first to marry,” Floris huffed as they walked past the training yard towards the lower courtyard. 

“So you’ve said…. Thirty times today,” Valeana sighed. “Though, I am not surprised. Out of the three of us, Shyla has been the most… direct when it comes to the opposite sex.”

“A bit too direct,” Floris muttered as she turned to look at Shyla who was walking to Valeana’s right. 

Shyla just looked up with raised eyebrows and an innocent smile, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweet sister.” 

Floris narrowed her eyes at her, hummed darkly, then slowly looked away. When she turned forward, her eyes caught a flash of silver above her, forcing her to look up at the loggia that looked down at the small courtyard that led to Maegor’s Holdfast. There, partially obstructed between pillars and the shadows casted by them, stood Prince Aemond and Lady Maris. Before Floris could even point it out teasingly to Valeana, she saw Aemond’s face being jerked down with a sharp dug of his jerkin, and then Maris crashing her lips onto his. 

“Valeana–” Floris’ lip began to twitch upwards in a venomous grin.

Valeana paused her stride, snapping to look at Floris curiously and immediately saw her looking at something with barely contained glee. Valeana followed her gaze, and when she saw it, her heart stopped. 

From her angle, it looked exactly the way Maris had intended it to look… Like Aemond had leaned down and kissed Maris willingly. Of course it made Valeana’s heart twist painfully, of course the colour drained from her face in shock and confusion, of course her world at her feet felt like it was caving in. But that all disappeared in the very brief second that the kiss had lasted, because when she caught sight of Cassandra, Ellyn and Floris Baratheon speed walking towards them, Valeana knew exactly what was happening. 

She gathered up her skirts in her hand, yanking it up to her knees, and then sprinted towards the spiral staircase. With her heart hammering in her chest and her pulse beating against her temple, she could not hear the shouts nor the hurried stampede of dainty feet. She didn’t even fully register that the stairs in which she was climbing up were the very stairs she had fallen down from and broke her leg. Her anxiety had a different, more important priority.

When Valeana reached the top of the stairs, many things happened all at once in two single seconds. The first thing she noticed was how far Aemond had pushed himself away from Maris, with his face etched in stunned fury. The next thing she noticed was the scandalous look on Cassandra’s face, the stunned expressions on Ellyn and Young Floris’, and the flushed and subtly smugness of Maris’. There were a chorus of words being shouted that Valeana didn’t fully register; accusations flung around, outraged on both sides, but immediately that all changed when she had appeared. Heads snapped in her direction, Aemond’s eye widening into a saucer. 

“Valeana– It’s not– this is not–” He stumbled through his words, tangled in his anger, shock, and frustration. 

“It’s exactly what it looks like!” Maris shot back, pulling herself away from her sisters to look at Aemond and then Valeana. “Prince Aemond was ravishing–”

“Maris,” Ellyn hissed, gripping her older sister’s arm.

“Shut it, Ellyn,” Maris hissed back, then whipped her head back between Aemond and Valeana. Maris pulled from her sister’s grip and sauntered closer, her arms crossed over her chest, “It seems that we were caught in a compromising position, my Prince. Now, you must marry me if you wish to avoid a scandal and suffer the wrath of my father.” 

“Oh, absolutely the fuck not,” Valeana stepped in front of Maris, and at that moment more footsteps could be heard from behind her, followed by the sounds of Shyla and Elder Floris’ panting. 

Shyla’s large eyes were darting around the scene in shock, and when they landed on her former friend, Floris Baratheon, her cheeks tinged in the tiniest show of remorse-red before her face snapped to Valeana’s. 

“What is happening–”

“What’s happening, Lady Shyla,” Maris answered instead, her tone clipped and mocking. “Is that Prince Aemond has publicly declared himself to me–”

“Are you mad?!” Aemond barked at her, his face a mask of fury, his hands in tight fists at his sides as he tried his hardest not to strike a woman. “You forced yourself onto me.”

“Me? Forced myself onto you, a dragon? Oh, a likely story that no one will believe, especially since my sisters here had seen the whole thing!”

“Enough of this absurdity,” Valeana stepped up towards Maris, not believing a damn word she said, because it was, as she said, absurd. Ellyn’s words to her a few days ago rang in her ear like the bells of the Sept; the warning of Maris being reactionary, that she might do something explosive. Clearly this spectacle was inspired by Shyla’s, though obviously tampered down to just a kiss as Aemond would have never allowed himself to be seduced by a shrew. “You are lying through your teeth, Baratheon.”

“Am I?” Maris smirked confidently,  her arms still crossed as she strolled into Valeana’s space. There was a dangerous glint in her dark eyes, one that made Valeana a bit unnerved, but she stood her ground. “You would love to believe I’m lying, wouldn’t you? Alas, I have three witnesses. Sisters? Did you not witness the Prince kiss me brazenly in this corridor?”

Maris turned her head over her shoulder to address the other three storms. Cassandra confidently said ‘yes’, gesturing to Aemond that is indeed what she saw. Aemond of course protested and called Cassandra a liar. When the heated stares landed on young Floris, her answer was a meak, almost guilty nod, confirming what she saw. However, when Maris’ eyes fixed on Ellyn, they narrowed as her second youngest sister remained quiet. 

“Well, Ellyn? Isn’t that what you saw?”

Ellyn’s wide eyes bounced between Valeana to Maris, and then finally onto Aemond. Her lips pursed, clearly at war with her thoughts, her morals. From her angle, it indeed looked like Aemond was kissing Maris, though Ellyn knew better to even entertain the possibility of that being true. But before she could even utter a single word, Maris groaned in impatience. 

“Enough with that stupid look on your face. You know what you saw, Ellyn!” 

Ellyn’s face morphed into one of contempt, “What I saw, Maris, was an act of desperation from a scorned woman with an ego the size of the North.” 

Maris’ own face turned into a look of angered offense, and was quick to twist around and point a finger at Ellyn, with her tongue poised like a sword. However, before she could lash out with insults, elder Floris stepped up, vibrating in elation at how this turned out to be. 

“I saw exactly what happened,” She began with her nose arched in the air, though her lips twitched as she struggled to contain her wolfish, smug grin. “Down there in the small courtyard, I witnessed Prince Aemond bowing his head to meet Maris in a kiss.”

All heads snapped in her direction, especially Valeana’s and Aemond’s, who glowered at her like nothing in the world was more offensive. With her head tilted back, Maris gave a guffaw in victory at Elder Floris’ declaration. 

“Does your bitterness have no bounds, Floris?” Valeana furrowed her brow at her step sister, with her hands curled into fists at her sides. Even if she and her step sister were not exactly the best of friends, or remotely close for that matter, it still felt like a betrayal. After all, family meant that they were supposed to have your back no matter what the personal circumstance. “This is not just my life you toy with!” 

Floris feigned a look of innocence, or at least tried. Her wide eyes and twitching lip betrayed her satisfaction over getting revenge against both her step sister and the Prince she had once ‘helped’ and was snubbed in return. “Why, Valeana, not everything I do is about you. I am merely speaking true to what I saw.” 

Just when Valeana and Aemond were about to say something, Shyla spoke up, “Mayhaps you should get your eyes checked by a maester dear sister, for I am sure we both witnessed Prince Aemond push Lady Maris off of her before we ran up the stairs.” 

“Thank you, Shyla,” Valeana reached to grip her younger sister’s upper arm in gratitude, but before anything else could be said or done further, Maris of course stepped forward, crowding Valeana’s space. 

“Oh, please, as if the word of your tramp of a sister has any merit to those that matter,” Maris’ insult didn’t seem to perturb Shyla in the least bit, but it did offend Valeana, who as an older sister, took it like a personal jibe at herself and her family. 

“You dare insult my sister, a future princess of the Realm, after you force yourself on the son of the King? Are you daft or mad, Maris, because I cannot decide which if not both.” 

Maris’ dark eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment her face blanched at the insult of her being daft. Truly the highest of insults for a woman like her, who prided her intelligence above all things. But then her thinned out lips turned into a wicked smirk, and it made the hairs on the back of Valeana’s neck stand on end, like an animal sensing a storm.

“Oh, little Valeana, this is quite pathetic of you, is it not? Coming to the rescue of a man that cares so little about you that he had pushed you down a flight of stairs just to get away from you–”

“Careful Maris,” Aemond warned, taking a step forward until he was at Valeana’s side. “You speak of things you do not understand, and you already tread on very thin ice.” 

Maris was clearly not seeing common sense presently, her pride wounded, her ego large, and she was living off of the adrenaline of kissing Aemond and having witnesses to it. She was very clearly convinced it was enough of a compromising position to force Aemond’s hand into marrying her. Aemond’s threats from the previous day were likely so far from her mind that it might as well have never happened. 

She scoffed at his words, and then looked at Valeana with abhorred incredulity, “What I don’t understand, my dearest future groom, is why all the damn Targaryen princes are so bloody infatuated with this–”

“Maris, perhaps you should–” Cassandra’s voice of reason was cut off and promptly ignored. 

“Pig in a dress.”

Valeana felt herself bristle all over, a shock of both hot and cold rippling through her body at the offense. That word: pig has haunted her, her entire life and in her dreams. That single syllable was enough to gut her and paralyse her, even if it came from the lips of Maris Baratheon, a person Valeana does not care about in the slightest. Yet still, when she had flung that word at her like a throwing knife, all Valeana could think about were those words spoken to her the second before she was pushed down these very stairs by Aemond. 

“Get away from me, you pig!”

“Maris, I warned you–”

“You warned me about what? Speaking the truth? Why, I’m simply echoing your own opinion, am I not? Because from what I’ve heard, that is exactly why you pushed her down a flight of stairs; you couldn’t stand the thought of being betrothed to a fat pig.”

Aemond took a step threateningly in Maris’ direction, gently pushing Valeana behind him to make his body a human shield against the Storm’s verbal barrage. “You shut your mouth, Baratheon, or I’ll cut off your tongue and sew your mouth shut.” 

“Aemond,” Valeana placed a hand on his upper arm, and though her tone was gentle and placating, her face was etched in a decade long emotional pain that she wished not to relive. Her brow was furrowed and creased in contempt, but her heart rate was starting to increase with each passing nerve-wracking second this stressful scenario passed. “Do not let her provoke you anymore. She’s just bitter and so desperate she has lost all sense.”

Maris practically gasped at Valeana’s words, her hands flew to firmly land on her narrow hips, “Desperate? No, no, no, I am merely claiming what I am owed. The Prince courted me. He chose me.”

“And I ended the courtship yesterday. You have no claim on me, as I’ve thoroughly explained to you, Maris,” Aemond’s eye narrowed at her, the violet of his eye looking like a pale amethyst chip. “Your asinine attempt to force me into a betrothal with you is utterly pathetic, and will be your undoing. How is it that a woman with your intellect cannot comprehend basic speech? Listen closely, for I will not have myself repeating it: You will never be my wife, Maris Baratheon.”

That seemed to have sufficiently snapped Maris. Whatever shred of sanity that was left in that mad, mad mind of hers frayed and disappeared. For what came next no one could have predicted, least of all Valeana, who was still too focused on the situation at hand to realize exactly where she was standing. 

Maris’ lips thinned in a dangerous, tense and false smile, emphasized by her wide, crazed eyes and the subtle shake of her hands at her sides. “I hear you loud and clear, Prince Aemond. I will never be your wife… And neither shall Valeana Celtigar.”

Giving no room for a reaction, Maris lunged forward, arms extended like two javelins as she planted her palms firmly on Valeana’s shoulders. The fair-haired woman’s eyes flew open wide, her pupils shrinking as she felt her own heart pause in shock and panic. Her lips parted to say something, but all she could do was gasp sharply as Maris shoved her back. 

And that is when the world disappeared underneath her, and all she could hear was her own scream and the frantic heartbeat against her temples. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT SNEAK PEEK There is no sneak peek. Y'all shall hang on that literal cliffhanger and wonder.

Notes: Maris be crazy, guys I told y'all. She's still my favourate Storm, though, just simply because of her 'no balls' comment to Aemond in the book. It was the comment that started the war, after all. Absolute queen, there would be no dance without her saltiness. Anyway... has anyone seen Aegon? No? Weird. Where is he... hummm Okay but for real talk !!IMPORTANT NOTE!! I am in need of a 14-20 day hiatus. The muse is struggling through these next couple of chapters, and I want to catch up to my quota, and start on that Aegon one shot I mentioned months ago, lol. And honestly, that ending felt like the PERFECT opportunity to leave y'all waiting. I have impeccable timing.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[milunalupin]

For your valentine event, how about ❤️ soulmate ; friends to lovers for Harry Potter with the trope “thanks for making today a little less depressing.”? I imagine Harry never really had a proper Valentines Day before Hogwarts and the reader wants to change that for him ☺️

apologies for the late response my love but here is a little harry on valentine's day for you ! <3

— heart to heart

harry potter x reader ★ 837 words

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts wasn’t something Harry had ever really celebrated. A simple day for lovers, for couples, for people who didn’t have a lifetime of danger and loss hanging over their heads. Love wasn't something he would say he's experienced much in life, apart from his best friends he was lucky enough to meet at school.

But he found a different kind of love the moment you entered his life. You never saw him as the ‘Chosen One,’ nor did you pity his past. Through you, he came to understand the true meaning of kindness and sincerity, feeling them in ways he never had before.

For you, Valentine’s Day had always been a cheerful occasion. It wasn’t just about heart-shaped chocolates or bouquets of flowers, but about taking a moment to show the people you cared about how much they meant to you.

You noticed it early in the week—how the thought of Valentine’s Day made Harry retreat into himself. Forced smiles and distant eyes, like he was already counting down the days until it was over.

So you decided to change that.

It was the morning of February 14th when you approached him in the common room. He was sitting by the fireplace, his worn-out copy of Quidditch Through the Ages spread across his lap. His glasses were slipping down his nose, eyes squinting at the page.

“Harry,” you said, walking over to him with a small but determined smile. “I need your help with something.”

He looked up from the book, giving you a distracted, confused look. “What’s up?”

“I have a plan for today, and you’re part of it,” you said, sitting down beside him and leaning over to pull a small, folded note from your bag. You handed it to him. “Read this.”

Harry blinked at you, then unfolded the note carefully. Inside were your scribbled plans for the day—an escape from the usual routine of classes and the lingering gloom. You had arranged a picnic, complete with homemade sandwiches, pumpkin juice, and a few of his favorite treats.

“You’re serious?” Harry asked, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “You want to spend Valentine’s Day with me? You know it’s not really… my thing, right?”

“That’s okay,” you said with a warm grin. “We’ll figure it out together. No pressure.”

And so, you spent the day together. No extravagant plans, no rush. You sat in the soft grass by the edge of the Black Lake, enjoying the peaceful afternoon, watching the giant squid playfully surface from time to time.

You had packed a few little gifts—nothing too fancy, just small tokens of appreciation. You handed Harry a box of chocolate frogs with a grin. “A little something for your sweet tooth.”

He laughed quietly, taking the box from you. “You know me too well,” he said, his voice finally sounding lighter.

Later, as the two of you walked through the grounds, Harry paused, taking in the sight of the sky turning from soft pink to deep purple as the sun began to set. He let out a long sigh, a contented one.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “I didn’t know Valentine’s Day could actually be… fun.”

You smiled at him, the warmth spreading in your chest. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

There was a long pause before Harry turned to face you, his gaze soft but intense. “You’re not like anyone else,” he said quietly. “Most people feel sorry for me, but you—” He shook his head, as if he didn’t quite know how to finish the thought.

“You don’t need to apologize for who you are, Harry,” you said, stepping a little closer to him. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re a burden. You’re my friend, and… well, you mean a lot to me.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the honesty in your voice. The air between you seemed to crackle with something unspoken, something that neither of you quite knew how to define, but you both felt it.

“I…” He hesitated, running a hand through his untamable hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You gave him a playful smile. “Good thing you don’t have to find out.”

He chuckled softly, a real, genuine laugh that made your heart flutter. “Thanks for making today a little less depressing,” he said, his voice warm.

You reached out and squeezed his hand, “You deserve to be happy, Harry. And if I can be the one to make that happen, I’ll do it every day.”

His eyes softened, and for the briefest moment, it seemed like the world around you disappeared. All that mattered was the connection between the two of you, something deeper than just friendship.

And in that moment, Harry smiled, not just because of the chocolates, the picnic, or the day itself—but because for the first time in a long time, he truly felt seen.

And for you, that was all that mattered.

[redcamellia13]

Mitsukou Analysis: Nightlife Arc

I have to be honest, I didn’t think I would get this far. I thought I would give up in the middle of these analyses, and I would be saved from making this one, but alas, here we are.

(Who am I kidding, chapter 120’s gonna be so. Much. Worse.)

This isn’t quite as important as the other events that happen in this arc, but it’s still of note how our Mitsuba becomes a smiling little angel over here, and this is Kou’s actual response: “……welp.

I don’t… why would you do that? He didn’t even answer the question! If Nene asked him that, he would probably grin and go, “yeah! :D”.

This is kind of a crack theory, however, this panel ties in ever so slightly.

Have you ever read KotLC? Not a lot of people in the TBHk fandom do, but one of the concepts in the novels is people have “heart emotions” and “head emotions”, which are two completely different things.

I believe Kou think he likes Nene, which he doesn’t, that’s simply a result of Nene being somewhat close to his type and the only girl he interacts with on a daily basis, and his mind is molding that into making him believe he likes Nene. (Kou’s head feelings).

Because of numerous circumstances, like Mitsuba being supernatural, a boy, and a wee bit of a b*tch towards Kou, Kou believes his relationship with him is somewhere between annoying kid that lives across the street, and best friend. (Also his head feelings).

But deep, deep down, in the place where his brain cannot influence his feelings into something safer, Kou has a serious crush on this boy- and The Look TM we see in these panels might signify a bit of that crush influencing his decisions. (Heart feelings.)

I dunno, but the moment I picked up TBHk, that is what I immediately thought of. By the way, please read KotLC. I started when I was in 1st grade, and it was so. Dang. Good. Changed my life, highly recommend, and kick started my reading obsession.

Basically, what’s happening in this page is Mitsuba is telling Kou he wants to die, and when Kou is understandably like, “w-wait. What? You wanna die?” Mitsuba kinda just brushes it off.

Why? I don’t have an exact answer (quite a common theme in these analyses) but we can rule a few things out right off the bat.

He’s not trying to ease Kou’s mind, or protect him from the truth since in Sacrifice of the Grim Reaper, Mitsuba actually became mad a Kou for attempting to do the same to him.

Maybe Mitsuba’s the type to always have an exit plan, and always has one foot out the door? But that seems more like an Aoi thing than anything else…

Ah yes, I was wondering when Kou’s savior complex would rear its ugly head once more.

Mitsuba is telling Kou Tsukasa is the only one who can put him back together, and procure him the supernatural hearts he needs to survive.

Obviously, Kou is not happy about this, since he wants Mitsuba to rely on him and only him, exemplified by his desires in the Red House.

So what does he do next? Make it blatantly clear he can do exactly the same thing as Tsukasa.

Kou is attempting to *checks notes* shove a “disgusting looking thing” down Mitsuba’s gullet. How lovely.

What this means for Kou’s psychology, and what he is trying to say through this, consciously or unconsciously, boils down to: “I can get you the same things as he can.”

Many people are using this scene as an example of Mitsukou’s toxicity, which is ridiculous, and I shouldn’t even have to defend/ explain this.

Yes, Kou is force feeding Mitsuba, and yes, it is without Mitsuba’s consent. We even see him protesting, telling Kou he said no.

This is the primary argument used by the aforementioned people, but what they fail to mention is Mitsuba would literally die if he stopped eating. This is not Kou being abusive, this is Kou saving his best friend’s life.

Wow. I can’t decide if Kou being furious came completely out of left field considering his personality or if I saw this coming from a mile away.

I also can’t decide whether it’s understandable why he’s so angry, or if Kou’s being unnecessarily aggressive.

On one hand, your friend is being a spoilt little baby and not eating. On the other, did you even try to convince him to eat it? Not really… he just kinda popped in with a corpse, gouged out the heart and stuck it in his face.

Kou is also this angry since he’s still dealing with the fact Mitsuba relies on Tsukasa now, not just him, and he’s taking it out on Mitsuba.

This signifies how Kou sometimes gets tunnel vision when it comes to Mitsuba, a bit like how Hanako gets tunnel vision when it comes to Nene’s lifespan- although in Kou’s case it isn’t quite so dramatic or common

(Not listening to Mitsuba in order to keep him from worrying too much in the Sacrifice of the Grim Realer Arc would be another example).

Wow, I didn’t think he would actually go and say it! He’s spilling his guts out to Mitsuba right here, and all three of the things he says are an integral part of his character.

I don’t think he has ever confessed this to any character. This is kind of a big deal, actually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I’m… gonna have to stop here for now. My fingers physically hurt, and the word Mitsukou doesn’t have meaning in my mind anymore. I’ll close out the arc by next Monday.

[iffeelscouldkill]

Mincéir // An Luch Siúil // The Walking People

my controversial opinion is that real progress in the north won't be achieved until the world decides to consider the native irish people a white indigenous population like the sámi

[volfoss]

back to bad comics

[ID: A cartoonish illustration of an ant holding a bindle. /end ID]

[incomplete-ruler]

Posting this meme as courtesy for the personal posts I've made over the past week (most of them are privated/deleted now):

[the-name-is-loser]

Finding out odd things in the Splatoon fandom

[dirt-str1der]

WHY DID YOU FEEL THE NEED TO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR AROACE SENKU HEADCANON ON MY GAY SENKU AND TRANS REI POST

Just finished Dr Stone Reboot