#but i still care for them and i am excited to see them grow and still active after eveyrthing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vibelladonna · 5 months ago

Text

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Ah, kinks—something all humans have, especially those who read fanfics. I mean, who doesn’t love them? Whether it’s the soft, the spicy, or the downright unhinged, there’s always something that hits just right.

Let’s be real: scrolling through AO3, Tumblr, or Wattpad at 3 AM, looking for that one specific trope that scratches the brain itch?

Yeah, we’ve all been there.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet.

Hope you enjoy reading!

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with the man himself—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. Though the details are still unclear, he exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy.

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…)

For Crowe preferences!!

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished.

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender.

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after.

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment.

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment.

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin.

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew.

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore.

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer.

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable.

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy.

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down.

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions.

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous.

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache.

You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you with his cock, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His fingers tease your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want, love. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing down lightly as if testing the waters.

A soft moan released from your lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His soft gin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory.

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears running down your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him.

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you.

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences.

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor.

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability.

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there.

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed.

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching.

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares.

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away.

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break.

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior.

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable.

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it.

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

✑ Somnophillia

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend.

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you.

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you.

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.

God, he was losing it.

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further.

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly.

Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it?

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry!

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything.

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special.

So sacred.

There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Even the shadowed obsession that came with it.

#the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back crowe #the kid at the back sol #solivan brugmansia #jericho ichabod #tkatb #tkatb crowe #tkatb sol #the kid at the back vn #crowe ichabod #crowe x reader #sol x reader #sol brugmansia #tkatb vn #tkatb smut #tkatb head canons #tkatb x reader

3K notes · View notes

luvyeni · 7 months ago

Text

( reaction ) unintentionally riding them ! ୨୧ 一 엔시티드림 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ unintentionally riding nct dream on a rideヾ

boyfriend!엔시티드림・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ nudes , allusions to sex wc ・ ‎n/a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ click to library

request. hear me out…… what about nct dream going with yn to that ride disco pang pang and you end up on top of them (idk if you’ve seen a video that’s been going around where a girl is literally riding other girl😭)

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 those rides are scary as hell i couldn't imagine falling into a strangers lap like the video.

﹙ 𐙚 : mark﹚ .ᐟ

he knows you mean no harm; the ride was quite literally tossing you both around , and you just happened to land on him — but it didn't stop his cock from growing inside is jeans. he's stressed , he knows you feel it. “fu-fuck im so sorry.” he said , your face is hot , cheeks are rosy as you feel him beneath you , he's embarrassed , but so turned on , he was gonna cum . “but fuck you feel good , im sorry , im so sorry .” he's just wishing the damn ride would end.

“fuck im sorry but im about to cum.”

﹙ 𐙚 : renjun﹚ .ᐟ

he's embarrassed as hell; but his ass is not about to let you know that. “re-renjun are you hard?” he scoffed , rolling his eyes. “you're straddling me , and this ride is bouncing you on my dick , of course I'm hard , wouldn't you be hard if you were in my position? i know you're probably turned on right now , don't make it seem like it's only me.” he stressed , he's about to cum in his pants and he wasn't about to give you leverage to further tease him. “oh fuck will this ride ever fucking end.”

“we're leaving this fucking amusement park arter this.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jeno﹚ .ᐟ

his hands immediately come to your waist to hold you from falling when the ride tossed you into his lap. “hi.” he tries to smile it off — even though the ride is practically bouncing you on his dick. you're actually the one profusely apologizing , but he pretends that it doesn't even bother him , even though he's hard a fucking rock and you're riding him unintentionally in front of all these people and he has to force himself not to moan. “i don't think i can get up after this.” he said. “it's already embarrassing with you on top of me.”

“i don't want these people to see my dick hard.”

﹙ 𐙚 : haechan﹚ .ᐟ

shameless motherfucker; you would've thought he was already hard before the ride tossed you into the boys lap. “haechan are you serious?” he smirking holding you close by your waist. “you're grinding on top of me and you're confused as to why im hard.” he scoffed , your eyes widened at his sudden brazen attitude , you knew he was a wild card but even this was too much for you. you only come back when he groans , he doesn't even care.

“fuck if this ride doesn't stop soon i’m gonna cum.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jaemin﹚ .ᐟ

with the smirk on his face , you would've thought he orgistrated the entire thing himself , his hands on your waist , meanwhile you're the one who's embarrassed as hell. “why are you so embarrassed?” he knew you could feel his hard on , he could feel you as well. “im-im glad you're having a good time.” you on the other hand , your body was on fire. “I am baby i am.” the ride still tossing you around but he made sure to hold you still.

“but i'm more excited about the time we're about to have when we get off this ride.”

﹙ 𐙚 : chenle﹚ .ᐟ

completely turns it on you; yeah he's the one thats hard , but you're the one on top of him and you're the one who caused it in his eyes , not the ride. “if you wanted to ride me you should've just asked , not force me on this nauseating ride so you can do it shamelessly.” you wanted to slap him so bad , but you were too busy grabbing the bar to keep yourself from flying off. “sh-shut up.” your face hot from embarrassment as you straddled him. “im not gonna cum in my pants like a teenager.”

“but all bets are off when we get off this ride.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jisung﹚ .ᐟ

he wants to kill himself to moment he feels you on top of him; his face is red , he wanted to die — but it felt good and that's what made him feel like a pervert , because it wasn't sexual , but his stupid cock didn't seem to get the message. he swore the person who managed the ride had something against him because the ride was never ending and no matter how many times you tried to get up , the ride was plopping you back into his lap. “ji-jisung.” your hands holding his shoulders , he stops you before you can finish.

“please don't say anything , im sorry , so fucking sorry.”

©LUVYENI

3K notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 4 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 8] Bargain

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

*happy new year🫶

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

There’s been a mood shift in the room. You weren’t cheery before per say, but you definitely weren’t like this. It feels as if the place has shifted from a warm orange hue to cold blue.

Perhaps it was always like this and he didn’t notice. He’s come to see you in a different light after you announced that you didn’t care for the babies. He shouldn’t care if you want the babies or not, as long as you nurture them when they’re born– Yet, he can’t help but dwell on the thought.

“Are they kicking?” Sukuna asks, watching as you slowly eat the food that’s in front of you. Maybe things look more drastically different since his perspective of you has changed, but some things are absolutely different. You’re barely talking.

Sukuna is trying to make conversation with a woman for fuck’s sake. A woman is only good for having sex in his eyes, he shouldn’t be trying to make conversation.

“No.” You answer as you continue to quietly eat your dinner.

“You’re going to give birth soon, no?” He questions and you shrug. You’ve lost track of time. Winter has just begun… Or is it ending soon? Days all seem the same that you’ve lost track of time. You’re due sometime in the spring, that much you know. “Will you use your words?”

“How do you want me to respond? I don’t know, my dear king?” You respond and he furrows his brows. He doesn’t like the hint of attitude that comes with your words. But there’s something Sukuna knows: beggars can’t be choosers, therefore he won’t reprimand you for speaking to him like that.

“The servants are working on clothes for them.” Sukuna announces, and you don’t react in any way. It’s fine, he didn’t expect you to. Though he won’t lie and say that he isn’t looking at your face to see some sort of excitement at the mention of the babies. He doesn’t know why, but he wants you to get excited about them.

“I’m finished. May I go to sleep?” You question, as you try to get up from your seat– A true struggle lately considering your belly is huge.

“Since when do you care to ask for permission?” He replies, and he’s met with a cold glare.

“I��m your prisoner, am I not?” You respond, and Sukuna realizes that your recent behavior is all tied back to that.

You’ve been having nightmares lately, and it becomes hard for Sukuna to ignore. It’s every night, and he isn’t sure what to do. At first he would simply watch you as you helplessly tossed and turned, but lately they’ve gotten more intense. Sukuna can’t stand and watch.

He’s growing soft, he knows he is. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be holding you to his chest, hand caressing your back. He needs you to rest enough, and that’s not possible if your nightmares get the best of you. If you’re tossing and turning, calling out for help then you’re not resting.

He wants to know the root of the bad dreams, but he doesn’t care enough to look into the issue. He doesn’t mind this position though, holding you is like holding a little warm ball. He’d never say it outloud, but he’s cold; he won’t shiver or tremble, but he’s still cold.

“Sukuna.” He’s falling asleep, but your soft voice wakes him up. “What are you doing?”

“You have nightmares.” He informs you, as if you were unaware of your own dreams. Is this why you haven’t been waking lately? Has he been comforting you?

“I’m sorry.” You feel the odd need to apologize, something that irritates Sukuna’s ears. It ends up with him scolding you,

“You don’t ever apologize.” Which is quickly followed by another apology from you. He can’t win with you, and it’s fine. He won’t scold you again. Sukuna can’t help but ask, “What have you been dreaming about anyway?”

“Nothing.” You answer, which makes Sukuna put you back down on the futon. Of course you won’t open up so easily, but it frustrates him. His behavior is what dug him into this hole, he shouldn’t care.

“Do the babies cause you discomfort?” Sukuna questions, and you chuckle.

“When do they not?” You respond. “Falling asleep is a struggle, it’s no surprise I’m having nightmares.”

“Are you having nightmares related to them?” Sukuna questions, and you remain silent. While Sukuna would take that answer as a yes, he isn’t sure this time around. He isn’t great at picking up social cues, but he’s pretty damn sure that he’s on the receiving end of the silent treatment.

Sukuna takes a long time to think about this weird situation. He asked Uraume about this, but they didn’t have a good answer– Then he asked Hina, an answer that he quickly dismissed. He tries to recall what that answer was.

Then it dawns on him, “A woman dropped off a baby.”

“Your next meal, huh? Enjoy.” You respond, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. You’ve gotten bold, he’ll give you that.

“I don’t eat babies.” He answers. “Babies that are dropped off are raised as servants.”

No answer.

“You can ask Uraume if you want to visit him tomorrow.” Sukuna adds, and your interest is piqued.

“Him? It’s a boy?” You question, and Sukuna hums in response. You furrow your eyebrows, realizing that Sukuna is doing this for a reason. He wants you to look at a baby and think of the children that you grow inside of you. It’s not going to work though, there’s no way in hell that you’ll end up caring for his kids.

“Do you want to meet him or not?” Sukuna presses for an answer, wondering if Hina’s advice is any good. He might just kill her tomorrow if you refuse. Though, you adore Hina and he has to get on your good side so he might just spare her.

“Sure.”

“Uraume, why are you here?” You question when Sukuna's dear servant comes into your room. You rarely see them unless Sukuna is around. Sukuna is tending other business which means that you’re alone– Alone in the sense that he isn’t breathing down your neck, you’re still being watched by everyone else.

“King Sukuna told me you were meeting the baby. He wants me to take you there.” Uraume answers, and you sigh. He’s set on you meeting that baby, he so desperately wants you to change your mind. You can’t help but find it odd, he wants you to love the babies that you grow inside of you.

“Let’s go.” You respond. Uraume gives you a subtle nod before they turn around and leave the room. You follow behind, mentally preparing yourself to not fall for Sukuna’s dumb trick. Perhaps you should’ve turned him down last night, you're not the strongest when it comes to children.

You get to see a side of the palace that you’ve never come across. As you walk past everyone, you’re reminded that you hold some sort of power; a power that you forgot you held since Sukuna is constantly next to you. They bow down to you as you simply walk past them, as if you would actually do something to them.

Uraume leads you to the kitchen, where two women try to calm down the crying baby. Uraume is about to speak, but you shush them before they can say anything. You can read their next move, you don’t want the woman to stop simply to bow down to you.

“Let me hold him.” You tell the women, who have yet to realize who you are. They hand him over to you, desperate for a solution. The sound of a crying baby is absolutely not pleasant.

“Oh, look at you.” You gush at the boy who wails. He’s hungry with no way of feeding. “He’s too young for anything solid, huh?”

“Yes–” One of them speaks, until she realizes who you are. She bows down, and her colleague quickly follows suit. You nearly roll your eyes at the action, as if this wasn’t what you wanted when you asked Sukuna to marry you.

“Stand up.” You order, and they’re hesitant, but they do as you tell them. “What were you saying?”

The women look at each other, afraid of how to proceed. Regardless, they have to answer. “Yes, he’s too young for solids. We’ve never had a baby this young in our quarters, and we’re not sure how to proceed. We need a wet nurse but none of our servants are currently–”

“I’ll do it.” You cut her off as you stare down at the hungry baby. Oh, he looks so much like your Haru, you’d never forgive yourself if the baby died of hunger.

“My queen, that’s not appropriate. King Sukuna would be livid.” Uraume chimes in, though their words fall on deaf ears.

“Uraume, I’m going back to my room. I’ll tell Hina to give the baby back.” You tell them, bouncing the baby, hoping that the cries die down; you know it’s helpless, the baby won’t stop until he’s fed.

“My queen–” Uraume begins, but you begin to walk away. You’re smiling at the baby as he cries. Even when he’s crying, he looks so darn cute.

“Oh, how could someone abandon you? You’re so cute.” You tell him, as if you didn’t feel the same way about your babies– And you try not to think about it, but maybe Sukuna’s plan is working. There’s a twinge of guilt as you think about your refusal of loving your babies.

Maybe the stupid monster has a brain after all.

You lied, you were planning to hand back the baby boy as soon as you fed him, but he’s still in your arms. He looks at you with his beautiful brown wide eyes, and a smile on his face. You can’t let him go. You don’t doubt that he’ll be treated well, but he can have anything he needs right beside your side. Additionally, he makes great company.

“Oh, that stupid monster’s plan is working.” You mention as the baby yawns in your arms. You can’t fathom the thought of someone leaving this precious baby behind. Except, Sukuna��s sons will be nothing like this calm baby.

“Hina!” You call out, and the woman is in your room within seconds. She bows down her head, and waits for your order. You smile down at the baby in your arms as you tell her, “Get him a warm blanket.”

“King Sukuna–” She begins, but you cut her off before she can finish her sentence.

“Did I ask about Sukuna?” You question, and she shakes her head. “Then you’ll do as I say. Get him a blanket.”

“Of course.” She responds, nodding her head before walking away. It’s a risk she’s willing to take, even though there’s the possibility that Sukuna won’t be too happy. You were supposed to simply meet the baby, not get attached. There’s nothing she can do now, the matter is out of her hands.

“I hope his babies are as cute as you are.” You murmur as you bounce the baby in your arms. His little eyes are shutting on their own, and you stick out your bottom lip as your little pal begins to drift to sleep.

Hina comes back with a blanket, and you almost snatch it from her hands to cover him.

“When is the monster coming back?” You ask, knowing that Sukuna is going to force you to give him back. Sure, he suggested the idea but he won’t want you to keep the baby by your side. “Who’s going to feed him if Sukuna takes him from me?”

“I’ve ordered some servants to find a wet nurse, he’ll be fine.” Hina answers but you don’t like that answer. You’re not sure why though, it’s for his own good.

“Can I keep him with me forever?” You’re perhaps a little drastic. You’ve grown attached rather fast– Well, it’s not necessarily hard to grow attached when you’re lonely.

“My queen, you know that King Sukuna would never allow it.” Hina reminds you, and you can’t help but sigh. She’s not wrong. “Plus, you’re expecting two wonderful babies.”

“They’re not going to be like this…” You comment, and Hina can’t help but chuckle. Babies are babies, whether they’re Sukuna’s kids or not.

“My queen, you do realize that they’re going to be babies.” She responds as your eyes linger on the sleeping baby.

“They’ll pop out with four arms and a tummy mouth—“ You begin, wondering how his babies will end up looking. How much different will they look compared to the rest?

“My queen, you do realize that they’re half of you as well?” She reminds you, and you furrow your eyebrows. They’re also your babies… They will carry your blood whether you accept it or not. “They’re not just King Sukuna’s babies, but yours as well.”

“Of course.” You nod, staring down at the baby. She’s right, even if they come out with four arms and a tummy mouth, they’re still your own blood. Whether you love them or not, won’t change anything.

“He’s here.” Hina informs you as she hears the loud footsteps from far away. For some odd reason, you feel your breath get caught up in your chest, knowing that he’s approaching.

Hina bows down the moment the door to your room opens, only to not be acknowledged in any way by him. Sukuna’s eyes directly land on you, quickly going to the boy that you hold in your arms. He’s wrapped in a blanket that was made for your sons.

“Get out.” Sukuna says, and Hina stands up to do as he says. Though it’s not quick enough for him, because he proceeds to yell, “Get out!”

“Oh, you’ve woken him up.” You’re annoyed as you hear the crying baby. Just when he’s finally resting, he’s woken up by a screaming monster.

“Why were you feeding that baby?” Sukuna tries not to yell, knowing that he’ll just make matters worse by raising his voice. You’re shushing and bouncing the baby, trying to calm him down. Sukuna won’t be so accepting unless you tell him what he wants to hear.

You’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear.

“Your plan worked.” You tell him, standing up from your seat. The anger from Sukuna fades away, as curiosity overtakes him. “I’ll love your babies.”

His eyes widen, and he feels… Joyous? He’s happy. He likes the fact that his plan worked. Though he doubts that it’s going to be easy. You’re holding a baby in your arms, you must want something more.

“As long as you treat him like your own, I’ll love them.” You respond as you hand the baby to Sukuna. He glares down at the screaming child, wondering how the hell you’ve become so attached to this little human in a matter of hours.

“What?” Sukuna questions, refusing to hold the baby in his arms. You have to repeat yourself,

“Treat him as your own son, and I’ll be the mother you want me to be.”

#[bonds of fruition]#ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna

991 notes · View notes

arabellasleopardcoat · 4 months ago

Text

Winter (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Mature language. Grief. Toddlers. Unreliable narrators. Miscommunication.

A/N: I was so excited about this chapter! These scenes are the ones I wrote first. Also, the biggest hug to anyone who is reading this. I had not expected the amount of love my first chapter got, and I am so grateful!

THERE WAS AN old northern superstition —more like an old wives’ tale, really— that said if there was snow on the wedding day, the marriage was doomed to be a cold one.

It hadn’t been snowing the day Cregan had married you, but his marriage was proving to be icier than the lands beyond the wall. You weren’t interested in spending time with him at all, and you actively tried to avoid him. He had tried to convince you to share rooms, trying to foster some intimacy, to no avail.

Cregan had hoped that if not a loving wife, he would get a caring mother to Rickon. The boy was too small to grow without one, not yet having reached his third nameday. But you hadn’t shown interest in that either. Instead, you pretended the two of them didn’t exist.

He would like to say that the days went on the same way they did before he wed you, but it would be a lie. Winterfell ran much better now there was a lady present. Cregan had been wrong about you. It seemed like you could run a keep, and you did so with ruthless efficiency.

The castle had never been warmer, the meals so well planned. Even the servants seemed happy, now that they didn’t have to follow Cregan’s too broad instructions. It seemed that asking them to clean and cook was a little too vague for their tastes.

As for you, grief still followed you around, like a too long shadow that refused to budge even in the face of Winterfell’s brightest light. Sara had befriended you, with little success. While you had been far more welcoming to her, you still looked constantly tired and sad.

The lack of sunlight had made you lose your southron tan, leaving you with a look of quiet frailty that made Cregan want to wrap you in a thousand blankets and keep you safe. He just was unsure of the execution.

You scared him. He was man enough to admit it. People were often afraid of things they didn’t understand, and Cregan was no exception. You were made of absolute ice. There was no better description. Cold, but as fragile as glass.

He was running out of ideas on how to bond with you. Invitations to tea were denied, nor did you want to ride with him to see his tenants. You seemed at ease enough around Sara, and some other northern ladies, so social interaction wasn’t what you disliked. It was him.

Never had Winterfell’s corridors been filled with so many women. The northern lords already called you Queen Alysanne’s second coming, with your all female court. The only thing missing was your husband. You didn’t have Cregan’s ear, simply because you didn’t wish to. He would support your endeavors if you asked him to. He had offered his help with your attempts to establish a charity, since the North didn’t have Septas to take care of it, but you had proudly rebuffed him.

There was no pleasing you. He was at his wits’ end. Hence, the awful choice he had made that day.

To try to force you to be in his company.

“Why are you ordering my servants around?” You complain, barging into his chambers. While usually the kitchens were the domain of the Lady of the household, Cregan didn’t know you took it so seriously. “Do you not think me capable enough?”

“I do!” Cregan sits up in his bed, bewildered. He had given the orders around lunchtime, hoping you would not find out, yet here you were, less than half a day later. Far more soon than he had expected. “I just want to throw a feast to honor you.”

“You intend to honor me by giving me more work?” You place your hands on your hips, highlighting your figure, and Cregan is but a man. He cannot help himself, his eyes lingering for a second too long, and his brain coming with no response to your statement.

You seem to take his silence for affirmation.

“Seriously? Do you at least have a guest list?”

And your tone is so haughty, your words betraying you believe Cregan to be an absolute imbecile, he cannot help but give a heated retort.

“Of course I have. Truly, I am more than capable of organizing it on my own. Arra let me do it a few times, and I was unmarried for quite a while. I am experienced enough to…”

It is the wrong thing to say. You bare your fangs then, and Cregan has a moment of absolute and utter clarity. You are not a seahorse. Such a puny creature could never hope to deliver the utter destruction that you cause with your next words.

“Yes, and your precious Arra is dead! She is gone! Why can’t you understand it?” You turn on your heel, face absolutely thunderous, and go to rush out of his chambers.

Cregan loses his head fully, then. He grabs you by the arm, hard enough to hurt, and forces you to face him. For a frightening moment, he fears himself. Fears the wolf, the one screaming for him to strike you and remind you of your place.

How dare you come in his chambers, uninvited, after rejecting all his offers of companionship, to lecture him on grief? As if he could forget Arra was dead. It wasn’t so long ago that Rickon cried for his mother still, unable to understand why he didn’t have one. It wasn’t so long ago that Sara had to take over the role of Lady of the House, and suffered mockery from it. And it wasn’t so long ago, Cregan woke with a scream choked in his throat, reliving that awful morning in every dream he had.

He still did, sometimes. Less, now that he had more urgent matters to occupy himself with. Cregan was ashamed to admit it, but before Jacaerys and your arrival here, Winterfell had been far too empty to keep the ghosts away.

Now, with the war, and the flurry of activities that seemed to follow you, Cregan had little time to dwell much in his dark thoughts. Throwing himself into his work had allowed him to begin healing a wound he wasn’t even aware existed.

And wasn’t that a terrible thought? That Cregan was a man who thrived on war and hunger? Winter was coming, after all. It wouldn’t catch him unprepared.

He had sworn a vow to protect you. As long as Jacaerys had no children, you were third in line to the Iron Throne. To think of hurting you was not only to think of staining his honor, but to think of treason.

Cregan holds you there for a second longer, curious about your reaction. His grip must be bruising on your arm, he can feel the delicate bones under your flesh shift with how hard he is holding you. Yet, you show no fear. Your hands are balled into fists.

Were he to strike, you would strike back. Your face is the very picture of anger, your body coiled and ready to tear him apart.

He throws the feast. You sit next to him in icy silence and somehow manage to speak and dance with all the guests but him.

Cregan does no longer dream of trying to hunt a seahorse. Instead, he sees the world at a much lower angle than usual, and runs for his life. Somehow, in the dream, he knows a dragon is hunting him.

OF COURSE IT is today. The only day you actually wish your Lord Husband to be in the castle, and he is not.

You had spent many of your days fervently praying for him to leave on an errand, and yet, the day he does, you cannot even enjoy it.

Because the boy has gotten sick. And look, you have visited the nursery before, it is a part of your duties. You also cannot deny that you had been curious about the tiny version of your husband that will inherit everything.

The boy is cute, you suppose. In the manner all babes are. He is well-behaved, and quiet, and takes well to his teachings, even if they involve only naming things aloud.

Had you not hardened your heart to it already, you would want one of your own. You know, though, that their only inheritance will be tears and petty squabbles over land, so it’s best they are not born at all. It had been so between your husband’s father and uncle, and it was being so between your mother and your uncle Aegon.

The only assurance a woman has in a life spent as little more than property is her children. They are to inherit their father’s lands, and that is supposed to be enough. But for the second sons, said promise is always broken.

You had never, not once, thought you would come to understand Alicent, yet here you were.

You reflect on this as you hurry to the nursery, worried the damn boy will die before you reach it. When you get there, you feel the urge to scream. There is not one, but three serving girls hovering by the door, and the Maester is mixing some herbs in a chalice.

The child sleeps peacefully, unaware the surrounding turmoil. He looks impossibly small in his bed of furs, shirt open and chest covered in strange poultices. The boy… No, Rickon, had taken ill after the first snow. Perhaps he had been spending too much time playing outside, or he lingered too much in his wet clothes. You wouldn't know. You tried to avoid him as much as you could.

After this was over, you would have a stern talk with his maids. They shouldn’t be this careless. This was your husband’s heir. Someone had to care about him.

Not you. Never you.

“Will he be alright?” You ask, as the Maester places a wet cloth on his forehead. You have never liked children, never having had the chance to be one yourself. Your mother’s constant quest for the Iron Throne and her love for Daemon had often left you in the hands of the help. And when you were old enough, you had to take the role of the mature sibling alongside Jacaerys, helping raise your brothers.

Jacaerys. You hoped that wherever he was, he was suffering. You despised this place, and he had dared plot with your mother behind your back to get you here. With your beast of a husband, and this child of a previous marriage, whose existence would forever ensure your future children would inherit nothing.

You weren’t going to have children. Despite loving children, you despise your husband too much to ever lay with him. But most of all, you are beginning to fear you will become a damn Hightower. You feared that if you had children and faced the prospect of them only being second sons, you might be tempted to start a war too.

“He will, Princess.” The Maester, unaware of your inner turmoil, places a reassuring hand on your arm. He surely believes in the gentle hearts of women, or some nonsense like that. “The fever will lower with the tea we gave him, and the cool cloth on his forehead. His lungs are strong. He will breathe normally soon.”

The boy’s chest flutters oddly. His ribs show with each inhale, depicting his trouble breathing. You cast a dubious look at the cool cloth. If this was all they could do, it was no wonder your grandfather had been rotting alive.

“Is that all you have to say? Why do his ribs show?” You do your best to channel your mother, tone imperious. “If this is truly…” Before you can insult him by calling him the worst the Citadel has to offer, a boy comes in. You let out a sigh of relief, your desire to berate the Maester subsiding. It’s the same boy you had sent to Castle Cerwyn to retrieve your husband.

“Princess!” He says, extending a hand to you. Much to your astonishment, he hands back the message you had sent to Lord Cregan. “I have grievous news. The road to Castle Cerwyn is fully blocked. I couldn’t get past the river. I cannot go over it either and avoid the forest, for it is not fully frozen.”

“This cannot be!” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. Cursed your husband, and his plans to visit the Cerwyns’ tenants today, of all days. “You have to get Lord Cregan. Send a more experienced rider.”

“My lady, I would advise not to.” The Maester says, meekly. “Even if the rider does manage to get past, it is very likely Lord Stark is in the village, snowed in.”

“Well, then send a damn search party!” You yell, uncaring your language is unbecoming of a Princess. You cannot be here while the child… While Rickon dies. The child has a parent, and it is your husband, you do not even care for him!

“It is not as simple.” The Maester cringes when you turn on him.

“Of course it isn’t. The only simple thing is the cure for the child’s malady, isn’t it?” You growl. “Do something useful, if you think a rider cannot reach my husband. Get me someone who can, and fix the boy.”

It would be easier for you if the boy died. You could have the children you so craved. The obstacle would have removed itself. Relationships between half brothers are never as strong as between full ones. At the very least, this child could cast out you and any children you birth when Lord Cregan passes. At the very worst, he might have them killed, as your mother intended with her usurper brother.

But you are not so craven as to let an innocent die. He is still a boy, no older than three namedays. He is vulnerable, and his father is not here.

You sit next to the bed, eyes fixed on his chest. Rickon will not die on your watch.

THE SOUND OF a door opening jerks you awake. Disoriented, you sit up on your chair, and check that Rickon still breathes.

He does. He has awakened with the sound of the door opening, just as you did. But unlike you, he has begun wailing. You get him. You would like to cry too.

“What is it?” You snarl at the serving girl who dared enter in such a manner. The sound of Rickon’s cries grate in your ears, shrill and loud, awakening you fully. You try to coax him into laying back down to no avail.

“Milady…” She stammers, holding a breakfast tray. The reason for her interruption becomes clear. Had it been so long already? You remembered standing vigil over Rickon until sundown, and changing the cool compress a few times after, but no further. By the Seven, you were a terrible caretaker. “I… There are…”

Rickon wails harder.

“Father! Father, want father!” He cries. He then attempts to remove the cool cloth from his forehead, and get up, escaping the furs laid over him.

The serving girl stares at the boy. You stare at her. Rickon continues to squirm. When it is clear she is expecting you to soothe him, you sigh and turn to the child.

“Rickon, you have to lay down again.”

“Father! Father!” He wails, face beginning to turn red, his breathing labored. You are unsure if it is his distress or the sickness, but it worries you nonetheless. The child cannot die. You are not prepared to deal with it.

“Shh, Rickon, I know you are hurting.” You tell him, as you pick him up. “Father is not here. He is trapped by the snow.”

At this, he cries harder. You can hear him gasping for air as he squirms in your arms and kicks at you. His snot is getting everywhere. Good Gods, what if he dies? Would your husband actually force you consummate the marriage if he loses his heir? The thought alone is enough to force you into action.

“He is not trapped. He is snowed in, just as when you cannot go out and play. Happens all the time.” You reassure him, rubbing his back. You know your words to be a lie, but the boy doesn’t. The weather has been especially rough this season. The snow storm is unusual in its fierceness. “He will be back soon.”

Rickon perks up at that.

“He will?”

“As soon as he can.” You promise, hoping it is the case. In truth, you do not know. Your husband is unaware Rickon is ill, and holds no fondness for you. You doubt he will be rushing once the road clears. In fact, you think he might be celebrating the weather and praising his northern gods for the excuse to get a respite from you.

Well, too bad. You would send men each hour to check if the storm waned and the road was accessible once more. He would have to come and tend to his child.

“Where is father?” Rickon asks you, a suspicious look in his little face. He is eerily similar to your husband. His sobs have turned more subdued.

“With Lord Cerwyn.”

“Why? Hurts! Father!” The boy demands, petulantly. He is clearly feeling better if his lungs allow him to shriek like that. You are no healer, but his agitation is worrying you. What if he has a fit because he overexerted himself and then dies?

“I want your father too.” You mutter under your breath. “You do not see me wailing.”

“I love father.” He sobs. “Want him.”

And you are not made of stone. You have never been, no matter how hard you pretend. He is still a babe, hands chubby, face round. He still smells like one, a mix of the nursery, and sweet innocence.

Without even realizing it, you have cradled him into your arms and begun rocking the two of you. He keeps wailing, so you begin singing.

“I loved a maid…” There is no need to be a good singer to soothe babies. You are unsure of what they like about it, but you know it works. It had worked for Aegon and Viserys, why not for Rickon? “As fair as summer, who had sunlight in her hair….”

You begin to rock him as you pace through the room. As his tears begin to subside, and he begins to grow curious about the soft song, you realize he is not the threat to your future children you had envisioned. Rickon is beautiful in the manner all babes are, soft and sweet. His little fists cling to your wool cloak, gray eyes meeting yours with fascination.

Charmed by him, you keep singing. Seasons of my love is enlarged and repeated ten times over, and now includes verses about northern babies who look exactly like their father.

“I loved a boy…” You hum, softly. It feels like hours have passed when Rickon’s eyes finally begin to drop. Of course he would enjoy the verses about winter the most. “As white as winter, with moonglow in his hair.”

The door opens, slowly. You hear the wood groan as it does, but Rickon takes no notice. He burrows his head next to your heart, yawning.

You turn to look at the newcomer, pleased that having put the fear of the gods into the maid who had dared enter before had proven fruitful. The pleased smile drops from your face when you realize it is your husband.

Lord Stark is drenched to the bone. His hair is stuck to his head and shoulders, dripping water onto his furs. The cloak he had worn is wet, and he is quick to remove it, leaving him in simple breeches and a jerkin. His face is the picture of worry.

“I rode as hard as I dared.” His voice is low, pleasantly so. You had never considered the northern accent he sported attractive, but when his voice is gruff, and pitched low, you might see the appeal. “How is he?”

He shouldn’t have bothered with the low tone. Rickon would recognize his voice everywhere because he perks up considerably.

“Father! Father!” Rickon claps. He attempts turning in your grip to look at your husband, which makes you fear he might fall, so you perch him on your hip so he can do so.

“The fever has broken.” You hand Rickon back to him, feeling a hint of embarrassment when his eyes linger on the way you had been holding him. “He’ll live.”

“Thank you.” And his voice is earnest and soft, and it makes you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Is it her still? Does Arra Norrey stand in this room with you, too?

The embarrassment from earlier, and the anger at the thought of your husband being soft because you remind him of her make you snap at him.

“It’s fine. I missed my siblings.” You cross your arms over your chest, awkward. Why does he keep staring at you? Is he… Oh, by the Seven, he is smiling at you? So softly? You cannot stand it. “I will send for a bath for you and Rickon, after washing myself. Less I catch a cold too.”

Look, princesses do not flee. They simply walk hurriedly. Very hurriedly.

838 notes · View notes

jo-com · 1 year ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆➛ Baby Fever

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux

Summary: The three of you raised a child together, and for two years you guys kept it a secret, but after thinking it through, you guys decided that it was finally time to show your daughter to the world.

Genre: Fluff, throuple, pregnancy, overall adorable

words: 890

TW: just some sweet rotting fluff, some grammatical error, not proofread, google translated french cause i can't speak french, sorry if i wrote it wrong.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ─ ───────

After finding out that the three of you were pregnant, both Charles and Alex were over the moon—excited to meet their unborn baby. The baby hasn't even come out yet, but she/he has already been loved by all three of the parents.

Time had gone by easily; the once small bump in your tummy was now growing like crazy, it was like the size of a watermelon. Your back hurts like hell whenever you stand up but lucky for you, you had the most thoughtful girlfriend ever; always helping you up when you need to. Of course charles was also helpful but he was away most of the time leaving you and alex at home-- you didn't mind though, it was his passion and he loves it plus that's what keeps food at the table so yeah.

And just like that, nine months have passed; it felt like you were just pregnant yesterday and are now ready to give birth to the growing baby in your belly.

For nine whole months, both of them were supportive and caring throughout the whole pregnancy, always being there and staying by your side whenever you needed them.

...

"Are you sure you're ready, mon amour?" Charles asked, softly caressing the roof of your daughters hair.

"I am 100% sure, cha. I am ready to show Béatrice to the world, I think we kept her a secret for a long time now."

"We agree with you, mon cœur, but we just want you to be certain. We can still hide her from the rest and live this perfect little life of ours, just the four of us," Alex said with a worried tone.

She grabbed your hand and intertwined it with hers, slowly brining it up her lips and softly kissing the top of your hand. "Nous nous inquiétons juste (we just worry).

You softened at her touch and smiled. "I know you guys are worried, but I just want to show the world the love of my life and that I am living my best life with the two most important people in the world."

Charles and Alex looked at you with awe. They too want to show others the perfect life you guys have; they just worry that some people won't agree with what the three of you have. But they love that you're always optimistic about things, seeing the bright side of even the worst situations.

...

The very next day, you guys decided to watch one of Charles's races, of course, bringing Béatrice along with you.

Charles was already in the paddock, doing practice laps, leaving you, Alex, and your daughter to get ready.

"Are you ready to go, ma belle?" Alex asked, peeking her head in the door frame.

"One sec, love, I am just tying her shoelaces," you replied, tying the knots of her shoes and styling them up like a little bow.

"And....done!" Alex smiled at your adorableness and walked towards to where you and béatrice sat.

Alex was now standing beside you, helping you to carefully stand up. "You look so gorgeous, mon amour," she said, resting her hands on both your waists and slowly leaning closer to give you a kiss.

You leaned in to the kiss, your hands travelling to rest on her shoulder.

"Maman, ouf (ew)," béatrice said, making you guys break the kiss and look at your daughter. Her tiny nose scrunched up to a frown. She was trying to look disgusted, but with her chubby cheeks, it was hard to tell; she looked like a bunny trying to twitch her nose. Alex only giggled and playfully rolled her eyes. "Tu es juste jaloux (you're just jealous)." "No!" your daughter argued, standing up and lightly smacking Alex's leg. Alex then picked her up and tickling her side making béatrice giggle out loud.

Y/n smiled contentedly, her heart feeling so full of love--there's nothing more heartwarming than the sight in front of her.

"Ok break it up you two, we have to go now"

Alex smiled and put their daughter down. "Yes, ma'am!."

...

The three of you walked hand in hand in the paddock, earning a few quite shocked faces and jaws dropping from the sudden pressence of your guys's daughter.

Charles spotted you guys and excused himself from the interviewer. He then quickly made his way to you guys.

"Ma vie, you made it" He said cheerfully; he smiled from ear to ear and just couldn't keep it on how happy he was that you guys were there.

"We didn't want to miss it, béatrice Je voulais soutenir son père (wanted to support her daddy)" you said, caressing his broad shoulder.

Charles couldn't contain his excitement and kissed the two of you on the cheek.

...

Throughout the day, you guys were bombarded with questions to which you politely replied.

All the cameras were pointed directly at your daughter; there were people who were supportive, and there were just some who weren't, and it was alright with you guys. The only thing that mattered was that your baby was the life of the paddock; everyone turned their heads whenever she passed by, earning a few aws and coos from around the pit.

"I am glad we did this," you said, intertwining Alex's hands with yours.

"Me too," she answered, resting her head on your shoulders.

...

Charles_Leclerc just posted!

Liked by y/nursername, AlexandraSaintMleux and 2,539,236 others.

Mon monde💗💋

Comments on this post have been turned off

…

Short fluff, idk hope this is good also😭😭, thanks for the love that you guys showed on my last post!! Really boosted my confidence in writing!!💋💋

1K notes · View notes

purplereina11 · 2 months ago

Text

The Perfect Shot Series You experience a few firsts with Alexia

Word count: 8.8K

Warnings: Sex, there is a warning in this so you can know when to stop reading if you're not wanting to read it

You and Alexia had been dating for a number of weeks now, your mind cast back to your honesty on the beach nearly three weeks ago now and Alexia had changed one ounce with you, she was still the same kind caring thoughtful person you’d come to be very comfortable around. Tonight she’d invited you to one of Barcelona’s away games on the rare time Badalona weren’t playing, you flew in a mere hour from there away win, your team mates interests were all were peaked that you were catching a plane to Madrid instead of travelling back with them.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the sprawling football stadium. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the anticipation of the team and fans, a sea of faces buzzing with excitement. You adjusted the strap from your bag, feeling the weight of it against your chest, but today it felt lighter, almost buoyant as you set your bag down at your feet. This evening Real Madrid were taking on Barcelona at home, which was not the advantage it sounded like and should be since they were against such a strong team. One you’d learned they’d never beat in there history.

Today would be the first time you watched Alexia play in person, you’d obviously seen her play on TV before. Your eyes went down the team sheet posted on Instagram, seeing Alexia’s name sat proudly as Captain. Your thoughts danced back to the dates with Alexia, the spark of her laughter still echoing in your mind , your heart raced at the thought of seeing her in this way, she’d always been Alexia with you, but this evening she’d be the great award warning best in the world Alexia Putellas. You could still feel the warmth of her kiss lingering on your lips, a very sweet reminder of the moments.

Your head rose as you chewed your gum looking around you, as the teams took to the pitch, your eyes swept the field, searching for her. There she was, a striking figure in her team’s colours, hair pulled back tightly, determination etched across her face. The sight sent a jolt through you, a mix of admiration and something deeper. You recalled the way she had smiled at one of her teammates, that quick flash of vulnerability beneath her confident exterior.

You tried to follow the action but your gaze kept straying back to Alexia, her every movement commanding attention, your gaze lowered to your phone a text message from Carla

Am I loosing it, or are you here?

Before you could reply, a sudden cheer from the crowd erupted, pulling your attention back to the game. The opposing team surged forward, and you instinctively raised your phone, capturing the moment. Click. A brilliant shot of Alexia intercepting the ball, her fierce concentration shining through. You couldn’t help but smile.

I’m here

You finally replied, you sat up in your seat looking for Carla who was already looking right at you, you shared a little wave and a text promise to see her at half time if only briefly.

But as the game unfolded, a tension thickened in the air. You could see it in Alexia’s posture, a flicker of frustration as the opposing team pushed harder, their tactics growing more aggressive. The referee’s whistle pierced the air, and Alexia turned, her expression fierce. She shouted, her voice cutting through the air, you could hear her from where you sat at the back over the crowd. The crowd echoed her sentiment, a wave of discontent rolling across the stands.

You lowered your eyes momentarily, heart racing at the sight of her passion. It was intoxicating, watching her fight for every inch on the field. You couldn’t help the joy and pride you felt when Barcelona scored from a corner, from your position it looked like Patri stole Alexia’s goal shot on the line, your head turned to the big screen for the replay as it was celebrated. Alexia’s shot was going wide so you forgave Patri began smiling and clapped along with the fans around you.

As the first half come to its end, she was walking across the field towards the locker room, she said something to Carla.

“Carla” She called, when they were walking in step she asked, “Do you know if Y/N is here?”

She nodded smiling, “Back left corner, near the man with the big flag”

You turned your head back from the highlights being shown to the field, she caught your gaze, and for a heartbeat, the chaos of the fans around you faded. She flashed you a sly smile, a flicker of recognition that sent warmth flooding through you before moving out of view. It was subtle but it was there. She knew you’d came after playfully telling her you wouldn’t make any promises when she asked if you’d come when she handed you a ticket for the game when you last saw her.

You smiled as your phone lit up Alexia must of barely sat down in the locker room when she text

Remind me to get you a Barca shirt

Can you put Batlle’s name on the back?

Behave

You bit your lip at the slight show of dominance from Alexia, you were becoming increasingly suggestive and flirtatious with each other, the sexual tension was building but neither of you had made the first move to invite the other into there home. Your dynamic was quite evenly balanced you were trying to explain that to Carla one evening over drinks when she finally asked about the pair of you and you felt you could share.

Yes La Reina

The second half was a little less stressful Barcelona dominated in ways they always did, you hadn’t sat down much like the fans around you, the chances were coming in waves after waves, you smiled clapping as Alexia scored 2 minutes into the stoppage time. You shook your head as she ran in your direction the unbridled joy on her face involuntarily causing your lips to smile also, she looked directly into your soul as she celebrated, she fired a kiss off waved and jogged away again.

It wasn’t long after the full time whistle went you found yourself collecting your bag you wrapped the Barca flag you were supporting more around yourself, the cold chill of the air settling around you. You were collected by Carla and taken into an area marked as authorised personal only, you were in full conversation with a smile on your face, “You have to get the tattoo Y/N ever since I’ve known you, you mention it at least once a week.

“You want a tattoo?” Your head rose as an arm came around your neck, Carla’s mouth dropped at the way you both looked at each other, both your eyes sparkling, you simply nodded, “I’ll go with you”

“You would?” You asked enjoying the feeling of being slotted under Alexia’s arm, she nodded, “Well.. ok”

“Book the appointment”

You had literally been back in Barcelona 4 hours when Alexia rang you that she was outside, she’d booked you an appointment to get your tattoo with the artist you’d been in contact with, it was a whirlwind 20 minutes until you found yourself outside the shop.

"Alexia, I must confess, my heart is racing at the thought of getting this tattoo," you say, your voice trembling slightly as you share your vulnerability. The anticipation looms large, and the reality of the moment begins to settle in. Her gaze softens, and she responds with a warm smile that radiates understanding

"Don't worry, I've got you," Alexia reassures you, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "Remember, I'll be right here the whole time."

You nod, grateful for her presence. As you both enter the tattoo parlour, the buzz of needles and faint rock music fills the air. The scent of antiseptic mingles with incense, creating an oddly comforting atmosphere.

"First timer?" the artist asks, noticing your nervous energy.

"Is it that obvious?" you chuckle, trying to mask your anxiety.

Alexia pipes up, “She’s braver than she looks. I've seen her eat pineapple on pizza."

You playfully roll your eyes at her joke, already feeling more at ease. As you settle into the chair, Alexia takes your hand, her thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. You’d noticed over the last few meetings Alexia had got more comfortable in placing a hand in yours or on your lower back. She’d even tapped your arse on one occasion as she instructed you to walk through a door first, you both new you were bound to cross that line of intimacy sooner rather than later one of you just needed to invite the other over. One of you just needed to make that first move.

"So, have you decided on the final design?" Alexia asks, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You pull out your phone, fingers fumbling slightly as you scroll through your gallery. "I think so. What do you think of this one?" you ask, showing her the song lyrics you've been obsessing over for months, that really resonated with you.

Alexia's eyes widen, a look of genuine admiration spreading across her face. "It's completely you," she breathes, leaning in closer to examine the font for the quote you showed her. "Is that someone’s handwriting?"

You shook your head swallowing, “No just like cursive”

“Long story short I survived” Alexia smiled knowing the song because her sister was obsessed with it at one point, “It’s perfect, you should go for it”

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and you feel a surge of excitement replacing your nervousness. The tattoo artist nods approvingly as you show him the design.

"Nice choice," he says, preparing his equipment. "Where are we putting this?"

You hesitate for a moment, then pull up your shirt slightly to reveal your ribcage. "Right here," you say, your fingertips grazing the spot adjacent to your breast.

Alexia's eyes follow your movement, and you notice a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. She clears her throat and says, "That's, um, that's a great spot. I’ll be." she pointed aimlessly behind her to the wall of tattoo options clearly a little flustered you looked at yourself in the mirror and noticed it was obvious you were without a bra and she got a little flash of the side of your breast.

As the tattoo artist begins to stencil the design onto your skin, you can't help but notice Alexia's lingering gaze. She's trying to be subtle, but her eyes keep darting back to the exposed skin of your ribcage. Or the area painfully close. You feel a little thrill at her obvious interest.

"So, um, how long have you wanted this tattoo?" Alexia asks, clearly trying to distract herself her eyes not coming off the wall.

You smile, enjoying her flustered state. "Oh, for a while now. But I never had the courage until now."

"Why now?" she asks, her eyes meeting yours.

You hold her gaze, feeling suddenly bold. "I guess I just needed the right person to give me that final push."

Alexia's breath catches, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. The tattoo artist clears his throat, breaking the spell.

"Alright, so i’m going to step out whilst you get yourself ready, I’m going to need you remove your shirt and sit with your chest pressed against the back of this chair, is that ok?” He asked, with a smile you nodded as he left, even he eyed Alexia her face practically pressed up against the wall on his way past. You bit your lip at the thrill of excitement when you removed your shirt and you were bare Alexia a matter of steps away, you did as you were told, “All ready?”

“Yeah”

He came back in with a gentle smile, in the mirror in front of you, you see Alexia turn to look over her shoulder and her throat bounced. “I drew that flower we spoke about”

You looked to the artist, “Can I see?” You bit your lip when he grabbed the stencil and got a little smile, it was just what you wanted before you landed on the quote.

“Why don’t you see how you find getting this one then we’ll see about the other?” you nodded

You can't help but smirk at Alexia's flustered reaction as she moved nearer changing the wall she was staring at. As the tattoo artist begins to prep the gun, you decide to have a little fun with the situation.

"Hey Alexia," you call out, your voice playful, "Why don't you come hold my hand? I might need some moral support." Your arms resting over the back of the chair you turned one hand over in a visual request.

She turns back to you, her cheeks still tinged pink. "Oh, um, sure," she stammers, making her way back to your side, her eyes darting, but you caught the glance to your chest.

As she takes your hand, you feel a spark of electricity between you. The tattoo artist begins his work, and you wince slightly at the first prick of the needle.

"You okay?" Alexia asks, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, just... distract me?" you request, squeezing her hand.

Alexia nods, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, tell me about this flower tattoo you're considering. Is it going somewhere... interesting?" she asks, her gaze briefly flickering down to your exposed skin.

You can't help but grin at her playful tone. "Wouldn't you like to know?" you tease back, enjoying this flirtatious banter. The sting of the needle becomes a distant sensation as you focus on Alexia's face.

"Maybe I would," she replies, her voice low and husky. Her thumb traces lazy circles on your palm, sending shivers up your arm.

The tattoo artist clears his throat, reminding you both of his presence. "So, uh, how do you two know each other?" he asks, clearly picking up on the tension between you.

You and Alexia exchange a look, both suppressing smiles.

"Oh, we're... friends," you say, your tone playful.

"Mmhmm, friends," Alexia echoes, giving your hand a little squeeze. "Who happens to spend an awful lot of time together."

The tattoo artist chuckles. "Right, 'friends.' Got it."

As he continues working on your tattoo, you find yourself getting lost in conversation with Alexia. She tells you funny stories about her day at work, describes a new recipe she wants to try, and asks your opinion on a book she's reading. Before you know it, the sting of the needle has faded into the background and you were done

"Alright, we're all done" the artist announces. "Want to take a look?"

You nod eagerly, you took your hand back from Alexia and without a care your arm came over your chest as you stood you more than certain Alexia got an unintentional eye full by the intense shade of red she went. You got a smile on your face as you admired it in the mirror, “Oh I love it, thank you so much, it’s just what I wanted.”

The artist smiled widely, the best part of his job was seeing his customers happy faces at the end, “So..We doing the flower?” he asked with a wide smile

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at Alexia. Her eyes are wide with anticipation, a mix of curiosity and something else you can't quite place flickering across her face. You feel a surge of boldness, fuelled by the adrenaline of your first tattoo and the electric tension between you two.

"You know what? Let's do it," you declare, surprising even yourself, feeling emboldened by the rush of endorphins from your first tattoo.

The artist grins, clearly excited by your enthusiasm. "Alright! Where are we putting this one?"

You bite your lip, considering. Your eyes lock with Alexia's as you make your decision, and suddenly you’re feeling daring. "How about... here?" you suggest, trailing your fingers along the crease where the top of your leg met your most intimate area

Alexia's breath hitches audibly, and you can't help but smirk at her reaction.You notice her pupils dilate slightly. The artist, oblivious to the charged atmosphere, nods approvingly.

"Great choice," the artist says, preparing his equipment once again. "This one might be a bit more sensitive, just to warn you."

You nod, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. As you collect your discarded top, you can't help but notice Alexia fidgeting, her eyes darting between you and the floor.

"It'll look great there. I'll need you to lower your jeans a bit to access the area."

You hook your thumbs into your waistband, hesitating for just a moment before slowly sliding your jeans down a few inches. The movement exposes a tantalising peak of your underwear. You catch Alexia's gaze following the motion, her eyes widening slightly.

"Is this okay?" you ask innocently, looking directly at Alexia rather than the artist.

She swallows hard, her voice a bit hoarse as she replies, "Y-yeah, that's... that's perfect."

The artist begins preparing the area, and you lie back on the chair, hyper-aware of Alexia's presence beside you. Her eyes keep darting between your face and the exposed black panties you were sporting her fingers fidgeting nervously. You can practically feel the tension radiating off her. With her cheeks flushed, you decide to push things a little further.

"So, Alexia," you say casually as the artist begins to work on the placement of the stencil, “What do you think about flower tattoos?"

She startles slightly at being addressed, her cheeks flushing. "Oh, um, I think they're beautiful. Especially in... certain places."

You raise an eyebrow, enjoying her flustered state. "Oh? And what places might those be?"

The artist chuckles quietly, clearly amused by your banter. Alexia opens her mouth to respond, then closes it again, seemingly at a loss for words.

"You know," you continue, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot, "I might need you to hold my hand again. This one's a bit more... sensitive."

Alexia nods eagerly, wordlessly taking your hand in hers. Her palm is slightly sweaty, betraying her nervousness. As the artist begins, you let out a small gasp at the sensation.

"You okay?" Alexia asks, her voice filled with concern.

"Yeah," you breathe, squeezing her hand. "It's just... intense."

The artist works diligently, and you try to focus on Alexia's face to distract yourself from the discomfort. Her eyes meet yours, and suddenly the air feels thick with unspoken tension.

"So," you say, your voice low, "what do you think of my choice of placement?”

Alexia's eyes flicker down to where the artist is working, then quickly back up to your face. She licks her lips nervously before responding.

"I think it's...," she says, her voice husky. “Incredibly sexy."

Your breath catches at her words, the intensity of her gaze making your skin tingle. The artist continues his work, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you two at the top of the bed.

"Yeah?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad you approve."

Alexia's thumb traces slow circles on your palm, sending goosebumps up your arm. You can't help but imagine those fingers exploring other parts of your body.

"You know," you continue, wincing slightly as the needle hits a particularly sensitive spot, "I might need some extra distraction for this one. Any ideas?"

Alexia's eyes darken with desire. She leans in closer, her lips just inches from your ear. "I might have a few ideas," she whispers, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn your head slightly, your noses almost touching. "Care to share?" you murmur, your heart racing.

Alexia's gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes. The tension between you is palpable, electric. She opens her mouth to respond when suddenly, the tattoo artist speaks, reminding you both of his presence. "Almost done here," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Alexia pulls back slightly, but her eyes remain locked on yours. "Maybe I'll show you later," she says, her voice low and full of promise.

You feel a rush of anticipation at her words. The sting of the needle barely registers as you lose yourself in Alexia's gaze.

"All done," the artist announces, breaking the spell. "Want to take a look?"

As the artist steps back, a sense of exhilaration washes over you. You sit up slowly, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. With a gentle nod, you climb off the bed heading to the mirror, your breath catching in your throat as you take in the sight of your new tattoo.

“Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful!” you exclaim, your eyes widening with joy. The intricate design of the flower, capturing the essence of what you wanted perfectly. You can’t help but smile, feeling a rush of pride and satisfaction at the stunning artwork now adorning your skin.

The artist beams, clearly pleased with his work. “I’m glad you like it! You were a fantastic canvas,” he says, cleaning up his station.

You look up at Alexia in the mirror, who’s watching you with a look of admiration and something deeper—something electric. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and you can see the warmth radiating from her before you felt it when she stood incredibly close behind you.

“See? I told you it would be worth it,” she says, her voice filled with genuine happiness for you, her breathe tickling your ear. You can’t help but notice how her gaze lingers on your tattoo, tracing the lines with her eyes as if trying to memorise every detail.

“Thank you for being here,” you say softly, your heart swelling with gratitude. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Alexia’s cheeks flush slightly, and she brushes a stray hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have missed it your first time. I’m proud of you.”

As the moments stretch, you feel a familiar flutter in your chest. It’s a mix of exhilaration from the tattoo and the undeniable connection that has been building between you two. You take a step closer back into to her, your arse pressing into her groin, feeling the heat radiate off your skin where the tattoo now rests.

“Maybe,” you suggest playfully, “you could kiss them better.. at some point”

Her eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and intrigue dancing across her features. “Oh?” she asks, her tone teasing yet curious.

Your heart races as the implications of your words settle in. The air between you thickens with unspoken possibilities, and for a fleeting moment, you wanted to just have her here.

Her gaze holds yours, the tension palpable as a charged silence envelops you. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, a spark that ignites a longing within you.

“Maybe we can make that happen sooner rather than later,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

The tattoo artist’s voice breaks through the moment as he gathers his supplies. “Just make sure to keep the area clean and moisturised for the next few weeks,” he instructs.

You nod, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you and Alexia. She clears her throat moving away as you raise your jeans back up around your waist. As you leave the studio, hand in hand, the world feels different now—full of potential and uncharted territories waiting to be explored.

With each step you take outside into the sunlight, the tattoo feels like a new chapter in your life, one that you’re eager to share with Alexia. The journey ahead seems thrilling, and you can’t help but feel that this is just the beginning of something beautiful—something that transcends friendship and flirts with the edges of intimacy.

As you walk side by side, laughter and playful banter fill the air, but beneath it all lies a current of unspoken desires, waiting for the perfect moment to emerge. And in that moment, you realise that this tattoo isn’t just about ink on skin; it’s a symbol of courage, connection, and the promise of more adventures to come.

++++

As you settled into the comfort of your home getting home from the Badalona home match, your eyes were glued to the screen, after turning it on to watch Barcelona, you tuned in on the hour mark shocked to see the score line. You began witnessing Barcelona’s unfortunate struggle against Levante. The match marked a disheartening milestone, as it was the team's first defeat in an astonishing 46 Liga games. Amidst the unfolding drama on the field, your thoughts were consumed with concern for Alexia, whose fate seemed intertwined with the outcome of the match.

In that moment, as the game unfolded, the tension in the air was palpable in your home so you couldn’t imagine what it was like for the players involved and in the stadium. The vibrant colours of Barcelona's jerseys, once a symbol of triumph, now seemed muted against the backdrop of their unexpected defeat. Each passing minute felt like an eternity as you watched the players battle for every inch, their determination evident, yet the elusive victory slipped further away when Levante scored a second in the 94th minute. The scoreline reflected not just a loss, but also the weight of expectations that come with being a top-tier team.

Your thoughts drifted to Alexia, whose presence brought you joy and inspiration, a player known for her tenacity and skill, an embodiment of the spirit that Barcelona fans cherish. The worry you felt for her stemmed for the emotional toll such a loss could take on her. You could see her on the field, giving it her all, and the thought of her disappointment mingled with your own.

As the final whistle blew, signalling the end of the game, a wave of melancholy washed over you. The cheers of the opposing fans echoed in stark contrast to your own feelings of dismay. In that moment of reflection, you realised that this defeat was not just about the game; it was a reminder of the highs and lows that come with sports and the deep connections you forge with players in them.

You tried to find a solace in the thought that even the greatest teams face adversity, and that this moment, though painful, would eventually lead to growth and resilience. As you pondered the implications of the game, your concern for Alexia transformed into a desire to support her, knowing that true strength is often revealed in the face of setbacks. But it was well told how when Alexia suffered a defeat she went into herself, so you found yourself in shock when little over an hour later, Alexia’s name was lightening up your phone.

“Hi” You spoke softly, she didn’t speak right away, but you wished she hadn’t when you heard the sadness in her voice

“Hola”

You didn’t know what to say, how could you even begin to comfort her after the evening she’d had. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions. You could almost feel Alexia's disappointment through the phone, her usually vibrant energy subdued."Alexia," You breathe, your heart aching at the pain in her voice. "I... I'm sorry about the match," I finally manage, wincing at how inadequate the words sound.

There's a long pause, and you could feel her struggling to find the words. Alexia sighs, a soft, broken sound that tugs at my heart. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't understand what happened out there. We were so close."

I close my eyes, wishing I could reach through the phone and hold her. "You played your heart out, Alexia. Everyone could see that."

"Did we?" There's a bitter edge to her words now. "Maybe we didn't fight hard enough. Maybe we got complacent. But it wasn't enough," she says, her voice cracking. "We let everyone down. I let everyone down."

"No," You said firmly, surprising yourself with the intensity in your tone. "You didn't let anyone down. This is just one game, one moment. It doesn't define you or the team."

You hear a soft sniffle and a shaky breath on the other end of the line, and my heart clenches."But it feels like it does," Alexia whispers. "We were undefeated for so long. And now..."

"And now you have a chance to show everyone how you bounce back," you say gently. "That's what makes a true champion, Alexia. Not never falling, but how you rise after you do."

“Everyone expected us to keep winning."

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "Expectations can be a heavy burden, Alexia. But remember, you're human. The team is human. Perfection isn't sustainable, and that's okay."

There's a long pause, and for a moment you worry you've said the wrong thing. But then you hear a soft chuckle, barely audible but unmistakably there.

"When did you get so wise?" Alexia asks, a hint of her usual playfulness creeping back into her voice.

You feel a smile tugging at my lips. "I learned from the best."

Another pause, but this one feels lighter somehow. "Can i come over?" Alexia says softly.

“Of course” you both ended the call and you were waiting with anticipation with the Alexia you would be met with, usually her smile was ever present. But as you opened the door, that smile wasn’t there.

You open the door, and your heart sinks as you take in Alexia's appearance. Her usual radiant smile is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a weariness that seems to weigh down her entire being. Her eyes, usually sparkling with life, are red-rimmed and puffy, evidence of the tears she's shed.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping aside to let her in. She moves past you, her shoulders slumped, and you can almost feel the heaviness of her disappointment in the air.

Alexia stands in the middle of your living room, looking lost and vulnerable. Without a word, you close the distance between you and wrap your arms around her. She stiffens for a moment, then melts into your embrace, burying her face in your shoulder.

You hold Alexia tightly, feeling her body slump slightly as she finally lets her guard down. Her breath comes in shaky gasps against your neck. You don't say anything, knowing that sometimes silence is the most comforting sound.

After a few minutes, Alexia pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. There's a raw vulnerability in her gaze that makes your heart ache. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "I didn't mean dump on you like this."

You shake your head, reaching up to gently wipe a thumb over her cheek. "Don't apologise. You're allowed to feel this, Alexia. It's okay to be upset."

She nods, taking a deep breath. "I just... I don’t normally reach out after bad games like this, i prefer to be alone but i knew you’d make me feel better”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at her words, touched by her trust in you. your heart swells with a mixture of pride and tenderness at your words "I'm glad you came," you say softly, leading her to the couch. "Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather just... be?"

Alexia sinks into the cushions, her eyes distant. "I don't know," she admits. "It's all just... jumbled up in my head."

Her body language still tense. You sit beside her, close enough to offer comfort but giving her space if she needs it. "That's okay. We can just sit here if you want."

She nods, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. You watch her, noticing the tension in her jaw, the slight tremor in her hands as she runs a hand through her hair, a gesture you've come to recognise as a sign of her frustration without thinking, you reach out and take her hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Alexia's eyes flutter open, and she looks at you with a mix of gratitude and something else you can't quite place. She squeezes your hand back, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she closes the distance and closes her lips around yours, “Thank you” she whispers, her voice barely audible, your eyes lingered in yours.

As Alexia's lips meet yours again, you feel a surge of warmth and tenderness. The kiss is soft, hesitant at first, as if she's seeking comfort and reassurance. You respond gently, letting her set the pace, your hand coming up to cup her cheek.

The kiss deepens, and you can taste the salt of her earlier tears. There's a desperation in the way she clings to you now, as if you're an anchor in the storm of her emotions. Your fingers thread through her hair, and you pull her closer, trying to convey without words that you're here for her, that she's safe.

When you finally break apart, both slightly breathless, Alexia rests her forehead against yours. Her eyes are closed, but her expression seems more peaceful now. "I needed that," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

You brush your thumb across her cheek, “You don’t have to stop there” you spoke your words laced with hints of what you wanted if she wanted to also.

Alexia's eyes lift, meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and growing desire. Her lips part slightly, and you feel her breath quicken. "Are you sure?" she asks softly, her voice husky.

In response, you move to straddle her lap leaning in and capture her lips again, this time with more intensity. Alexia responds immediately, her hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate as the emotional tension of the evening transforms into something else entirely.

You press yourself closer, your hands holding her face. This time, the kiss is different. There's a hunger behind it, a need that goes beyond comfort, “I want you.” Alexia gasps between kisses. She breaks the kiss, her lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck. You shiver at the sensation, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

“Take me” your hand rests on the back of her neck as her lips find your bare collarbone kissing over to the other on, your hips moving instinctively against her.

"Bedroom?" Alexia murmurs against your skin, her voice low and filled with want.

You nod, unable to form words as desire floods your senses. You stand up, pulling Alexia up with you. Your lips find hers again as you stumble towards the bedroom, hands roaming and clothes being shed along the way.

By the time you reach the bed, you're both down to your underwear, once inside, Alexia pulls you close again, her kisses more urgent now. Her hands roam your body, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Your fingers trace the lines of her toned abdomen, marvelling at the softness of her skin. Alexia shivers under your touch, her eyes dark with want. Alexia backs you towards the bed, she gently pushes you onto the mattress, her eyes dark with want as she takes in the sight of you. She crawls over you, her body pressing against yours in all the right places.

Alexia's eyes sparkle with desire in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the balcony doors. "Are you sure?" She whispers, her voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the city coming alive for the evening.

Your lips curve into a gentle smile. "I've never been more certain of anything," you murmur, her fingers now tracing the line of your thigh.

You reach up to cup her face, you pull it to you, capturing her lips with yours. The kiss starts slow, it’s tender at first, a delicate exploration, but quickly deepens as the passion between you re-ignites. Her hands tangle in your hair as she pulls you closer, the warmth of her body against yours making you dizzy with desire. Her weight on top of you feels right, like she belongs there.

You run your hands along her sides, feeling the soft curve of her waist, the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body. Alexia's lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your neck, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You gasp as she finds a particularly sensitive spot, your fingers digging into her back.

"You're beautiful," Alexia murmurs against your skin, her breath warm and tickling on your collarbone. Her words make your heart swell, and you pull her back up to kiss her deeply, pouring all your emotions into it.

Her hands explore your body, tracing every curve, every dip. Like she wants to memorise every inch of you. Alexia's fingers dance across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The world outside fades away until there's nothing but the two of you, lost in each other's embrace in your bedroom.

Your hands fumble with the clasp her bra, eager to see more of her. Alexia chuckles softly, her laugh like music to your ears. She sits up, between your legs, and slowly reaches back to unclasp the last piece of clothing she had on you bare for all to see, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. You watch, mesmerised, as she reveals more of herself to you.

Alexia's bra soon joins the clothes on the floor, and you marvel at her as your hands explore her body bumping over each of her breasts. Her lips trace a path down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arch into her touch, craving more.

“You’re so fucking sexy” she whispers again against your skin, her breath warm and enticing.

Your fingers tangle in her hair as she continues her journey downward, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts, paying special extended attention to each. A soft moan escapes your lips, and you feel her smile against your skin.

The world narrows even more to just the two of you, the sounds of Barcelona fading away. All that matters is Alexia's touch, her lips, her skin against yours. Time seems to slow as you lose yourself in the sensations she's creating.

Your hands roam her back, tracing the curve of her spine, pulling her closer. Your breath catches in your throat. The moonlight caresses her skin, painting her in silver and shadow. She shivers under your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“Touch me,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I need you”

Alexia leans down, capturing your lips once more. The kiss is deeper now, more urgent. Your hands roam her back, feeling the play of muscles rippling beneath her skin as she moves against you. The weight of her, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, it's intoxicating. Your head went back as all four of her fingers ran down your intimate area, you got a little smile as your mouth opened, she was just where you wanted her to be.

“Why have I never noticed how big your hands are before?” You mused as her movements were methodical and slow up and down, up and down she was giving you a little bit of a taste of what was to come she didn’t dip inside your folds tantalising caressing the outside.

You roll, gently flipping your positions. Now you're the one looking down at Alexia, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her eyes dark with desire at the sudden movement of you taking control.

You hover above Alexia, drinking in the sight of her. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, her skin flushed with desire glowing in the moonlight. You lean down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. She whimpers softly, her hands coming up to grip your waist.

"Please," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, trailing kisses down her neck, “You teased me” Savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands explore her body, memorising every inch. You want to know every inch of her, to worship her the way she deserves. “Shall I tease you?” Her quiet gasps and sighs of pleasure encourage you, spurring you on

Alexia arches into your touch as you lavish attention on her breasts. Her fingers tangle in yours when you held her hand. The sounds she makes, soft moans and gasps, are the most beautiful music you've ever heard as your free hand goes down tantalising down her body you bump over her pubic bone then pull it back up. “Mi amor, por favour”

Your lips continue their journey down Alexia's body, trailing kisses across her stomach. Her skin quivers beneath your touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of your caresses. You pause at her hip, looking up to meet her gaze. Her eyes are heavy-lidded with desire, her lips parted as she pants softly. You knew exactly what you were doing.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia nods, her fingers tightening around yours. “Si,” she breathes. “Por favor, don't stop."

Encouraged by her words, you continue your exploration, you let go of her hand as you settle between her legs. Your hands caress her thighs as you settle between them, placing soft kisses along the inside of her leg finding all her sensitive spots. Alexia's breath hitches as you near her centre, her hips lifting slightly off the bed in anticipation. Bucking slightly at the contact, a soft moan escaping her lips.

The first taste of her is intoxicating. You take your time, savouring every moment, every taste, every sound she makes. Your tongue traces patterns on her sensitive flesh, alternating between gentle licks and more focused attention. Alexia's fingers tighten in your hair, guiding you where she needs you most. Her soft moans grow louder, more insistent, as you bring her closer to the edge.

You look up, wanting to see her face as pleasure washes over her. Alexia's head is thrown back, her eyes closed, lips parted as she pants. She's never looked more beautiful than in this moment of abandon.

"Look at me," you whisper, your breath hot against her most sensitive areas.

Alexia's eyes open, meeting yours. The connection is electric, intimate in a way that takes your breath away. You hold her gaze as you redouble your efforts, watching as the pleasure builds within her.

Her hips begin to move in rhythm with your movements, her breathing growing more ragged.

"Oh god," she gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair, you enjoying the slight tugging, you slide your hands under her thighs, holding her close as you worship her with your lips and tongue.

You look up, watching her face as pleasure washes over her. Her head is thrown back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Her lips are parted, soft moans escaping with each breath. The sight of her lost in ecstasy is breathtaking.

You increase your efforts, your tongue moving faster, more insistently. Alexia's thighs begin to tremble, her back arching off the bed. You can feel her getting close, her body tensing beneath you. You slide one hand up her body to caress her breast, feeling her nipple harden under your palm, your hand found her neck gently forcing her to hold eye contact.

Her hips rocking against your mouth, you increase the pressure and speed of your tongue, wanting to bring her to the heights of pleasure. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, as she nears her climax

You lavish attention there, circling and flicking your tongue in a steady rhythm. You can feel her getting close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

Alexia's body tenses, you moves your hand from her neck, as her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over her. Her thighs clamp around your head as she cries out your name, her fingers tightening against your hand on her breast as she rides out her climax. You continue your gentle work, drawing out her orgasm for as long as possible.

As her tremors subside, you place soft kisses on her inner thighs, her hips, her stomach, slowly making your way back up her body. Alexia's eyes are closed, her chest heaving as she catches her breath, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin in the moonlight. When you reach her face, you pepper her cheeks with light kisses, tasting the salt of her sweat on her flushed skin.

Alexia's eyes flutter open, meeting yours, dark and hazy with lingering pleasure the look she gives you is filled with such tenderness and love that it makes your heart skip a beat. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across her lips as she pulls you down for a deep, languid kiss. You can feel the rapid beating of her heart against your chest as she holds you close.

“Your turn” she whispers

A shiver of anticipation runs through you at Alexia's words. Her hands are already moving, caressing your sides as she rolls you onto your back. She hovers above you, her hair falling around her face like a curtain, creating an intimate cocoon just for the two of you.

A mischievous glint in her eye. She leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

Her hands roam your body, tracing patterns on your skin that make you shiver with delight. She breaks the kiss, trailing her lips along your jawline and down your neck. You tilt your head, giving her better access, a soft moan escaping your lips as she uses her tongue.

"I want to make you feel as amazing as you made me feel," Alexia murmurs against your skin. Her words send a flush of warmth through your body, making your heart swell with excitement and anticipation.

Her touch is electric, igniting every nerve ending as she explores your body. She takes her time, savouring every inch of you, her fingers and lips leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into her touch, craving more, your body humming with desire.

Alexia's mouth finds your breast, her tongue swirling around your nipple as her hand caresses the other. You gasp, your fingers tangling in Alexia's silky hair, holding her close as waves of pleasure wash over you. The sensation is exquisite, pleasure radiating through your body her talented mouth and hands work in tandem, drawing soft gasps and moans from your lips. She alternates between gentle caresses and more insistent touches, building your arousal higher and higher.

Her free hand trails down your stomach, tracing circles on your skin. Your muscles quiver beneath her touch, anticipation building as her fingers move lower. When she finally reaches your centre, you gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily when she touched what she teased earlier.

Alexia looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “You like that?” she asks, her voice husky as her fingers move in magic circles holding the most intense eye contact.

"Yes," you breathe, barely able to form words. "Please, don't stop."

She smiles, a glint in her eye. She stops.

She got the most seductive smirk on her lips watching you a laboured breathing mess anticipation making it impossible for you to calm. She held your chin in her hand, “Please”

“Do you want it?” She asked, you bit your lip nodding, using her thumb to pull it from your teeth before nibbling it herself gently tugging at it before kissing the sting before lowering her head to trail kisses down your body. Her tongue traces patterns on your inner thighs, teasing you, building your anticipation as she settles between your thighs this time, her warm breath teasing your sensitive skin. She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire, seeking permission. You nod, unable to form words.

The first touch of her tongue against you makes you cry out, your hips lifting off the bed. Alexia's hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as she explores you with her lips and tongue. She takes her time, learning what makes you gasp and moan, what makes your body tremble.

Alexia's tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, with exquisite skill, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick flicks that send jolts of pleasure through your body. Your hands grip the sheets, your head thrown back as waves of sensation wash over you.

Her hands caress your thighs, occasionally dipping lower to tease your entrance. The dual sensations make your head spin, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear. Your hips move of their own accord, seeking more contact, more friction. Alexia's free hand splays across your stomach, holding you down gently as she works you closer and closer to the edge. "Alexia," you gasp, your voice breathy and desperate. "Oh shit, Alexia..."

She hums in response, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure building within you. Your thighs begin to tremble, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

You look down, meeting Alexia's gaze. The sight of her between your legs, her eyes dark with desire, sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. You reach down, running your fingers through her hair, gently tugging trying to hold on or dear life.

She responds eagerly, increasing the pressure and speed of her tongue. Your breath comes in short gasps now, your hips moving in rhythm with her. Working together towards the ultimate ending. The tension builds within you, a coiling spring ready to release.

Alexia slips two fingers inside you, the added stimulation pushes you closer to the edge. You’re so close you feel the need to tell her, “I’m so close” you gasp, your voice trembling with need.

Alexia redoubles her efforts, her tongue moving faster, more insistently against you. Her fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that makes you see stars. The dual sensations are overwhelming, pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity. Threatening to send you spiralling towards your peak.

Your back arches off the bed, your thighs trembling as you teeter on the edge of ecstasy. Your fingers moving to tightening on the sheets pulling at them as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity.

Alexia's free hand slides up your body to caress your breast, her thumb brushing over your nipple. The added stimulation is the final push you need.

"Fuck! Alexia!" you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you. Waves of ecstasy roll through your body, making you tremble and shake. “Yes” you cry out, Alexia doesn't let up, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible until you gently push her away, oversensitive.

She kisses her way back up your body as you come down from your high, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. When she reaches your face, you pull her in for a deep kiss, tasting yourself on her lips.

Alexia settles beside you, her arm draped across your waist as she nuzzles into your neck, as you both catch your breath. Your breathing slowly returns to normal as you bask in the afterglow, feeling utterly content and sated.

The moonlight bathes the room in a soft glow, casting gentle shadows across her face.

You turn your head to look at her, marvelling at how beautiful she looks with her tousled hair and flushed cheeks, her eyes bright with contentment.

"That was..." you trail off, unable to find words adequate enough to describe the experience.

"Amazing," Alexia finishes for you, a soft smile playing on her lips. She reaches up to brush a strand of hair from your face, her touch tender and loving. She leans in to kiss you gently, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

"You're amazing," you murmur against her mouth.

Your legs tangling together beneath the sheets, savouring the feeling of skin against skin her arm draping over your waist, “What was the score again?” You laugh gently “This wasn’t a booty call by the way” You blink, “That doesn’t mean i didn’t want to, I would never say no to you, but i want you to know i called you tonight because i wanted to see you, i had a shit game and the only thing i knew would make it better was you”

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I didn’t think it was” you gently moved your fingers over her head massaging as she held her face in your neck her soft breathe warming the spot, the breathing soon changed and you knew she’d fallen asleep the emotion and excursions of the day catching up with her.

It took you longer to feel tired, just basking in the feeling of having her close in your bed this way, you careful to not wake her dragged the sheets up over you both, put both arms around her kissed her head closed your eyes and actively tried to get some sleep yourself.

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

563 notes · View notes

plutoslastwords · 2 months ago

Note

More baby norris please. What about her having an innocent baby crush on one of the drivers (Charles, George,..) and Labdo being an overprotectiv dad.

new favourite

lando norris x daughter!reader, charles leclerc x norris!daughter!reader, (slight) carlos sainz x norris!daughter!reader

summary: baby norris finds a new paddock crush, lando is less than pleased.

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: sorry i've been mia for the past week.... but i'm back :DD hope you guys enjoy, thank you so so so so so so so much for 200 followers, i am genuinely lost for words, i love you all! pls feel free to send in any requests xx

~~~

Though they wouldn’t say that they are each other’s best friends, the Formula 1 drivers do end up spending quite a lot of time together.

Whether it be at races, events or even travelling together, no matter how different some sort of bond is created between them all. They are the people who really understand each other, the only ones who know exactly what they’re all going through.

This means that being the daughter of Lando Norris, you also know the other drivers fairly well.

Lando doesn’t mind this at all, honestly it’s great. It’s an excuse to put some babysitting jobs onto his other drivers, and they can’t say anything about it because just look at your face!

He does mind, however, when a certain Monaquese driver manages to woo his perfect, precious angel.

It starts at the Monaco Grand Prix. You’re holding your daddy’s hand, toddling through the paddock, occasionally pointing at something that you find especially exciting, whilst Lando talks to a media crew about his thoughts and feelings for the weekend.

Your big grins grows impossibly bigger when you see your favourite Uncle Carlos! You giggle gleefully, detaching yourself from Lando and sprinting as fast as you can to Carlos’ awaiting arms.

“Chiquita!! I’ve missed you!” He spins you around in the air, whilst you carry on giggling. “Why don’t I take you into Ferrari, hm? You think your daddy would mind?”

You shake your head, you don’t care if your daddy does mind, you just want to spend time with Uncle Carlos.

You had never been in the Ferrari garage before, and you probably stick out like a sore thumb, dressed in a little pink dress with a little papaya Mclaren cap atop your head. Some of the mechanics give you and Carlos some odd looks, but eventually connect the dots in their heads.

“Carlos, who’s this?” A new, strange voice asks. Carlos turns and so you do too, the strange man reminds you of Carlos a bit, but not really. He has pretty eyes. And pretty hair. You shove your face into Carlos’ shoulder, giggling quietly to yourself about the strange pretty man.

Carlos chuckles at your antics, “This is Lando’s little one,” He introduces you, “Chiquita, are you going to say hi to Charles?” He strokes your hair.

You shake your head, still giggling. You poke your head up to look at the pretty man again, he’s smiling at you now, his smile is pretty as well. You shove your face back into Carlos’ neck.

“Baby, say hi to Charles, hm?”

You give a slight, shy wave, barely lifting your head from its sanctuary in Carlos’ neck. The pretty man coos at you.

“Hello, cherie…” You like his voice as well, he has a nice voice. You giggle. “She’s a bit shy?” He asks Carlos.

“She’s normally quite excited, what’s up with you, hm?” You just shake your head again, embarrassed at showing your face in front of the pretty man. “Is Charles scaring you, chiquita?”

You shake your head, not wanting to admit anything to Carlos.

Before he can say anything in response, however, someone calls his name saying that he is needed urgently somewhere in the garage.

“Oh god, I should go. Charles, can you bring her back to Lando?”

Charles nods, and accepts you when Carlos passes you to him. You like the feeling of being in pretty man’s arms. You put your head on his shoulder, watching everything going on behind him.

“Okay, cherie, we’re gonna get you back to your daddy now, does that sound okay?”

You nod in response, just content with being in his hold, no matter what you’re doing.

“Can’t believe I haven’t met you before, hm? Gotta get to know you, what’s your favourite colour, cherie?”

“Pink…” you giggle, excited to be talking about your favourite things with the pretty man.

On the journey from the Ferrari garage to the Mclaren garage the pretty man continues asking you questions in order to get to know you. You become quite fond of him, he has a little dog called Leo who he has said that you can meet.

By the time you get to the Mclaren garage, you don’t want to let go. But soon, enough Charles spots Lando and begins heading over.

“Oh hello, my angel! How was Ferrari?” Lando coos, reaching out to take you from Charles, but you refuse, clinging onto him like a little crab.

“Baby.. c’mon, we gotta let Charles get back, okay? Come to daddy, my love…” You shake your head, still refusing. You want to stay with the nice, pretty man.

“It’s okay, cherie, I will see you again soon, okay? I promise.” Charles hands you over to your dad, which you begrudgingly accept, blushing at his words.

Lando notices this, sending Charles an odd look. He gives him a short goodbye, before taking you to his driver’s room, where you are going to stay whilst he goes out for a practise session.

“You liked Charles then…?”

You just giggle, embarrassed again that people have noticed your slight infatuation with the pretty man.

“Baby… Charles is a boy, boys are stinky!!”

“Charles smells nice, daddy!”

He sighs at that. He knows that there’s no winning with this, and he hates it. No matter how silly it may be, his tiny, perfect, angel daughter has a crush and he’s not happy.

“No, darling, Charles is a boy, boys aren’t nice, okay?”

You frown at that, Charles was very nice to you…

The conversation ends there, Lando placing you in his driver’s room, with a member of the team to look after you, giving you a sweet kiss on the top of the head before he goes out to practise.

***

The next time that you get to see Charles is at Silverstone. You’re walking through the paddock with your Grandma and Grandpa when you see him.

You screech and toddle over to him. He gives you a similar grin, scooping you up into his arms.

“Salut, cherie! It has been so long!” He hugs you close, taking you into the Ferrari hospitality with him.

When his parents tell him that you have gone off with Charles, Lando is not happy. He marches to the Ferrari hospitality.

“Baby, it’s time to go now, okay?” He says, leaving no room for arguments as he grabs you from Charles’ arms.

You kick up a bit of a fuss, whining in protest and flailing your limbs about, but your dad’s mind is made up and you’re not strong enough to go against it.

“Angel, I thought I told you that Charles was a meanie boy, hm?” He berates, with no real malice, as he walks you back to Mclaren.

“But Charlie is nice, daddy!”

“No, baby, all boys are mean and you will never ever ever like them, okay? You promise daddy? Daddy will look after you, forever and ever”

“I promise…” as much as you love Charles, in the end there is no one that you love quite as much as your daddy..

“Good girl, daddy loves you more than anything.”

~~~

a/n: tysm for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! send in any requests or if you just want a chat xx

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 daughter #lando norris daughter

609 notes · View notes

everythingspokenfor · 4 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Summary: Bakugou didn't realise that the hand whose help he rejected would be the one he holds for the rest of his life...

Bakugou who swears to hate your guts from that day he met you, the U.A. entrance exams, calls you an extra getting in his way when you were clearly trying to help him. Who sends you the nastiest side eye when you plop down next to him, on your assigned seat.

Bakugou who refuses to listen to any of your suggestions when you both end up being partners for projects. Drives you to the point that you end up having to go to Aizawa to hopefully get your partner changed.

Bakugou who realises that maybe your input isn't as bad as he originally thought when Aizawa forces you both to communicate. Who won't admit but he does think that you are a smart one, and he would gladly partner up with you again.

Bakugou who is smug when you both end up getting best grades on your project, who is even giddy to work with you. Who spends hours convincing himself that he is only excited because you are smart, that's it.

Bakugou who ends up sparring with you because Kirishima had a mission, who realises that not only are you smart but also strong, using your quirk in a way that leaves him baffled.

Bakugou who still picks fights with you, both still at each other's throats, it's worse now that you both are aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses. You bicker over movies during movie night, bicker over what song to play during trips.

Bakugou who is surprised to find you at his door after he was kidnapped, his mother ecstatic to see a girl coming over to see him, teasing him about finally growing up.

"The hell?! How do you know my address? Stalkin' me?" Bakugou spits out, glaring at you with his arms crossed.

"Aizawa told me, plus I wanted to meet my friend." You chimed, the word 'friend' slightly dragged out. He stared at you in disgust, cringing at your way of establishing friendship.

"Also I got spicy garlic noodles, the one you like." You had him the white bag, passing him the container.

"Did you poison it?" He was already suspicious of your presence in his house, let alone you getting him his favourite noodles.

"Can't even be kind in the economy," you spoke dramatically, hand coming to rest on your forehead, as you pretended to wipe your tears.

"I got it cause I had it few days ago, and it reminded me of you." You professed, looking over to a clock and concluding it was time to leave.

Bakugou who spends the evening thinking about how you thought of him, when you had those noodles, how you remembered how much he liked them, how you got it for him.

Bakugou who acknowledges you as a friend by the end of first year, something a little more by the first half of your second year, the war making him realise just how much everyone mean to him, just how much you mean to him.

Bakugou who somewhat considers the idea that might like you, more than a friend should, and he is scandalized, the possibility of liking you like that makes him avoid you. He doesn't need distractions, doesn't need anything to prevent him from reaching no. 1, so he avoids you.

Bakugou who starts skipping movie nights with you, starts sparring with Kirishima more often, starts taking evening shifts at Best Jeanist's agency to avoid you. Who still cares for you tho, he quietly asks Iida to help you with academics because he knows you'll get anxious, who asks Uraraka to spar with you. Who hopes his distance doesn't affect you, hurt you as much as it hurts him.

Bakugou who is startled when you show up at his door, in the middle of the night, few weeks later, tired of him avoiding you without any explanation, desperate to get him back in your life.

You look tired, eyes red and puffy like you just cried, cheeks sunken.

"I am sorry, whatever I did, I am sorry," You sniffed, eyes glossy with a new wave of tears, Bakugou felt like shit, it was his fault, was the one that wanted to distance himself and here you were apologising.

"I am sorry, I am an idiot," He confessed, hands coming up to press against his forehead," Shouldn't have pushed you awa-." He barely has a chance to continue before you wrap your arms around him, Bakugou shoves his face into the crook of your neck, finally letting go of his tears.

"I just wanna know why, I don't want our friendship to ever break, Suki." You admit, moving past him into his room, pulling him with you.

"I was being stupid," He sighed out tiredly, choosing to simply hold you tightly against his chest.

Bakugou who stays behind during 2nd year prom, with you because you didn't feel like going, who lies about not having a suit when you feel guilty about making him stay with you, both of you spend the night in his dorm, watching movies all night long. If you weren't so enamored by him you would have noticed the burnt orange tie peeking through his closet.

Bakugou who passes you notes during boring lectures, drawing little caricature of people around, writing down little notes. Who messes up his sleep schedule tutoring you before exams, helping you study, sharing his notes.

Bakugou who despite being in 3rd year still argues with you, still squabbling over which movie to watch, what to cook, but there is a difference in the way you look at each other, there is no longer hatred in your eyes, only fondness and maybe something more.

Bakugou who helps you patch up injuries after rough missions, who holds your tightly against his chest when you sob over how sometimes you don't think you are strong enough. Who cleans you up, tucks you in bed and stay with you till you feel better.

Bakugou who never bother entertaining any of the girls that come his way, eyes set on you only. Who no longer gets mad when someone from his friends group points out how much of a lover boy he is. It's true he thinks.

Bakugou who shows you his shoujo manga collection, lets you borrow them only on one condition, that you read them to him, who spends countless evenings with his head resting on your thighs, listening to you read.

Bakugou who takes you to the bookstore on your days off, both of you skipping between the shelves, pulling out a pile of mangas that you end reading all afternoon. He makes a note of the ones you liked, writing them down in his phone.

Bakugou who tags along with the squad to a night out at the club, only because you decided to go, he helps you get ready, picking out your dress, helping with your eyeliner.

The music was loud, too loud for you, Bakugou had his arm around you protecting you from the dancing crowd, if you had it your way you would have pressed yourself in his arms and hide away, but you didn't. Mina was leaving for internship after graduation, you needed to let go for tonight.

You pull away from Bakugou, semi-yelling in his ear about wanting to use the bathroom, he almost pulls away from the group, ready to accompany you there. You shake your head at him, signalling that you'll be back soon.

Finishing up, you leave the bathroom, only to be stopped by a guy your age, he was clearly drunk, slurring his words, trying to move closer, he tried to hold your hand, pulling at it. Had it been any other time, you would have knocked some sense into him. But today you were not feeling well. Your eyes darted around, trying to call someone, before they landed on Bakugou.

Bakugou who immediately starts moving towards you, when he notices your panicked look, slams the glass on to the table, in few wide strides he was already looming over the creep,"The fuck, do you think you are doing?" He growled, sliding a hand behind your back and pulling you onto his chest.

The guy scoffs before looking around in embarrassment, too afraid to stand up to Bakugou he moves away from you both, stumbling out the club.

Bakugou looks down at you, with soft eyes pulling you away from the crowd into a empty hallway. "You gonna be okay?" He asked in hushed tone, stepping back to give you space, but you cried out, hastily hugging him tight, as you breathed unevenly against him.

He wrapped his arms around you, fingers running through your hairs, the other protectively against your back. It took a few minutes for your breath to even out, and you slowly pulled away, slightly cringing at the wet stain on his shirt from your tears and potentially snot.

"I am sorry." You said, voice still a little hoarse from the crying, you didn't move to far away from him, still in his embrace, still in his arms.

"For what?" He queried.

"For being weak, for not being able to defend myself, for the snot on your shirt." You rasped, letting out a bittersweet laugh at your pathetic self.

"Don't ever apologise for asking for help, you are more than capable of taking care of yourself," He spoke softly, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and whipping your nose,"you just needed a little help today."

You nod your head, stepping away, glancing towards the crowded hall nervously. "Do you wanna go home, we can leave now." He hums, hand coming to caress your cheek, palm subtly covering your view of the party.

"I would like that." You lean against his palm, Bakugou helps you gather you stuff and move you both out of the club, hand never leaving yours.

Bakugou who is always with you, whether it be sitting in class, or walking in the hallway, at one point even Aizawa stopped berating you for staying in each other's room past curfew.

Staying in each other's room becomes such a prominent habit, that you can no longer distinguish between his and yours. Closets filled with both of your clothes, textbooks and notebooks scattered between shelves.

Bakugou who loves adorning you in his merch, official and unofficial both. Constantly getting you t-shirts with skulls on them, sometimes skulls with bows because he thought they were cute.

Bakugou who gets you tank-tops and t-shirts so similar to his own, that people end up asking if he actually let you borrowed them or if they are new, who gets so smug that people think you are wearing his clothes.

Bakugou who knows how cold your ears get during winter, gets you big, puffy, orange earmuffs, with boom written on the headband connecting them.

Bakugou who makes a habit of hovering over you, ends up giving you scary dog privileges, making any guy avoid you, slots his head into the crook of your neck, when someone tries to flirt with you. Somehow always attached by your side.

Bakugou who gives every guy that tries to ask you a stink eye, glaring at the guy from over your shoulder, scaring away majority of them. You have to lie to all the guys that ask you out for 3rd year prom that you aren't going, only to show up in matching outfits with Bakugou.

Bakugou who shrugs his shoulders when Kirishima questions him 'What's going on between you two?', eyes darting towards you as you shyly duck your head into his neck, Bakugou leans down pressing a kiss against your forehead.

Bakugou who confesses to you few months after your graduation, tickles your side relentlessly when you pretend to think about his proposal, you both quite down as he presses your foreheads together, breaths heavy as you wind down. You murmur a 'yes' before leaping in to kiss him.

897 notes · View notes

onskepa · 11 months ago

Note

Hey saw tou were open!!

Could you do a ronal x platonic female reader, who is having her first mother's day as a new mom. She goes to ronal and explains the earth holiday. As part of her tradition she gives ronal a mother's day gift and ronal gets to see cute teeny tiny human baby!

Hellooooooo~!! So when I read this one, I knew just where to put it! Enjoy~!!

Irayo pt1

-------------

Irayo: Best mama's around!

Ronal kept herself busy these past few days. More busy than usual. Anything to distract the lingering worry of her friend, Irayo. It has been 8 days now, Ronal counted since her last visit. Not just ronal who worries, but her daughter young tsireya is now questioning where her auntie is. Her, and slowly the villagers begin to worry.

Not to make her worries any better, Ronal has no way to communicate with Irayo. She remembers clearly, the last time she was her friend. Everything was fine that day, irayo behaved normal, acted as normal as she could be. Made another set of friendship bracelets, helped take care of tsireya, did her part in the village. Everything was normal.

So why now is she gone? Are the sky demons preventing her from returning? Did they deem her useless now? Is she alright?

So many questions linger in Ronal's mind. Anything she does, her worries are not calmed down. If by day 10 irayo does not return, ronal can only fear the worse.

“A little bit dramatic, don't you think?” Irayo asks as she plays patty cake with little tsireya. Ronal was too busy hugging her from the side, saying how worried she was and what possible routes irayo was going through.

“Not dramatic, only worried,” Ronal says, a bit stubbornly.

Irayo can only laugh at the tsahik’s antics.

“What happened? Why were you gone for many days?” Ronal finally asks. Needing to know if whatever happened, that irayo was alright.

“I am fine, its just I wasnt feeling well and I had to be examined to find out what was wrong” irayo answers. This made Ronal more worried. “And? Are you well? Why didnt you come to me? I could have helped you” ronal gently scolded. Irayo only shook her and answered in her own way.

She smiled and grabbed Ronal by the hands, guiding them to her belly.

“I am pregnant”

Those three words echoed in ronal’s head, slowing taking in what the human just said. Her eyes were wide, almost unbelieving what she said.

Irayo laughed at Ronal’s reaction. Tsireya laughs as well even though she doesn't know why.

“And who is the fool who believes he is worthy of you?”

Word spread of Irayo’s return and the news of her pregnancy, the people went a bit wild. Welcoming her back, many gave her gently hugs, being mindful of her belly. Even though irayo said she was only 2 weeks pregnant, none took it lightly. Pregnancy at an early stage, any stage really, is the most important. Anything can happen.

So the villagers, and by extension ronal and tonowari, made sure irayo only did safe, light tasks. Some had given her many things for her baby when its born. Children would follow irayo and ask her so many questions, like what is the difference between a na’vi baby and a human baby. Will the baby be blue or a different color? Small or big? Cute or ugly?

So many things and Irayo was just happy to resume it all. Even more now that soon, her little one will get to experience the same excitement as she does. Her stage is still early, but no doubt her motherly instincts kicked in.

As time goes on, ronal allowed irayo to take care of tsireya more often, to practice in how to take care of a baby. Would talk about her experiences in taking care of an infant and so on. However Ronal does not know how much of the information will be useful to her friend. As she does not know how different a human baby is to a na’vi baby.

And as the months go by, ronal witnesses irayo’s belly growing. While she may not fully show it, Ronal is secretly excited for the baby to arrive. One day, when Irayo was 4 months pregnant, she asked a sudden question.

“Would you like to feel the baby?”

This question surprised ronal.

In na’vi customs, pregnant females only allow their mates or really close family members to touch their bellies.

Is it the same for humans?

“Can I…?” Ronal asks hesitantly.

Irayo nods and gently places ronal’s bigger hands onto her growing belly.

“The baby is still small, but in future months, they will move and might even kick,” irayo explains. Being still, Ronal can sense a small heart beat. From her experience, this small heart beat sounds healthy.

“You baby is strong,” she comments. Irayo giggles, she doesn't doubt ronal. She can feel her baby.

“Baby?” little tsireya echos the word as she waddles over to the two mothers. Practicing how to mother with the little one, irayo feels she is ready. But slight doubt still lingers in her.

Playing with the child's hair, Irayo confesses her inner struggles.

“Ronal…do you think I will be a good mother?” she asks.

Ronal looks at her friend, a sad smile on the human's face. “Of course you will be. Perhaps not perfect, but a good mother. I have seen you around my child, with the villagers' children. Why think you will not be?”

“I don't know, maybe it is just my mind playing games. I see how you raise tsireya, when she was born to now. You are wonderful to her. You have far more experience than I. the other women, I see how they handle their babies. I fear that whatever I will try, it won't be enough. That maybe I will fail and-”

Ronal places her hands gently on irayo’s cheek, making her look at her.

“You will be a wonderful mother to your baby. Anything you will do, shall do, will be seen as perfection to your baby because it will be all that they know. I am not perfect irayo, no one else. I make my own mistakes, but we learn and so will you”

“Learn!” tsireya repeated.

Both ladies look down at the little girl with soft smiles.

Irayo leans a bit to kiss tsireya’s head.

“At least my baby will have someone to look up to”

9 months had come to completion. Ronal wasnt able to see irayo for a while. Irayo explained she will need to be under constant supervision since the due date was nearing. Ronal understood, but the inner fears and anxiety creeps every night.

Will irayo be alright? Will the birth be safe? Will the baby be healthy?

So many questions, ronal even suggested she helps to deliver the baby. Willing to push aside her own personal views of the sky demons for the sake of her friend. While irayo was happy, she couldn't.

And it wasn't for another 3 months that finally, irayo returned. This time she wasn't alone.

She came to the village with her baby.

Everyone was so ecstatic!

They all surrounded her and her baby. Welcoming her back and welcoming the baby as well. Her baby was so cute! Mothers praised the little one, seeing how healthy the baby looked. And many more for being curious, it was the first time they have seen a human baby! Who knew they could be adorable?

However the crowd was quickly disbursed by the presence of ronald and tonowari with tsireya in her father’s arms.

Ronal of course was the first to hug irayo, letting out a long relieved sigh.

“Thank Eywa you have returned” she whispers. Looking at irayo, she didnt know if it was the sun, or something else but the human had a natural glow in her physic. That motherly glow all females have after birth. It made irayo look stunning.

“I am happy to be back,” irayo says.

Soft babbles were heard, in the small bassinet was the human baby.

Leaning down, ronal took a good look at the human baby.

“Has your eyes…” she comments.

The baby stared at ronal, no fear, only fascination.

“Would you like to carry my baby?” Irayo asks, knowing ronal wants to. Without needing to answer, ronal carefully and gently holds the baby into her arms.

“Baby!” tsireya squeals.

Tonowari chuckles, “yes me’ite, it is a baby. We must be careful and be gentle” he says, tsireya nodding.

“Your baby is so beautiful…oh Eywa, maybe you bless this baby with a great life and a wonderful future” ronal prays.

Tonowari gestures irayo to a certain direction, “come, there is much to talk about”

Tsireya was entertaining the baby, showing many toys and singing little songs. Never keeping her eyes away from her new friend.

Irayo sits beside ronal, “I have a gift for you~” she teases.

“I wonder what it could be”

Already knowing what it is.

As predicted, irayo brought out 4 bracelets, “new BFF’s bands!” irayo says happily.

Carefully tying it around ronal’s wrist, doing the same for herself, tsireya and her baby. “We shall commemorate this day as our first mother’s day!” she goes on.

Ronal looks at her curiously.

“Mother’s day? What is that?”

“Mother’s day is a human tradition. Once a year on a special day, we celebrate our mothers. Giving them gifts, a day to relax, and appreciating them overall. So, this is my gift to you and to myself. It is not often celebrated here with my co-workers but at least I can celebrate it with you!” irayo happily answers.

Looking down at her new bracelet, tracing over the beads and sea glass, she likes it.

“Gifts huh…well then, I have a gift for you as well” ronal says.

This makes irayo get closer, already excited.

“What is it?” irayo answers. Ronal answers deadpanned.

“I am pregnant”

NGL I got carried away but I like it! So, until next time! See ya!

891 notes · View notes

bywons · 6 months ago

Text

IRRESISTIBLE 𖥔 抱擁

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───he’s home late, but he knows just how to melt your heart

𝑜𝑓 · 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝑖𝐒 ܃ hubby!heeseung x wife!r 1219 fluff domestic au ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 kissing skinship suggestive ｡｡｡／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 )

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა not proofread at all, but i hope this hits ! TT

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

12:27 am. middle of the night, the second hand of the clock mocks you for your fowl mood as it ticks away without any care. another minute passes by.

12:28 am.

tick. tock. tick. tock.

in a careless and hasty manner, you take out the last bowls from the dishwasher and dump it in its racks, before marching forward to and dump them on the racks, before making your way towards the couch, back facing the doorway.

12:30 am. and still no hint of your husband, heeseung. he should’ve been home by now, grinning as he burst through the door with an excited “I’m home!” ready to sweep you off your feet, holding you against him. instead, the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking clock are your only companions, the silence amplifying your growing frustration. your fingers drum against the arm of the couch as your gaze drifts repeatedly to the door, despite your resolve to stay indifferent.

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, and the cushions of the couch creak softly under your weight as you shift, refusing to turn toward the door. the dim light in the living room casts long shadows, matching the brooding mood you’ve wrapped yourself in. of all days, why today?

12:31 am. the front slowly creaks open.

you hear the soft rustle of his keys hitting the table, but you don’t move, determined to stay mad. the faint sound of his footsteps approaching sends a shiver down your spine, your heart softens at the thought of him being tired, and you slowly get up.

“i’m home,” his voice is gentle, as though he’s approaching a ticking time bomb, and, in a way, he is, “hello?”

heeseung has a small heart attack when he sees you standing still in front of him. eyes narrowed, hands by your side, a bored expression and body language as you step forward to take his briefcase, your fingers brushing against his as you do so.

just as you turn around swiftly, without even greeting heeseung or looking at him, his hand does find your wrist in a swifter motion. he steps closer to you, you feel the material of his shirt against his back, his tall figure looming above yours.

“are you really that mad?” heeseung mumbles, his voice low and teasing, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear as he tightens his grip on your wrist. his chest presses gently against your back, the familiar scent of him — a mixture of cologne and something uniquely heeseung.

you try to keep your composure, lips pressed into a thin line, but the way his thumb softly caresses the inside of your wrist makes your resolve falter. he knows exactly what he’s doing, the way his presence alone can make your anger melt away.

you don't answer, still determined to play this out. instead, you pull your wrist free and make a beeline for the kitchen, after placing his briefcase on the couch. returning to the isolated sliced tomatoes on the kitchen counter, you wipe away a drop of sweat from underneath your chin.

“come on now, baby,” his voice is low as he sighs and comes right behind you, his hands sneakily wrapping around your waist. with the other, he pushes away the hair from your shoulders and neck, his fingers enticing an electric shock within you as soon as his skin touches yours.

“i know im late,” he mumbles, lips close to your ears, hands fully wrapped around you as his back presses against you again. finally, placing an array of kisses along your shoulders to your neck upto your ears, trying his best to calm his angry wife down, “forgive me, pretty? i had to work overtime this week, that's all,” he whispers.

he’s so irresistible.

you try to maintain your anger, but the warmth of his touch and the tenderness in his voice are like a slave to your simmering frustration. you pause, knife in hand, hovering over the half-sliced tomatoes, unwilling to give in just yet.

“overtime?” you say, your voice laced with sarcasm as you shrug his arms off. “that's all you ever say, heeseung? you could've at least called. i sat here wondering if—”

heeseung interrupts your rant, gently spinning you around to face him. his hands rest lightly on your hips, and his dark eyes hold a soft, apologetic gleam. “you're right,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “i should've called. i messed up.”

“you can't just show up late, say ‘sorry,’ and expect me to forgive you,” you retort, though your voice lacks the venom it held earlier.

heeseung smirks, a playful glint replacing the guilt in his eyes. “you're right again. so let me make it up to you.”

before you can protest further, heeseung steps closer, his hands firm on your waist as he lifts you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. the cold surface contrasts with the warmth radiating from his touch, sending a shiver through you.

“you deserve more than just words,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

his hands remain at your waist, fingers splayed as though he’s anchoring himself to you. slowly, he leans in, his face so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. his nose brushes against yours, soft and tentative, as though giving you a moment to pull away.

but you don’t.

when his lips finally meet yours, it’s not a rushed kiss meant to placate you; it’s deliberate, deep, and full of meaning. the world around you blurs into nothingness as his mouth moves against yours, firm yet tender. he tilts his head slightly, angling to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding up from your waist to your lower back, pulling you closer.

your hands, which had been hovering hesitantly in the air, find their way to his shoulders. the fabric of his shirt is soft beneath your fingers as you clutch him instinctively, grounding yourself in the moment. heeseung’s lips are warm, moving with a mix of urgency and reverence, as if he’s trying to pour every unsaid apology, every ounce of love, into this single act.

his tongue grazes your lower lip, asking for permission, and you grant it without a second thought. the kiss deepens, turning more passionate, more consuming. his fingers trace patterns along your spine, sending shivers coursing through you. the faint scent of his cologne mingles with the lingering aroma of tomatoes and dish soap, creating a sensory overload that makes your head spin.

when he finally pulls back, just enough for your noses to touch, you’re both slightly breathless. his forehead rests against yours, his lips curling into a small, triumphant smile.

“still mad?” he whispers, his voice rough and teasing, his thumb brushing gently against your hip.

“you’re infuriating,” you mumble, though the words lack conviction.

“and you’re irresistible,” he counters, his hands not leaving your waist, as though he’s afraid to let you go.

you smack his shoulder lightly, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “fine,” you sigh, feigning exasperation. “but this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, his tone laced with amusement as he steals one more kiss, his lips lingering just a little longer this time.

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels @k-films CLICK ME

587 notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 4 months ago

Text

Yandere Overblot Universe Part 7 (Final)

Rules | Kofi | TWST Masterlist (3)

Mmmh….”

You’re body was full of aching, the stress of running and encountering the worst sides of your friends weighing on you so heavily you debated if you wanted to sleep more

“I would’ve gotten my henchhuman back just fine if the others hadn’t held me back!”

“Grim…you still have nightmares of the overblots don’t you?”

“W-w-what? Who do you think I am? I’m going to be one of the greatest mages of all time those guys don’t scare me!”

“Which is why you came crying to us when they went in?”

“N-n-o!”

Hearing that familiar voice and feeling those familiar paws tapping on your stomach you couldn’t help letting your lip twitch into a smile

“Aw looks like someone’s awake. Care to grace us with your presence (Y/n)?”

The egging in Jade’s voice reminded you of Floyd

Almost like he was warning you to wake or feel the wrath of relentless tickles

So you did

“(Y/n)!”

You held Grim tightly into your chest breathing in the smell of his ash smelling fur

It never felt so good to have your lungs full of his brimstone smelling fur and not ink

Finally looking up you got to see the familiar faces of your saviors plus a growing crowd

“Don’t tell me your terrified of us again herbivore?”

Leona’s there sitting in the chair closest to the bed next to Ace and Deuce like he’s been guarding you this whole time

“If they are they have every right. Tell me Darling what horrors were in there?”

It’s Vil on the otherside his makeup faded around the eyes like he’s been crying

He’s holding your hands so tightly

“Don’ get so worried. They’re strong like me.”

Epel chimes in with a smile, one that earns an awkward look from the Heartslabyul duo

“Not strong enough to not nearly drop them coming back.”

“Shuddap !”

“Hey hey no need to fight you guys! All that matters is that (Y/n) is safe and sound!”

Jamil doesn’t care to comment before shoving himself past Vil to lay something warm in your lap

“I figured they probably didn’t have any real food, so I made you extra.”

The savory smell made you and Grim very excited, both of you looking at the container with anticipation

“Thank you Jamil!”

He looks proud, holding his head away as if that would hide his flustered face

“No problem it’s what any good…friend would do.”

“Yes just like any good friend would insist you have tea before indulging in something heavy.”

“I’m not sure if it’s tea you should be having but something light is preferred.”

“Riddle, Azul?”

Riddle lightly bows his head in a silent apology

“I apologize for not being here when you woke but I had to ensure that the matter of this mirror was taken care of.”

You tilt your head thinking to yourself

It felt like ages ago that you had gone in expecting to follow your friends to some resort a small group was going to

It all feels foggy

But you barely recall thinking about home

Not ramshackle home but your home

Maybe that was why you ended up…there

“I too was working awfully hard to bar that location would never be seen by anyone ever again.”

Azul uselessly added but he was puffing his chest like Grim did when he put out his flames on his own

“Uh thanks Azul and Riddle.”

“But of course, it didn’t matter that such a thing has never happened before you. With a student’s safety at risk we couldn’t possibly still have it be accessible by any means.”

“Yes, yes you can pay me back with a small favor. When you’re better of course.”

“Uh Azul I think you forget they never asked to pay you back.”

“Yeah Azul can’t you wait until they’re not bedridden to try and scam them? That’s like such trash behavior.”

The Octavinelle dorm leader sneers at the ipad you didn’t realize was propped on the end table next to your bed

Lifting it up to look in the camera, you wait for the video chat to properly activate

Ding Ding

Finally you can see the dark expanse of his room highlighted by his screens and a small unfinished strip of blue LED lights

“Don’t turn the camera, the normies wouldn’t understand.”

You giggle, “I won’t but why isn’t Ortho here. Usually he’d be here for you!”

Idia looks off to the side as if he’s contemplating what lie he’s going to tell

“He’s just…doing stuff with the mirror. To keep you safe an all that!

“Aww well thank you too Idia! I really appreciate everyone jumping into help especially you guys!”

Looking at Jade, Ace, Deuce, and Jack who’s been sitting near the doorway of the infirmary and Cater who’s been weirdly quiet at the foot of your bed

Looking past the other dorm leaders you scrunch your brow

“Where’s Sebek and Silver? Not that I demand everyone greet me when I wake up but I want to thank them as soon as possible.”

The others collectively swoon smile at your gratitude before awkwardly avoiding your gaze

“Let’s say they needed to occupy their attention towards someone else who’s going through…a crisis.”

As if on cue the crack of thunder has everyone jumping; the sudden storm making everyone tense

Faster than you can register the door swings open and there is none other than Malleus Draconia who silently demands everyone move

Reluctantly they listen

With an unusual gentleness, he kneels on the floor to somewhat meet you at your eye-level

Cupping your cheeks with his tingly feeling hands where were his gloves

“Are you alright prefect? Breathing? None of your small fragile limbs broken?”

You laugh as you pat your hand against his

Your silent plea to stop squishing your face

He doesn’t listen

“I fwine Tsuno!”

He sighs resting his head into your lap, shoving Grim out of his place out of the way with his horns

“I feel ashamed. To know I could have prevented such tragedy and yet by my actions you were in danger again!”

You laugh and lightly pat his head like you would Grim

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Besides I’m sure it could’ve happened to anyone.”

Malleus involuntarily moves his tail tripping Epel who wasn’t too far

Sebek and Silver run in out of breath

“M-Master M-Malleus WE ARE HERE!”

“Glad to see you’re awake, (Y/n). You had us all worried for a second.”

You smile, “Thank you, Sebek, Silver. You guys really saved me back there if you hadn’t come–”

You didn’t want to finish and it seems like no one needed to everyone settling in there original spots around Malleus to keep talking

As if you hadn’t faced their exact inky opposites hours ago

Jack helped you with the IV in your arm, repeating something Crewel had said about refilling it of course Ace teased him about it

“Hey everybody heads up Mama Hounds coming.”

Cater’s warning had the first-years straightening up

The dorm leaders only adjusting themselves so that no one was touching you

Wouldn’t want to be sent to detention now+

“(Y/n)-Pup glad you’re up. I see the little fan club of your remains strong. Are they bothering you by any chance?”

You could see the suffocating grip he had on his crock and the scornful twist of his face

You figured it best to take the edge off before he lashed out someone

“Uh nope. Actually Jack was telling me about the IV and stuff.”

“Hm he did? Good then, pup. The rest of you, back up! After their medicine I won’t allow you all to play watch dog so you might as well start drawing lots now.”

A collective groans fills the room as they reluctantly prepare to draw lots

Blocked by Crewel who changes your IV, checks your temperature, before walking you vaguely through the cocktail of potions and pills he needs you to take

Unable to see the group all you can tell is that every time they pick a winner a new debate is held

While you didn’t condone violence like Ace being thrown near the door, it did feel nice to be wanted? missed

And the fights being anything but the inky use of their overblotted unique magic

“That medicine should be kicking in very soon,” Crewel lays you down lovingly wiping the back of his hand over your face and cheek

Following your gaze he sees you looking at the still bickering group

Hiding his gag he turns to you with a warm smile on his face

“I’ll break it up just sleep now, my sweet pup.” He kisses the top of your head

lingering to watch you lazily blink, submitting to the induced drowsiness

Satisfied he turns and gives the boys a single look which has them take the fighting outside

Escaping the fray is Grim

Who scampers away to curl into your side already preparing to snore right alongside

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Thanks Grim I’m happy to be back.”

“Hm,” he’s already dozing off, “I also wanted to say Grim likes you're new choker it’s kinda…cute. But not cuter than mine!”

He’s already out and you’re going over his last words

Choker?

You recall the the outfit change within Blotted Riddle’s domain and the following pain that came from it

Thinking back on it you didn’t remember feeling choked at the neck at all

Looking down you could barely make out the small dangling rose pendant

Instead of being held up by some inky string it was a neat simple woven piece

That didn’t feel the slightest bit restricting

Just snug

You hold the pendant in your hand, noting it’s warmth from hanging on your neck

You search for a clip to undo it, planning to inspect it

But alas you don’t find one and for a choker expected to stretch off of you it was hard to pull off

Even though you were struggling for a bit with it, it dawns on you just how tired you are now

Those meds were really fast

And you suspect your lack of strength to pull it off is thanks to them

Planning to do it later, you settle into the infirmary bed holding Grim close while you sleep

Finally you could rest, having survived those Overblotted friends of yours once again

Happy that you were safe with your real friends, in the real Twisted Wonderland

The Heartslabyul’s Vice dorm leader’s stomach churned at the swirling shards at his feet. Glimpses of his blotted dorm-leader’s angry glowing eyes unsettling him the most. As instructed he had his clones solemnly collect the broken pieces putting them into the various magical satchels. Lining up, each of them handed their respective satchels to the robot boy. Dutifully waiting for him to apply an unmeasurable amount of heat; reducing the shards of the mirror into a silvered, inky slop conducive with it’s magical origin.

“Mr. Crowley? Was this…necessary?”

The headmaster’s golden eyes shifted to his student. Filling him with a sense of dread, he narrowly scraped the surface of during Riddle’s overblot. Nonetheless Crowley smiled apathetically, a faux disguise of pride as he held his hand out to the shards still being collected.

“This was entirely necessary. Our dear prefect has been plagued with the dangerous idea of using the mirrors to return home. It is through my extreme generosity that we’ve deterred them safely.”

Ortho’s attention changed from Cater’s double still taking the pouch and performing his function. A technical noise rang out his yellow eyes darting from side to side as though reading a list of stats.

“This venture, headmaster, gave the prefect four abrasions to their forehead, a mild concussion, sprained ankle, and an insurmountable amount of aches that will leave them bedridden for approximately 3 days. I would conclude this was far from safe.”

Cater almost smiled but the guilt of the events prior to this made him feel…wrong. He had covered for Riddle; calling it a dorm-leader and vice dorm leader meeting when they went through the mirror on a weekend. Meeting up with the Octavinelle heads it felt criminal to quietly stand behind as Crowley spoke about the spell to cast on the mirror–an identical to the one they had for their dorm. Riddle, ever the observer, nodded at him in assurance.

“This is for them. If they believe going home now is best it is our duty as their…friends to intervene.”

The small smile he gave barely soothed his spirit. The smiling dorm and vice-dorm leader of Octavinelle didn’t help.

“Don’t fret a few small illusions to make sure they stay. Do you want them to leave, Cater?”

The sound of his name on the octopus’ slimy tongue, made him shape up. There was only one person that would make him support the strongest students’ unique magic to summon the spirits of their defeated, blotted counterparts. Only for the same person would he actually humor sending his clones to the opposite ends of the island to hide the melted shards.

“Only for you (Y/n)...We did it all for you!”

The worst part about it was that he couldn’t confess. When he held your hand the next day rattling off the hashtags made in your honor, all he could do was lie when he looked at the choker on your neck.

The only shard remaining of a barrier to your world. Your real world.

“Why do you keep looking so guilty, Cater?”

He sighed fighting the urge to curl into your lap and cry,”Nothing I just wish I could’ve been there for you…sooner I mean.”

The smile you gave him made him swoon and want to die at the same time.

“But Cater you were there for me,” could your hand in his get any warmer,”Even if you weren’t there in the beginning it’s like I could still feel you…all of you watching after me! Like heroes prepping to save the day!”

You had no idea how right you were.

320 notes · View notes

thirteenheavens · 4 months ago

Note

You mentioned drunk sex and I reaaaaaally want you to write that for every idol you write lol it’s my fave

So maybe we could start with yunho?😇

Thank you so much for your works, I love every letter of them😍

Notes: stop anon I’ll be counting on you to send them ahaha enjoy guys I love this one :D

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*

Yunho is already tipsy, laughing and stumbling as he tries to open the door to your shared apartment.

"Babe, I'm home," he calls out, finally managing to get inside.

You hear his voice and quickly run over to him, a big smile on your face.

"Yunho!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him. "You're drunk."

He stumbles a bit but catches himself, hugging you back tightly.

"Maybe I am," he says, his words slurring slightly. "But I missed you too much to care."

He leans down and kisses you passionately, his hands roaming your body.

"You smell so good," he murmurs against your lips, inhaling deeply. "And you look so damn sexy."

"You're not so bad yourself, handsome," you say, a smirk on your face. "Especially when you're drunk and horny." He grins, pulling you closer and biting your neck.

"I'm not just horny," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm needy." You let out a gasp as he bites down harder, leaving a mark.

"Need me, huh?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes darken with desire, his gaze fixated on you.

"Please, I need you to take care of me," he begs, his voice filled with desperation. "I need your touch, your body, everything."

“Maybe not tonight Yuyu you’re too drunk,” You say smiling at him in his state.

He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out in a childish manner.

"But I've been good," he whines, his grip on you tightening. "Why not tonight?"

You laugh at his behavior, ruffling his hair.

"Because you're too drunk to handle it," you say, trying to reason with him. "You'll regret it in the morning if we do anything."

He groans, clearly frustrated.

"But I don't care about tomorrow," he whines again, burying his face in your neck. "I just want you now."

"You're acting like a spoiled child," you tease, stroking his back. "Stop being so impatient."

He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, giving you his best attempt at a cute expression.

"Please, let's go to bed," he says, his voice soft and sweet. "I promise I'll be a good boy and listen to you."

You can't help but find him adorable like this, your heart melting at his words.

"Fine," you say, sighing in defeat. "Let's go to bed."

His face lights up with excitement, a huge smile spreading across it.

"Yes!" he exclaims, lifting you up in his arms bridal style. "I knew you'd give in."

He carries you to the bedroom, his movements still slightly clumsy due to his drunken state.

"Don't worry, I got this," he reassures you, even though he's clearly struggling to walk in a straight line. He almost trips multiple times, but manages to reach the bed and gently lay you down on it.

"See, I'm still capable," he says, trying to sound confident but still giggling.

He crawls onto the bed after you, hovering over you with a smirk.

"Now that I have you all to myself, I'm going to make sure you don't regret this." He boops your nose giggling.

You can't help but laugh along with him, finding his drunk boop cute.

"You're so adorable when you giggle like that," you say, booping his nose back.

He blushes, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"Only for you," he says, nuzzling his face into your neck. "You're the only one who gets to see me like this."

He struggles to take off his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the buttons.

"Ugh, why won't these damn buttons cooperate?" he groans, growing more frustrated by the second.

You sit up, watching him struggle with a mixture of amusement and fondness.

"Need some help there, love?" you ask, trying to hide your laughter.

He huffs, giving up on his shirt and looking at you with a pout.

"Yes, please help me," he admits, crossing his arms over his chest like a child throwing a tantrum.

You smile at his attitude, reaching out to unbutton his shirt for him.

"You're such a baby when you drink," you tease, finally managing to undo all the buttons.

He leans into your touch as you finish undressing him, his body now fully exposed.

"I know, but I can't help it," he mumbles, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of lust and love.

He starts to leave sloppy kisses along your neck, trailing down to your collarbone.

"Mmm, you taste so good," he moans against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Please, ride me, ride me hard," he begs again, his voice filled with desperation and need. "I want to feel you on top of me, bouncing on my cock."

His words make you shiver with excitement, your body already responding to his pleas.

"You want me to control the pace, don't you?" you say, your voice low and sultry.

He nods vigorously, his eyes darkening with desire.

"I need you to take control and use me," he says, his breath hitching as he anticipates what's to come.

You slowly strip him completely, taking your time to admire his body. He watches you with heavy lidded eyes, biting his lip as you tease him. His cock is already hard and throbbing, standing at attention for you.

"Look at what you do to me," he groans, unable to keep his eyes off of your body as you strip in front of him.

His hair is messy from running his hands through it, and his eyes are glazed over from the alcohol and arousal. He looks completely debauched and needy, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. He knows he's hot, and he knows you know it too. He smirks at your expression, loving the way you look at him with hunger.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he teases, his voice dripping with confidence.

"More than anything," you say, straddling his hips. He lets out a low growl as you settle on top of him, his hands instantly gripping your thighs.

He squeezes your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tries to keep himself from bucking up against you.

"Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you," he says through gritted teeth, his cock twitching underneath you.

As you slowly sink down onto his cock, he throws his head back and lets out a loud moan, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he gasps, his grip on your thighs tightening even more as you take him deeper.

He's practically a mess beneath you, whimpering and moaning shamelessly as you start to move up and down.

"Please, harder, faster," he begs again, his voice breaking with each plea.

He's a whining mess of pleasure, completely lost in the feeling of your body riding him. His neck is exposed, veins visible as he continues to moan and whine your name.

"You're driving me insane," he pants, his eyes squeezed shut.

He looks up at you with those big, pleading doe eyes, his hair a complete disheveled mess from being pulled and tossed around. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are parted, letting out little needy sounds every time you roll your hips. He can't take it anymore, he's so close to losing control. He tries to buck his hips up into you, but you pin him down, keeping him still.

"Please, I need to cum, please let me cum," he cries out, desperation evident in his voice.

"Beg for it more," you say with a smirk, your movements becoming slower and more teasing.

It's hard to resist when he looks and sounds like that, but you have to keep yourself in check. He lets out a frustrated groan, his body trembling with need.

"Please, I'll do anything," he says, his voice cracking. "I'll be your good boy, just let me cum, I need your permission."

His words make you shiver once again, and you can feel your own arousal growing from the sight of him being so submissive.

"Good boys get rewards," you say, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "And I think you deserve a reward for being so obedient."

His eyes light up at the promise of a reward, his hips bucking up again in excitement.

"I'll be the best good boy for you," he says, his breathing heavy as he tries to maintain his composure. "Just please, please let me have my reward."

You smile at his eagerness and decide to finally give him what he wants. You begin to ride him faster and harder, angling your hips just right to hit his sweet spot.

"That's it, you're doing so good," you praise, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

He's panting and gasping for air, his eyes rolling back again as you hit his sweet spot repeatedly.

"Oh god, right there, right there!" he cries out, his nails digging into your skin as he clings to you.

You keep up the pace, riding him mercilessly, his moans growing louder and louder.

"I'm so close," he says through clenched teeth, his body starting to tense up. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fill you up so good."

He continues to babble and slur his words as he gets closer to his release, his sentences becoming incoherent.

"So beautiful, so perfect, mine," he says between moans, his eyes glazed over with lust and love.

He cums with a loud, guttural moan, his body arching off the bed as he spills inside you. His orgasm is intense, and he continues to spill for what feels like an eternity, filling you up completely. You ride him through his orgasm, milking every last drop out of him. He collapses back onto the bed, completely spent and breathing heavily.

"That was... incredible," he manages to say, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath.

You get off of him and he lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He watches you with tired eyes as you walk away to grab the cloth, still trying to come down from his high. You turn on the faucet in the bathroom, letting the cool water run over the cloth. You wring it out slightly before returning to the bedroom, where he is now laying there with his eyes closed, a satisfied smile on his face.

You chuckle softly as you notice him passed out, a small puddle of drool forming on the pillow next to him. You gently clean him up, being careful not to wake him up. You admire his sleeping form, feeling a mix of affection and amusement at how easily he fell asleep.

338 notes · View notes

willowsnook · 7 months ago

Note

Hello hello!! Just found your blog and I’m absolutely in love with your writing. So if it’s ok I come with a bar order.. whiskey with lime in a tall glass please and thank you

thanks for the kind words :)

lando norris x bsf! reader

You are mine, end of discussion

------------------------------------------------------

"Dude I am so fucking excited for today," you said to Lando as you guys walked into the paddock. He gave you a weird look.

"I mean I'm literally starting P15 but I really appreciate your faith in me," he replied scratching his head.

"I don't care about the race," you quickly said before correcting yourself. "I mean of course I care and you'll be amazing superstar but did you hear who is in the Alpine garage today?"

He shook his head at you frowning. You were busting at the seams with excitement.

"Joe Burrow!!!" You squealed. "Pierre said he would introduce me and I might die."

Even though you had moved from the States a couple of years ago you still avidly followed American Football. Now the Bengals weren't your team necessarily but Joe Burrow...that man had aura.

"Were you that excited to meet me the first time," Lando asked pouting.

"I didn't even know who you were," you replied laughing and Lando's frown deepened.

When you met Lando you had just moved to Monaco and had spent a lot of days working out of a coffee shop next to your building. On a busier day, he had asked if he could sit with you for a second as there weren't any seats open. You'd hit it off when he noticed that you were working but also had your phone set up to watch the Masters. He invited you to go golfing with his friend Max and a couple of others and you just fit in so effortlessly to the group. You definitely had a crush on him in the beginning but nothing had ever happened so you brushed it off.

"I have to go get ready now, but I'll see you after the race," he said shortly and walked off. Confused you watched him go, you'd definitely pissed him off but you weren't sure how.

Spotting Pierre, you rushed over to him as he was heading to the garage.

"Can't believe Lando is letting you loose to meet Joe Burrow," he said as you fell into step next to him.

"I didn't realize I had to get his permission to go anywhere," you said sweetly and he threw his hands up in mock defeat.

"I just know that if Kika was this excited to meet another man, I'd have a problem."

"You do realize that Lando is not my boyfriend."

"Mmhmm," he replied giving you a wink.

The two of you walked into the garage and you were growing more nervous, especially when you caught sight of Joe talking to Esteban. He waved at Pierre, shaking his hand and then his eyes fell to you, curious.

"This is y/n, she's a good friend of ours," Pierre introduced and Joe took your hand shaking it.

"She's also Lando's personal attack dog," Esteban joked and you laughed along with Joe.

"Nice to meet you, y/n," he said smiling. "It's good to find an American here holding down the fort."

"Yeah I couldn't weasel my way into the NFL so had to settle for second best," you joked and he laughed while Pierre and Esteban protested.

"You know it is taking a lot to be civil with you right now because you broke my heart in 2019," you said seriously and he smirked.

"Let me guess, Clemson or Oklahoma?"

"Oklahoma," you admitted looking away.

"I would say I'm sorry but I'm definitely not," he said teasing. "Even if it made a pretty girl like you turn against me."

You flushed and saw Pierre shoot Esteban a look who just laughed turning away.

"Are you watching in here?" Joe asked. "I'd love some good company."

"No, I'll be in McLaren," you told him. "Lando will throw a fit if I'm not there."

"Well I'd actually love to meet him, so I'll swing by later yeah?" You nodded bidding them all goodbye and heading back to the garage.

"Is she dating him or what?" You heard Joe ask and you slowed to hear Pierre respond.

"It's complicated."

His answer confused you but you brushed it off.

The race was amazing. You were so proud watching Lando fight his way to P4 and seeing Oscar take home the win. Finding him after the win, he swept you up into a big hug.

"I'm so proud of you buddy," you said grinning. "But you stink."

He laughed promising to take a shower before you guys left.

"Hey man, great race," you heard Joe say slapping Lando's hand.

"Thanks," he said politely. He had his arm around your shoulder and you moved to get out but his grip tightened, holding you there.

"Would love to see you at a Bengals game sometime, both of you," he said and you nodded brightly.

"I think we're good," Lando replied shortly and you elbowed him hard in his side giving him a look.

"Stop being so rude," you said annoyed but Joe just laughed.

"No worries, I'd act the same way if I were him," he said cockily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked confused and he winked at you.

"He knows."

You could feel Lando steaming as you followed him into his driver's room, ready to lay into him.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" You questioned. "That was so fucking embarrassing."

"Oh I'm so sorry for ruining your chances with Joe Burrow," he said whirling on you. "I'm sure you it'll still work out though and you can start going to all his games, wear his merch, and wait for him outside the locker room."

"You are literally insane," you seethed and he laughed humorlessly stepping closer to you.

"Your place is not next to him," he said, voice rising. "It's right here in this room, next to me at every race and every day for that matter. You are mine, end of discussion."

You stood there gaping as he walked into the bathroom slamming the door. What the actual fuck? You were pissed. This whole time you had thought he hadn't felt the same way because he never said anything and it took Joe fucking Burrow to figure it out.

Ripping the door open you stormed into the bathroom, not caring about Lando being undressed in the shower. You yanked the shower door open stepping in, letting the water hit you as Lando stared at you with wide eyes. He started to say something but you cut him off, slamming your lips into his, pressing him against the wall.

He took over the kiss, moving aggressively while pulling you closer to him. You pulled back for air and he smiled softly at you.

"I love you," he said and your heart swelled.

"I love you too," you replied. "But I still want to go to a Bengals game."

He rolled his eyes, bringing you in for another kiss.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader

404 notes · View notes

subliminalghoest · 25 days ago

Text

Safe house 3

Ghoap x f!reader (read part one & two)

-the third instalment is hereeee

-Warning: Slow-burn, fluff, we getting real angsty with this part (you've been warned)

———————————————————————————

You didn't believe it—not really. But there it was in the scope. A perfect shot.

“Bloody hell,” Price said behind you, voice low with something between disbelief and pride. “That’s 1,750 metres. New team record.”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “What’s the reward, then, Lieutenant?”

All eyes flicked to Ghost. He was still looking through the spotting scope, unmoving. Like he needed to double-check that what just happened... actually happened.

It took a second before he spoke, like the words had to boot up. “…Bragging rights.”

It’s a tradition in the team that they never hand out literal awards for new records and such, only the bragging rights over the rest of the team. Nobody wanted trophies turning into reminders of those who didn't make it home.

You rose, still in quiet disbelief, and each member clasped you on the shoulder, offering their kudos—Soap practically lifting you off the floor in excitement, “Christ, I’m never hearin’ the end of it, am I?” he chortled as you helped him up.

You shoved his shoulder. Grinned. “Only fair.”

“Hell of a shot.” You blinked at Ghost quietly packing up the equipment, “You really are as impressive as your file said.”

Your cheeks heated, Simon had never really spoken to you out of choice—only ever orders or corrections during training. You were still relatively new to the team, still figuring out your place with them, and Ghost... Ghost was a fortress. But hey, the harder they are to break, the sweeter the victory.

You smirked, mock saluting. “Just getting started, Lt.”

A deep chuckle escaped him as the finished with the gear, straightening up and confirming that, yes, you still were unaccustomed to his sheer size.

“You are already solid. Don't waste your time proving yourself,” he hesitated “…and call me Simon.”

You didn't know this at the time, but you would grow to become one of the three people with the privilege of seeing the man under the mask.

Back then, it was all about bragging rights. Now... it felt ridiculous to care for something so insignificant.

This was the kind of record nobody celebrated—other than grim understanding of what it meant.

This was the longest anybody had been comms silent and came back to claim their title.

Soap was still out there.

His mission had been a solo recon assist—a quick in-and-out, they said. You and Ghost weren’t on the roster, just supposed to wait it out, keep things running here. But now it was 4 days later—no update. You weren’t on the mission, but your head replayed every worst-case scenario like you were living them anyway.

Your heart thudded heavy in your chest. You stared harder at the screen. Like maybe you could force your thoughts away if you glared long enough.

“Staring isn't gonna bring him back any faster.” Price startled you from your spot curled up in a chair in the tech room, which you had spent more time in than out of the last 4 days.

Rubbing your sore eyes you straightened yourself, “It’s my shift, Captain.”

Confusion crossed his face before he glanced above your head and saw Ghost entering the room, the same dark purple marking his eyes as yours.

“I’m not having two of my best dragging arse if we get the call.” Price pointedly looked between the both of you, “Off the clock means off. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“But we—” a sharp glare in your direction cuts off your objection. Price was your Captain, his word was the law to you, no loopholes.

You gathered the rubbish on the desk from your snacks and began to leave, noticing Ghost had left without waiting for you or uttering a single word—strange.

Sleep evaded you into the early hours of the morning, the base silent around you. Too quiet. Without Soap here it felt like your world axis had been shifted and there was a gap that wouldn't fill until he returned. He would return, he had to. Claim his record title and brag your ear off about it far into the future.

The ceiling began moving as your eyes unfocused from staring at it too hard, pressing your palm into the sockets to try and alleviate the sting.

Then—

A knock.

You sat up instantly, heart leaping into your throat. For one impossible second, you thought it might be Johnny. Back, smiling like always, grinning through dirt and blood.

“I’d like to see you last 4 days in the wilderness with no comms, fucking majestic I was—wish you could've seen it, eh?”

But the knock came again—slower. Heavier.

Not Soap.

“…Yeah?” you called, already getting up knowing who it would most likely be.

You cracked the door open, and Ghost’s hulking figure filled the space.

He lingered in the doorway, half-lit by the hallway light. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Didn’t know where else to go.”

You blinked at him. “You okay?”

He stepped inside and shut the door softly behind him. He looked more tired than usual. Heavy. Not in a physical way, but in the way he carried the silence around him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Didn’t want to sit in my head all night.”

You nodded and motioned to the bed. “Sit. I’m up anyway.”

He sat down without a word, elbows braced on his knees. You stood in front of him, waiting.

Ghost wasn’t one to spill his thoughts easily. But he looked up at you now, his voice raw in a way you rarely heard.

“I keep thinkin’ the worst,” he admitted. “Every time the comms go dark like this, I wonder if I’ve already seen him for the last time.”

Your breath caught. You hadn’t let yourself say that out loud. Not yet. But Ghost’s voice cracked something open in you. Tore off the bandage you’d put up.

“He’s smart,” you said, gently. “He’s been in tighter spots than this.”

“I know.” He paused. “Still... it’s different when it’s someone you—” He cut himself off. Looked away.

You blinked. Love, thats what he was gonna say—not in the brother in arms, die for eachtoher way. They lovedeachhother.

Still, you kept your voice soft. Steady. “That’s why you’re scared,” you said. “You love him.”

Ghost didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the floor between his boots. Then—barely audible—“Yeah.”

A silence settled over you both, you didn't know how to respond. Already too emotionally raw from the past few days to fully fill in the gaps of what this meant in your head. You didn't need to though, Ghost continued, “We’ve been together. For a while.”

A while.

Oh.

You nodded slowly, but it felt like something inside you had been suddenly carved out.

You thought the safehouse night had been the start of something. Some messy, fragile maybe. But this?

They’d already had their beginning. And maybe an entire middle, too. And you... you’d just been a brief detour.

Your stomach twisted.

You moved closer, just slightly, and let your fingers brush over his shoulder. “He’ll come back,” you murmured. “To you.”

Ghost lifted his head at that. His eyes were unreadable behind the mask, but he reached out—slowly—and caught your wrist. Gently pulled you forward until you were standing between his knees.

Then his arms went around you, and he tugged you into a hug—tight, grounding.

You stiffened for a split second, then let yourself melt into it. Even with your heart aching, you didn’t pull away.

He needed comfort. And despite everything, you wanted to give it to him.

You stayed like that for a long moment. Your cheek pressed to the top of his head, his hands curled around your waist. His breath steady against your stomach. You let your fingers run gently through his hair where his mask didn’t cover it.

The moment stretched on as you held each other, bordering on the kind of intimacy you had been working so hard to forget.

Finally, he shifted, tilting his head up. “Can I stay?”

You hesitated. Then nodded. You couldn’t resist sliding your palm against his cheek, your heart squeezing slightly when he leaned his head into your palm and smiled softly. He looked so beautiful in that moment, it almost hurt to look at him.

He peeled away with a kiss to your palm, pulled away and climbed into bed. Your bed. You joined him, keeping to the edge at first, unsure. Your back to him.

But then his hand found your hip.

He hesitated. You could feel it in the way he held his breath.

Then he gently tugged.

You let him. Took what was given.

His arm came around your waist. His body curved against your back. Cocooning you in a warmth which quieted your mind.

Peaceful.

He pressed his face into your hair, and you could feel the tremble in his chest. Like even now, even after everything, he was still coming undone.

You let yourself be held.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Just the quiet sound of breathing in the dark.

Then Ghost said, voice dry, “You remember the safehouse?”

You let out a soft sound, half-laugh. “Kinda hard to forget, Simon.”

“Hm.” He nudged your temple with his nose, “Didn’t take you for a cuddler back then.”

“I’m not,” you muttered. “That was survival. You two were warm. That’s all.”

“Right,” he said, clearly unconvinced.

You tilted your head back enough to look at him. “You started it, anyway.”

“Hmm, don’t blame me—Soap was the one practically drooling on your neck.” he added, almost fondly.

You laughed, and he chuckled low behind you. It warmed something inside you that had gone cold earlier.

But then he shifted again, and his fingers traced the curve of your neck—your breath hitched. “Don’t regret it, though. Best night sleep I’ve had in years.”

He remained there for a moment, testing your reaction to his hand tracing patterns on your neck. Cataloguing each hitch or stutter to your breath—how your legs softly shifted when he found a sensitive spot behind your ear.

He moved his hand higher, gripping your chin and tilted your head toward him slowly. Gently.

Your body shifted to face his, settling against each other just as easily as you had in that safe house.

Ghost stared at you like he was waiting for you to pull away first—like he was giving you the chance to take it back.

You didn’t.

You leaned in, just enough, and his eyes shuttered closed.

When his lips met yours, it was soft. Fragile. A question, not a demand. You answered with the same quiet need, sinking into him, one hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

He kissed you like he didn’t know if he was allowed to want this—but couldn’t stop himself anyway.

It deepened, gradually. Mouths pressing firmer, breaths quickening. His hands tightened at your waist, fingers twitching with restraint.

You could feel the rough fabric of his mask brushing your lips. A barrier stopping you from feeling him fully.

And then, without thinking, you reached up—gripped the edges—and pulled.

He stilled, just for a moment. But he didn’t stop you.

You peeled the mask off and tossed it to the side—didn’t care where it landed. You wanted him.

And he gave in.

The kiss broke for half a breath—just long enough to see his eyes, wide and searching—and then your mouths crashed together again.

No restraint now.

Your hands buried in his hair, his tongue sweeping against yours, slow and warm and desperate. He groaned into your mouth, raw and wrecked, and the sound shattered something in you, sent heat pooling in your core.

You didn’t hold back.

You let yourself get lost in it—chests pressed, bodies tangled, breath stuttering between kisses that bled together. Hands grasping at your hips pulling you further into him, feeling the need for you against your core. Twisting, his body now half on top of you as he pushed you deeper into the mattress. There was no precision. No careful rhythm. Just aching mouths and shaking hands and raw, quiet desperation.

You kissed like you were the only thing keeping each other grounded.

You kissed like it meant everything.

And maybe… maybe for a moment, it did.

But then—reality.

You felt it before you thought it. A crackle of guilt. A flash of doubt.

Reality crashed in.

You pulled back.

Not all at once. Just an inch. Then another.

Ghost chased you for a second, eyes still closed, lips parted��until he felt the absence and opened his eyes.

Hurt flickered across his face, subtle but unmistakable. His hands didn’t let go, but they loosened, unsure. Shifting back so he was no longer laid on top of you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, breathless. Touching your fingers to your swollen, sensitive lips. Feeling to make sure that had just happened, but also maybe a barrier to stop it from continuing, “I shouldn’t have…”

He shook his head, voice rough. “No. Don’t be. I shouldn’t have—”

“Let’s just not, okay?” You rested your hands against his chest, smiling softly to reassure him.

He didn’t press further. Just rested his forehead against yours.

“Okay,” he murmured.

He lay back, pulling you with him until your head rested on his chest. One arm stayed firm around you, hand rubbing slow circles against your spine.

You curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

Neither of you spoke again.

Eventually, your breathing synced.

Tonight, you were just two people lost in the quiet, holding on to what comfort and warmth you could find while your friend was gone.

The morning came slow.

Sunlight leaked in through the blinds, painting thin golden lines across the sheets. The room was quiet—still wrapped in that rare hush that only came after long, heavy nights.

You stirred first.

For a second, you didn’t know where you were. A solid wall infront of you giving you no clues as your brain struggled to wake itself up. Then you felt the weight of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his chest against your back, the steady breath brushing the back of your neck.

Ghost.

Your heart kicked up again—but not with panic, not quite. It was a soft ache. Bittersweet.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t want to.

He was still asleep. You could tell by the way his fingers twitched now and then against your stomach, relaxed in a way he rarely let himself be. His face—half buried against your shoulder—was bare still. His mask lay abandoned somewhere on the floor, like it hadn’t mattered last night. He’d let you see him when the rest of the world couldn’t.

You didn’t know what this was. What it meant. But you knew what it had felt like.

You settled further into his arms, carefully threading your fingers through his resting in your stomach, bringing his hand up to the centre of your chest. Letting yourself enjoy it. Just for a little longer. You weren’t ready for the world outside this bed. Not yet.

But reality never waited long.

Ghost’s phone buzzed.

The sound was sharp—too loud in the stillness.

You felt him jolt slightly behind you, his breath catching. Then the arm around you tightened reflexively before pulling away altogether.

You watched him move in silence.

He rolled over, reached for his phone. Pulling you with him with his other arm, tucking you in firmly against his side. A short kiss pressed into your hairline, sweet, soft, a side of Simon you hadn’t experienced before but seemed so natural to him you wondered if this is what he would be like, waking up with him every morning, the thought felt dangerous.

Screen glow lit up his face. You saw the moment it happened—the second everything changed.

The message on the screen must’ve hit him like a shot to the chest.

“Johnny’s back,” he said, voice flat. Distant.

Your heart surged. Relief swept through you fast, hard—but it was eclipsed almost instantly by the shift in him.

“That’s good,” you managed, voice low. You sat up slowly, the sheet wrapped tight around your chest. “He okay?”

He sat up fast. Swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Started grabbing his things, pulling on his boots, his hoodie, reaching for the mask. “I assume so. Just got a general update. I’ll check on him.”

He didn’t look at you.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to shake the quiet, the stillness that had turned suffocating.

“So…” you tried, a bit too casually. “You heading straight over?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

Nothing more.

“Simon—” you started.

He just kept moving like the night hadn’t happened. Like the warmth you’d shared was some illusion.

You sat up straighter, sheet clutched to your chest. “Ghost.”

That finally got a pause out of him.

Half-dressed, mask still in his hand, he stood at the foot of the bed, back still to you.

“I shouldn’t have come last night,” he said. Quiet. Measured.

You flinched like he’d hit you.

No mention of the way you’d kissed him. No acknowledgment of the way he’d held you like he might fall apart if he let go. No sign of the soft, raw version of Simon that had laid beside you in the dark.

You bit your lip. Swallowed hard.

He looked over his shoulder—just barely. His eyes were unreadable again, that wall going up inch by inch. The wall you thought he’d let you behind for a moment.

Then he turned away. Pulled the mask back on.

The man who’d kissed you like he was drowning was gone. Replaced with the Ghost the world always saw. Cold. Sharp. Untouchable.

He reached for the door and suddenly you couldn’t let him leave like this. You knew once he left you would never build the courage to ask him what this meant. Would never know.

“Wait,” you said, voice cracking. “So that’s it? We just…” You didn’t know how to finish the sentence and the weight of it hung heavy in the air.

He hesitated—hand on the doorknob. The silence stretched.

Then, finally, “I can’t.”

And he left.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.

You sat there for a long time.

The room still smelled like him. The sheets still held the imprint of his body. But he was gone. You were alone.

Your throat burned.

You dragged the blanket off, beginning to recollect yourself—get ready to face the day, whatever state Soap had been found in.

And deep down, you weren’t sure which cut deeper—the fear of finding Johnny…or the certainty you’d already lost Simon.

You let the quiet crush you.

Next part here

202 notes · View notes