#but like now I think it's not so much that. it's just that it's almost a universal way to show love

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Stargazing, at the edge of the unknown.

[cathnospam]

Bakugo wants sex, but doesn’t know how to ask

You’re fresh out the shower, too lazy to put on anything else so you throw on one of your boyfriend’s shirt that still lingered his scent you loved so much with nothing under and a bit of lotion on your arms.

Absolutely too weak to do your legs you plop on your side of your bed and sigh inching towards your Blondie that decided to spend the night in your dorm.

“Who would’ve thought a lecture would be exhausting. Ugh. Can’t wait to graduate from this damn uni.” You grumbled to yourself tracing against the scars of his biceps, smirking everytime he subconsciously flexes them.

Bakugo just grumbles, mindlessly playing on your gaming console and eyes fixated on the TV he actually wasn’t even paying attention, his mind was on auto pilot and you were the reason:

He’s horny.

All damn week he’s been trying ways to figure out how he can just….

Simply put: Fuck you.

Bakugo never actually initiated sex. You both only have done it 3 times and each time you’ve been the one to start it off. Whether he wants to admit it or not he’s a pussy when it comes to intimacy sometimes. But that doesn’t surpress his needs.

Last time you both had a moment of restless touching was a month ago and it was reasonable since you both been busy with classes and internships, but now that spring break is around the corner and your schedules have began to sync again he almost forgot how fine of a girl he had as a girlfriend.

“Can you lotion my legs oh sweet, strong and great Dynamight?”

He flinched, your words laced with honey even though you were just half joking as you threw your thigh over his bare legs, the contrast from his toned muscle thighs vs your thicker softer ones made him look down, but still not missing how your ass jiggled a little under his top.

“Whatever.” He snatched the bottle from you shaking it and rubbing it against his hands to half assly rub it on your calves.

“Uh helloooo I have a whole leg to prevent being ashy.” Wiggling your thighs against made him huff, are you doing it on purpose? Do you know how badly he wants to lay you on your back and stuff his head between your thighs right now?

His palms began to warm as they slid their way up and down , it was borderline a massage at this point and you wasn’t complaining since he did have a way with his hands.

And fingers.

You noticed his ministrations slowing down, thinking he wanted you to roll on your back to get the other leg he instead kept rubbing extremely close to the bottom of your ass.

“Y’know, you can touch it.” Catching his eye he stopped moving his hand, “You’re always free to touch me whenever….or wherever .”

He lips parted, almost like he wanted to speak, but instead pulled you closer to him to kiss the corner of your lips, it was so soft you nearly couldn’t feel him until he whispered in your ear, “….Are you sure.”

“Of course.” You nod, rubbing your hand on his arm as reassurance “my body….your choice.”

Bakugo’s eyebrows creased, confused why’d you even say that, “No it’s still your choice and rules, dumbass. You’re too trusting.”

“I’m only too trusting for you…” pecking his pouted lips you reposition yourself to allow your big Blondie to hover over you, “I trust you with my life…and my body. It’s all yours.”

Blood filled his ears and cheeks as well as his dick. Something about your trust in him drove him absolutely insane. His body moved before he could respond back latching onto your lips, adjusting his way in between your legs.

You trapped him inside earning a groan out of him when his body weight fell on top of you, “I could’ve crushed you.”

“So?” You tease. You damn tease. That fucking look in your eye gets him everytime when you get like this, wanting him almost as much as he wants you.

It didn’t take long until your laughs and jokes turned into cries and moans of his name.

It was probably one of the most intoxicating nights filled with taboo touches and loves bites everywhere. His hands captured yours when he let you on top, his eyes not tearing from yours, The way his mouth never left an inch away from your body, he actually felt way more needier than usual.

Surely everybody will question and tease you both in tomorrow’s lecture, but it was worth it.

Bakugo now had a new level of confidence when it came to asking you for sex.

[norrisainz33]

baby blue || cs55

☆ summary: carlos sainz is married to famous pop star y/n who has been connected to the f1 world for years having been a mercedes ambassador and good friends with lewis hamilton. after a video of y/n and lewis surfaces, y/n shares some big news with the spanish driver.

☆ pairing: carlos sainz x famous!wife!reader x lewis hamilton

☆ fc & warnings: rihanna! a little angsty, mentions of pregnancy, translated spanish

☆ requested: yes! thanks for this idea and for your patience. had to add in some written parts to this to tell the story! hope you enjoy xxoo

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

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ynuser: 📍 bahrain

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user1: pink is your color

dualipa: real! miss u my sweet gorgeous girl

user33: you just gonna post like we didnt see the video from the paddock

user18: no for realllll like girl be soooo for real

user1: nah nah nah you guys need to but out you know nothing!! they're just friends. we dont need to scrutinize everything they do

tatemcrae: my icon fr

user2: ynlewis supremacy

user8: seems like shes a ynlewis truther herself bsed on that video

user3: lewishamilton come get your girl

user4: more like carlossainz55 come get your girl yikes

[comments on this post have been limited]

✿

staring down at your phone you watched as the video played over and over each replay making your stomach twist a little more. you cursed yourself for not remembering where you were before having your very public breakdown in front of lewis at ferrari hospitality. what was supposed to be a quick visit to tell lewis (one of your closest friends) that red suited him and say a quick hello to alexandra had spiraled into something entirely different. one moment you were complimenting him and the next you were sobbing in his arms. of course, the media caught every second of it and in true fashion they plastered the video everywhere. the rumors started flying almost immediately with the world convinced you and lewis were more than just friends as they have been for years.

but here's how the conversation really went:

"hi lewis!! god that red is doing wonders for you right now," you smiled as you took in the sight of your best friend decked out in ferrari gear.

"thanks, y/n/n. i think so too," he grinned - his confidence and happiness clear.

"you ready to hop in that car and show everyone you’ve still got it grandpa?"

"absolutely. you know better than anyone how much i want to make this work." his voice was full of sincerity and something about the way he said it made your chest tighten and tears started welling up in your eyes.

"oh no, don't cry on me now…" he said his hand gently brushing at your cheek.

you laughed but it was shaky as the tears fully spilled down your face. "sorry, sorry… i just - i'm so excited for you, and i miss danny and checo," you rambled suddenly feeling overwhelmed. he gave you a confused look not exactly sure where all of this was coming form.

"something tells me there's more to this, y/n/n," he said his tone shifting as he took a step closer.

without thinking, you blurted it out. "i’m pregnant."

lewis froze for a split second before pulling you into a tight hug, letting you cry into his shoulder. the kind of cry that left you feeling both raw and relieved at the same time.

"hey, hey— the cameras are loving this," alexandra’s voice suddenly broke through and she frantically pushed both of you toward the ferrari hospitality area her tone full of urgency.

as she led the way you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything.... the unexpected turn your life had taken and the way the world was watching every moment unfold and it was too late to take it all back now.

✿

ynuser has posted a story

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user1: wow a rare carlos sighting on a story.. awk timing after that vid....

carlossainz55: wow posting me? surprised its not lewis.

ynuser: carlos don't start please. you know its not like that

carlossainz55: then why was it lewis holding you while you were crying and not me? and why won’t you even tell me what happened?

ynuser: i did tell you. it’s just been so overwhelming lately especially with the pressure from my label to release new music. on top of that i haven’t been feeling great which makes everything harder. you literally held my hair while i threw up all night. come on carlos please.

carlossainz55: mi amor you know I’ve had a hard time with your relationship with lewis. and now that he’s taken my seat… it just gets harder to see him in ferrari red while comforting my wife. it’s hard not to feel jealous!

ynuser: i’m really sorry carlos. i can’t even imagine how that feels. focus on your last practice session and get the data you need. we can talk properly when you’re back at the hotel ok?

carlossainz55: fine but you’ll explain everything word for word right?

ynuser: of course. now go -- i see on tv that the power’s back on

carlossainz55: yeah yeah ill go. i love you -- even when im upset

ynuser: i love you too. always

user33: damage control?

alexandrasaintmleux: love you pretty girl. please let me know if you need anything both charlie and i are here for you too

ynuser: i love you more alex 🤍 thank you for always supporting me. oh and for noticing the cameras before they got too much

alexandrasaintmleux: thats what friends are for. please please please keep me updated

user10: i just know everyone's tearing u up in these replies so im here to say i love and support you bb

lewishamilton: did you tell him yet?

ynuser: considering you’re both at the same testing... no I haven’t

lewishamilton: oh don't give me that. you could have told him last night!!

ynuser: yeah well i was scared!!

lewishamilton: sweetheart, the faster you rip off the bandaid the faster he (and everyone else) stops getting the complete wrong idea

ynuser: i know i know i know!!!!!! easier said than done here lewis.

lewishamilton: he tried to approach me this morning and i was able to avoid it but if he comes to me and starts asking what is up... i'm not going to lie

ynuser: alright message received. him and i agreed to talk everything out tonight.

lewishamilton: good.

user11: idc abt this man release new music pls im begging its been ages

schecoperez: mi amiga what in the world is going on?

ynuser: too much honestly... i'll call you bc BOY do i have a lot to share and ALSO i miss you SO MUCH

schecoperez: will be impatiently waiting :)

user44: tbh idc abt f1.. id rather see pics of u. free my queen from this nonsense sport!!!!

✿

you flopped back onto the giant hotel bed letting out a big sigh. alex and lily had just left after giving you the pep talk of a lifetime and dropping off the cake. if it wasn't for them and all the effort they’d put into running around bahrain to find someone who could make you this cake, you probably would’ve chickened out of telling carlos altogether. it wasn’t something either of you had planned for yet. you’d only gotten married a few months ago and between carlos switching to a new team and the insane pressure your label had been piling on you, it felt like the wrong time to be having a baby. hence, your breakdown in the paddock with lewis. but like alex and lily said everything happens for a reason and maybe this was just the moment it was meant to happen, no matter how daunting it all felt.

you quickly sat up when you heard carlos fumbling with the door to the hotel room and immediately, tears started to well up. you tried to hold them back but they came rushing down as soon as carlos stepped through the door. his brow furrowed when he saw you crying on the bed.

"mi amor..." he sighed setting his things down on the couch and shrugging off his williams jacket. "what’s going on with you?" he asked gently kneeling in front of you and placing his hands on your bare knees.

you were fully sobbing now desperately wiping away the tears as he watched you in silence. "i just... i..." you tried to speak but the words got tangled up in your sobs making it harder to get them out.

"cariño take a deep breath," he said softly taking your hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze. you obeyed and took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. which wasn’t easy these days with all the changes your body was going through. eventually you shook your head not being able to calm yourself enough and pointed toward the box on the table hoping he would understand. carlos’ eyes followed your finger and he stood up walking over to the table. "y/n, what is...?" he stopped mid-sentence struck silent as he stared down at the contents of the box—a small cake with 'we’re having a baby' written on it and a pregnancy test sitting next to it.

you kept focusing on your breathing summoning the courage to look at your husband who stood completely still. in the endless seconds it took for him to react - guilt, panic, and despair began to settle in. "i’m sorry, carlos, i know this is a horrible time. i should’ve told you earlier, we should’ve talked about this first, and i just—i’m sorry this—"

"stop, y/n," he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. you couldn’t tell if the tears in his eyes were good or bad. but then in the blink of an eye, his face softened and his expression lightened up. "don’t apologize for this, my love." he picked up the test and glanced back at you. "this is real?"

"yes," you whispered.

he dropped the test moving swiftly toward you and pulling you into a tight embrace. "we’re going to have a baby chili," he mumbled into your neck holding you like he never wanted to let go. and with that all of your worries melted away.

✿

ynuser has posted to their private story

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lando: what u posting close ups of food for

ynuser: you’ll find out when you’re older

lando: tf that supposed to mean

ynuser: means you can’t keep a secret to save your life

lando: a man accidentally includes a photo from a wedding in 1!!!! photo dump and he can’t ever come back from it

ynuser: exactly

lando: 🤨

lilymhe: THE CAKE HAS BEEN EATEN???

ynuser: it has!!!!!! and everything is ok

lilymhe: i’m so relieved

carlossainz55: the best cake i’ve ever had 🤍

ynuser: i'm really quite glad you think so

carlossainz55: of course gorgeous. i am so excited that we get to be parents

ynuser: i'm so happy that you're happy

carlossainz55: over the moon actually. i already called the florist and local bakery near casa de mi familia to get everything sorted for when we tell them in a couple weeks. i also sent you room service and some special deliveries so if you hear a loud knock on the door this morning, just know its from me

ynuser: carlos 😭😭😭😭

carlossainz55: i also may or may not have already slipped and told teto..........

ynuser: I THOUGHT WE WERE TELLING HIM AND GIGI AT DINNER ONCE YOU OFFICIALLY FINISHED TESTNG

carlosainz55: ....... i mean that was the plan originally but we were cycling this morning and he could tell something was up and well i couldnt lie!! i swore him to secrecy it is ok

ynuser: i'm making my lawyers send him an nda

carlossainz55: LOL

ynuser: i'm serious

carlossainz55: oh... well in that case… whatever makes you feel best my love!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: details mon ange

ynuser: he finally got back after testing and i completely broke down into tears bc of course i did—im a mess with these hormones. he immediately was worried ofc and was like “mi amor, what’s wrong?” but I couldn’t even stop crying long enough to explain. so i just pointed at the cake box instead and then be opened it, stared at it for what felt like an eternity… honestly, it was probably 8 million years and then HE started crying. which just made me cry even more. but honestly after we got everything out it felt like really good. he was beyond excited like already talking about the little one and brainstorming names and looking up where to buy baby clothes in spain and already planning how to tell his family and mine

alexandrasaintmleux: 🥹😭 see!! it was all ok!!! i’m so so so glad he was excited. i knew he would be!! he wanted so badly to be dad

lewishamilton: so?

ynuser: i told him

lewishamilton: thank god!! now i can assume uncle duties without getting my face bashed in

ynuser: you’re so dramatic

yourbff: i’m so happy for you guys 😭

ynuser: thank you sweetheart 😘

dualipa: assuming i’m missing context here

ynuser: i’ll face time you baby girl

carlossainz55 has posted to his story

[sharing the joy with our family ☀️💙]

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anasainzvdec: mi hermano i am so excited for you. i can't wait to be an auntie 🤍

carlossainz55: i love you ana! you will be the world's best aunt

user2: PINON!!!!!!

carlossainzoficial: ¡tal vez la mayor alegría que hayas podido compartir con nosotros! [perhaps the greatest joy you could have shared with us!]

carlossainz55: me alegro. no puedo esperar a que seas abuelo, papá. [i am glad. i can't wait for you to be a grandfather, dad]

carlossainzoficial: estoy muy orgulloso del hombre en el que te has convertido y de la vida que has construido con y/n. [i'm so proud of the man you have become and the life you have built with y/n]

carlossainz55: ¡no me hagas llorar papá! [don't make me cry dad]

user4: sharing joy??? with your family..... what does this mean?

lando: google translating this as we speak

lando: and what joy are you sharing and why are you not also sharing it with me?

carlossainz55: i will be on sunday muppet. you are coming to dinner at my house no?

lando: oh heck yeah ill be there

user18: what an interesting wording you have here mr.sainz - what are you talking about?

ynuser: petition to bring pinon with us everywhere

carlossainz55: jajaaj i don't know that she would like that

ynuser: 😭😭😭😭😭 fair ig. tho i think a baby and a puppy would be a perfect pair......

user55: the world is healing youre back with pinon

alexandrasaintmleux: EEEEEEK!!!!!! y/n filled me in on how it went. truly so excited for you. i can't wait for the big dinner party where you're telling all of us 🤍

carlossainz55: i am very much looking forward to this weekend. we'll see you soon mi amiga

carlossainz55 has made a post

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carlossainz55: spent the weekend celebrating the news with some of my favorite people. you are so loved already baby chili. you're mommy, daddy and loads of aunties and uncles can't wait to meet you so very soon 💙🌶️

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user55: crying my eyes out rn you have no idea

ynuser: thankful for you, our baby boy, and the amazing people we have supporting us 🤍

carlossainz55: even more thankful for you for giving me the greatest gift i could have ever asked for my beautiful wife

user85: may a love like this find me expeditiously

user1: well…. a baby wasn’t on my bingo card

lando: dibs on teaching baby chili how to drive

charlesleclerc: i already called dibs

georgerussell63: no i believe i did

carlossainz55: frankly, i dont trust any of you to teach him

charlesleclerc: WOW

user4: congratulations 😭 i'm seething with jealousy 😭

alex_albon: can't wait to be the favorite uncle

lilymhe: with me as the favorite aunt

alexandrasaintmleux: um hello? i'm going to be the favorite aunt

lando: FALSE I AM THE FAVORITE AUNT

ynuser: guys please lets not fight

user23: carlando having their own pic at the end is sending me. classic carlando behavior

user13: man this vroom vroom got my girl and now they’re having a baby? smh

lewishamilton: congratulations you two! overjoyed to see two of my favorite people becoming parents ❤️

carlossainz55: thank you 💙

user88: tea

user56: so many of the drivers being at their baby shower has me in genuine shambles im not ok this grid baby is going to be so loved

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: phew this took me forever... hope you enjoy!! likes and reblogs appreciated as always ❤️‍🔥

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[bdbueckers]

handle it | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, alcohol consumption, slight jealousy, some name calling, dom!paige, sub!reader, fingering, very minimal degration, pussy slapping, paige makes reader choke on her fingers a little, i think that's everything...LOL but as always lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3k (pwp...duh)

summary: a "misunderstanding" leads the brattiest version of the reader to give paige a hard time. but not to worry, she'll take care of it.

authors note: helloooo <3 i keep abandoning you guys...oops! accept this as an apology and then prepare for me to disappear again until i can come up with some more ideas of what to write. the ending was definitely a little rushed but we'll get over it, RIGHT?!

as always feedback is appreciated and also requests are open!

enjoy! x

the club is loud and the pit of your stomach is hot.

a reminder of the two tequila shots you had just thrown back like they were nothing.

you raise your head to scan over the bodies near the other end of the bar and you spot her with no trouble. towering over most of the other women in the club, her head was shaking back and forth in response to whatever she had just been asked. 

by a woman you had never seen before in your life.

the mystery woman reaches her hand out to place it on paige’s arm, very notably squeezing her bicep before giving her a shove. it looked playful enough. but once again you had no idea who she was.

you ignore the discomfort that you momentarily feel and decide to walk right by them both, a slight sway in your hips that is guaranteed to get your girlfriend’s attention.

paige almost breaks her neck watching you walk until you disappear behind her, her eyes drawn to your lower half just like you’d expected. 

quickly telling her friend goodbye she turns to face you completely, watching you order another drink from the bartender. 

you pucker your lips subconsciously and she watches you mouth “thank you”. taking note of how plump your bottom lip is when it’s separated from the top, she’s licking her own without even realizing.

she manages to sneak up directly beside you before you can notice, placing her card down in front of you and wrapping an arm around you to firmly grip at your waist.

“who was that?” you ask, trying your best to hold off on how sharp it sounded, failing miserably, and wrapping your lips around the straw in your drink that she had just paid for.

“a friend from school, it’s been a few years since i’ve seen her so we were catching up.”

“oh. i’ve never seen her before.” you respond, turning to face her completely and pulling your hip away from her grip so that her hand falls from you and back to her side.

“are you…jealous?” paige asks, raising her eyebrow as a smirk paints her lips.

“jealous? no. should i be?” it’s your turn to raise your eyebrow and tilt your head in fake confusion.

she’s still grinning, clearly not realizing that you were serious.

you roll your eyes before chugging the rest of your drink and walking away from paige before she could respond. 

everything else aside, you were now 3 drinks in and eager to dance.

you anticipate paige following behind you, though intentionally paying her no mind.

the dance floor is packed, bodies on bodies and the music starts vibrating your entire chest. the alcohol is hitting you faster than you thought it would but you feel good and the liquid courage gives you an extra edge to move freely. 

for a few minutes you’re dancing to whatever is playing. paige is right behind you, her front pressed to your back and her hands very low on your hips. 

although you’re dancing together you’ve been pretty much ignoring her and you can tell it’s starting to frustrate her when you feel lips right next to your ear.

“baby, are you seriously mad? i promise you that she’s just an old friend, nothing less and nothing more.”

you tilt your head to the side and turn your neck so that she can see you shake your head no in response.

of course you believed her, she gave you no particular reason to think otherwise.

but it was definitely a sight to see someone else with all of her attention. 

sure, you may have been a little jealous. bitter. but anybody would. 

if paige left you for two seconds and returned to see you in the position she had been in with another woman she’d have a fucking heart attack.

so you were gonna milk this a bit.

turning to face her, you smirk when you feel her hands immediately travel to your ass. reaching down to cover her hands with your own, you crane your neck to look her in the eyes the best you can with the chaotic lights in the club.

“you do realize that this is how close she was standing to you right?” you ask, laughing a little at the end to punctuate your sentence.

“i swear i didn’t even notice, the moment you were in my line of sight i was looking at you.” she responds, having to yell a bit to be heard over the music.

“what did she say to you? i saw you shaking your head no.” 

“she was actually trying to hit on you.” 

your eyes go wide momentarily, then you furrow your eyebrows in question.

paige continues, “she asked me if you were single.”

“you’re bluffing.” you shake your head, laughing in disbelief. 

“nah, i’m serious. she said a bunch about how pretty you were. that i’m always posting about some other ‘faceless’ girl so she knew i wasn’t interested. so i told her no, you’re not single and that she needs to learn to mind her business.” 

“and do you think she put two and two together?” you ask, realizing that you had just misinterpreted the entire situation.

“i would hope so, seeing as i practically had to tell her to go away when you walked over. she was staring right at you.”

you had no recollection of the girl eyeing you, you were focused on paige. but it all made sense.

“i mean, can you blame her? look at you baby.” she finishes, gesturing towards your frame with a tilt of her chin.

“hmm, blame her? for having a little crush on me, no. but she was still standing too close.” you reply, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling when you watch how paige’s cheeks rise. 

now she’s the one giggling.

“jealous…” she drags out, delivering a light smack to your ass.

“ugh, whatever.” you groan, throwing your head back in defeat.

“i should be the one with an attitude right now, i didn’t do anything!” paige mutters in your ear, placing a kiss there when she finishes but not pulling back all the way.

“paige, i don’t have an attitude.” your tone wasn’t helping you plead your case. neither does the way you smacked your lips before even getting that sentence out.

“don’t worry, i’ll handle you later so stop huffin’ and puffin’.”

she says it too casually.

her voice is low, it sounds lighthearted and almost as if you weren’t supposed to fully hear what she said. she even chuckles into your ear before starting to sway with you again to the tempo of the music. 

but you can’t help but ponder for a moment what she meant by handle you.

the thought slips to the back of your mind and you’re once again glued to the girl in front of you, enjoying the way the bass travels through the entirety of the club and vibrates your chest.

after several more songs you’re sweaty and your throat is raw from yelling over the music. grabbing paige’s hand you start to make your way outside.

she holds you extremely close the entire time, clearly trying to prove a point.

you guys decide to head home and the walk back is a complete contrast from where you’d just left. there’s a slight breeze, it feels heavenly on your skin that’s now sticky and flushed. there’s a slight hum of noise from the occasional car or other people walking by. but overall it’s refreshing and peaceful enough.

you’re lost in thought when paige stops your stride abruptly, grabbing you by the wrist and turning you to face her completely. before you can register what’s happening her lips are on yours.

you can’t hold back the low moan that comes from the back of your throat. your body melts into hers, the suddenness of the kiss has you feeling hot from head to toe. 

when you pull back you look up at her, already eager to say something even though you had no idea what it was that you wanted to say. 

regardless you don’t get the chance.

when you open your mouth to speak you’re cut off by her lips against yours again, this time rougher. when your tongue meets hers you unintentionally squeeze your thighs together, pulling her body closer by the belt loops on her pants.

you both pull away and you can’t help the way you a lean in for more. 

paige shakes her head, a smug look on her face. then she’s reaching for your hand and basically dragging you the rest of the way home.

it’s a task to unlock your front door. paige being right behind you is distracting enough but the way that she can’t stop grabbing at you and kissing your neck has you fumbling with your house key.

when you’re finally inside you lock the door behind you before dropping your belongings and turning to face your girlfriend.

she’s already looking at you. her eyes are red and they’re low. her lips are wet from how she’d just licked them.

you close the distance between your bodies, reaching up to clasp your hands behind her head.

“i want you so bad right now.” you utter, your voice is hoarse and barely above a whisper but it sounds desperate.

“yeah?” paige responds, voice a little whiny and lip jutted out to mimic you.

bending down slightly she places her hands on your thighs and you immediately jump, wrapping your legs around her waist. 

you don’t miss the way that her arms flex when she catches you in them.

“you were being such a brat, whining about other girls talking to me and now look at you.” she teases, carrying you to your shared bedroom and stopping at the foot of the bed with you still in her arms.

when she puts you down on the bed she doesn’t quite throw you, but your head does bounce a little when it makes contact with the mattress.

“i wasn’t whining or being a brat.” you basically whisper, dodging her eye contact.

paige straddles your waist, reaching for your chin and turning your face until you’re looking her in the eyes again.

“you were, but that’s okay. i got sumn for that.” 

quickly her head is right next to yours as she starts peppering wet kisses on any part of you that she can reach. her hands slide underneath your top and stay there when she feels goosebumps beneath her fingertips. 

you can feel her smirk against your neck momentarily before she starts to suck the spot right beneath your ear. you shudder and place your hand on her hip just wanting to touch more of her. for her body to be as close to yours as possible.

she pulls her head away from your neck and you don’t even get the chance to look at her before she’s leaning in to kiss you.

the two of you part just for her to take your shirt off and then you’re back to it, now both of your hands are on her hips and you’re kissing her back like she would disappear into thin air if you stopped.

she continues to kiss down your body, until her lips hit the waistband of your pants. unbuckling them with more haste than you expected she pulls them off of you, her lips ghosting over each bit of skin that they revealed.

when she’s right above where you want to feel her the most she stops, looking up at you.

you’ve got yourself propped up on your forearms and your eyes are low. lips puffy and wet from the kissing and how hard you’d been biting them in anticipation of her doing something. 

she attempts to hold in a groan, failing when she puts her lips back on your skin. 

placing one last kiss on the inside of your knee you catch her eyes flickering over your cunt. 

you feel like a whore, spread out, panting like you’d just finished a marathon. she had barely touched you.

you love it.

“i would ask just how badly you want this, but i can see  it.” paige teases, her eyes again focused on the way your white panties now cling to your cunt. a wet patch decorating the front of them and now they appear translucent.

“p-please?” you whimper, letting out a sharp puff of air.

“please? please what?” paige coos, tracing your puffy clit with a light finger and striking the same spot with a heavy hand this time. she smirks when you gasp and flinch at the contact, your stomach proof of how your breath hitched.

“do something! anything! your fingers, your mouth, both, i don’t care! i just want you to fuck me.” you whine, clutching the sheets that are at your side.

“if that’s what you want, you better take it.”

you nod without thinking and swallow hard, throat dry. you don’t even realize how she slips her fingers into the waistband of your panties. 

you feel her immediately thrust two of her lengthy digits inside of you.

when you open your mouth to moan a mixture of a yelp and a whine escapes.

“fuck, are you–, paige!” you try to put together something that makes sense but the words won’t stay on your tongue for long enough.

each time paige pushes her fingers back into your gaping core you grip onto her other arm tighter. 

the squelching of your cunt and the high pitched moaning and pleading are the only sounds meeting your ears. 

your moans are cut abruptly when you feel paige pull her fingers from you. you open your eyes and lift your head immediately to complain.

“w-wait why did you stop?” before you could say anything else the same two fingers that were just inside you are shoved between your lips. 

your eyes roll back into your head and you gag a little from how far into your mouth paige was pressing her fingers, you moan at both the aggression of the gesture and the taste of yourself.

“look at you. talking all that shit earlier and for what? just so i could shut you up?” paige is leaning closer towards your face with each word.

when the only thing separating the two of you is her fingers in your mouth she laughs a little.

she uses her free hand to spread your legs even wider as one of her knees immediately comes in contact with your puffy and throbbing clit. 

you moan around her fingers, tilting your head back out of habit. 

the girl above you isn’t going for it, pressing down on your tongue, the motion causing your chin to meet your chest.

“you’re such a slut. you just want all of my attention all the time. now that you’ve got it, all you can do is whine? pathetic.”

you don’t bother trying to respond, it all seemed rhetorical enough. 

“you knew i wasn’t interested in that girl and you decided to be a brat about it instead of hearing me out. what do you have to say for yourself, baby?”

when you’re silent for too long paige emphasizes her question with another press of her knee against your cunt.

you almost choke around her fingers, spit collecting around them now and sliding down your chin a bit.

“ ‘m sorry, p.” you manage to sound. it was muffled by her fingers but an attempt nonetheless.

“i can’t hear you.”

“i’m sorry, baby!” you swallow around her fingers, looking her directly in the eyes now. “i’m so sorry, i was being unfair.”

paige lets out a satisfied hum, nodding her head and cracking a slight smile.

“good. now watch me.”

yanking her fingers from your mouth with a pop the same hand travels back between your legs and into your panties.

when her index and middle finger make contact with your clit you feel tears well in your eyes. 

all of the teasing was excessive, but it hurt so good when she finally did touch you. 

you’re already struggling to keep your eyes open, then you feel the pads of her fingers circling your hole. 

she lifts her head from watching her hand that’s between your legs to look at you, making sure you could see what she was seeing.

she watches your face contort when her fingers push into you, slowly this time.

you throw your head to the side with a groan and your eyelids flutter, paige can’t help but feel satisfied by the fucked out look on your face.

“shit baby, this pussy is made for me. taking my fingers like such a good girl. always a good girl for me, right?”

not knowing if she wanted you to answer or not you frantically nod your head, scared that she would stop again.

using her free hand paige forces your legs apart when you try to shut them. she flexes her wrist and starts to pump her fingers into you faster. 

the sounds being produced by her fingers and how wet you’d gotten were crude.

“whose pussy is this?” paige pants, almost unintelligible. it’s clear in her tone that she expects you to answer. 

you have to pry your eyes open to look down at her and you’re struggling to catch your breath.

“it's yours baby, only y-yours you know that!” you spit out, stuttering as she increases the speed of her fingers inside you. when she curls them upwards you choke again on whatever noise you were attempting to let out.

“yeah, i do know. but i’m just making sure you don’t forget.”

her fingers are plowing into you now as you reach down towards her wrist, only for your hand to immediately be smacked away. your eyes roll back into your head at the sting and you know you have no choice but to take it. 

just like she had told you.

“p, fuck!” you’re so close to finishing, and you know she can feel it.

“yeah? give it to me, cmon.”

when her thumb meets your clit your breathing becomes sporadic and you’re whining uncontrollably. how fitting.

you’re arched towards the ceiling and your limbs go rigid when you finally cum. your body is on fire and you can feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck with sweat for the umpteenth time tonight.

paige doesn’t stop pumping her fingers into you until you’re crying out and physically trying to crawl up the bed and away from her.

your cunt clenches around nothing, your cum falling from you and onto the bed.

paige’s eyes are glued to the wet spot forming beneath you. it’s dirty and you’re tempted to close your legs but you know better. plus you’re enjoying it just as much as she is.

her lips part for a split second before she lets out a whistle.

your head falls onto the pillow under you. it’s partially in shame and partially from how satisfied you were by everything that had just happened.

while you try to control the speed that your chest is rising and falling she’s right there with you. cooing into your ear; a plethora of i love you’s, how pretty you are, and how well you did for her.

she gingerly kisses your sweaty forehead and leaves for a second, returning with a towel to wipe between your legs.

you hiss when you feel her cleaning you up and you don’t miss how smug she looks when you swat her lingering hands away and turn over.

she lays beside you and for a few minutes your body is glued to hers while she rubs up and down your back.

nothing is said between the two of you, it's comfortable.

that’s until you feel like you can hear the way paige smiles to herself before she breaks the silence.

“you still mad?”

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) MDNI - flashbacks of their past rivalry, Satoru being silly but sweet, reader getting insecure, both are emotional, mentions of pregnancy/body changes, explicit sex, oral (f recieiving) cervix kisses, squirting, mirror sex, talking you through it, LOTS of humor- WC- this chap- 8.4k - art in the banner by Yuana on X

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3 (extras here and here)

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Four (soon)>>>

Chapter Three

A month later- four months along

You really hope Satoru makes it in time, he’s texted you plenty and sent you many silly selfies - fuck the two of you had phone sex - you blush as you remember just what kind of picture was sent after that. He’s called every single night to speak to you, to the point the two of you are learning more and more about each other, yes he’s kind of an idiot, but he’s also kind of brilliant.

Conceited and cocky, yet slightly insecure about things and vulnerable, terrified of having a baby but excited, the duality of Satoru Gojo was never anything like what you knew him as for the past five years. You remember hating his attitude, his advances, remembering how ‘easy’ things were for him, but the more you all talk, the more that changes.

You’re not mad he went on his trip, everything would change for him, why not let him have fun, but you find yourself… lonely. You don’t know what that sex meant to him, but it was almost as if… maybe you could see that future? Maybe you could see something coming of it.

Are you way off?

You’ve seen the numerous pictures of Satoru and his friends all over every bit of instagram, girls in their bikinis surrounding the group, you never see Satoru not around someone, though he keeps the distance, his arm is usually around Suguru’s shoulders. He looks so happy, so carefree you muse, feeling the complete opposite of just how you feel - exhausted.

You’re already more than ‘poochy’ though many people still haven’t assumed you’re pregnant, flowy empire waisted dresses have curbed anyone assuming so, which is ideal considering you just started getting on camera. Last week was the start of your new segment, where you go over the current news, it’s for celebrities for now, but you hope one day to get to the heavy hitting things.

“And with that, I send it back to you.” You finish your segment with a smile at the camera, the director shouts - cut! - and everyone starts clearing up, getting ready for the next person on the floor.

You blink a bit, bright lights shooting in your face are still overwhelming, when the director comes up to you, smiling, his eyes roving just a little too much on your body. “You did great.”

“Oh thank you!”

“You look great, too.” The female director steps up, snidely scowling down at your body now, making you tense.

“But remember the camera adds ten pounds, maybe a salad for lunch instead of those hot cheetos?” You feel your cheeks heat up furiously, as the crew watches curiously at you.

You’ve gained five pounds this month and it’s all in your tummy and tits. “No, I think you look great, don’t worry.” He says again, but the snobby woman rolls her eyes at him.

“Just looking out for you. Maybe we could be… friends?” She suggests, making you blink in shock and embarrassment.

You want to tell them you’re pregnant but you’re too terrified- it’s too new, so not just yet, you’re so worried they’ll take this away after working so hard… you’d eventually have to tell them, when you can’t hide it anymore, but for now, you’ll pretend you’ve just eaten a lot of hot cheetos.

“No, that’s true I will remember the camera adding ten pounds. Thanks for looking out.” You manage, this was Hollywood and this was the norm, you expected just about this much anyway, ten extra pounds is a lot for the position.

God how big would you get!?

You’re frowning then, when you recall the conversation, and see it.

A stretch mark.

“Fuck… shit. Already!?” You’re panicking, how do you get one four months in!? You look like you have a food baby, surely, it’s not even that big yet and there it is, clear as fucking day.

You hear the doorbell ring then, sliding your shirt down to hide the evidence of it, how much cocoa butter did you need!? You basically bathe in the shit every fucking day- and now this already. You expected some later on perhaps, when you were bigger. Frustrated and upset, you open the door to see Satoru’s face, just a little sunburnt, and his eyes are bloodshot red even as he grins.

“Hey sweets. Miss me?”

Yes.

“Maybe.” You murmur, glaring just a bit while Satoru struggles to focus, head hammering then.

“Can I get some water, ibuprofen, some eggs-” He blinks you into focus now, seeing tears in your eyes, hitting him over the head like a freezing cold bucket of water suddenly. “Shit, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… just…” You can’t take it then, you’re sobbing, as he fumbles, trying to pat your back, pulling you against him just a bit.

“Missed me that badly?” You take a shaky breath, swiping at your tears now.

“I’m getting…” You pull back, and in one month your tummy has rounded some, a gentle curve, your tits are swollen already, begging for his mouth. Satoru can’t take just how gorgeous you are then, exhaling, hands on your hips.

“Getting sexy?” He asks softly, and you shake your head.

“You’re fucked up, that’s why you think it.”

“What now?” He glares, sobering up with every moment you’re acting like such a brat. “What funhouse mirror are you checking? Are they being mean at work or some shit!?”

“They mentioned I should stop eating hot cheetos. But… they don’t know I’m pregnant so.” Satoru frowns then, brushing his hand across your hip now, thumb pressing little circles, making your breath catch with the intimacy.

“You didn’t tell them?”

“I’m too scared to lose the job…”

“But you can’t hide it forever.”

“I know.”

“Is that why you’re crying?” His surprisingly sharp gaze flickers when you shake your head. “Why are you?”

“I have a stretch mark already.” He frowns when you lift up your shirt, showing him it, a mark that glints under the lights. “I’m eating too many fucking hot cheetos, they’re right, ugh!”

He laughs then, thumb brushing the mark, seeing goosebumps raise as he does so, before getting on his knees, making you gasp. “This right here?” He asks softly, eyeing you under his snowy lashes, your hands come to rest on his shoulders, nodding a bit.

“Y-yes, already Satoru. And I’m meticulous about this stupid cocoa butter.” You’re exhaling as he kisses the mark, lips against your skin, your tummy flutters with desire, fuck you had missed him.

“It’s sexy.” His whisper sends shivers across your body, you almost whine out how good it feels.

“It’s so not.”

“I like it. Stop being mean to yourself, what will the baby think if they hear this all the time, hmm?” He presses another kiss on your tummy, touching your heart then, right above your belly button, as his hands warmly palm your hips. “If you’re mean to yourself the baby will get upset.”

“How does it know?” You’re sniffling now.

“Babies know their surroundings, you don’t want to stress them, hmm?”

“You… read up on it?” He smiles a bit, nodding, your earlier response of being so irritated at him is fading, you find yourself stroking his hair, as he rests his forehead on your tummy. “You’re right. You’re right.”

“I love to hear that, where was this all of college, hmm?”

“I bet you do.” You pull him up now, seeing him sway just a bit, sighing. You want to tell him he shouldn’t show up fucked up, but the sweetness of the moment speaks louder than his immaturity. “Let’s get you some food before we go.”

“I think I love you.”

After you’ve made Satoru an enormous omelette, which he devours with fervor in your little kitchen as you sip on a decaf- that’s depressing isn’t it? - something almost feels… natural about it. About the sunlight filtering through those blinds, lighting the two of you up, little dustmotes floating through the beams of light, flashing just so on his pretty face.

Satoru leans back, grinning and rubbing his tummy. “I’ll have a food baby, we could match you know.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and sipping the hot liquid. “I can’t see you matching this, I feel like a whale.”

“You’re not at all.” He frowns now, eyeing you slowly. “You look so good I’d like to put you on this table and eat you.”

You blink at his bold words, igniting something insane inside you, color dancing on your cheeks as your thighs shift, earning his smirk. “You’re so crazy.”

“You want it. Well, c’mere then.” He shoves his plate out of the way, tapping the table as you can’t help but giggle. “Think I’m kidding? Think I don’t want you spread for me?”

“Jesus Satoru…” You take a step now, then another, setting down the coffee on the counter. “Did you miss me so bad?”

Yes, he did.

He wants your taste to soak into him again.

He smiles though, hands on your hips when you finally stand right between his spread thighs, just inhaling you. “God you smell so sweet.”

“Mnh…” Just a kiss and a tug over your shorts has you weak, your fingers brushing through his silky locks, when your phone starts blaring the alarm. “Oh shit… the ultrasound.”

“Mmm, can we be late?” He raises a brow and you feel so sexy then, it’s like all your worries fade for just a moment.

“No, but…” You kiss him quickly, disentangling yourself now. “Thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for wanting to have two meals for breakfast. What do they call that, nerd, hmm?” Your lips twitch as he stands, so tall his hair is just a couple inches from your ceiling, you feel so small then, your heart thrumming in your chest as the two of you stand in your homey little kitchen.

You shouldn’t feel so much, think so much, he’s being sweet and supportive but… your heart and mind are racing places they should not. Thinking you’d love to just have him here, how funny a man who you used to ‘hate’ has become so precious in a month to you, even his phone calls and texts were more comforting than either of you are willing to admit.

“Second breakfast.” You answer, he chuckles just a bit, tilting your chin up then, sighing.

“You’re prettier.”

“No…”

“Why would I lie? I’m not nice am I?” His brow raises, and you bite your lower lip then. “Remember when I hung all your panties all over and everyone took pictures?”

“Oh jesus, yes. You were so mad I beat your ass at beer pong.” You shove at him now, glaring and looking far too fucking cute as he grins.

“You lost at the drink off. And you shouldn’t have had so many panties.”

Oh yeah.

You almost forgot.

Gojo was a little fratboy ASS.

******

Two years ago

You throw your arms up, cheering along with everyone as you land that last bouncy white pong ball right inside Satoru Gojo’s last red solo cup, essentially tearing down the ‘king of beer pong’. A man that had never lost, just lost to a girl who never played, and the horror on his face, his parted glossy lips and wide blue eyes, were so amusing you couldn’t stand it.

Good.

“I want a rematch!” He demands, in the middle of a toga party, everyone dressed in wrapped sheets with gold glitter on their skin, the loud music reverberating as you cross your arms, grinning. “Damn demon.”

“Demon? No.” You giggle though, demonically he swears, batting your pretty lashes up at him. “Just bested you and you’re salty.”

“Me!? No, beginner’s luck, fuck that.” You’re deviously laughing again, when Satoru smirks. “Fine, a drink off.”

“A drink off!?”

“Yep, the loser gets to embarrass the other, they have to deal with whatever the winner wants. Agree?” He raises a thin white brow, as you eye him, he’s slender sure but he’s six foot four, he clearly could handle more than you. “Whoever can not puke, and still walk a straight line, wins.”

“Bet, I will own your ass.” Your girls, especially Shoko and Utahime giggle, cheering you on, as Suguru and Sukuna smirk at each other, high fiving, and soon an entire party is damn near silent, watching you two.

“Feeling weak, sweets?” Satoru taunts, slamming back a shot then, and you’re already fucking tipsy, three in, but you damn sure won’t show it, even as the liquor warms your entire body.

“Hah, no, m’feeling great.” You down yours, a droplet falling across your chin then, he touches you with a thumb before he can stop himself, making you both pause, and whispers amongst the party goers. Shit even the music is softer, as everyone watches the two rivals of their college go at it.

Satoru Satoru Satoru.

There’s a quiet chant of his name, and he downs another, throwing his arms up like the annoying frat boy he is, chiseled muscles glinting under the strobing leds ahead, you try to ignore how it makes you feel. You try to pretend the losers you’ve fucked with could compete with how badly you truly want Satoru, but you’d die before you ever told him the truth.

And as Satoru sits back down, and your girls chant your name, he can’t stop but look at just how beautiful your skin looks glinting with glitter under these lights, how you look like a fucking goddess in your tied up sheet. So gorgeous for a moment he forgets just where he is, who he is, tired of acting like any girl that joins his bed tonight could touch your beauty.

Not that he’d tell you, he’d die before he did, looking at your petulant little scowl, your haughty raised brow, as you cross your arms and tap your foot, he hates that he notices your pedicure. He hate that he loves the pretty white glitter, that even your fucking feet in sandals turns him on, and he especially hates one thing, how unaffected you are.

You’re the only girl ever that was.

And the only girl he’d die to have.

Satoru spent all of last night jerking it to your latest instagram post, not that you’d ever know, so fucking sexy, smart, your attitude even just makes him hard in your presence. In a room full of writhing bodies, giggling girls and drunk ass men, all trying to party and forget that finals are looming, that the real world is just a couple years away, all he can see is you.

He watches you down another shot, as you just get even hotter, the more you challenge him, feisty little brat, taking on a huge, grown ass man and giggling like you’re big and bad. He talks shit, you talk it right back, until Suguru calls it. - “Time! Let’s see who can walk a straight line, huh?” 

Both groups chant your names, but you do stumble then, and Satoru catches you in his arms, grinning as you pout. “Ugh no way!”

“He won.” Sukuna announces, everyone starts cheering or booing depending on whose side they were on, and Satoru tries not to think how good you feel in his fucking arms, how he’d love you to just stay there.

“Not fair, sweets, I’m way taller.”

“Whatever I tried!” You shove at him, stumbling again, and he frowns, tilting your chin up and looking into now drunk, dilated eyes.

“Let’s… get you to bed… and some water?” He murmurs then, you blink in your drunken haze, biting your lower lip, trying not to let the words out that always loom to the surface, that you want him, that you enjoy him, enjoy all your dumb ass fights, all your rivalry.

He motivates you, pushes you.

He’s gorgeous, his arms feel too fucking good.

Your brain swirls, tummy lurching just a bit, as you realize you’re good and fucked up. “I can do it myself.”

“Will you ever just let someone help you?” You shake your head, Satoru rolls his eyes, following you when you trip on the stairs now, giggling, landing right in his arms once more. “Let me take you to bed, brat.”

“Oh fine.” You let him pick you up in his arms, inhaling that expensive fucking cologne, the one only he wears, Creed something- you looked it up one day and knew this fucker was rich. “You smell good.”

“You are wasted.” He smirks as he carries you up the winding stairs, heading to your hall now, murmurs of curious partiers ensuing, and you’re just clinging even tighter to his neck. “Which room is yours?”

“Mmm, 6A.” He opens your door now, Satoru has never been in your room, he can’t help but smile when he sees the amount of Harry Potter merch, and the Lord of the Rings posters all over.

“So nerdy.”

“I’m a Slytherin, sss.” You earn his laughter, as he eases you down, eyeing how the sheet is falling, making him flush, clearing his throat. “Satoru is scared of a naked girl, no way.”

“You’re terrifying is all. In general.”

“Mmm, it’s the Slytherin in me. Whoopsie, I’m naked.” You’re giggling now, stumbling over to your dresser, Satoru faces away quickly, one thing he’d never do is take advantage of a drunk girl.

Even though he’s dying to know what your body looks like, he busies himself by going to your little fridge, pulling out a cool water bottle. “You need water.”

“Thanks dad.” You’re giggling as he turns back around, your top half off and turned, shorts barely on, Satoru grimaces, handing you the bottle, gently moving your top. “You’re not shitfaced?”

“Nah, I can hold a drink, lightweight.” You glare a bit, downing the bottle in thirsty gulps, moaning, the sound so sexy his dick twitches in reaction.

“Why do you hate me?” Your question catches him off guard, he gets your top adjusted just to see perky nipples pressing thin material.

“Why do you hate me, drunky?” He asks softly, and you sigh, stumbling a bit as he helps you into bed, leaning over you now, tensing as your fingers trace his jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” He pauses, laughing now.

“You’re annihilated.”

“You’re beautiful alright. Mmm. No wonder they all line up.” He’s setting your water down as you doze off now, kissing your head gently, something he never thought he’d do, let alone with you.

“And you’re gorgeous, stubborn brat.” His whisper is met with your snore, he can’t help but stare at you for longer than he should, before he smirks, looking back at your dresser.

He sure won.

And that means…

Revenge.

*****

Present day

“You hung up all my boxers as revenge, even my Digimon ones! I’d say you got revenge.” Satoru teases, not knowing if you remembered any of that night after you’d been so drunk, and you show no signs of recollection as he wolfs down the food hungrily.

“I sure did. Those Digimon ones were cute.”

He smirks now. “Those Slytherin panties were sexy.”

“Oh yeah?” You raise a brow, and he grins.

“Oh yeah.”

The ultrasound this time was over the tummy, thank goodness, and this time it’s a little different, Satoru’s hand is on yours as he sits next to you, much different than the mess the two of you had been last time. The cold clear ultrasound liquid pours on your slightly rounded tummy, the cool wand pressing, just a little uncomfortable as they press harder, and you two look at the screen.

“There it is.” The doctor says, and you and Satoru hold your breath, the baby already looks more like a baby, this time you see it moving, it’s little legs, it’s head, making you tear up, and Satoru holds his breath.

“Look, long legs like dad already.” He says, voice just a bit husky, you’re blinking tears back as you grin.

“Can we see if it’s a boy or girl?” You ask, and the doctor smiles warmly, nodding at you.

“We should be able to, yes. Let’s see…” The doctor looks this way and that, pressing in different places, taking pictures on the black and white screen, when they finally get the view. “You’re having a little girl.”

“Oh my god.” You both whisper at the same time, you smile tremulously at Satoru, who’s enamored so clearly.

“Satoruette!”

“No.”

“A girl, huh?” Satoru’s murmuring later, as he takes you back home, hanging in your doorway, resting his elbow on the frame, and your bright, pretty smile nearly ends him.

God he wants you.

“A girl. Here…” You take one of the photos, handing it to him, he pulls out a black leather wallet, putting it in delicately, smiling so big. “She’s beautiful already.”

“How could she not be? You see her parents?” You flush a bit, looking down as he caresses your cheek.

“I’d really… love company tonight. If you could stay.”

“One sec.” Satoru practically bounces to the car, telling Kiyotaka he could head home, you’re smiling with amusement as he runs back, clearing his throat and grinning down at you. “Are you making dinner?”

“I’m making dinner.” The two of you, it feels so comfortable, so fucking natural, as you all talk, about his business, about your career, about the little girl growing inside of you, both of your little girl.

“You’re an amazing cook, shit.” He’s rubbing his tummy, sipping on the tea you’ve made to go along with dinner, and watches you rinse off the plates, looking over your shoulder at him. “Be a cute housewife.”

“Oh whatever!” You splash a little water from your hands as you dry them then, and he stands, coming so close to you, voice husky as he presses you against the counter.

“You would be. Barefoot, pregnant, look at you.”

“Misogyny!” You’re giggling when he picks you up, kissing you, the motion ruining any hope you have of acting normal, you tremble in his hold, in how good you feel in his arms.

“Feminism is so overrated.”

You roll your eyes, heating up at your proximity, at how your body reacts to his nearness. “You’re too much.”

“Hmm…” He’s kissing down your neck now, sighing as he pulls back then, looking down at you, blue eyes lit up so bright they’re insane to take in. “You got something for me to sleep in?”

“Your boxers work.”

“Oh yeah, so slutty.” He’s murmuring, raising a brow, as the two of you start kissing over and over, until he’s lifted you right on the kitchen table, just like he did this morning. “Did she miss me?”

“Fuck yes.” He’s chuckling, slipping up your skirt now, finding your cunt hot and eager, slipping two fingers in and earning your soft whine, kissing down your throat as your head falls back. “Please.”

“Who knew all this time, just had to get you to cum to be nice?’

“You- mnh!” He’s cutting your protest off with another kiss, a curl of his fingers in your slick, eager cunt.

“How many times did you cum thinking of me?” His cocky question earns your half assed glare, before you whine out and he pulls back, sucking on his fingers and moaning. “Answer me if you wanna cum.”

“You’re the worst. How many times did you stroke him, hmm?” Satoru cries out as you turn the damn tables on him, stroking him over his slacks, finding him hard and throbbing, precum leaking even through the material, which you thumb now. “Every night looking at my picture?”

“Brat. Evil. Demon.” His cheeks flush as he eagerly unzips his pants now, and hungrily leans down, lapping at your cunt hungrily, tongue slipping up your slit, moaning at your taste. “You this soaked baby?”

“Fuck me, fuck me please!” He’s in a rush, he’d like to take his time, but he can’t stand not being inside of you one more moment. He shoves his cock in your tight little cunt, making you cum then and there, shattering and making him sensitive as he watches you, kissing your plump lips, hand entangling in your hair.

“God, fucking feel her. So wet, so perfect.” His words along with his strokes end you, as he presses you harder against your own kitchen table, dishes and utensils clattering to the floor.

Satoru is still dressed, shit so are you, as he slides his cock in your eager hole, stuffing you so full, your cunt dripping all over, pooling on the wood underneath the two of you, and your head falls back, smacking it with a loud thud then. You wince and he panics, holding his hand under your head now, pausing.

“Shit you good!?” He huffs, pausing his strokes, you nod now, as he rubs the growing bump.

“I’m good, please more.”

“Baby you’re pregnant, should you be bashing your head!?” You glare up at him, cunt gripping him and eliciting a whine.

“Fuck me.”

“Demanding!” You’re giggling, he hopes you aren’t loopy, when he fucks back into you, careful to keep a palm under your head.

“You’re… so thick, mnh, there!” He’s groaning, losing himself inside you, feeling your soft curves under him, your breasts in his grip before he pulls back, finding your clit and rubbing, making you convulse under him. “Satoru!”

“That’s it baby, that’s it… f-fuck oh my… are you…” You’re gushing now as he elicits an orgasm that has you squirting all over his cock, screaming out, slamming your damn head back again as he pauses. “Water break?’

“You!” He’s chuckling, playing with your cunt in wonder, easing back a bit, slapping his cock right on your clit, making you gush more clear arousal all over, as you grip him, cunt pulsing more and more.

“You squirt?”

“I g-guess…” You’re damn near delirious, blushing as you see the mess you’ve made now. “Oh I…”

“Messy girl, tsk. Don’t do that when you’re far along, I’ll panic.” You scowl again, as he’s chuckling, fucking his dick into you deeper, as you cling to him, and he hears the wet sounds of his fucking echo in your kitchen.

“You’re… ridiculous- ah!” He’s moaning now, closer and closer, tip leaking precum and dragging just that spot, having you cumming all over once more, until you’re so weak and fucked out that you can barely function, just clinging to him as he pushes you further, a hand entangling in your hair at the nape of your neck. “Yes, yes, yes…”

“Bossy. Bratty. I’d spank you, choke you if you- ah, cumming from the thought, can’t help yourself?” He’s talking shit but you can’t argue, not when you can’t stop cumming, and he’s looking down at you with those eyes of his. “Beautiful.”

“Mmm!” You drag him down for a kiss, whispering - ‘cum in me’ and Satoru is not going to deny you it, no he fills you so good, until you’re both a complete fucking mess, sweaty, sticky, coated in both of your cum. You laugh after a moment, and he leans up a bit, looking at you curiously. “You really said, ‘Did my water break’ you jerk!”

Satoru laughs with you, easing out and pressing sweet kisses on your cheeks. “It scared me.”

“Whatever! I didn’t know…” You trail off, so cute Satoru can’t stand it, as the realization that he did that makes him damn near feral.

“I’m the first to make you?” You nod shyly, burying your face, inhaling that cologne that always tantalizes you, and he hums a bit. “I like that.”

“Making me cum so much?”

“I like that it’s me that has. Maybe I’m… feeling a little possessive, you are my baby mama.” You giggle now, and he pulls back, lips parting, wanting to say more, but stopping himself a bit, dizzy off you. “Let’s clean up.”

Soon you’re both all ready for bed, and Satoru hops in first, taking over your bed almost entirely with his long lanky body, patting a spot next to him and grinning at you, you roll your eyes a bit. “You’re too big for the bed!”

“You could come to my house anytime you know. Way bigger beds.”

“Hmm.” You come to lay down now, and he pulls you against him, the two of you try to ignore just how good and right it feels, while he presses little kisses on your bare shoulders.

“Why’d you want me to stay, miss me so bad?”

“I’m… lonely without you.” He pauses, faltering in his teasing, leaning up on an elbow, turning your face to him, sighing as he sees the emotions there. “Ignore it.”

“Ignore it?”

“Yeah. We have our lives, I don’t want to complicate it more for you. It’s fine that you went, that you had fun.”

“I didn’t.” You blink curiously, as he sighs, pulling you even tighter against him, hard chest against your back, arm wrapped around your waist, a hand splaying your tummy, feeling so perfect, so right.

“You didn’t?”

“No. I missed you too. Okay?” You nod then, he kisses you softer, sighing, breath tickling your swollen lips. “Alright waterfall, go to bed.”

“Waterfall!?”

“Mmhmm, monsoon.”

“Oh jesus.” He’s chuckling, the mood is eased, but the two of you lay there for far too long, as he holds you tightly in his arms, thinking.

A girl, you’re both having a girl.

The baby feels so real now, as he holds you close, burying his face, hearing you lightly snore, smiling against your neck. He dreads going back to work, he dreads doing anything but holding you, kissing you, being with you. Of course having you cum all over his cock was amazing, but this is just as good, fucking…

Terrifying.

He doesn’t know if you feel anything close.

******

Three weeks later- five months along

The next few weeks fly by in a blur, no doctor appointments but Satoru frequently calls and messages. Once you heard a party in the background, and part of you feels this… sadness, you can’t just do that ever again. It’s fine, sure, but your life now is work, trying to make sure they still don’t ask you if you’re pregnant, despite your tummy growing, and tits swelling, and then…

Studying.

The more you do learn about being a parent, the harder it becomes to fathom it, the responsibility, shit at any moment a baby can just… not live anymore, and you have to be afraid of everything. Is the baby getting the right nutrition, will you have a normal labor, will the baby be healthy inside your tummy. So much information the stress eats at you.

You have no reason to really see Gojo, so when he pops up knocking on your door suddenly, you falter. You see him on your app, and use the buzzer to murmur ‘hang on a minute’ as you hurriedly rush and wash your hot cheeto dusted fingers, and brush your teeth. You peer at your dark circles- another pregnancy gift, surprise, you’re anemic!

Shit.

Why would he find you attractive, in your dumb little sweats that you’re almost not able to pull over your ass, that has just gotten bigger. Apparently girls do that, they make your ass and hips huge too. You frown as you turn in the mirror, tummy pooching out of the tee shirt that once covered it, and Satoru is still annoyingly ringing at your door bell, at ten pm.

“Hold on!” You stomp over to the front door, opening it then, and he’s still got stupid black shades on, grinning down at you, as he leans a hand on your doorway, you see his car right behind his body in your parking lot. “What’s up?”

“I needed to… see you, it's been weeks. I…” He trails off, eyes darting down your body, nipples that just want to poke out of your white tee shirt, then lower to your tummy, making him falter. “You’re showing more.”

“Yeah, I know.” Your dejected voice makes him frown. “Did you need something, or…”

“Just… I felt like… I should be here?” You blink a bit then, flushing in his presence, finally stepping aside.

“Come in, I’m sorry. I’m cranky.”

“You were before the parasyte-”

“Satoru!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He holds his hands up in defeat, and you relax just a bit.

“I’m feeling so achy, tired… I’m anemic I guess.”

Satoru frowns now. “That’s low iron, yeah?”

“Hot cheetos aren’t a good source of iron.” You’re smiling just a bit, and he’s chuckling, brushing back his white locks and easing off his shades now, blue eyes so pretty they wreck you, even as used to them as you are.

“Iron supplements then. Are you taking any?” You nod a bit, tugging at your shirt, and his hand comes to touch your tummy now, making your breath catch. “Bad girl, better take that iron.”

“You gonna punish me, hmm?” He’s leaning lower now, stepping further and further inside your quiet little home, hand firmly on your tummy as he backs you until you’re against the opposite wall.

“Think I won’t? Did you miss me sweetheart?” His voice is cocky, full of himself, but you hear it, the vulnerability, the raw need.

Your heart pounds as you nod just a bit, before you can stop yourself, shaking your head. “No way.”

“Did she miss me?” He’s got a thigh between yours, moaning as he feels your heat, hands on either side of your head, his own resting on yours as he bends over, earning your whine as he presses his thigh up.

“You missed me? Or her?” Your breathy words are right against his lips, and he dies to tell you, how badly he’s wanted to come over, how badly he needs you, all of you.

But he gulps instead, lifting that strong muscled thigh higher, watching your pretty face falter, breasts that have gotten so much fuller rising with your breaths enticing him, making him lower a hand. He brushes the sides of them with his fingertips, watching your nipples perk out more in response, cock throbbing with need now.

“Maybe I missed you both.” His hushed declaration ends you, your hands slipping up his polo now, gripping the material tightly and yanking him lower, while you arch your hips.

“Am I still sexy, Satoru?” Your whisper ends him, he moans now, hands finding purchase on your hips.

“So sexy I can’t think of anything but fucking your sweet little cunt, hmm?” You’re tearing his clothes damn near off him, releasing every bit of anything you’ve been holding back, as you both stumble back to your room. ‘Missed you, fuck’

You think you heard that, but it’s hard to hear when there’s ringing in your ears, when you’re struggling to catch your breath, with just how good Satoru fucking feels, the way he touches you, how he just lifts you like you’re nothing, even as you feel so weird in your own body. He just forces your brain to think of one thing- fucking him, kissing him, feeling him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, on his knees as he slips off the rest of your clothes, falling in a whisper to your ankles, kissing a new little mark left by his baby, making him feral, groaning as he inhales you, but you’re yanking up on him.

“Satoru, please fuck me.” Satoru’s not going to turn you down, ever, he’s immediately hard, kissing you deeper and deeper, hand reaching down to grip swollen breasts, moaning.

“Which way, baby, hmm?” He’s whispering, you press him down then, right on your bed, and he tries to take your shirt off, making you pause. “Lemme see you, fuck, please…”

“I’m all jiggly ugh!” He’s shaking his head, lifting your top now, your tits bounce out, full of milk already, while his cock strains against his black boxers, his snowy lashes lowering and casting shadows against his high cheekbones.

“Fucking sexy, shit.” He’s running a hand over your tummy now, thumb brushing a new stretch mark, as you hungrily kiss him, grinding your slick cunt against him, soaking his denim. “Lemme touch you.”

You nod weakly, as he reaches down, rolling his thumb against your clit, which twitches and throbs in reaction, soaking him further. Your head falls back, it feels so fucking good, the two of you have barely seen each other with your work, and his running of his company, so much that it’s probably been a few weeks since you’ve cum at all.

“So eager, baby, huh?” His taunting should annoy you, but it doesn’t, you’re whining and nodding, as he taps your hip, urging you to kneel, and he slips his pretty cock out, smacking his belly button with precum. “God, so wet.”

“Need it, fuck, please.” You’re grinding your slick, eager cunt along his length, as Satoru moans out, urging you with your hips, fingers gripping the curve of them.

“Then take it baby.” You whine out, leaning forward, titties in his face, he sucks at a nipple, sore and sensitive, making you wetter, tummy clenching.

“Satoru!” You’re reaching down, gripping his thick length with a small little hand in comparison, looking down as you guide his tip against your entrance.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you can take him all, can’t you?” You shake your head, struggling to take just the tip of him, whining out, he chuckles then, flipping you over, kissing down your tummy, as your hands enwrap in his hair.

“Satoru…”

“Let me get her nice and ready, huh?” You’re flushed as he kisses even lower, spreading your thighs and groaning at the sight of your slick, glistening pussy, latching his mouth right around your clit, sucking it in as he holds your lips open, moaning as he eyes you.

Your breasts bounce, so full, his hand resting right on your rounded tummy, while you yank on his silky locks, gasping. “There, oh there, please don’t stop- m’so close, Toru please…”

“Mmm, that’s it, cum all over m’face, sweetheart.” He urges, and you shatter, thighs trapping his head in the best position he can even imagine, shaking on either side while your cunt drools out more and more. “That’s it…” He’s mumbling, yanking you closer on his face now.

Everything that’s been swirling through your mind shuts off completely, as your orgasm rocks through your body by his far, far too talented tongue, teeth, fingers, all of him working you so fucking well. ‘M-missed you’ may have slipped from your lips, earning his widened blue eyes.

“Missed me?” He repeats, pressing a kiss on your quivering little clit, slipping two fingers inside your heat as you nod then, tears making your eyes glimmer from just how good it feels. “Missed me making you cum?”

“And more, shh.” You shut him off as you stroke his cock, making him groan, he leans over you now, lifting a thigh and sinking inside you in one stroke. “Fuck, so big oh my god…”

That’s nice to hear.

He’s smirking as your eyes roll back, fucking into you, careful to keep his weight off your tummy, but suddenly as you’re rolling your hips up, he feels something. You’re clinging to him, he’s sucking on a puffy little nipple, moaning at how good you feel, trying to ignore what just occurred, what he just felt from you, when suddenly it happens again, and he pauses.

“Is that… is she kicking?” He whispers now, pulling back, your face is covered in a thin sheen of your sweat, as you lean your head up a bit, looking down and touching your lower tummy.

“Probably all the excitement. It’s fine.” You’re yanking him down for another kiss, and Satoru yanks back. “Satoru, please…”

“The first kick and I’m… oh my god.”

“You’re getting soft, ugh!”

“Sorry, but oh my god.” Satoru pulls back, huge cock even on soft, as he panics, hand slicking through his white locks, shaking it in shock. “What if she knows!?”

“Satoru, she doesn't know, stop it.” You’re up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath as you watch your… baby daddy?... panic.

“What if the first thing the baby knows is my dick!? Shit!” He’s hopped off the bed now, pacing completely naked, and you grimace, laying back, body on edge, pussy still fucking pulsing around nothing now.

“It doesn’t know that, there’s a cervix there!”

“I’m huge, what if-”

“Oh jesus, why did I think you’d want to?” You’re sniffling now, standing and rushing over to your dresser, starting to snatch up clothes, and Satoru immediately stops you.

“No, no I want you, I swear.” You turn and he sees your tears, cursing. “I do, you’re gorgeous like this.”

“I am not, you were just being nice. I’m all jiggly ugh! And you don’t even… I shouldn’t have suggested that.” You’re a mess as you dress up, Satoru’s pulling you against his chest, leaning down as you shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t anymore, I’m sure you can have anyone.”

“What now?” He glares down at you, cupping your face, feeling you tremble in his hold. “That’s bullshit. This is not about you it’s… I’m scared I’ll hurt the baby.”

“Sex is fine, even close to delivery, I’m not so far we can’t go at it.” You eye him now, shaking your head. “Pregnant sex can be weird I’m sure, I shouldn’t have… pounced on you, shit.”

“Stop it. Now.” He grabs your chin, pressing a kiss on your lips, feeling how tense you are as his other hand slips up your back. “I want you. I just got… scared. It’s not how I wanted to know she kicks now.”

You sigh now, nodding and kissing him again, letting him hold you so tightly, fuck it feels good, just being in his arms. So good it’s scaring you. “You’re a good person.”

“What now? You bonk your head again?”

“You are. You’re sweet and caring, and you’re sparing my feelings.”

“Oh fuck this.” He glares, turning you around now, until you’re facing your dresser mirror, looming so tall over you as he arches your back, slipping your shorts right back off. “Look at you.”

“A mess…” He sighs, yanking your top off, a hand gripping a tit, squishing it in his big palm as he presses his cock back against your entrance, watching as your eyes dilate in the reflection, your teeth catching your bottom lip.

“Beautiful mess. Sexy, these tits, this ass? This body… those eyes…” He presses his cock inside you, lifting your thigh up as he bends down, resting your thigh up on your dresser, holding you like you’re nothing. “This perfect, tight little cunt around me.”

“S’good, you’re- ah!” He’s slammed his cock deep then, your hand comes to rest on the cool glass of the mirror, leaving a palm print as he shoves his cock so deep, throbbing in your slick walls, which gush down his length.

“You’re gorgeous, talk shit again and I’ll punish you, hmm?” You nod eagerly, as he laughs against your neck, fingers twisting your nipples. “This is what you wanted, should have asked me over. Needed to cum all over my cock, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, please, please- mnh!” You’re done as he fucks into you, a little rougher but still cautious, holding onto you, your head falls back against his chest, his reflection revealing eyes nearly black with desire, his huge hands overtaking you by every inch of your skin, his teeth sinking into your neck when he hits deep, making you gasp.

“That’s it, cum f’me baby…” His words end you again, when don’t they, but something is so intimate when he tilts your chin down. “Watch how pretty you still are, you’re prettier, okay?”

You tear up as you nod, and one thing hits as deep as his long, curved cock against your cervix-

Your feelings.

You’re in love with him.

Fuck.

You’re convulsing when he presses in once more, having you watch until you can’t even see anymore, until your eyes roll back and you’re blinded, drool falling right out of your mouth as your walls flutter around him. Satoru groans, you’re so sensitive you can’t stop cumming, when he fills you so good, cum coating every bit of your slick hole now.

He’s whimpering in your ear, clinging to you, and one thought reigns through his ringing ears, as he feels you twitching and shaking in his embrace, as he feels your muscles pushing his cum all down his length, mixing with your slick arousal. One thought infiltrates his mind as he watches your beautiful face, as he hears your whines, as he sees your eyes open back up.

He’s in love with you.

Fuck.

Has he always been?

He eases you down now, gently, eyeing the condensation left from your breath against that now messy mirror, both of your hand prints against it, his so big, yours so small in comparison. He places your feet on the floor after pulling his thick cock out of your tightening cunt, still staring at you in the mirror now, gulping down the heavy emotions of the moment.

He knew it wasn’t just sex, he knew something deeper was there, but the way your eyes meet him, the way you’re clinging to him, the way his hand brushes your tummy, pressing just a bit, it’s so intimate it takes his breath. The madness, the passion, it’s just pieces of it, the connection, then and there, without words, overwhelms his senses so badly he can’t imagine not having this.

“Thank you for it, all of it. Thank you for-”

“Shh.” He turns your chin, lowering his head, taking over your every sense, when you taste yourself on his plump lips, pressing kisses against yours. “Don’t thank me for showing you the truth.”

“Satoru…” You turn now, pulling him down, kissing him over and over, as he pulls you gently against him, picking you up in his arms, lifting you until you’re sitting on your dresser, exhaling and running his hands down you. “You make me feel so pretty.”

“You should. One thing you’ve always been is pretty, even when you’re mean, or… psychotic.” You’re laughing now, as he continues to swipe your tears. “I’d never be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“I know that. I got in my head?”

“So did I, shit.” You both laugh softly, and Satoru’s alarm goes off, he grimaces as he looks at it. “I have work in the morning or I’d stay.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can go if you need.” He frowns now, shaking his head just a bit, brushing your hair back off your neck, as the ceiling fan works overtime to make either of your overheated bodies cool.

“Come stay with me for a couple days, help me set up a nursery? You can spend all my black card you want.” You giggle now, nodding, earning his relieved little smile, you’re so stressed, he can feel it in your energy, he can see it on your pretty, exhausted face.

“I’d love to. I’m so excited.” Soon you’re both by the front door, and Satoru’s kissing your head, holding you against him tightly.

“We are naming her Satoruette, right?”

“No way.”

“Maybe you are still mean.” He pouts, earning more of your laughter, tilting your chin up as the cool breeze from the dark, starry night pours in.

“Kiyotaka better get good money for all this.”

“He’s richer than me, psh.” You roll your eyes, falling back into his hug.

“I’m… excited to spend time with you.” Your whisper touches him then, as he holds you close, falling deeper every moment, feeling a little kick against him.

“All you need is dick hmm?”

“Oh god!”

He’s grinning, so fucking handsome then, with the moonlight enhancing that tall silhouette of his, your heart races. You almost say you love him, fuck it feels horrible not saying it, but what does that make the two of you? So far you’re practicing being friends, co parents, sleeping together, but tonight, when he whispered how pretty you were?

When he held you?

When he reassured you?

Fuck you can barely hold the words back.

“Get some sleep, go eat your hot cheetos.”

“Oh!” You shove at him playfully as he grins, leaving you alone, back resting against the cool wood of your door, mind whirling.

After a nice hot shower, you get your text, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to them, to them all. Even his pervy, ridiculous and goofy texts- like this one.

 Fratboy Gojo🙄 Tell Satoruette good night from her Papa <3 

You giggle, shaking your head, sipping on some water as you set the smut book you’ve been reading on your tablet down.

Sorority Brat 💦😻 Satoruette will never be her name, but I will tell her good night for you.

Satoru smiles down at his phone, he can still taste you, he can still inhale your scent all over him, see your pretty face in his head. He turns on his side, dying to hold you in his arms once more, only once he ever had really, but he longs to have you, to have you all the time.

Fratboy Gojo🙄 Daddy says good night to you too.

Sorority Brat 💦😻 I’m never calling you daddy!

Fratboy Gojo🙄 You will one day ;) 

Sorority Brat 💦😻 Lol, good night Satoru, see you soon.

Fratboy Gojo🙄 Good night, sweets.

The two of you fall asleep, love deep in your hearts and building with each breath, him holding a body pillow, picturing you, as you touch your tummy lovingly, feeling a little kick, smiling now. “Dad said good night, sweet girl.”

They're in lovvvvvee- I snorted at several scenes here, I have way too much fun with him. I said four parts so expect either a VERY long next part for the last, or two more (it's me lol) hope you enjoyyy

taglist #1- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97 @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @nkpajares @emonaculate

[nkplanet]

THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER

older!dean x fem!reader cw age gap, nsfw below cut (mdni), size kink (+ implied choking kink?), bunker era (think s9-10, so dean is 34-36 ish and reader is early to mid 20s), a little angsty in one or two places

notes my final assignment of first year is due in 12 hours. i wrote this instead. also i don’t usually write smut so if it’s shit dhmu

older!dean was hesitant to do anything with you at first. there’s thirteen years between you, and he’d always said it was too much, that he was too old for you. eventually, after months of teasing and flirting and god knows how many repetitions of “i know what i want, dean,” he’d grabbed your face and kissed you hard.

older!dean treats you like glass that he could break at any second. he’s gentle — gentler than he ever was with any other girl. he kisses your forehead, always has a gentle hand on you, and generally takes care of you. he cooks for you, wraps blankets around you when you fall asleep researching, and acts like the definition of a gentleman (to sam’s utter delight — the new material he’s gained to tease his brother with is endless).

older!dean shares his music with you. you call him old for it, and he makes a suggestive comment about you benefitting from his experience. he makes you a tape of songs he loves and catches you playing it in your room on more than one occasion. the two of you bond massively over music, with him showing you the rock he grew up with and you showing him newer stuff, like paramore. he’ll never admit that he thinks hayley williams is awesome, but you know.

older!dean hates taking you out on hunts. you met through hunting, and you’re a damn good hunter yourself (his words), but that will never stop him worrying. he’s protective, almost overwhelmingly so, on hunts, and you’ve had more than one biting argument about how he needs to let up. he promises he will some day, but you still see his eyes on you constantly. he needs to make sure you’re there, to make sure you’re safe.

older!dean loves to tease you with pet names to see how flustered he can make you. there are some he uses that are nice, and make you feel nice and warm inside, like angel and sweetheart. (darlin’ with his texan twang, always gets you blushing.) he tries to call you baby, but you veto it, stating the age difference as a reason. he tries to tease you, occasionally calling you kid and kiddo until you stop calling him honey and start only referring to him as old man.

older!dean absolutely loses it when you get hurt. you go on a hunt with sam, despite your boyfriend’s protests at getting left behind, and when sam calls as a heads up that you’re injured, he’s an anxious mess until you reach the bunker. you walk through the door bruised and a little bloodied, and he’s all over you. he doesn’t leave you alone, even after you’ve been cleaned up and ordered to rest by sam. he’s constantly touching you, either holding your hand or rubbing comforting circles on your hip. even when you heal he’s hesitant to let you out of his sight again, stating in the middle of a dark night while he holds you close that he can’t lose you.

things with older!dean start out soft and pretty vanilla, as he doesn’t want to push you or hurt you. he’s so caring and gentle with you, making sure you enjoy yourself and holding you close and making sure you finish first.

when older!dean finds out you’re just as freaky as he is, it’s over for you. he’s relentless, testing new things with you almost every night. youre sure you’ve tried every position by now, but dean’s favourite is a tossup between missionary, where he can watch your face as he all but pounds into you, and cowgirl, where he can watch as you tire yourself out on top of him (being able to see your tits bounce is also a bonus).

older!dean loves it when you suck him off but let’s be honest: he’s a huge munch. he’s eaten you out in more places than you can count, including (probably) every surface in the bunker, the backseat and driver’s seat of the impala, countless motel rooms and even a few diner restrooms.

older!dean has trouble letting you take control sometimes. he feels a little strange, given the age gap between you, but when you do get chance? he loves it. being completely under your control, letting you do whatever you want? it’s like a dream come true for him. but, despite how many times you start on top, it always ends with him snapping his hips up into you or flipping you over and finishing what you started.

older!dean loves it when he gets to see just how much bigger he is than you. when he can hold your waist and his hand seems to just dwarf you, or when he has you in his lap and his hands cover your hips completely. he especially loves watching as he takes you, and when his large hand wraps around your throat with just enough pressure for you to feel it.

regardless of how vanilla or how insane the sex is, older!dean never misses a second of aftercare. he’s always right there, with either a warm bath or a damp cloth depending on how tired you are. he’ll massage your thighs after they’re spent from riding him or comb out the tangles he made in your hair, whispering sweet nothings to you and holding you like you’re fragile because, to him, you are. even when he’s let you take the reins, he holds you close as you drift off to sleep, pressing gentle kisses on your face and tracing his hand down your back.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 48: Wild Times

Summary: Things begin changing between you and your pack as someone says goodbye.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,518 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, smut, anal sex, oral sex, handjobs, cockwarming, teasing, lots of kissing, language, slight dom/sub dynamics, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alternate universe, emotions, slight angst

A/N: I wrote this in like two days so forgive me if it sucks

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“How do you feel?”

“Good. I feel really good.” You say honestly.

“Good. You’ve come a long way and I’m very proud of you for the progress you’ve made.” Dr. Keller says. The two of you are sitting out on the back porch. It’s a nice day, the sun out after a few days of rain and clouds.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to tell me something.” You say, staring at her. She almost looks nervous, the professional facade cracking just a little bit. Just enough that you can tell something is going on.

“I do have something I need to tell you.” She says after a moment. “You’ve come a long way, you’ve overcome hurdles and grown so much in the time that I’ve known you. I’m so very proud of you, but...I’m not sure how much more I can do for you now.”

You expected this was coming. With your life turning around as it has recently, with the growth between you and your pack and your healing after the ordeal, you knew there would come a time when Dr. Keller would leave. There’s no point to her staying here with you, now that Shepherd is gone and things have calmed down.

“Things are going to change here soon,” she continues. “And I’m not sure how much more you’re going to need me for. You’re doing so well and your pack has improved so much over these last few weeks. I’m so very proud of all of you and the work you’ve put in. I think you’re ready to graduate from needing an omega specialist.”

You try to fight the tears gathering in your eyes. You don’t want her to go. As much as you understand and you know, you don’t feel like letting her go yet. You’d cling to her forever if you could, but you know that’s all the more reason for her to go now. She’s done more than she should have, more than she needed to and no doubt she’s feeling that need to move on as well. It makes your stomach ache, but at the same time, you understand.

“I don’t feel like I am,” you say honestly. “But at the same time I know it’s not fair to keep you here. You’ve done so much for us, for me, and...and I want you to know that I’m forever grateful for that.”

“I know.” She says, giving you a smile. Despite it there’s a sadness in her eyes. She has to be torn about this too. The two of you have bonded so much in the year that you’ve been seeing her. It hurts breaking that bond, but at the same time, it’s a necessity. “I’ll always be here for you, but I have to move on to other things.”

“Where are you going to go?” You ask, trying not to cry. You’ve never been good at goodbyes. It’s probably the trauma.

“I’ve accepted a position in Exeter at a clinic.” She says.

“Exeter as in close to Ashley?” You give her a knowing look.

That bashful look crosses her face again, and for the first time she breaks eye contact, looking down at her lap.

“I’m happy for you,” you continue. “I really am. Technically if the two of you get together you’ll be extended family.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re not wrong.” She looks back up at you, smiling softly. “You’re taking this better than I expected.”

“I knew it was coming, in a way.” You say. “It would happen eventually. Things really are changing and now that Shepherd’s gone...there’s nothing holding us here. We’ll have to return to the real world eventually. As much as I’d like to be selfish, I know there’s other omegas out there that deserve to have your help.”

She reaches out, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “You’ve always been so sweet, so caring. I’m honored I got to serve as your omega specialist. I am so very proud of you and I always will be.” She squeezes your hand harder. “You have my number. You need anything you call me, okay?”

You nod, tears blurring your vision despite your fight to hold them back. “Yeah. I will.”

“Good.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, tears welling in hers as well.

You reach over, pulling her into a hug. It probably breaks some sort of doctor/patient boundary, but after everything the two of you have been through, you’re willing to break past that realm of professionalism.

You breathe in her comforting scent one last time, burying it in your memories. You’ll always remember her and what she did for you, the ways she helped you overcome the lies drilled into your head, how she helped you grow into your own person. She kept you alive, helped you heal from a traumatic event. She kept you sane, helped you realize just how powerful you truly are and that you shouldn’t be afraid of your pack and taking charge.

You’ll be forever grateful for having her in your life.

“Take care of each other.” Dr. Keller says, standing next to the car. “I don’t want to get any calls with bad news.”

“We’ll do our best.” John says, his arm around your waist.

She looks over your pack before nodding. “Some part of me doesn’t want to believe you, but a bigger part of me knows you’re telling the truth.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.” John says, his grip around you tight. “We are forever in your debt.”

Dr. Keller smiles, it’s a sad smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “I was just doing my job.”

“You did more than that.” Kyle says. “Far more.”

Dr. Keller stands there for a moment before nodding. “I suppose so. I wouldn’t take any of it back, though.” She looks over you once more, her eyes pausing in you for a long moment.

“We’ll take good care of her.” John says, his arm sliding from your waist to wrap around your shoulder. “If not, we give you full rights to come back and take her from us.”

Dr. Keller gives him a pointed look. “I’ll hold you to that.” She opens the car door, letting out a heavy breath. “You have my number. Don’t hesitate to call. Good luck to you and whatever is coming next.”

“Best of luck to you as well.” John nods.

“Say hi to Ashley for me.” Kyle grins.

Dr. Keller rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” She gives you one last smile. “Take care. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You watch as she gets into the car, John’s grip around you tightening just a little. Tears start to blur your eyes as you watch the car disappear down the road until it’s out of sight. Two goodbyes in such a short amount of time has you feeling devastated, but at the same time, you know it’s for the best. It’s not like it’s forever. You’ll likely see both Dr. Keller and your family again in the future.

Yet you can’t deny the ache in your chest at watching them go.

John kisses the top of your head, his hands squeezing your arms. “You alright?” He murmurs against your hair.

You stand there for a moment, staring down the road before you nod. “Yeah. I will be.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Fine.” You shrug, marking your place in your book.

“It’s a big change.”

“I knew it was coming.” You shrug again, setting your book on your nightstand.

Kyle sinks down onto your bed, laying himself down against your pillows. “It’s okay to not be okay about this.”

You let out a sigh. “I mean, it’s sad that she left, but at the same time I’m happy she’s getting to go do what she wants now and is getting to help other omegas that need it. They’ll be lucky to have her. Ashley is lucky to have her.”

“They are a good couple.” Kyle says, reaching for your hand.

“Big power couple vibes.” You say, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m glad Ashley is part of the family. Your sister is an absolute angel.”

Kyle snorts. “You should have seen her growing up.”

“Everyone was a terror growing up.” You say, letting him pull you closer.

“Imagine Johnny as a kid.”

You both make a face, imagining the high-strung beta as a pup.

“No thanks.” You say, resting your head against his chest.

“You sure you’re alright?” He asks, wrapping an arm around you.

“Yeah. I will be.” You say. “It’ll take some getting used to, not having a personal therapist in the house.”

“We can get you a new one.” He says, patting your back.

“I think I’ll be okay.” You reach up, cupping his cheek. “You’re so sweet, caring about me like this.”

“Well, Christine has been a big part of your life for the last year.” He shrugs. “Just making sure you’re gonna be okay once she’s gone.”

“I’ll be fine. Just get ready to hear about my problems a lot more than you have been.” You grin.

“Oh good.” He playfully rolls his eyes.

“Rude.” You giggle, squeezing his side to tickle him.

“Hey!” He shouts, wiggling to try and get away from your hands.

Despite his size advantage you pull up a hazy memory of your training with Simon, wrapping a leg around his waist to force him over onto his back. You wind up sitting on top of him, your fingers dragging along his stomach to continue tickling him. He continues to laugh, playfully batting at your hands.

You wrap your fingers around his wrists, pinning them to the bed by his head. You lean over him, staring down at him as you pin him to the bed. He could easily get out of this, use his weight against you to force you up but he doesn’t, instead laying there limp under you.

“I quite like this angle.” He says, his eyes hooded as he stares up at you.

You smirk, leaning closer to him. “I’m sure you do.”

His arms flex under your hands, a reminder that he could easily flip the script and put you in this position. He doesn’t though, almost too happy to be pinned to the bed under you.

You lean down even further, your breath mingling with his. He tilts his head up, trying to kiss you but you hold back, not letting him have the satisfaction. His bottom lip puckers in a pout as you deny him what he wants.

“Been a long time.” He murmurs, pushing against your hands.

“For you maybe.” You say, but you can’t deny the warmth starting to pool in your stomach. It hasn’t been long for you, but it’s been a long while since you’ve been with the other members of your pack. You miss them. You miss all of them.

“Don’t mean to interrupt.”

Your head snaps to the side, looking back towards the door at the new voice. Simon stands there, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. His brows are raised, eyes trailing over you and Kyle.

He stays there for a moment before pushing off the frame, his steps slow as he approaches the bed. Neither you nor Kyle move, frozen there as the alpha stalks towards you. He looks like a hungry animal that’s caught its prey right where he wants it.

His hand is warm as it drags down your back, fingers pausing just above your tailbone. His other hand cups Kyle’s chin, fingers holding his jaw. “Pretty in’t he?” Simon mumbles, brushing his thumb across Kyle’s lips before pressing it between them.

Kyle parts his lips, taking Simon’s thumb into his mouth. You watch as he sucks on the appendage, still pinning him down on the bed. Simon’s hand slips beneath your pants, cupping your ass over your underwear as he leans in closer to you.

“What were you planning?” He murmurs into your ear, lips brushing the delicate skin. “A quickie before lunch? Like a couple of naughty pups?”

“Maybe.” You say, pushing back against his hand.

“Maybe?” He smirks. “Should have locked the door then.”

His teeth sink into your earlobe gently, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs down your spine. He pulls his thumb from Kyle’s mouth, trailing it down over his chin and his throat. His other hand sinks lower, fingers pressing between your legs.

“She likes this, you know?” He says to Kyle, feeling the dampness in your underwear. “Pretending to be dominant.” His hand closes around Kyle’s throat, fingers flexing just a little. “Then again, so do you.”

He pulls Kyle up to sit, forcing you to drop back into his lap. He’s hard, pressing between your thighs as you’re pushed up against his chest. Simon’s hand slips around to the back of Kyle’s neck, holding him in place.

“Just a couple of pretty pups playing pretend.” Simon says, glancing between you before leaning in to Kyle.

Your lips part as they kiss, Simon’s tongue sliding into Kyle’s mouth. Kyle moans, the sound vibrating through you. It’s a beautiful sight, watching them kiss. You hadn’t put much thought into them together before, even though you know it has happened in the past. They always seem to gravitate towards their respective mates naturally. The ideas floating around in your head have you gushing into your panties.

You let out a little whine of your own, hips pressing down against Simon’s fingers still resting between your legs. You’re getting wetter and wetter as you watch them kiss, Simon devouring Kyle’s mouth, all tongue and teeth as he teases the beta.

The sight has you clenching your thighs around Kyle’s hips, more slick gushing into your panties and wetting Simon’s fingers.

Simon hums against Kyle’s lips, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip before pulling back just slightly. “I think she likes it.”

Kyle groans, pushing his hips up against you. Simon presses his hand down, grinding it against the bulge in Kyle’s pants.

“I think you both like it.” Simon pushes Kyle’s head closer to yours and you get the memo, closing the distance to kiss him.

Simon lets out a breath as he watches the two of you kiss, his fingers stroking you through your panties. His scent is strong in the air, mixing with the scent of arousal wafting off of you and Kyle.

“Look at you.” he murmurs. “The two prettiest members of the pack together. What a sight.”

Kyle’s tongue flicks against your own, mimicking what you know he’s capable of doing to your pussy. You can’t stop the moan that sneaks out, Kyle swallowing the sound as he kisses you.

Simon hums before pulling his hand from your pants, wrapping that arm around your waist before lifting you off of Kyle. You let out a loud whine in protest as you’re pulled apart, struggling against him but he’s stronger than you. Kyle catches himself before he drops backwards as Simon lets him go, lifting you to your feet as he rises to his.

“Time for lunch.” He says, still holding you as you struggle against him.

“No fair!” You whine, going dead weight against him to try and slip out of his hold.

He chuckles, still holding you up easily. “Be a good girl and I’ll let you sit on his face later.”

You pause, thinking it over for a moment before pushing yourself up to stand straight. “Okay.” You slip out of his grasp, heading for the door and out into the living room.

Both John and Johnny look up as you come out of the room, no doubt the scent of your arousal strong in the air. There’s probably a cocktail of scents wafting through the door: yours, Kyle’s, and Simon’s.

Johnny sets down the bag of chips in his hand before bee-lining to you, nearly colliding with your body as he frantically presses his face into your neck.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” He groans, his hands dropping to hold your ass as he keeps you pressed against his chest.

Your body flushes as his tongue laves over your skin, licking up every drop of scent he can from your gland. A quiet sound leaves your lips as he sinks his teeth into your skin, almost like he’s trying to drink the scent of your arousal directly.

It’s almost too much after the stimulation you just received from Simon and Kyle. You could cum in your pants just like this, with Johnny’s hands gripping your ass, his boner poking you in the hip. He’ll probably cum in his pants if he keeps this up.

Johnny lets out a groan as a hand wraps around the back of his neck, pulling him away from you. You stumble as he tries to pull you, but his hands release your ass before you can fall. John holds him back, leaning over his shoulder as he scruffs the beta.

“None of that.” He chastises Johnny. “We have lunch to eat.”

“Fuck sandwiches,” Johnny groans. “Lay her out on tha table. Let me feast.”

“We spent all this time making a nice lunch and we’re going to eat it.” John says, releasing Johnny. “Now take a seat.” He pushes Johnny towards the table with a slap to his ass.

Johnny grumbles but acquiesces, making his way to his seat at the table.

John steps up to you, staring down at you intensely. Despite his insistence on the moment ending, you glimpsed the small bulge in his pants. You’re tempted to touch it, drag your hand across the denim to tease him, but you’re caught in his gaze. His hand lifts to your face, thumb tracing over your lips. You part them slightly, but he pulls away, crossing his arms as he stares down at you.

“Can you behave?” He asks.

No. You wouldn’t mind being spread out on the table for them to enjoy. But you know that’s not the answer he’s looking for. “Yes.” You nod.

“Good.” He turns you towards the table, sending you to your seat with a pat on the ass.

He turns to Simon and Kyle, both of them moving to their seats wordlessly.

Lunch is filled with a tense silence. You’re glad Dr. Keller has left with the way all five of your scents are thick in the air. It’s heavy with arousal, no doubt all four men sporting hard-ons under the table. The thought of sliding under there to suck them off one by one is tempting, but you’ll get in trouble. Not that punishment wouldn’t be worth it, but you’ll be good today.

At least for now.

Simon makes good on his promise.

Kyle’s lips are wrapped around your clit, suckling on the sensitive bud as you grind down against his face, hands braced on his chest. Simon has him nearly folded in half, tongue wrapped around yours as he snaps his hips against Kyle’s ass.

“Fucking hell.” Simon groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip as he thrusts hard into Kyle. Kyle moans against your clit, making your legs squeeze tighter around his head. “Make her cum and I’ll let you.” Simon grunts, his hand wrapped around the base of Kyle’s cock.

Kyle swirls his tongue around your clit before taking it between his lips again, sucking it hard. You’re already close from how long you’ve been here, perched over his face. He’s close too, hard and almost pulsing in Simon’s hand. Simon hasn’t let up once, fucking into him hard and fast. There’s sweat beaded across all of your bodies, sliding down your faces, dripping onto skin.

God it’s been so long.

“C’mon.” Simon grunts, holding himself back as well.

“Fuck,” You whine, legs shaking around Kyle’s head as he sucks hard on your clit, nipping at the sensitive bud with his teeth. You grind down against his mouth, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks on it one last time.

You cum, gushing all over his face with a cry.

Kyle moans against your pussy, licking up every drop of your juices as your nails sink into his chest.

“Good boy.” Simon praises, finally releasing Kyle’s cock. He lifts Kyle’s hips, changing the angle at which he’s thrusting into the beta. “Cum for me.”

Kyle’s body trembles, his hands tightening around your thighs as he gets closer and closer to the edge. You lean over, reaching down to grip his cock in your hand. He groans louder, twitching in your hand as you pump his cock in time with Simon’s thrusts.

It doesn’t take him long to cum, spurting against your hand and his stomach as he moans so beautifully. Simon curses, hands tightening around Kyle’s hips before he cums as well, spilling into Kyle’s ass.

You gather his cum on your fingers, sitting up on Kyle’s chest before bringing your fingers to your lips. You hold eye contact with Simon as you take them into your mouth, cleaning Kyle’s cum off your skin. Simon’s eyes are dark as he watches you, following the path of your tongue as it licks the viscous liquid off your hand.

His hand sinks into your hair, pulling you close to his mouth before kissing you. His tongue pushes into your mouth, licking at the remnants of Kyle’s cum on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, pressing closer to him. He kisses you for a moment before pulling away, pushing you over to the side.

You roll unceremoniously to the side, watching Simon lean over Kyle. His face is still shiny with your juices, Simon’s tongue darting out to lick a stripe from his chin to his lips. Your lips part as you watch Simon clean your slick off of Kyle’s face, Kyle panting into the kisses. Warmth starts to pool in your stomach again as you watch them, lips parting slightly. They make such a pretty couple, Simon’s rough hands and Kyle’s malleable nature.

“Think she’s feeling left out.” Simon murmurs against Kyle’s lips.

Kyle turns his head, Simon kissing down his throat. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around you before pulling you closer. You wind up snuggled against his side, immediately leaning in for a kiss. Kyle kisses you, a hint of your own taste still on his tongue, along with a hint of Simon. It’s an intoxicating cocktail, almost as intoxicating as the scents in the air.

Oh god how you’ve missed this.

Simon watches the two of you for a moment before getting up, Kyle moaning as he slips out of his ass. Kyle’s arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against his chest as he continues to kiss you.

Simon returns with a rag, wiping down Kyle and between your legs before disappearing back into the bathroom for a moment. Kyle rolls to his side, pulling away from your lips as he slips an arm beneath your head. He stares at you, his eyes roving over your face for a moment.

“Hi.” He breathes, a small smile pulling at his lips.

You can’t help but grin back. “Hi. Feeling better now?”

He hums, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Much better. Missed you so much.”

“Me or my pussy?” You smirk.

Kyle pretends to think for a moment. “Both. Definitely both.”

“I’ll try not to keep you waiting so long next time.” You say, resting your head against his bicep.

“Blue-balled us all.” Simon says, coming around the other side of the bed. He lays down behind you, tossing the sheet over your bodies.

“Sorry,” You hum, getting comfortable between them.

“Working backwards this time.” Kyle says, draping his arm across you to reach Simon. “Poor John has to be last.”

“He’ll be fine.” Simon grunts. “Johnny’s probably got his dick down his throat right now.”

You let out a noise at the mental image that flashes through your head. Johnny on his knees, that needy look in his eyes, face flushed as his mouth spreads wide around John’s cock.

Simon chuckles darkly, his hand resting on your hip at your shift in scent. “Like that, do you?”

“Can’t help it.” You murmur, rubbing your legs together. “He’s just so...fun to play with.”

“He’s our favorite toy.” Simon says.

A thought crosses your mind. Johnny on his knees in front of the three of them, taking turns as he goes down the line.

You lick your lips. “Have you ever…”

“Course.” Simon grunts. “Lots of times.”

“Oh.” You blink, staring at Kyle’s chest as you think it over. Of course they’ve all been together at the same time. Why wouldn’t they? “Would...would you ever...with me?”

Kyle hums. “If you wanted to. It’s a lot all at once though.”

“Think I can’t handle it?” You say, your omega starting to stir, though you’re not sure if it’s the idea of being surrounded by them or the insinuation against your strength and stamina.

Kyle shrugs. “I don’t know. Do you think you could?”

Could you? You’ve never really thought about it that hard before. Sure the fantasy has been there, but the reality? The admin behind making it work…

“Don’t know.” You say, curling in on yourself. “Never been in an orgy before.”

“You’d never had sex before you joined our pack.” Simon reminds you.

“Now look at me.” You say, rolling onto your back, tits out above the blanket. “You’ve properly corrupted me.”

Simon growls low in his chest, his hand sneaking under the blanket to rest right below your breasts. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” you tease. “You destroyed my innocence? Corrupted me into a needy little omega desperate for alpha cock?”

You can feel his cock start to stir again against your hip as his hand slides up, fingers closing around your nipple and tugging.

“Careful,” he warns you. “You’re getting yourself all worked up again.”

You sink your teeth into your lip, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

He grunts, laying there for a moment before he slips his hand under your shoulder, turning you over onto your side against Kyle’s chest. “Stay.” He commands before moving behind you, the bed dipping as he rolls.

Kyle watches him over the top of your head, and you hear the snap of a lid. A few seconds pass before Simon rolls back over, shoving the blanket down before two wet fingers prod at your pussy. Kyle lifts your leg up as Simon slips them into you, pumping them a couple times to lube your walls before pulling his hand free. You lay there as he saddles up right against your back, the head of his cock pressing against your hole.

You gasp as he pushes in, the lube aiding as he presses his hips until they’re flush with your ass. He stills there, his cock seated inside your pussy.

“Keep that in there all night and I’ll put your knees up by your ears tomorrow.” He grunts before settling behind you.

“Well how am I supposed to sleep now?” You whine, clenching around his cock.

“Figure it out.” He murmurs, his breath fanning the top of your head.

“Fuckin’ still at it.”

“They’re young.”

“Christ almighty.” Johnny groans, shifting in his seat. “Feel sorry for the poor hen.”

“Why?” John snorts. “Sounds like she’s enjoying herself quite a bit.”

A loud, keening moan sounds through the wall, paired with a rough slam of the headboard.

“Gonnae put a hole in the wall.” Johnny grumbles, sipping his coffee.

“We can fix that easily.” John says, taking a bite of his toast. “Surprised Simon didn’t make several during her heat.”

Johnny huffs. “Thought he did a few times.”

Another long, drawn out moan sounds, an echoing deeper one following.

“There she goes.” John says, the house falling silent.

“Think it’s over?” Johnny asks.

John nods. “Most likely. I doubt they’d push it much further so early.”

“For our sakes I hope yer right.” Johnny grumbles.

A few moments later the door opens, a proud looking Kyle making his way out of the room. The scent of musk, sweat, and sex follows him reaching their noses quickly. Johnny lets out a quiet sound, nearly a whine at the rich scent.

“Screamin’ fuckin’ Jesus.” Johnny groans. “Did ye kill her?”

“She’s fine. Be out as soon as her legs stop shaking.” Kyle smirks.

Johnny spouts out a curse none of them quite understand as Kyle makes his way to the kettle for some tea.

“What’s for breakfast?” Simon asks, appearing through the half open door to your room. He’s bare chested and looking quite proud of himself.

“Oh yeah, ye come out here peacockin’ expecting a Full English laid out?” Johnny snaps.

Simon smirks. “What, pouting because you didn’t get to join in?”

“Woulda been easier if I didnae have tae listen to it!” Johnny fumes.

“You could have stayed upstairs.” Simon smirks, approaching his fired up beta. “I think you’re just upset you got left out.” Simon cards his fingers through Johnny’s hair. It’s getting long, his fingers sinking into it easily. He grips it, tilting Johnny’s head back slightly so they’re looking each other in the eye. “Be a good boy and maybe next time I’ll let you in.”

Johnny nearly turns to goo in his seat, deflating instantly. He can’t be mad, not with Simon’s dominant side coming out. He can only imagine what he did to you in such a state. No wonder you have yet to be seen.

“Every man for himself this morning for breakfast.” John says, breaking the tense energy of the moment. As much as he’d enjoy watching Johnny get bent over the table, Simon has likely exerted himself enough for the time being. The last thing they need is an injury.

Simon smirks before releasing Johnny, the Scot sinking down into his chair as soon as he’s free. Kyle makes his way to the table, sitting down next to John gingerly.

“Not ye too.” Johnny says, staring at Kyle with hooded eyes.

Kyle smirks, saying nothing as he takes a sip of his tea.

Simon starts on some eggs, the smell starting to waft through the house.

The door creaks quietly as it opens, all of their gazes drawn across the room. You appear out of the darkness, hair mussed, bruises on your neck visible thanks to the loose fitting shirt you’ve donned (likely Simon’s), walking with a noticeable limp.

“Morning sweetheart.” John says, taking a sip of his tea as he watches you slowly make your way to the table. “Have a good night?”

“Mhm.” You hum, lowering yourself slowly into a chair. “Great night.”

“Sounded like it.” Johnny mumbles.

“Did you have a good night?” You ask, voice airy.

“We did.” John says, hiding a smirk behind his mug.

“Good.” You smile, leaning your head on your arm.

“What kind of magic did ye work Simon?” Johnny asks, staring at your blissed out face.

“Just gave her what she wanted.” Simon shrugs, plating the eggs. He carries two plates over to the table, setting one in front of you. “Folded her in half and fucked her till she cried.”

Johnny curses, shifting in his seat again as Simon takes his seat next to him.

“It was quite the sight.” Kyle grins.

“I bet.” John says.

“You can fuck me next if you’d like.” You say, spooning some eggs into your mouth.

He smiles. “You’re sweet to offer, but I think you need a break for a bit.”

“Wha’ about me?” Johnny whines.

You turn your gaze to him. “I’d rather watch you get dicked down.”

“Oh shit.” Kyle breathes, looking between you and his fellow beta.

Johnny lets out a moan at your words, his body shuddering.

“Did you just cum in your pants?” Simon asks, looking down at his beta.

“No…” Johnny flushes, looking bashful.

“’S alright. Happens to the best of us.” You say, taking another bite of your eggs nonchalantly, like you didn’t just make a grown man cum untouched in his pants like a teenager.

“Fucking hell what’s gotten into us?” Kyle asks, looking around the table.

“It’s been far too long since we’ve gotten a chance to be so free with each other.” John says. “Between what happened and then for Christine’s sake, we held ourselves back. Now we have the space and the desire to do as we wish.”

“Be nice while it lasts.” You say, mumbling around your eggs.

“What do you mean?” Kyle asks.

You shrug, eyes down on your plate. “Have to go back eventually, right?”

The table falls silent at the sudden drop in energy, all of them sharing looks but none of them brave enough to say anything.

“I still don’t get it.”

“It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

“But you have to get the hang of it first.” You say, staring hard at the chess board.

“You’ll get it eventually.” Simon says, moving his piece.

“You just won again, didn’t you?” You groan.

“I did.”

You shake your head. “It’s not fair. I still don’t know what I’m doing. Can we go back to playing checkers?”

“You lost at that too.”

“But at least I know how to play.” You say.

“Still beating you?” John asks appearing in front of the fireplace.

“Yes.” You pout.

“We’ll find a game your good at.” Kyle says. “Then we’ll let you beat us.”

“Hey!” You say, lifting yourself off the floor to sit on the couch. “That’s not fair!”

“Better than you losing all the time.” Kyle says, sitting down across from you.

Johnny takes the seat next to you as Simon lifts himself onto the couch next to Kyle. John stands before you, and you can already tell you’re in a pack meeting just from the look on his face. He’s wearing that mask again, the mask of the Captain, the Head Alpha, the Leader.

“I’ve called you all here for a very important announcement.” He says, holding a folder in his hands. You hadn’t noticed it before.

The four of you sit there quietly, waiting with bated breath for what he’s going to say next.

“Our time here is ending.” John continues. “Now that the winter season has passed, and the threat against us has been eliminated, we have to move on to what comes next. I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few weeks thinking about what’s going to happen next, about what direction our lives are going to go. The easiest option is of course going back to the way things were before, going back to the military, living out our lives as we always planned.”

His gaze drops to you. You’re avoiding looking at him, instead focused hard on the checkers box still on the coffee table. You’re waiting for the shoe to drop, for him to say that is what you’re going back to. You’ll be a military pack, you’ll be a military wife, watching them go and waiting for them to go home. Maybe he’ll be nice and let you live off base, or at least in better housing outside of the barracks. Maybe he’ll bring you back here every so often so you can enjoy the sea.

“But…”

That word piques your interest. ‘But’ means something is following, usually something contradictory. Something opposite of what was just said. Your mother used to say “if you follow a statement with the word ‘but’, you don’t mean what you said at all.” You try not to have hope. You try not to think too hard on that ‘but.’

“That’s not entirely fair to all of us.” He continues, still looking at you. “I made a promise that things would change, and I’ve broken that promise over and over again. So I’ve taken it upon myself to make sure things do change.” He takes a step closer to you.

The folder appears in your line of sight. He’s holding it out to you. Your hand shakes as you lift it, closing your fingers around the thick paper. He relinquishes his hold on it, dropping his hand as soon as you have a grip on it. He takes a step back, all of them watching you as you hold the folder.

The plastic clip catches on your finger but you ignore it as you flip them open, reaching in to grab the stack of papers. It’s a thick stack, the papers shaking just slightly as you free them.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you flip them over so you can read them. Your eyes trail over the top, a mix of letters and numbers that mean something unknown to you. It’s a form of some sort, holding John’s information. More information than you’ve ever seen about your alpha.

Your brow furrows as you stare at it. “I don’t know what this is.”

John shifts on his feet. “Consider it a letter of resignation, of sorts.”

Your eyes snap up to him at those words. You know what that means. Your eyes dart between him and the stack of papers, back and forth in disbelief. Letter of resignation?

“Cap, you’re-” Kyle starts but he can’t finish before you cut him off.

“You’re retiring?” Your voice displays just as much disbelief as you’re feeling.

Please don’t let it be a joke. Please don’t let it be a lie.

John nods. “Yes.” He shifts on his feet again. He’s nervous, something you never thought you’d see. “I always thought I’d spend my entire life in the service, until I was forced to retire or I died in the field. Then things changed. This pack was formed, we were given the gift of an omega.” He turns to you again. “I know how much living this life has drained you. These last few months we’ve spent here have proven that to me. You don’t deserve to be forced to wait on us, live the life you don’t want in favor of us living the life we do. You deserve to have comfort and security in knowing your alpha will always be here for you.”

Tears gather in your eyes as you continue to stare at the paperwork. Letter of resignation. He’s really doing it. He’s really going to retire. It’s not some trick, some lie, some sort of dream. He’s going to put aside what he wants in favor of what you want. For the first time you’re going to get a chance to live out a life outside the military.

You’re getting what you want.

“John…” You breathe, fighting back a sob.

He kneels down in front of you, cupping your face with his hand. “You deserve to live a happy life. I’m going to be the one to give that to you.”

You lean into his touch, pressing your nose into his wrist. Petrichor, rich earth, the forest.

The scent of your alpha, the scent of home.

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[shroomyv]

ᢉ𐭩GOOD BOY(‘S) [1]

Pairing: mark grayson x sinister mark x Mohawk mark x viltrumite mark x F!reader (god damn)

Synopsis: been awhile since the invincible war ended. A few of them ended up being captured in your world and kept in the prisons. Cecil allows you to visit them and (clearly) has not a damn clue as to what you’re saying or doing with them. Usually, it’d be complete chaos and nothing would change or happen in the room. However, you finally try something new with them…all of them…(should be good to mention here that you have powers…if u didn’t you’d honestly be stupid going into that room with confidence 🧍🏾‍♀️)

Warnings: story will lead to smut, slightly suggestive, harsh words (like bitch, pussy, or slut), not proofread, some corny dialogue (bear with me pls)

W.c: 2,086 (rlly doing my big one)

A/N: (there’s alot I have to say so pls bear with me 😭) first off, thank all of u for all the constant support on my other fics and even my shitty little doodles I posted. Means a lot to me. This is my first series/series writing and it’s also the first fic I’ve made with multiple ppl speaking let alone mark variants. So I’m begging you, please bear with me. If anything is overly fucking terrible or bad feel free to dm me advice. Also I’ll be making a master list soon for all my writings. Or wtv. This is part one to the series and it’ll get super smutty in the next one so I hope u js enjoy this one for now. It’ll be meh…(I highkey think it’s bad but wtv)

Long after the Invincible War, you were still intrigued by all the versions of your boyfriend that had come into your world to reek havoc and chaos. Most were dead, some were in prison, and some were thrown into whatever place they went to. Being a superpowered scientist under Cecil had its perks–you got to not only examine and see these variants, but you also got to speak to them (only with the supervision of your world's Mark of course). Your visits grew more and more frequent to them, it went from once a month, to once a week, to 3 times a week. They had memorized the times you visited, the clack of your heels, and your pen clicking before you entered their cell each time.

Your Mark always complained–sometimes it was genuine concern for your safety and reasoning, other times, it was clear and blatant jealousy. 

“Why do you always want to go see those bastards, they almost destroyed the entire world. Not only that one of them almost crushed you to fucking death! If this gets too bad we're not seeing them again…” he was annoyed–making good and fair points. Sadly, you were too stubborn to attempt to listen to them. 

“You've almost crushed me to death before,” you said with a shrug as you kept walking down the long hall getting ready to get to the cell that held the marks. 

“WHAT!? When was this?” Mark had stopped for a second now having genuine concern as he hadn't remembered ever doing that. He tried his best to make sure you were protected from anything and everything.

“You crushed me plenty of times in bed–it's ok though because I've crushed you back just as much so we're even.” you had one smug ass smirk on your face seeing Mark's annoyed one before you two finally made it to the room. Before you could swipe your keycard to enter the room, Mark grabbed your arm having you stop and listen to what he had to say. “I'm serious babe…let them get out of line and we aren't seeing them again, they'll just rot in here till Cecil finds something to do with them.” 

You used your free hand, swiping the keycard as the door opened. You turned to your mark lifting his chin with your pen as he looked prepared to hear whatever you had to say. 

“I will decide when this research is over. However, you know if you want it to truly end and for me to stay out of this cell, you would only need to tell Cecil you won't accompany me anymore. Until you do that…we're continuing.” 

You were stern and stubborn, meaning every single word you said. You finally pulled the pen down—giving his cheek a soft kiss before walking into the cell.

“Well, we see who wears the pants in your little relationship.” The mark with the mohawk said before he just started laughing trying to bother and mock your mark as best as he could. 

“Hey well at least I get to leave here, I'm not locked in a fucking cell with my arms hanging up!” your mark snarled back–getting closer to Mohawk Mark as they glared each other down.

Sinister Mark cut into the conversation, having a lot worse to say about your mark and his “submission” to you. 

“Hey, does she fuck you too? I just wanna get a full scope on how pussy you are! God, you're pathetic…weak…” 

They were being little assholes ganging up against your mark, all besides the viltrumite one. He was just silent, observing your behaviors. As those 3 bickered,  you walked up to him with crossed arms.

“Nothing to say?” You asked leaning in closer to his face. He backed up as best as he could, struggling to even move a bit because of his restraints but he found small ways. 

“No…bitch…” he said before scrunching up his lips. You just leaned into him closer and closer knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Don’t your people have a thing for respecting higher-ups? Am I not higher up right now?” You were absolutely smug watching as his expression kind of dropped. He knew you were right and he hated every bit about it. 

The cell was silent now…the other marks wondered why he stopped fighting back, falling silent. 

“Don’t tell me you're all pussy now too!?” Mohawk Mark had said in a snarky tone. Your mark was walking up to you to pull you back from him. You raised your hand stopping him from coming closer as you used your other hand, softly rubbing viltrumite Mark'sk'sace. 

He jolted from your touch for a second—not being used to anything like it at all. However, he had been in that cold cell for days, weeks even, with no warmth whatsoever. He melted into your hand as you kept rubbing it softly—he felt odd…like he had never felt before. He released soft huffs the whole time until you finally stepped back. 

“W..wait-“ he exclaimed trying to get your attention again. Before he could even say what he wanted, sinister Mark butted in.

“What the hell did you just do to him!? He’s never been like that ever!” 

Your mark wanted to be filled in as well, waiting for your response.

“I just touched 'em relax.” You were honestly shocked yourself. 

“C'monn…let’s go, your mark said wanting to get the hell out of there. The other marks were getting angry and you were touching another mark…one that wasn’t yours—it made him a bit jealous. 

                                      

“Wait wait…I wanna something…” you said with a grin as you rushed to Mohawk Mark. He looked a bit annoyed but intrigued. You drew closer and closer as the other marks watched once again—it’s all they could do…

“Listen whore, I’m not your mark…so hands off.” He said in a snarky tone. You just kept moving your hands towards his face not giving a damn, you were testing every ounce of patience he had.

“I will fucking bite you! I promise it…” Mohawk Mark tried to move his head back as quickly as he could to get away from your hand. Eventually, it landed right on his forehead before moving upward, softly stroking his hair. He tried to bite you for a second so you used your powers. With a hard glare from your eyes, his body was paralyzed in mere seconds as you rubbed it softly. You released your hold on his body just as fast as you used it.

You kept stroking his head, you saw him moving his head forward as best as he could so you could keep going. Your other hand reached up to his face, squishing it softly before you began to stroke it. He let out a noise of pure satisfaction…a soft moan. As soon as he realized, you backed up satisfied with your work on his behavior. He went from snarling and snapping to melting in your hand.

Your mark grabbed your shoulder, making a notation to get the hell out of there. You just gave him a soft kiss trying to keep him satisfied as you had one more mark to deal with. You knew your mark was getting jealous quickly so you had to hurry it up.

As soon as you walked over to sinister mark in his restraints he spat on your face. The other marks watched waiting to see what happened your mark dashed over to you as he began a screaming match with sinister mark. 

Ignoring them and all their noise, you just spat right back on his face as the room fell silent. You were even now—the only difference was you could wipe the spit off of your face but he couldn’t get it off of his. Your hand reached up to his face as he prepared to bite you but you flicked his nose before continuing. You rubbed his hair—making it messy in mere seconds before you looked him dead in the eyes, smiling warmly.

“I promise you, if you ever spit on my face again I will break your face in.”

Your mark was just frozen in the spot waiting for this interaction to finish. Sinister Mark's eyes widened a bit before going back to normal—he was surprised at how you could look so gentle while threatening him. 

“Yes bitch…” he said in a snarky tone trying to get some power back in the situation. You smiled before pinching and twisting at his nose. He couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.

“Huh? What’d you say?” You waited for him to change his manner of speaking. Your mark reached to pull your arm down as you 2 shared a look. He was trying to figure out what you were even doing but you gave him a glance that said you could handle it.

“Yes…ma’am” sinister Mark said in an annoyed tone this was basically his version of surrendering defeat. Your hand went to his face stroking it just like you did to the others. At first he acted like he didn’t give a single fuck about you or your touch—seconds later he was melted into your cheek moving his own face to have it happen faster. You stroked his face slower and began scratching his hair as Mohawk Mark began complaining how that wasn’t fair. Sinister mark was losing himself—lifting his chin to have that touch and rubbed to. He bit his lip trying to keep in any sounds he would’ve made but eventually one slipped out.

“F…fuck…” he moaned out roughly before you moved your hand away from him

“Good boy.” You said back with bliss in your voice. You honestly felt aroused by the fact you had 4 Marks folding for you just at the simple touch of your hand and sternness in your voice.

“God…what did she do to us…” Viltrumite Mark said sounding embarrassed or even frustrated that that even happened. The other Marks (sinister and Mohawk) just told him to “fuck off” as they kept their heads down in a bit of shame. They were absolutely in shock at how they folded that fast but knew they wanted more. They were pissed that they clearly weren’t getting more.

You had them fold enough for the day. Plus, your Mark looked like he wanted to snap sinister Mark's neck for spitting on you. He was tired of being in that damn room for the day. Your mark grabbed you by the waist giving you a look that said “You needed to leave” You just nodded and let him lead you out of the cell. You and your mark left the cell making your way out of the building. Mark was flying you 2 home as he wanted to talk about what the hell happened. 

“So…what was that..” he asked in a genuine and jealous tone. He wanted to know what was up with all of it. Why did you guys keep going back, why were you touching them, how did you make them fold that easily? He wanted answers…

“Honestly…I don’t know. I didn't even think it’d work on the viltrumite one but as soon as it did I just had to try it on the rest of them and it worked. Guess you’re just weak for me in every universe?” You gave the best answer you could to your mark waiting for his response.

“Not gonna lie…I was a bit jealous. They practically killed everyone and now they wanted to fold just cause you touched them!” Mark exclaimed before you kissed his face softly. He had calmed down quickly just from your lips. 

“Relax... you're the one who gets to take me home. You win either way. However...I do need you to take me back there tomorrow. It’s something I wanna do with you there. All of you…” you had something a little sinister and against the rules on your mind.

“Again!? What is it…I’m so sick of that place…” your mark wanted to know what you’d do if you went back. He was tired of going there and honestly was ready to never go back again. However, he was trying his best to trust your judgment and see where it’d go. 

“Don’t worry about it…just know that you’ll have fun. All of you, trust me. You said with a smile before Mark finally landed, bringing you two to your house. You had plans…foul plans…and you couldn’t wait to put them into action tomorrow. 

[chanelrolls]

Love & Deepspace Men reacting to you giving them head while they drive

warnings. mdni, nsfw, explicit content, sexual themes, blowjob, dick-sucking

pairings. sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier, caleb (separate) x reader

notes. it's my first time to write a full-blown nsfw piece so please excuse me if it doesn't come as good. anyway, requests are very much open.

SYLUS

Sylus is focused, one hand on the wheel, the other resting against the gear shift—relaxed, poised, in control. Or at least, he was.

You lean in, lips ghosting over his thigh, barely a whisper of contact. At first, there’s no reaction—no sharp inhale, nor a startled twitch. Just the steady, unwavering presence of him, ever composed.

You press another kiss, this time firmer, lingering just a little longer against the fabric of his pants. His grip tightens. "You’re playing a dangerous game, kitten."

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. His leg shifts slightly, as if to subtly press closer to your lips, but before you can take the invitation, his fingers suddenly catch your chin, tilting your face toward him.

He doesn’t look away from the road, but his grip is firm, thumb brushing against your lower lip with deliberate slowness. "If you’re going to test my patience," he murmurs, voice impossibly low, "at least be prepared for what happens when you lose."

"By all means, don't let me stop you," Sylus would purr, a wicked glint in his eyes as he watched you work on his shackles. "In fact, I insist you continue. Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can really do." He'd chuckle darkly, the sound rumbling through his chest.

Sylus would make no move to stop you, instead watching with a critical eye as if evaluating your performance. His breathing would remain steady, his heart rate barely increasing, a testament to his ironclad self-control. He was Sylus, after all. Nothing could ruffle his feathers, least of all a little roadside dalliance.

"Faster," he'd command, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Put your back into it, sweetheart. I know you can do better than that." His fingers would tighten in your hair, guiding your movements, pushing you to take him even deeper. "That's it, just like that."

He'd grip the steering wheel harder, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to surge forward, to take over, to claim his pleasure for himself.

And when he can't hold himself back anymore, he forces the tip to rub against your throat, and you wince in response, but he doesn't bugde, no, he keeps you there. "Keep going," He'd say, teasingly rubbing his tip against your throat, not caring about the way that you're already tearing up. "Don't you dare stop now. I want to see you finish what you started."

And then, suddenly—the car swerves. You barely register the motion before he pulls onto a quiet side road, the tires crunching against gravel as he slows to a stop.

Then, finally, he turns to you fully—one hand still on the wheel, the other trailing down your jaw, tracing the line of your throat before gripping the base of your neck. His touch is light, teasing, but there’s an unmistakable warning behind it.

"Congratulations," he murmurs, tilting your face up, "You got my attention."

ZAYNE

Zayne drives with precise, almost mechanical ease. One hand rests on the wheel, the other draped over the console between you.

Your fingers skim along his thigh first, light and teasing, tracing patterns against the fine material of his slacks. He doesn’t react. Instead, he exhales steadily, like someone who anticipated your next move before you even thought to make it.

Lips grazing over the fabric, the warmth of your breath seeping through, so close yet still not quite enough. Then, his fingers flex. "Do you think this is wise?"

A few beats pass in silence, and you almost think he’s going to ignore it completely, let it roll off his shoulders like he does with most things. But then, suddenly, his hand moves.

Not in warning. Not in restraint.

But to press you down. Fingers threading into your hair, keeping you close, firmly and deliberately, like he’s giving you a choice but already knows what you’ll pick.

"You're trying very hard to test me tonight," he murmurs, and now his voice is lower, rougher, something just a touch undone.

And when you finally took him into your mouth, he'd let out a low, sharp inhale through his teeth, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain control. He'd say your name, voice strained, "we're in the middle of a..." He'd trail off, his words lost in a soft groan as you took him deeper.

Despite his initial surprise, Zayne would make no move to stop you, instead trying to focus on the road ahead. He was a pragmatic man, after all, and he knew the dangers of distracted driving. But damn if your sloppy mouth wasn't making it hard to concentrate.

"Careful," he'd warn, his voice a low rumble. "I don't want to cause an accident." But his words were undercut by the way he rolled his hips slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

Suddenly, he lets his grip loosen, fingers tracing the nape of your neck before slipping away entirely.

And then—just as quickly—he accelerates. The car surges forward, the sudden force pressing you back against your seat, "That's enough," the air shifting around you as he drives faster, sharper, more reckless than before.

He exhales slowly, smoothing a hand over his tie, regaining that signature poise—but when he finally speaks again, his voice carries that same unshakable authority as always. "Seatbelt on," A small pause, then, "You’ll need it."

RAFAYEL

He’s humming some tune under his breath, something slow. Then, your hand moves first, fingers gliding over the firm muscle of his thigh, innocently enough that he doesn’t react right away. But when your lips followed after, pressing into the fabric of his slacks, his hum falters.

Then stops entirely. For a moment, all you hear is the steady hum of the engine. The way his grip subtly tightens on the wheel. Then—

"You’re a real menace, y’know that?"

His voice is airy, light—like he’s amused, pretending to be unfazed. But you don’t miss the way his breath hitches when you press another kiss, this time dangerously close to the inside of his thigh.

He exhales sharply, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. "Go on," he muses, tilting his head slightly, glowing eyes flicking down at you, and dark with something indulgent. "See what happens, cutie."

You know exactly what will happen. Because Rafayel is all bark until he’s bitten. Until he’s whimpering, breathless, fingers trembling with the effort of keeping control he never really had in the first place.

And when you do press forward, when you start to eat him out, he lets out a sound—soft, bitten off, caught between a laugh and something much filthier.

Rafayel lets out a startled gasp as your lips wrapped around his sensitive cock, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "H-hey, what do you think you're doing?" as if he didn't challenge you outright.

He tangles his fingers in your hair, not pushing you down, but not pulling you off either, torn between his desire and his stubborn pride. "I never said you could just... just do this, you know," His nose wrinkles in a mixture of annoyance and arousal. "Such a bold little thing, taking what you want without asking..."

But even as he spoke, Rafayel's body betrayed him, his cock twitching and throbbing against your tongue, growing harder by the second. He bites his lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to spill out while you swirled your tongue around the sensitive head, lapping up the bead of pre-cum that had already formed at the tip.

"Nngh... y-you're not going to distract me that easily," Rafayel insisted, even as his grip on your hair tightened, his fingers trembling slightly. "I'm not just going to let you... ah! ...just take control like this, without even asking me first!" He tried to sound indignant, all the while rocking his hips to match your movements.

"Y-you're... hah... you're not going to win this way," Rafayel panted, his face flushed and his eyes glazed over with lust. "I won't let you... just... just have your way with me like this..." But even as he spoke, his head fell back against the headrest, his eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure entirely consumed him.

XAVIER

The night stretches long ahead, the road open, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across Xavier’s sharp profile. His hand rests on the wheel, fingers drumming idly, while the other is perched casually on the gear shift.

Leaning in, you press your lips against the inside of his thigh, soft and fleeting, just enough for him to feel it. Then, his whole body goes rigid.

His foot presses down a little too hard on the gas before he corrects, rolling his shoulders back like it was nothing, like you didn’t just do that.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "Don’t start." His voice is firm, clipped—but there’s something beneath it, something unraveling at the edges.

You don’t listen. You never do. Another kiss, slower this time, your breath warm against denim.

His fingers tighten around the wheel. "I said—" He stops, inhaling sharply through his nose. A slow, controlled breath—like he’s trying to center himself.

But then he does something unexpected. He shifts in his seat, just slightly—just enough for his thigh to press closer against your lips.

Your lips curl. "Thought you said not to start," you murmur, letting the heat of your breath fan against the fabric of his jeans.

Xavier smiles to glance at you—a short, breathy huff coming out of his lips, almost like he hates that you caught him. "I also told myself I wouldn’t let you get to me."

He keeps driving. Still in control. Still composed. But you can feel it—the tension in his shoulders, the way his body is slowly but surely giving in. "...Keep going," he murmurs, almost absently, like he’s already resigned himself to the inevitable.

He would keep himself unnervingly still and eyes on the road while you lap up his girth, but barely seeing it. "When have you gotten good... at this?"

As Xavier would reach his peak, he'd let out a sharp, hissed intake of breath through clenched teeth, his body going rigid for a moment. He'd rasp, your name a little more than a breathless whisper.

Then, with a sudden, violent jerk of his hips, he'd bury himself deep in your throat, his thick, hot seed erupting forth in thick, heavy spurts.

Xavier's eyes would flutter shut, his head falling back against the headrest as he rode out the intense waves of his climax.

A low, guttural moan would rumble in his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that seemed to echo through the confines of the car. His fingers would tighten in your hair, holding you in place as he emptied himself into your eager mouth, ensuring you took every last drop of his essence

As the final, weak spurts dribbled out, Xavier would slump back in his seat, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and a faint flush colored his usually pallid cheeks. He'd shoot you a heated look, his eyes half-lidded but intense as they raked over your face. "Swallow it."

CALEB

Caleb would react to a sudden blowjob while driving with a mix of intense arousal and possessive desire lurking beneath the surface.

His eyes would flash with a fierce, hungry light as he glanced down at you, grip tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

"Oh, you're brave, huh?," he'd growl, your name falling from his lips like a dark promise. "You're playing dirty, my love."

Despite his words, he made no move to stop you, and instead of grabbing your hair, his veiny hand finds your nape, holding you in place as you worked over his throbbing cock. "Silly girl, trying to distract me like this..."

Caleb's hips would start to rock, fucking into your hot mouth with a growing sense of urgency. "Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good," he'd pant, his voice rough and strained with pleasure.

As his climax approached, Caleb's eyes would darken, a fierce, almost manic light burning in their depths. "You're mine, you're... mine." he'd rasp, his voice a dark, dangerous rumble. "Only mine. And I won't let anyone, not even you, take that away from me." He'd tighten his grip on your nape, a touch of pain mingling with the pleasure.

He always had a habit of continuously praising and showering you possessive nothings while reaching for his climax.

With a harsh, animalistic cry, Caleb would reach his peak, his hot seed spurting forth to fill your mouth. "Fuck, yes, take it all!" Even pushing himself deeper to the point you wouldn't be able to breathe anymore.

And after he cums? "I'm not done yet." He pulls over the side of the road, and gets on you. Literally.

[onsomenewsht]

And through the clouds, I see love shine

About when, on a Wednesday in a restaurant at Barcelona, you watch it begin again

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: 12.8k

》 fight a losing battle [idiom]: also known as “losing game”, to try hard to do something when there is no chance that you will succeed, a failing effort or activity 

Your last relationship ends so badly that you consider abstinence from everything – processed sugar, alcohol, and even people. A period of deep cleansing, as if you could purify every cell of your body, like a celebrity spiraling from rehab to full-blown identity crisis.

This emotional state explains why you find yourself on a one-way flight to Barcelona, all your things crumbled in a backpack.  A rash impulse led you to declutter your belongings, a wishful attempt of turning into a completely new person just because your closet is now half what it used to be.

The decision to straight-up flee is rushed and quite terrifying, much like many of your recent choices.

Elena, your best friend since you were barely old enough to share made-up stories and Barbie-like careers, thinks you’re going mental. She nearly cries when you decide to donate your vintage Christian Lacroix jacket, but you’re convinced it’s the only way to get a new lease on life, so she mourns in silence.

The loudest reaction comes from your brother, who, if you could be mature enough to admit it, is the only voice of reason that almost resonates in your head. 

Almost.

Despite your stubbornness, you accept the offer of hospitality from one of his university friends, who gives away a spare room. You don’t plan on staying in a hotel for gods know how long, and you certainly don’t have the patience to search for an apartment. You’re not completely out of mind, if they want to help, so be it. 

Barcelona is brighter and feels as welcoming as you hoped, though that might just be the nicer weather and the fact you’re far from your problems. And your ex. 

The first month flies by in a rush of Catalan cafeterias, art galleries, and little boutiques that refill both your closet and your spirit. 

The people here are kind enough to put up with your attempts to speak the language, humoring you since you’re oh-so-sure that eleven consecutive days on a passive-aggressive app have made you fluent.

The places you visit and the ones strangers recommend are loud enough to ignore the voices of reason in your ear that start to sound a lot like your brother’s.

Still, there’s only so much one can do to avoid responsibilities and self-consciousness.

“You need a job”, Ricardo states one morning, finding you in the kitchen eating cold pizza, still in the clothes you wore two nights ago.

Your closet isn’t as limited anymore.

“I’ve saved enough money to enjoy my vacation, thanks for your concern”

“I thought that was the money saved to buy a house with your ex”

“I do not have an ex nor a house to worry about, do I?”

As soon as the pizza starts to taste like regret, you’re ready to end the conversation to sleep the rest of day away. 

Ricardo means well, you know that. 

He’s a nice guy and a good roommate, but, like your brother, he’s overprotective and likes to gossip a little too much. Sometimes, it’s surprising how much he knows about you. Most of the time, it’s just annoying.

“I’m want to say– maybe a routine could be good for you”

“I have a routine”, you retort, knowing it’s a fat lie.

You’re out of the bed before eleven only if you didn’t sleep through the night before, wandering around the city with no real destination until something, somehow, catches your attention.

It’s not a bad thing per se, but it’s not a sustainable lifestyle.

“You quit a well-paid accounting job, right?”

“Ricardo, I swear, I’m this close to reporting you for stalking”

His laugh is too loud this early in the morning, but the comfort of bantering with someone who knows you is too familiar to ignore. Even if most of his insight comes from your nosy brother.

They both need to find a hobby that doesn’t involve judging your questionable life choices.

He sips his coffee while studying you, assessing how risky it would be to keep pushing the subject.

Apparently, he feels brave enough.

“My friends’ restaurant could use some help”

~

You’re not sure if Ricardo downplayed it or if he’s just blissfully unaware, but his friends don’t need some help – they need a miracle. 

That’s what happens when you get scammed by your bookkeeper. 

Despite not being really familiar with Spanish tax laws and regulation, it’s clear as the day someone exploited every possible loophole in the profitable business run by three way-too-trusting men. The truth becomes evident as you examine their accounting ledger, your frown deepening with each passing moment.

You have been to their restaurant before, and have loved it.

The place is cosy and carefully maintained. The food is prepared by a grumpy man from Puerto Rico named Paco, who, after twenty years in Barcelona, learned just enough cursing in Catalan to run the kitchen. Local bands play live on the weekend and someone’s mom made sure everyone is nice and well mannered. The worn wooden tables are witness of countless shared meals. 

Pedro and Paul, the other two owners, can only be described as a comedy duo with a really questionable sense of style and even worse jokes. But they’re nice enough, definitely good company when you have a bad day. They can turn it upside down so quickly, for the better or the worst.

However, Ricardo tells you how much the restaurant means for his friends and the local community, guilt-tripping you into helping them to fix their finances.

The truth is, you love math and numbers so much that a challenge like this excites you more than it’s appropriate to admit.

Hence, you agree to help them for far less money you could have asked anyone in the same situation.

They take it as a promise to make sure the business keeps running and organise a dinner with way too many people to celebrate your help.

“I’ve barely started looking into it, Pedro”, you complain, not used to such enthusiasm.

“¡Cállate y bebe tu sangría!”

You meet Alba that same night.

She’s nice and quick-witted, no one is safe from her clever remarks. It feels nice, the way she makes sure you’re included when everyone seems to forget you’re still learning Spanish from a green bird on your phone, and that, in most conversations, you relate more to vibes than actual words.

Flirting is a universal language, though.

If her hand brushes on your arm a couple of times you make sure to smile and get closer, and if you lean into her with the excuse of needing a translation she makes sure to whisper right into your ear. There’s a note in her voice that makes you feel at ease.

Of course, Ricardo ruins everything.

“I’m starting to think you’re running from tax collectors, not your ex”

It’s a good joke, you know it is nothing more than that. But it suddenly reminds you how messy your life is and how out of place you feel sometimes.

Not just far away from home, but also far away from everything familiar.

A job for a company you hated but paid good money; friends you didn’t see as you’d liked, but who knew damn well when to drag you out of your apartment – and out of your own head. A boyfriend who barely tolerated your love, but somehow always managed to say and do the right things at the right time.

Every morning, you wake up knowing what to wear for work, what numbers to punch into the computer to get the needed results, and how to act to be sure you’re not too much.

You’re not running away from just your ex, you’re running away from your life as known until finding out about the cheating. 

“¿Todo bien?”, Alba asks, noticing how you miss the opportunity to jab Ricardo. 

It takes you a moment to register her reassuring hand on your arm and the talks moving to a completely different topic.

“Yeah, sorry, just tired”

“You better get used to the Spanish nightlife”

“It’s pretty much all I’m doing so far”, you admit, slowly sipping a beer and making sure your annoying roommate doesn’t hear a word about this.

The rest of the dinner passes without too much trouble, despite not remembering most of the names and following even less of the conversations. 

Alba stays close and you blame the spicy food for the way your face reddens when she bids her goodbye with three kisses and a promise to meet up with less people.

“It’s a surprise”, Ricardo comments, his grin spreading across his face as soon as you settle onto the couch to debrief the day’s events.

It’s starting to look a lot like a new routine, a tradition in the making.

“What? Something my brother didn’t mention?”

“¡Ay, claro!”

“I hate you”

“I had no idea Alba is your type”

You have to give credit where due, he displays incredible reflexes. He dodges the pillow you throw at him, your punch barely grazes his arm, and your kick misses his shin by a mile.

To be honest with yourself, you’re not really sure who is your type. 

Not even getting in the mind-space to think about your ex, the past relationships you care about to recall all look pretty different. There’s no consistent pattern, not a clear preference in haircuts or any kind of colours, not a style that catches your attention more than another. 

The only thing most of your exes have in common is tiring you to the bones and leaving your life making you trust less and less in others. 

Maybe you do have a type.

~

It’s not a date, you both agree on that.

She doesn’t ask about the infamous ex, she’s good company and even a nicer distraction.

But your mind drifts and, as you recount the highlights of how that relationship crumpled in slow motion, it becomes clear as the day you shouldn’t be with someone until you’ve committed to a good therapist.

It’s not fair to anyone, but it’s definitely not fair to Alba.

You kiss her anyway, and she makes you promise to let her be your first date as soon as you’re ready to get back into the game again.

~

“Ricardo told me your ex is un cabrón”

If not for the possibility of blemishing your otherwise spotless record, you could have shoved Pedro down the hill you’re currently struggling to climb, losing too much dignity. 

The guy looks like he had one beer too many, but he’s surprisingly in shape and apparently unaffected by the whole hike so far. 

“Am I the only topic of conversation he has?”, you ask, mostly to buy a few more seconds to catch your breath.

“Creo que sí”

You raise the finger as you outpace him to keep going.

The sun has set, casting a warm, golden hue across the clear Barcelona sky. Despite Pedro knocking on your door when it was barely socially accessible to be at someone’s place, it takes the two of you more time than necessary to reach this point of the trail.

Not close enough to the top yet, but definitely too late to turn back without regrets. 

It’s mostly his fault.

The view is impressive, and the Catalan knows too many fascinating details to not be amazed by the nature around.

“¿Estás bien?

“Cabrón is a nice word”

“It’s not”

“No, it’s– I mean it’s not a bad enough word to describe him”, you clarify with a faint smile as Pedro slows his pace.

Your final destination is just a few steps away.

It may be the pleasant company, a good friend you’ve discovered in an unexpected place at the most unexpected time of your life. It may be the warm rays of sunshine that tickle your skin or the ache making your legs feel alive. It may be the weight on your chest, the one that crushed good intentions and caused too many sleepless nights, now becoming smaller under a new sense of resolve.

It may be for many different reasons, but for the first time in more than you’re comfortable looking back, it feels better.

“It was a good relationship”

He gives you a moment, sitting on the slightly damp grass next to your sprawled figure.

“It was good, until it was really bad. But it’s hard to do anything about it when you’re doing such an impressive job at hiding all the signs”

“A bad relationship can’t be blamed on just one person”, he tries to reason.

“It can”

“Guapa, mira–”

“No, it can. He was controlling, aggressive, and incredibly talented at making me take all the blame and the shame”, you admit, for the first time out loud, “My only fault was pretending to ignore when I finally saw it all for what it really was”

As you gather the strength to rise to a more dignified position, you almost expect Pedro to hug you or be the over affectionate Spanish stereotype he usually is.

Instead, he’s looking somewhere away in the sky, pensive.

You feel the need to reassure him, “I’m fine now, I–”

“No, lo siento, lo siento”, he turns with a small, yet genuine smile, “We don’t know each other that well”

“You’re hurting me now, I thought we were friends”

“We are, tonta!”

Pedro raises and his large hands, marked with tiny cuts, extend to pick you up. He paves the way down the hill with no words, and for the first time since you meet the man, the silence it’s a surprise. 

It’s not uncomfortable, maybe just a little unsettling.

And short-lived.

“We don’t know each well”

“You already said that”

He shoves you playfully, not impressed by your attitude, but used to it.

“Lo que quiero decir es que– you’re a good person, I can tell, even if we don’t know each other for long”

“Don’t get soft on my right now”

“You’re a good person and you love good, you have to keep loving”, he states, so casually, “Once you know love, you should never try to forget”

~

“At this point, I’m pretty sure you hit your head hard enough to go mental and somehow no one noticed”

“I miss you so much, Elena”

Your phone is precariously balanced on a glass of wine as you cook a recipe Paco scribbled on a piece of paper. In Catalan. 

It makes less sense than his finance decisions, but you’ll take it.

Your best friend’s face is half out of frame but you can clearly point out every step of her beauty routine. It’s a grueling and painfully long process, her boyfriend is way more patient than you about it.

But tonight Ricardo is out for his bi-weekly pottery class, and you’re happy to indulge her just for the sake of spending some time together, even if it’s through a screen.

Not like there’s a slight chance you’d say it out loud.

“What are you trying to cook?”, the eyebrow in frame raises skeptically.

“No idea”, you admit, coming to the conclusion the number you’re looking at is five and there’s no way this dish needs so many onions.

“Good, now, let’s track back to your mental instability”

“And you ask why I am in different country?”

The wasp she lets out is so loud, and the silence that follows is so deafening you look at the screen to make sure the call is still on. She can be so dramatic.

“Don’t joke about it, I’m still grieving”

“I’m still alive”

“Barely”, she mutters.

Elena is a good friend, despite the theatrics. 

When the world seems a little too much to handle, she turns into a safe space for you to be at peace. When you’re overthinking the stupidest choices, she always has a comforting, new point of view. 

To people who don’t have the privilege to know her well enough, she may look shallow and too noisy. The truth is, you’ve never met someone so aware of herself and her life that she perfectly understands how to give due weight to even the smallest things. 

And she doesn’t keep quiet, she loves loud and proud. 

You learned to hold yourself back. You were forced to.

That’s the biggest lesson she’s still teaching you.

“Just saying, you’re surrounded by hot, Spanish people–”

“Happens when in Spain”

“You’re allowed to have fun!”

“I have plenty, thank you very much”

A strange smell comes out of the pan as the lid is lifted, prompting you to close it and pretend it’s not even there for the rest of the night. Not planning to call a poison center, ordering takeout is how you opt to end this cooking attempt.

If Elena thinks you paused the video to piss her off, it is on her.

When your best friend’s face pops up on the screen again it’s so serious you’re tempted to hang up for real.

“I mean it in a good way, don’t get me wrong, but taking a leave of absence and flying to Barcelona is the most selfish thing I witnessed you do in forever”

“I’m actually thinking of quitting for good and going freelance”

“See?”, she gushes, although she can’t be taken seriously with a panda-shaped face mask on, “You like to do your nerd-numbers-shit again, you’re trying new things, even if you clearly can’t be trusted in the kitchen–”

“Fuck you, that man can cook, but for sure can’t write”

“You’re making friends, not as amazing as me, but we’ll take it!”

Trying to argue could be useless and, honestly, you have no arguments.

“You’re fine, you’re doing good”, she smiles, and you miss her a little bit more.

This time you say it out loud, and she cries.

~

The guys are planning something.

By now, you know them well enough to sense trouble the moment you step into the restaurant.

Paco wears a grin that’s almost creepy, a beam blasted across his face, while Pedro is cleaning the tables with unnecessary vigour and his usual commitment is taken to an unusual level.

They’re clearly waiting for something to happen, lingering around as you try to explain to Paul, the musketeer you pointed as the most reliable when money is on the line, how to delay a payment reminder.

“Okay, what is wrong with them?”, you ask, trying to recall a single reason why you put up with these people’s ethics.

You only need one.

“No te entiendo”

“Tú me entiendes perfectamente”

“Your español is getting so good, ¿lo sabes?”, Pedro chimes in, and you’re sure whatever they want, you’re not going to like it. 

Paul is usually the voice of reason, the emotionally adult one. Why is he looking at you like he’s about to commit the worst betrayal?

“We were thinking–”

“I’m scared when you guys think”

“We are allies, feminists, and strong supporters of women in male dominated fields, equality–”

“Please, shut up”, you interrupt as if the conversation is physically hurting you.

“Barça is playing the Copa on Saturday. We organise una fiesta every year when they come back, es una tradición”, Pedro cuts in, feeling like the best way to get to the point is to dive straight into it.

“What if they lose?”

“Ellas no pierden”, Paul’s voice is so final you don’t dare to object.

“Cool, fine, why are you acting like this party is something I’ll not like?”

“We pay for it all”

It’s nice.

It is a really nice gesture, knowing how much they care about their community and their friends and apparently the women’s side of their favourite club. 

Then you remember they have a huge debt to pay up because an asshole took advantage of their kind hearts and the accounts are just starting to make sense again.

“It’s a good thing”, you admit out loud, “But–”

When Paul starts a passionate rant about the team’s season so far and how sure he is they are gonna win those trophies all over again, apparently setting a new record for the sport itself, it’s not strange to feel thrilled too.

Even Paco joins the excitement at the prospect of adding another title to the collection.

You have been in Barcelona long enough to understand football is a big deal here, and you can’t deny it’s really wonderful to see three big guys hyping up their club – women’s and men’s side alike. 

Pedro looks at you like he knows you’re about to crumble.

“They better win then”, you agree, pretending it takes a lot of thinking.

They wrap you in a group hug so welcoming you don’t have the heart to tell them the restaurant can’t really afford to pay out an entire party right now, on a weekend, literally planned for a football team and their mothers. 

You’ll make sure the numbers check out later.

You meet Alexia that same night.

Alba makes the introductions, and you shake her hand a moment too late and too long than socially acceptable.

You’re busy shifting your gaze back and forth. 

They look alike. A lot. But somehow, they’re also so different.

You make a mental note to dig up some old pictures of a younger version of yourself and your brother.

“She’s the reason this party won’t bankrupt the guys”

“I’ve heard only good things about you”, Alexia admits.

If a slight redness tints your face it’s due to the compliments, not the feeling of her eyes on you, or the way your body seems to jolt awake.

“All lies, probably”, you try to compose yourself – get a fucking grip, “They’re just impressed ‘cus they can’t count to save their lives”

The laugh that leaves the older woman’s lips is the most melodic sound you’ve ever heard. Something in the way her face lights up and her features relax makes your chest ache with a surprisingly comfortable feeling.

A desire to make her laugh again.

And that is what you do all night.

The girls are way too excited – deservedly so, after another title added to their already impressive collection. The live music is loud, the food and the drinks come in flows. You’re too busy to mentally estimate the costs.

When one of Alexia’s teammates decides you’re her new favorite person in the whole restaurant, you’re perfectly fine with it. Just because she’s funny, not because she seems to have an impressive amount of stories to tease her captain with.

When Paul hands you another beer, you sip it without a care of keeping count. Just because you’re allowed to get loose, not because you noticed Alexia is making sure everyone will not regret a drink too much tomorrow. 

When Alba drags you to the makeshift dance floor, you let yourself feel the music and the bodies around. Just because the party is definitely worth it, vibrant, not because her sister joins the group at the same time.

You go home, much later than intended, with an unfamiliar feeling prickling beneath your skin and a somehow familiar pair of eyes stuck in your head.

~

The first time you end up in the stands for a football game is purely by accident.

An unmistakable electric buzz fills the air, lingering all the way from the parking lot to the seats that seem to keep filling. Everyone is smiling and chanting, sporting just two different colours but expressing their support in an unique way. 

The games you endured watching on TV to spend a few hours with your brother as a kid can’t compare to the real thing.

You never imagined finding yourself in such a place, but when in Rome. Or, well, when in Barcelona.

It’s all on the Putella sisters, to be honest.

You meet Alba in the most unusual place you could think of, or being yourself in the first place. A sports shop.

Planning to go on the hike a stranger at the restaurant pointed out, you need appropriate trekking shoes. Since the decluttering phase is officially over, you looked up one of those obnoxious places that sell overpriced sports-related shit.

Not the kind of shop you’d picture Alba willingly entering.

“Mind you, I actually like sports”, she objects.

“Do you?”

She giggles as your head tilts in a mocking way, “Vale, I like watching more than doing the sports”

“No way!”

The bags she’s dragging out of the shop are the only thing stopping her from not-so-playfully smacking you. It’s surprisingly easy to tease each other.

She reminds you of Elena, who called this morning to discuss how to act now she discovered where her boyfriend hides the ring. As if she hasn’t been snooping around for months.

Not entirely her fault, the poor guy left the jewelry’s receipt with the car keys at the entrance.

“Are you?”, the younger woman asks.

“What?”

“A sports person”

“My brother used to kick footballs at me when we were kids, the only sport I ever pretended to be remotely interest in”

Her smile dims slightly.

For some reason, that seems to have been the wrong thing to say.

“Have you been to a Barça game yet?”

“What if I’m a Madridista?”

That’s even worse, apparently, since Alba dramatically drops the bags to gasp in shock. Her acting of a heartbreak is surprisingly convincing.

A second voice chimes in out of nowhere, “Don’t even joke about it”

Alexia’s comment is dead serious, you can tell, with just the hint of a grin on her lips as a clear giveaway that she’s more than comfortable teasing a person she barely knows.

You’re definitely not going to complain.

The hat she’s wearing hides half her face, but you can see her lighting up behind it.

“What if I’m not joking?”

“Alba, you said she is a nice person”, the midfielder complains, a huff escaping her lips as she adjusts the weight of the bags she’s carrying. 

Did they just raid the whole shop?

“Bold to you to assume I can’t be a nice person and a Madridista”

“Please, don’t fight her on this, she’s gonna be insufferable”, Alba complains, playfully rolling her eyes at her sister’s antics and your teasing.

“No, she needs to be educated. She’s coming to El Clásico with us”

As simple as that.

You find yourself in the home section of the stadium for one of the most anticipated games of the season.

Or that’s what Alexia is ranting about all the way to your seats, going off about the rivalry and basic football knowledge you have to thank your borther for drilling into your brain against your will.

It’s all worth it when her blush spreads across her face as she realises, in the middle of her fourth attempt to explain with yet another example, that you actually do know what offside is.

Alba watches the interaction closely, amused by how easy it is for you to tease Barcelana’s captain and how comfortable she seems to be around you, despite not having known each other for long.

A couple of minutes before kick-off, Alexia returns from wherever she went – one mission in mind. She takes her place on your side, handing you a Blaugrana jersey, “You can’t sit here without wearing the right colours”

Maybe wearing a white t-shirt was a bit too much.

You burst out laughing, opting to put in the item immediately to avoid upsetting the filled seats around you, “How’d you find your own at a men’s game?”

“I happen to be pretty beloved around here”

“Did you hear that, Alba? La Reina is bragging!”

The only reason she doesn’t retort is due to the referee’s whistle announcing the start of the game, followed by a surprisingly enjoyable night with the two sisters.

~

Summer in Barcelona is nothing like you pictured it.

The streets are filled with tourists, too many people crammed in too little spaces. Complaints about the crowds and the chaos drown out any excitement. You have to remind Pedro that it’s awful, but it’s good for business.

Sometimes, it’s too hot to even think of leaving the comfort of your place. Fans blow in every room because, of course, the air conditioner broke the day it was turned on. 

Sometimes, it’s so loud you don’t need to ignore the voices of doubt in your head, subdued by everything that’s happening around you.

Sometimes, it’s exactly the kind of life you can see yourself living.

Your brother came to visit for a week, spending more time teasing you with Ricardo than doing anything else. You hate it, but you missed him too much to complain.

Maybe you pulled some strings to make his dream of visiting Camp Nou come true, just so you could look cool, but then what?

He’s as happy as a kid in a candy store, and all you have to do is endure an overexcited guided tour and bribe Alexia with overpriced drinks the night after. Totally manageable.

Your therapist announces her vacation like it’s not the worst news she’ll be sharing, leaving you with tasks to occupy the time. You dutifully completed them all, never quite managing to shake the nerd label off, and, quite frankly, you pay her too much to not do her homework.

Some tasks seem a little over the top, though – signing up for a dating app is definitely not how you’ll get over your ex.

You started hanging out with a group of passionate excursionists. Perhaps a bit too excited about life in general, but nice enough to follow during their hikes.

Pedro joins when he can, most of the time, someone from the Barcelona team manages to invite themselves. 

Since you and María aren’t allowed to be on your own, Ingrid or Esme supervise. It may be an overreaction, but the last time you two were alone, you sprained your ankle and the defender got nasty cuts on her legs before the trip even started, so you can’t really judge them. 

If you say Alexia is a better hike partner than most is just to piss María.

That summer in Barcelona makes you miss your family and friends back home a little more than usual, but it’s also the first time in months that you feel like you’re actually living your life – not just letting it flow right through you. 

~

When the new school year starts, Irene and her wife come to the restaurant a couple of times before Paul suggests that you could be the perfect person to help their son with his math homework.

Your attempt to explain that you really are not qualified to teach in a different language goes completely ignored.

They’ve already tried different tutors, and Mateo seems to hate them all. You accept, mostly because of the kid’s puppy-dog eyes.

The two of you fell into an easy routine. Once a week, he would lend you basic grammar school manuals and children’s books to help with your Spanish, and you would explain math to him in the simplest way possible.

It goes well.

Mateo decides pretty soon you’re his new favourite person, and you basically become one of Irene’s as well.

That’s how you find yourself on the sideline during a Barça training session, reading a book about a dog that doesn’t know how to bark while Mateo is too pleased with himself, checking all the math exercises he nailed. 

“Good one?”

You raise your gaze, shielding your eyes from the sun enough to point out Alexia’s silhouette.

The weather is still too warm for your comfort, making you question the girls’ mental stability for running lap after lap under such conditions with a smile on their faces. 

Sports people are scary.

“You look too good to be someone who just finished training”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Derogatory”, you clarify, pushing your stuff aside so that Alexia can sit beside you on the sideline. 

She’s drinking some sort of sport drink like she’s just eaten sand, and this close, she looks human. She’s grinning, enjoying the sun picking at her skin and Mateo’s passionate explanation of the math exercises he’s done all by himself.

The training session is wrapped up, she stays until Irene comes back from the changing room, washed and dressed, ready to take the little boy home.

The blonde lingers a bit longer, talking about books she loved growing up and how she takes management courses when she can. You find out Penélope Cruz is both your favourite actress, but the midfielder acts shocked when you tell her you haven’t watched her favourite film. 

That night, you put it on and change the language setting, live-texting Alexia all your reactions.

Halfway through, you’re pretty sure she’s watching it too.

~

Almost nine months after booking that life-changing one-way ticket to Barcelona, you buy another one to go back home.

With a return ticket in hand.

It’s your mother’s birthday, so you kind of have to.

Recently, she’s been repeating a new favorite line, rambling about the uncertainty of life and the precariousness of old age. She’s barely in her 60s and has less back pain than most people of your generation, but she’s not willing to listen to reason. 

You come to the conclusion you can’t lose any more points against your brother in the unspoken sibling race for your parent’s love. So you book the flight, pack a suitcase big enough, because you literally have nothing to wear left behind, and mentally prepare for the investigation your family will conduct. 

The tension in your shoulder melts away the moment your brother wraps his arms around you in the airport terminal. 

“You grow up so much”

And, just like that, he’s your annoying, stupid older brother again.

“I didn’t miss you at all”

“I can see you holding back tears”

“You’re literally crying!”, you accuse with a grin on your lips, lightly punching him.

“Just wait until mum sees that new tattoo”

The truth is, your mother is too busy peering deep into your soul to care about the tattoo. 

It takes two days of constant reassurance that you’re working, eating, and sleeping properly; a ceramic salamander figurine – maybe overpriced, but a gift meant to make an impression; and Elena backing up your story to calm her worries.

Barely enough to get you through the rest of the week unstretched.

“She’s just worried”, your best friend tries to reason, sipping a flashy pink drink that you’re not even sure is made from real fruit.

“I moved to Barcelona, not a war zone”

“Oh, so now it’s permanent?”

The shit-eating grin spreading across her face should annoy you, but you have to admit she has a point.

At first it was just an impulsive decision, an urge to run away from everything and everyone. Then, without really realising it, the Catalan city started to feel a lot like a place to settle in, to let your wings spread wide open.

Now you almost call it home.

The waitress interrupts your flow of thoughts, saving you from Elena’s pointed gaze long enough to be properly distracted by the huge amount of food presented. He leaves with a charming smile, but you’re genuinely too focused on the salty chips to notice.

“Are you pregnant?”, you ask, looking as she almost chokes to avoid comically spilling her drink on you.

“The Spanish heat fried your brain?”

“What? You didn’t even have soft drink when we were underage”

Elena pauses for a moment, weighting if knocking over you the rest of the pink beverage could be worth it. It takes genuine pondering.

She decides to take the highest road.

“Are you dying?”

“Are you taking comedy classes in Barcelona?”

The last time your best friend was this over the edge it was because of a pregnancy scare. First year of university, and her boyfriend at time wasn’t really the guy you’d take home for Christmas. A memory that doesn’t help her case right now.

You slip under the dim lights of the bar, a classy spot where she hangs out with the women from her pilates class. A shiver runs down your back, a bad feeling overcoming deep inside you. 

Then, she speaks up.

“I’ve already bought a wedding dress”, she admits, as if she’s confessing a crime, “It’s a size smaller and I have to–”

“Elena, for fuck’s sake, I thought you were actually dying!”

“It is, indeed, a tragedy”

“He hasn’t even proposed yet”

“Details”, she chugs the rest of the drink, smirking and grabbing the last chips you’re too shocked to care about.

The same waitress hovers around your table, drawn in by the loud exchange and your clear distress, “Excuse me, is everything okay?”

He’s young, charming enough for this to be just a gig while he waits and hopes for his acting career to take off. However, he looks genuinely concerned, his gaze shifting between the deep frown and your friend amused grin.

“All good, she’s just dramatic”, Elena points at you with the straw, before delivering the final blow, “And she is single”

The poor boy’s face lights up, naively thinking the commotion was a creative way to play matchmaker.

What a mistake.

You don’t even dignify her with a glance, rolling your eyes before addressing him directly, “Excuse her, she’s panicking because her long-time, overly in-love boyfriend still hasn’t popped the question”

“That’s not–”

“And I’m not interested”, you finish, kind but firm.

He leaves with a nod, cheeks slightly red.

Elena watches him disappear as you sip your own drink, studying you the way she used to when you were confused teenagers who didn’t know how to deal properly with all those feelings and real-life emotions.

“Oh”

The reason you still encourage her goes beyond your understanding.

You’re not starting to question it now, “What?”

“You like someone”

“Elena, I swear–”

“No, no, it’s just–”, her gaze softens as she looks at you, teasing and playful attitude making space for her most supportive side, “It’s good to see you, you know, welcoming back some happiness”

It doesn’t matter how she’s always capable of reading you like a book, like you’re a poem she knows by heart but she’s never tired of.

After all the years and the lessons you’ve learned together, it feels so comforting to know there’s someone out there who deeply understands you. Who truly sees you.

You don’t deny it, you don’t retort to her observation. 

That's not the point right now.

~

You break the promise made to Alba.

Kind of.

It’s early in the morning, the sun has barely risen in the sky, but it’s the perfect time to arrive at the little market. It arrives every two weeks, with vibrant stalls full of everything – though you understand half the things the vendors say. The freshness of the fruit and the unique clothing finds you always manage to come home with are totally worth it.

Alexia is buying vegetables and, judging by the passion she shares with the old lady in front of her, discussing important geopolitical questions.

You enjoy the exchange, taking a moment before approaching.

She jokes about the fact you’re up before the clock even hits double digits, laughing at your retort about fighting with the elderly over groceries. 

The footballer suggests breakfast in a cosy place not far from the market, the promise of fresh bakeries enough to convince you.

It’s not a date.

But you walk side by side, bags lightly colliding sometimes, and before you know it, you’ve arrived at the café. Alexia holds the door open, pointing out her favorite pastries. She scoffs, unamused, when she realizes your questions distracted her long enough for you to pay for both your orders.

It’s not a date, obviously.

But you sit at a table in the far corner of the café for almost three hours, talking about everything and nothing. The bubble you find yourself in bursts when Ricardo calls, complaining that you’re late for lunch, despite insisting on making a reservation.

“We should do this again”, she says as she hugs you goodbye, a smile lighting her entire face.

It’s not a date, but it definitely feels like it.

You remembered the promise you made to Alba, to save your first date for her once you feel ready, just a second after realising how badly you wish to go on a real one with her sister.

~

You refuse categorically to celebrate your birthday at the boys’ restaurant.

They could make a big deal out of it, insist on paying for everything, and you couldn’t let that happen. After months of knowing them and the “Barcelona way” of celebrating loved ones, you can’t let them be in charge of this. 

Also, the bills are finally adding up. They can afford it, you can’t let them do it – at least, not emotionally speaking.

So you host a little party at your place – your place, because Ricardo says you basically own it as much as he does after the bathroom’s makeover. 

The small kitchen quickly turns into chaos the moment Paco takes charge and ropes Ricardo into helping. Pedro shows up with decorations and a banner that was most likely used for his little sister’s. Paul, however, closes the restaurant that same afternoon, brushing off your protests and reassuring you that your birthday is more important than the evening’s earnings.

You can’t find it in yourself to fight them.

The apartment fills with laughter and a vibrant energy that eases the weight pressing on your chest when overthinking takes hold. Balloons cover nearly the entire floor, raised voices and the scent of spices travel from the kitchen. 

Your friends from the hiking group arrive in waves, immediately hitting it off with some of Barcelona’s team. You’ve grown close to a few of them through your relationship with Irene’s family and the one Ingrid and Frido practically forced on you.

Some regular customers from the restaurant also show up, people you’ve grown pretty comfortable with after spending so much time there during the first weeks of taking over the accounting job.

There’s also a nice girl you met at a concert, who Elena stalks on social media to make sure she’s not a serial killer.

Alba and Alexia are the last ones to arrive.

Your life in Barcelona is full of new people, new experiences and adventures.

At your lowest point, you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be loved out loud.

And those people are the loudest you ever met.

The noise around the apartment subsides just as most of the guests leave. The music is turned down to a minimum, because of the late hour and Pedro’s questionable taste, as he hasn’t let go of the speaker once all night.

The small group gathers around the couch, drinks in hand, still willing to celebrate with you. 

“I’m just saying, I think they taste the same”

The entire room erupts in protests at Ricardo’s comment.

“Absolutely no”, Pedro chimes in, seated on the edge of the armchair with a half-drunk beer in hand, “Black olives are made to be a pizza topping, green ones are perfect for everything else”

“What do you even know about pizza topping?”, you interrupt with a grin, “You put pineapple on yours”

Somehow, the complaints grew louder, the room buzzing with indignation.

“What’s wrong with that? Pineapple is a great pizza topic, you’re just too pretentious to admit it!”

“Can we move on from the pizza argument?”

“Oh, no, let’s get into it!”, you wave your hand dismissively, “Pedro, please, tell everyone what you put on first, cheese or sauce?”

“Fuck you”

“You work in a restaurant”, Alba says, her voice laced with disbelief. 

“I’m not the one cooking, am I?”

“Thank God!”

The conversation quickly turns on poor Pedro, who now finds himself defending his questionable taste and own belief.

Alexia, who’s been quietly sipping from her glass, looks at the scene with a raised eyebrow before turning to you, relaxed on the couch beside her, “Honestly, I never imagined pizza to be the thing that ends a friendship”

“I’m just happy we’re not talking about pineapple anymore, that’s a sin”

“You started this”, she points out, giggling. 

Ricardo shrugs from his spot on the floor, amused but staying out of it for now. 

“It’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want”

“Oh, por favor”, Alexia says with a playful roll of her eyes, nudging the paper crown still perched on your head, “This must have cut off circulation to your brain”

You gasp, your dramatic antics in full display, fueled by the time, the alcohol, and, likely, the footballer’s shoulder still brushing against yours.

“You’re just jealous you’re not the only reina in the room”

“Keep dreaming”, Alexia responds with a grin.

The proximity lingers in a way that’s not just playful. It’s comfortable, like an inside joke no one else is allowed in on.

Ricardo watches the interaction from the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering on you and the blonde for a moment longer than necessary. He notices how her cheeks redden slightly, the way you look a little different – softer, at ease.

Alba catches the moment too, still pretending to be involved in the pizza argument. She notices the quiet exchanges and private moments that have unfolded all evening. The way you and her sister have fallen into a different rhythm, a different world.

She’s seen it before.

There’s something between you two, something unspoken, but not quite hidden. She wonders how long it’s been there, how long it’s been that way.

But, like Ricardo, she keeps her thoughts to herself.

The rest of the group laughs, the debate seems to fade into a more relaxed conversation that doesn’t involve food or questionable life choices.

As the night goes on, the teasing continues, but, underneath the surface, there’s something deeper.

There’s the way you lean in a little closer to Alexia when someone says something ridiculous, how your eyes linger on her when Pedro makes a joke and you think no one is watching.

There’s the way Alexia’s knee brushes yours when you laugh, how her fingers dance on your arm simply because you’re close enough to.

There’s the exchange of gazes and smiles, quiet signs of complicity in the loud room.

~

Ricardo waits to the tune of three days before cornering you.

You mention being a bit homesick after your birthday and the Putellas sisters literally drag you to have dinner with them at their mom’s. Eli is the sweetest woman ever, going above and beyond to the point of making that one pie you mentioned once being your favourite. 

The house is filled with memories and tender gestures, a haven of support and a desire of caring for your own that squeezes your heart with a bittersweet beauty. Spending the night there makes it clear how Alexia and Alba were raised, revealing the roots of their kindness.

“You had fun?”

It’s a miracle you don’t drop dead on the floor right there, Ricardo’s voice echoing from the middle of the couch in the dark room.

“Why are you lurking like a fucking killer?”, you shout at him when your heartbeat slows down enough to let you come up with proper words.

“I was waiting for you”

You don’t even dignify him with a response, watching how he’s sipping from a mug like a scene from the shittiest b-movie you can think of.

Crossing the room to sleep the unease away, the guy’s next words make you stop right where you are, “You need to come clean with her”

“What are you talking about–”

“You like Alexia”

It’s not a question, there’s no doubt in his voice.

There’s not a single reason to even try to fight his assumption or your own overthinking.

You reach for the seat next to him on the couch, noticing the second mug just when he offers it to you. It’s a fruity tea you enjoy hot, with way too much honey and not a drop of milk – exactly like the one in your hands. 

The silence wrapping around is comforting in a way that makes sense just because it’s the two of you, sipping tea in the quiet darkness of the room.

“I do”, you admit after a while, even if you don’t need to. 

“I know”

“That obvious?”

“Yeah”, your roommate confirms with a soft smile.

He doesn’t tease, he doesn’t accuse you of anything.

It’s so typically Ricardo that you feel a surge of affection, a need to embrace him and accepting the support of someone who, in a twisted and brotherly way, looks out for you – and your heart. So you do just that, jumping into his arms without a care of your reputation or of the almost-empty mugs.

The man, despite the surprise of your reaction, is ready to hold you for how long you need.

Turns out, you need it a lot.

“Sorry, sorry”, you say after a couple of minute, trying to pull yourself together, “I didn’t see it coming”

“Me being so observant and clever or you falling in love with Alexia?”

“I’m not in love with Alexia”

“Yet”

He’s lucky the tea is not hot anymore.

“I’m not in love with Alexia”, you repeat. 

Not yet, resonates in your head – your own mind betraying you. 

Yes, Alexia is beautiful. Yes, you two apparently clicked perfectly right the moment you met. Yes, recently the time together doubled the time spent with anyone else. You can admit you like Alexia, the therapy is worth the commitment and the money put into it. 

But being in love?

It’s a good feeling, the one that makes her cheeks flush crimson when your smile catches her gazing. Even better, the one that fills you with pride when Alexia’s laugh resonates in the room because of something you say or do. 

It’s an exciting force, the one that unsettles your stomach when she reaches for you just for the sake of touching – of feeling you close. Even better, the one that makes you two sure of finding the other in a room full of people just when needed. 

It’s so terrifying close to love, what it’s blossoming.

You want to fall in love with Alexia.

Ricardo raises from the couch, taking the mugs and putting them on the sink to be dealt with tomorrow. An annoying habit you’re sure he keeps up with just to annoy you.

He returns a minute later, “Are you going to do something about it?”

You don’t miss a bit, “Yes”

“Let Alba know first”, he says with a serious note in his voice, “She liked you”

~

The stadium buzzes with the loud roaring of fans and the sharp, clean scent of freshly cut grass under the rain. Barcelona dominates the pitch, their control of the midfield a suffocating grip as the opponents scramble, desperate for a counterattack. 

Between miscalculated slides and short passes, Alexia weaves through defenders in a blur of motion and focused energy. She’s calm when the ball is glued on her feet, sparkling to light, her presence igniting the pitch, as soon as her teammates take over. 

Patri finds her captain just outside the box and you lean forward, smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

You may be new to the whole thing, new in the Blaugrana’s home stands, but you learn quickly and you know exactly what Alexia’s movement means. 

The shot curves perfectly, the stadium exhales a collective gasp as the goalkeeper’s fingertips fail to reach it. The ball hits the bar loudly, the sound echoing before it flies out of the pitch.

Beside you, Alba lets out a whoop, clapping her hands with a grin stretching across her face, “She’s out for blood”

You laugh, not like anyone could disagree.

Barça is winning by three goals, outrunning the defence and shooting as if they need to score at least three more to sleep peacefully tonight. 

The poor goalkeeper will have nightmares for sure.

“She really want to take home that ball”

“She’s playing to impress”, Alba points out, not so subtly.

You chuckle, her remark flying over your head, “She’s just– good, I guess”

“Good? ¡Por favor!”, the younger Putellas scoffs, rolling her eyes, “She’s acting like a ballet dancer out there, doing pirouettes and running around like she has two sets of lungs”

As to prove her sister’s point, Alexia nutmegs another midfielder and executes another perfect movement, clearing the field for Aitana to set up Vicky for a chip goal.

The crowd erupts, but Alba’s attention remains fixed on you.

“¡Mirala!”, she says, pointing at the pitch where the team is hugging and celebrating, “That was another ‘look at me, soy la Reina’ moment!” 

“Your sister is the most competitive person I’ve ever met”

“Competitive? Chica, she’s showing off! And don’t even get me started on the way she keeps looking up here, fixing her hair between plays– It’s ridiculous”

You watch as Barcelona’s bubble dissipates and they get back at their positions, Alexia waves towards your seats, her face illuminated by a radiant grin.

Your cheeks flush slightly, a mixture of amusement and something else.

The game keeps on with the same level of excitement, and even more shots on target. They win narrowly, unconcerned by their soaked clothes, lingering happily in the rain to sign autographs and chat with supporters.

Alexia immediately seeks out you and Alba, trying to embrace you both despite your not-so-playful protests. The damp material of her kit clings, accentuating her defined muscles, and your thoughts stray to less innocent territories.

Alba sends her sister to the changing room, accepting the kiss landed on her forehead and watching as you nod like an idiot when she leaves with the promise to be back in no time, her hand lingering on your arm.

“¡Ay, esto es increíble!”, she interrupts your thought flow, tilting her umbrella just enough for a stream of rain to drop on your face. 

“Alba!”

“You’re not exactly subtle either, ¿sabes?”

The stadium noises fade into a distant hum. The air between you thickens, the playful banter morphing into something more charged and intentional. Your fingers fidget with the edge of your jacket, avoiding the younger woman’s gaze.

“How long have you known?”, you ask.

“The moment I introduced the two of you, idiota!”, she says, her voice teasing, “But I knew for sure at your birthday’s party”

“Nothing happened between us”

Alba’s smile softens, a gentle understanding dawning in her eyes, “I’m not blind and I know my sister pretty well. And honestly? I think it’s cute, you two glow when you’re together. She likes you. A lot. And you like her too"

Your shoulders relax, “I do. I really like her, Alba”

The wave of relief that washes over you is comforting.

You don’t owe her anything, and Alba definitely doesn’t owe you anything. But it’s good to know this love growing between you and Alexia is real, people around you see it too. People you care about support it.

Your smile spreads naturally on your face when you spot Barcelona’s captain approaching, hair still wet but changed in warm clothes.

Alba doesn’t miss it, nudging you with her elbow just before her sister’s close enough to hear, “It’s good you feel ready to date again, and I’m happy it’s her”

~

“I’m going to say it just once, so listen carefully”, you stop in the middle of the road with a stoic face, “Please, don’t make me regret our entire friendship”

The grin on Elena’s lips tells you everything you need to know, but you give her the benefit of the doubt. Because she’s your best friend, because she knows how to behave.

But she’s your best friend, and she’s not going to behave.

Her visit is not unpleasant, just unexpected.

It’s barely six in the morning when loud bangs on the front door wake you up and almost scare Ricardo to death. He takes it well enough, greeting Elena and going back to sleep the shock away. You, on the other hand, think of leaving her waiting outside until it’s socially acceptable to show up. Her immediate embrace is a clever attempt to smooth your annoyance.

She booked a red-eye flight for a hit and run, so you take her around Barcelona all day and agree to a late night out in a club Alba suggested you join with some of her friends.

“Relax”, she says, skipping steps like a kid as you approach the place.

“Elena, I’m serious”

“Why are you so stressed? Oh– oh, I know!”

She turns around in her heels, too graciously for someone with shoes so high and such low alcohol tolerance – you two may not be in your early 20s anymore, but you figured pregame was necessary this time around.

Her good resolution of not drinking alcohol crumbled as soundly as it started.

“Is she here too?”

“I don’t know what–”

“This mysterious woman you can’t shut up about, who is so great you have heart-shaped eyes but I can’t know her name”, she interrupts, grabbing you by the shoulder as you approach the club’s entrance. 

It’s not like you’re hiding Alexia, or your feelings for her.

She’s a frequent topic of conversation with your best friend, you’re comfortable sharing the moments between the two of you and the way your heart beats at a completely different rhythm around the Barcelona’s captain.

But Elena can be protective, and curious.

All she needs is a name, and she’s going to find out if Alexia has ever got a bad grade in primary school. The teasing for liking a football player? You aren’t ready for that either.

“Yes, she’s here and I need you to–”

“This is the best day of my life!”, she doesn’t even let you finish, leaves you right there, flashing the bodyguard at the entrance a huge smile and sweet talking her way in – even though they have your names as vip guests.

“This is going to be the worst day of mine”, you mutter to yourself, following after her.

The energy in the club is charged with a dangerous combination of freewill and alcohol. The place is packed and colored lights go on and off with the music, bright enough to see who’s in front of you, but not enough to make your decision clear. Not tonight.

Alba sees you first, waving her hand to catch your attention so you join them in a secluded table in a corner of the place.

You don’t even ask how Elena is already seated in the cool leather booth, talking animatedly.

“She’s funny”, Alba comments after greeting you with a hug.

“Don’t believe a word she says”

The younger girl’s laugh mixes with your best friend’s, and you know your fate is sealed when a guy hands her a drink. 

You look around the table, noticing some people from Alba’s close circle and some you met in passing at the restaurant or at a Barcelona’s game.

“She’s in the bathroom”

Your body betrays you before a coherent thought can leave your brain, your cheeks redding to the tips of your ears. 

“Told you, you’re not subtle”, Alba comments, too amused at your reaction.

As if she knows you’re talking about her, as if a magnetic energy forces your body to get closer and closer, Alexia’s gaze locks with yours as she approaches the table, followed by a vaguely familiar face.

She greets you with a dimpled smile and a welcoming hug, it may look like months passed but it’s been a matter of days. The black top she’s wearing emphasizes her toned stomach, and your fingers itch to trace the subtle sheen of sweat crossing her back – a sign she’s been dancing for a while now. 

You’re fashionably late, regardless of the time Alba suggested you to be here. Spanish people are stragglers, you have learned it at your own expense.

“Are you ready?”, the footballer asks.

“For what?”

“You owe me a dance”

“Absolutely not!”, you protest, trying to escape her hug.

“Oh, yes”, she smile, her arm around your waist dragging you even closer, “You made fun of my dancing moves, now you have to prove yours”

Next time, you will think twice before sending the blonde every single comment you found online about a TikTok video one of her teammates posted after a huge win. In your defence, you find it very cute.

The dance floor is filled with people, dancing in fluid movements like you learned Spaniard are comfortable with. A sea of arms fling around, bodies smoothly moving to feel each other. The music vibrates with a bass so deep that your ribs pulses at the same rhythm.

Alexia guides you in a less crowded section, far enough from the table so Alba and Elena can study every single movement, but out of earshot. 

You try to ignore the thought of your best friend gossiping with Alba.

Thinking, however, is the last thing you do when Alexia’s hand finds the small of your back, skin waking up by the slight hint of touch.

It doesn’t really matter how you managed to get this close, how the music runs through your bodies with an unmistakable energy and desire to get even closer. Your arms rise to frame the blonde’s face, her grin growing as soon as she notices your reaction.

It’s not like either of you is hiding the attraction, the pulsing needs to be together. To talk, to touch, to be around one another. It’s always been there, you just never acted on it.

“Are they like that all the time?”, Elena asks, still studying the way you seem to speak a different language with Alexia.

“I’m thinking about locking them somewhere until they kiss or whatever”

The disbelief is clear in Elena’s voice, “Are you sure they haven’t kissed yet?”

“If I know my sister, she must be really fucking scared”

“If I know my best friend, she must be really fucking stupid”

The two nod before bursting in a loud laugh, clicking their glasses. 

Almost an half an hour later, you find them like that, giggling and talking as if they have known each other for years and not just met. Alexia raises an eyebrow, silently questioning if she needs to hold back Alba’s enthusiasm – Elena is matching it without a problem, and that’s what really worries you. 

“And that’s how she ended up with the sister of her blind date”

“That’s not how it happened, at all”, you complain, hitting your best friend’s arm as she decide telling the worst stories possible is the best way to spend the night.

“Must have been a great date”, someone jokes.

“I’m a fantastic date, thank you so much”

“I can confirm”, Alba says with a teasing grin, raising her empty glass as you flip her off with an equally open smile on your lips.

Alexia, on the other hand, straightens up a bit at the exchange, switches her gaze between the two of you, almost taken aback, “You two dated?”

“I told you”, the younger girl retorts.

“I thought you were messing with me”

The change in her posture is subtle, but you’re close enough to feel it. Close enough to notice the way she moves her knee, breaking contact with yours, her fingers toying with the ring on her pinky.

Alba is a bit too drunk to pay attention to the footballer’s dampened mood, not affected anymore by that one date with you so long ago.

She told her sister about it when she first clocked in her interest for you, hoping to clear the way for her to do something about it – a sort of blessing.

Turns out, Alexia’s so sure she was teasing her, lying about it just to annoy her.

Thankfully, your best friend reads in your face the panic and drifts the conversation on a completely different topic. 

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughs, questionable drinking choices, and more dancing. 

Every single attempt of catching Alexia’s eyes fails miserably. She’s not ignoring you, she doesn’t leave her seat next to you, and her touch is light but grounding. Your mind, however, spirals in a way it hasn’t in months.

It’s late when the group decides to call it a day, stumbling out into the cool, damp air of Barcelona. No one is sober enough to even think of driving, the decision to summon taxis rather than risk the roads is unanimous. 

A strange intimacy settled inside the car. You and Alexia sit in the back, while Alba, in the middle, sleeps on the older woman’s shoulder with soft snores. Elena is deep in conversation with the Catalan driver, despite not speaking a word of the language. The city lights flash outside, blurred by a light drizzle that you trace with a finger against the window.

Upon reaching Alexia’s apartment, you insist on helping her carry her sister inside, ignoring her half-hearted protests. Your best friend, armed with a winning smile and a ‘thank me later’ attitude, somehow manages to convince the driver to wait for you outside.

The place is quiet when you enter, amplifying the tension that crackled between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s never uncomfortable.

You and Alexia carefully settle Alba onto the bed, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows across the guest room. Each gentle adjustment of her sister’s blanket, each soft whisper to ensure her comfort, stretched out the delicate balance. 

It’s minutes later, right by the front door, that something snaps.

Before you can reach the handle on the way out, the footballer’s fingers wrap around your wrist.

There’s urgency in the way her body feels stirred by an electric discharge all of a sudden, her voice low, “You dated?”

“What?”, your confusion is mostly prompted by Alexia’s distressed tone.

“You dated my sister?”

“No, we– I mean, we went out like one time and I was, clearly, still fucked up by my ex– It’s not like we actually dated or something”

“She said–”

“She was joking”, your hands cupping the blonde’s face seems to do wonder at calming her, but you still feel the need to clarify the situation, “I kissed her, once, then found a good therapist and said to her I wasn’t interested like that”

“Are you interested like that?”

“Alexia, I just said–”

“No, no”, she interrupts shyly, never dropping her gaze, “Are you interested in me like that?”

Despite the voices still filling doubts in your head, kissing her is the easiest, most natural thing to do at that moment. 

Her lips are soft, warm, and taste faintly of sweet drinks. Her breath mingled with yours, a shared rhythm in the quiet intimacy of the kiss.

A current of interest, desire, and care pulls you closer. There’s complicity and belonging, mingling with curiosity, and the thrill of uncharted territory.

And there’s Alexia, right in front of you, vulnerable and exposed and trusting enough to lay her emotions in your hands. Making you feel so safe that you don’t even have to think about doing the same.

So you kiss again, trying to convey how sure you are about your feelings. Because the insecurities and the questioning silence when Alexia’s heartbeat syncs with yours and her hand caresses your face.

The sharp honk coming from the taxi outside is the only reason why you separate.

~

The late afternoon sun drapes over the Barcelona streets as you and Alexia stroll, fingers laced together. 

It’s a familiar feeling now, holding hands after a date.

You have explored hidden hikes, shared tapas after her games, and even attended a couple of flamenco lessons. Nothing too different from what you’ve already experienced. 

Except, of course, for the kissing.

And there’s been a lot of that.

Your phone buzzes, interrupting Alexia’s recall of Vicky’s last attempt of convincing her to do another stupid trend. You drop her hand, your fingers flying across the screen, muttering in concentration.

The footballer raises an eyebrow, complaining playfully, “Am I annoying you?”

“It’s this stupid bird!”

“Still fighting with ser y estar?”

“I’m sorry, my Spanish teacher is a tease and gets distracted five minutes after promising to help me study”

“She sounds like an incredible teacher”, she counters, too pleased with herself as she hints at your last private tutoring.

Despite your best effort, the other woman had other plans. The sentences she whispered right at your ear, with a raspy voice and a note of teasing in every single movement of her lips, made your resolution crumble in a matter of minutes. The books, not even opened, fell off the bed with a kick of her foot.

You do, however, learn some new words.

Your cheeks flush at the memory, “Shut up!”

“I said nothing”

You ignore her grin, still welcoming her embrace as she pulls you closer to help with the lesson.

“This app is useless! Why do those Spanish animals always do weird things? It’s making me questioning my entire existence”

“Tan dramática”, Alexia snorts, nudging you with her hip, “Why are you even using that thing? You can learn everything you need from me”

“I’m trying to actually learn something here”, you retort, faking annoyance, “Besides, you’re not always available for Spanish lessons. I want to get better, impress the locals”

“After more than a year?”

“Never too late”, you grin, “Just wait, I’ll be ordering in flawless Catalan in less time than it took you to ask me out”

Alexia stops in her tracks at your teasing, taken aback by your admission and by way of calling her out for the stalling after the first kiss you shared. She may have needed a little push then, trying to find the best moment to ask you for a real date to just blur it out in the rush of a late game night you attended.

You continue walking, too focused on the lesson to acknowledge the blonde’s momentary pause.

“Wait, I thought you were taking Spanish lessons”

“Yes, from you and the stupid bird, but I have an actually tutor for Catalan”

“You’re learning Catalan?”

“I live in Barcelona”, you say, matter of factly, but the flush creeping up on your cheeks betrays you.

The truth hangs in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken. It isn’t about fitting in, not anymore. It’s about her.

To understand her better, wrapping deeply into the fabric of her world. It’s commitment, to the city and to a future that you can’t picture without her in. It’s a promise, somehow, to bridge any gap and to learn her culture, her soul. 

Alexia’s gaze lingers, the weight of your growing feelings both exhilarating and inevitable.

She told herself she set a pace comfortable for you, respecting your need to get better with loving yourself and trusting others.

But you’ve been ready for this love for quite some time now.

The way you open up with her, hold her after a long day, and gently kiss the creases around her lips when she smiles. The way you not just proudly wear your heart on your sleeve, but you hand out your emotions to be seen. The way you make her feel safe enough to be vulnerable, to be taken care of. 

The way you’re learning to love her by learning to love everything that makes her who she is.

A nervous flutter, like trapped butterflies, stirred in your stomach as Alexia catches up to you. You could feel the energy radiating from her, the subtle scent of her perfume, a mix of wood and something undeniably her.

“Estic enamorada de tu”, she confesses, cheeks slightly tinted but her voice so firm, so sure. 

“I know what that means”

A smile, genuine and carefree, grows on both your lips. You study her face for a moment, finding nothing but pure care and a force that feels like arms keeping you safe and warm.

Nothing but love. 

The way you kiss her is almost too intense for a late afternoon in the streets of Barcelona, but barely enough to convey all the emotions that you discovered and learned to welcome in your life again. 

You may not be ready to say out loud you’re falling in love with her too, not yet. But the firmness of your hands on her face, the happiness lightning in your eyes, the resolution conveyed by your kiss.

She knows.

~

On the day you declare the restaurant officially debt free, Paco lifts you up off the ground, spins you around with ease and plants a loud kiss on your forehead.

Paul’s reaction is a bit tamed, even if he declares he’s going to name his firstborn after you. Still single and hopeless romantic, you’re not sure how much to read into his words.

Pedro cries, of course he does, but he also hugs you in a way that conveys almost too much not to shed a few tears yourself.

It’s not difficult for you to admit you own them more than they own you. 

Taking care of the restaurant’s ledger and the guys’ enthusiastic opinion about your accounting job opened a lot of small businesses’ doors. The idea of opening your own office never even crosses your mind, not planning on entangling yourself in a structured system anytime soon. The new apartment you rent has a small room that works just fine as a study.

You will still keep an eye on them, though, not sure enough your finance lessons really drilled in their heads. 

“So, you’re finally letting us treat you with dinner?”, Paul asks, serving you up with way too many pleasantries. 

“I already have someone who pays for me”, you retort, playful smirk on your lips.

“¡Ay, I thought you were taking me out tonight!”, Alexia complains next to you, keeping up with the joke as she pretends to not be interested in the food anymore. She can be such a dork.

“Wait, am I crushing a date?”, Alba intercepts from the other side of the table.

“You’ve been crushing our dates since the day we met!”

The laughs that erupt are loud enough to catch the attention of the other patrons, thankfully not really annoyed by the chaos. The truth is that, despite being a menace of a group, it is not like you can drag your friends in any other place without the risk of getting banned forever. 

It’s a familiar scene. The restaurant feels like a second home now, one that you built on your own around people that truly see you, support you and never miss a chance to tease you.

So you shake your head at Ricardo’s antics and glare at Alexia when she keeps teasing her sister, effortlessly distracting her with light movements of your fingers on her knee. 

The conversation flows between shared memories and inside jokes, carrying the night away until your table is the only one left. Not planning on leaving the place anytime soon. And as you sit there, surrounded by your friends, questionable recalling of stories, and the magnetic pull of Alexia’s presence, you just know that this is it. 

This is your life, your love, your chosen family.

Then Pedro has to ruin the moment, persuading everyone you have to make a toast for whatever reason. You try to fight it, embarrassed and quite frankly taken aback by the respect and genuine admiration this people seems to feel for you. 

A subtle nod of your girlfriend’s head, her hand finding yours beneath the table, is all you need to indulge with their antics.

“To us”, you say, raising a glass, “To finally getting our shit together!”

Laughter and cheers fill the restaurant, everyone congratulating each other for the most random things and joking around as if life could always be this simple.

Alexia’s hold tightens, her eyes meeting yours. Her face lights up in a way that never fails to make your own heart grow. 

“T’estimo”, you whisper, just for her to hear. 

Your love is usually so loud. A love that grows unexpectedly, but burns with a fierce and tender flame. But your promises are quiet. A silent acknowledgment of commitment that goes beyond, that stretches confidently into the future. 

Together.

[wroetolando]

𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where netflix interviews you about your relationship with lando

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: you are in love - taylor swift

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The room hums with quiet anticipation as the Netflix production team makes their final adjustments. The bright white walls and minimalist décor give the space an almost clinical feel, but the warmth of the overhead lights makes it slightly more inviting. A few feet away, the interviewer shuffles through her notes, her well-rehearsed smile never faltering.

You sit in the plush white chair, Lando’s hoodie draped over your frame like a protective shield. You hadn’t meant to wear it—well, maybe you had. It had been an early morning, and in the rush to get ready, you grabbed the first thing that felt comfortable. Now, as the cameras adjust focus, you wonder if people will notice, if fans will recognize it from the countless Twitch streams and Instagram stories. They probably will.

The cameraman counts down from three with his fingers.

“And… rolling.”

The interviewer’s smile widens. “Alright, let’s get started.” She flips open her folder, her pen poised between her fingers. “You’ve been around the paddock for quite some time now. Fans have seen glimpses of you, but you’ve managed to stay relatively low-key despite being in a relationship with one of the most talked-about drivers on the grid. How has that been for you?”

You shift slightly in your seat, keeping your hands clasped together in your lap. “I don’t really think about it too much,” you admit. “I mean, I know people are curious, and I understand why, but I’m not here for the attention. I’m here for Lando.”

The interviewer tilts her head slightly. “That’s interesting because, whether you like it or not, you have become a figure in the F1 world. From being spotted in the McLaren garage to celebrating podiums with Lando, the cameras have taken notice.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that too.”

She flips to the next page of her notes. “Let’s go back to the beginning. When did this all start? How did you and Lando first meet?”

A soft smile tugs at your lips. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. It wasn’t like some dramatic love-at-first-sight thing. We were just… friends for a long time. It was always easy between us, you know?”

“Friends to lovers?”

“Yeah.” You nod, the memory of it still so vivid in your mind. “It just sort of happened over time. I don’t think there was ever a moment where we sat down and said, ‘Okay, we’re in love now.’ It was just us, and at some point, we realized we couldn’t imagine life any other way.”

The interviewer smiles. “That’s really sweet.” She glances at her notes again. “Now, Lando is obviously a very public figure. His fanbase is huge and passionate, and with that comes a lot of attention—not all of it positive. How do you handle being in that world?”

You take a slow breath, choosing your words carefully. “It can be overwhelming sometimes,” you admit. “I try not to let it get to me, but there are days when it’s harder than others. Some people are really supportive, but others…” You pause, debating how honest you want to be. “Let’s just say not everyone is kind.”

There’s a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “Does that ever affect your relationship?”

You shake your head. “No. At the end of the day, I know Lando, and he knows me. That’s all that really matters. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise, but when we’re together, none of that exists.”

The interviewer leans forward slightly. “So, let’s talk about race day. You’ve been in the paddock for some of Lando’s biggest moments, including his first podium and some really close battles. What’s that like for you?”

You let out a small laugh, already feeling your heart rate pick up at the thought of those high-stakes races. “Stressful,” you say with a grin. “Really stressful. I trust him completely, but watching him go wheel-to-wheel at 300 km/h? Yeah, that’s terrifying.”

“I imagine it’s quite an emotional rollercoaster.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You nod. “There are days when he’s on top of the world, and there are days when it’s devastating. And you feel all of it with him.”

The interviewer watches you carefully. “And how do you support him through those tough days?”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of his hoodie. “I just remind him that one race doesn’t define him. He’s so hard on himself sometimes, and it’s easy for him to forget how incredible he is. So, I try to be the voice that tells him it’s okay to have bad days.”

She smiles. “That’s beautiful.” There’s a brief pause as she flips to the next question. “Now, fans have picked up on how he looks at you, how protective he is. There was even that one moment on Twitch where chat thought it was adorable how he made sure you were okay. Do you ever notice those things?”

Your cheeks warm slightly. “I mean, yeah, I notice,” you say with a soft laugh. “But that’s just him. He’s always been like that, even before we were together. It’s just who he is.”

The interviewer grins. “Well, fans love it. And speaking of fans, you’ve gained quite a few of your own. Do you ever think about that?”

You blink in surprise. “Not really.”

“Well, you should. People adore you.”

That makes you smile. “That’s nice to hear.”

She sets her notes aside. “Alright, last question—where do you see this going? The future?”

Your gaze flickers toward the door, where you know Lando is probably waiting just outside. Then, you smile, your answer coming easily.

“Wherever he goes, I’ll be right there with him.”

The cameraman signals that the recording is over. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The interviewer offers you a warm smile before thanking you for your time, and as soon as you step out of the interview room, Lando is there, leaning casually against the wall.

“How’d it go?” he asks, pushing off and slipping an arm around your waist.

“Not too bad.” You glance up at him. “They asked a lot about you, obviously.”

He smirks. “Well, of course. I am pretty great.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can retort, he tugs you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Thanks for doing it,” he murmurs. “I know it’s not your thing.”

You lean into him. “It’s worth it for you.”

And as the cameras pack up behind you, fading into the background, you realize that no matter how many interviews come your way, no matter how bright the spotlight gets, this—being here with him—is what matters most.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[adieutristana]

Hiiii! Can you do arcane women having “I’m not better than a man” moment?

of course! thank you for the request <3

sunder by hibou on repeat rn

summary; arcane women having an ‘i’m no better than a man’ moment (aka being distracted by your assets).

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, maddie.

tags/warnings; SUGGESTIVE, no explicit nsfw, fluff, mentions of drinking, crack kinda, arcane women being whipped for u

men and minors dni.

jinx;

✧.* jinx is a tit girl, no doubt about it. she doesn’t care the size, the shape, how they sit, she’s just utterly obsessed with your boobs. she tries to keep her hands to herself, she really does, but sometimes she just can’t help herself.

✧.* though she does have to show some self-restraint sometimes, as torturous as that is. as much as she'd love to, jinx knows it's probably best that she doesn't smother you and keeps her hands to herself until you're behind closed doors... which makes days like this so difficult.

✧.* today, it's hot out, and zaun gets humid. for that reason it's optimal to dress wisely, you'd picked a simple tank top and pair of loose-fitting shorts in hopes of not sweating yourself half to death. you and jinx had a day planned together, a day of visiting street vendors and exploring the undercity. not much necessarily, but you've found that anything can be fun as long as jinx is around.

✧.* you've run a bit late, and you're internally hoping that your girlfriend won't be mad. she's never exactly punctual herself, but you always feel awful running behind on plans with her. what if she thinks you stood her up, or even left her? though your worries melt off of you as you step into her view, and you see her lips curling into a smile.

✧.* "hey, babe, i'm so sorry for the wait, i was running l-" you're cut off by jinx's index finger on your lips, while her own tug into that grin you've come to love. "don't worry about it, you're here now."

✧.* within seconds, you're grabbing her hand and leading her right into the street market, eager to make up for lost time. jinx thanks janna above that you're preoccupied with looking for a stall to visit, because her gaze is... elsewhere.

✧.* naturally, with it being warmer out today, you'd opted to wear lighter clothing. this included a spaghetti-strap tank top with a very low neckline, where she could see your cleavage just right. her mind immediately went to all the places she knows it shouldn't. you're in public, in broad daylight. but they're right there, and she can't help it.

✧.* what would it look like if you bent over- would they start spilling out? or if you started bouncing on your heels? she thought about how she could see your bra straps, how she might be able to see the clasp from the back. what she'd do to unclasp it right now.

✧.* you pull her to a stall with old records, seemingly donated or imported from piltover. they're not exactly cheap- but still, they're nice to look at. you and your girlfriend have spent many an hour browsing stands like this, with jinx swiping a few vinyls for her stereo more often than not.

✧.* the boxes of records instantly draw you in, all organized by genre and decade. you take a record from one of the first boxes you see, holding it up for jinx- this is one you've been looking for for months, and they have it. finally.

✧.* "baby, look!" you smile, holding the record up. her eyebrows raise, jinx has clearly heard you, but her gaze is... downcast. "uh, babe? what's wrong?" until it clicks. she's looking at your tits.

✧.* "oh- jinx!" you gasp, as one of your hands flies to cover your cleavage. it's a playful gesture, yet still earns a scoff from the girl. she rolls her eyes in response, her voice slightly exasperated. "what? they're right there, and you expect me not to look?"

✧.* this only earns a light shove on the shoulder from you before you return to browsing through records. it's almost comical how hard it is for jinx to resist looking at you like this, but you can't exactly complain.

vi;

✧.* you and vi visit a sports bar in piltover around once a month now. you've made it a routine after she stumbled upon the place by chance, and you both ended up actually enjoying the experience. the bartenders were friendly, the drinks were fairly priced (for piltover), and the patrons were respectful enough.

✧.* it was the same routine: you'd tell vi when you were on your way, she'd swing by your place to pick you up, you'd walk hand-in-hand or with linked elbows to the bar, and you'd have a few hours of fun.

✧.* it's no different this time, with you slipping on a simple yet fun outfit for your night out. vi wasn't ever much of one for dressing up, but she tried for you, and it was always adorable seeing her efforts.

✧.* so when vi shows up at your door and hears a shouted "coming!" from inside, she's rocking back and forth on her heels, anxiously waiting your arrival. she just saw you a few days ago, yet she already misses you- can you blame her?

✧.* you swing the door open with a soft smile on your face, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you make your way down the steps to take vi into your arms, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. "hi, baby," you hum, smiling into the skin. "hi, cupcake. i missed you. you ready?"

✧.* with a nod, the two of you head off. vi had noticed your outfit when you opened the door- a simple lacy tank top with black bell-bottom jeans. it was simple, a bit dressy, but appropriate for the location. yet it wasn't until you turned around to lock the door before taking her hand that she noticed your ass.

✧.* she takes hold of your hand, taking the short walk to the bar with you. though her hand is clammy, more than usual, and she's trying so damn hard to focus on what you're saying to her while she can only think of how incredible you look in those pants. how much better you'd look if she took them off.

✧.* "so then my manager said i needed to ease up on the customers, but i was just being fair! he told them the same thing i did!" "i- yeah, that's not good. not good at all."

✧.* you both arrive at the spot, take your usual place at the bar. the bartender greets you, seemingly a new one- but she seems friendly enough. you both order your usual drinks, but you're still hung up on the work situation you'd been ranting about. you need to get it off your chest, and vi has always been such a good listener.

✧.* with your elbows braced on the bar counter, you turn back to her, "i mean, i just don't understand why the need to be so adamant! i told them that we were out of it, what did they expect?"

✧.* though your girlfriend seems to be distracted still, with her blue eyes fixated.. somewhere else. you can't figure out exactly where, though. snapping your fingers a few inches from her face seems to do the trick, though, as she quickly shakes her head. "huh?"

✧.* "are you listening?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i- yeah, i'm listening! your manager, a customer insisting on something that you don't have, uh..."

✧.* you nod slowly, raising a brow. she's listening enough to catch the gist of it, though the girl's tone is starting to worry on you. still waiting on those drinks, you lean a bit closer. "hey, what's up? is something wrong? you seem kinda distracted."

✧.* it's in that moment that vi feels her heart drop. she's been caught. she has no other option than to simply confess, or that's what she thinks.

✧.* "i'm sorry, it's just... your ass looks really good in those jeans."

✧.* your eyes widen for only a moment, and vi is preparing for the worst to happen. she's never shied from intimacy or letting you know the depths of her attraction, but while you're trying to talk to her? the last thing she wants is to be disrespectful. though what follows isn't you getting up, isn't a scoff or you telling her off. it's a bark of laughter, followed by a gentle shove of the shoulder.

✧.* "come on, you could've just told me that! i knew they were doing something for me, but damn!"

mel;

✧.* mel frequently brings you to gatherings. aside from being an influential councilwoman, she's also something of a socialite. being a woman of high status like herself and having the influence she does, she has to get out, to network, make meaningful connections that will not only help her career, but serve as good friendships.

✧.* and mel has never been shy about you, either. while she believes the personal details of your relationship should be kept private (for the most part), she also adores you, and wants the entire city to see that. it's often that you'll be her date to galas, to conferences, to progress day celebrations of all kinds.

✧.* when your girlfriend invites you along to a cocktail party, it's nothing out of the ordinary. she tells you that the dress code is formal, the venue is small yet still lavish- as always. she'll arrange transportation for you, and meet you in the lobby so you can go together.

✧.* choosing a dress certainly took time, though it was an effort you enjoyed. you'd never been one for events or clothes like this before meeting mel, but getting to be part of her world was fun. seeing the life of a powerful politician and socialite like herself was exciting, something entirely new to you.

✧.* you didn't see the point in buying outfits you'd only wear once, though, so you took to rentals for these events. deciding on a cocktail dress proved a bit more tricky than others, but you managed after several hours of trying on garments, switching sizes, checking price tags, and asking for second opinions from shop attendants. a long satin dress in a dark color with a slit up the right side. not too pretentious for an event like this, but far from casual.

✧.* after arriving at the venue, you'd taken a moment to simply take in your surroundings. white marble floors, gold accents on the doorways, marble pillars and framed portraits in the lobby. the attention to detail in this place was nothing short of incredible.

✧.* "there you are," you hear from behind you, prompting you to turn over your shoulder. a smile tugs at the corner of your lips the moment you recognize who it is. "i couldn't find you. i was getting worried."

✧.* mel places a light kiss on both cheeks, before pulling back to take your hand. though as she pulls back, she can't help noticing the slit up your dress, and just how high it runs. it stops just below your hip, and shows off the smooth skin below when you step to the side. it's tantilizing.

✧.* though she's a professional. she swallows, she rolls her shoulders back, and leads you into the main room. she has to keep herself under control- not just for your sake, but for the public's. what would the other guests do if they saw her looking at your legs like that?

✧.* and still, with a cocktail in one hand and her own hand in the other, even as you're making small talk with other guests, mel can't help her wandering eyes. lingering on that oh so high opening along your dress. her mind drifts to what's under that, how much she'd love to tear that dress off of you right now- but she can't. so she takes a quick sip of her drink, and tries to distract herself.

✧.* yet as soon as you notice exactly where her eyes are, you can't help the low chuckle that escapes you as you teasingly stick your leg out just a little more, revealing that much more of your upper thigh. "distracted, miss medarda?"

✧.* "i'm not distracted," she protests, but you can hear the hitch in her breath when you step out just that bit more. "gods, that isn't fair."

✧.* you only roll your eyes in response, giving her hand a firm squeeze. "save it for later," you whisper. a promise- something to look forward to. "we've gotta behave for now."

✧.* mel isn't able to focus on much else for the rest of the night, to say the very least.

sevika;

✧.* you and sevika live together, for the most part. although you've still got your own place that you pay rent on, you're at sevika's more often than not. it's small, rather run-down and cramped, but it's home. she keeps it clean, keeps your belongings around so that it feels more familiar, even started burning candles once you started coming around for a more welcoming atmosphere. she cares, she truly does.

✧.* though there are some times you want to take some time to yourself. sevika gets it. she's been by herself for much of her life, and the only person occupying her living space would be her. if you need a day or two every few weeks to yourself, then so be it.

✧.* you parted with a kiss to her cheek, and a whispered, "i'll be back, baby." she has your number, so it's not like you won't be talking- and your address, in case of an emergency.

✧.* the two days you took to yourself were uneventful, spent relaxing. you'd read a book, cleaned the place, caught up on laundry, rearranged furniture (several times, out of indecisiveness) and called your girlfriend at odd hours of the night to hear her rough voice. though you decided it was time to go back once you noticed there was nothing left to do, nothing you wanted to do. you enjoyed your own company, but you were ready to be in sevika's.

✧.* you'd worn a simple bralette and pair of sweatpants to her doorstep, your overnight bag slung over your shoulder. you clicked your key into the lock, slowly pushing the door open and stepping into the living room. you never had to announce yourself, sevika was usually there.

✧.* though as she looks up from the book she's reading, you swear you can see her eyes widen. if only for a moment. it's unclear what exactly they're focused on, but you assume it has something to do with your choice of outfit.

✧.* "sorry, didn't feel like a shirt today," you chuckle, situating yourself next to sevika on the couch. placing your overnight bag on one of her side tables, you look up at her, and now you see. now you can see very clearly that your girlfriend's light eyes are lingering on your breasts, and the fact that the lace of the bralette is rather... sheer.

✧.* "yeah, uh- don't worry about it," she mutters, her eyes flitting to the side. for the love of janna, you've just gotten back. she can't be all over you right now. "you... you can start unpacking, if you want."

✧.* you cast her a sidelong glance, though slowly get up from the couch. you take the bag and unzip it, beginning to take out some clean clothes you've brought and turning on your heel to put them away in her room. yet still, you feel sevika's gaze lingering on you. on your tits.

✧.* "that distracting, huh?" you tease, casting a look over your shoulder. sevika lets out a heavy sigh, but nods- there's no point in denying it. she's never been particularly shy about her fondness for your boobs, either. "yeah. something like that."

caitlyn;

✧.* you and caitlyn have a dinner date planned tonight. it's the day before your anniversary- you would've loved to celebrate on the actual day, but something that your girlfriend couldn't get out of came up at work. though it wasn't ideal, you understood. you still have today to celebrate, don't you?

✧.* so naturally, you pulled one of your best dresses from your closet to wear. a light color that compliments your complexion, something simple enough that it's not too much for a restaurant- but still formal enough for the occasion.

✧.* caitlyn had also taken care to wear one of her best dresses, style her hair, do her makeup in a way she knew would draw you in (despite you thinking she's beautiful no matter what she does).

✧.* you'd agreed to meet each other at the place, but caitlyn had taken care to make sure it was within walking distance from both of you. the attention your girlfriend paid to detail never ceased to amaze you, neither did her consideration.

✧.* upon arriving at the restaurant, you take a few moments waiting. you sit down on one of the benches offered, patient, until a hostess spots you and asks if you need help. you inform her that you're waiting for somebody, only to be told that caitlyn is already sat at your table. you're at the table within seconds.

✧.* "i'm so sorry, i didn't keep you waiting, did i?" you breathe out, slinging your bag over the back of the chair. "not at all," she assures, giving a gentle smile. her piercing blue eyes soften every time they fix on you, something you've come to know and love. "i got here early, anyways. i'm just glad you're here."

✧.* but before you sit down, cait's eyes travel down, down, to your hips. the way the dress you chose perfectly hugs them and accentuates the curve. she's always had such a weak spot for those hips, and this dress isn't helping.

✧.* "...you look beautiful, by the way," she says, clearing her throat shortly thereafter. you're in public, caitlyn, behave yourself. she orders her food, she makes small talk with you over your drinks, she makes a point to try and distract herself with the fact it's your anniversary. this is a refined celebration, anything else can wait for later.

✧.* and it's working, until you tell your girlfriend that you have to go to the bathroom quickly, you'll be back. you step out to the side to get up, and her eyes are immediately drawn back to your hips and just how incredible they look in that dress. then you turn to walk in the direction of the bathroom, she sees them sway, and caitlyn is gone. her mind wanders to how they'd look if she pulled your skirt up just that bit, or how they'd look bent over her desk.

✧.* caitlyn tries to finish her meal in peace, she really does. but she finds it increasingly difficult with just how distracted she is. once you return, she's flushed, she's playing with her food, she's stumbling over her words. "cait, baby, is everything alright?"

✧.* "mhm. yes, yes, everything is wonderful. don't worry about me," she rushes out, taking a quick bite of her food. though something tells you she's not telling the full truth- but by the flush dusting her cheeks and the tips of her ears, you have a feeling you'll find out later.

maddie;

✧.* you and maddie have frequent sleepovers, alternating between your own apartment and hers. it's a routine of sorts: maddie will come to your place after work with a bag full of her things for the night, greet you with a kiss on the cheek and a firm embrace. she often brings gifts for you as well: little things. snacks, a bracelet she saw while window shopping, the likes.

✧.* today is no different. maddie had to take a double at work, so she's taking a bit longer than usual, but this isn't out of the ordinary. being a junior officer is nothing if not time-consuming. until then, you've decided to occupy yourself by making dinner for your girlfriend. she's done all this work, she deserves it- besides, you know she'd do the same for you.

✧.* it's rather late, you having already showered and changed into your pajamas. you've eaten your dinner, now it's just a waiting game for your girlfriend.

✧.* as soon as maddie walks in the door, she's hit by the aroma of dinner cooking. her favorite, too. it's a familiar smell, and makes her all the more eager to finally see you. though when she walks into the kitchen, she sees you in a loose tee, and... sleep shorts. tight ones, that hug the shape of your ass just right. maddie's always had something of a dirty mind, and it immediately goes to all the things she could be doing with that ass. but she hasn't even said hello yet.

✧.* so she forces herself to reign it in, snaking her arms around your waist from behind. the girl rests her chin on your shoulder, gently brushing her lips against your temple. "hi, gorgeous," she hums, nestling a bit closer to you. "sorry i took so long."

✧.* you shake your head, giving her a reassuring smile before kissing her cheek in return. "don't worry about it. i know how work is. dinner's almost ready, okay?"

✧.* she nods in response, but doesn't loosen her grip on you. she's glad you're doing this for her. you've always been so thoughtful, so sweet when it comes to her, but still, her mind keeps going back to how incredible you look in those shorts. how badly she wants to take them off.

✧.* once you announce that dinner is ready and set down a steaming plate on the table, maddie reluctantly pulls herself from you to sit down. she starts eating, of course. she's grateful for what you've done for her. "i'm gonna clean up a bit, okay?" you hum, before turning back to the counter, and maddie nearly chokes.

✧.* she's watching you move swiftly throughout the kitchen- wiping down the counter, organizing spices, washing dishes, cleaning cabinet handles. yet she's not watching any of the actual tasks, only the way you look in those little sleep shorts. good gods.

✧.* but you can feel her gaze on you from behind, searing into you. burning, almost. without turning around, you pause at one of the cabinets. "...you're staring," you state. not a question, but an observation. "is it that interesting?"

✧.* maddie takes a moment to swallow, slowly shaking her head as if you could see her. "not exactly, just... you look amazing in those shorts, yeah?"

[peanutheaddd]

new peanuthead au 😭😭😭😭 cant stop putting these beasts into situations

extras + au deets below cut

essentially this au is where current petey and older petey switch bodies and they get up to various shenanigans . LOL . theres not That much of a plot and not much rlly changes perse . its just a silly situation .

current petey is after he starts living w dog man long enough such that they got a routine going . atp petey secretly likes how domestically hes been living and he has Not been handling that revelation well LMFAOOOO

older petey is married (probs about 10 years atp) + he basically just sent lil petey off to college before the switch and he was handling it poorly . LMFAO me when im in a struggling competition and my opponent is petey t cat

lil petey saved him and petey knows that Very Very well. caring for him became his new purpose and helped him turn his life sround so now that lil peteys off living his own life hes kinda lost and it freaks him out really badly . he misses his son so damn bad bru 😭😭😭😭 bro was not prepared for empty nester depsair

thats why he gets so emotional in the comic LOL . seeing lil petey as a little baby again is basically a dream come true for him . he misses baby lil petey so bad 😭😭😭😭

the switch happens bc (current) petey makes some new body switching invention boogaloo and he thinks that it didnt work and calls it a day but it Did work it just took effect overnight instead of immediately like he had expected . also the body switching invention was across universes instead of within a single world like he had intended. LMFAO His stupid baka life 😭😭😭

older dog man is retired at this point. hes also kinda mellowed out bc hes older . older dogs are chiller and that applies to dog man too LMFAO . he doesnt have the stamina to be that high energy anymore

older dog man can recognize the switch almost Instantly bc peteys demeanor is waaaaayyy too different and too similar to how he used to act 15 years ago .

older dog man tries 2 be understanding and give petey space bc he knows that hes not his petey anymore but he gets separation enxiety really bad and he misses his petey Really Really bad. especially bc atp lil peteys not living w them anymore so he js feels Really lonely. my goat 😭😭😭😭

older petey is having the time of his life. his baby is a baby again and his body is light and he doesnt have back pain anymore and he doesnt need glasses to see . however he Knows his dog man gets separation anxiety and needs his daily quota of physical touch (never underestimate a mf whose love language is ohysical touch) and he knows that the past him would Not give him that . so he Is having a good time but hes also constantly worrying about how his dog man is doing .

current petey meets older lil petey at some point and he feels a crushing sense of despair about it 😭😭😭 in my mind dog man comforts him and tells him his petey also didnt handle lil petey growing up very well .

eventually the two peteys sync up the body switching thingy and go back to their og worlds . i assume when they switch back older peteys reached peace abt his empty nest despair probs thanks to lil petey . and current petey has a bit of a different perspective on both dog man And lil petey . smth smth valuing the time he has w them Now. yah. #corny but thats how i like it YAYYYYYY

lil petey can immediately tell that older petey isnt His papa . he can do that in canon so he can do it here too lol . id assume it kinda confuses him tho bc he can tell its petey but hes too different to be PETEY ygwim

ok thats it i think

[dixons-sunshine]

Improvement | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: After starting a playful argument with your partner about not knowing whether or not he had improved since you two first slept together all those years ago—which you knew he had, you were just messing with him—Daryl decided to take matters into his own hands.

Era: Alexandria, can be any time post Saviour war.

Genre: Smut.

Warnings: Porn without plot, basically, soft sex (I think), unprotected p in v, swearing, dirty talk, praise, others I am probably missing.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: So...hi lol. I haven’t written anything in over three weeks, so this was long overdue. This was mainly written for practice because I am not that confident in my smut writing skills, but I hope you all like this! And thank you so much to @dixonsdarkelf for being a second set of eyes 💜

The sound of soft gasps and groans filled the air in the bedroom. The sun had begun its descent into the horizon, illuminating the room in a way that gave the atmosphere a more romantic feel. The room was warm, the summer heat clinging to every atom it could. However, the heat in the room did not compare to the warmth of the archer on top of you.

Daryl’s warm, solid body pressed against yours, his bare chest nearly flush against yours, your breasts moving with each thrust of his hips. His face was buried in your neck, his breathing heavy and erratic, his eyes closed as he relished the feeling of pure, utter bliss that washed over his body. Your moans and gasps of pleasure reached his ears with each snap of his hips against yours, and that sound was like music.

“Oh, Daryl,” you drawled your partner’s name, your voice several octaves higher than usual. Daryl’s dick dragged against your walls deliciously, hitting that one spot inside of you that he knew well. “Oh god, just like that.”

“Yeah?” Daryl whispered into your ear, breathless and panting. He snapped his hips against yours, his cock hitting that spot once more, and it tore a breathless ‘Daryl’ from your chest. Soft, almost asking, begging, pleading for him to get you over that edge in the way that only he could. “Y’like that, Sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he picked up his pace, going a little faster, a little harder, a little deeper. “Yes,” you whined, your fingers tangling in his brown locks. “Jesus Christ, please don’t stop.”

“Not even if the world was endin’,” Daryl promised you. He pulled his head up from your neck, only to then lower it back down to capture your lips with his for a messy but absolutely perfect kiss.

If it were any other situation, you would make a joke about what he said. Probably say something along the lines of “well the world already ended.” But not now. Not while he was making you feel so good. Not while you were steadily approaching that edge, getting ready to dive headfirst off of it, right into the pool of immense pleasure.

Without breaking the kiss, and without letting his pace falter, Daryl snuck one of his hands down your body, gliding lower and lower, softly kneading at your flesh along the way, until it reached its destination. Daryl smirked slightly against your lips when he gently pressed his thumb against your clit, loving the way your body responded to his touch.

Not missing a beat, he began rubbing slow, tight circles against the little bundle of nerves, his kisses trailing from your mouth to your cheek, your jaw, down your neck to your collarbone. The urge to mark you was strong, but he resisted. You were going on a run that following day, with people in the group who would be relentless in their teasing if they saw hickeys on you. Because of that, his teeth only lightly nipped at your flesh, enough to cause pressure but not enough to leave a mark.

“Oh my—oh my god.” The sounds that escaped your mouth were downright pornographic. Your mind was clouded, that coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. You weren’t going to last much longer, that you knew for certain.

Daryl groaned when you lightly tugged his hair, his breath hitching at the feeling of you clenching on his cock, squeezing him, a sign that you were at your peak. You just needed that little push to fully let go.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” Daryl whispered into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to the skin there. “Let go f’me. Wanna feel you.”

Almost as if his words were the key to unlock the metaphorical gate, the coil in your stomach snapped. Waves upon waves of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over you. You arched your back and let your hands fall to Daryl’s shoulders, gripping them to try and ground yourself as your orgasm continued to take over your body. Soft whimpers spewed from your lips, muffled only by the archer kissing you once more. You could taste the faint linger of the cigarette he had earlier on his tongue, mixed with the flavour of the whiskey he had drunk before this. There was something else as well, something you could not quite make out, but that wasn’t important.

When the fog in your mind cleared just enough for you to be lucid, you detached your lips from his and focused on Daryl. His brow was furrowed, quiet grunts slipping past his lips as his thrusts grew sloppier, but his pace sped up. He was close. You knew it. You could practically feel it.

“You close, Baby?” you asked breathlessly, leaning up slightly to press your lips to his jaw. “You gonna let go for me this time?” Your lips moved lower, lightly nipping at the flesh beneath his jaw and smirking slightly when Daryl muttered a quiet fuck. “Come on, Dar.”

With one, two, three more thrusts, Daryl came undone. He snapped his hips forward, locking himself there as he spilled deep inside of you, small, quiet curses spilled past his lips. The archer dropped his head to rest against your shoulder, his body shaking and his mind clouding up in the best way possible.

You were breathless, still coming down from your own euphoric high as you held Daryl, your fingers gliding through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp as they went. The huntsman was panting, his eyes screwed shut and holding his body weight up with his shaking arms, trying his hardest not just to collapse on top of you.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other’s presence and slowly coming back to reality. It was peaceful, quiet, except for the sound of your erratic breathing that was beginning to even out.

You were the first to break the silence. “Wow.”

That made Daryl chuckle. He lifted his head and gazed down at you, his beautiful ocean-like eyes scanning over your face. Even after all these years together, after many times of being in this exact position, Daryl could never get over how absolutely gorgeous you looked post orgasm, how you seemed to positively glow. “Yeah. Wow.”

You raised your hand and gently cupped Daryl’s cheek, a lazy, contented smile on your face. “I love you.”

A small, genuine smile graced the archer’s features. He turned his head and pressed a tender kiss to your wrist. “Love ya too.”

Slowly and carefully, he gently eased his cock out of you, and you instantly missed the feeling of him. However, your heart swelled with love when you saw Daryl reached for his discarded shirt on the floor, using it as a makeshift rag and gently cleaning you up. When he was done, he flopped down on the bed next to you, opening his arms so that you could snuggle into his chest, which you did.

With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes. However, Daryl’s voice cut through the air before you could begin to drift off.

“Y’think I’ve improved?”

Laughing lightly, thoughts of your earlier playful argument surfaced to the forefront of your mind, the very reason you both were here at that moment. “Yeah,” you mused. “You have definitely improved since our first time.”

Daryl hummed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Told ya so.”

“Oh I know you’ve improved. I was just joking around earlier,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his chest. “And I was hoping that it would rile you up so that this could happen.”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed again. “You could’a jus’ asked.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” you joked. “Seeing you all riled up…it’s hot as fuck.”

Daryl scoffed, but that small smile didn’t falter. “If ya say so.”

[phiralovesloki]

My mom keeps journals, and she used to write journals that were centered on each kid, and when we moved out, she gave them to us.

The journal I have from her, one of the entries is about how I got in trouble for not behaving at bedtime, and one of the punishments was that I wasn't allowed to go play with my friend who lived across the street. We lived on what was essentially a huge cul-de-sac, very safe neighborhood, lots of kids, lots of people knew each other, we used to have block parties, etc.

Well, she went to go get something done and when she went to look for me, I was gone. So she called my friend's mom and wouldn't you know, I had ignored my punishment and gone across the street to play with my friend. My mom was upset and I was in trouble, not because I had left the house without saying anything to her at the age of three and a half, but because I had gone to play with my friend when I was not allowed to.

Meanwhile, it was normal for my brother, who was almost 7, to hop on his bike and hang out with his friends in the neighborhood. Expected, even.

I'm now a middle-aged mom with two young kids. And yeah, I can't even wrap my head around letting my kids go to the playground down the street without at least one adult. Some of it is my kids' ages and personalities, but a lot of it is just ... are we allowed to? Is it okay to do this? Are we bad parents?

For the rest of this school year, the kids have two different drop-off and pick-up times for school, which means that we're often left with 10-15 minutes where my youngest wants to play on the playground while I walk over to the school and pick up his brother. The playground in question is the school playground, and often there are other kids and parents around, but not always, right before pick-up. And my beautiful, stubborn four year old does not want to come with me to get his brother--he wants to stay on the playground.

So, we have rules. Stay on the playground, don't leave the playground with anyone besides me, and if he needs me, he needs to take the main path from the playground to the school building so that I can see him.

I get dirty looks from other parents when we do this. Even though it should be perfectly safe--it's the school playground, I'm literally just right over there, I'll be back in a moment, he understands the situation and doesn't think I abandoned him, etc. etc. But still, it feels like I'm being an awful, neglectful parent when this happens.

So yeah. There's SO much that contributes to this major issue. And I don't know how to really fix it as just one parent. But we're doing our best. Things are really, really different than when we were kids, and not all of it is for the better.

[buckyschair]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: On a dreaded visit to the Hewn City, Azriel finds more than he bargained for. It’s only fitting that when your wildest fantasies come true in a land of nightmares, it's with a forbidden visitor rather than your own husband… After all, who could be a better affair partner than the master of spies? 

A/N: Cheating is wrong! But aesthetically? It’s so rich! Can you tell I’ve been listening to ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know' on repeat? And thanks to other songs like ‘Ivy’ and ‘Illicit Affairs’, an illicit relationship just sounded sexy and sad! So here’s a messy little story about cheating WITH Azriel. Let me know what you think of the reader character, I tried to make her unlikeable at first but then I became sympathetic to her so idk where we ended up.

Content Warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, alcohol, female reader, shitty unnamed husband (not physically abusive), slight dom/bdsm overtones, casual shadow bondage, thigh riding, oral M receiving, PIV sex (no protection bc they are faeries and this is fiction, but put on your mental magic condom if you must), gross liberties taken with whatever’s going on with the Hewn City, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 7.6k

Masterlist

✸✸✸ 

Wine. A warm bath. Silk sheets. 

“Did you see her shoes? With that jewelry?”

Your sapphire hand mirror. A lobster bisque. The perfect shade of red lipstick. 

“Oh, did I see them? They practically assaulted me the moment I walked into the hall!”

You took a sharp breath, and continued to block your surroundings with mental images. A massage. The look on your husband’s face when he sees you chatting with another male–

“She has no shame.”

You snorted, abruptly disguising it with a cough. The two ladies looked at you with barely concealed disdain, clearly not convinced by your weak cover up. You schooled your features into a cool mask once more as they drifted away through the throng of guests. 

Well then, so much for keeping yourself entertained during this dull gala. You had a pretty pathetic collage of curios to distract yourself with. The concepts were a flimsy screen between you and the stale evening ahead; monotony at its worst. 

You’d rather be anywhere but here. 

A foolish thought, you realized, given that you’d never been anywhere but here, except for brief diplomatic visits with your husband. Those were always awfully dull, your every movement watched and examined out of suspicion. You couldn’t blame your hosts. After all, you were from the Night Court, spawn of the worst bastards of Prythian. 

No shame! You recalled the gossiping courtiers. Now who were they to judge someone for having no shame, when they were here gossiping in front of the Mother and everyone? And in equally appalling finery, no less! One of the two females was actually trying to get away with a bright orange dress. You sighed, almost pitying her for her sorry attempt. 

But this was the Hewn City, at the heart of the Court of Nightmares, as it was deemed in hushed whispers. There wasn’t enough air here to waste it on pity. 

Faeries of all kinds waltzed and chattered around the ballroom before empty thrones. Gaudy gowns and coats and heels and stoles– was that fur? Mother help us– blurred together as you took in the choked crowd. The decadent buffet? Untouched. The sparkling beverages? Much indulged. Such was typical. 

What was the purpose of this event? You couldn’t quite recall. They were endless, these damned things. 

What an odious affair. You’d been playing a game in your mind, to keep yourself from going mad. The goal was to picture all your favorite things, everything that brought you solace, and to try and hold them all in your mind at once. 

Pointless, you chided yourself. It hadn’t stopped you from being disturbed by the insidious chatter of fellow partygoers. Despite the pleasant premise of the mental game, the montage left a bad taste in your mouth. 

You had pictured everything that you looked forward to, and it had all taken up so little space. The game was ended so quickly. Your lips pursed, your good mood gone sour. You blamed the two females for interrupting your train of thought. They’d ruined your concentration, that was it. 

You needed a drink. Your glass had been empty for far too long, you noted with displeasure. 

Where was your husband anyways? He’d gone off for refreshments a while ago. Probably mixing with the elite, making sure his face was seen. He fancied himself a real big player in the court's inner workings, but you sincerely doubted it. Unfortunately, as the one he fucked most frequently for a number of years there, you knew firsthand how his ego was built on fantasy. 

How long had he left you alone here? You couldn’t say. You weren’t exactly minding his absence. Temporary bliss was still bliss, you mused, resolving to find some real entertainment. You clicked your tongue once in distaste before gliding away from the pillar where you’d been camped out for the majority of the function. 

Your husband always laughed at how you admired the fabrication of the city. But you couldn’t resist it. The pillar behind you was one of your favorites. Carved of dark stone, hordes of twisting figures decorating its face. They appeared to be in agony at first glance. A closer look revealed that they were in fact artfully engaged in all kinds of fornication. If only all pain could be turned into pleasure as easily as carving ebony. 

Fuck, if you weren’t in a philosophical mood this evening. Sober, too. 

Your husband was nowhere to be seen, a small mercy. He always hated your moods. You couldn’t blame him, you supposed, but you did regardless. 

  Right as you made it to a servant with a decanter of amber liquid, the room fell into an uncharacteristic hush. Your fingers plucked a full glass before you turned to scan the room for the cause.

Your eyes fell on the figures advancing from the center of the room as if they’d just appeared there. But of course, they had.

You scolded yourself as you glimpse the High Lord and his entourage. 

Of course! How could you have forgotten? After all, that was why your husband had been so insistent on your attending tonight. The High Lord had specifically requested this event be thrown to honor… shit. Something. They did so many of these meaningless parties, often without any real reason, other than to show off that they could. 

Your attention turned fully to the newcomers. They cut quite a fine figure. You understood why they caused the room’s collective breath to catch. 

A subtle movement to the right of the High Lord grabbed your eye. You couldn’t help your own sharp intake of breath as you noticed the shadows flickering around the imposing Illyrian. In his leathers and simmering blue siphons, there was no mistaking him. It was the shadowsinger. 

A thrill escaped down your spine at the realization. You’d heard hushed whispers about the High Lord’s spymaster, but you hadn’t known that he would be here tonight. His menacing quiet was unnerving. It was no wonder that rumor spoke of a seething rage masked by his calm demeanor. He never visited the city under the mountain these days. You wondered absently what he was doing here now. 

He held himself with precision, a weapon at the right hand of his Lord. His wings were folded tightly, but it did little to hide their looming presence. The horns hovering over his shoulders only added to his threatening presence. Beneath his wings, his broad shoulders were relaxed, his demeanor casual as he strolled with cool power to stand beside the throne. Once stationed, he crossed his arms, his muscles emphasized with little effort. Fuck. What you wouldn’t do to feel them over you. 

Irritation simmered across your chest as your husband sidled up to you, your budding fantasy shattered. 

He didn’t so much as look at you as he shoved a glass in your direction. You received it with equal affection, now awkwardly holding two glasses. His attention rested fully on the group by the throne. What an ass. 

The perfume on his coat was a scent you would never choose for yourself; it was far too sweet for your tastes. Your nose curled unconsciously– not at his infidelity, but at his poor taste. You hoped he would never buy you a similar perfume. Let him enjoy it on some other tramp. 

As it was now, his lust was focused on the conversation at the head of the room. The Steward, Keir, motioned to your husband, and incidentally you, as he spoke to his Lord. 

You felt your husband’s excitement, and you were certain it was evident to the blind and the dead as well. You sighed, resigned to the lack of tact that sullied his political sensibilities. He’d been gifted a hunger for power, without the typical tact for courting it. Shameless, the word flashed again in your mind. Yet, you couldn’t deny that he’d secured a decent knowledge of the court’s security in his current position under Keir. 

He practically skipped when the Steward gestured for him, and you followed with a more metered step after passing your now-empty drinks off to a nearby attendant with a grimace. Despite your efforts, you knew that dignity was not something you could afford to value in this court. Still, you kept your chin up as you followed your male counterpart, straining at the stifling society. You drowned out his obsequious remarks as introductions were made between the males. 

You wished the female one was here, the Morrigan. She made your blood freeze, but you preferred her cool disdain to the slimy males before you. You swallowed your irritation, keeping your face neutral as meetings were arranged. 

To cool your mounting headache, you entertained yourself by taking in the shadowsinger out of the corner of your eye. A scant glance rewarded you with a stunning image of the male, who was intently focused on the conversation at hand. His handsome features were darkened with swirling shadows. 

He was even better up close. You’d lost count of the instances where you’d caught a pleasant figure across the room only to be disappointed upon closer inspection. But this male was a specimen, indeed. 

His dark brows trailed into a strong nose, his strong jaw upheld by a sturdy throat, one that you’d love to sink your teeth into. His hands were thick and scarred. You pictured what they could do to you, how meticulously they could pick you apart, stroke by savage stroke. The tough material of his leathers was snug in all the right places, tight around his massive thighs. Your thoughts erupted with fantasy at the details of his statuesque figure. 

What held your attention the most, though, were his eyes. You would expect them to be dark, shadowy. Yet they were a rich amber, and startlingly bright. You flicked your gaze away quickly, but their burn lingered in your ears as if he’d caught your stare outright.  

It was a pity he was just standing there. You wondered absently how you could cause a distraction, maybe fainting or starting a fight so you could see him in action. Your fantasies were interrupted as the conversation wrapped up, your husband butchering platitudes that he surely thought charming. You avoided choking on your disdain, but only narrowly.

As you walked away, Azriel released a deep breath. Cassian cleared his throat, a shit eating grin lurking beneath his cool features. 

You’d kept your face perfectly pleasant throughout the whole interaction, not so much as a twitch to betray your insidious thoughts. But far be it from you to maintain propriety in the presumed privacy of your own mind... 

Little did you know how loud your thoughts were. You couldn’t have hidden them, not from the present company, even if you’d known you ought to. Your thoughts were written in your skin, in your scent, hidden to most, but obvious to the High Lord’s elite. 

“Well, well, Azriel. It’s just irresponsible for you to torture our citizens like that,” Rhys teased his brother as you walked out of earshot, oblivious to the three pairs of eyes taking in your generous retreating figure.  

“I thought I was going to hurl if she didn’t stop undressing you with her eyes,” Cass drawled, fluttering his lashes in a dramatic imitation. 

Azriel just snorted and shook his head. 

“Hey Rhys, remember when Azriel was just a fledgling and couldn’t get any?”

“You mean yesterday? Yes,” Rhys responded with equal humor. “Since when was he the most fuckable?”

“Jealous, much?” Azriel cut in before Cass could continue the vulgar jokes.

“You could do worse,” Rhys said suggestively, amusement playing underneath his carefully arranged expression. 

Azriel hummed. “I think I’d better do some recon later tonight, what do you think?” The boys grinned at that, Cassian hiding his snicker from the room behind his hand.

It was easy for Azriel to take their jeering in good humor when his ego had been rubbed just right by your attention. His eyes found you again in the crowd, your figure filling out your dress in a way that was downright sinful. He couldn’t wait for this damned event to be over. 

✸✸✸

Your husband, the idiot that he was, wasn’t a fool. So, he had Azriel’s room heavily guarded and warded that evening. 

Which was exactly why Azriel found it so simple to steal his way into your quarters, with the guards conveniently occupied elsewhere.  

The dark was especially thick as he crept down the halls of the Hewn City’s elite. He hated to spend a night here, wasted in the dank underbelly of a mountain. The event had passed without incident, if only barely. It was only a thinning scrap of discipline that kept him from lashing out at Keir. His greasy tone had Azriel’s fist curling around Truthsinger all night. If he was being honest, it was only his respect for Mor’s claim on her own father’s life that held his blade. 

That blade stayed sheathed even now, as he slipped soundlessly into your dwelling. It was almost insulting how easily the wards and locks were bypassed. 

Azriel found you exactly where his shadows had anticipated, curled up on a cushioned chair in front of a roaring fireplace. A needless extravagance, given the magic that heated the whole city. 

You were still in your dress from the ball, edible as ever, and your hair has been let down. His eyes trailed the mussed locks around your throat as you swallowed a mouthful from a crystal cut glass. You set your drink down on the low table beside you. 

His silent steps faltered as he spotted a second glass, lightly sweating in the warm air. Was your husband home after all? 

As his shadows moved soundlessly to canvas the apartment, you paused with your hand still on your drink. 

It took every inch of Azriel’s discipline to keep his composure as you turned to face him. He shuddered at the sparks roiling in your expression. 

You'd been expecting him. 

“It’s considered polite to knock, you know,” you stated. He was frozen, pinned under your unexpected gaze. Your eyes raked over his tall figure, drinking him in with barely concealed desire. His fingers twitched. 

“And it’s impolite to stare,” he shot back. 

You smiled at that, teeth glowing sharp in the firelight. 

“Touché.”

He drifted further into the room, his shadows skirting around the perimeter, flanking you as he approached. The fire dampened at his power permeating the air. You didn’t even bother pretending to flinch.

“Have a drink with me,” you invited, unperturbed. “Or would that be improper, too?”

In reply, Azriel grabbed the spare glass, and knocked it back in one smooth motion. When he set it down, two of his digits stroked the delicate rim gratuitously, his eyes never leaving yours. He snagged your drink from under your fingers and perched above you on the arm of your chair, dauntless as ever. 

He was playing a dangerous game, stealing what wasn’t his. 

“We weren’t introduced,” he began casually as he stared down at you. 

“Oh?” 

“I saw you earlier tonight,” he said, his syllables crisp. “Typically, someone might introduce their spouse to the High Lord and his retinue.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “He’s had so much on his mind,” you excused your husband’s lapse in manners with a dismissive wave of your hand. He was many things, but you could never claim him to be poorly mannered. At least not outside the home.  

“Is that what you are to him?” came the reply. “An afterthought?” 

Your silence was answer enough.

He continued, menacingly, “I can’t understand that. I could hardly think of anything else all evening, with you there, and in this outfit.” His eyes bored into your soul, his blunt words making you blush. Not out of embarrassment, but in exhilaration. 

“I can’t say I understand him, either.” You were annoyed at the topic, this was not what you’d expected to talk about with the gorgeous male towering above you. In fact, talking had little to do with your hopes for the evening…

“And where is he tonight?” Azriel pressed. The question was unexpected.

“Privacy is one of the few luxuries I have,” you whispered seductively. 

The shadowsinger scoffed at that, eying the expensive interior where you sat. 

“I doubt that.” 

“Are you calling me a liar?” He levelled you with a look, and waited patiently for a real answer. You swallowed, deciding your pride should learn to live with the truth. “I don’t know where he is. Well, I know the answer is someone’s bed, certainly. But where? With who? I don’t ask anymore,” you admitted.  

Azriel nodded. He wasn’t judging you, you realized. He was just gathering information, calculating. His eyes narrowed as his contemplation clicked.

“So what I’m hearing is that it wouldn’t be terribly untoward, all things considered, if I fucked you in his bed?”

You gasped at his ugly words, even as they sent a shudder straight to your core. His responding smile was a wicked thing, dripping with dark promise. 

 “I saw how you looked at me this evening.” He dipped his head to speak lowly in your ear. “You were practically begging for this.” 

His lips brushed the sensitive shell of your ear as he sat back. Your breaths were dangerously uneven now, your heart was in a riot under your ribs. He looked intimidating above you, the firelight painting him in aggressive shades of crimson. Yet his eyes were like syrup, enticing amber pools oozing with arousal. Dimly, you registered him set his drink aside. 

“What are you going to do about it?” you breathed, hardly trusting your voice. 

His hand came to cup your jaw roughly, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. 

“What would you have me do?” he countered.

“Kiss me.” 

At that, he launched forward to capture your face fully, his mouth meeting yours in a furious kiss. You tasted your husband’s best whiskey on his mouth, and you moaned sinfully at the flavor. He took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his warm tongue. His heady taste ignited a hunger low in your gut. He was unraveling you with precision, your teeth scraping against him messily. 

As he moaned your name, you grinned. You weren’t sure if he’d remember you, after all, but you’d certainly hoped. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he groaned against your mouth. 

“How long has it been?” 

“Centuries? At least,” he guessed. 

Memories flooded you, unbidden, as his rough jaw worked yours, your moans mingling in the hot room. 

He’d been fully grown the last time you’d seen him, of course, but somehow he seemed more mature now. 

It had been a brief encounter, but pleasurable, when you’d befriended the Illyrian ages ago, in the calamity of your youth. You’d never gotten too close to him, you doubted his brothers even knew about you. You were neither of each other’s firsts, but he was certainly a highlight in your sexual history, you now realized with chagrin.  

“You’ve made out well,” he said roguishly. 

“What?” you muttered, confused, before you saw how he was glancing around the place, noting the plush rugs and fine ornaments. “Oh, yeah. They managed to marry me off advantageously after all. It’s cushy,” you shrugged.  

“Impressive work,” he deadpanned. 

“Yeah, well we can’t all be blessed with ungodly strength and good looks.” 

You were shocked when he laughed at your playfulness. You couldn’t recall his grim face laughing, but as you saw it, it felt right on him. Perhaps you’d erased the image. Or maybe he was simply different now.

“Are you calling me handsome?” he flirted lowly, his lips brushing your cheek, as he grinned mischievously. 

“I’m not going to be calling you anything if you keep sitting on your ass! I heard you were watching me all night, and I asked you to do something about it,” you huffed. You were floored that he’d noticed you, that he’d remembered you. 

He growled and kissed you again quickly before pulling you up. You went to lead him to your bedroom, but you didn't make it very far before he had your back pressed against the wall. His kiss was bruising, like he couldn’t believe it was really you, and he needed to make sure. It was a strange sensation, to have an unrecognized dream be realized so viscerally, to be entangled with him again.

Only when your lungs were screaming for air did he pull back; he was as insatiable as you remember. Your breaths came in heavy pants as he held you firmly against the wall of your husband’s living room. 

His leg pressed into your clothed center, and you whined noisily at the contact. His pupils dilated, and he pressed his leg more firmly against your core. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you tugged tightly at his scalp as you felt the pressure right where you needed it. 

“If you do that, I'm going to finish right here,” he growled. His words only thickened the pulse that was building low in your abdomen. 

Effortlessly, he removed your hands from his sensitive scalp and pinned them above your head with his shadows. The position pressed you close to his chest, trapped by his firm body. Your breasts brushed his front, the contact riveting.

He softened his harsh actions by placing warm open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. It was torturous, his teeth scraping over your pulse point.  

“Now,” he purred, “are you going to be a good girl and do as I say?” 

At the moment, you couldn’t imagine doing anything other than his bidding, entranced as you were by his actions. 

“Yes,” you promised. 

“I knew you were smart. On your knees for me, angel.”

He released your hip with a gentle tap. You slid down the wall, your arms still bound above you. He caught your wrists as you kneeled, using them to press you against the wall with one hand. The position wasn’t comfortable, but you paid no mind as you made eye contact with his straining leathers.

You leaned forward to nuzzle the outline of his cock beneath his clothes, mouthing over his tip. He shuddered, his fist tightening on your wrist. 

“Please,” you slurred into him. Your lips continued working along his clothed member.

“Fuck. Listen to you beg for it,” he groaned, his pelvis shifting towards your face involuntarily. He deftly undid his belt, popping it open with one hand. The action was erotic. His nimble fingers made quick work of his leathers. 

When he finally uncovered himself, you moaned at the sight. Consistent with the rest of his anatomy, he was impressive. 

A particularly thick vein had your mouth watering in anticipation. You parted your lips, your tongue falling open, ready for him. He was pretty, and you loved to take pretty things and make them your own. 

He eased his thick head onto your waiting tongue, and groaned deeply at the contact. Your warm mouth was an instant ease to the tension in his head, replacing its pain with a delicious coil in his abdomen. His wings shivered, falling limp as you took him deeper.

His taste was intoxicating, salty and thick. You breathed through your nose, looking up at him through your lashes as you drooled around his girth. One of his hands was braced against the wall, his expression simmering with torment. As your watery eyes met, he moaned at the sight of you crouched under him in your gloriously disheveled state. 

“Fuck, look at you taking me so well. Right where he could walk in and see,” Azriel sighed. 

Your eyes widened at his words. Your cunt throbbed at his obscene comments and you whined. 

“Do you like that? Being such a slut for me?” he laughed, the sound thick with need. 

He moaned again as you began to tongue his length. You traced his thick veins generously before you began to bob your head. Your pulse felt heavy under the pressure of his grip on your hands, pinned to the wall. His hips stuttered as you found a rhythm with your mouth. 

When you pulled off a bit to give special attention to his weeping tip, sucking gently, his free hand came to hold your hair. He shushed your startled noises as he pressed you further onto him. You frantically swallowed, choking as he forced himself down your throat. He held you there for a moment before he began to pump himself into your mouth. 

Gagging at his size, you breathed through your nose in time with his slow thrusts. He groaned, the noise landing painfully in your soaked core. You whined, and the vibration around his girth made him hiss. 

“You look fucking divine on your knees like this,” he praised haltingly. “Doing so well, angel.” 

If your mouth wasn’t occupied, you would have told him how divine he looked too. Even fully dressed, with just his fly popped open, he looked like a walking vice, every inch an indulgence. His hair was tousled from where you’d raked your fingers through it, and his expression was just as unkempt. The labored look on his face was beautiful, even as the pleasure was so depraved. 

He was a practical stranger, and you were sucking him off in your husband's hallway. The priceless carpets would be soaked by the time you were through. 

You relaxed your jaw further, trying to take more of him down your throat. One erratic movement, and your teeth scraped his shaft lightly. 

He hissed, pulling you off of him abruptly. 

“Shit,” he panted. He didn’t sound mad, yet he looked fierce with a sick appetite.  

You tongued his flushed head, apologetic. “Let me finish, I can do it,” you rasped. 

“I know you can, baby,” he assured you, “Fuck, trust me, I know.”

You attempted to lean in for him again, and cried when he held you back. You looked up at him, tears streaking your cheeks. He ran a thumb under your eyes before pressing his thumb to your lips. You sucked him in eagerly, sighing at the slight gratification, teething brattily at his fingernail. His abdomen spasmed at the sight of you so worked up over tasting him. 

“Did my cock make you stupid?” he cooed. “No need to beg, baby, I’ve got other plans for us.”

He pulled you up, kissing you languidly as you pressed against him. Your hip dug into his arousal, sending fresh pleasure through him. He licked the spit from your jaw, moaning at the pure eroticism.

“Want to show me your bed, baby? I promise I'll make it worth your while,” he touted, and his eyes shone deliciously with depravity. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him along into your lavish bedroom. When you arrived, you twirled around dramatically to gesture at the room, ever the tasteful hostess. 

“As promised…” you present the intimate room. The sapphires on your favorite hand mirror winked at you from your nightstand as you led him towards the silk cushions. 

He hummed in appreciation, pausing to pretend to take in the interior. You blushed, even though you had nothing to hide. Suddenly, you felt vulnerable having him here. 

Finally, his eyes fell to you standing in invitation before him, next to your bed, which was perfectly built for two. His sensual stare sent a rush through you, reigniting your excitement at the delicious affair.  

He brought his hand to brush your hair back, grasping at your scalp. The agonizing male pulled you towards him. His kiss was relaxed this time, his hot tongue meeting yours in a gentle caress. His other hand skimmed your side, exploring from your waist to your hip with infuriatingly gentle motions. 

For a moment, you allowed yourself to enter a daydream: that this was your life. You imagined that his strong, steadying grip was a real embrace. Maybe you’d have stumbled home together after another horrible event, and the whole way you’d both have mocked the ridiculous room full of ridiculous people until they were nothing but a ridiculous memory. He would kiss away the dullness until your soul was brilliant and shining again. 

Suddenly, you were horrified to feel your eyes thickening with tears. 

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you urged him. 

“Need me that badly?” he tried to tease, but his voice was thick with lust. When he reconnected your mouths, his grip was crushing, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in his desperation. 

Despite your wet eyes, you hadn’t really been sad. You’d been empty, absent from your own life. You didn’t need his pity. You needed his fire, a living coal to stoke your own with. 

Here you were in all your wealth, trapped, and embarrassed by your barren, threadbare life. Not even sheets of the highest thread count could cover the rags and shambles of your existence. You were ravenous, you realized, for something to make you feel alive. 

And here Azriel was, like a vision from a different lifetime, kissing you senseless like it was his secret mission all along. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” he murmured against you. Before you could question his meaning, he was slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his mouth following to taste your freshly exposed skin. 

As your dress pooled around your feet, his growl filled the room with pitch black energy. As his eyes darkened at your nude form, you thanked the Mother that you’d foregone undergarments. 

“Did you know? Did you know that I was going to be there tonight when you put this on?” he breathed, teasing sensually.  

You debated lying, but thought better of it. “No,” you confessed. 

He whistled shortly, “I’m just that lucky.”

He grinned at you before attaching his mouth to your naked flash, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh of your nipple. 

“You’re perfect,” he remarked between sloppy kisses to your chest. 

You flushed impossibly, floored by his attentions. His soft mouth was expertly working your tits, biting lightly and harshly licking, while his rough hands explored your backside. It felt dangerously like worship, even as he consumed you for his own satisfaction. The ecstasy was twisted; you’d had no idea he was even in your city when you’d dressed for the dreaded evening out with your husband. 

“On the bed,” he commanded, spit shining on his chin when he rose finally from your chest.

You fell back against it, shamelessly watching as he unfastened the straps of his leathers in a torturous spectacle. 

“You’re gorgeous,” you whispered, half to yourself. His wings twitched at that. Pride surged through him as he finally removed the last of his clothing, easy work courtesy of his hastily redone pants. His thick cock slapped to attention at his stomach. Your chest was rising rapidly from your position against the pillows. You looked so comfortable, so enticing. 

“You’re one to talk,” he flirted. You reached for him, intending him to join you. Instead he sat on the edge of the cushion, tantalizingly out of reach. 

“Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

No, you thought. 

“Yes,” you lied aloud. 

His eyes narrowed. Shadows crept from his shoulders to slither up your form. You shivered at their featherlight touch caressing your form. 

When you moved your hand to play with them, you gasped, finding your limbs restrained again under their power. Your arms were above your head, and your legs spread open under you. 

“That’s what you get for lying," Azriel shared sympathetically, as if he wasn’t the one controlling them. You pouted and he clucked placatingly, his hand caressing your ankle. Was he ever going to let you touch him? 

“Come here,” he cooed. He pulled you roughly onto his lap, so you were straddling one of his thick thighs. He kept your hands secured behind your back while his came to grip your hips, steadying you. 

You whined as he flexed his rigid muscles under you. Sweat was already forming a thin sheen across your boiling flesh.

“You didn’t listen, and then you lied,” he listed. “You’re lucky I'm feeling generous tonight, I'm going to let you get yourself off here.”

Your jaw fell open at his words. What? Did he expect you to fuck yourself on his thigh? 

“Well?” he prompted. 

His hand gripping your hip moved to squeeze the flesh of your ass impatiently. Yet you didn’t move, testing him. You weren’t used to this, not getting what you wanted. 

A crack rang through the room as he smacked your ass. You moaned at the sudden contact, pain flaring along with a sudden sense of urgency. Your hips started to move, slowly at first, then with more vigor as you gained the confidence to seek some friction. 

“That’s it, good girl,” he cooed. 

He watched you through heavy eyelids, your breasts bouncing right in his line of sight. When you glanced at his crotch, you saw the evidence of his desire prominently straining against his toned abs. It only fueled your fervor to see how you affected him. 

You looked so fucked out above him, circling your hips desperately on his muscular thigh. His huge hands were secure on your waist to steady you, but he wasn’t actually helping. You grew frustrated, desperate for stimulation, the pressure not nearly enough to soothe the throbbing ache between your legs. 

“Az, please.”

“Hmm?”

“Please touch me,” you begged.

He obliged, but again, not as you’d hoped. His tongue traced swirling patterns over your breasts, and one hand came up to palm them. The touch was maddening, only heightening your sensitivity. Your pussy was soaking his thigh, yet only his gaze deigned to touch your undulating hips. 

“Not there,” you complained in a huff. It was infuriating to be clenching around empty space. 

When he finally brought his rough fingers to your clit, you cried out in relief. Your hips stuttered as he rubbed tight circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Sweat dripped down your spine, muscles in your shoulders and thighs straining as you chased your bliss. Your moans crested as he pressed his textured fingers harshly against you. Right when your release was about to shatter you – his hands abruptly pulled away, forcing you to still your hips. 

“Did I say you could come?” 

His fingers left your form as he growled. You gasped, red faced and panting. The look on his face was predatory, lit with brazen lust. 

“On the floor, on your knees.” 

Dizzy with the broken orgasm, you obeyed awkwardly, his shadows still constricting your hands. The floor bit into your knees, the sting was a jarring sensation in contrast with the arousal that was dripping between your thighs. Despite your discomfort, you were determined to finish what you’d started earlier in the hallway. 

When you leaned in to take his cock into your mouth, he gripped your throat roughly. Your mouth opened on reflex, but he held you there, just out of reach. 

His other hand came to tug heavy strokes at his cock, right in front of your face. He moaned savagely, fixated on the sight of you slick and naked below him. Your back arched at nothing, frantically searching for some friction. 

He looked like a god above you, his shadows swirling deliciously along his powerful form, his wings shaking with pleasure. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and stuck to his sweat-dampened forehead as he panted and pumped himself. 

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me?” you said hoarsely, desperate. 

You saw the challenge land when his molten eyes sharpened. His hand stilled. 

“I don’t remember you being such a brat,” he growled, but his eyes gleamed wickedly. 

He pulled you up for a kiss, his hands coming to play with your ass, massaging viciously. The dull ache between your legs throbbed at his hot touch. 

“And I don’t remember you being such an ass,” you retorted, but your words lacked any real vitriol, eager as you were for his touch. He sensed it, and let your bratty words slide.

“I've missed that mouth almost as much as your tight pussy,” he purred devilishly, unfazed. 

He must have meant it too, since two of his thick digits trailed between your legs while he spoke. There was a gleam in his eyes as he felt your slickness, and it wasn’t humility. 

“So wet, baby,” he muttered. “All this for me?” 

You whined and leaned into his shoulder, shuddering at the teasing stroke. His shadows slipped away from your wrists, leaving no discomfort save for your sore tendons. 

Azriel tapped your ass once, his assured satisfaction putting him in a good humor. 

“Up on the bed for me, angel,” he directed.

His command sent a shiver down your sweat chilled spine, the anticipation heating your skin. You mounted the bed, and he positioned you on your stomach. He pulled a pillow under your hips, kissing your shoulder tenderly. You shook with nerves. Your arousal was seeping down your legs. You’d been waiting for this since you’d seen his unmistakable physique striding through the crowd. 

“That comfortable?” he asked, some care peaking through the haze of his lust.

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know if I’m being too rough, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, pressing your chest to the cushions to ease your ass back against him. The towering male ignored your spurring move, instead he pulled you up to your knees for a kiss. 

You couldn’t be mad at him as he captured your lips so tenderly, even as he was unwilling to give you a moment of control. Your body was pulsing with a delicious heat, pressed against his chest, tasting spice and earth on his tongue. 

The Illyrian’s soft lips were depraved, practically sucking at your teeth. His ferocity left you lightheaded, you were helpless under his power. His hard need against your lower back brought your mind to the matter at hand.

“Too scared to fuck me, huh, Az?” you taunted. 

He bit your lip, snarling as you pressed your ass against his throbbing length. 

“This your first time?” you mocked. 

Azriel let out a humorless laugh at that. 

“You’re trouble,” he hissed, grinding his cock against your lower back. You whined at the fiery contact, so close but so far from what you needed. 

“You like trouble,” you grinned.

“I do,” he agreed.

With one last searing kiss, he pushed your shoulders down so that you came to rest on your forearms. He draped your legs over his thighs. The dips between your legs and pelvis burned as he brought your hips up to meet him where he kneeled. 

He dragged his cock along your soaked folds, teasing you. He groaned deeply, the sound landing in your abdomen. Without warning he slammed into you. You bit the pillow deliriously to stifle your moan as he cursed. 

“Shit. I forgot how perfect you were for me, baby,” he purred as you adjusted. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you cried. 

He responded with another groan, and pulled out near fully to ram into you again. You clenched around him involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, “you’re gripping me like…” he trailed off into another deep groan, the sound vibrating like a shock through your flesh.

“Faster, Az,” you gasped. 

Something in him snapped when you cried his name. The male began to pound you without restraint. His hands on your hips were sure to leave bruises, but you were far beyond care. His pace was relentless, gone berserk in his lust. His shadows leapt out, suddenly larger than life. The tendrils of shadow felt acutely like an audience, even pressed into the cushions you felt the heat of their attention. 

“That's it, baby,” he growled. His praise made your flesh rise, a whine pitching from your heaving throat. 

“Does he make you feel this good?” The question surprised you, as did the crooked thrill it sent through your teeth. 

“No,” you confessed with a sigh. His resounding gasp died in a strangled moan as you clenched around him at his perverted words. Served him right, you thought, as he destroyed your insides. 

“Say my name,” he commanded suddenly. 

“Azriel!” You barely managed to voice it as you moaned wildly. 

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he taunted. “I want the whole city to know.”

You screamed his name as he pushed into you with a particularly punishing thrust. His cock scraped your walls agonizingly. It was addicting how he filled you so perfectly. 

His hand came to press up on your lower stomach, and he groaned at the feeling of his cock filling your guts. The pressure had you bucking your hips onto him, chasing the feeling. 

“Look at that,” he murmured, and you weren’t even sure if he intended you to hear. “You’re taking me so well.”

Long gone was the reserved male from the event this evening. He had been replaced by an insatiable double, just as dark but deliciously unrestrained.

The pillow beneath you was a useless anchor amidst the crashing waves of pleasure. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, your senses were a riot. The room filled with your tandem grunts and moans, and the scent of your sex laced the thick air. You felt his mouth on your spine, heat unfurling down your back, and your bones went unstrung under his hot touch. 

The ache in your abdomen had erupted into an ecstatic pulse. Your pleasure mounted as the shadowsinger’s moans became breathier. His hips began to stutter, yet his pace was punishing as ever. He brought two thick fingers to rub fast circles on your throbbing clit as he hurtled towards his release.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned with a salacious whine.

He pulsed inside of you as his thrusts stilled abruptly. You couldn’t help but turn your head and watch as he came undone. It was as satisfying as your own bliss to witness his. 

His eyes were shut tight in ecstasy while the rest of him slackened, his back arching involuntarily as he convulsed. You’d never seen something so jaw achingly erotic in all your days.

Amidst his orgasm, his coarse fingertips never paused their assault against your heat. You arched back onto him, the feeling of his aching member sending you into oblivion. The pressure of his expert hands paired with the erotic sight of him drunk off your core had your release shattering over you. 

The waves of bliss that had been cresting slowly all evening crashed over you all at once in an undeniable blow. It had your body tensing and loosening all at once, your nerves on fire. He worked you through it as you cried, trembling beneath him. 

When your fists eventually unclenched from the sheets, he came to an inevitable halt. He pulled out gingerly, mindful of your present state of hyper sensitivity.  

He kissed your shoulder as he turned you over. He checked you for any damage, just like you were a comrade fallen in battle. You were utterly spent, but unharmed. The exhaustion was gratifying, a welcome ache from an evening much enjoyed.

“That was bliss,” you told him.

“Top shelf, for sure,” Azriel agreed, eyes still dancing over your naked form like he was committing it to memory. 

His face was pleasantly unguarded as he spoke. Something suspiciously like a smile played on his swollen lips. The spymaster’s features were surprisingly easy, decompressed as he was in the aftermath of such cataclysmic delight. 

You had been the perfect diversion for him, and he for you. True to form, he didn’t idle with you as you lounged, fully drained, in your rumpled sheets.

Azriel dressed efficiently, which is to say that you weren't yet prepared for his stunning body to disappear under his clothes, not so quickly. That was the thing about indulging a vice, these things were never meant to linger. 

He stood next to your bed, suddenly assuming an air of professionalism, like you hadn’t just been screaming his name. 

“If I'm ever in town again…” he began, tentatively.

“I’ll be here,” you laughed. You meant it humorously, but the words rang hollow in the empty air. 

“Good,” he noted with satisfaction. 

His words weren’t quite a promise. Still, the meager sentiment had something almost like hope flaring in your sunken chest. Darkness was wrapping itself thickly around his form, like he was gathering his things to leave. 

He kissed you once more, slowly, as if he was memorizing the feeling of your mouth on his. And then he was gone, taking his shadows with him. 

The sudden light of the room hurt your eyes. You blinked away the tears, swallowing the horror that rose at their arrival, bitter as bile. You sniffed once before snapping to work. 

Within a few minutes, you’d erased every trace of your charmed evening. 

The shadowinger hadn't left so much as a hair as a sign of his presence, and even the bed was cold again by the time you crawled under fresh sheets. Sleep came mercifully quick, surrendering you to a world of dreams. 

✸✸✸

The next night, your husband was gone again, his dinner untouched on the long table where you'd carefully laid his place at the head. 

Usually, on nights like these, you would relish the freedom of the empty home and set a fire in the hearth. It was a frivolous excess, but so was most of your life. 

The fire was part of a game you played, where you would picture everything you hated, everything and everyone you wanted to see burn. Some nights, it soothed you to picture it, your personal apocalypse. Other nights, the warm flame felt like an insult, its wagging tongues mocking your petty, helpless game. Nights like those were the worst, the void more humiliating than any offense. They left you feeling vapid, foolish. 

Tonight however, instead of your customary game at the hearth, you found yourself sitting alone in the wide expanse of your bed. You’d lit a solitary candle; not to banish the darkness, but to invite the soft shadows it spread. Their quiet company was a cold comfort to your heart, where a fragile, unfamiliar flame was just flickering to life. 

_

A/N: Thanks for reading :) I can't for the life of me write a one shot so this might have to become a blurb-y little series of an unpredictable and torturous affair. Who better to have as an affair partner than this sexy spy? He’s big dicked and discreet– everything you need ... Re: ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know’ – "I did her on his birthday" is the *coldest* line and I feel like Azriel is a little shit on the down low and would get off on that... If you have scenarios in mind for future episodes, please send them my way ;) 

Let me know what we think! And did the last sex position make sense?? I was struggling to explain it.