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#do I miss that game every once in a while? yes
fallstaticexit · 2 days
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Trigger Warning: Intimate Scene (Sim Spice) / Death mentioned // Transcript & AN under the cut
Prev/ Part III: Wife - Coming Soon / Beginning/ Pillowfort
୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨
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Coming soon is Part III, in which we will experience the next chapter in Nancy's life—as a wife, mother, and businesswoman. Nancy has put her past behind her and is working hard to continue elevating her family's business while raising two rambunctious boys with her husband and business partner, but is it all truly enough to keep her past and her desires at bay? Can she continue playing the perfect wife and mother when temptation shows up at her front door?Trigger Warnings: infidelity, drug use, sex and nudity.
AN: I will admit this update was killer. The lighting for the Queenie and Nancy scene drove me up the wall and I was debating to cut it after so many attempts at reshooting it. I couldn't bear to do it because of how absolutely important it was for Nancy to hear her mother's bitter self reflection. For context, Nancy and Geoffrey spends holiday break at Nancy’s parent’s cabin. There was a small scene before Nancy's talk with her mother and her deciding to pick Geoffrey of just them celebrating the holiday together with Nancy's parents and Nancy seeing how distant her own parents were with each other vs how Geoffrey was with her. I guess with me being sick and my game crashing I lost the drive to keep having to fix it. I hope this update reads well without it😞 💜
AN cont.: So what's next: I'm going to take another mini break to prep for Part III in which Nancy trades in her sad girl era for her hot girl office siren era 💅🏾. During the break, I'll be starting my sim downloads (which depending on when you see this, I've already posted them or will post them within the hour) I also have a pose coming for download too as a thank you for everyone who has been enjoying and viewing my story so far! ✨
Transcript:
[’You have 1 New Message’]
Nancy: [exhales] Vanessa... it’s me, Nancy.
Nancy: I’ve spent every day the last two years thinking of what I’d say if I ever got the chance to speak to you again...
Nancy: There’s just so much I want to say. I miss you. I miss your voice. Hearing it just now made me cry. It made me want to laugh [sniffles, chuckles]. I’m so happy I didn’t forget the sound of your voice. You still sound the same. You still sound like my Vanessa.
Nancy: Do you still look the same? Are you still as beautiful and bright as the sun? Are you still a blonde? In my dreams, I see red. I’d like to think you slowly grew the color out of your hair. There’s nothing in the world like a fiery redhead. There’s no one in the world like you.
Nancy: [sighs] I know I don’t have much time before this call ends. I want to ask you so many questions. There are so many things I need to know and so many things I have to tell you, but when you listen to this, I need you to know first that I love you, Vanessa. I'm so in love with you.
Nancy: I should have told you that after we kissed. I should have said it between each breath. I should have whispered it into your skin. I should have said it until I lost my voice, until it’s the only truth we knew.
Nancy: Do you love me, Vanessa? Do you love me too? Do you miss me so much it hurts to breath? Call me. I need you to call me. Please. My number is 932-
[’Message Deleted’]
-
Nancy Narrates: [She never called. Every day that past, I felt my heart break more and more]
Queenie: Nancy, is that you?
Nancy: Yes mother.
Queenie: [slurs] Sit with me awhile, will you?
Queenie: [sighs] Oh, Nancy. You truly have it all, don’t you?
Queenie: I had to marry a man I met once in order to elevate my family status. I bore his children, and now I support him while he runs an empire. It hardly mattered what I was capable of; he made me a mother. There was no better gift, no greater task to have, but then my son dies. Now all I have left is you. Because my son is dead, you get to stand in his place and inherit it all. All of this is now yours, and all you had to do was be born. That’s it. You will never know true sacrifice and loss. You get to live so effortlessly. [hums] My lucky girl.
Queenie: But you will be great, won’t you? All that I’ve loss will not have been for nothing, will it?
Nancy: I- I promise, mother. I’ll be great.
Queenie: [softly] Good girl.
Nancy Narrates: [ I understand.]
-
Nancy: [softly] Make love to me.
Geoffrey: Are you sure?
Nancy: I’m sure. You’re the one I want.
Geoffrey: [softly] Nance.. I love you so much.
Nancy Narrates: [I’ve grown to love him. I’ll grow to love this too]
Nancy Narrates: [Whatever it takes]
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yanderemeganekko · 1 year
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hello!! i just wanted to ask, is it alright to use your translations to add to fandom wikis ? credit would of course be given. perfectly alright if not!! have a good day/night
Oh man, I didn't think anyone even read those anymore. I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume this may be related to the recent activity on the Cocktail Prince server (I'm still on it FWIW, in case I'm right and anyone wants to ping :>). In any case, it's fine with me!
Though to note, I'm not entirely certain they're 100% accurate, which I was frank about back in the day already since my Japanese isn't the best it could be. Unfortunately in case of kkpr there's no longer a way to verify anyways (RIP), so it's not a huge deal. If having a piece of mobage history backed up means anything to anyone, I'm just happy to hear that.
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gottagobuycheese · 1 year
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there’s got to be a faster way to play this game but How
#not that I don't absolutely love meandering my way around this world and chatting to all the NPCs#but I want to start octopath traveller ii when I still have time and before there are too many spoilers floating around#and I can't DO that when I'm barely even halfway through the first one#at this rate it's going to be years before I finish...#which is fine but like also. I want to Know What Happens#I could do this by just looking up the stories sure but I want to PLAY IT#but I want to play it faster >:(#<- says the person who learned you can fast-travel between taverns somewhere around hour 60 or so yet has refused to do so#‘~60.5 hours for the main game and maaaaaybe 100-ish for completionists’ BUT WHAT ABOUT PEOPLE WHO ARE BAD AT FIGHTING#WHAT ABOUT PEOPLE WHO NEED TO TRAVEL ON FOOT EVERYWHERE BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO WEAK TO MISS OUT ON ANY EXPERIENCE#WHAT ABOUT PEOPLE WHO FORGET WHERE ALL THE HIDDEN CHESTS AND SIDE QUESTS ARE AND HAVE TO RE-FIND THEM EVERY TIME#all these side quests are haunting me...yes this name sounds familiar no I do not know from when or where#good luck finding your lost lover sir#I'm pretty sure I've met her like 4 times but I can't remember where she is#and because I hit A too fast you will no longer tell me her name :/#could I simply look up this information? yes. but I want to bumble around authentically as much as possible like with botw#‘IS THERE A FASTER WAY TO DO THIS!!’ I scream while doing everything as slowly and inefficiently as possible#cheese plays octopath traveller#<- unlikely to be used more than once but Who Knows#I'm glad I actually got to play video games today though even if it didn't quite hit the level of enjoyment i was hoping for#two unexpected days of in a row man I never want to go back to work#but I also don't want to exist in my own head forever doing nothing#I don't want to move forward. but I also don't want to stay here#do you see the Dilemma#anyways time to go train h'aanit on the way back to whoever the heck's chapter 3 I was supposed to be getting to#while training for tressa's chapter 3 that I put on the backburner years ago because the boss was too hard#I LIKE to think our posse is strong enough to take it now but I feel like I keep disproportionately training certain people over others#it's so much harder to keep everyone on relatively equal footing in this game than in pokemon :(#Primrose my first ever companion how I miss thee </3 I'm sorry I so rarely need to use your skills for anything
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distantdarlings · 23 days
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STRAY FROM ROUTINE // m. riddle
RATING: R / 4.5K WORDS
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Mattheo Riddle x Fem Reader Insert
+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* You wake up with an evil plan to ignore Mattheo Riddle until he cracks.
+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, spanking, thigh-hitting, dom!mattheo, sub!reader, mean mattheo, slight breeding kink, controlling mattheo, reader is resisting (but she's doing it on purpose), toxic relationship values, name-calling, degradation, language, not fully proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)
+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -
Ride or Die, Pt. 2 - Sevdaliza (I can't get it out of my head :'))
- - -
The inspiration that struck you as soon as you woke up was one of some kind of age-old genius. The motivation that came with it seemed to cloud your mind like some kind of drug, flooding your mind and inhibiting all other thoughts that attempted to enter your brain the rest of the day.
You had always been a bit of a shit-starter when it came to Mattheo Riddle, but today, you were feeling downright sinister.
Your eyes flicked across the room to catch the dark boy’s oaken eyes. His strong hand lifted from the counter to toy with his bottom lip teasingly. Every move was calculated, down to the way his shoulders moved when he took in a breath.
He skirted through his usual routine of tracing his eyes slowly down your body, then flicking them back up to steel his eye contact. For the first few months of your relationship with him—if that’s what you wanted to call it—that whole intimidating facade had worked on you effortlessly. But now, you knew he was more bark than he was bite. That was, as far as you could tell.
You supposed that after sleeping with him so long, he’d have lived up to his whole King Mattheo act, but he'd fallen short. You were disappointed, to say the least. The majority of the entire student body, including some teachers, were terrified of this boy that currently stared you down, but you seemed to be missing something.
Was he good in bed? Hell yes. Could he get mean? Also yes, but where was the difference? As far as you could tell, he didn’t fuck any differently than any other Slytherin boy you’d been with. They were practically all the same. Mean, dominant, and rough. They usually had some kind of ego to keep up—or a tiny dick to compensate for. Whatever it was, Mattheo didn’t seem any different.
He was mean, dominant, and rough. The only thing that had surprised you about him was how gentle he was beneath it all. With every bruising thrust, his fingers cradled your hips gently where others gripped with their nails. With every mark he sucked into your skin, he darted a tongue out to soothe where others let it simmer. He was a rough lover, but he was still a lover. The others were just rough.
That was what had kept you going back to him so many times. But you were getting impatient. It was time for Mattheo to step his game up, or you were going to get bored. You wanted him to prove to you that he was different. But you didn’t want to have to ask for it. You just wanted him to know to do it.
By the time the last of the breakfast crowd had dissipated and the campus prepared for their first periods, Mattheo hadn’t broken eye contact once. Nor had you. If there was one thing you weren’t going to do—for Mattheo or any one else—it was back down from a challenge. If he wanted to tease and stare and frustrate, you’d do the same.
Finally, he stood with the rest of his group of friends. They headed toward the door but his focus remained on you.
The tip of his wand peeked out from the edge of his uniform sleeve and, with a few mumbled words, a small slip of paper had collapsed from the tip of the wooden object. It hit the floor silently, and weaved through the swarm of feet marching through the Great Hall. Once it had reached you, it stopped just before your shoes beneath the table.
At risk of being caught by your friends, you refused to glance down at it. But, just like he always did, Mattheo had thought of everything. With a shiver, you felt the piece of paper slide up your leg like a slithering snake.
It slunk over the curve of your knee and seemed to wait for you to grab it. Ignoring the thought that it seemed to be alive like some sort of bug, you slipped your hand beneath the table and pulled the slip of paper toward you. Discreetly, you opened it up and looked down at it.
How do you want me to take you today? was scrawled in heavy, broad strokes across the sliver of parchment.
You bit back a smirk. That little fucker.
But, no. With the inspiration you had today—the inspiration to push Mattheo Riddle as close to the edge as possible—you weren’t going to allow him the satisfaction.
In fact, you were going to ignore him entirely until he cracked. That was the plan and you were settled with it. While this likely wasn’t the best thing for your own health, you weren’t too concerned. Mattheo Riddle was an asshole, but he wasn’t a murderer. You were pretty sure, anyways.
Satisfied with your decisions, you smiled lightly and pushed the piece of parchment into the first pocket of your school bag. As soon as you returned to your room, it would be placed with all of the other notes he had passed to you. Even though you weren’t wildly impressed with Mattheo’s performance so far, it was still nice to have the dirty, little notes sitting around for a rainy day.
- - -
And throughout the rest of the day, you stuck to your plan like glue. Every stare, every sneaking touch, every whispered word from Mattheo was met with a brick wall. You simply weren’t interested in any aspect of his usual antics, today. He needed to earn what he refused to admit he wanted so badly, which was you.
And by third period, you could tell he was nearly ready to explode. His jaw was clenching and unclenching, his fists were wrapped so tightly together, the knuckles were almost completely white. He was fucking angry—possibly angrier than you had ever seen him. And that was exactly what you had wanted. You wanted him to know that you were a million times different than any of the other girls he’d romanced so far.
He tried once more to entice a little desire from you just toward the end of class. The two of you sat in the last two rows at the very back of the classroom.
The room was elevated with the back rows at the highest point of the room, overlooking the rest of the class. Any secret movements were noticed simply by the backs of heads and a nonchalant teacher.
Mattheo sat directly behind you with one of his unnamed friends to his left, and another to that boy’s left. You were alone on your row. The class was not that big. But this was exactly the kind of environment a sly boy like Mattheo Riddle loved. He would take any opportunity he could to slide his dirty lips against your ear and whisper any deviance that popped into his head at the moment. And that’s what he’d done.
His head had settled just beside yours. You’d heard his breathing before even notice the heat from his skin radiating onto yours. A shiver passed through your body at his proximity. Annoyed at your body’s involuntary reaction to the dark boy, you slipped your arms beneath the table to hide the chills sprouting across your flesh.
He must have seen them, though, because a small breath of a smirk passed across his face in your peripheral.
“I don’t know what your game is, little girl,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But you’d better straighten that attitude up, or I swear, I’ll fix it myself.”
He didn’t say another word before he leaned back against his own seat, leaving you to wonder whether or not this was a good idea. You reminded yourself that intimidation was his shtick. That was the majority of the reason everyone was so frightened of him. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually beaten anyone up or done anything to anyone who’d wronged him. Like you’d said, he was all bark.
Still, despite his threatening words, you simply flipped your hair over your shoulder and completely ignored him. He scoffed, seemingly suppressing a laugh. He was mad. But he wasn’t going to admit that to you right now.
Besides, you were sure you’d never hear the end of it once it was all said and done.
Once the teacher had announced that class was over and recited the homework assignment to a crowd of deaf ears, you gathered all of your things quickly and made a beeline for the door. You hadn’t even given Mattheo a second to gain a bit of awareness before you were out the door and halfway down the hallway.
You didn’t have a fourth period, but Mattheo did. He had Potions for the next hour, giving you just enough time to spruce up your appearance a bit and prepare for the storm that was brewing. You knew Mattheo well enough by this point to know how this evening was going to go. He would threaten your body within an inch of its life, ask if you ‘knew who he was,’ then he’d fuck you. Just like he always did. There was too much of a pattern. Not enough spontaneity to keep you occupied—you needed more. Hopefully, today was what did it for him.
The dormitory you shared with your mates was completely barren due to their schedules. Out of the five of you, you were the only one that had chosen fourth period as your free period. It seemed odd to you that they would rather have a late start to the day, than an early end. In your opinion, you’d wake up as early as you had to, if it meant you did not have to yawn your way through the last classes of the day.
You dropped your bag onto your bed and made for the small desk that was positioned just beside the headboard. It was stocked with all of your personal hygiene products—organized impeccably—and various bits of stationery for schoolwork. It served as both a desk and a vanity for you while you were getting ready in the mornings—or getting ready to see Mattheo.
You hoped he would be desperate all through his class. You hoped his eyes would be flickering around nervously, his knee bouncing rapidly, sweat dripping down his throat. It would be a sight to behold.
Mattheo was gorgeous—there was no denying that. It was just his attitude that needed adjusting. You smirked to yourself before taking a seat at your desk, glancing at your appearance in the small mirror you’d propped up against the stone wall.
And before you were even able to apply a second layer of mascara, the large wooden door in the corner of the room rattled violently. Three aggressive knocks permeated the silence so roughly the dust motes illuminated by the sun shuddered wildly.
A chill of anticipation settled in your stomach. Surely, that couldn’t be him. Fourth period had barely even begun.
You rose from your desk and crossed the length of the room, every step echoing through your body like a cannon. Why were you so nervous? The possibilities of consequences of your own actions were really starting to rattle around in your skull.
Your fingers wrapped around the bronze door handle and pulled.
Sure enough, on the other side, stood Mattheo Riddle. A malicious smirk was printed across his lips. He glanced around a few times, seeming to scan the surroundings of your dorm.
“Hi, is there anyone else here?” he asked, his voice sickly sweet. The courteous role he was playing made you all the more nervous. He never acted this way, even when he’d come to your dorm in the past. He was usually just as brash as he usually was, no matter who was in the room.
“No, there’s not,” you said, your voice annoyingly shaking just a bit. “And if you don’t mind, I’m actually pretty busy—”
Just as you started to push the door closed again, Mattheo’s foot slammed against it, completely blocking its path. You tried to push against him, but he was much too strong for you to defend against.
“I’m sure you can spare a few moments for a quick chat,” he nearly growled, never dropping the fake smile planted on his face. His strong arm pushed against the door, rendering your protection of it completely useless. He pushed through and into the room as if you’d never been holding it in the first place.
He kicked the door shut behind him as soon as he stepped through, the door clunking shut with a rough thud. You suppressed a flinch at the loud sound, refusing to show any sign of vulnerability. You couldn’t pull away from your plan now that you were feeling his anger—that was cowardly.
“Mattheo, I’ve asked for you to leave,” you warned.
“Yeah? Just answer one question for me, baby…” he said, stepping directly into your personal space and invading it in every way possible.
As if asking for permission, he raised his hand slowly and let it hover just next to your cheek. When you did nothing, he placed his fingers along your jawline. They stroked gently across a small surface area, insisting that you felt every searing second of contact.
His face came impossibly close against yours. His warm breath fanned slowly across your cheek, hints of fire and cinnamon lingering beneath your nose. The feeling of his lips skirting slightly over your skin on the way to your ear sent a myriad of chills down the length of your arms and a pool of heat between your thighs. You silenced a shudder on its way through your lips.
“Did you act that way on purpose?” he whispered. His lips caressed the curvature of your ear, his hot words curling around the room. “If not, I’ll find a new girl to open her legs when I want. But if you wanted this, I will make you regret ever having turned away from me.”
You swallowed thickly, the sound piercing the blanket of silence that fell around the room the minute Mattheo stopped speaking. It irked you to no end, that the entire world seemed to hold its breath to wait for this boy. This dark, irritatingly impossible to resist boy. It was more than you were able to handle, no matter how determined you were to prove a point.
“What I wanted…,” you trailed off coldly. “Was for you to prove to me that you’re not exactly like every other Slytherin that waltzes in here, comes in ten seconds, and then asks me if I’ve finished. I’ve been waiting for that special something to jump out at me, but it just hasn’t. I’m getting bored of you, Mattheo.” You took a deep breath, gaining enough courage to flatten your face and select your next words perfectly. “Speaking of, I was wondering if your friend, Enzo, was single.”
You struggled to not smirk at his reaction. If you didn’t know Mattheo, you’d have assumed he was going to crash out and leave the room. But you knew him and his destructive tendencies. His rage, though extremely stigmatized, was something to be in awe of, and you were ready to see it. And to be the target of it.
His eyes darkened until they were barely reflecting any of the dim light around the room. His lips parted slightly, just enough for an evil smirk to stretch across his face. He was all dark eyes and sharp canines, and it looked as if he were desperate to sink them into your flesh.
“You’re fucking done,” he whispered menacingly.
Then his hand was around your throat, firm and bruising. He walked you backwards until your back roughly hit the stone wall, the cold rock biting into your shoulder blades. His lips met yours with a fervor you’d never seen before.
His tongue cruelly parted your lips and laid claim to the entirety of your throat. You could hardly breathe with the pressure he was applying around your neck and the force of his kiss. Yet, still, you could not deny the heat building within your stomach and radiating downwards.
His free hand wrapped around your waist, the fingers slipping slyly beneath the waistband of your uniform skirt. Just as always, in the midst of the fiery storm, his fingers were able to imitate some form of softness just long enough for his hand to prepare to rip your skirt away. Despite the roughness he provided everywhere else, his fingers were gentle as they slid along your skin so as not to pinch it against the wall. It was just thoughtful enough to melt your heart down into a broiling golden puddle.
His strong hand gripped the material of your bottoms and pulled them roughly down, revealing the absence of anything beneath, save your blackened tights. When he lifted his hand once more to tear your panties away, he recognized the lack of material within his fingers and growled against your lips.
“You fucking wanted this, you dumb slut,” he spat, his pearlescent teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip. With a whimper and flash of white across your vision, he finally released you, leaving behind a thin slathering of blood across your teeth.
“You wanted me to tear you to pieces,” he whispered, his hand finally freeing your throat, but only to get to work on ripping your uniform shirt apart. The buttons clattered wildly across the floor, rolling freely each in their own directions.
You moved to protest but Mattheo shoved you back against the wall. He shook his head as if in disbelief you’d even try to get away from him at this point in time. In his mind, this was well-deserved punishment. If you were his girl, you were going to fucking listen to him. You knew what you were getting into when you first laid your lips on his.
With your shirt split down the middle, the only thing standing between his lips and your heaving body were a lacy bra and a pair of tights. The cold, gray air hit your soaked body so aggressively, you thought your teeth might start clacking together.
“All this going to waste because you couldn’t ask me for what you wanted,” he whispered. “I’m going to have to destroy this gorgeous body, when it should be worshiped.”
To your disbelief, he sank down to his knees and placed his hands gently on the back of your thighs. His scorching mouth made contact with your thighs—still covered in the thin material of your pantyhose—and he began to place wet, biting kisses along your flesh. He moved slowly from just above your knee to the top of your thigh. Each mean kiss ached as if they were done by a wild animal, but—just as he always fucking did—he soothed them with his skilled tongue afterwards. Never letting you hurt for too long.
Once he reached your core, fluttering in anticipation, he took a deep breath. The scent of your desire filled his senses as if it was his last meal. Just from how he’d loved in the past, you could tell that he was refraining from devouring you. But this was a punishment. No matter how sweet or caring he so often was, he was never going to let you have what you wanted.
“But that won’t do today…” he whispered against the surface of your tights just above your core, so close that his lips brushed across the sensitive skin. You withheld a whimper.
“Seems like it wasn’t happening any other day, either,” you chuckled breathlessly. You weren’t dropping this fucking routine. You wanted this and every inch of teasing Mattheo wanted to give you.
He laid a biting slap across your left thigh. The sound of it echoed throughout the room, only being interrupted by the cry that left your lips at the sudden abuse.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” he demanded, his hand soothing the sore flesh.
He pressed one more kiss to the blossoming handprint, before sliding a short nail against the hosiery, ripping it instantly.
You gasped at the sensation, watching as he pulled on the material. It shredded down your leg, exposing your bare thighs to the pale light. Flaming red fingerprints bloodied the soft flesh and marked you as his.
Despite your annoyance at his lack of excitement during the last few times you’d fucked, the feeling of possession that he’d laid on you always made an impression. You felt like you belonged to him in every aspect of the word.
Then before you were able to let another smart-ass comment fly, he slipped his hand beneath the large shear in the tights and ripped a hole right across your aching groin, baring your searing cunt to the world.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
Even though he was intending to punish, Mattheo couldn’t help but appreciate your body just a little bit. Though he wouldn’t admit it just yet, he could die happily buried within you.
Seeming to realize his “punishment” was a bit too sweet, he gripped your hips roughly and flipped your body around to face the wall. You helped aloud as the craggy stone bit into the skin of your breasts through your bra. The lace mixed with the cold wall made your nipples prick almost uncomfortably.
“Gonna fuck some manners into you, baby,” he murmured, his gravelly voice echoing against the curve of your spine. His mean fingers traced each nodule of each vertebrae until he reached the dimples imprinted in the small of your back.
His thumbs pressed deep against them, rubbing an easy massage into them for just a second.
“Feel good? You got any other dumbass things to say?”
“Why waste my breath? I’m gonna have to fake my fucking orgasm in a few seconds.”
You bit back a moan as he reached through your legs, gripped the hole he’d ripped in your tights, and widened it between your thighs. He pulled it up and over your ass.
“Yeah? You fake it every time, baby?” he growled into your ear, his heavy bulge pressing into your bare ass.
“Yeah,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your hands were settled against your desk, fingers tightened around the edges, nails scratching into the wood. Your back was arched uncomfortably against his core, begging for every slight thrust he pressed into you. You could practically feel him within you already.
“You fake it every time you cum all over my cock, huh?” he asked. Behind you, you could hear him wrestling his belt out of its loops and dropping his trousers.
“Answer me, bitch,” he demanded, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back against his chest.
“Fuck, Matty, that hurts!” you whined. It was a good, searing kind of pain but you didn’t want him to know that. Didn’t want him to know that your arousal was dripping down your legs by now.
“Yeah? That hurts?” he taunted. “That’s nothing, baby. You can take it.”
Then suddenly, his hot core was leant against the top of your ass. You were biting back a moan and running your fingers into the desk so hard they were going numb. Still, you weren’t going to give up.
“We’ll see if you can give it—fuck!”
He shut you up by slamming himself into you. The force of his intrusion hit your cervix at a sharp angle, sending stars into your eyes.
“Let me hear you fake it, yeah?” he groaned as he pulled himself out of you all the way to the tip before pushing himself back into you.
You couldn’t hide it anymore. Though you could still force some mean comments out every once and a while, you were unable to repress your moans.
“I’m basically an expert at this point!” you moaned.
“I bet,” he growled, his hips increasing in pace. “I know the way you clench around me everytime I take you from behind—” every sentence was pushed out between deep groans that echoed in your womb— “I’ve memorized every possible way you can scream my name…and I’ve learned every single thing I have to do to make that pretty pussy cum all over me.”
Following his words, his right hand snaked around your hip and pressed directly against your clit. He rubbed perfect circles into the sensitive spot, demanding a finish from you as soon as he could pull it from you.
“You’re a bit too cocky for my liking,” you breathed against his ruthless pounding. “I’d still like Enzo’s number.”
And with one final thrust, he pierced the bubble of pleasure that had bloomed rapidly in your stomach. You came impossibly hard, with the evidence of your high embarrassingly gushing around him. He pulled away from you and let your desire cover his stomach.
He laughed almost maniacally at the way your orgasm stretched out for what felt like hours.
And then, as you were finally coming down, he was pumping himself noisily into his hand and coming all of your lower back, painting the dimples he so loved to touch.
He moaned breathlessly, a slight crack in his voice, as he slowed his movements down and came down from his own high.
A tired laugh left his swollen lips as he trailed his finger through the remnants of his spend on your back and pushed his coated fingers into your sensitive entrance.
The overstimulation sent a flurry of ice up your spine. You cried at the sensation. Your legs fluttered before giving out.
On your way down to the floor, he caught you against his arms. Your knees were impossibly weak, but he was ever so strong.
“You faking this too, baby?” he clicked his tongue before settling you against your bed.
“Fuck you,” you sighed, your eyes fluttering against the ceiling. The lightheaded feeling floating through your skull was nearly too much for you to handle, but you were still high up on your pedestal and refused to come down.
Distantly, you could hear him pulling his pants up and rearranging his clothes.
Gently, he slid the remainder of your hosiery down your legs, unhooked your bra, and lifted you up off of the bed bridal-style. Somehow managing to cradle you with just one hand, he used his left to yank your comforter back, and settle you beneath it.
He leaned down beside your ear and pressed his lips to your temple. Just before he pulled all the way back, he began to whisper.
“The next time you wanna act like that—just remember that I fucked you to sleep, brat.”
- - -
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sjyism · 3 months
Text
ENHYPEN's HYUNG LINE WHEN THEY'VE FALLEN IN LOVE.
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⋆。°✩ STARRING enha!hyung line x fem!reader GENRE fluff & semi angst WORD COUNT 6.1k words WARNING(S) N/A MENTIONS jungwon and niki cameo NOTE tank boy & jaws bar are korean ice cream :) :: reblogs & feedback are welcome c:
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HEESEUNG (이희승)
❝ between the blurry vision you clearly come to me. ❞
heeseung will always count on you for some fun.
you were at the park attending one of heeseung's late night shenanigans. this happened every friday and this was the most normal thing he's done in over the two months you two started going out at night.
currently, you were on the way to the convenience store that was next to the park to get ice cream since you lost a game of rock, paper, scissors. while you were gone, heeseung sat on the swing and rocked back and forth, waiting for you to come back.
just a few minutes later, he sees you making your way back to the swings and slowly stops the swing. time freezes as he sees your hair blow in the wind with the car's bright headlights creating a spotlight behind you. deep down, he always knew that he had somewhat of a crush on you but didn't make a move as he noticed you weren't interested with anything else besides being best friends.
"they didn't have tank boy so i got you a jaws bar i hope that's okay," you rambled once you arrives, digging through the plastic bag to give him his.
"y-yeah, that's fine. thanks." heeseung gulps, freezing up at how close you were to him.
you didn't catch onto heeseung's actions towards you and he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.
"what's wrong?" you asked, opening your ice cream.
"nothing, but can i ask you something later?"
"why later?"
heeseung leans over to take a bite of your ice cream, "because, now's not the right time."
"hey! that's basically half of it! what the heck hee-"
READ MORE ↴
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JAY (제이)
❝ i’ve fallen in love ever since you came to me ❞
jay always helps you with whatever you need without having been asked by you.
jay watches in awe as you waltz around the kitchen, grabbing whatever ingredients and materials needed to make his favorite cookies.
he wasn't the biggest fan of desserts but when it came to your baking, jay always folded right in half. he also finds it funny as this was the same way you reacted whenever he cooked for you. but it was more common for jay to cook rather than you bake.
"so, are you going to tell me what happened?" you asked as you whisked the ingredients in the bowl.
"what do you mean? nothing happened."
"yes, something did. you always come to me and ask for cookies if something's happened to you. you've done it ever since we were sophomores in high school." you say, pointing the whisk at the boy in front of you.
"okay, okay- jeez. you can put the weapon down." jay replies, putting his hands up in surrender.
you let out a giggle at his comment and go back to whisking, "this isn't a weapon."
"i promise you, nothing happened this time. i just wanted to eat your cookies. i've missed them."
you look up at jay to already see him looking right at you. quickly picking the bowl up, you move towards the stove and start putting the dough on the trays.
jay gets up from his spot and makes his way over to you, leaning in close to where your back was touching his chest.
"here, let me help."
he grabs the tray that was ready and puts it in the oven before setting a timer on his phone.
"thanks," your words begins to fade as you finally realize how close he was to you.
'has he always been this handsome?'
'looking beautiful, like always.'
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JAKE (제이크)
❝ everything i believed in came crashing down ❞
jake will always take care of and protect you.
"hyung."
"yeah?"
"you're in love with y/n, aren't you?"
jake chokes on the soda he was drinking and looks at jungwon with wide eyes.
"are you crazy?! why would i love her?"
jungwon sighs while shaking his head and turns to where you were helping niki cut his birthday cake.
it was super obvious to everyone around jake that he has a massive crush on you. from the way he took care of you and even his tone of voice when he talks to you was so obvious.
just as jake was going to open his mouth to rebuttal again, jungwon nudges his torso and smiled as you made your way over to the two of them with two slices of cake.
"here you go! got a bigger slice for you jake, since you loved it last time at my birthday."
"thanks my love, i appreciate it." he pats your head and watches jungwon thank you for the cake as well.
"my love? yeah- you're totally not in love." jungwon snorts, watching his friend stare at you with heart eyes pouring out of them.
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SUNGHOON (박성훈)
❝ time endlessly went toward eternity also disappeared at the blink of an eye. ❞
sunghoon will always come to you no matter the time and day.
music fills the car as sunghoon races down the highway in the middle of the night. it's one of those nights where you called sunghoon up because you couldn't fall asleep. it's always a hit or miss with him and tonight's one of the lucky moments you get to be with him.
sunghoon turns his head to face you as sees you through the right side mirror with closed eyes, letting the wind blow through your hair. if he listens in closely, he could hear you quietly humming along to the song that was playing.
just as he exits the highway, your face brightens up as you notice that it's the exit to the beach.
"are we going to the beach?!" you say excitedly, sitting up.
"yeah, it's been a while so i figured we could go when no one's around." he replies, smiling softly.
"thank you! thank you! thank you! i love you so much!" sunghoon freezes for a millisecond before patting your arm as you threw your arms around him for a hug.
"yeah yeah, love ya too." he replies, clearing his throat. sunghoon shoots a quick glance over to see if you've noticed any change.
soon enough, the two of you climb out of the car and sunghoon watches as you run towards the water, tripping over your own feet from excitement.
"calm down! the water isn't going anywhere. what if you twist your ankle." sunghoon scolds once he makes his way over to you.
"i'll be fine! besides, doesn't the water look pretty tonight?"
"yeah, it does."
you could feel sunghoon's gaze boring into the side of your face and you know that he hasn't even looked out towards the water ever since you've arrived.
"hey y/n?"
"yeah?"
sunghoon stares at you for a couple of seconds before turning to face the way, letting out a sigh. not now, but maybe later.
"what, do i have something on my face?"
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kairoot · 2 months
Note
hii! i saw your "s/o who is always cold" with enha. could u maybe do the same with s/o who is always warm
͘ ࣭⸰ ✬ ͙ HOTTER, HOTTER „ 
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‧₊˚ 𝓼𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: s/o who is always warm 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : enha x 𝑔𝑛.𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , crack 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : yes ! 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : pet names, physical touch, lmk if i missed anything
— ( 𝓂𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 ) : lowk embarrassing cause that was one of my first fics 😭 pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎
֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪
⊹ 𝓁ℎ𝑠.
heeseung doesn’t understand why you’re always warm but he does what he can in order to cool you down
if it means you both have to sleep without the duvet at night, so be it
or if you have to move to the living room/another room where it’s cooler, he’s going with you
doesn’t care if he’s cold or not
you threw the comforter off of your body, shifting for the fourth time that night. heeseung was sound asleep next to you until you sat up, ready to get out of bed.
“baby?” he sat up, hair fluffy from his pillow. his arm remained around you as he pulled you back into the bed.
“where are you going?”
“to the living room.” you whispered.
“are you warm again?” he opened his eyes all the way, now looking at you with concern.
you nod, throwing the rest of the thick blanket off of you.
without a word, heeseung rolled out of his side of the bed, walking to the door.
“come on,” he held out his hand for you to take. your bows furrowed in confusion but you got up, grabbing his hand and following him.
you both walked downstairs, the breeze from just walking giving you a bit of relief. heeseung guided you into the cool living room, letting go of your hand as he settled on one of the couches across from the first one.
“hee, are you sure you aren’t cold?” you chuckled, almost feeling bad for him coming down there with you.
“i’m good as long as you’re good, honey.” he mumbled, his eyes closing once his head hit the sofa’s pillow.
⊹ 𝓅𝑗𝑠.
he’s kinda concerned
but he takes care of you nonetheless
he adjusts his living for you
meaning, since you’ve moved in together, your apartment’s ac is always blasting
even if it’s in the middle of winter, he’ll buy snacks that cool you down like ice pops and what-not.
overall, he just wants you to feel comfortable
“jeez, why is it so chilly in here?” you shivered at the sudden temperature change as you and jay entered your apartment, setting the groceries on the counter.
“didn’t you say it was too warm for you last night?” he asked, putting some things in the freezer.
“well yeah, but i didn’t realize you would turn it into an icebox in here..”
jay chuckled, turning to face you, “do you want me to change it then?”
“no no, it’s fine, but aren’t you cold?”
he shrugged, “feels great to me.”
yes, he was freezing but he wasn’t going to tell you that.
⊹ 𝓈𝑗𝑦.
jake is so caring when it comes to you
even if you can yourself the slightest, he’ll drop what he’s doing and do anything he can to cool you down (like jay)
he even buys you one of those small handheld fans
he keeps ice packs too, especially on a hot summer day
he buys you a lot of tank tops or any clothes that keep you cool
you sat next to jake while he played one of his games as he occasionally spoke through the mic to his friends. every few minutes, he would turn and check if you were okay or if you needed anything.
but when he saw the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and your hand come up to wave air into your face, he quickly removed his headset.
“you okay, love?” he asked, brows knitted together.
you nodded, still fanning yourself slightly.
“just a little warm, that’s all..”
he said something into his mic before standing up and leaving the room.
he came back with the white fan he bought you and a change of clothes.
“change and then use this, alright? let me know if you want a glass of water or anything.” he kissed your head as you thanked him, turning to head to the bathroom to change.
⊹ 𝓅𝑠ℎ.
once again, hoonie knows when you’re bothered by something
whether you’re someone who’s always warm or always cold, he knows when you are and when you aren’t
you don’t have to say anything
like jake, even if you fan yourself once, he’s already at your side with an ice pop and the ac turned all the way up LMAO
im ngl, he gets concerned too and he may ask you about it
does his research so he can know how to help keep your surroundings just right; not too warm, but not too cold
and if you like it, he might run you a cool shower or bath
also, he often takes you to the skating rink where it’s absolutely freezing
“hoon, what are you doing..?” you watched him from the sofa as he stood by the wall, clicking buttons on the thermostat.
“setting the temperature.” he said plainly.
“i thought it was already set?”
“it was, but i’m fixing it for you.” sunghoon responded as he continued to lower the temperature.
“for me..?”
“yeah. you’re always warm.” he had finally set the thermostat to a reasonable temperature, now joining you back on the sofa to start the movie you wanted to watch.
you smiled as he wrapped his arm around you, absolutely enamored by his thoughtfulness.
⊹ 𝓀𝑠𝑤.
sunoo is someone who’s definitely concerned for you
he takes care of you but also reminds you to take care of yourself, especially when he’s not there to do so
he buys a lot of water for you and keeps fans all over your house
he insists on you drinking it even when you’re not hot
he teases you sometimes, calling you his sunshine since you’re always warm
he likes to make homemade popsicles with you
“hey sunshine, did you drink anything today?” sunoo asks, kissing your cheek before sitting next to you in your shared bed.
“yeah, only water.”
“how much?”
“about.. 7 bottles.”
“hm.. that’s not enough.” he sulked, poking your side.
“sunoo, i literally peed like 11 times today. i’m pretty sure it was more than enough.” you giggled, remembering how you had to pee almost every 30 minutes.
“well, google says—“
“my bladder is telling me something different. if i drink another bottle, i think i’ll piss myself.”
⊹ 𝓎𝑗𝑤.
jungwon takes you on walks to cool you down
even during summer, he’ll wait til the evening or night when it’s cooler and he’ll take you walking
he’s very considerate of you and always making sure you’re not overheating or anything
he also likes to make sure your room is cool before the two of you go to bed
“you okay, baby?” he glances at you as you both walked through your neighborhood. you nod, shuffling closer to him and holding his hand tighter.
“this is nice.”
“the air or the walk?”
“both.” you responded, smiling at him. the air relieved you, cooling down your warm body.
“and being with you. thank you for caring so much.”
“no need to thank me, love. it’s what i’m supposed to do.” he kissed the top of your head. “are you thirsty? still warm?”
you shook your head, “no, i’m okay. the walk is really helping actually.”
he nodded, smiling slightly, continuing your stroll in a comfortable silence.
⊹ 𝓃𝑟𝑘.
ki tends to find this amusing (?) since he tends to get cold easily (idk if this is true it’s just for the hc guys 😢)
he’ll tease you, calling you his “personal heater”
he always puts his hands under your shirt to cool you down and to warm him up
all joking aside, he does try his best to keep you cool even when it’s freezing to him
he’ll surprise you with cold treats like slushies or frozen yogurt
and if it’s a summer day, he might even buy water guns/balloons or visit a pool
“riki, get off of me,” you whined for the third time, trying to push the boy off of you.
“it’s way too hot.”
“you’re warm, though.. aren’t my hands making it better? i’m freezing..” he sulked, his cool hand rubbing circles on your belly.
“i guess..”
“exactly, so stop your whining.” he grumbled, turning to watch the show that played on the tv screen.
“but you’re heavy! and i feel like i’m suffocating.”
he sighed, lifting himself up, “stay here.”
he walked out of the room for a second, coming back a few minutes later with a blue slushy drink in hand.
your eyes lit up as you happily took the drink from his hands, immediately taking sips from the straw.
“thank you, babe.” you smiled.
“yeah, yeah.” he answered playfully, climbing back on top of you.
︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
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azulsluver · 2 months
Note
Ur bully au is so good I could slurp it up but it got me wondering
How would all the students react to the reader just. trying to kill themselves because of the endless torment? would they keep harassing? would they say something about it? or would they tone it down? I must know because If I was in that situation i know damn well unaliving myself would be the first option
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There’s more than one asking but ima just get this over with
tw. yandere, attempted suicide, suicide, cutting, bully!characters, mentioned torture, humiliation, blood, slight gore, neglection, fucked up reader (deadass).
Here are some thoughts and reactions bellow!
When asking, what role does this character do in this so called ‘bully!au’? You have to look at a deeper perspective of how each person behaves, what the intention is, and how it’s done.
So when the subject of suicide is involved it can get confusing depending on what caused it. Self worth is hinted in the reader, insecurities are brought and laughed at because it needs to hit a spot. Because YOU have feelings, watching it be stripped by people in far greater power than you, people with money, influence, and within number. Standing up to a bully is difficult, the struggles you go through should’ve been realistic.
When push comes to shove, they’re not all coming for you. If you enjoy the idea of every character ruining your life— that’s fine— but, it’s usually one or three. I think it’s childish, when I first made this AU, some sort of amusement in finding hurt but comfort when writing, they’re not trying to kill you, you know. You just catch their eye, more than they could like. Rejection is one thing, but another is a fair game of a sadistic approach. Whether they verbally or physically abuse you is up to place bets on what kills you.
For NRC years, yes, they constantly nagged and followed you around. But the times they would actively seek you out would be less than you think, the focus on bullying would be isolation. They don’t have to hurt you everyday. Some time for yourself to heal and think over your situation. What would you eat? Would they play nice and ignore you for tonight? Did your look piss off someone from afar? Let them cheat off you! Don’t be such a bore, it’ll all go back to just you and Grim.
If you picked up self harming, it’s noticeable. Hiding it is nearly impossible. They grab and bite at you already so what makes you think hiding was a good idea? It’s nasty and unplanned, miss them? Miss their touch that you havta recreate it? It’s horrible to mention, but caring really depends on who calls you out.
I can say you like it. Or you fucking hate it. You hate, hateee, how they treat you. You crawl on all fours for them to laugh and pat your head, do a dare and lick off from their hand but money is involved.
What did you do, was it simple, messy, perfect headshot if you will. If your need to die was to simply hurt them in any way— it might work. Poor them, they can’t imagine being away from you for too long. Some are more uninterested than the others. Who gives a shit you died? Whoever had the luck of finding you, dead or in the act, serves a purpose of letting you live or die. Cruel as they may be, you tug at a couple of heart strings.
Let’s say it was an attempt:
Sprang into action, either holding you down or taking whatever object you’re using to harm yourself. They’re gonna make sure this doesn’t happen again, you gave them quite the spook. Have fun being watched 24/7, and if they couldn’t, everything will be baby proofed for your safety, isn’t that nice, they care. Thrash all you want, screaming and crying won’t get you anywhere, but they’ll bite their tongue once and a while to prevent this from happening.
Trey, Riddle, Azul, Vil, Jack, Deuce, Sebek,
Oohh…he’s so sorry. Please forgive him, crying on his knees and rubbing his head against your chest. It doesn’t matter if the blood stains his clothes, you nearly died and he feels awful. He promises so many times for harm to look the other way, twisted, yet unavoidable. Trapped in a tight, monitored schedule were his scent and voice is all you’ll ever need. But at least there’s a change of heart, your health is improving and that’s all that matters to him, but speak to him, he wants to hear you.
Silver, Malleus, Kalim
Should he have stopped you, but what good will it do for him? Frozen in the moment, their bodies do the thinking, rational, to prevent you from escaping them. You’re funny, reaaal funny, got good jokes at time. But, he’s not really laughing. A little, but it’s hysterically funny and scary. Because he’s still so rough, even when he apologizes yet calls you stupid, his fingers hurt you more than whatever you had planned, gripping, as if you really died.
Jamil, Ace, Cater, Ruggie, Leona, Idia, Floyd, Epel
Does it hurt? Did you find your ulna? Was the rope too tight? It feels like he’s only here to see the end credits, the finale. The sick fuck is smiling too, gross. Giving up just leaves you with him by your side, pressing it deeper to help you get the job done…just kidding! That was quite a show you put on, this is why he likes you. Being responsible of another’s cause of death isn’t ideal, so he’ll try to watch you as of now.
Lilia, Rook, Jade
From that list alone you can guess who’s to mourn, and who savors what is left. Death is inevitable. Everyone dies one way.
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beenbaanbuun · 9 months
Text
soft cuddles with ateez
park seonghwa
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he’s sitting on the floor, very intensely reaching the instructions to his new lego set that you bought him
there’s no reaction when you sit next to him to watch as his pretty fingers attach the pieces to one another
it takes about 5 minutes for you to lean your head on his shoulder and snuggle your cheek into his shoulder
he chuckles lightly, but just carries on with his lego, not giving you the attention you so clearly crave
it takes another 5 minutes for you to get bored and try to move away but seonghwa won’t let you
he finally takes his attention away from his lego set when you lift your head and begin to stand up
with a discontented hum, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you straight into his lap
“and where do you think you’re going, hm?” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “stay with me while i make this, yeah?”
you agree and rest your head on him once more, except this time, comforted by his warm cuddles
kim hongjoong
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you get a text from seonghwa at around midnight asking you to go and rescue your boyfriend from the studio
you agree, feelings of excitement and annoyance bubbling up within you simultaneously
excitement because you get to see your boyfriend but annoyance because he was overworking himself… again
it takes 10 minutes to walk to his studio and by the time you get there, you just want some warmth
you walk straight up to his studio, bypassing the receptionist who knows you well at this point, and knock on the door
“the doors open!” he calls out, presumably not wanting to leave his desk for even a second, “oh, hey baby!” he smiles the moment he sees you
you don’t answer him simply ambling over to him and dropping onto his lap
he chuckles and holds you close before going back to his work, idly chit-chatting with you every so often
“your skin is cold, baby. did you walk here?” you nod in response, “you should’ve got a taxi! i’ll finish soon and then we can go home and get warm, okay?”
you fall asleep on his lap before he gets chance to take you home, and the two of you end up sleeping on the sofa in his studio
jeong yunho
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he’s been gaming for what seems like hours and you miss him
yes, you might literally be on your bed, 2 metres away from his desk, but you miss him so bad!
and no matter how many times you call him over and beg him to pay attention to you, you just get the same response
“just one more game and then i’m all yours, honey!”
it was either a really long game, or it was all lies…
you eventually get tired of waiting and scramble out of bed on your tired legs
he doesn’t even flinch when you crawl onto his lap and wrap your limbs around him in a koala-esque fashion
in fact, the most reaction you get is a deep chuckle in your ear and a kiss to your cheek before he goes back to his game
it doesn’t take long for him to finish and say goodbye to whoever it was on the other side of his headset
he just wraps his long arms around your waist and the two of you sit in a comfortable silence on his gaming chair for a while…
kang yeosang
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you’ve had a bad day at work and all you want to do is get home and sit on the couch with your boyfriend
you have so much to complain about and yeosang is such a good listener and feeling his arms around you as you complain would be the best right now
but you get home and yeosang is nowhere to be seen
in fact, the lights are turned off and the living room is completely silent
you sigh, realising your boyfriend must not be home yet, and kick your shoes off before carrying yourself to your bedroom
except when you get to your bedroom, you can’t help but notice a mop of bleached hair splayed across one of your pillows and a yeosang shaped lump under the quilt
you smile, but you don’t say a word as you crawl into bed beside him
he wakes up just enough to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest
he mumbles something that sounds kind of like, “how was your day?” but you can’t tell
“better now i’m with you,” you reply anyway
choi san
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you’re only just awake by the time san comes back from the gym
you open your eyes to him in front of the mirror, checking his own progress as the sweat covering his skin glistens in the soft morning light
“pretty,” you mutter as you watch his muscles flex
he jumps in surprise and spins around to face you with a look of shock
“babe, i didn’t even know you were awake,” he smiles and you can’t help but get all giggly as his dimples show, “just give me a minute to shower and then i’ll come give you your morning cuddles, okay?”
normally you’d agree, but for some reason you’re feeling extra clingy
“come cuddle me now, sannie,” you say as you hold your arms out to him
“i’m sweaty, babe,” he chuckles, “i’ll get the sheets dirty
he gives in when you pout and look at him like you’re about to burst into tears if he doesn’t cuddle you
“sheets can be changed,” you say as he lays with half of his body on top of you, “this is more important right now…”
song mingi
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it’s your day off and yet you’ve spent all of it bored inside of your apartment waiting for your boyfriend to get home from work
first it was supposed to be 1pm, then you get a text letting you know it’d probably be closer to 2pm, and then 3pm
its 6pm now, and you’re staring at the front door as if that’s going to make your boyfriend walk through it any quicker
as sad as it makes you that he’s not with you, you know it’s hardly his fault that works been busy recently
you finally turn away from the door with a sigh and lie down on the sofa
seconds later, you hear the lock click open and a tired sounding mingi announce himself
“i’m home, sweetheart,” he grunts as he kicks his shoes off and slams the door behind him, “sorry i’m l-”
he gets cut off with a grunt when you leap at him and attach your body to his in a tight hug
your thighs are tightly wrapped around his waist and your arms hold onto his neck for dear life
“hi, baby,” he chuckles into your hair, “missed me, did you?”
jung wooyoung
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he’s sick and whilst you’re trying not to get sick yourself, there’s only so much whining you can put up with before it gets insufferable
it starts with him whining about the soup not being warm enough, so you give him a tight lipped grin before replacing it
then suddenly he’s cold and begging for more blankets so of course, you oblige before the sound of his aegyo drives you insane
after you bring back the blankets, he wants tucking in
you give him a look before doing as he asks all while he smirks at you
“somethings still missing, baby,” he pouts and points to his lips, “a kiss?”
“absolutely not,” you shake your head, “i’m not catching the black death just because you’re being whiny!”
“fine, but can you come and check my temperature?”
again, you oblige, but before you can even touch his forehead, he has a hand around your wrist and you’re toppling down onto the bed beside him
his vice-like grip suddenly finds its way around you and you suppose you just have to accept your fate and cuddle him back…
choi jongho
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you haven’t felt great for a while but after an argument with a sibling and just an overall bad day, you decide to retreat to your bedroom with your boyfriends hoodie and a pint of icecream
he promised he’s be there once he finished eating with the rest of the guys, but you don’t know if you can wait that long so you send him a text
you don’t want to be a burden and make him think it’s too urgent, but you still want to make sure he knows you’re not feeling great, so it’s just something short and to the point
you don’t expect him too soon, but within 15 minutes you can hear the tell-tale sound of his spare key sliding into your front door
“i’m here, baby,” he calls as he shuts the door, “where are you?”
you don’t need to respond for him to know you’re in bed, and before you can get a word out he’s already poking his head around the door frame
he gives you a sympathetic pout as he sees your red-ringed eyes and quickly sheds himself of his more sophisticated clothing as he can be comfy as he crawls in beside you
his bare arms wrap around your waist and he brings you as close as humanly possible to his chest
“you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,” he whispers as he pets the back of your head, “but just know that i’m here to listen if you ever want to.”
perhaps tomorrow, you decide as you nuzzle into his neck and let his strong form swaddle you
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thehauntedetheral · 2 months
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HELLO!! I really love your stories and i wanna request something, like a yandere gamer bf or husband that streams for a living, and whenever he is off camera he always wants your attention and love even though he gets attention from the streams he makes.
And when he gets invited to an event, he will be sad since you are not yet known to the internet world, he keeps you a secret since he only deserves you, but when he was streaming, you accidentally And almost let yourself know but a fan noticed it and asked about it
And that's it! Just a quick question, do you take any anons? And i really love your works and i was hoping for a part 2 for the dom Kidnapper yandere, but keep your time! Once again i really, reallyyyy love your works! Bye bye!
Thank you so much for your love. And yes I take anons. I hope you enjoy this fic.
YAN GAMER BOYFRIEND
Requests are open !
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• Yan is a gamer famous for his skills and techniques.
• His streams have millions of view. Other gamers admire him for his skills. He is always bathed in attention and praises from his followers which are a lot that when you saw the number your mouth just fell open.
• This man has the attention of more than million people on his streaming but he wants your attention on him. His so precious y/n.
• As soon as the camera gets off he is a cuddling mess in your arms looking at you with heart eyes.
• He is invited to numerous gaming tournament but whenever he is there he misses you so dearly, wishing you were here. But you can't.
• Because you are his secret. No one knows about you. No one even knows that yan is in relationship.
• When asked by his followers that if he has someone in his life he would say "I am fully focused on my gaming career right now"
• He doesn't tell about you to others because he thinks you are too precious to get to know by anyone but him.
• Is a lot possesive about you.
• No one but he deserves you. You are too good for others to even look at you.
• He is just very much in love with you.
• He wants you all to himself. Just thinking about you with some else makes his blood boil.
• He thinks you are his lucky charm. Hence always carrying something of yours to his every tournament.
• You are everything. His lucky charm, his gf/bf, his future spouse, just everything.
• You are a gamer too but you are just a beginner recently started and still exploring everything.
• Yan would teach you so many skills, techniques, ideas about the game.
• When he is not streaming he would have you lying on his chest while playing and giving you little pecks of kisses in between.
• Plus he looks so fucking hot with his glasses, headset on, agressively punching the buttons by his fingers and intently focused on screen.
• One day accidentally you came in the camera filming region while he was streaming online making everyone question "Who you they?"
"Is it your gf/bf?"
"They are good looking"
• Well that's it as soon as yan saw some people saying you are good looking he has to claim you to make this people shut up. (This man is just too jealous)
" Yes that good looking person is my gf/bf and soon to be my wife/husband. So stop looking at them".
• Hearing yan say your going to get married soon made you gasp and blush both.
• Well this accidental reveal sure was good and beneficial you thought.
• After few days he officially proposed you with beautiful decorations.
• The best thing is that you are officially his now and yan don't have to miss you in his tournaments now as you would be there supporting him with a ring telling everybody that you are already taken.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN !
For more yandere reading :
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eyeritestuff · 3 months
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Billy Kid x Reader Headcanons ☆
—X—
A/N: super into ZZZ right now (and billy.)
CW: nothing, maybe a few suggestive jokes but everything is generally SFW :3 i’m super sleepy and writing this at 1am so bare with me when it comes to spelling and grammar :’)
Reader: Gender Neutral [they/them]
—X—
Billy takes a lot of selfies, especially when on missions, and sends them to you. You don’t know what made him start doing this, but you save each and every one of them and you make sure to drop whatever you’re doing to ask him about it.
Billy is on the spectrum. Don’t ask me the logistics of it, yes he’s sophisticated AI, but hear me out! Though you like to indulge in some childhood nostalgia, you aren’t particularly fixated on watching just one media from your childhood. However, one of the medias you watched back in the day is called Starlight Knight. As soon as you told him you enjoyed that show, he would come to you to talk about it. It wasn’t all the time, of course, but whenever conservation went dry (in person or via DMs), he’d make it a thing to talk to you about it for hours. It didn’t annoy you, not in the slightest. It made you happy to see him so happy about the children’s show, and so you entertained it as much as you could.
When Billy texts, he uses old fashioned emoticons as punctuation. Think ‘ :3 , ^_^ , o_O ’ and then replace it everywhere a period, an exclamation point, or a question mark would be. So many emoticons…
Billy loves to play video games, especially at the arcade. He invites you, and usually you tag along. When you can’t, he sends a selfie of him making a sad face. He’d probably captions it something like ‘Missing my pookie.. 💔💔’
On that same note, Billy will pick up on vocabulary you use and steal it. So if you have a habit of saying ‘pookie’ ? That’s his now. He’s using it all the time.
Billy panics easy when it comes to you. not only when it comes to safety, but also when it comes to romantic scenarios. During times you hang out with Anby and Nicole, they spill all the details of how Billy went on a rampage to find the perfect flowers, or how Billy sat in a corner all morning whining about how he didn’t find the right color outfit for you. Things along those lines!
Sortve related, but Billy gets flustered easily. Especially when you make dirty jokes, most of which aren’t really directed at him. He doesn’t get the jokes at first, but when he does understand them, he reacts in such an over the top and dramatic manner. Flailing around, gasping really loud, whining, yknow the works! One time you made a joke about ‘whimpering audios’ and he didn’t understand it. For a while too! Once he asked enough people (Anby explained it to him), he went silent and locked himself in his room for a considerable amount of time. He wasn’t sad or anything, just… shocked.
Billy isn’t human, so he doesn’t necessarily get injured in the traditional sense. One time he came back from a commission with his arm all battered up. You never seen him so down in spirits! You were able to help him, luckily, because it was only one part on his arm that was damaged that really messed up the rest of it. You kissed his hand, and immediately after inspecting your handiwork, he stuck his hand out again. “I dunno.. my arm still feels wonky. How about another kiss for good measure?”
When you’re bored, you love to dress up as Billy. Well, you’re not really dressing like him, you’re just wearing his jacket. You also like to wear the jacket with certain outfits you think it would look best with. Since your boyfriend is so tall and broad in the arms, you mostly wore it as a shoulder drape in an odd anime fashion statement. Regardless, Billy loved to see you wear it.
Earlier I mentioned Billy loves to take selfies, but I forgot to mention how most of them include you, and despite having all of those selfies of himself, half of his camera roll is you. He likes to sneak pictures of you sometimes! It’s one of his more odder behaviors, but he takes such cinematic pictures of you, even when you’re wearing the worst outfits. You didn’t know how he did it, but it’s one of the things that made the random picture taking somewhat okay.
Billy loves hugs. Don’t ask me how it works in terms of comfort. I would assume it’s the equivalent of sleeping in a car. However, Billy does have plenty of plushies thanks to you, and you use those to your advantage… so it’s not all bad :)
You asked Billy to teach you how to sling guns, and the entire tutorial sesh was just him feeling every inch of your body, memorizing and admiring how you looked. He loved you. All of you! He thought he was being sneaky, but you knew (and secretly loved it too).
Billy loves to carry you on his back and walk around. All I’m saying is, he’s got handlebars on that jacket for a reason… this has to be one of them……
Billy loves stickers. Self Explanatory!
Billy loves giving you gifts. He puts your needs over his more than he should, but luckily you’re not in this relationship to take advantage of his immaturity and inexperience. You give back as much as you can.
Billy is clingy. Needed to type it out despite it being loud as hell in this list.
Billy cant cook. Not like he needs to anyways, but he wants to learn for you! So when you’re cooking, he watches close behind you and asks you every question he can think of.
Billy likes to ask why… a lot. It gets frustrating sometimes, but he genuinely wants to learn.
—X—
A/N: thx for reading! idk might make a part 2 i’m gonna go fall asleep now :3
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bobzora · 2 years
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its past my bedtime and im having tatsuya feelings.....................uwagh
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emphistic · 5 months
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Interlude
A/N: did i write this in half an hour? yes. am i crazy? of course.
"Ah ah ah. I never said you could leave yet."
You immediately stopped in your tracks upon hearing a familiar deep, raspy voice at your back, coming from the confines of your shared bed.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
You whipped your head around, and were met with a set of half-lidded eyes in a shade of deep red. Their owner was propped up on one elbow atop the messy sheets, yawning loudly before running his long fingers through his unruly locks.
Sukuna was never a morning person, and his shifts always started later in the afternoon, so he always used it to his advantage.
Blinking once, twice, thrice, as you nervously averted your gaze away from your very enticing boyfriend, who only continued to stare at you sleepily.
The thought of going back to lay in your comfortable, warm bed was already something you wanted to do terribly, but adding Sukuna into the mix, too? This was like trying to drain the sea.
Merely one look at the pink-haired man, who was only covered waist-down by the blankets on his legs, was enough to pull you back beneath the covers and curl into his side.
However, you had already called sick two times in only a fortnight, and those bills were not going to pay themselves.
Unfortunately for you, or not unfortunately, you and Sukuna had been over this many times. Sukuna always told you, "I don't understand why you keep going back to that shitty job anyway. Just let me take care of you back in my place, I provide substantially for the both of us, anyway."
And besides, there really wasn't a way out for you no matter what.
Sukuna had had so many clients back-to-back lately, that he was forced to stay at the tattoo shop for nights on end. On top of that, Choso was unavailable for God knows why, so Sukuna had to fill in for him as well. And if that wasn't enough, sessions would take longer than expected because clients just wouldn't stop flirting with him, moving or twitching, accidentally messing up his work, talking so obnoxiously to the point Sukuna couldn't even pay attention, etc.
Only recently — just the night before, he was finally granted the chance to come home to you.
And you best believe he was going to spend every hour, minute, and second reminding you that you were his, and his only.
Not even your job's employee, apparently. Sorry not sorry.
But, it's not like you wanted to leave him anyway. You had missed Sukuna as much as he had missed you, if not more.
Phone calls while he was on break, sending memes through your text messages, playing together on Game Pigeon, FaceTimes while eating lunch together, were your only escapes from the sad, miserable Adult Life, into just Sukuna and You World.
"Baby, you know I have to. But I'll be back before you know it, okay? And besides, you need the free time. They've been working you nonstop—"
"I'm fine, not even tired. Don't you dare worry your pretty little head about me. As for free time . . ," Sukuna's held a mischievous glint to them, "how about you spend my free time with me?"
You bit your lip, in contemplation. Although you knew, clear as day, what would happen in the end despite everything.
Deciding to make a run for it, you swung your legs over the bed and planted your bare feet on the freezing-cold floor of your apartment. But before you could even stand up, a thick arm swiftly made its way around your waist and pulled you back to meet a hard, bare chest.
Sukuna was now sitting up.
You lightly gasped, as he brought his lips to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin.
"Don't think you can run away from me just yet, doll. I haven't seen you in days, and I'm not going to be apart from you for another second."
You squirmed in his grasp, but when you realized his strong hold around your middle wasn't going to let up any time soon, you sighed, and, left with no choice, only slumped back against his chest.
Sukuna grinned, victorious, once again.
The rays of the early sun filtered through the cheap window blinds, and you fluttered your eyelashes, squinting to hide away from the inevitable.
"Yeahh," Sukuna laughed, "that's right, princess. Just listen to me from now on."
You frowned, turning your head around to narrow your eyes at Sukuna.
"Now, what can we do with all this free time? I'm thinking we should try something new." Sukuna raised a brow teasingly, twisting your body around and settling you onto his lap with your thighs on either side of his.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister. I'm only staying for five more minutes," you crossed your arms.
Sukuna placed both of his large hands on your hips; it seemed like that was their default resting spot. Every chance he got, they would always end up there. No matter the setting or occasion.
Sukuna let out a deep laugh, "We'll see about that."
-
"Five minutes? You said? Either way, I don't think you're even able to move your legs at this point and walk out of this room."
"S'kuna, you're—ngh—not funny!" Your nipples hardened, and rubbed raw against the material of your shirt.
You braced yourself by placing both hands on the headboard, but it didn't look like anything could help stable you now.
Sukuna licked a stripe up your dampening clit.
Your situation wasn't looking too good. It didn't help that your asshole of a boss just had to call you right then and there.
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me-loving-woso · 4 months
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Today. Tomorrow.
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Author's note: Hi everyone! So I know I've been MIA for several months. But I'm back! This fic will be divided into 3 parts cause I've realized that I can't write a short one-shot. In no way am I an expert in medicine. The information is from Greys Anatomy and the internet. I apologise in advance if I offend anyone Summary: You never thought you'd find love under these circumstances, but sometimes, love works in mysterious ways. For you, it came in the form of Aitana Bonmatí.
TW: Illness, Cancer, Surgery, Happy Ending
You've just returned to Barcelona after being away due to your job. You were an art restorer and had established a small company with some friends from university. While you specialized in medieval and Renaissance art, your three partners specialized in Japanese art, antique jewelry, and ancient Egyptian art. Your company's diverse expertise made you wanted all around the world. 
Although managing such a company and traveling extensively at 26 was demanding, you wouldn't trade it for anything. You loved your job and your colleagues, who were also your best friends. Supporting each other through thick and thin made this life worthwhile for you.
That morning, you were driving to your next job. FC Barcelona, yes, the football club wanted you to restore and polish their trophies. They were meticulous about their trophies, and despite the unnecessary level of care, they requested your services every year to maintain them. It was lucrative work with minimal effort. Even though you weren't specialized in that type of restoration, you were willing to assist your colleague and friend with the task since you had little else to do.
As you parked near the Barcelona training grounds, about to pull up the parking brake, you heard an unpleasant sound, like glass breaking, from the back of your car. You hoped it wasn't what you feared. Taking a deep breath, you checked the other side of your car, hoping it was just your imagination. But as soon as you saw the damage and a small woman approaching you with a mortified expression, you knew the worst had happened. She had hit your car. This couldn't have happened at a worse time.
Walking up to the culprit, you were angry. She was about to speak, but you cut her off. "Sorry, miss. How many fingers am I holding up?" You politely showed her two fingers.
Looking baffled, she replied, "Two?"
"Oh, so you have eyes!" you retorted sarcastically. "I guess an SUV right in front of you was too small for you to see." Your anger was palpable.
"I'm so sorry. I-I was overthinking and didn't turn the handlebar all the way to the right," she stammered apologetically. You could see she was genuinely sorry, but in that moment, you didn't care.
"They should revoke your driver's license. You're a menace," you said, crossing your arms and returning to your car. Taking out the accident report, you said, "Let's fill out the accident report so I can be done with you." She nodded sadly and helped you complete the report.
You knew you were being unfair to her. Stuff happens, but this one was the final straw for you.
As you started filling out the report, you noticed her coming back towards you. Despite her being attractive and all, you were too mad to give a damn. Once you wrapped up your part, you handed her the report to fill out while you rang up your insurance company.
After a couple of minutes of you dialing your mechanic and finishing off the paperwork, you said goodbye to the lady and headed to the Barcelona training grounds.
While you were hanging around, you checked out all the team photos with the trophy. The left side had all the guys' photos, with Messi and the 2009 team, while the right side was all about Barcelona Femeni. Your father was a die-hard Barcelona fan; back in the day, you'd go to some games with him. But when you hit high school, you kinda lost interest in football.
As you spotted last year's Ballon d'Or picture, you suddenly recognized her, which made you laugh out loud. You had just had a small car accident with none other than the Ballon d'Or winner, Aitana Bonmatì.
You thought she looked familiar, but it didn’t really click at the time. Well, at least she's better with her feet than with a steering wheel.
When Eva finally showed up at the training grounds, you rushed over to her.
"Hey Y/n, how's it going?" she greeted.
"I'm good. Some car bumped into me about ten minutes ago, but I'm all right."
"Wait what?!" Eva exclaimed, shocked. Since she found out about your condition and all, she's been super protective. "Are you sure you're okay? Do I need to go all out on someone?"
"The damage ain't that bad. And you'll never guess who I had the run-in with."
You pointed at Aitana's photo on the wall. "Aitana Bonmatì?" Eva asked, puzzled.
"Yep."
"Well, at least she's better at kicking a ball than driving a car."
"That's what I was thinking!" you said, pumped. "Now let's get down to business."
A couple of guys from the club gave you the grand tour and hooked you up with a whole room to work in. You offered to take the trophies back to your lab, but they were set on leaving them there.
As you got everything set up, just as you were about to dive in, the bearded dude was heading out. "Just a heads up, the squad might swing by to check out your work. You know, for Instagram and stuff. Don't sweat it; it won't take too long." You gave a hesitant nod, gearing up for your first trophy. 
"Imagine if Aitana walks in here with all her teammates!" Eva quips jokingly as the two guys leave you alone. "I'd pay to see her face when she realizes it's you," she chuckles.
"I think it's the men's team. Otherwise, they would've said it," you comment, preparing your materials.
"How was meeting her?" Eva asks eagerly. She's a big fan of the women's side.
"I didn't even recognize her. I was kinda harsh, actually," you chuckle.
"Luck hasn't been on your side lately, with the car and all," she replies sadly.
"Yeah," you say, feeling a wave of emotions you'd rather not deal with. You shake it off and force a smile. "Let's focus on making some good money. I'd love to have jobs like this every day!"
You start working on Champions League and La Liga trophies. There's a lot, and as the hours pass, you feel even more exhausted.
After a couple of hours, the guy from earlier shows up. "So, the team's about to arrive. Is it okay if we film you?"
Eva looks at you, waiting for your response. "Only if I get some free advertising out of it."
He thumbs up. "I'll tag you in the story."
"You better!" you playfully retort, returning to polishing the 2005 men's Champions League trophy. You fake a smile and wait for the team to arrive.
As soon as you hear female voices, you glance at Eva and chuckle. She whispers a "I told you so" and gets back to work.
When they come in, you make eye contact with Aitana. Her smile turns to shock, then mortification. It takes all your willpower not to laugh. Out of all the people in Barcelona, she had to be the one to hit your car?
You quickly present your work, using fancy words you rarely use and explaining all the procedures. Aitana never comes near you, which makes you feel a bit sorry for her.
Once the cameras stop rolling, some of the players ask you both questions. As they're about to leave, Aitana walks up to you, apologizing awkwardly.
"I'm sorry again."
"Don't worry about it. Let's start fresh, okay?" You offer your hand, and she shakes it, smiling.
"I didn't know you worked with trophies," she adds quickly, not wanting the conversation to end.
Now that the anger has passed, you actually look at her. She's one of the most beautiful girls you've ever seen, and you're a sucker for nose rings.
"I'm actually an art restorer for Renaissance art. I'm here to help my friend with this job."
"That's so cool!" She beams at you. "So, are you going to work on my Ballon d'Or trophy too?"
You glance at Eva, who nods slightly. "Yeah, but probably not until next week."
She looks at you hesitantly. "Can I be there? I mean, it's not that I don't trust you, but I'm just curious, that's all."
"Are you done rambling?" You chuckle lightly at her nervousness. She's probably still embarrassed about the accident.
"Yes, I am," she replies shyly, making you chuckle. There's something about her that draws you in, as if you were meant to be near each other.
"Of course, you can join us. It might be a bit dull for you though, since you're all about adrenaline during your football games."
"I'm just really curious, that's all. I won't bother you, I promise," she reassures you, still smiling.
"I don't think you could ever be a bother," you say before you can stop yourself, turning your head away.
"Well then, as a proper apology, can I bring you coffee tomorrow?" she offers.
"You don't have to, Aitana."
"I insist. How do you take your coffee?"
The next morning, you waited for Eva to pick you up for Barcelona's facilities. Since your car was at the mechanic's, she'd be giving you rides for at least a week. 
As soon as you arrived at the trophies, you got to work promptly.
"So, you think Aitana's actually gonna bring you coffee?" Eva smirks suggestively.
"I doubt it. She'll probably forget. And maybe she was just being polite," you reply, focusing on your task.
"Well, she was all smiles with you yesterday," Eva starts tentatively.
You turn to her, pausing your work. "What? What are you getting at?" you ask, eyebrows raised in exasperation.
"Maybe she wanted something more than your forgiveness. Like your attention, or an excuse to see you again," she smirks.
"You, Eva, have been reading too many romance novels lately," you chuckle, feeling defeated.
"Two is not too many!"
"We've only talked for fifteen minutes."
"Yet it was the first time I saw you smile in a month," she says, making you roll your eyes once again. You're certain Aitana was just being nice. But you can't deny she's cute. And kind. And nice.
"Eva, you know I can't," you say sadly.
"You deserve a shot at happiness too, you know."
"Yes, but I don't think a super hot football player is the answer."
"Well, maybe a super hot footballer isn't the solution, but I know one who promised you coffee," you turn your head towards the door. There she is, with three coffees on a tray, wearing a shy smile. You blush profusely, hoping she didn't overhear your conversation with Eva, but she seems unfazed, waiting for your acknowledgment.
You take a moment to compose yourself before removing your work gloves and standing up to greet her.
"Hi Aitana. Did you manage to park your car properly?" you tease.
"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" She hands you your coffee and then turns to Eva. "Well, I didn't know what kind of coffee you preferred, so I just brought you the most basic and likable."
Eva looks at her baffled; neither of you expected her to bring Eva coffee or to see her again. "Oh, thank you!" Eva responds before turning back to you, the absurdity of the situation evident in your wide eyes.
She takes a sip of her own coffee, then looks at the trophy you were just working on. "Have you already worked on ours?"
"We wanted to finish the men's trophies first, then do yours next week," you explain. Eva's phone rings, and she excuses herself to take the call, as it was a work call, leaving you and Aitana alone.
“It’s El Prado, I’ll be right back.” 
You sit back down to work, and she curiously comes around the table to your side to see what you're doing. "Don't you have practice today?" you ask.
"We have a rest day," she replies. "Your colleague said El Prado called her, like the museum?"
"Yeah, I have to go touch up some paintings, maybe next month? My schedule's really busy right now."
"You do paintings too?" she asks, surprised.
"I usually only do that. I'm just helping Eva with this job. These trophies are already well taken care of; they don't really need this much attention. But I have to say, LaPorta pays really well," you joke, trying to ease the tension. She chuckles lightly. She has a cute laugh, you think.
"Well, now I'll definitely tell LaPorta!" she jokes back.
"Don't you dare!"
You joke and chat for at least another fifteen minutes. There's something about her that makes your stomach flip in ways you definitely don't want it to. She's attentive, curious, and sweet. She's confident but never boastful, which you find refreshing. 
As the minutes pass, she gradually moves closer to you, coaxing you into letting her help with your work. You gently push her away, chuckling, telling her they don't pay her to restore trophies. But she doesn't budge. She grabs a pair of gloves, picks up her chair, and places it next to yours. She sits down, and you turn to her, wide-eyed at the proximity, but soon focus back on the trophy.
She tucks a loose hair lock behind your ear, asking for your attention. You turn to her, cheeks slightly flushed. "You're distracting me, Aitana."
"Maybe that is my intention," she smirks teasingly.
"Do you want me to lose my job?"
"It's not my fault you're easily distracted. I haven't done anything. I just sat next to you and put on some gloves," she raises an eyebrow.
"And that's more than enough," you utter to yourself.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing!" You reply hastily, but she smiles knowingly, as if she caught you saying something you shouldn't have.
You two stare at each other, like strangers trying to solve a puzzle on each other's faces. You can't quite figure her out. She's the best footballer in the world, yet she's so much more. Still, you feel drawn to her, as if you're meant to be there with her, and she with you. 
You're probably imagining things and being delusional. You blame it on your period. The silence fills the room, becoming suffocating. It's too intense, too much.
Thankfully, Eva enters the room, and you jump back into action, focusing on the trophy again, while Aitana stares at the floor.
You look at Eva, who's already sending you a big smirk, making you roll your eyes.
Aitana stands up and walks to the door. "I really have to go now. How about tomorrow?"
"What-" 
"Okay. Bye!" And she was already out.
You turn to Eva. “Did I miss something?” She asks.
“I don’t know. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
"So, the blood work came back," your doctor says, settling into his chair and opening your file. "You have anemia. Until your hemoglobin levels increase, we can't proceed with the therapy. I advise you to adjust your diet to include more iron and vitamin B12-rich foods. Also, consider taking some vitamin supplements."
You nod lightly, already mentally noting a trip to the drugstore. After a final visit from the doctor, you head home.
This week has been relatively relaxed compared to your previous ones in Italy. You've been working on an undemanding job with your best friend, which couldn't have gone better. Well, maybe it did. Every day this week, she brought you coffee and lingered for at least 15 minutes to chat with you. Even with her busy training schedule, she always made time to talk. You wouldn't discuss deep topics or your condition, but you appreciated how she listened and remained interested in your life.
Occasionally, she'd flash you that beautiful smile, tempting you to throw caution to the wind and kiss away all her smirks and grins.
That same morning, Eva was alone at the Barcelona training grounds because you were at the doctor's office. Around 9 AM, Aitana arrived, searching for you.
"Hi, Eva. Is Y/n here?" she asks.
"Y/n isn't here today. She had a doctor's appointment. Did she forget to tell you?" Eva replies.
Aitana's face falls into a kicked puppy expression. "She did. Anyway, I wanted to give her this." She hands Eva a bag. "It's game tickets. She mentioned she's never been to a Barcelona Femení game, and I wanted to change that. Can you please give them to her?"
Eva studies her, trying to gauge her intentions. "You like her, don't you?"
"What?" Aitana's taken aback, clearly not expecting those words.
"I get it. She's a wonderful person. And stubborn. Just don't hurt her; she's already going through enough," Eva warns.
Aitana nods lightly. "I hope to see you at the stadium this weekend. Bye!" With that, she leaves.
Two hours later, you return to work. 
"Hey!" you greet Eva.
"Hey! How was the appointment?"
"I have anemia, among other things, so I have to wait for it to get better before starting treatment."
"That sucks. But on the bright side, your footballer came by."
Damn. You were so wrapped up in conversation with her, and also distracted by her presence the day before, that you forgot to tell her you wouldn't be at work the next day.
"I forgot to let her know I wouldn't be here today," you admit.
"I figured. I saw the disappointment on her face when she didn't see you," Eva says, overly dramatic.
"You're being dramatic," you lightly blush.
"Maybe, but she cares about you."
"She's a good friend. It's no wonder everyone likes her."
"She could be more than a friend. I think she's—"
"Again, Eva. You know I can't! Besides, do you really think a girl like her would go for a girl like me?" With every interaction, your feelings for Aitana have grown. You're ignoring them, but you know they're there. Acting on them wouldn't be fair to her. But there's an inexplicable pull that you can't control.
"Y/n, you have qualities not everyone has. If it's a worthiness issue, it's all in your head." Eva hands you the bag Aitana left.
"You know I can't be in a relationship right now."
"Why?"
"You know why. It wouldn't be fair to her."
"Then stop giving her heart eyes. It's annoying, especially when I'm trying to work," Eva chuckles.
"It's not you she's trying to distract," you admit, blushing lightly. "And I don't give her heart eyes." You pout.
"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt," she comments ironically. "But I get it. You've never dealt well with hot women anyway. You're just playing it cool because you're still denying your feelings."
"Stop getting inside my head! Let's get back to work."
That night, you finally open the bag. Inside is an envelope with two tickets to Saturday's game against Atletico Madrid, along with a note.
"I hope you enjoy the game! Since I know you don’t have a jersey, I thought I’d give you one of my old ones."
You pull out the jersey, from last year with the Liga F patch. You subtly smell it, convincing yourself it's not weird. Her perfume lingers, but there's also a scent that inexplicably feels like hers.
The next morning, you wake up an hour early for work. You want to finish an be earlier to surprise Aitana and apologize. Knowing she has a physio appointment ending at 10 AM, you plan to surprise her with a macha latte, just as she did for you all week.
Waiting outside the physio building feels like a terrible idea, making you regret everything. As time passes and she doesn't emerge from the building, you were about to give up. But then, after what feels like centuries, she appears. The look on her face makes it all worth it. She walks quickly to you, still wearing a cute smile.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" she asks.
"I wanted to apologize. I forgot to tell you about yesterday." You hand her the macha. "Plus, this week, it's my turn." You both sit on a bench.
"Is everything okay? Eva mentioned you had a doctor's appointment," she inquired, causing your brain to pause for a moment.
"Uhm, yeah! Just some anemia, but otherwise, I'm good," you fib.
"That must be tough. My mom also has anemia, but fortunately, it's not that serious," she says, switching to a more excited tone. "So, are you coming to the game on Saturday?"
"Of course," you reply, grinning at her excitement.
"You know, since I gave you the tickets, you have to wear my jersey, or they won't let you in," she teases.
"Too bad, I was planning to wear my Putellas jersey. She's the best player on the team. Plus, I love the number 11," you try to rile her up. Her smile fades, and she's about to stand up when you put down your coffee and wrap your arms around her waist to keep her on the bench. "I'm kidding!"
She sits back down, crossing her arms childishly. "I want my jersey back."
You scoot closer to her, attempting to uncross her arms, but she's surprisingly strong. "Oh no. It was a gift. Besides, I think I can get used to the number 14." Finally, you manage to uncross her arms, and she takes your hand, intertwining it with hers. Your heart begins to race as you stare at your hands together. Her voice brings you back to reality.
"I'll show you who's the best."
"I have no doubt." With your free hand, you tuck one of her locks of hair behind her ear. "And you, woman, are one of the most competitive people I know. It's concerning."
"If we win, we'll probably go out to celebrate. Do you want to come?" she asks shyly.
"I'm already going out. One of my friends wants to celebrate his birthday at a bar. Maybe next time?" you suggest.
"Definitely."
You check your watch. "I really have to go now; I need to get back to work. Same time tomorrow?"
"Bringing you coffee is my thing. Are you stealing my ideas, Y/Ln?" she hints.
"Well then, I won't have a reason to see you," you imply, stepping into unknown territory, but it feels right.
"Well, that's just your loss. Coffee's my thing. You'll just have to find another way to see me then."
"Is that a challenge? Because I can find some other excuses to see you before the match," you grin confidently.
"Like?" she asks, smiling back.
"Well, I was thinking of working on your Ballon d'Or tomorrow evening. You've been bugging me for a week, asking for my help. I'll let you work on your Ballon d'Or, if you still want to, of course."
"Oh, so you want to invite me over to do your job?" she smirks.
"Definitely. This was all planned. You didn't see that coming, did you?"
"You just broke my heart. And for a moment I thought what we had was genuine," she says dramatically, making you poke her side.
"I really have to go now. So, I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Definitely."
You walk to your car with a smile plastered on your face, feeling a tingling sensation in your hand from when she held it. You feel and sound like a horny teenager. Never in your life has a person made you feel this way, and that scares you.
The next morning, you arrived at work with a newfound excitement, which didn't escape Eva's notice.
"Why are you so happy?" she asked.
"Just the usual," you shrugged.
"Does it have something to do with your footballer?"
"She does have a name, you know."
"Yeah, I know. I've seen her more than my parents this past week. It's concerning. By the way, where is she?"
"She'll be here in the evening when we work on the Ballon d'Ors."
"Then I'll be out of your way."
"You don't have to. Nothing will happen between us, don't worry."
"Yeah, no. I've suffered enough this week. All the giggles, all the weird flirting. I'm done. Plus, you're making me feel extremely lonely."
Fast forward to the afternoon, you were waiting for Aitana while finishing touching up all the material. Even though the supplement for anemia gave you more energy, you had been working for six hours straight and couldn't wait to finish.
What was left was Aitana's Ballon d'Or. You hated working with gold, so you were glad this was the last thing for Barcelona. You would probably miss being here, but most importantly, you'd miss a person more.
As soon as she came in, you noticed she was still dressed in Barcelona sweats.
"Hey! Did you just finish training?" you asked.
"Yeah."
"How was it?"
"Tiring. I didn't know you wore glasses." She put your glasses on herself.
"You are definitely blind. I remember you asking me if I was blind when we first met. I guess coming from you, it's even funnier," she teased, earning a poke to the side.
You rolled your eyes. "I had contacts on. What's your excuse?"
She showed you her tongue. "Do I look like an art restorer now?" she fake bragged.
"You are way too fit for anything to do with art," you chuckled, gently removing your glasses from her face.
"Hey! I do, in fact, love everything to do with art. I'm here; that should mean something."
"Being friends with an art restorer doesn't change the fact that you're for sports, while I'm for the visual arts."
"Maybe that's why we get along."
"Maybe." You handed her a pair of gloves, which she excitedly put on. "You're getting very excited for this. Working with gold is very boring."
She shrugged. "I'm working with Spain's best art restorer; it's a privilege," she teased.
"I'm far from being the best," you denied shyly.
"I looked you up, you know. Youngest woman to own an art restoring company, you travel the world because everyone wants you. What more can you do?" she insisted confidently.
"You're the best player in the world. Last year, you won everything. What more can you do?" you flipped the conversation.
"I'm far from being the best. I still have to improve," she repeated your words.
"To me, you are the best, if that means something," you admitted, making her turn to you with a big smile on her face.
"Well, I thought Alexia was your favorite player; you claimed that you love the number 11," she raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Well, I told you that I could get used to a 14 on my back. Plus, she didn't bring me coffee for an entire week just to see me. Lame, I might add," you teased her, making her blush.
"Shut up! You loved it," she said shyly, hiding her face away from you.
"Yeah, I really did... Now let's get started."
For the next half-hour, you taught Aitana a part of your work, filling your heart with joy at her curiosity. Whenever you guided her hands, Aitana would send you a look that you couldn't quite explain. It was intense and riveting, making you internally combust.
She was sitting so close to you; you could smell her perfume and shampoo. Your eyes focused on her, and she lightly stuck out her tongue, which you found extremely cute and distracting. As you gently took her hands, you could feel her calluses even with gloves on, you showed her a movement she had to do.
"Thank you for letting me help you," she said shyly, and you gently squeezed her hands.
"No problem. Plus, it's your Ballon d'Or," you shared a quick, soft look. "Actually, you're doing me a favor. Working with gold is my least favorite thing to do. You made it a little more tolerable."
"I'm glad to hear that," she chuckled. "I hope I didn't distract you too much from your work this week," she confessed insecurely. Insecurity didn't suit her well.
"Did you distract me? Yes," her face fell a little. “Do I care? No. We wouldn't be here now," you reassured her, and she lightly nodded in response. "So, on Saturday, I'll have to find ways to distract you from the game, so then we'll be even," you bumped her shoulder playfully.
"I never get distracted," she said confidently. You were glad to see her back to her confident self.
"Is that a challenge?" you raised your eyebrows.
"No challenge. It's a fact."
"Are we back to being all confident now?" you smirked playfully. "Well, now I'll definitely make it my main goal for Saturday to be able to distract you."
"And how do you plan to do that?" she turned to you defiantly.
"My master plan will be divided into plan A, which I still have to devise, and plan B."
"What's plan B?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"I kinda do?"
"Too bad," you chuckled playfully.
It was 6 PM when you decided to go home. You had stayed with Aitana for more than three hours, but strangely enough, it felt like thirty minutes. You had discovered a new side of her that you couldn't get enough of.
She was different in real life from when she was on the pitch—still driven and determined, but also funny, kind, and gentle. She cared about so many things and was so busy, yet she had time to be with you for more than three hours. 
She loved books and days spent at the beach. Her passion for football encompassed her whole life, and you admired how passionate she was about her work.
She reminded you of yourself and your love for art. When you asked her about her favorite books, you were surprised when she replied with nerdy titles. Looks could be deceiving; Aitana Bonmatí was a bit of a nerd, and you loved it.
She walked you back to your car with your bag on her shoulder, insisting that it was too heavy. As you reached your car door, you quickly turned to her. "So I'll see you on Saturday?"
"Definitely."
"Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?" you couldn't help but smile.
"Yes, boss," this time, you received a poke on the ribs. "Ow!"
"Thank you for today. I really had fun. I thought working with gold was going to be more boring."
"It wasn't, thanks to you," you wanted to hug her. No, you felt the necessity to do so. Unceremoniously, you brought her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her neck and drawing her closer. After the initial shock, she wrapped her arms around your waist and held you tighter. The hug lasted longer than necessary, but neither of you wanted to let go.
There was a pull that made you not want to leave her embrace. It was comforting, and even if you didn't realize it at the time, you really needed it. After some time, you broke off the hug, said your final goodbye, and left for home.
Upon arriving home, you noticed a light emanating from the living room. Initially startled, you thought it might be an intruder. However, upon entering, you found your annoying brother standing there with his arms crossed.
"Jesus Christ! I thought you were a burglar! Idiot!" you exclaimed, smacking his arms in frustration.
"Hi to you too, sis," he responded with a smirk.
"Why didn't you call me?" you asked, placing your bag on the floor before embracing him.
"I needed to talk to you, and I knew you'd find an excuse not to see me," he explained.
"You live in Manchester!"
"I'm back. Got transferred back to Barcelona."
"For good?" you inquired eagerly. Ciro, your brother, was one of the best sports physiotherapists globally, having worked with Man City for almost two years.
"Yeah, got a call from Barcelona. You know I can't say no to that. Plus, I really wanted to be home," he replied.
He towered over you, twenty centimeters taller, with medium-length wavy hair that made heads turn. You both represented the opposite ends of two worlds—you loved art, he loved sports.
"I'm glad you're back," you said warmly, stepping back from the hug.
"Now, why did I have to hear from Mom that you were sick?" he asked, concern etched on his face.
"Ciro, I wanted to tell you, but you were busy with work. I really didn't want to worry you."
"You should've told me," he said sadly. "I would've been there. Could've come sooner."
"And do what? I'll start my treatment next week. There's not much you can do."
"I can be there for you. We made a deal to always stick together. You're my older sister, you've always been there for me. The least I could do is to be there for you," he insisted. You sighed sadly, realizing he was right. You should've told him. Perhaps you wanted to protect him, or maybe you feared that acknowledging your illness would make it too real.
"Did you come home because of me?" you asked tentatively, hoping for a different answer.
"As much as Man City pays, Barcelona is my home. And I really missed my sister."
"You're such a suck-up! What do you need?" you teased.
"Well, now that you ask... I might need a place to stay."
Rolling your eyes, you replied, "You can take the guest room."
After settling his stuff in the guest room, you both decided on pizza for dinner. He insisted you make the call, but you refused, playfully tossing his phone back to him. As soon as he returned, you sat on the couch to catch up on each other's lives. It had been months since you'd seen each other, and despite your reluctance to admit it, you missed him.
"Are you also working with Barca Femeni, or only the men's side?" you asked.
"I still don't know. Definitely covering all the home games and the key players if they're injured. Unsure about the away games."
"I have tickets to Saturday's game for the women's side if you want to come," you offered.
"I'll probably have to cover that game, being the first one," he replied with a suggestive smirk. "Why do you have tickets for a football match? Weren't you against 'the sports'?" he teased, using air quotes.
Blushing lightly, you retorted, "I never said I was 'against the sports.' I just prefer books to football games."
"Then why the sudden interest in watching a football match?" His face lit up. "Is it for a girl?" he asked excitedly.
"No girl!" you insisted, though thoughts of Aitana flickered in your mind. "Just felt like it."
"Then why are you smiling?" he persisted, tossing a pillow your way.
"No particular reason," you lied.
"Okay. You'll tell me when you're ready," he said with a knowing smile.
Fast forward to Saturday, and Ciro settled into his new job quickly. He primarily worked with the men’s side, working on Gavi and Balde, the most serious injuries at the moment.
On Saturday, he was to finally meet the women’s side in preparation for the game. Patri was the first to arrive, followed by Pina and Bruna. Aitana was the last, there for additional ankle support.
Upon seeing Ciro, Aitana gave him a strange look, as if he reminded her of someone.
"Hello?" Ciro greeted, puzzled by her expression.
Quickly snapping out of it, Aitana apologized, "Oh, hi, sorry! You kinda looked like someone familiar. I apologize if I gave you a weird look." Extending her hand, she introduced herself, "I’m Aitana."
"Hi. I’m Ciro. I’m the new physio. What can I do for you?" he responded.
During their time together, Ciro realized that Aitana was very chatty about nerdy things like books and coffee places—things that reminded him of you and how well you two would get along.
"You said you just came back from Man City, right?" Aitana asked.
"Yes, I did," Ciro replied.
"Did you know that the first atom was split there?" she commented, making Ciro chuckle. She would really get along with you.
"I think you’d be friends with my sister. She said the same thing when I left to go there," Ciro remarked.
"I guess it’s common knowledge," Aitana stated confidently.
"No, it’s not. But I’ll reply the same way I replied to my sister: who cares about atoms, when Manchester is home to the annual World Pie Eating Championship," Ciro chuckled.
"You got a girlfriend there?" Aitana asked unexpectedly.
Blinking at the question, Ciro replied with a crooked smirk, "Why, are you interested?" It was playful banter, no ulterior motives.
Raising her hands defensively, Aitana replied, "Nope, you’re not really my type."
"Then I should really introduce you to my sister," Ciro teased.
"Nah, I’m already interested in someone else. I’m sorry," Aitana smiled brightly.
"Too bad," Ciro finished up her ankle. "You’re all set. I’m sorry if this conversation was unprofessional. Please don’t report it to the club," he added with a tense smile.
"Don’t worry. We were just talking. But I do have to say, the more I see you, the more you look like a person I know," Aitana observed.
"Well, I hope they are great. I don’t want to leave a bad impression," Ciro replied.
"She’s wonderful," Aitana said before heading to the pitch.
Meanwhile, you were getting ready with Eva to go to the Estadi Johan Cruyff.
"So your brother’s back in town for good?" Eva asked.
"Yeah, he’s currently crashing at my apartment until he gets a flat of his own. Feels like we’re back to being teenagers living together for Uni," you replied, putting on Aitana’s shirt and giving it a subtle sniff.
"How’s that going?" Eva raised her eyebrows.
"So far, so good. She’s my friend," you reassured her.
"So, you told her about your condition, right?" Eva asked sternly.
You fell silent. "I’ve been meaning to! I just haven’t found the time yet."
"You need to tell her," Eva urged.
"I know. Let me just ignore it for a little longer," you replied hesitantly.
"She won’t go away, you know that?" Eva reassured you.
"I don’t care about that. We’ve only met three weeks ago. I don’t have some sick attachment issues, okay? I... I just really care about her," you admitted.
"I know you do. Or else we wouldn’t be going to a football game just to see her," Eva said with a smile.
At the Estadi Johan Cruyff, Aitana had secured great seating spots for you. As they warmed up, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. When she spotted you in the crowd, her face lit up with a huge smile, and she excitedly waved at you.
The game started quickly, with Aitana making a significant impact on the field. Her passing was precise, and she dribbled past opponents effortlessly. 
In the first 15 minutes, she had already made an assist and nearly scored a goal. At the thirtieth minute, she scored a remarkable goal from outside the box, prompting you to cheer loudly.
However, the next action worried you. A harsh tackle left Aitana clutching her ankle in pain. Thankfully, your brother quickly tended to her, and she was able to continue playing, albeit with some discomfort. At halftime, Ciro was still with Aitana, leaving you concerned. But what concerned you more was that she didn’t return for the second half, replaced by another player.You quickly sent a text to Ciro, hoping he’d see it.
**You:** Where are you?
**Ciro:** I’m at work, idiot. You saw me.
**You:** I know, but right now? Is everything okay with Aitana?
**Ciro:** Yes, why? Why are you so concerned?
**You:** She’s my friend. Can I come and see her?
Aitana was perched on the physio bed, visibly annoyed that they’d taken her off at half-time.
“Hey, Aitana,” Ciro turned to her, puzzled by her behavior, away from his phone. “How do you know my sister?”
She looked at him, puzzled. “Who’s your sister?”
“Y/n?” He stated, as if it were obvious.
“Like Y/n Y/ln? You’re his brother?”
“Yeah!”
“I didn’t know that! She never mentioned she had a brother. That’s why you looked like her!”
“She wants to come and see you. I can’t let her in, but you can if you want.”
Aitana blushed lightly, a fact Ciro noted but didn’t comment on. Internally, she thanked him for it.
“Yeah, of course she can come if she likes.”
He smirked knowingly, making her blush again. “I’ll go get her. Then we’ll have a small talk on how you have the hots for my sister,” he teased, leaving the room.
As soon as you saw Ciro in the hallway, you understood immediately that he had something in mind.
“Since when do you know Aitana Bonmatì?”
“Since I worked on her Ballon d’Or. We’ve become friends.”
“Only that?” he raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, Ciro. Only that.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. You are way too worried.”
“Shut up,” you smacked his stomach hard, making him whine. “And not a word about this around her, understood?”
“Can I say one thing?”
“Then you’ll shush?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“She’s really nice and chatty. I get why you like her. Plus, she’s really hot, not to mention your type?”
“You really want me to get violent on you?” You hit him again.
“Ow!”
“You deserved it.”
“You didn’t deny it though…” You hit him again, this time harder. “This one was my fault. I take it back.”
You both reached the door to the physio room. “Now get back to work, Ciro.”
“So bossy! I hope Aitana likes this side of you!” He teased, and you replied with a glare that clearly said, "I’m going to hit you." Your patience was really getting tested. “Bye!” He quickly left to get back on the pitch, while you opened the door.
She was sitting still on the physio bed, with some ice on her ankle, still dressed for the match, and lightly pouting.
“Hey,” as soon as she turned to you, she brightened up.
“Hey!” You approached her. “How’s your ankle?”
You took her in, noticing she looked exhausted even though she only played for 45 minutes. Even though you saw her play, you were glad they let her rest.
“It’s good. They took me off for ‘precautionary measures,’” she rolled her eyes.
“I’m glad you’re healthy,” you replied, turning around to show her you were wearing her jersey.
She grabbed both sides of the jersey and dragged you in between her legs. “You have it on!” she said excitedly.
“Of course! I only wear the best! Great game, by the way,” you lightly caressed her thigh, next to her knee, to give her some reassurance. “You scored a banger!”
“Thank you. I’d rather have played more, though,” she pouted, making you smile at her cuteness. “By the way, what was your secret plan to make me distracted?”
You chuckled lightly, completely forgetting. “Plan A was to distract you just by my presence,” you bragged jokingly, making her giggle and earning you a poke in the ribs.
“That’s not true. You just didn’t think of anything to distract me with,” she said confidently.
“Maybe.”
“What was plan B, then?”
“Becoming a pitch invader or just flashing you,” you said dramatically.
“I would’ve definitely loved to see that,” she gave you a playful smirk, lightly gripping your waist a little harder.
You chuckled, smacking the back of her head. Then, you looked at her properly, changing the mood of the conversation. Her eyes looked so tired. “You look exhausted. You still have the elastic band in your hair. Isn’t it uncomfortable?”
“I’m just too lazy to take it off,” she confessed bluntly.
You rolled your eyes and then gently took it off her. “There you go. Do you want me to take out your ponytail too?” You looked into her eyes once again.
“You don’t have to. I can do it on my own,” she said shyly.
“I know you can, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to be near you.”
Her face softened, making you melt like chocolate under the sun. She nodded slowly, and you sprang into action. Taking a step closer, you gently took off the elastic band and looped it around your wrist. You scratched her scalp a little, making her release a relaxed sigh. Chuckling lightly, you took a step back to give her some space. As you were about to take another step, she quickly grabbed you, bringing you even closer to her. Swallowing some of the tension, you realized she was in control now and wanted you closer. You quickly looked at her lips, then back to her powerful gaze.
“You don’t have to find an excuse to be closer to me. I always want you near me all the time,” you tucked your head down to hide your blush, not wanting to show her how much those words had affected you. She gently grabbed your chin and raised it to her level.
“Don’t hide from me. I love it when you blush,” she teased.
“Stop doing that,” your face flushed again.
“Doing what?”
“Being all confident and so close to me. It’s distracting.”
She smirked in response. “Maybe that’s the effect I want you to feel. I’ll let you go if you feel uncomfortable,” she reassured you.
You replied by simply placing your hands on the sides of her face, playing lightly with her baby hair.
“We’ve been skirting around it for two weeks now. Don’t you feel the same pull towards me that I have with you? It’s consuming, and it feels so good,” she admitted.
It was intense, obliterating in a sense, yet you couldn’t resist it. You hated not feeling in control. Acting upon these feelings wouldn’t be fair to her.
“I feel it too,” you removed your hands from her and took a step back, seeing her expression change. You could feel her disappointment. “So much. But I can’t,” you sighed defeatedly. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Why?” she asked vulnerably. “Do you have a secret boyfriend or something?”
You took a deep breath and decided to tell her. She deserved to know. You couldn’t continue like this.
“Aitana, I have ca—”
The door opened, and the entire team barged in. You subconsciously took another step back and let the team swarm Aitana. They were checking up on her, but her eyes never left yours.
“Hey, you’re the art restorer!” Patri pointed out.
You quickly changed your demeanor to something more cheerful. “Yes, I just came in to say hi to Aitana. I was just about to leave. I’ll see you.”
You quickly left to reunite with Eva and then headed home.
Later that night, you were going to a club to celebrate your colleague Pablo’s birthday, but for you, it was also the last party before you had to start your treatment.
The whole thing with Aitana earlier that day had left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like an asshole and couldn’t shake the feeling that things could have gone better between the two of you.
Realising that you never asked for her phone number and that you had finished your work for the club, you concluded that you probably wouldn’t see her again.
So when you left for the beach bar with your friends, you decided to indulge in some vodka. Eva didn’t question it. She knew that sometimes, when you were out with your friends, you stopped being the responsible one and drank more than usual to have some fun. Pablo and Eva always made fun of you because you never had filters and would always create chaos, but you never went overboard.
You were in the middle of the night, two drinks in, and you started telling your friends that you loved them. They only chuckled in response. You alternated between depressing states and euphoric ones, making Eva, who was also intoxicated, extremely confused.
The whole night shifted again when you saw a group of girls entering the bar, including the one girl you thought you’d never see again. As soon as she saw you, she tried to approach you. She wanted to talk about the conversation you had earlier that day, but you tried to drunkenly escape the conversation. It did not work.
A few moments later, you were met with her standing in front of you while you were sitting down at the bar stools. She saw that you were drunk, and her serious appearance faded for a moment. 
“Can we—Are you drunk?” she asked.
“Yep,” you confessed without even trying to hide it. “What are you doing here?”
“We are out celebrating the win. What are you doing here?”
“The birthday party,” you slurred. She had her nose ring on. You loved it when she wore it. “You have your nose ring on. I really like it,” you tried to raise your hand to touch it, but she quickly stopped you.
“How much did you drink?” she asked, concerned.
“Not that much. Why are you so serious? I don’t like it when your face scrunches up.”
She chuckled at your drunkenness. “You are so drunk. I’ll take you home.”
“Nooo. You just got here, plus my friends are about to leave,” you protested.
“It’s no biggie. You need to get home to sleep it off.”
“I think I should. On Monday, I have my first treatment. I shouldn’t feel hungover,” you blurted out.
“You have your first what?”
“Can I have a kiss?”
“What?”
“A kiss. You know, the ones you give to a person with the lips,” you explained, while she slowly took your hand and led you out of the bar.
“I know what a kiss is. I don’t think I should give you a kiss, given your current state. And the fact that a few hours ago you rejected me.” You were out now.
“Wait. Why are we outside?”
“I’m taking you home.” She states.
“You tricked me. You are one little sneaky son of a bitch.” You pout, making her laugh.
“You drunk, is the highlight of my day.”
“That’s so sad.” You cover your mouth with your hand childishly. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She giggles in response. “I still want a kiss from you. And I want to you to know that I didn’t in fact reject you. I just told you that I can’t.” You specify.
She leads you to her car without you realizing it. “I hope you are not one of those people who takes me to their car and then try to kill me.” She opens the car door and helps you inside.
She buckles your seatbelt, and due to the closeness, you blurt out. “You are very beautiful. The most perfect face.”
She chuckles, lightly shaking her head. “You are very beautiful too.” She gives you a quick kiss on the temple and round the car to get to the driving seat.
“Was it that difficult to give me a kiss?” You ask her rhetorically, making her roll her eyes at you.
“Can you tell me your address?” She sat down on the driver’s seat and gently turned your head towards her to get some attention.
“I don’t wanna go home. My brother is there.” You whine. “Let’s go to the beach.” You say excitedly. 
“Y/n you are drunk. If you don’t tell me your address I’ll bring you to my home.” Aitana tells you seriously. 
“Is that an invite?” You smirk suggestively.
“Get your head out of the gutter, Y/n.” 
“Calm down. I was just joking!” You grinned.
“I should probably text Eva.” You sober up and sent her, very slowly, a text.
**You** I’m going hmoe with hot footballer. See you on mnoday. I’m drukn but I love you.
The drive pretty much sobered you up. You were still blabbering nonsense to Aitana, talking to her about the most random things. When you arrived, you quickly noticed that you weren’t in your apartment complex.
“I knew it. You brought me here to kill me,” you said, fed up.
“We are at my home.”
You opened the car door and got out before she could help you. “This whole building is your house?!” you said, shocked, while she quickly walked up to you.
“No, you idiot. I have an apartment,” she giggled lightly.
“You are enjoying this, aren’t you? Getting to see me like this.”
“I am definitely enjoying this. Too bad I can’t make any videos of you like this,” she said, placing a hand behind your back to stabilize you until you got to her apartment.
You curiously wandered around her living room, taking in her home. It was just like her. Every decoration, every piece of furniture reflected her in some way, only something was missing.
“You should get some artwork to fill up the walls. Your house is beautiful, Aitana.”
“Thank you. I guess you can definitely help with that, don’t you think?”
“Not in this condition.” You sat on the couch, while you waited for her to join you.
“You wanted to talk?”
“Not with you like this, tomorrow morning?” she offered, but you weren’t on board with that.
So, with a swift movement, you sat on her lap, taking Aitana by surprise. You placed her hands on your waist and blurted out. “I’ll talk then. I really like you, but I can’t be with you right now. The connection you feel between us is so real and intense that it scares me. You have been one of my biggest blessings in disguise since you came into my life.”
“I’d rather talk about this when you’ll remember it, but I really like you, and I would like to know why we can’t be together.”
You were sober enough to stop yourself from telling her the truth. “I’ll tell you tomorrow morning, I promise.”
You gently rubbed her shoulders, feeling all her muscles, making you giggle.
“What?” she asked, tickling you for a second or two. She was back to being her unserious self, and her crinkle disappeared. Probably it was because she knew that you were safe now.
“You are so muscular.” You squeezed her biceps. “If we were in a zombie apocalypse, would you protect me from all the zombies? You go fend off our enemies while I do the housewife and part-time art restorer. Maybe zombies make art, who knows?”
“Okay, I will,” she indulged you.
“You promise?” You asked her seriously.
“Yes.”
“Pinky promise?” You raised your pinky, and she laced it with hers. “Now it’s sealed.”
“Let’s go to bed,” she spurred you to stand up and walked you to her bedroom. She quickly gave you some spare clothes to change, leaving the room for you to have some privacy. She gave you some Barcelona shorts and one of her old t-shirts.
Somehow, every item had her typical perfume, and that special something that was characteristically hers. You were now a little more sobered up, which made you less chatty and with some inhibitions.
As you opened the door of her bedroom to see where she was, you saw that she was getting the couch ready to sleep.
“Aitana, come to bed. I can take the couch. You already did more than enough for me today.”
“It’s no biggie,” she shrugged.
“No, it’s a big biggie.” You walked up to her and literally dragged her into her own bedroom. “You take the bed.”
“Then we’ll both take it.”
“We can do that.” You waited for her to take her usual side, then you climbed on the other side. She turned off the light, and you moved to your side to face her. “Thank you for tonight. You didn’t have to, but you still took care of me. You are truly one of the most amazing people I know.”
She kissed your forehead. “Goodnight, Y/n.”
She laid on her back, making you subconsciously go near her as much as possible, until you looped your arm around her waist and cuddled into her. In response, she gave you another kiss on the temple and nuzzled into you.
The next morning, you woke up with a headache. An arm was keeping you down, and as you opened your eyes, confusion swept over you.
Aitana was still softly sleeping on your side. Memories of last night flooded back into your mind. You guessed that she felt you stir awake because not even a minute after you had woken up, she woke up too.
“Good morning,” she said gently, moving away from you and sitting up, quickly stretching herself. You basically mimicked her movements on the other side of the bed and followed her to the living room.
“Coffee?” she offered.
“Definitely,” you replied, sitting down at her kitchen table. “Can I have a glass of water? My head is killing me.” She quickly retrieved it for you and got back to preparing the coffee. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable last night.”
“You didn’t. I’ve thought about what you told me yesterday: that you can’t be with me because it wouldn’t be fair to me. I think… no, I’m certain, that we can work it out together,” she said hopefully. She was still standing when you chuckled sadly.
“Aitana, you don’t know how much I’d want that. But being with me right now isn’t worth it, and I won’t ask you to wait for me because that wouldn’t be fair to you,” you admitted sadly.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Whatever it is, we can—”
“Aitana, I have cancer.”
Now she sat down. “You told me you had anemia,” she said defensively, not really believing you.
“I do also have anemia. That’s why I’ll start chemo so late from the diagnosis,” you released a sigh.
“Is—is it curable?” she almost whispered, almost not knowing how to take the news.
“Thankfully, I found out early about the tumor. The doctors said a 70% success rate.”
“Where is it?”
“Thyroid cancer. It’s a little bump next to my vocal cords.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” she pleaded, almost offended.
“Because...I didn’t want you to see me in a different way,” you confessed as your voice cracked vulnerably.
“I could never see you in a bad light. You are a fighter, Y/n, remember it.”
“Do you understand why I can’t be with you?”
“Yes, and I call it bullshit,” she remarked determinedly.
“What—”
“You know, statistics say that only 30% of relationships last the first year. You literally have more hope to live than us being together.”
“And so?”
“And so, why are you denying us to yourself?”
“Maybe because in the next month, all my hair will fall off, I’ll be as weak as I’ll ever be, and I won’t be able to work anymore?” you said sarcastically. “Do you really want a girlfriend like that?”
“I want you, Y/n. We’ll just have to go through the bad times first before the good parts.”
“You know, Aitana Bonmatì, you are one stubborn woman. You never stop until you get what you want, huh?”
She nodded confidently.
“Can’t you see I’m trying to give you an out? For God’s sake, I have cancer! I might die, and I don’t want you to ruin your life to take care of me. I can’t be that selfish. I care about you way too much!” you replied exasperated, still with your head pounding.
She rounded the table and knelt down next to your legs, taking your hands. “It’s not a decision you can make for me. If you won’t let me be there for you as your girlfriend, then I’ll be there for you as a friend. For the record, I care about you too. And even if you already have Eva and Ciro, I won’t let you go through this alone.”
“We could never be friends, you know that?” you gently caressed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch.
“I know. But you are in control, okay? Let me just be there for you, please,” she practically begged you in the last part. You made her stand up while you thought for a moment.
“You won’t surrender, will you?” Your face adorned with a sad smile, while she shook her head. “I’m just a stranger, Aitana.”
“You are way more than that, and you know it,” she paused for a second. “You would do the same for me.” You nodded. You’d probably do worse if you found out that she had cancer.
"Let's take things slow, okay?" you concede, rising from your seat and placing your coffee cup on the table. "I should probably go home. Tomorrow I start chemotherapy, and I should probably rest," you say with a tinge of sadness. Making your way to Aitana's room, you change back into your clothes. After about five minutes, there's a knock on the door.
She slowly opens it. "Do you need me to drive you home? It's no biggie," she offers.
You nod slowly. "Can I come with you for your chemo?" she asks, her voice tentative, not wanting to overstep.
"I don't want you to see me like that," you explain, seeing her disappointment. "But maybe you could come and pick me up afterwards? We can go to lunch somewhere," you suggest.
"I'd love that," she replies with a small smile. "By the way! I think it's time for you to give me your phone number! I still can't believe we haven't exchanged numbers," she chuckles, and you hand her your phone.
She bursts into a giggle, sending you a knowing smirk. "I'm glad to hear that Eva is happy you went home with a hot ass footballer. The next part of the text, it's better that I don't say," she teases, causing you to blush profusely.
"I'm sorry," you mutter, covering your face with your hands.
"Oh no. I love it," she counters, smirking confidently as she tosses your phone back to you. As you unlock it to read Eva's texts, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.
**Eva** Fucking finally!
Now go and sex up that hot ass footballer!
"Damn it!" you exclaim, exasperated, prompting a chuckle from Aitana.
The drive back home is mostly silent. As she stops right next to your door, you're unsure how to bid her goodbye. It's been a heavy morning for both of you, and you need time to process everything. You had intended to push her away, give her an out. But she refused to give up, surprising you.
"I'll see you tomorrow, right? You'll text me?" she asks, her voice tinged with insecurity.
You reassure her with a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tani. Thank you for everything." With that, you exit the car and wave one last time before entering your home.
Sitting on the couch with a sad expression, you stare at the turned-off TV. You feel awful, like you've made Aitana feel awful. Groaning loudly, you bury your face in your pillow.
Ciro emerges from the guest room, eyeing you. "Rough night?" he asks.
"I told her," you confess.
He sits next to you and pulls you into a hug. "Did it go badly?"
"No, I guess. Is it bad if I wish she had just told me to get out of her life?"
"No," he replies, rubbing your back soothingly. "But I'm glad she'll stick around."
Meanwhile, Aitana returns home and collapses on the couch, her face turned toward the wall. She lets out a light but painful sob.
"Damn it."
In the afternoon of the same day she found out of your cancer, she had a recovery session at Barcelona. For the first time ever, she just wanted to stay home.
Despite being off during all her training, her teammates didn’t ask what was going on, as she's not one to let her emotions affect her play. But that day, she was anything but focused. Ciro noticed and approaches her during a water break.
"Hey," he says.
"Hi, Ciro," she greets him, trying to hide her emotions.
"You good?"
"I'm good. Just tired."
"You know you can talk to me, right?" Aitana nods and rejoins her teammates.
"When did you become friends with the physio? Are you over the Art Restorer?" Keira asks.
"Her name is Y/n, and that's her brother," Aitana replied emotionless.
"The hot gene really does run in their family," Patri remarks, earning a smack from Keira.
Your first chemo treatment isn't as bad as you feared. Your energy isn't drained at all; in fact, you're super alert, probably because of the steroids.
Aitana arrives half an hour early and joins you in the hospital treatment room.
You're nearly finished; you just have to complete the saline shot.
"Hey, how are you?" Aitana enters the room and gives you a quick hug before sitting beside you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't happy to see her. Her smile melts away your worries in an instant. She's here, and that's enough to lift your spirits.
"I'm nearly done. How's training?" you ask.
"It's good. We worked on free kicks and rondos, so some light stuff. I brought you some snacks," she says, handing you dried fruits and nuts. "I read that the first chemo might make you feel drowsy, and since you also have anemia, I brought you some food with iron."
You smile softly, thanking her with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Tani." Opening the bag, you search for some almonds. "I hate raisins," you remark.
"Just give them to me," she offers, and you quickly pass all the raisins to her as you eat the rest. "I don't know how you like raisins," you say, giving her a disgusted look.
"They're just fruit," she chuckles.
"How was the treatment? Do you feel sick?" she asks, worry evident in her voice.
"For now, no, probably because of the steroids. I should bring something to do next time," you say, your gaze softening. "About yesterday, we're good, right? I felt like we left each other on a bitter note.”
"It's okay. It was a pretty intense day. Let's just move forward, okay? So, I'm thinking... Let's go get some food, then we'll start our DreamWorks/Disney marathon. What do you say?"
For the past two weeks, the two of you had been discussing doing a movie marathon, and since you both liked kids' movies, you settled on that. However, there was one point of contention: she argued that Disney movies were better, while you favored DreamWorks. So the two of you had started arguing about which was best, and the winner was yet to be decided.
"I'm feeling great! We don't have to barricade ourselves in one of our homes. We can go to the beach and maybe take a walk," you offer, not wanting to confine her to spending the entire day indoors with you, knowing she's a very active person.
"Oh no! We have to finally settle this debate! It's been going on for too long now! Plus, you're going to need all the rest you can get, and I don't mind keeping you company," she insists.
"Are you sure?" You check once again.
"Yes, I'm sure," she reassures you.
Her idea proves to be right because as soon as you get home, you feel the steroids wearing off, with a sudden tiredness enveloping your body. As you drive to your home to start the movie marathon, Aitana notices almost immediately, quickly taking your hand and gently squeezing it, not letting go until you arrive.
"Your home is so full of books! I love it," she says excitedly as she steps inside your house.
"I love reading, and I have a college degree and currently doing my second specialization. I guess I have been the culprit of the death of some trees," you joke.
You fetch your grandma's blankets that she knitted for you, then return to the living room.
Aitana is already sitting on the couch with her arms open, waiting for you. Despite wanting to be held by her, you fear she might feel uncomfortable, so you sit on the opposite side.
She looks at you quizzically and then drags you to lay on top of her. You release a content sigh and proceed to hug her sides, fully taking in her body against yours. "Didn't you get the memo? From now on, I'll be your designated cuddle buddy," she giggles.
"Oh my god! How stupid! I completely forgot!" you joke.
She holds you tighter as you search for a movie to watch together, settling on "The Little Mermaid." You start to drift off, only remembering a faded kiss on the temple and a whispered, "You rest. I'll be here when you wake up, mi sirenita."
Approximately an hour later, Ciro returns home after spending the day with the men's team. He's really worried about you and how the treatment went, but he doesn't expect what he sees. You're lightly sleeping on top of Aitana, while she watches a movie on TV.
"Hey," he whispers.
Aitana's head shoots up to look at him. "Hey. She just fell asleep; the drugs wore off, and she got tired."
He smiles softly at the sight of his sister with someone who cares enough to be with her, even while she's sleeping. "How are you feeling?" he asks her.
"Oh, I'm good. She let me come inside while she finished up her treatment, and we had lunch at that place she always talks about."
"I'm glad she lets you be with her. She's stubborn, but don't give up. She'll come around," he reassures her.
She looks at you. "I really hope so," then turns back to Ciro. "Oh, you should text Eva! Y/n told me that she would text her, but I guess she forgot; she might be worried." Hearing all of this chatter, you stir awake, still drowsy.
"Tani, where is all this sound coming from?" you asked her groggily, still keeping your eyes closed.
"Ciro is here," she informed you.
"Hi Ciro," you lightly waved at him, then cuddled up against Aitana once again.
"Hey, how was chemo?"
"Tiring," you replied.
"I can see," he chuckled.
You raised your arm to show him the middle finger. "Okay! I'll wake you up later; you have to call mom."
You grunted at the thought. "Okay, okay. But now let me sleep."
"Do you want to go to bed?" Aitana asked you.
"You are too comfortable!" you replied.
"Why don't we go to bed? We'll be even more comfortable," she giggled.
"Okay," you slowly removed yourself from her and walked with her to your bedroom.
As soon as Aitana laid down on the bed, you resumed the same position as before. You indeed were more comfortable.
"You are the best cuddle buddy, Tani. Thank you." You gave her a kiss on the corner of her lips and fell back into a deep slumber.
Approximately an hour later, you woke up. You patted your bed to find Aitana, but she wasn't there. You quickly got out of bed, feeling a little better, and went to the living room to get a cup of water. In the kitchen, you found Ciro.
"Where's—"
"She left about five minutes ago; she had to do some media stuff with Barcelona, and she didn't want to wake you," he explained.
For the next two weeks, you had fallen into a routine. Whenever you had chemotherapy, Aitana would take you back for lunch away from the hospital, and sometimes you would take small walks together or watch movies if you were extra tired. In those two weeks, you had gotten a chance to know her better. The more you talked to her, the more you couldn't picture yourself without her. 
She was incredible. But most importantly, you loved how she made you feel. She was always so supportive, never failing to make you smile, but most importantly, she was ever-present.
Eva and Ciro would tease you so much because whenever she was around, you became a completely different person: nicer and more compliant. However, the mood from the first two weeks changed when you started losing hair.
You never really gave much thought to your hair; it was long and wavy, and honestly, you never thought about how being bald would actually make you feel. When single locks of hair started falling out, it was really a punch into reality. You had cancer, and your hair was falling out. Still, you didn't tell Ciro or Eva about it, and especially not to Aitana.
You were currently cuddling up next to her while she gently caressed your back. You had just finished your treatment for the week, and you were more exhausted than usual. Your throat was hurting, and your legs were aching as if you had just run a marathon. Aitana was rambling on about a book she started reading that you suggested.
"It's actually so good, no wonder you have great tastes in books," she lightly praised you, giving you a kiss on the scalp. She then tucked your hair behind your ear, but the lock remained in her hand.
"Since when have you been losing hair, Y/n?" she asked softly.
You moved away from her and sat on the couch, realizing that you had just lost another lock of hair. "It's been a week now," you uttered sadly. "Let's just not think about it, okay? I don't want to talk about it," you got defensive.
One thing that you didn't want was for Aitana to see you actually sick or suffering the consequences of cancer. One thing was tiredness, but another thing was losing hair.
"Do you maybe want to shave it all off?" she tried.
"Aitana, I don't want to talk about it, please."
"Okay, okay. I'll stop talking." You felt ashamed and embarrassed that she saw you like this, weak. So you completely closed off from her.
"It's getting late," you looked at your watch. "Tomorrow you have practice, and I have to study. I think that you should leave."
"Wha—"
"Aitana, please," you pleaded, with a vulnerability in your voice that you really didn't want to show.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped." With that, she left.
You took a loud sigh and went to the bathroom. Your brother's electric razor sat on the counter, and you just looked at it, unable to bring yourself to use it. You tried to convince yourself that you weren't actually losing her, but that didn't quite work.
Whenever you touched your hair, a lock would fall off. It was time to shave it off. Sitting down on the bathroom floor, you sighed deeply. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice when your brother came back home.
He appeared in the bathroom after a couple of minutes. "There you are! I thought you left. Where is Aitana?"
"I told her to leave," you said absently, still looking at the razor. He looked confused, both by your state and how you had kicked out Aitana. "My hair started to fall off. I've been trying to shave it off all afternoon, but I can't." You broke down crying at the last sentence.
"Gosh, I feel so stupid! I never bothered until now about my hair, and now all of a sudden, I can't get rid of it!" Frustrated, you punched your leg.
He sat down next to you and grabbed the razor from you. "But it's not just hair, isn't it?" he stated simply. "Losing hair is a physical reminder of what you are going through. It's scary, especially because you are someone who deals with problems by ignoring them."
You released a choked-out chuckle. "It's scary. You have cancer, you can die. Just like dad. And losing your hair may feel like you are out of control, like your body isn't responding to you anymore like before. But it's just hair." He turned on the razor. "Hair will grow again eventually." He moved the razor next to his scalp, making you react almost immediately.
"What are you doing?" You tried to move his hand away from his hair, but he wouldn't budge.
"I'm showing you that you are not alone, and for as long as you are in this fight, we are in this together." He quickly shaved a whole strip of his hair.
"Are you an idiot! Why did you do that?!" You said angrily, knowing that he would most probably pull off something like this, and even if you begged him not to do it on multiple occasions, he still did it. He didn't bother with your angry tone as he kept shaving off his hair until he was nearly all bald.
"See! It's just hair. Losing your hair is tough, but you know what? It's just another step until you get better. You are a fighter, and you are stronger than this." You were at a loss for words, so you just hugged him.
"Did you search on Google how to talk with your family member who has cancer?" You chuckled lightly, trying to break a little tension.
"I did," he said honestly, earning a small giggle.
You stayed a while inside his embrace, but then you soon remembered why you were in the bathroom. "I think I'm ready to shave it off.”-
After a very intense and emotionally charged afternoon, you found yourself sitting on the couch wearing one of your old Adidas beanies. You realized that one drawback of being bald was the constant feeling of coldness. Touching your head without any hair on it was something you had to get used to. It felt strange yet oddly cathartic, signaling your readiness to continue with the treatment.
"So, are you going to tell me why you kicked out that poor girl who's been following you like a lost puppy since you met her?" Ciro jumped on the couch to sit next to you.
"She's not a lost puppy."
"Well, she's been ever-present, bringing you food and always taking naps with you even when she could be doing other stuff."
"Don't make me feel guilty," you said defensively.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do. You haven't fully given her a chance, and I believe she wouldn't want anything more than for you to give her a chance. You are all she talks about." His confession made your cheeks redden, trying to hide away the stupid smile forming on your face.
"I don't want to hurt her," you uttered sadly.
"By pushing her away, you are doing just that."
"I know, but what if I give her a chance and it goes wrong? What if she decides it's too much, or I don't make it? I can't deal with that."
"What if it works? You're simply denying yourself some happiness, which I think you fully deserve."
"Why are you being so wise today?" You tried to change the subject.
"I'm just trying to help out my sister, plus I really hope that if the two of you get together, she'll stop talking about you during the physio sessions. That girl is chatty," he chuckled.
"I should probably go and talk to her," you said.
"She should be home; she told me she needed to rest for tomorrow's practice."
You put on your coat and left for Aitana's apartment with newfound determination. 
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ham-st4r · 1 year
Text
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐞 (𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎) 🔞 use headphones!
✎ Pairing: professor heeseung! + female college student reader!
✎ Warnings: smut, soft dom hee, service top hee, NSFW AUDIO, dirty talk, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, cum eating, teasing, mentions of masturbation.
✎ Genre: professor, student.
✎ Summary: you purposely fail your assignments so you can be alone with your professor.
✎ Number of words: 2,872k
Find your way around!
• Requested by anon. I hope you see this, lol currently not taking requests at the moment, but I decided to squeeze this one in.
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Class had ended, and everyone was scrambling towards the door, and so were you as you slung your backpack over your shoulder but stopped in your tracks when you heard your professor's voice.
“Y/n, would you mind staying behind? I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” Professor Lee speaks up, causing you to turn on your heels and face him as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
You walk towards his desk until you’re a few feet away from him and look down at your feet, trying to hide your flustered state. “Y-yes, Professor Lee?” You say quietly.
Your professor takes a seat and touches his fingers together while resting his elbows on his desk, and you can’t help but think he looks so attractive like that.
“Y/n, you turned in your assignment late again,” he says, followed by a sigh. “Could you tell me why?” He asks as you nervously pick at your nails.
“I-I forgot again,” you lie. “Sorry, professor lee” you lower your head once more. Truthfully you hadn’t forgotten you had been doing it on purpose, hoping he’d have you stay back and have a talk with you like he was doing now.
Never mind the fact that you’ve been getting zeros and partial credits on your assignments.
“Forgot? Now, y/n, that’s not like you at all,” he says with a slight smirk that you miss cause you were still looking down at the floor beneath your feet. “Is there something on your mind that you’d like to share? Maybe something bothering you? Distracting you, perhaps?” He teased, already knowing full well what you had been up to, and he wasn’t opposed to playing your naughty little game.
He wasn’t oblivious to you staring at him every time he walked into class. He didn’t miss the way your eyes would flicker down to his crotch whenever he readjusted his trousers, and he definitely didn’t miss when you caught your bottom lip between your teeth as you zoned out while staring at him and not so discreetly rubbing your legs together.
It amused him, to say the least, and he couldn’t lie. He’s thought about you on occasion quite a few times when he had his late-night masturbating sessions, moaning your name as he spilled his warm release all over his sweaty abdomen.
“N-no, Professor Lee,” you play innocent.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re all alone,” his soft, reassuring tone makes you look up at him finally, and you can’t help but get lost in his heavy lingering gaze. “I’m your professor. You can talk to me, Darlin” He stands up and walks around his desk until he's standing less than a foot away. “I wouldn’t happen to be the cause of you forgetting, would I?” He asks as he sneaks his hands inside your blazer and rests his palms on your sides, softly rubbing up and down.
You look up at him, breath hitching in your throat when he squeezes your hips, and you have to bite your lip to hold back a moan, and he can’t help but smile at the heavy effect he has on you. “Yes,” you whisper while analyzing every last centimeter of his beautiful face up close.
“Yeah?” He cups your cheeks with his large palms tilting your head up until your eyes meet. “What about me makes you forget, Darlin?” He strokes your cheek with his thumb, and you melt into his soft, warm touch.
You gulped, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and your mind wandered to all the lewd filthy thoughts you had about him during class.
“Everything,” you say, feeling a bit bolder as you take a step forward, pressing yourself against him, and he raises an amused brow at your move. “The way you talk,” you say quietly, eyes shifting back and forth between his. “The way you walk in the room” You grabbed his tie and looked at him innocently despite your not-so-innocent implications. “The way your brows crease when you’re focusing on your lecture, everything about you makes me distracted, professor. Every time you do the smallest thing, I forget about everything else but you” You bite your lower lip.
His lips upturn in a smile at your little confession, and his heart rate picks up from having the knowledge of you noticing all the little details about him.
“Hmm, yeah, is that so Darlin?” He lowers his hands, cupping the roundness of your ass.
“Yes,” you moan when he puts his hands under your dress and his warm palms make contact with your bare flesh.
“Well, Darlin, I am flattered” He leaned down, ghosting his lip’s against yours as he spoke in a low gravelly tone. “But, I’m still gonna have to teach you a lesson for being so forgetful” He presses a soft kiss to your lips, and you feel your body ignite from the short-lived contact of his lips meeting yours. “After all, I am your professor,” he smirks before swiping his tongue on your bottom lip and squeezing your soft ass, causing a breathy whine to slip past your lips as he uses the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth, swirling it with your as he pushes you against the edge of his desk. “Sound fair?” He asks, breathing heavily from the make-out session.
“Yes, professor lee” He smirks at your desperation, enjoying how pliant you have already become for him.
He easily lifts you up on his desk after hiking your skirt around your waist. He smiles at the sight of your white cotton panties and rubs his palm over your drenched core, feeling the damp fabric from how wet you had gotten just from kissing. “Darlin, is this all for your professor?” He teased and prodded his finger at your clothed hole.
“Yes, professor, all for you,” you breathe out, and your voice is already whiny and desperate with need as he rubs your clit over your underwear.
He pushed your panties to the side, gawking at the little mess you made of yourself, and he had barely even done anything to you. “You’re so cute,” he whispers while looking at you fondly, and you shy away from his gaze as he pushes one finger in your hole, groaning from how your pussy squeezes tightly around his single digit as he slowly works you open.
You lean back and rest on your elbows, watching as he adds another finger alongside his index, curling them up and massaging your upper walls with the pads of his fingers. “Darlin,” he whispers, and he still doesn’t take his eyes off your little cunt, all creamy and wet, just waiting to be filled with his cock. “You distract me too,” he hums at the little noises you make for him. “Make me forget what I’m saying all the time” He chuckles and rests his hand on your right thigh, rubbing your smooth flesh. “Sometimes you distract me so much that I can’t even stand up and come from behind my desk cause I’m so hard for you,” he gulped loudly, daring to accompany his two fingers by adding a third, and your eyes roll back in your head briefly from the pleasuring stretch of his fingers opening you up. “Even at night, when I go home, all I can think about is fucking your pretty little cunt” He looks at you briefly, and his eyes are dark and hooded with nothing but pure lust, and you moan at his dirty confession clenching around his fingers in satisfaction. “And even after I touch myself to the thought of you, it’s still never enough cause I know that my hand will never ever feel as good as you.” He blows a breath of cool air over your bare pussy.
Your legs shake in pleasure, and you’re not sure how much longer you can last when his fingers are fucking you so well.
“Just look at me” He looks between his legs, and you automatically find his line of vision staring at the very prominent tent in his khaki pants, moaning at the sight of his huge bulge.
“Professor,” you grip whatever you can on his desk, trying to stabilize yourself, but it’s no use as you become a squirming mess when he fastens the pace of his fingers.
“Yeah, darlin', look at what you do to your professor. Are you gonna make it better? Hmm?” He asks as he places his thumb on your clit, and your body jolts from the new sensation, mouth falling open, allowing a pleasured cry to escape as you feel the heat rising in the pit of your stomach.
“Fuck,” you mewl out, unknowingly rutting yourself on his fingers as you get closer to the indescribable bliss building up inside you. “Yes, professor lee, I’ll make it all better” Your mouth hangs open in a silent cry of his name, legs trembling and breath heavy as you come around his fingers and your pussy clenches rhythmically.
“I know you will, darling, always such a good little thing for your professor,” he coos, still pumping you full of his fingers and guiding you through your first orgasm as your lips, purse, and brows furrow in absolute total pleasure.
He retracts his fingers, nearly drooling as his hungry eyes rake over the wetness that covers his digits.
He sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking and slurping up all your essence as his hard throbbing dick twitches in need for you underneath his slacks. “Better than anything I could have ever imagined,” he moans at your taste, sucking his fingers, completely clean.
He impatiently reaches for his belt, quickly undoing the buckle and button before pulling down the zipper and finally freeing himself from the restrictive confines of his pants.
“Professor, you’re so b-big,” you stutter at his massive size, staring you in the face beneath his underwear, a huge wet spot staining the front and outlining his thick tip.
He chuckles at your cute observation, and you blush. “All yours,” He says, rubbing himself over his underwear. “Gonna be good and take professor's big cock?” he strokes his palm over your thigh, and you nod frantically, which pleases him immensely. “Mmm yeah, Darlin,” he rasps and pulls down his underwear revealing his delicious cock to you, and it’s even better than what you dreamed about. It was thick, long, and veiny tip leaking with fresh beads of pearly precum as he worked the wetness over his shaft.
“Need you inside so bad” The words mindlessly slip past your lips, but you’re too entranced by him to even take notice or care. “Wanna feel your big cock inside of me, professor” You spread your legs as wide as they can go clenching around nothing as your wet gaping hole awaits to be stuffed full of your professor’s massive cock.
He rests his heavy length on your wet pussy dragging it back and forth slowly. “Don’t worry, professor is gonna give you what you need” His eyebrows grew taut in pleasure just from the feeling of your wetness soaking his length as he gripped your thighs, still massaging your aching core with his warm cock. “Gonna make your tiny little pussy feel good, okay, darlin?”
“Okay,” you say in a breathless whine, and you both release a sharp breath as he presses his tip at your hole and slowly sheaths himself into the warmth of your walls.
“Oh my fucking god,” he practically growls when your silky heat invites him in, hugging his cock tightly with your warmth. “Oh, Darlin, your pussy feels amazing.”
“Yeah?” You hold onto his wrist, watching your tight pussy stretching open and making room for his dick to sink deeper inside.
“Oh yeah,” he confirms while his eyes focus on the same spot that you’re looking at. “You see that, Darlin? See me splitting your little pussy with my cock?” Your eyes roll back and he has to bite back a smirk, now steadily rocking his hips into you, the quiet squelch between your bodies making both of your heads spin.
He pulls out, leaving nothing but his tip inside, grabbing his thick base and teasingly dipping in and out of your soaked hole.
You whine at the loss-making a fuss from the dull, empty feeling. “Awe, Darlin, what’s the matter?” He asks as if he’s not fully aware of what he’s doing to you right now.
“Please, professor lee” you pout and make a dissatisfied sound as he pulls all the way out, leaving you completely empty. “Please, no more teasing, please,” you beg desperately as your hole tightens around nothing and your back arched off his desk. Your hole searches for his cock so he can give you what you need and fill you up again. “Need you,” you breathe out, chest heaving, and you feel as if you were going to cry if he didn’t stick it back in soon.
“Me too,” he moans when he fills you up again, this time setting the perfect pace. “Need you too, Darlin, so bad” He puts emphasis on his words by leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.
He grabbed your hips, sensually rolling his hips into you, stroking your walls at all the right angles to make your toes curl.
His tip roams your insides until the slight curve of his cock finds that sweet spot that makes you moan loudly and beg him for more and more. “Yes, right there” He doesn’t go harder or faster. He listens to you attentively, brushing the head of his cock over that same spot over and over.
“Yeah, right there, Darlin? That feel good?” He smirks, knowing damn well it does. He deep strokes your heat until it feels numb from the consent in and out motion, and by now, your legs are shaking wildly. Your moans are a little too loud, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he places the pad of his thumb over your swollen, engorged clit.
You let go of his wrists, falling back on his desk, not being able to hold yourself up properly anymore cause the pleasure he’s giving to your body is just too much to handle, and your lungs nearly give out from your intense pants and moans.
“That’s right” Your disheveled state makes him go completely feral as he speeds up the tempo chasing his high with you. “Take your professor's big cock Darlin” he grunts, snapping his hips erratically as his thighs clap loudly against your plump ass, and the noises overtake his classroom along with your soft moans and his heavy breath.
“Professor Lee, im gonn- fuck I’m- I’m gonna cum!” He holds onto your waist for dear life, restlessly pounding into your tight cunt as you clench around his girthy cock.
“Go ahead, Darlin, cream your professor's cock” He pants loudly, giving you his all with every last thrust as you cum around his cock, whimpering and moaning as you feel the heat surge throughout your entire body. Your muscles tense up, and your toes curl, mouth falling open as you let out high pitch moans from the breathtaking orgasm he gives to you.
“Please, professor lee cum in me,” you plead in your fucked out state, and just those words alone are enough to make him lose any ounce of self-control as he spirals down with you.
“Darlin,” he moans, and his hips stutter. He quickly loses his rhythm as he grunts and spills his creamy release inside your pulsating cunt, filling you until you’re brimming over with his white gooey cum.
You pull him closer by his tie, and he breathes heavily against your lips, kissing you passionately as he rolls his hip continuously to empty his throbbing balls in your heat, moaning into your mouth as your cunt coaxes out all he has to give.
Once you both somewhat catch your breath’s, he kisses your forehead as he gently pulls his softening cock out of you, quickly moving your panties to the side so your cunt can bathe in his cum. “There, I know you forget a lot, so I thought I’d give you a little reminder” He bites on his bottom lip after giving you a teasing smile and nudges his nose against yours before leaning up and putting his trousers back on.
He grabs your hand, helping you stabilize yourself once you stand up from his desk, and it takes you a moment to stand up straight cause your legs are still literally shaking. “Thank you for the lesson, professor lee” You say with a hint of bashfulness in your tone as you smiled at him shyly.
“Of course,” he smiles at you as you gather up the rest of your things and get ready to head out of the classroom. “And darlin', if you ever need another lesson, feel free to ask me for help anytime” He winked and collected all the disheveled papers on his desk.
“Yes, professor lee” you smile, and with that, you finally leave his class, and come to think of it, you’re probably gonna need his help a lot more often from now on.
FIN.
Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback! - 🐹
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desultxry · 5 months
Text
Midnight
Valkyrae x male reader 1.7k words
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It’s kinda obvious. The usual suspects are at the table, some drinking, talking, others eating. You’re not at that table. To be completely fair with yourself and with the circumstance, you were not going to stand any chance if she asked. Rae barely did, to begin with. It was more of a gaze, a hand on your thigh, and a signaling squeeze with her nails. You’re here for nothing else, in any event; that’s what you are to her. You came to terms with that long ago.
And it’s pretty fucking obvious, by the way. People know you two go missing often. Expect it. The fact that her clothes are nothing but pure convenience adds on to the evident scenario. It’s all an excuse: an excuse for a shirt, an excuse for a skirt—why even bother to sew pockets on it anyway—
She’s leading you around a hallway, then up some stairs. It’s all rather lavish for a streamer house. Only the place itself looks grand and expensive, however; there’s a mess just about everywhere. Everyone you know has come and gone, eaten and napped and drank to varying degrees. You were, of course, invited last minute. Quite literally. It’s close to midnight and they had started to gather by dusk. And it’s only when she’s bored, you dare say even a little desperate, that she texts you. Parties like these, anyway, still have a long way to go. 
Consider yourself her intermission.
Rae doesn’t bother to get in a room and hide away from accidentally prying eyes. At this point, you try to recall, who hasn’t caught you two yet? It’s a fucked-up thrill to now hope for, admittedly. 
She gets a hand under the hem of your shirt, ghosting around you until finding grip by the small of your back. Her nails dig into you like before. The smirk at the corner of her lips indicates she likes that, always has. See, Rae has you pinned against a wall. There’s a part of her that would enjoy being greedy and would like to bide her time, taking every sweet little second to undress, tease, caress. More often than not, however—as is the case today—she leans towards the frantic and frenzied. It’s concept versus practice. All that teasing and flirting on the phone always gets her so worked up that by the end Rae is nothing but a wet, needy mess. She’s ready to get fucked and you always find yourself at her beck and call.
Her breath clashes warm against yours while her other hand toys at your front. As her thumb plays with the elastic waistband of your shorts, she looks down. The bulge is—inevitably, dutifully—visible. Rae gets a playful knee between your legs so that her thigh brushes and incites it further. 
There’s a back and forth you play out, somewhat theatrical, and mostly for her entertainment. She starts with some fleeting kiss that’s less of a brush and more of a quick peck-and-smack before pulling back. Light and lascivious. You play it out for the sake of doing so. A you’re late from her makes you respond, simply, by looking at your watch with dramatic intent. Oh, I should apologize? You, a tad defiant (which is, as it happens, unintended, though it works out). She scoffs, of course, and pulls the waistband lower. It’s taut and at that point of no return—between your hips and the rest of your legs—as Rae still keeps those nails on your back sharp and prickling. Yes, you should. Her hand at the front runs cold down your stomach and past the yielding fabric. The base of your cock is warm, stiffening further when her cool touch wraps its commanding grip around you. 
There’s not much teasing after that. Again: Rae is needy.
However much control she may have in the circumstance, whatever say in the matter, most of it melts away with little resistance once she crouches down to face your length. With your waistband sitting comfortably around your thighs now, you assist Rae: she’s eager (see also: salivating), causing disarray in her hairstyle as she gathers it all up onto your awaiting palm. You’ve played this game before. Once you have proper grip, her lips part. You enjoy the image for a second too long when her expectant eyes gaze up, imploring. So you bring her in. The slow approach is, really, the crux of all this. She texts you, calls you. Tells you when, where, and how  she wants it. But the moment—down to the literal second—when she resigns any and all sense of control, she hands it all to you. All of that authority. All in the grip of her hair.
Yes, you’re the one against the wall, and yes, Rae’s the one with her hands on your thighs, holding on like her life depends on it, but it’s you who’s setting the pace, thrusting slow into her warm, slick mouth. Rae’s lips envelop you in full, down to the base, as her tongue runs circles under your shaft to make further mess of all the dripping spit. Every so often, a gag, accompanied by this light moan with every breath she takes up at the tip. Pulling her away, a trail of spit bridges between you and her lower lip. It falls right on her chin. Rather indecent.
Rae stands, shimmying and hiking the short skirt up her thighs and plump ass. It sits nicely atop her hips, around her waist. “Put it in me, please.” 
She’s one to put it in herself, in any case. So you bend your knees, sliding your back down the wall. Rae turns and you align perfectly. Considering the amount of spit, it takes nothing for it to slip in. One clean motion and you’re surrounded by heat; the glide is pure vice.
“Fuck—” You, voiceless.
Whichever bits of hair were previously gathered with your fist fell a tad coiled and intertwined down her back. It really is that simple. On queue—because Rae knows what she’s doing—she flips a strand over her shoulder to join the rest of her frizzed locks. Because you also know what you’re doing, your hands bide their time, knowing how desperate she can get. The way she pushes back on your light thrusts, onto your cock, is her tell. 
Your palms land on her plush and rippling ass first. You’re barely fucking up into her as Rae backs onto your hips. When her head drops back a bit—hair draped over this sinful arch of her back—Rae pats your thigh. “What are you waiting for?” Looking back and swaying her hair. 
Your hands clutch her ass harder before letting go. The makeshift ponytail that you manage is disheveled and messy, but it gets the job done. “For you to say it,” you admit. With one committed thrust, you sink all the way inside her folds. Covered, wet. The fist around her hair pulls slow, steady, as Rae further arches and bends and keens. 
The best part of all of this is how you both have it down to, largely, a routine. All of that teasing hours before while she got ready: photos and texts and short but dangerous clips of everything but her face. Then while you got ready, all because of the expectation and promise. Rae would send a photo with the phone at a dangerously high angle—could see all the way down her tiny top. You’d send something equally incriminating and before you knew it (and you knew), you’d get the call. She isn’t one to invite over text; that’s all just to start. Rae’s one to call simply because, yeah, she gets off on that vocal confirmation—on the sound of your voice falling deep and serious and saying yes, I’ll be there in a few. Implied under all that hush-toned discussion was the obvious rest.
Now, the real best part of all this is how she began taking pills, what, two weeks ago? It’s not something you’re able to pinpoint anymore. You have literally lost count. 
Some way, somehow, Rae’s the one against the wall now. Her chest is willingly pressed against it as her open palm fails to find any grip to hold on to the flat surface—at this point and in a different setting it would be the sheets, a pillow. Her other hand works the pads of her fingertips on her warm, sopping wet clit. If it weren’t for the music and noise downstairs, you figure, it would be downright audible.
And she doesn’t have to tell you that she’s cumming. Her fucked-out cunt pulses around the nonstop fucking of your cock. You also catch her free hand, fingers bracing against the solid surface, attempting to divert all of that energy onto something. 
Though she does tell you that she’s cumming, anyway. “I’m—fuck—” A  sharp inhale, followed by a relieved exhale. “I’m cumming.” Rae tenses up. It’s this high-strung, pent-up shudder that finally finds its path of least resistance—everywhere. Her whole body quivers when you push your length inside of her in full. You feel her fingers shock-still against her nub, pressing tight and firm. 
Once she subsides you realize you’re not long for it either. The pull-back out is something of an impossibility; you’re overstimulated at this stage. Your hands have been everywhere: around her waist, grasping at her hips, pulling all of that lush hair. And your eyes just get everything, don’t they? Rae’s face every time she ventures a look back, her now blush-red ass from the constant thrusts, and that desperate, telling hand that let you confirm her inescapable orgasm. There’s certainly more there but your vision turns to haze. You fuck her again and again.
Then you cum.
The thrusting is uninterrupted and messy and delirious. Hot white paints the inside of Rae’s pussy as it likewise escapes out with each and every plunge into it. You’re not even able to state it, let her know it’s coming. You just fuck and fuck and fuck. Incessant. Until your legs just about fail.
~
And they nearly give out while coming down the stairs. You’re shaky and weak. Drained. Rae takes everything—not like you’re unwilling, this has been established. But here you are: the steps lead directly towards the foyer of the compound and she’s showing you the door.
Rae gives you a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’m busy all day.” You respond plainly.
“It’ll be late. Late late.”
You nod slow, hands in pockets, turn. “Sounds good.” And walk away.
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writersdrug · 24 days
Text
The Good Friend
Chapter 1. A New Hobby
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Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.
Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.
A/N: The people have spoken
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Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.
There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.
Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."
Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.
It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.
Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."
Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -
But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.
Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?
There was only one way to find out.
Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.
However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.
"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."
"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"
Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."
"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"
"You fuckin' wish."
It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.
He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.
"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."
Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.
You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.
"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."
Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-
Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?
"Johnny."
He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.
"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."
Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?
"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."
Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"
"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."
That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.
"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.
He couldn't.
Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.
"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"
"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."
Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.
So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.
Like a good friend.
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Taglist: @a-sadmilky
Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja
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