#do that? and then if I don’t feel well day of and need to be home she gets (rightfully) frustrated because I’m bailing but it’s

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 48: Wild Times

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

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,518 words

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

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

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“How do you feel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you holding up?”

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

“It’s a big change.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Imagine Johnny as a kid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh good.” He playfully rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t mean to interrupt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you behave?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

At least for now.

Simon makes good on his promise.

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

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

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

God it’s been so long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh god how you’ve missed this.

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

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

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

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

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

“Me or my pussy?” You smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s our favorite toy.” Simon says.

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

You lick your lips. “Have you ever…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ still at it.”

“They’re young.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Think it’s over?” Johnny asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounded like it.” Johnny mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was quite the sight.” Kyle grins.

“I bet.” John says.

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

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

“Wha’ about me?” Johnny whines.

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

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

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

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

“No…” Johnny flushes, looking bashful.

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” Kyle asks.

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

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

“I still don’t get it.”

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

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

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

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

“I did.”

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

“You lost at that too.”

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

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

“Yes.” You pout.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re getting what you want.

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

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

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

The scent of your alpha, the scent of home.

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

[minswriting]

BORED - S.R x READER

About: Spencer is finally home for once and you’re both spending the day relaxing. However, you get bored.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, post prison spencer (not relevant in any way, shape, or form), porn no plot, whiny reader, fingering (f), mostly fluff tbh lol

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Border made by @/cafekitsune! Please comment and reblog to support your creators. Not proof read

Cozy days inside were some of your favorite kinds of days. Wearing comfortable clothing, snuggled in the blankets with a book while it rained outside, and the best part? Spending your cozy day with your handsome boyfriend. It was rare for Spencer to be home, especially on a random weekday such as today.

And so, the two of you were lying in bed, reading separately with your legs entangled together. Spencer had both hands on his book, engrossed in the pages as he read quickly and diligently. You, on the other hand, were starting to get bored with your book. It’s not because it was a boring story; it was very interesting. But here you were, in your bed with your amazing and attractive boyfriend, doing nothing. And there is certainly something the two of you could be doing.

You sighed loudly, closing your book and placing it on the nightstand next to you before looking at Spencer. He didn’t acknowledge you, focusing heavily on the book. So you did the thing any person would do in this situation. You sighed dramatically, flopping your head onto Spencer’s shoulder.

“Sweetheart?” Spencer asked, furrowing his eyebrow in amusement at you. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m bored,” You whined, a small pout forming on your lips.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgement, closing his book and placing it on his nightstand. “I see,” He replied understandingly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head, holding you close to him. “Is there anything you particularly feel like doing at the moment?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, pursing your lips as you looked at your lap, a small smirk forming on your lips. Of course, you knew what you wanted to do. You had been thinking about it for at least the past five minutes. But Spencer didn’t need to know exactly what you were thinking quite yet.

“Is that so?” Spencer asked, moving his head to try and look at your face. He noticed the hint of a smirk on your lips and quirked an eyebrow. “I think you do know exactly what you want, baby.”

“Maybe,” You replied, lifting your head from Spencer’s shoulder. “But perhaps you should try to figure it out.”

Spencer thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” he murmured. “I don’t know what you want if you don’t ask for it, darling.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes. “But maybe I don’t want to ask,” you said dramatically.

Spencer simply hummed in response, rolling his eyes in response as a loving smile graced his lips. He used his other hand to put two fingers underneath your chin, lifting your head towards his as he leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was soft and gentle, lips moving together in sync. After a few moments, Spencer pulled away and looked at you. “Is that what you wanted?” He asked.

You thought about it for a moment, pursing your lips jokingly before shaking your head no. “Not quite,” you replied, giving Spencer a mischievous smile. “But certainly not unwelcome.”

Spencer kissed you again, this time a bit harder. You maneuvered yourself to lie down on the pillows, pulling Spencer with you as he lay down next to you, his lips still attached to yours. You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips, causing Spencer to giggle as well as you guys kissed one another.

He pulled away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. “What about that?” he whispered.

“I think you’re getting closer,” You murmured, grabbing one of Spencer’s hands and sliding it underneath your shirt.

Spencer smiled, chuckling softly as he slid his hand to your chest. He knew you hadn’t been wearing a bra underneath your shirt. Why would you when you’re spending the day at home? He massaged your left tit, thumbing your nipple. You made a small noise, biting your lip at the feeling of Spencer’s cold hand on your skin.

He leaned in to capture your lips once more, his hand sliding from your chest to the waistband of your pajama shorts, playing with the fabric in a teasing manner. “Tell me what you want,” Spencer breathed against your lips, pulling away to allow you to speak.

“I want you to touch me,” you sighed, opening your legs for Spencer.

“From the looks of it, I already am, sweetheart,” Spencer replied playfully.

You pouted, realizing that Spencer would make you ask for what you want directly. “You know what I mean,” you said.

“No, I don’t think I do,” Spencer teased.

You whined once more. “I want you to finger me,” you said shyly, the pout still on your face.

Spencer cooed, pressing his lips against yours to kiss your pout away. “All you had to do was tell me, baby,” he exclaimed, his fingers sliding under your pajama shorts. His pointer finger went to your slit, feeling your wetness. Your breath hitched as you spread your legs for him even more. “You’re so wet,” Spencer breathed out, his breath fanning your face.

“Been wanting you all day,” You said while licking your lips, looking into Spencer’s beautiful brown eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything, darling?” He asked, his pointer finger moving to your clit as he began to rub gentle circles.

You made a soft noise before responding. “Wanted to give you time to relax,” you said breathily.

“What better way to relax than to make you feel good?” Spencer replied hotly. He added his middle finger, adding pleasure to your clit.

You moaned, your hand moving to Spencer’s bicep to hold on to. Spencer kissed your forehead, watching the way your face contorted with pleasure. He slipped his middle finger inside of you, causing you to gasp from the intrusion. “Spencer,” you moaned gently as he began thrusting his finger.

“You’re so lovely, sweetheart,” Spencer murmured, moving his finger slowly inside of you. He kissed you again, more passionately, as he moved his finger inside of you. You kissed Spencer back, or at least tried to, but it was hard when Spencer added a second finger and immediately curled them, causing you to whimper into his mouth.

The feeling of Spencer’s fingers inside of you was so good. The way he moved them, reaching spots that you can never really reach yourself. He knew your body much better than you knew your own. Perhaps it’s his extensive knowledge of the human body or maybe it’s because he takes his time in knowing what brings you maximum pleasure. But regardless, Spencer always knew exactly how to make you feel good.

You pulled away from the kiss, throwing your head back in pleasure. Spencer took the opportunity to pepper your neck with feather-like kisses as he moved his fingers faster. “Oh my god,” You moaned, feeling your stomach tightening as your orgasm approached. “I’m so close, Spence,” You said.

“Atta girl,” Spencer murmured against your skin. “Go ahead and cum for me, yeah? My pretty girl.”

That was all you needed as your body began tensing. Your thighs clamped around Spencer’s hand, the walls of your cunt clenching around his digits, and your back arching. “Oh fuck!” You mewled as your orgasm overcame you.

When you came down from your high, Spencer pulled his hand away as he looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Still bored?” He asked.

You shook your head, still breathless from your orgasm. “No,” You breathed out. “But…I know something else that could pass the time,” You said as you crawled onto Spencer’s lap, a cheeky grin on your face.

“Oh?” Spencer asked, pretending as if he hadn’t a clue. “I wonder what it could be.”

And so, the rest of the day was spent with the two of you in bed, naked, as you rode his cock until you were both satisfied.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

the after party

fratboy!Jaehyun x f!reader

summary: Jaehyun realizes he's going to need to put some real work in to try to win you back. What, he didn't really think it would be easy to win you back, did he?

word count: 6.7k

warnings: profanity, angst, hurt, violence (a fight), drinking alcohol

a/n: THIS IS A PART 2! Read part 1, when the party's over, for context and catch up on more of my fratboy!Jae au!

dividers from strangergraphics <3

taglist! @chishiyapologist @hyunniebuns @cryingforjae @myfavoritedelusion @urlocalbeaner5 @ynzyy @seoksoop @ive-cool

Jung Jaehyun never thought he was stupid before this break up— could he even call it that? He always just figured he had one of those brains that wasn’t quite meant for academics and his strengths laid elsewhere. For a while he was able to convince himself that this was true. But then everything with you happened…

He’d gone and effectively ruined what could have possibly been the best, healthiest, most wonderful, most amazing relationship of his life just because he was a fucking idiot who didn’t know how to properly handle his feelings. Well, no, not an idiot for that reason alone, but more of an idiot because he said horrendous thing to you as a shit defense mechanism. He couldn’t chase after you, he couldn’t watch you leave, he couldn’t reach out, now, he could barely hear your name being said. He watched helplessly as the pictures of the two of you disappeared from your instagram, how one by one your friends all removed him from their following, how you blocked him, how soon enough he was like a ghost who had never even been a part of your life at all. A cautionary tale you’d one day share with your kids when you met the right man. He hated it. He hated it so much.

Every night he laid in bed, staring at his ceiling with a torturous pain in his chest that didn’t subside no matter how hard he cried, how loud he screamed into a pillow, no matter how much he drank, or how much he wrote about it. His actions, his words, the look of absolute pain and betrayal on your face haunted him unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Every time he laid down to clear his mind, there were your tear filled eyes staring at him in horror as his own voice echoed in his head, “what the fuck makes you think you’re so special?” How could he have asked you that?! How could he have spoken to you like that?! You’re the most special girl on campus, in the country, in his life, on the face of this planet! He hates himself for saying that! 

Six weeks have passed of feeling like this. Six long weeks that pass by in a very numb, dull manner. Every day without you is bleak. He misses hearing you talk, he misses kissing you, he misses just being near you. It’s too much for him. Sometimes he’ll catch glimpses of you across campus and go running over to you, ready to fall to your feet and beg for your forgiveness, but one of your friends always sends him a glare that scares him to his core. It’s enough to keep him away from you.

It’s not just your friends that don’t let him forget. Haechan doesn’t make himself shy to drunkenly shout, “Jaehyun, I hate you!” It happens at every frat party Nu Chi hosts. It’s the only time Haechan even looks in Jaehyun’s direction since everything went down. It’s the only time he talks to him or yells at him or acknowledges him. Haechan has made it very obvious whose side he took in the breakup and it’s very obviously not Jaehyun. The other guys are at least more subtle with their disappointment and disapproval. They can pretend to have conversations with him in front of his face while also simultaneously talking about him behind his back. He’s caught Johnny and Taeyong doing that multiple times. 

After 6 weeks of feeling like shit, Jaehyun decides it’s time to at least try to talk to you seriously. Maybe he doesn’t go about it the best way, scratch that, he absolutely does not, but he’s ready to try. He doesn’t want to go home for Thanksgiving break and explain to his family that he fucked up the best relationship he ever had. He’s determined to get you back if it’s the last think he does. 

Jaehyun remembers your schedule for the semester and walks over to your dorm when he knows you’ll be home. In one hand he’s got a bundle of flowers, and in the other he’s got a box of your stuff that you’d left behind. Right, so… maybe returning your stuff wasn’t the best move, but maybe it would open the door to conversation somehow. At least, that’s what he was banking on. 

He knocks, his heart pounding in his chest as he hears shuffling behind the door. There’s quick stomping behind the door and then Ari opens it. He feels disappointment just flood his body, but he keeps his smile on his face. “Hey Ari, is she uh, is she here?” 

He can hear you whisper angrily, “tell him I’m not here!”

Ari recites robotically, “she’s not here.”

Jaehyun nods slowly, shame flooding his body. You don’t even want to see him. That stings like a damn smack to the face. He clears his throat, “well, I brought her things back. I brought her some flowers too. Could you… could you tell her that I’m really sorry? I know I fucked up, but I’d really just like her to know that I didn’t mean anything I said. I would never.”

He can hear you scoff, it sounds close, you must be standing on the other side of the door and he feels his heart pound in his chest. He’s never felt like this before, so nervous and anxious of what someone might think of him. Being around you has never made him feel anxious, yet here you are, 2 feet away and he feels like a kid with a crush all over again.

“Tell him he can fuck off and that I never want to see his stupid fucking face ever again,” comes your harsh whisper. A black garbage bag lands beside Ari’s leg, “and tell him to take his shit too.” Fuck… it was one thing to imagine the level of anger you held toward him, but to hear it hurt unlike anything else.

Ari grabs the bag and thrusts it toward Jaehyun, “she said this is for you.”

Jaehyun takes the bag, feeling a sense of desperation. You’re so close, he’s right here. All he wants to do is talk. He just wants to talk to you and apologize, that’s it. He wants you to know that he didn’t mean anything he said and he would always have a special place in his heart for you. Always. 

“Sweetheart, I— please,” Jaehyun tries. 

Ari’s face pulls into what he assumes to be is a somewhat sympathetic frown, jerking the garbage bag in his direction once more, “this is your stuff.”

The painful feeling in his chest returns. A tight, burning sensation that steals the breath from his lungs and brings a pressure to his eyes. He nods silently, setting the box beside Ari’s feet before taking the bag from her hands. Very weakly he manages to get out, “these are for her.”

Ari takes the flowers, sending Jaehyun a tiny smile before he makes his way down the hall like he has many times before. He hears your door open and he turns with a feeling of bright hope. You’re going to come to him. Everything is going to be ok. He’ll get to apologize, you’ll take him back, and everything will be fine. It’s not you though, it’s just your arm tossing the bouquet of flowers down the hall in his direction. 

His heart drops. 

But he’s not giving up yet.

The next time he tries to talk to you admittedly, isn’t his best work, but it was spur of the moment! He decides to wait outside one of the buildings where your class is being held after one of his lectures ended early. He’s not proud to admit that he’s been studying the schedule of your classes that you sent him before everything went down. Actually, he’s been religiously poring over every interaction the two of you shared. He’s rereading texts, listening to songs you shared, and staring at pictures. He knows that this isn’t a class that you share with any of your friends and on these you walk home alone. It’s the perfect opportunity for him to act.

Luckily, he’s better prepared this time. He’s been thinking about his apology to you on a regular basis. He thinks about it when he showers, when he eats, before bed, during chapter meetings, in class. Every chance he gets to think about what he’s going to say, he uses to practice his words over and over again. By now, he knows the exact words he wants to say, he knows what he wants to apologize for, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he wants you.

He sits on a bench just a couple yards away from your building, anxiously twiddling his thumbs and biting his bottom lip. He thinks he must look crazy. His hair is unkempt, bags under his eyes, and his knee is bouncing anxiously,.The class starts to pour out, but Jaehyun knows well enough that you won’t be one of the first ones out of the class. You like to stay behind to clear up any amount of confusion you had, even if it was just a word you thought you misheard. He finds himself wishing it was last semester all over again when the two of you had that child development class together. God, he’d do anything to go back and do it all over again, but better this time. He wouldn’t let you slip away if he could do it again.

He wipes his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans and stands. His heart starts to race in his chest when he sees you. You look beautiful, radiant even. The warm sun illuminates your hair, making you look like an angel right from heaven. You’re looking down at a piece of paper as you walk down the steps, right in his direction. He hates that he find himself thinking that you look even too pretty, too calm. It doesn’t look like you got your heartbroken just a month ago. You look normal, too normal while he looks like shit. 

He clears his throat and shakes that thought out of his head, exhaling to calm himself before he calls out, “Sweetheart, hey.”

Your head snaps up like someone just scared you. Your eyes are wide, spine straight, and whole body tensed. Jaehyun notices immediately that your body language tells him that you’re uncomfortable. It makes him feel sick.

Your eyes flick up to meet his but you immediately begin walking away from him. Not a word. Not more than a second of eye contact. Just walking away right away.

He starts following you, reaching out to lightly grasp your wrist, “Sweets I just want to talk. You don’t even have to respond-”

You wrench your arm from his touch and his breath catches in his throat. Your gaze is fiery and angry, but your voice is calm, “what the hell makes you think that I would allow you to speak to me again?” Your voice is angry, as is your gaze, but fuck, your eyes look so pretty. The beautiful, deep pools of what he’s discovered is his favorite color to have ever existed. His mind knows it, and his heart certainly knows it too. There’s still a connection between the two of you. Something just clicks when he looks you in the eye.

“I just want to apologize,” Jaehyun stutters, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“And you can continue wanting to do so. Maybe I’ll let you wait and stew around for four months feeling like a total dumbass like you did to me,” you bite at him. 

“Sweetheart, I’m just sorry, alright?” Jaehyun tries again, feeling desperate. It feels like he’s trying to grasp at slippery grains of sand that just keep slipping through his fingers. Why is this so difficult?

“I am too.” You reply shortly, turning on your heel and walking away before he can say anything else. He knows you don’t mean that you’re sorry about what you said during the fight. He knows that your sorry means that you’re sorry you ever wasted your time with him.

His throat feels tight, his eyes burn with unshed tears as he watches you walk away. Nothing has ever hurt as badly as this does. He doesn’t care that past hook-ups could walk by and see him about to cry, he doesn’t care that he’ll look uncool. He cares that he feels helpless, that he won’t get you back. He feels like he fucked up so badly that you might never even look in his direction again. 

But still he refuses to give up until he can actually give you the apology you deserve. He just hates that the mere sight of you makes him clam up and forget everything he had planned to say.

After the last try he starts to go a little crazy. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he had created an extra Instagram account to watch your friend’s Instagram stories. He sees how you practically glow on the screen. You look so ethereal. Like a goddess straight from Mount Olympus. He spends countless nights tapping away through countless friends’ Instagram stories. He sees how they all rally around you with dinner parties, movie nights, partying, and clubbing. In every picture, he can only focus on your face. Your beautiful face smiling so brightly at the camera like nothing horrible has happened to you. Like some dumbass with a 2.0 GPA (barely hanging on by a thread) hasn’t broken your heart and likely made you wary of any romantic interactions to come in the future. Every picture of you, every version of your smiling face, obscured with a plastic cup, covered with a sheet mask, eyes looking elsewhere, is burned into the deep recesses of his mind. How could he have ever hurt someone so beautiful, inside and out?

It’s one of the reasons why he knows you’re at a fucking Alpha Sig party tonight… looking hot as hell in a cute little crop top and your tightest jeans. He sends a mental thank you to Ari for posting a short clip of you guys taking a shot together before you dance off the burning sensation in your throat. It’s the same reason he manages to convince a handful of his own Nu Chi brothers into going to the same party with some weak excuse of fraternity relations.

That’s how he finds himself here, pressed against the wall of the Alpa Sig frat house, hoodie over his head, dead sober as he watches you dance happily with your friends. You look so happy, so carefree, like a love interest right from one of the romance movies you’d made him watch what feels like 100 years ago. Nights where he grumbled about not wanting to watch a stupid romance movie but ended up more invested than you were.

He watched you like he was stuck in some kind of trance. The colored lights flashed and strobed across the crowd of gyrating bodies in what he assumed was the living room when they weren’t partying. He watched as your hips swayed, arms raised as you move to the bone-shaking beat of the house music. He watches as Kira joins you and Ari, watches as she pushes another plastic cup into your hand, he sees how your eyes clench shut at the taste, but you don’t stop drinking whatever you have in your cup. He can’t help the way his eyes track every enticing sway of your hips, how your crop top lifts just a few inches which makes his mouth water. You don’t look inhibited by any kind of break up or broken heart like he does. He looks like some kind of sick and tired ghost summoned to ruin the vibe of the party. Where he used to attract girls like flies to a pot of sweet honey, his frankly off-putting vibe radiates off him so that the only people that can stand to be around him are his brothers that he dragged here. None of them would have ever been found dead at an Alpha Sig party if it weren’t for Jaehyun, and he would have never been found here it it weren’t for you.

He drags his tired eyes away from Yuta and Johnny’s faces, back to you. You and… who the fuck is that touching you?! There’s a random guy pressed to your back with one hand on your hip and the other on your waist, rising slowly until his hand is completely concealed by the tiny t-shirt you wear. He can see the guy dip his head down, whispering something into your ear before his lips begin to press against the slope of your neck. 

Jaehyun is moving before he can even register what he’s feeling. He’s pushing through people until he has his hands on the neck of this asshole who had the guts to touch you. And then Jaehyun’s fist is hitting this guy’s jaw. Then, the punching doesn’t stop. Not when you start to scream and beg Jaehyun to stop. Not when Jaehyun has this guy on the floor beneath him. Not when the broken skin on his knuckles starts to sting. Not when the music stops. He can’t help it, he can’t stop himself. “She’s mine you fucking asshole! How dare you?!” He yells and it feels euphoric. It feels like the only way he can get out any fraction of the pain he’s been feeling for a month and a half now. 

Four hands haul Jaehyun off the douchebag. A panting douchebag who sits up and smiles smugly at Jaehyun before calling out, “you punch like a bitch!”

Johnny and Yuta grunt while they drag Jaehyun out of the house, where the cold air of the night feels like a splash of ice cold water against his face. A refreshing feeling that lasts for only a second before you’re storming down the stairs with tears streaming down your cheeks before you’re coming at him and roughly shoving his chest. He shouldn’t feel his heart skip a beat when your hands touch him, but he does. 

You shove him again, “who the fuck do you think you are?! Huh?”

“Sweetheart, he was touching all up on you. I wasn’t going to just stand and watch it happen,” he explains while he holds his hands up in mock defense.

Your tears don’t stop, your breathing quickens, “and what if I wanted him to touch me? What makes you the all knowing genius for what I want and don’t want? Why the fuck does that matter?!”

His breath catches in his throat and the harsh feel of your hands on his chest makes him take a faltering step back, “b-but that’s not you. You don’t… you don’t do stuff like that.” He knows you don’t. You made it very clear to him when you first met that his flirting wasn’t going to get him into your pants and even when he genuinely tried, it took him weeks to get you to see that he had real feelings for you. 

“Yeah?” You breathe out, using the back of your hand to wipe away your mascara-mixed tears, “how well did my normal work out for me with you? God forbid a girl just wants to have a good time.”

He feels his ears ring, eyes widen, had he hurt you so badly that you were just going to go around and do whatever with random men? Not even random men, a fucking Alpha Sig brother?! That’s lower than low. That’s even lower than the bar he had set in hell for you.

His voice sounds broken, “have a good time with me!”

You scoff, your face twisting into one of disgust, “you’re a piece of shit, Jung Jaehyun.”

You’re turning on your heel and practically running away from him before he can respond, but this time he doesn’t just let you walk away. He’s made that mistake twice before and only idiots let the same mistake happen three times. 

He’s moving after you quickly, desperately calling out, “I’m sorry!”

Johnny is in front of him before he can get too far, too close to you. His hand is gripping the back of Jaehyun’s hoodie, preventing him from running any further. “You have to let her go right now, dude,” Johnny tells him calmly.

Jaehyun sidesteps to get around his taller best friend but Johnny won’t let that slide. He anticipates every single one of Jaehyn’s moves. Jaehyn feels his breathing speed up, he’s clutching at the front of his hoodie like the fabric is suffocating him, “Johnny, please. I have to apologize.”

“She doesn't want to hear it right now. Nothing good would come of a conversation between the two of you right now,” Taeyong adds quietly.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen as he turns to face his friends surround him with a wild look in his eyes, “do you guys want me to be fucking miserable forever? I need her back!”

“You fucked up, Jaehyun! Do you know that?” Johnny yells, stepping forward to shove Jaehyun roughly until he’s stumbling back. A swift smack to the back of his head follows the harsh shove.

“I know that! You don’t think that I don’t think about that afternoon on a daily basis?!” Jaehyun screams back, while rubbing the back of his head.

Haechan steps in now, who knows where the hell this kid came from, “no! You need to sit here and really think about what the hell you’ve made her go through. You let her enter a relationship with you under the pretense that you would some day become her boyfriend. The second you heard that word you became some kind of mega asshole and broke her heart.” Jaehyun goes to argue, but Haechan stops him with a hand held up, “I’m not done, dumb fuck. This apology, this little search for forgiveness to make yourself feel better doesn’t happen on your time. It will happen when and if she’s ready. You don’t get to keep cornering her and constantly fucking reminding her of the pain you’ve put her through.”

The group around them is silent, everyone listening and waiting with bated breath to hear what their suddenly-super-wise younger brother will say next, “if you choose to pull some kind of stupid shit like this on one of my best friends again, I pray that some higher power has some mercy on you, because I won’t stop beating the shit out of you until I feel like it, and I have a lot of anger I need to take out on you.”

“I’ve been there for the handful of phone calls where she cried herself to sleep, the nights where she screamed and cursed your name, and the days when finally, she started feeling better and had the strength to haul herself out of bed after you broke her heart. So yeah, I have a lot of anger toward you so if that means I whale on you for more than a day, then it happens,” Haechan shrugs as if he just said the most casual thing on the planet, “so get your head out of your ass. Stop being selfish and leave her the fuck alone.”

The group that stands on the sidewalk outside the Alpha Sig house is still and quiet, probably more than they ever have been. The weight of Haechan’s words sit heavily in the air between all of them. They know it’s true, they know Haechan is right. It’s just that none of them have had the strength to say anything because Jaehyun has been so clearly distraught after the break up. Even Jaehyun knows he needed to hear it. Haechan is right… Jaehyun hasn’t even considered if you want to see him. He’s only been acting on what he feels.

Doyoung clears his throat, breaking the silence with, “I just thought I’d let you guys know that the Alpha Sig guys aren’t going to report Jaehyun. I convinced them not to make a complaint to the dean when I reminded them how often they’re brothers have been thrown out for preying on people at our parties. You’re just banned from any Alpha Sig events for a lifetime.”

Jaehyun nods numbly, letting out a weak, “thanks, bro.” Fuck, he hadn’t even considered that he could have gotten thrown out of school or even thrown in jail! He just fucking assaulted someone! He acted on his anger and his instincts the second he saw that asshole’s hands and lips on you. 

He breaks down then, he falls to his knees with his shoulders shaking and his head in his hands. Everything is such a fucking mess! He hasn’t made any progress with you. In fact, he’s probably pushed you even further away from him. He’s basically failing all his classes because the only thing that can stay in his mind is you. You and how he hurt you and how good he had it and good he could have been having it now if he just hadn’t been a goddamn idiot! And now he just beat up one of his peers and could have been sent to jail, because once again, he acted without thinking properly!

His hands feel numb, a strange tingling sensation that spreads all the way up his fingers and into his brain as he pushes his palms against his eyelids. His shoulders shake with the force of his crying, deep, pained sobs escape his throat. He knows he has no one to blame but himself. It just hurts so damn bad. 

He recognizes Johnny’s cologne and when he pries his swollen, tear-filled eyes open he looks up to see his best friend holding him. It’s comforting, like the hug of an actual older brother. An overwhelming stench of sweat, alcohol, and strong cologne engulfs Jaehyun next. A group hug. He let’s out a watery laugh.

Johnny squeezes his shoulder, shaking him lightly, “everything is gonna work out, bro. You just gotta give it some time. Thanksgiving break is just a few days away, and a week at home will give you some time to clear your head.”

Jaehyun wipes his eyes, “you think so?”

“We know so. Just be patient, be forgiving to yourself. Be patient and let yourself process your emotions,” Taeyong adds with a gentle smile.

It’s a week until the end of the semester when Jaehyun sees you again. Two weeks since he last saw you. 9 weeks since everything went to shit. 

It’s finals week and Jaehyun has decided to refocus himself and get his grades up so he doesn't flunk out of school. He finds that his breath still hitches but his steps don’t falter like they did before. His instincts scream at him to go up to you and try to apologize again, but he doesn’t. He won’t admit that he’s genuinely scared of Haechan’s threat to beat his ass… but he is. It also helps that he got some very sage advice from his parents when he got home and poured his heart out to them. 

He sits in a chair, with his back to you as he pulls his laptop open. A half done study guide fills his screen and he finds himself smiling. A study guide, the library, you. This is how it all began. He doesn’t think he believed in signs before, but this has to be one. 

Nothing happens that day, but he finds that he’s finally alright with that. 

It’s the last night before Jaehyun leaves for winter break when there’s a knock on the door of his room. He’s in his room packing his bags to head home for the holidays. Johnny knocks on his open bedroom door, “hey bro, there’s uh- there’s someone here to see you.”

“Me?” Jaehyun asks, looking up from the clothes he’s been haphazardly stuffing in his duffel bag.

From behind Johnny, you step out and Jaehyun’s heart skips a beat. Your eyes flicker up from the hardwood floor to meet his and there’s that familiar click of just… universal correctness. You clear your throat, hands nervously fiddling in front of your body, “hey.”

“Hey,” he breathes out, the cotton in his hands dropping onto the mess of his bag.

Johnny backs away slowly, leaving the two of you alone.

It’s strange having you here in his room again. It’s not a bad strange, it feels right, but he also knows that this room holds a lot of memories for the two of you, not all of them good. The room where everything happened. The room where everything ended.

“How are you?” You ask slowly.

Jaehyun nods, a little too eagerly, “good, I’m good. You?”

“Same,” you breathe out awkwardly. The room is tense. You shake your head, before exhaling quickly, “look, I came because I don’t want to start the new year on bad terms with anybody. I owe you an apology, Jaehyun. I’m sorry I drudged up my insecurities and basically slut-shamed you again. I know we fixed it one time, so we shouldn't have had to do it twice. I was insecure and hurt I should have thought about what I said before I spoke. Even though things between us didn’t work out, I didn’t want either of us, especially you, to go into the new year thinking that I was ashamed of what you decided to do with your own body and your own time before we were even together.”

Jaehyun nods, he’s stunned. He doesn’t think you have anything to apologize for. “Th-thanks,” he stammers out.

You nod to yourself, “well, that’s all I had to say. Have a good break, Jaehyun.”

Before you turn to leave, Jaehyun’s voice comes out quietly, “can I get my apology out too, please? I’ve been needing to do this for over two months. You don’t have to accept it, you can say no, but I need to do this.”

Your eyes are wide, your body language tells him you’re clearly stunned, and nervous. Despite that, you nod, “yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, giving himself a mental pep talk before his eyes are on you again. Comfort floods his system and he begins  his apology that he’s been practicing for weeks now. “You deserve better than what I gave you. No girl deserves to go through how I treated you and how I spoke to you.”

You nod silently and he continues, “it’s not an excuse but I owe you an explanation. It’s no secret that I haven’t been in a committed relationship in a long time. It’s something that I guess I’ve forgotten how to handle. I’ve never been with anyone that made me want to be in anything committed until you. I’d been feeling nervous and insecure for months, but I didn’t know how to say that to you. I didn’t know how to tell you, the most amazing girl I’ve ever met, that I was scared that I wasn’t good enough for you. I got into my head about it, the thought had been plaguing me for weeks and the day everything went to shit… I just gave up. I didn’t try to say exactly what I was feeling and I let old habits take over. I didn’t mean anything I said and I hate that I said all of that. When it was happening I just felt like I was watching myself act like a dick and I couldn’t stop myself.”

He pauses, taking a beat to calm himself down before he starts to get anxious again, “I should have chased after you. I should have told you that it was alright for your friend to come party with us, but I was scared. I meant it when I said I haven’t been a boyfriend in a long time. I’ve been acting like the total opposite for most of my college experience. I’m the guy that girls warn their friends not to get attached to. I didn’t want that to be how we ended up. I wanted to be better for you. I still do. I should have given you time to process what happened instead of cornering you and forcing you to listen to my groveling and I sure as hell shouldn’t have resorted to violence when you weren’t doing anything wrong. Actually, I shouldn’t have resorted to violence at all.”

“I really miss who I was with you. I miss the way you made me feel. You made me feel giddy and warm and loved in a way I have never felt. What I feel for you isn’t some kind of puppy love like I felt for Hana. It’s real and I’ll be kicking my ass for the rest of my life for not telling you how I really feel. I love you and that is so fucking scary for me to admit because it’s never felt this strong or this real. I’m not saying this to try to sway you in my direction. I won’t blame you for moving on or leaving right now, but I owed you this apology. I’ve owed you this apology for months now. I’ll completely understand if you don't forgive me, I don’t think I would,” his shoulders drop, feeling an immense weight off of his shoulders, “that’s it. I’ll let you on your way now, I’ve stolen enough of your time.”

“How do you know?” He hears you ask and it’s then that he really looks at you, not just the spot over your head so he didn’t lose his train of thought. You have tears lining your eyes, shining in the overcast light that streams in through his blinds. 

He fights his every instinct to drop at your feet and comfort you. His brows pinch softly, “how do I know what?”

“How do you know that you love me?” Comes your reply, voice thick with emotion and followed by a sniffle. 

“Because no one makes me feel the way you do. Whether it’s good or bad, it’s invigorating. You’re on my mind with everything I do. I put extra effort in everything I do because I want to be better for you. Because your laugh has become my favorite sound, the color of your eyes is my favorite color, your shampoo is my favorite scent. Because my bed has felt lonely without you in it and my heart has a you shaped hole in it. When I picture my future, it’s you by my side in every single scenario that I imagine. I imagine myself cheering you on at graduation. I imagine us in our own apartment someday and I even think about stupid shit like you and I someday studying together again. You make loving seem like something less anxiety inducing like I once thought and instead make it something I regret ever fighting. Being in love with you is so damn easy because you’re the most lovely, lovable, loving person on the face of the planet and I have been lucky to discover this feeling with you.” 

You cover your mouth with your hand to suppress a sob, moving across the small space between the two of you to hug Jaehyun tightly. Your tears soak his sweats and he just holds you, letting you let out your emotions while he rubs a warm hand up and down your back. With a shuddering breath you pull away from his hold to look him in the eye, his thumbs swipe away the tears under your eyes as his hands move up to gently cup your face. “I accept your apology, Jaehyun. I…” you stop yourself, your eyes clearly reflecting the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling, “I was going to tell you that I loved you too that week when everything happened. For a week I convinced myself that I hated you but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I hated myself for still loving you even after everything you said. Love doesn’t go away easily.”

His heart soars. A life of pure joy escaping his lips as he fighting his arms around you and tuck his face into the crook of your neck, “holy shit, you mean it?”

He can feel you nod, “I do. I do mean it. But Jaehyun… I’m not going to give you a second chance if there’s any doubt in your mind about me or us. Be honest with me and tell me if you think there’s any chance that you think we won’t last.”

He meets your gaze, leaning in until his forehead meets your own. His voice is low but there’s not a shred of doubt in his voice, “I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up. I will regret it until the day I die, but I also know that I am yours, completely and utterly yours until you get tired of me. I will work every day, harder than the last to earn back your trust and not only tell you, but show you how much I love you and care for you.”

“I can’t do this again if we can’t commit to each other. I won’t put myself in that position again.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to put you in that position. I want you and you alone. Give me any title you want, boyfriend, husband, fiancé. If you want me to get down on one knee in the middle of the student union if you want me to. You could call me your son for all I care. I just don’t want you to have any sliver of doubt in your mind that I don’t want this, us, to work out. I want this for this long run. I want us to be like Noah and Ally in the old folks home and the only thing we remember is each other. I want you forever,” he tells you with a bright smile. 

You laugh and his heart skips a beat, “they die at the end Jae.”

“By the time we’re old, science will have discovered a way to get us to live forever and get us to work because every government are capitalistic machines. That’s beside the point— our love is going to last forever.” 

Your smile gentles, wariness still swims in the depths of your eyes, “you know, just because you confess that you love me and apologize doesn’t mean that you’re completely off the hook. Like I need you to understand that my trust has to be earned and you have to work for it.”

Jaehyun feels a wave of relief, “I absolutely understand you loud and clear. It’s clearer than crystal.”

“Don’t make me regret giving you a second chance,”  you whisper quietly, “please, don’t make me regret this, Jaehyun.”

“I promise. I swear. I swear on my own life, and if I let you down, then I’ll let Haechan go apeshit on me like he threatened,” Jaehyun’s thumbs gently rub at the fullness of your cheeks, “so please, will you please be mine officially? Will you be my girlfriend, please?”

“Yes. Yes, I will,” you smile up at him.

His lips are on yours in the blink of an eye. Jaehyun feels like he’s going to cry, hands gently clutching at the soft skin of your jaw as he kisses you with a tender passion. His lips move against your own in a way that just feels natural, like he was made to do it. It’s never felt like this with anyone else, he doesn’t need to try it with anyone else, because he knows this is what is right. 

He pulls back with his chest heaving, a smile on his face, “I think I owe you about a million more kisses to make up for lost time and to win your trust back.”

“We have time,” you reply with a sweet smile. Fuck, he’s missed seeing that smile up close.

“No, a million kisses today. I’ve already lost like 12 hours. Let’s stop talking.”

[honeyblackberries]

In the back seat (18+)

caleb x fem reader/mc smut

minors dni | inspired by diet pepsi by addison rae | cross-posted to ao3

word count: 1466

cw: simp caleb, soft dom caleb, he also likes to bite, pantie freak caleb, reader enables him, praise, oral (fem receiving), p in v, responsible car sex <333 (don't get freaky in a rental car irl), irresponsible intercourse (caleb doesn’t wrap it before he taps it), porn with feelings, porn no plot because idk how to write plot but i also can’t really write porn so maybe this is a secret third thing, no set pov.

names used: pips (pipsqueak but cuter), good girl, pretty girl, my girl

If Caleb is being honest with himself this moment is something straight out of his teenage fantasies. Driving along the coast with you in the passenger's seat, listening as you sing along to a song that’s been on repeat for the past half hour. Hair softly blowing in the wind as the late afternoon sun glows behind you like a halo.

You’re an angel he thinks, how else could you bless him with such a gift on one of his rare days off. The keys to his dream car—with the disclaimer that it was only a rental during his visit to Linkon—and that short sundress… His gaze unconsciously drifts from the road and onto you.

Maybe wet dreams are a better description for this. The way the hem of your dress rides up your thighs while you shift to find a more comfortable position, cotton panties peeking out underneath it.

Your eyes meet his and Caleb feels his pants tighten.

Today was supposed to be a well deserved break from all the demands that come with being the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel. Something relaxing. Yet he can’t help but feel inclined to the complete opposite. Back ramrod straight and hand, previously loose and confident on the wheel, now gripping it so tight that his knuckles strain.

“I'm happy you’re here,” you say sweetly and he has to stop himself from acting like a horny dog. “Is there anything you wanna do before we head home?”

“Eat you out,” he thinks dreamily.

“..What?”

Shit. Shit. How could he say that out loud!? He’s an idiot, a depraved fool—

“Well, okay.”

He almost crashes the car.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to—I mean—I didn’t mean to say it out loud,” you laugh at him and he isn’t sure whether to be mortified or turned on.

“Pull over.” He does.

Caleb doesn’t realise it but despite the less than innocent circumstances his silly reaction makes you smile. Happy at the expression that settles on his handsome face. How his eyes light up in a way you never really see anymore, giddy and unrestrained.

‘Cute,’ you want to tease, but he’s already rolling the tinted windows up. Undoing his seatbelt and moving into the back seat. Oh how could you keep him waiting when he’s just so eager? You undo your own seatbelt and amusedly follow along. Moving to get on top of him.

“Don’t hover pips,” he instructs—in that know-it-all voice he’s used since you were kids—and you don’t get the chance to consider it. Not when his hands trail under your skirt to grab your thighs and impatiently bring you down onto his face.

“Fuck you smell so good,” his nose presses right against your clothed heat. He inhales deeply. “I could get off just from smelling you, just from smelling these,” his lips part to let teeth graze the thin fabric of your panties.

“I can keep 'em when we're done, yeah?” His hot breath makes a shiver run through you in anticipation. His tongue licks down the centre where a wet patch starts to form. “I’ll cook dinner in return.”

You want to argue that he always cooks dinner. But you want what he’s currently offering more.

Your small hum of agreement is all he needs.

Safe to say, Caleb does mouth at you like a dog. Desperate, hungry, tongue heavy and slobbering. You have to push yourself against his chest to keep steady. The toned muscles there flexing as he eats like he’s been starved.

“Good girl, sittin’ so pretty for me,” his praise is barely understandable. Voice muffled and lower than a moment ago.

One of his hands leaves your thighs, his fingers moving to the fabric separating you. He teasingly pulls it back and lets go, a light snap against your skin. You flinch and he chuckles in response. He then pushes it to the side to expose you bare to him. Continuing to lick, this time with the addition of his thumb rubbing directly against your sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he moans at the taste and sucks at your clit for more.

You’re not sure how long you last before everything crashes down all at once. Your orgasm racking your body and leaving you trembling. Dripping right into his open mouth.

The way your breath hitches and small whines you make when you cum always remind him how he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs. Forever wanting you pliant in his hold like this.

As you start to feel yourself coming down from the high, Caleb lightly bites at your tender flesh, making you yelp. He places a soft kiss in apology, even though you both know he isn’t sorry in the slightest.

In an act of revenge you start to reach for where he needs it. Fingertips barely brushing the large tent in his pants before he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Next time pips, I’ll go crazy if I’m not inside you soon.” At that you’re suddenly flipped around, back pressed against the leather seat. Wedged in the cramped space afforded to you between the car and his large body.

Caleb looks down at you with a wide grin. The lower half of his face damp with your arousal and his own saliva.

“Let me put it in?”

Even when he’s like this the words come out as a question. He’ll only do it if you let him, only if you want it half as much as he does. His silver necklace dangles in front of you and reflected in it is your lips, curled up into an affirmative.

Caleb wastes no time. Hurriedly undoing his pants and freeing his hard leaking cock. Leaning over you with one hand beside your head as the other grasps his reddened tip and nudges you panties to the side with it. Lining himself up he sinks into you slowly.

“You’re heaven,” he yaps, already pussy drunk. "You feel like heaven, ugh—like you were made for me. Weren’t you?”

He shakes his head at his own words, as if a better explanation came to him. Then he resolutely bottoms out inside you.

“No, I was the one made for you.”

“Caleb—” you whine at the feeling of being so full. Arms moving to wrap around his torso, not sure if to hold him closer or push him away.

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to fight off the orgasm that would have had him cumming from the way you say his name. Testingly, he pulls out slightly just to push back in. Repeating shallow thrusts to get you comfortable.

“More,” you beg.

“Of course,” he kisses you and you can taste yourself on him. “I aim to please.” His pace quickens, becoming rough. You can’t help but clench at the immediate change.

“Oh shit—loosen up pretty girl.” You try to.

Over and over you feel his cock try to make your cunt give in to him, and when he feels the grip of your walls ease up slightly he angles his hips to hit deeper.

You claw at his back, the fabric of his shirt catching under your fingers. The feeling of him too much.

“You like that huh?”

The car windows are fogging at the spike in body heat, neither of you letting up until you both get your fill. The sounds of shallow breathing and skin against skin the only thing that can be heard.

Caleb bites your lip when he kisses you in between thrusts. Like he wants to devour you in every way possible.

“I’m—close,” you bury your face into his neck, trying to ground yourself.

He nearly slips entirely out of you. Hips starting to lose their rhythm, a sign that he is too.

“I know—fuck—cum with me.”

Your release comes first, and he doesn’t last long after.

“That's my girl.”

His movements slow as he spills into you. A white ring forming around the base of him as a mix of both your cum tries to leak out. He grinds a few times to make sure it stays then collapses on top of you.

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, relishing in the feeling of your chests pressed together as you cool down. Caleb’s cock slowly going limp inside you.

His hands move to cradle your face, gently stroking your cheeks as he kisses all over with cherishing lightness.

“I love you.”

“Love you too Caleb.”

Then he has to go and ruin the moment.

“Panties please,” he holds out his hand. Asking for a treat.

You sigh, the post-nut clarity kicking in. “I’ll give it to you after I wash it.”

“Don’t wash it.”

“...”

a/n: rip need everyone to know this was initially supposed to be a sylus fic. also what do we think do we like me actually trying to make the layout nice/not write in all lowercase??

[trashytracktales]

My love….i need some ANGST. Like make me cry….then make me wet 😱😅

IM SORRY ITS BEEN ONR OF THOSE DAYS and your posts always make the day better.

Final call | LN⁴

📞 summary ──── Lando thought that ending things was the right decision. But he never really let go. When one final, desperate call pulls her back into his orbit, old wounds resurface, anger and longing collide, and the lines between love and heartbreak blur.

📞 pairing ──── Lando Norris x (she/her) ex!reader

📞 rating ──── explicit

📞 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, mentions of drinking, Lando struggling with withdrawals from his usual life, drunken texts, heavy angst and arguments, swearing, heartbreak, power struggles between both characters, smut, fingering with teasing and edging, unprotected sex, praise, desperation, overwhelming pleasure leading to emotional vulnerability, begging, multiple orgasms, post-sex tenderness, crying (I need to touch some grass fr fr).

📞 word count ──── 12.8k

📞 date ──── Mar. 30, 2025

📞 a/n ──── Been working on this for over a month now. It feels like a fever dream, I have no words. Enjoy whatever this is and I apologize in advance 🤧

IT IS A random Saturday night during the winter break, and Lando would rather stay home. But he’s spent the last two months buried in the same routine; rinse and repeat. It’s been easier that way, keeping himself too busy to think, and too exhausted to feel anything else.

This time around, his friends have been quite insistent, pushing him to get out of his self-imposed isolation.

“Come on, mate,” said Max, his frustration evident in every word he uttered, even through the speaker, “One night won’t kill you. Everyone is expecting you to be there.”

“Why would they?” asked Lando, not particularly interested in Max’s answer.

“Because I told them you’ll come. Now, don’t make me a liar, and get your athletic physique up. I’ll get to yours in five.”

Lando tried to argue at first, but Max wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, eventually, after what felt like ages of back-and-forth, he caved, mostly out of morbid curiosity.

Now, standing in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by laughter and music, he wonders why he agreed, after all. When he’s not in the mood to party or to be around people in general, everything is suddenly way too loud, too annoying, and nothing satisfies him. The air is thick with a weird combination between spilled liquor and various perfumes, adding to his irritation.

Avoiding to make a scene, Lando shifts awkwardly, nursing a drink, half-listening to whatever story Connor is animatedly telling. He feels bad when he realizes that he hasn’t seen most of his friends since the breakup, but he knows they’ve only been giving him the space he needed, waiting for him to bounce back.

But Lando hasn’t. He’s just gotten better at pretending things are going the right way. Fake it until you make it, or whatever.

“Landooo,” Max says suddenly, nudging him out of his thoughts. “Look who I ran into!”

Lando turns and his eyes lock on her, her alluring presence catching him off guard.

“This is Eva,” Max continues, “An old friend of mine.”

He can’t help but think how effortlessly beautiful she is, all bright eyes and easy smiles, with the kind of confidence that makes people gravitate toward her instinctively.

“Hey,” the girl says, offering him a playful smirk. “I was starting to think you were just a figment of Max’s imagination.”

Lando forces a chuckle. “Yeah, well. I haven’t been… around much.”

Eva tilts her head, taking him in. “That’s a vague answer.”

Max claps a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “He’s just being mysterious. It’s part of his charm, you’ll see.”

Lando rolls his eyes, but plays along. He knows what Max is doing, but he doesn’t call him out on it.

Because maybe Max is right. Maybe he should try.

And so he does.

He engages in conversation, letting himself slip into the rhythm of it. Eva is funny and easy to talk to. She makes it effortless, steering their interaction in a way that keeps his mind from wandering. As the night progresses, they end up dancing, and hands are suddenly everywhere while the music envelops them like a protective dome.

At some point, he offers to buy her another drink, and she smiles, nodding at Lando’s initiative.

“I’d like that,” she admits, her eyes sparkling under her eyelashes.

They weave through the crowd toward the bar, and as they wait, she leans in a little closer. It’s subtle at first — a touch to his shoulder when she laughs, then her fingers grazing his bicep. Lando notices it, but he doesn’t react. Not until he feels her fingertips brush against his hand. At that, he looks down and sees the way her small hand lingers against his, making his chest tighten.

She’s watching him with anticipation in her expression, waiting for him to do something. Anything. To respond, to take her hand in his, to let this moment be what it’s supposed to be.

Lando closes his eyes for a fraction. Then he pulls his hand away. Eva’s face doesn’t fall, but something shifts in her eyes; the spark goes away, being replaced by something Lando can’t quite decipher. Confusion, perhaps? Understanding, maybe? Pity, for sure.

She nods, taking a step back, putting distance between them. “Right,” her voice is light, but unbothered. “Cheers for the drink, Lando. I should get back to my friends.”

Lando swallows, guilt gnawing at him. “Eva, it’s not that I don’t—”

She stops him with a tiny smile hanging in the corner of her mouth. “Don’t have to explain yourself to me, darling. It was fun meeting you, hope to see you around. Have a nice night.”

And with that, she’s gone.

He watches her disappear into the crowd, debating going after her or scanning the place to find someone else.

Finally, Lando turns back to the bar, giving his head a little shake.

Well, that went well.

He downs the rest of his drink in one go and signals for another. The liquid burns his throat, but it’s still not enough. He needs more, now that he’s alone. Just for tonight.

As Max said, it won’t kill him.

A few minutes later, Lando returns to his people with another drink in hand. He looks much more relaxed, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s still there, somewhere, lost among the lonely nights spent in his apartment, buried under the lies he told his friends just to be left alone.

Max spots him first and frowns, “Mate, where’s Eva?”

Lando shrugs, “I think she didn’t like my bucket hat.”

Max squints in his direction, clearly unimpressed. “You didn’t even try, did you?”

He did, but won’t bother explaining that to Max. It’s not the time nor the place and, taking a slow sip of his new drink, Lando doesn’t answer, ending the conversation there.

HIS PLACE IS drenched in darkness, exactly how he left it, when Lando stumbles in. He kicks off his shoes haphazardly, muttering a curse as one skids across the floor.

So, Max’s plan hadn’t helped; nothing ever does. He had laughed at all the right moments, sipped at overpriced drinks, and told himself he was having fun. But the ride home had been silent, his thoughts crashing against him like a lost boat against the waves in the middle of a storm.

His friend offered to stay over, but didn’t insist when Lando told him he was okay; two months of pretending he was.

Two months of convincing himself he made the right choice, that he needed space to figure out who he was outside of them. He told himself he needed to be alone and focus on his work, because the aftertaste of the last season still lingers. He wants to see his dream manifesting before his eyes, and he knows that comes with a set of sacrifices. He is ready, but how far is he willing to go? What else is he willing to give up?

Because all he’s done in her absence is slowly descending into madness.

With a defeated sigh, Lando collapses onto the couch. His head falls back against the cushions, just as his phone starts buzzing into his pocket. He doesn’t need to check it to know it isn’t her. She hasn’t reached out since the day she walked away, her face crumpling in defeat as she whispered, I can’t keep fighting for something you clearly don’t want.

The memory of her face still haunts him, because he knows now, just as he knew then, that he should have fought harder. He wishes he had at least tried. Although he also knows it wouldn’t have been fair to either of them, because the mental state he was in at the time would’ve made everything worse for both of them.

Without thinking too much of it, his thumb finds her little icon, and before he can stop himself, Lando starts typing.

10:24 PM: Hey, you up?

10:24 PM: Sorry.

10:26 PM: Can we talk?

10:30 PM: You ever think about us?

10:35 PM: Forget I said anything.

10:39 PM: No, actually, don’t. You were everything. You ARE everything.

10:39 PM: I may be a little bit drunk, but I fucking miss you, baby…

10:41 PM: I don’t miss you because I’m drunk BTW. I just miss you.

10:41 PM: All the time.

10:45 PM: Was I ever enough for you? Like, in general… do you think we could’ve made it work?

10:47 PM: God, I hate you for making me question myself like this.

10:58 PM: I don’t hate you. I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you.

11:59 PM: Remember when we went to Lake Como and got lost trying to find that little café? I think about that all the time. It started raining, and we both got sick, then we stayed in bed for a week.

11:08 PM: Are you happy?

11:10 PM: Please, say something.

11:10 PM: I know I ended this, but don’t ignore me.

11:10 PM: Please…

On the other side of the city, she’s sitting across from a man who could be plucked from a brochure for Monaco’s elite. His posture oozes confidence and he’s immaculate, from the tailored suit to his charm that has her smiling politely but distantly. He’s nothing like Lando, and she noticed that from the first date. That’s the reason why she agreed to go out again. And again.

Now, she’s four dates in, and she tries to convince herself she could get used to seeing this man as something more. But it’s not that easy when all he talks about is crypto currency and boats.

Suddenly, her phone starts buzzing, a succession of vibrations that she tries to ignore at first.

Once.

Twice.

Three-four-five-six-seven times.

When it keeps going, she excuses herself to glance at the screen, and her stomach twists as she sees his name. What freaks her out at first is that only now she realizes that she never changed his contact name, and LANDO ♥︎ now occupies both the entire size of her screen and her entire mind.

“Is everything okay?” her date asks, his voice cutting through her haze.

She blinks, confused, “I’m sorry, yeah,” she says, a wave of heat crawling up her chest and neck. “I forgot to put it on silent.”

A deep ache settles in between her lungs as she touches the icon to silent her phone. She wishes she could do that to her brain right now, because all of a sudden, her entire world starts spinning faster.

It’s the first time he’s reached out since he ended things. For her, this is monumental. But she shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t even be tempted to read whatever nonsense he keeps typing out. But then another message comes through, begging her not to ignore him, and something about the desperation in the rapid notifications makes her break.

“Excuse me,” the girl says quickly, pushing her chair back as she gets up, ready to head towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

Somehow, she knew the quiet won’t last forever, but she kept hoping that Lando was happy, even without her. She hated him for a few hours after he broke up with her, but all the hatred faded away the next morning, when she woke up in an empty bed, trying her best to understand his decision.

She did, eventually. And she accepted it. More than that, she respected it, because she knew that Lando would do the same for her.

Rage.

She put in so much work, and now it’s all for nothing.

She exhales heavily, gripping the edge of the sink before finally, finally unlocking her phone, not so surprised to see more texts flooding the screen.

11:12 PM: I just wanna talk, I swear.

11:12 PM: Can I call you?

11:12 PM: Just once, please.

11:13 PM: I miss your voice.

Her heart breaks a little, but before she can overthink it, she presses that call button herself, and Lando picks up on the first ring. There’s silence at first. Nothing but his uneven breathing and the faint hum of the muted background noise.

Then, she hears his voice, rough and slightly slurred, “You called.”

She closes her eyes, trying her best to control her trembling hands. “Only to tell you to stop texting me, Lando. I am busy.”

A pause. Then a slow, shaky inhale, followed by Lando’s curiosity, “It’s almost midnight on a Saturday night, how busy are—” he stops himself as if realizing something obvious, his next words dripping in disappointment, “Oh, you’re busy,” he continues, but this time his voice changes to nonchalance. “What am I interrupting?”

She presses her lips in a thin line, bringing her fingers to her temple. “None of—”

“Are you with someone?”

Her throat tightens. “None of your business,” she finally manages to say.

His heavy breath crackles through the speaker. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She doesn’t confirm it. Doesn’t deny it. Just exhales slowly, wishing she would disintegrate into thin air before the conversation gets to an end.

To break her silence, Lando makes a noise, something caught between a bitter laugh and a sigh. “How boring is he? Be honest.”

The girl blinks, letting out a dry laugh. “Excuse me?”

“The guy you’re with,” says Lando, “How boring is he? Does he talk about taxes and golf? I bet he fucking sucks at golf.”

“Lando, how drunk—”

“Does he make you laugh?” his voice drops, softer now, but unsure. “Like I used to? God, I miss your laugh.”

She grips the sink tighter, warning him, “Stop that.”

Silence.

Then, in true Lando fashion, he blurts out something completely ridiculous, “And I miss you.”

Her stomach flips. Painfully.

He shouldn’t have this right. He broke up with her. He was the one who argued in detail why they should break up and stay that way. Him. But hearing his voice again, after all this time, she realizes how easy it is to fall back into it. Into everything they had.

“I do,” Lando insists, “I really fucking miss you, baby. Do you miss me?”

The words hit like a sucker punch.

Yes.

She bites her lip, willing herself not to break. “No,” she ends up saying.

“No,” he echoes. And for once, he sounds completely sober.

She swallows hard, forcing her voice to stay steady as she repeats, “I am busy. Goodbye, Lando.”

And before he can say anything else, before she lets herself feel too much and tell him the truth, she hangs up. With a heavy heart, she presses the phone against her chest, eyes shut, trying to breathe through the emotions crashing over her.

Breaking up with someone when you still love them is like throwing yourself into a bottomless pit. You don’t know when or if the fall will ever end, you have no idea whether or not you’ll be alone on the other side if it does end, and you certainly don’t know if you’ll make it there alive. They had their problems, of course. Everybody does. But for the first time in their relationship, Lando’s goals didn’t include her, and she had to make peace with it.

Inhaling deeply, she looks back at her reflection then she steels herself, smoothing her dress, and wiping at the corners of her eyes.

THE SECOND SHE hangs up, her words brand themselves into his brain, and for a while, he’s terrified that he’ll go mad, because they won’t stop replaying in his head like a broken record.

Goodbye, Lando. Goodbye, Lando. Goodbye, Lando.

Goodbye.

The finality of it slams into him, sucking the air from his lungs, and all the light from his eyes.

He can’t do anything but stand there, phone still pressed to his ear, as if maybe she’ll change her mind and call back. As if this is just a silly test, some cruel joke played by the universe to see how much more he can take before he completely breaks.

To his horror, the line stays dead, and the realization settles in too quickly for him to process, a dull ache spreading through his chest like poison ivy.

She didn’t even hesitate, didn’t soften, didn’t give him anything to hold onto. And maybe it’s better this way, but how easy is it to close the door on someone like that?

For the past two months, he told himself that if he ever needed her — really needed her — she’d be there for him. Because he knows her, and he knows that no matter how much time passed, no matter how many miles stretched between them, she’d still be his person.

But now, the truth is staring Lando in the face. And it looks like him. She’s gone for good, and he has no one to blame but himself.

His jaw clenches, his hold tightening around the phone so hard he might break it. The room feels too big, too empty, too goddamn quiet to the point it gets too much. With an angry exhale, Lando hurls his phone across the room, watching it smashing against the wall before clattering to the floor, the sound slicing through his ears like a gunshot.

With a deep sigh, he drags his hands down his face, fingers digging into his skin as if he can claw the frustration out of his body.

What did you expect? he asks himself. Then, he laughs. A dry laugh, deprived of real amusement.

At that time, space was what he needed, but she was never something Lando needed to escape. She was his anchor. His safe place. And now, she’s out with some other guy, probably smiling in that adorable way she does when she’s trying to be polite but isn’t actually interested.

Or maybe she is interested. Maybe she is moving on.

The thought nearly guts him.

Pushed by fear from behind, Lando forces himself to move, pacing the the living room while he runs a hand through his hair, irritation simmering beneath his skin like an annoying itch he can’t scratch. His heart is racing, thoughts spiraling faster than he can control. The only time he felt like this before was when his car slipped from his grasp back in 2021 at Spa. He knew he had to brace for impact, and knew his time was limited to do so. The difference now is that he can’t even brace himself, because the impact already took him by surprise.

This can’t be it.

After a moment, he crosses the room and picks up his phone. It has a little crack across the screen, but it’s still functional and, in his foolishness, he takes it as a sign to start typing again.

11:59 PM: Fuck your goodbye. You’re really just going to pretend like I don’t exist?

11:59 PM: After everything?

12:01 AM: Such a fucking liar.

12:01 AM: You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything. That you don’t miss me at all.

12:04 AM: I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you, alright? But I swear to god, I never stopped caring about you.

12:04 AM: Not for a second.

12:07 AM: It’s so stupid, but tell me to move on, and I will.

12:08 AM: Tell me you don’t love me anymore, and I’ll leave you alone.

12:48 AM: Please, don’t leave me like this…

12:48 AM: We can find a way, I know we can.

12:53 AM: No one will ever know you like I do, you know that, right?

12:53 AM: He doesn’t know how you hum when you’re nervous or how you always steal the blanket in your sleep, does he?

01:23 AM: Got it.

01:23 AM: If you ever meant what we promised, just know that this is my final call.

The moment he sends the last text, Lando knows he’s got only one chance to make it right. And maybe he took it too far this time, but he’s also at peace, knowing he did everything he could to catch her attention.

Their worst fight ever, before breaking up, nearly ended them right there and then. They were on the verge of walking away, but when all the anger settled and the silence stretched between them, they both realized neither wanted to lose the other. So, they needed a way to say it. A final chance to make things right.

A final call.

A desperate ‘I need you’. No games, no pretending. If one of them said it, the other showed up, no questions asked.

But the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into his darkest hour.

HER KNUCKLES ALMOST leave marks against Lando’s door from how aggressively she’s knocking. She is relentless, angry, and insistent, like she wants to break through it at all costs.

Behind the door, Lando frowns, pushing himself off the couch where he’d been slumped, after the realization hit him. But when he swings it open, his heart nearly flatlines.

She’s standing there, chest heaving and eyes wild with fury, with her tears still fresh on her face. Before he can say a word, she pushes him hard, forcing him a step back as she storms inside. The door slams shut behind her, the sound ringing through the silence of his empty apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Lando?” her voice cracks, her chin trembling under the weight of her furious words. “Are you actually serious?”

Lando barely has time to react before she shoves him again, her palms pressing into his chest with all the force her adrenaline generates.

He stumbles back, blinking at her in shock.

“You’re such a coward!” she yells, “This is so unfair, you know?” her voice wavers, but her anger doesn’t falter. “You have no right to do this to me. None.”

Lando swallows hard, his mind scrambling to catch up. But too much is happening too quickly, and he doesn’t get the chance, before she interrupts him right when he’s about to speak.

“No. You’ve said enough, now I’m talking,” her breath is ragged while pointing a finger at her chest, her whole body shaking with rage as she glares up at him. “You don’t get to pull me in just to push me away. Again and again. You don’t get to decide when you love me and when you need space. And you sure as hell don’t get to use your last call just to make me drop everything for you. Because of course I will, and you know it!” she says, laughing at herself in disbelief. “That’s so fucking selfish, especially when I know you don’t even mean it, and you’re just too fucking pressed that I’m moving on without you.”

His stomach twists. “I do mean it.”

“Oh, really? Then why do you do this?” she asks, her voice breaking as she shoves him again, weaker this time. “Why? One second, you’re in love with me, and the next, you want to be left alone. And now you’re dragging me back in like I don’t have a choice, like I don’t have a life outside of you.”

Lando flinches, guilt settling deep in his bones. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“You don’t know what you want,” she accuses, her voice trembling in frustration. “Because if you did, you’d know how ridiculous you’re being right now. You can’t do this to people who love you, Lando. You can’t just… fuck with my peace like this just because you’ve had a rough night. I’ve had plenty of those myself!” she loses it, turning around only to take a break from seeing his face.

Her words hit Lando like a freight train, but she doesn’t even realize what she’s just said. She’s too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, too exhausted from holding herself together. But Lando heard her loud and clear: she still loves him.

He takes a step toward her, thinking that she’s done with pushing, but when she suddenly turns around, she starts hitting his chest again, enough to pour out all the anger, all the irritation, and all the heartbreak she’s been carrying like rocks in her pockets.

Lando just stands there, letting her, because he knows he deserves it.

Finally, she lets out a shaky breath, her hands falling limply against him. Her forehead presses into his chest as the fight drains from her completely, and a sob wracks through her. Instinctively, Lando’s arms move on their own, pulling her into his tight embrace.

He wraps himself around her, his grip firm but careful, like she might slip through his fingers if he’s not careful. Her tears soak into his shirt, and for the first time in months, the floor stopped moving under his feet, and Lando can breathe again.

They stay like that for a long time. No more words. No more yelling. Just the sound of their breathing, and their hearts beating in sync. Lando’s hand is gently moving up and down her back, and she hates how safe she feels with his scent enveloping her from every direction.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, she sniffles and pulls away just enough to wipe her cheeks.

Her fingers brush lightly against his damp shirt, letting out out a humorless laugh. “I probably ruined your stupid shirt. There’s make-up all over. Sorry.”

Lando shakes his head, his hands still resting on her waist. “That’s okay.”

She scoffs, stepping back to free herself from his embrace. Next time she looks up at him, her eyes are still glassy, but there’s something softer in them now. Then, quietly, she says, “He was boring, by the way.”

She walks past him without another word, heading straight for the couch, just like she did a thousand times before.

Lando turns to follow her, his mind slowly starting to catch up.

She’s here.

She came.

He hesitates for a moment before he enters her personal space again, watching as she sinks into the couch, exhaling silently as if she’s trying to steady herself. She rubs the mascara smudges beneath her eyes, and the sight twists something deep in his chest, realizing that he did this to her. Again. And he hates it. Hates knowing that he’s the reason she looks so lost, with puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Hates that she showed up at his door furious, but now she just looks tired. Most likely of him. Of their situation. Of running in circles that he’s designing with the sole purpose of torturing her.

Still, as Lando lowers himself onto the couch beside her, a strange sense of normalcy settles over him. They’ve sat like this countless times before, curled up together watching movies, falling asleep tangled in each other, making love, and sharing lazy conversations over takeout. He can still picture her lying here in one of his hoodies, laughing at some stupid joke he made, eyes bright and full of adoration. But tonight, the space between them is foreign, like a chasm neither of them knows how to cross.

He exhales, raking a hand through his curls. At least, her words sobered him up, his thoughts clearer than they’ve been in months.

“I met someone tonight,” Lando’s voice cuts through the silence.

Her heart drops in her stomach, but she turns her head to look at him. Her expression is unreadable, however, Lando can see the way her fingers tighten on her thighs, like she’s bracing herself.

He swallows. “If you need a reason why, this is it. Max introduced me to her,” his tone is quieter now, a bit uncertain. “I think he was trying to… I don’t know. Set me up, maybe.”

She nods once, a short, clipped motion. “And?”

“I tried,” he admits. “I really did. She was nice. We had a few drinks together.” Lando huffs out something that’s almost a laugh but lacks any real amusement. “I even thought that maybe it could work out. I hoped it would work out.”

She doesn’t say anything, but looks at him with empty eyes and dry lips.

Lando sighs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “But then she tried to hold my hand and…”

A beat of silence.

Another deep sigh.

He lifts his head just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye before continuing, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend,” he adds, voice faint, like the confession is physically weighing on him. “It felt so wrong.”

She turns her face away, staring at the opposite wall, her jaw clenched. She understands him, of course she does. Because that’s exactly what she was doing before her phone was flooded with his texts — pretending. Faking it. Settling for something that, deep down, was so utterly wrong.

Lando shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

He watches her profile, trying his best to understand what’s going on inside her head, what she’s thinking, and if she’s warring with her own heart, just like he did for the past two months.

Finally, Lando leans back against the couch. His fingers drum restlessly against his knee when he starts speaking again, “Do you like him?”

She stiffens. “What?”

“The guy you were with tonight,” he says, studying her closely. “Do you like him?”

The girl rolls her eyes, pressing her lips together. “You are so incredibly stupid, Lando.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “I still want to hear you saying it.”

She hesitates, “I don’t know. He’s nice.”

It’s Lando’s turn to roll his eyes now, “Nice.”

She gives him a sharp look. “Yeah, nice. Like the girl you met? What is wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he mutters. But when she keeps staring, he forces himself to continue, picking at the lint on his pants, only to avoid her piercing eyes. “It’s just… you never went for nice.”

Her expression flickers between annoyance and something else he can’t quite name.

“You don’t know me like that anymore,” she warns him.

Lando lets out a quiet breath, “People don’t change that easily,” he says it like he talks from experience. “I’d still be able to recognize you blindfolded.”

His words almost knock the wind out of her. She tilts her chin up, trying to hold onto her anger, but it’s slipping through her fingers like sand. Especially when he speaks so soflty, no bitter trace behind his voice. It’s just a fact.

“I don’t know about that,” she whispers.

“I do,” he says, getting closer to her side of the couch.

She takes a breath in, exhaling slowly. “You walked away, Lando. It was your choice. What changed?”

Instead of looking back at her, Lando’s picking now at the skin of his thumb with his nail, until he feels the blood under his fingertip. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“For who exactly?”

His chest tightens. “It was for you too,” he says in a defensive tone. “I couldn’t be what you needed. It took me years to finally be competitive, and I barely had time to breathe outside work, let alone be someone you could rely on. There was so much noise around me, I just couldn’t put you in second.”

She shakes her head, her expression caught between irritation and heartbreak. “You didn’t have to change anything for my comfort. I know what racing means to you. Knowing you were there was enough for me.”

He swallows, guilt pressing heavy against his ribs. “Not enough. I didn’t want to drag you down.”

Her lips part, a flash of disbelief crossing her face. “Do you even hear yourself?” she gestures wildly, “You were never dragging me down. I was so happy for you, Lando. Still am,” she blinks rapidly, trying to push down the emotion rising in her throat. “But you decided I was an inconvenience.”

Lando closes his eyes briefly, his fingers curling into fists. He knows she’s right. He knows. But back then, he had convinced himself that letting her go was the only way to keep her from ending up hating him. Now, she’s standing next to him, looking at him like she doesn’t know whether she wants to scream or sob.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all he can say. And then, “I just... missed you.”

Out of instinct, she makes herself smaller on the couch, raising her knees to her chest.

“I tried to act like I didn’t, but I was miserable,” Lando adds, “Everywhere I went, I was looking for you. Waiting for you.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head again. “Spare me, won’t you?”

“I’m not saying this to change your mind,” he defends himself quickly. “I just need you to know. Because it was eating me alive.”

Her arms loosen around herself, her posture softening just a fraction. “Do you think I wasn’t miserable too?” her voice cracks on the last word. “You said I was pretending you didn’t exist. Do you really think I just walked away and simply forgot about you?”

Lando stares at her, taking in the way her lower lip trembles, the way her eyes are shining with new, unshed tears.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Stupid, stupid,” she repeats.

She’s still mad at him. But she aches to be closer, to touch him, to bury her face in his chest and just breathe him in. Just for a moment. Just long enough to pretend that everything is okay again.

Cautious, Lando lifts a hand like he’s giving her time to pull away. But when she doesn’t, his fingers brush against her hair, gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His touch is light, barely there, but it still gives her chills. Then, without thinking too much of it, she leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

A tear slips down her cheek, and before she can wipe it away, Lando’s thumb does.

“I’m sorry.”

She lets out a quiet sob, and that’s all it takes for Lando to pull her into his arms without hesitation. She melts against him, fists gripping the fabric of his shirt, pressing her face back against his chest as she lets more tears out.

Lando buries his face in her hair, whispering all over again, as if that will make her believe him, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Tears are threatening his eyes too, but he closes them before they can escape.

He feels the warmth of her breath against his collarbone and, once again, he’s terrified. He would rather her push him away, rather her scream at him, tell him she hates him, hurt him back. Because all this silence is unbearable. It swallows him whole, and tells him everything he’s too afraid to admit: that he drained her, emptied her out until there was nothing left to give.

He’s about to apologize again, but then he feels it in the way her fingers, still curled into the fabric of his shirt, twitch slightly, and the weight of her head is pressing deeper into his chest — she fell asleep. As soon as things went quiet, she slipped under, exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with the time of night and everything to do with him.

A lump forms in his throat as he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. He shifts carefully, moving just enough to lean back fully, making sure she’s as comfortable as possible. But unfortunately, sleep doesn’t come easy for him.

HER PALM RESTS against his cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into hers. Every exhale of hers tickles his jaw, and it feels like muscle memory, the way her body molds into his, the way he instinctively holds onto her even in sleep.

Lando doesn’t stir. He never does. He’s always been the type to sleep through anything — alarms, thunderstorms, and morning light flooding the room. Even now, he’s dead to the world, his lips slightly parted, his arm wrapped lazily around her waist.

But his phone vibrates on the coffee table, and that’s what wakes her up, the sound cutting through the stillness. She barely registers it at first, burying her face against his chest, but when it buzzes again and again, she groans softly.

Disoriented, her breath deepens as she takes in her surroundings: the familiar scent, the heavy weight of Lando’s arm, the warmth of his body against hers. And then, all of it crashes down on her. Last night. Every whispered apology, every push, every tear, every way she let herself slip back into him like she never left.

Suddenly, a wave of panic wakes her up for good and, covering her mouth with a trembling hand, she tries to muffle the sob that threatens to escape. She can’t cry again; she’s way too exhausted for that. But her body betrays her, stiffening next to him as his weight becomes suffocating.

Luckily, the continuous buzzing takes her out of it and, reluctantly, she finally reaches for Lando’s phone. The screen lights up with a crack across it, and lots of notifications. It’s 1:04 PM, and a text from an unsaved number catches her attention first:

Hey, Lando ;) This is Eva. Max gave me your number, said you weren’t feeling well last night. I’d like to see you again tonight if...

The rest of the message is cut off by the lock screen, so she lets the phone drop back against the glass of the table, swallowing past the tightness in her throat and slowly turns onto her side, facing him. Lando looks so peaceful like this. His curls are messy, his face slack with sleep, no frown decorating the smooth skin of his forehead. His eyebrows are a little fuzzy, so she gently styles them back into shape with her thumb.

She missed their lazy mornings more than anything. The way the concept of time never seemed to exist when they were wrapped up in each other, away from anything that could potentially come in between them.

Her hand is still weak as she presses her palm to Lando’s chest. His heartbeat thrums beneath her fingertips, steady, warm, alive. That’s why she came here in the first place: for him. And in the clear daylight, she realizes that the familiarity between them can’t be reversed. Last night was a lot, but she can’t let herself fall into it again, no matter how badly her body wants to stay curled into him.

She brings the same palm to her chest then, trying to put some distance, but Lando stirs instinctively. His arm pulls at her waist, his fingers twitching against the fabric of her dress, unwilling to let her go even in the hazy blur of waking up.

His body recognizes hers before his mind does; the warmth, the normalcy of having her there. Then, reality creeps in, dragging him back into consciousness. And with it comes the dull ache pressing against the inside of his skull, the dryness in his throat, the remnants of last night staining his entire body with exhaustion, guilt, and shame.

“I feel like shit,” he speaks against her shoulder, voice raspy from sleep. His head is pounding, his stomach unsettled, but her scent is the only thing guiding him to something steady. He breathes it in, eyes still closed, and continues, “I need a greasy burger for breakfast.”

“It’s past one,” she says quietly.

Lando groans, rolling onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes. He can feel her presence, but even though her body is so close to his, he starts to feel the tension. The distance. He realizes it the second she moves again, getting in a sitting position, ready to leave the bed. Leave him.

Lando’s eyes snap open, desperate to catch a glimpse of her, even as the sunlight nearly blinds him. Her hair is messy, hands resting against her lap. Her dress is all wrinckled and drapes over her frame, making her look small in a way that destroys him. Like she doesn’t belong to this moment, like she’s already halfway out the door.

“I should go,” she says the words that he was so afraid of, and it feels like a knife to his ribs.

“You should stay,” he insists. “We can get something to eat, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

She presses a palm against her forehead, realizing the gravity of the situation. Giving him false hope won’t help anyone.

“No, thank you. Falling asleep was already bad enough.”

Lando clears his throat before speaking again, slightly unsure, “Was it, though?” he asks and, in return, she shoots him a warning look. “I know, I’m sorry.”

However, she’s no longer angry with him. She exhausted the last of her strength last night, and now all that’s left is the bitter taste of what could have been.

“Is that the only thing you’ll say now?”

He licks his lips, throat still dry as if he drank sand. “Yes. Until you forgive me.”

It was meant to be lighthearted, a little joke, and a weak attempt at softening the weight pressing down on both of them. Based on past experiences, she always forgave him. So why should now be any different, right? But when she doesn’t react, when the silence only thickens, he realizes how fucking stupid that was.

She blinks once, twice. Her gaze flickers away, “Your final call,” she says quietly, “Did you do it because of that girl? You got scared because you liked her more than you thought you could?”

Lando’s heart stalls for a second, caught off guard by her inquire. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know what the hell I was doing. I mean, I was scared. But not of her,” he stops, thinking of it. The frown comes back, and it looks like the thought gives him a headache. “I was scared of falling back into something I couldn’t fix. Still am. You and me… we’re not easy, you know?” he lets out a small, bitter laugh, almost self-deprecating. “We’ve never been easy. And I’m just so tired of fucking things up.”

She doesn’t think much about her actions lately. She wasn’t thinking last night when she left her date in a rush, and she certainly isn’t thinking now, as she turns her body to face him.

“I don’t understand you anymore, Lando. The only thing I do understand is that you pushed me away just so you wouldn’t have to deal with me. Because you couldn’t handle me, is that right?”

Lando winces. The weight of her words hit him harder than any punch. “No, it’s not right. I just didn’t know how to fix… me,” he says it for the first time out loud, his voice breaking on the last part; surprisingly, it’s not making him as uncomfortable as he thought it would. “I didn’t want to lose you. Not like that.”

She scoffs, “And now what? You think one drunken night is enough to put you on the right track? You think you know what you want just because you’re afraid of losing something that’s no longer yours anyway?” the girl asks, watching as his facial expression changing in pain. “I’m sorry, Lando. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I need answers.”

His voice is barely a whisper as he replies, “The only answer I can give you is that I didn’t know how to be what you needed at the time. Is that so hard to believe?”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them away. “It is,” she agrees, “Because you never asked me what I needed. Not once. You just did what was best for you. And now…,” her voice trails off before moving her eyes on a random point on the floor, “You’re not showing me anything. You can say that all you want, but how do I know you won’t push me away again? I need to know you’re here, that you’re really here.”

Lando reaches for her then, almost instinctively, his hands determined as he cups her face. “I am here,” he whispers, leaning in, his breath shaky against her skin. “You’re just too stubborn to let me back in. And I get why,” he rushes to say as he feels her tensing under his touch. “But, please. Let me fix us. Please.”

Neither of them speak for a while after that. She’s so close to him now, she can hear both of their heartbeats, the weight of every single second hanging between them like lead from a strand of hair.

She is hesitant, but she pulls him in first, her lips barely brushing over his. Even though it’s a featherlight touch, her close proximity ignites something highly flammable in Lando. He stills, his breath caught in his throat, his hands curling into fists as if holding himself back, too afraid to take it any further too fast.

Just as he leans in, just as he starts to close the little gap, slowly, she pulls away. The loss of her, even for a second, makes his patience snap and, without giving her the chance to build another wall between them, he reaches out, fingers threading into her hair, pulling her back to him, this time with purpose.

She doesn’t resist — can’t, really.

His forehead presses against hers and neither of them move, trapped in the space between knowing and doing. His grip tightens against her jaw, thumb stroking over the edge of her cheek, his breath hot against her parted lips. The weight of everything that’s been left unsaid lingers in the air, and it’s suffocating. She exhales shakily, closing her eyes for a moment, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers splayed over his heart, feeling the way it pounds beneath her touch. And then, as if her body betrays every ounce of hesitation in her mind, she fists his shirt and pulls him back against her.

They crash together, and the world tilts within a second.

Their lips meet in a clash of want and desperation that knows no border of sanity. His hands are suddenly everywhere, cradling her face, threading through her hair, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. She presses into him, her nails scraping against the back of his neck, anchoring herself to him like she’s afraid he’ll slip away any minute. Like he’s going to change his mind again, and tell her to leave, because he needs to be alone.

But he won’t. He never will again. The taste of her floods his senses, familiar and intoxicating, making his body buzz with excitement as he deepens the kiss. He breathes her in, trying to make up for every second he’s spent without her.

She wants him, and she’s aware that things could go exponentially wrong after this, but she’s already broke the rules the moment she crossed his threshold last night. She shifts against him, pressing closer, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. He stirs slightly, humming, his arms automatically locking around her, helping her sit on his lap.

Her lips brush against his jaw, trailing down the column of his throat. She’s barely even touching him, but she knows he feels it, because she hears the way his breathing stutters, the slight twitch of his fingers against her hip. She smiles, shifting again, innocent, except not at all, because her thigh suddenly drags over his, pressing just enough to feel the growing heat between them.

Lando lets out a sleepy grunt, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “What the hell are you doing?” his aroused voice is exactly how she remembers, rough and deep, and able to send shivers down her spine.

She hums, pressing another kiss to his collarbone. “Nothing.”

Lando chuckles, his hand sliding to grab her waist, fingers lazy but firm. “No, I think you’re doing something.”

And, whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause to think.

She lets out a dry laugh, edged with sadness and a hint of accusation, “Always making me ache, aren’t you?” she asks, pressing her lips against his ear, while positioning herself above him, helping Lando get rid of his shirt. Soon enough, her fingers are dragging down his stomach, nails grazing lightly at his abs. “It’s like it turns you on to see me in pain, isn’t it?” the girl sighs, brushing her hips against his in a way that makes him curse under his breath.

His fingers dig more into her waist, his patience thinning by the second. “You know that’s not true,” his voice sounds so angelic, that she actually believes him for a second because of it. “I’m sorry you can’t trust me anymore. But there’s nothing I hate more than to see you hurting because of me.”

She nods, giving him the impression that his words have the power to make her weak. In reality, she’s just curious to find out how sorry he really is.

“You’ve said that about a hundred times already,” the girl reminds him, “How bad, though?” she tries to push the limits, mostly to see if there are any, the words slipping from her lips like something delicate and filthy all at once. “Bad enough that you’ll drunk text me again? To see if I come running to you? Again? To say you’re sorry a hundred more times, hoping I’ll let you fuck me in whatever position you want, for as long as you want just because I feel for your sorry ass?”

His nostrils flare as he exhales in disapproval, “Stop that shit.”

“Why?” her voice sounds overly seductive, but somehow, he knows it’s just a trap. “Isn’t sex your answer to everything?”

There you go.

Lando’s jaw tenses as the words continue to leave her mouth, unforgiving, each one winding around his self-control like a vice. His fingers twitch on her waist, the weight of her straddling him making it impossible to think straight. She knows exactly what she’s doing, pushing, teasing and testing the waters of his restraint.

And fuck, it’s working.

Her dress has ridden up her thighs higher, exposing smooth, warm skin that begs to be touched, and his hands find their way there without permission, fingertips pressing into her like he wants to make sure he’s not just dreaming, and she’s actually there.

“Not trying to fuck my way back to you, if that’s what you mean,” Lando disagrees just as he lets his fingers drift higher, watching the way her breath becomes more uneven. “But won’t back down if it works, either. So what does that say about you? That we’re just the same?”

She puffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor behind it. Just a lot of tension, coiled so tight between them that something is bound to snap. Soon.

“We’re so not,” she argues, tilting her head slightly, her lips so close to his that he can taste her breath. “I actually have the balls to stay when things get tough.”

Her unfiltered comment it’s all it takes.

Lando moves in a blur, gripping her hips and flipping them over in one swift motion, pressing her into the couch as a surprised gasp leaves her lips. He hovers over her, his body fitting perfectly between her open thighs, hands braced on either side of her head. The sudden shift has her looking up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, and chest heaving in anticipation.

In this position, Lando looks at her like he’s trying to figure out what to do to her, aware that the changing in dynamics favors him. His hands find the hem of her dress, fingertips teasing the edge as he watches her reaction, giving her a chance to stop him — or to take back her words, whichever comes first. But she does neither. Instead, she lifts her hips, a silent plea, and that’s all the permission that Lando needs.

He peels the fabric up, savoring the way her body is revealed inch by inch. His mouth finds the newly exposed skin along her ribs with the speed of a man starved, trailing open-mouthed kisses up her torso, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. Lando can feel her shiver beneath him, her fingers tangling into his curls, tugging just enough to pull a string of sweet noises out of him.

“I won’t be able to stop if we—” he murmurs against her skin, a last sliver of hesitation buried underneath all the want.

She cuts him off by cupping his jaw, guiding his face up so he has no choice but to look at her. “I won’t ask you to,” she assures him, lifting her hips up once more to meet his, feeling how hard he is against her. The contact is like a drug she’s been deprived of for too long, and now that she has access to him again, her mouth starts moving before wiring to the rational side of her brain, “I wanna do laundry together later.”

Despite what he’s just said, Lando does stop, watching her intently. Because he knows that she means more than just laundry. For starters, it means she’s staying. It means she’s letting him try. It means the weight in his chest that’s been suffocating him for weeks finally lifts, replaced by something warm yet fragile, something he doesn’t dare break this time.

He has to swallow past the ache before pressing himself against her, letting her scent wrap around him like the most familiar kind of comfort.

“Yeah?” he finally whispers, like he’s afraid speaking too loudly might shatter whatever weak truce they’ve found between them.

She nods, a real smile appearing on her face, the first one in months, “Yeah,” she parrots, which urges Lando to plant another kiss on her lips, lazier this time. And she welcomes him.

Gradually, his grip consolidates around her, his teeth catching her bottom lip, and suddenly, the slow morning is anything but. Now he’s wired, wide awake, and so fucking hard.

Her hands work fast, pushing at the waistband of his pants with an urgency that makes Lando’s pulse hammer in his throat. He moves enough to help her, and then the fabric is gone, pooling somewhere on the floor, next to her dress and panties.

The feeling of skin on skin has the power to set him on fire, every inch of him hypersensitive as she drags her fingers down his stomach, nails scratching lightly against the ridges of muscle before wrapping around him for just a second, only to say hi. His breath catches, head tipping forward before he forces himself to look down at her.

“You’re a menace,” Lando points out. His voice is thick with desire as he rolls his hips against her once her hands move around his neck, dragging his length along the soft skin of her inner thigh, brushing lightly where she needs him most. He feels her shiver, her nails digging into his back for a fraction of a second before she exhales a breathy laugh.

“I had to adapt,” she says, her voice saccharine, but teasing, fingers biting into his shoulder blades.

“I can see that,” his tone is rough, but there’s something playful underneath it. He continues to move, this time with more intention, the tip of his cock catching against her slick heat.

She bites her lip, her free hand reaching up to pull him down on her and crash their lips together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, too desperate to be anything but raw. He groans into her mouth, their breaths blending together, and she takes the moment to wrap her legs around his waist, locking him against her completely, the heat ever-growing.

The easiest thing in the world for Lando is to get lost in her warmth, her scent and the way his skin vibrates with every touch of her delicate palm.

The hardest thing in the world for Lando is to stop when every nerve in his body screams for more, just to make sure she wants this as much as he does, even though it risks snapping her back to reason, forcing her to push him away all over again.

“If you don’t—”

She doesn’t even hesitate. “I do.”

With that, his hand is already in motion, dragging down her stomach, pushing between her thighs. He finds her soaked, warm, and slick against his fingertips, and it makes him want to howl, knowing that he still has the same effect on her; if anything, the time spent apart only made her miss his touch more.

“Shit,” he slurs, pressing two fingers against her clit, moving them in torturous circles. “Missed seeing you this needy in the morning.”

She hums, thighs twitching. “Techincally, it’s not morning anymore.”

Lando shakes his head in disbelief, “That smart mouth,” his fingers slip lower, teasing at her entrance but never pushing in, just pressing there, feeling the way she opens up for him.

For a moment, his fingers stay right there to tease her, barely giving what she wants, what she’s silently begging for with the way her hips roll forward. Agonizingly slow, he pushes in, finding her so ready for him and so fucking tight, that Lando swears he could lose his mind just from feeling her in his hands.

The girl huffs out a breath, her frustration evident as she glares up at him, “Lando.”

“Yes, love?” he uses his fingers to press further just a little more, but never enough, feeling her walls hugging him impatiently.

She bites her lip, a flush creeping down her neck, and he knows she hates the way he’s making her ask for it.

Her voice is sharper next time she speaks, “You win. Now stop being a dick.”

Lando smirks, dipping down to press a kiss to her shoulder, dragging his teeth along her skin before pulling back to look at her. “I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully, fingers curling lightly inside her pussy, enough to make her whimper. “I kinda like seeing you like this.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but it’s ruined by the way she starts panting when he finally, finally, glides his fingers in and out, her body agreeing with everything he has to offer. His thumb presses against her clit, rubbing her wetness against it as he watches her fall apart, her hands clinging onto him for support.

“Fuck,” she cries, head tipping back, and Lando swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Yeah, fuck,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth, and then her jaw. Her back arches instantly, a moan spilling from her lips as her nails dig into his arms, while he’s going faster, agonizingly so, dragging his fingers in and out, feeling how her body fights to keep him in. “This what you needed?”

She quickly turns her head from side to side, fingernails scratching along the skin his shoulders. “More,” she whispers, already out of breath. “Wanna feel you.”

Lando pulls his fingers out, watching the way her slick clings to them in the rich color of the afternoon light. He blows out the breath of air he was holding, trapping her thighs in his grasp as he lines himself up, the tip of his cock dragging through the wetness pooling between her legs.

“Well, if that’s what you want, that’s what you get, baby. Wanna see you drip on it,” he muses, pressing just barely inside before pulling back out, coating himself in her slick. “See how much you missed me.”

She whines, hips jerking up.

The grin on Lando’s face widens. “There you go, you beauty.”

She meets his eyes, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from his kisses. Seeing her like that, squirming under him, throws Lando into a spiral. For now, he has no idea where this moment will take them. All he knows is that he wants to make the most of it, to memorize her body lines and the sound of her moans, because once the haze fades and clarity takes its place, anything is possible.

And that terrifies him.

Sinking into her feels like homecoming, and the sweet stretch is making both of them whine in unison, cling onto each other. He swears under his breath as her walls constrict around his length, her mouth falling open in a breathy gasp.

“Holy shit.”

She’s so full of him, just like she wanted, the feeling even better than she remembers.

Lando presses a kiss to her jaw, his hands holding her waist tight enough to leave faint marks behind. “Not letting you go ever again,” he says with his lips glued to her skin like he’s in a trance, voice strained as he fights to keep control of his own body.

She nods, barely able to realize what’s she agreeing on, mind buzzing with thoughts of him, him, only him. “Promise?”

Lando sighs, pulling out slowly, almost all the way before sinking back in. The sound alone — that lazy, wet, messy drag of his cock leaving her, again and again — enough to turn him into a savage man. He watches, entranced, as the evidence of how much she wants him spills down her slit, glistening and painting her inner thighs.

In answer to her plea, Lando links his pinky finger with hers, his hand covering hers entirely. “Promise you, baby. You’re fucking unreal,” he rasps.

Waiting for her was pure torture, but the thought that this can be over before it even properly begins, forces him to still inside her then pull out entirely, his cock, flushed and soaked, resting against her thigh, leaving more of their mess behind. He grips the base, stroking himself once, careful, watching as her empty cunt clenches in his absence, her body desperate to be filled again.

“I’m so glad I got drunk,” says Lando, tracing his fingertips through the wetness between her legs. He presses a long finger back inside her, for his own pleasure, only to feel how impatient she is.

She cries out, thighs snapping shut around his wrist, back arching off the couch. “Yeah, me too,” she blinks up to him, her sincerity spurring Lando on.

He adds another finger as a reward, fucking into her deeper, his other hand stroking his cock in time with her gasps.

“We were always gonna end up here, weren’t we?” asks Lando, his hand working her faster now, watching as she writhes beneath him.

She lets out a choked moan, but can’t answer, too busy rolling her hips against his movements.

“Me, apologizing,” Lando continues, sounding so out of breath, “While you moan my name. Like always, is that right?”

“Lan,” she warns.

“Juuust like that. Look at you,” he chuckles, watching the way her body responds, getting covered in a sweaty layer of goosebumps, and the way her thighs tremble. “As desperate as ever.”

She whimpers, pushing up onto her elbows, dazed and itching to see what he’s doing to her. And the sight makes her pulse race: Lando between her legs, his fingers moving inside her, fucking her with a contrasting gentle force, while his other hand works over his cock, slick and hard, ready to stretch her all over again.

His eyes flick up to hers, dark and hungry, lips parted as he watches her descending into despair, slowly but surely. He drags his fingers out, just to press them back in, firmly, watching her body tense, making her whine louder.

“That’s it, my sweet girl,” he praises, voice subdued and teasing. “Feel it,” his strokes on himself grow lazier, drawing out the moment. “Feel me.”

She nods frantically, her thighs so close to give up from so much shaking. “Not… enough.”

Lando mewls, biting his lip as he watches her squirm, his patience hanging by a thread. “No?” he asks amused, pulling his fingers out and lining himself up again. “Let’s do something about it then. Show you how sorry I am, hm?”

He pushes back inside without any warning in one fluid motion, and the sensation wrecks both of them at the same time. She’s always so fucking tight, but soaked enough that there’s no resistance, just the messy slide of him stretching her open with every inch.

“Shit,” his voice is barely a sound, more like a guttural groan as he bottoms out, his hands finding their way back home, on her hips.

The heat of her, the way she pulses around him, has his heart racing relentlessly, and their sounds fill the living room every time they move together. Lando grits his teeth, withdrawing just halfway before thrusting back in, harder each time.

She gasps, her body craving him, like she can’t get enough. “More.”

He snarls, pace picking up, his hips snapping against hers, skin meeting skin in a rhythm that’s almost punishing. “More?” Lando asks in amazement, “You fucking take everything I give you, and you still want more?”

She nods, dragging her hands down his back, nails leaving marks that burn, but it only spurs him on, thankful she gives him something he could feel for hours after they’re done.

“Always more,” she whimpers, legs wrapping weakly around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she yammers. “Feels so. Good,” she chokes on the last word, lifting her hips in desperation.

Lando is close to sobbing at this point, slamming into her, his control unraveling by the second. “Good girl. Gonna make you come so fucking hard you’ll feel me every time you blink.”

Her whines break into cries as he fucks her harder, each thrust hitting the exact spot inside her where she needs him most. His hand slips between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing her in messy circles, just to see her fall prey to the pleasure that only he can give her.

“Yes,” she nods, her body keep moving on its own to meet his. “Yes, I’m so close. Don’t stop!”

He is far too hypnotized by the way she loses it under him, demanding more and more with each passing second. Lando’s hands move then to encircle her waist, squeezing gently before sliding higher up her ribs, and finally to her breasts. They don’t rest there for too long, though, as she grabs his wrists and moves them around her neck, pulling his face right above hers. Her legs tighten tighter around him, and her palm cups his ass cheeks, pressing him deeper into her.

“That bad?” he asks her, and all she can do is nod again, speechless. “Come on, then. Wanna feel you drench my—"

Lando can’t even finish his sentence as her moans get louder, a blinding pleasure tearing through her in waves, over and over again, too intense to hold back. She cries out, back arching, body shaking she squirts, soaking both of them.

“Ah, shit. Shit shit shit!” Lando’s voice is wrecked, his hips stuttering as he watches her welcoming the euphoria.

The sight, the feel of her pulsing around him, squeezing him so tight has the power to destroy him. He barely manages a few more thrusts before he breaks, burying himself deep, groaning as he spills inside her, warmth flooding her walls. His body shudders against hers, muscles tensing, pleasure rolling through him in waves just as endless as hers. His hands are holding on to her like she’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. And right now, she is.

For them, the time stops. They just breathe each other in, their bodies locked together, still vibrating. He can feel everything, from the soft rise and fall of her chest to the tiny aftershocks still making her pussy throb around him, pulling him deeper even though he’s already buried to the hilt. It makes Lando gasp softly, dragging his lips lazily over her jaw.

His fingers brush along her side once they manage to catch their breaths. “You okay?” Lando’s voice is low, lightly dipped in concern at her sudden silence.

She nods weakly, eyes snapping open, a satisfied little hum escaping her lips. “Okay,” she breathes out, lovingly tracing her fingers along his spine.

Lando smiles mischievously, “Okay.”

Before she can register what he’s doing, he grabs one of her legs and pulls it up, resting it over his shoulder, changing the angle entirely.

“The fuck?” her inquire is startled, but it quickly turns into something else the moment he starts moving, the new position making everything tighter, deeper. Heaven.

His grin is downright devilish. “Not done,” he informs her matter-of-factlty.

To that, Lando’s hands settle firmly back on her hips, pinning her in place before he draws back and thrusts into her measured at first, the kind of stroke that leaves her breathless.

Somehow, the finish line turns into a brand new start, and all she can do is brace for it.

“Oh, my—Lando!” her stomach twists, fingers grasping at nothing, forced to cling to the cushions because she can’t reach him like this. The position keeps her wide open for him, helpless, unable to do anything but take it.

Lando hums, his grip tightening. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. Spread wider for me,” he instructs. “Can you give me one more?”

She whimpers, barely able to think, let alone answer, as he starts pounding into her, his rhythm relentless. Every thrust knocks the breath from her lungs, her body struggling to keep up with the sheer intensity of it, but somehow excited and so willing to push the limits.

“Please,” it’s both a cry and a plea, but she doesn’t even know what she’s begging for.

“Obsessed with those pretty noises. Just take it, baby,” he breathes, driving into her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

His grip shifts then, spreading her even wider, forcing her open until there’s nowhere for her to run. His pace slows just for a fraction, not out of mercy, but because he wants to feel every inch of her hugging him, wants her to feel how deep he is, how there’s no part of her he isn’t claiming.

And then he sees it.

Right there, in the soft plane of her lower stomach. Every time he pushes in, there’s a faint, tantalizing bulge, proof of just how deep he goes; his brain short-circuits. The sight of it has him helpless, hunger twisting tight in his gut, making his cock twitch inside her.

“Fucking hell,” his voice is nothing but raw, shattered arousal. He can’t help himself, instinctively bringing his wide palm to press down on it, applying the slightest pressure, feeling himself inside her from the outside.

“Fuck’s sake, Lando,” her moans turn high, her body jerking as if there is no such thing as too much pleasure.

“You feel that, baby?” Lando’s eyes are wild, rolling his hips a bit slower now, pushing so far inside her that she swears she can feel him in her throat. “Feel how fucking deep I am?”

She nods, tears beading in the corners of her eyes, her hands clawing harder at the sheets because it’s too much.

His forehead falls forward, resting on hers. “Forgive me.”

A simple — yet not really — plea, wrapped in something devastatingly tender. It makes her stomach flip, makes her heart ache in a way that feels too big for her body. She clenches around him involuntarily, and he groans, his grip on her hips tightening.

Her leg slides down his waist, hands instantly flying around his back, pulling him impossibly closer, her lips brushing against his jaw as she nods. “Please, Lando…”

“I need you,” he says, “Need you by my side when I win. Need you by my side when I fuck up. When I’m flying so high it feels like I’ll never come down.”

The sweat blends with the smell and the desperation behind his confession, and somehow, the moment feels endless, even though both of them know it quickly approaches the end.

“Need you when it gets too loud, when I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just noise. Need you when I wake up, and when I go to sleep. Just… need my pretty girl that knows me better than anyone,” he praises, pressing his palm firmer against her stomach, feeling the way she squeezes him from the inside. “Need to fuck you like this every day, baby. To be the one that drives you mad. Please. Please, forgive me.”

His words send a shockwave through her, a moan ripping from her throat. Lando hisses, thrusting deep again, watching the way his cock bulges against his palm, and the way her body welcomes him with no resistance.

He is right there, balancing on the knife’s edge of pleasure, and it’s almost infuriating. His whole body shakes with the effort of holding back, but he can’t tear his eyes away from where they’re joined. The sight has his stomach tensing, his cock throbbing inside her. The slick glide, the way she clenches around him every time he grinds in deep, and the way her body drags him back in with every pull out it’s fucking unbearable.

“Baby, I can’t—” she drags him deeper into the heat of her release, her weak arms pulling him impossibly closer as if she’ll disintegrate without him.

That does it for Lando, shattering whatever control he has left. His rhythm stutters, his thrusts turning erratic as the pressure in his spine explodes.

“Fuck” he groans as his release bursts inside her, hot and thick, flooding her walls. His hips jerk against her as wave after wave crashes through him, his cock pulsing with every sharp, overwhelming aftershock.

But even as his body shudders with euphoria, even as his breath stutters against her throat, his hips keep moving.

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” he rasps, pressing into her with hard grinds, still spilling inside her, his body demanding more. “Fucking hell, I can’t stop.”

She gasps, over-sensitive but still achingly wet for him, her body responding to every push, every deep roll of his hips.

“I know, I know,” she says, wrapping herself around him.

“Yes? Just a little more,” he begs, “Please, just let me feel you a little longer.”

His movements slow eventually, each thrust turning sluggish, drawn out, until he can’t physically move anymore. The last of his pleasure drains from him, leaving his body heavy, and utterly spent. Finally, he collapses on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, breathing ragged, skin covered in a generous layer of sweat. His natural scent sends her home in an instant, and all she wants right now is for time to freeze in place.

She doesn’t say anything, just exhales softly and presses a kiss to his temple, then another to his cheek, her lips brushing over his damp skin. She moves tenderly, kissing his jaw, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose. He’s still inside her, still holding onto her like she’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

People talk about the quiet before the storm, but the quiet after is much more terrifying. It gives you time to see the destruction it left behind, and there’s nothing you can do but watch. She has always hated feeling powerless, and it’s only when she tilts her head, pressing her lips to his forehead, that she feels it. A warm, wet drop against her collarbone. Then another.

Her fingers still where they were stroking through his curls. “Lando?” she whispers, pulling back just enough to look at him, hoping that her suspicions will not come true. But that’s when she sees the raw emotion in his eyes, the way his brows are furrowed, the silent tears slipping down his cheeks.

He looks almost startled, like he hadn’t even realized he was crying. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his lips parting slightly as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

She cups his face instinctively, her thumb catching a tear before it can fall, just like he did last night. “Lan…” she speaks a bit louder this time, “Look at me.”

He shakes his head in response, his hands gripping her waist like he’s afraid she’ll disappear again, this time for more than two months.

Lando presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes, feeling more tears running down his cheeks, “Tell me it’s not too late for us,” he pleads, pulling back to finally meet her gaze. “Tell me I haven’t fucked this up beyond repair.”

Beneath the surface, the pain still lingers. But much deeper down, their bond is still knotted tightly, and even though the rope is taut, ready to snap at any small gust of wind, the fact that she’s still in his arms is enough for the rope to become the binder that holds them together. She can’t name the feeling without giving him everything all at once. Instead, she just brushes her nose against his.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[onsomenewsht]

And through the clouds, I see love shine

About when, on a Wednesday in a restaurant at Barcelona, you watch it begin again

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: 12.8k

》 fight a losing battle [idiom]: also known as “losing game”, to try hard to do something when there is no chance that you will succeed, a failing effort or activity 

Your last relationship ends so badly that you consider abstinence from everything – processed sugar, alcohol, and even people. A period of deep cleansing, as if you could purify every cell of your body, like a celebrity spiraling from rehab to full-blown identity crisis.

This emotional state explains why you find yourself on a one-way flight to Barcelona, all your things crumbled in a backpack.  A rash impulse led you to declutter your belongings, a wishful attempt of turning into a completely new person just because your closet is now half what it used to be.

The decision to straight-up flee is rushed and quite terrifying, much like many of your recent choices.

Elena, your best friend since you were barely old enough to share made-up stories and Barbie-like careers, thinks you’re going mental. She nearly cries when you decide to donate your vintage Christian Lacroix jacket, but you’re convinced it’s the only way to get a new lease on life, so she mourns in silence.

The loudest reaction comes from your brother, who, if you could be mature enough to admit it, is the only voice of reason that almost resonates in your head. 

Almost.

Despite your stubbornness, you accept the offer of hospitality from one of his university friends, who gives away a spare room. You don’t plan on staying in a hotel for gods know how long, and you certainly don’t have the patience to search for an apartment. You’re not completely out of mind, if they want to help, so be it. 

Barcelona is brighter and feels as welcoming as you hoped, though that might just be the nicer weather and the fact you’re far from your problems. And your ex. 

The first month flies by in a rush of Catalan cafeterias, art galleries, and little boutiques that refill both your closet and your spirit. 

The people here are kind enough to put up with your attempts to speak the language, humoring you since you’re oh-so-sure that eleven consecutive days on a passive-aggressive app have made you fluent.

The places you visit and the ones strangers recommend are loud enough to ignore the voices of reason in your ear that start to sound a lot like your brother’s.

Still, there’s only so much one can do to avoid responsibilities and self-consciousness.

“You need a job”, Ricardo states one morning, finding you in the kitchen eating cold pizza, still in the clothes you wore two nights ago.

Your closet isn’t as limited anymore.

“I’ve saved enough money to enjoy my vacation, thanks for your concern”

“I thought that was the money saved to buy a house with your ex”

“I do not have an ex nor a house to worry about, do I?”

As soon as the pizza starts to taste like regret, you’re ready to end the conversation to sleep the rest of day away. 

Ricardo means well, you know that. 

He’s a nice guy and a good roommate, but, like your brother, he’s overprotective and likes to gossip a little too much. Sometimes, it’s surprising how much he knows about you. Most of the time, it’s just annoying.

“I want to say– maybe a routine could be good for you”

“I have a routine”, you retort, knowing it’s a fat lie.

You’re out of the bed before eleven only if you didn’t sleep through the night before, wandering around the city with no real destination until something, somehow, catches your attention.

It’s not a bad thing per se, but it’s not a sustainable lifestyle.

“You quit a well-paid accounting job, right?”

“Ricardo, I swear, I’m this close to reporting you for stalking”

His laugh is too loud this early in the morning, but the comfort of bantering with someone who knows you is too familiar to ignore. Even if most of his insight comes from your nosy brother.

They both need to find a hobby that doesn’t involve judging your questionable life choices.

He sips his coffee while studying you, assessing how risky it would be to keep pushing the subject.

Apparently, he feels brave enough.

“My friends’ restaurant could use some help”

~

You’re not sure if Ricardo downplayed it or if he’s just blissfully unaware, but his friends don’t need some help – they need a miracle. 

That’s what happens when you get scammed by your bookkeeper. 

Despite not being really familiar with Spanish tax laws and regulation, it’s clear as the day someone exploited every possible loophole in the profitable business run by three way-too-trusting men. The truth becomes evident as you examine their accounting ledger, your frown deepening with each passing moment.

You have been to their restaurant before, and have loved it.

The place is cosy and carefully maintained. The food is prepared by a grumpy man from Puerto Rico named Paco, who, after twenty years in Barcelona, learned just enough cursing in Catalan to run the kitchen. Local bands play live on the weekend and someone’s mom made sure everyone is nice and well mannered. The worn wooden tables are witness of countless shared meals. 

Pedro and Paul, the other two owners, can only be described as a comedy duo with a really questionable sense of style and even worse jokes. But they’re nice enough, definitely good company when you have a bad day. They can turn it upside down so quickly, for the better or the worst.

However, Ricardo tells you how much the restaurant means for his friends and the local community, guilt-tripping you into helping them to fix their finances.

The truth is, you love math and numbers so much that a challenge like this excites you more than it’s appropriate to admit.

Hence, you agree to help them for far less money you could have asked anyone in the same situation.

They take it as a promise to make sure the business keeps running and organise a dinner with way too many people to celebrate your help.

“I’ve barely started looking into it, Pedro”, you complain, not used to such enthusiasm.

“¡Cállate y bebe tu sangría!”

You meet Alba that same night.

She’s nice and quick-witted, no one is safe from her clever remarks. It feels nice, the way she makes sure you’re included when everyone seems to forget you’re still learning Spanish from a green bird on your phone, and that, in most conversations, you relate more to vibes than actual words.

Flirting is a universal language, though.

If her hand brushes on your arm a couple of times you make sure to smile and get closer, and if you lean into her with the excuse of needing a translation she makes sure to whisper right into your ear. There’s a note in her voice that makes you feel at ease.

Of course, Ricardo ruins everything.

“I’m starting to think you’re running from tax collectors, not your ex”

It’s a good joke, you know it is nothing more than that. But it suddenly reminds you how messy your life is and how out of place you feel sometimes.

Not just far away from home, but also far away from everything familiar.

A job for a company you hated but paid good money; friends you didn’t see as you’d liked, but who knew damn well when to drag you out of your apartment – and out of your own head. A boyfriend who barely tolerated your love, but somehow always managed to say and do the right things at the right time.

Every morning, you wake up knowing what to wear for work, what numbers to punch into the computer to get the needed results, and how to act to be sure you’re not too much.

You’re not running away from just your ex, you’re running away from your life as known until finding out about the cheating. 

“¿Todo bien?”, Alba asks, noticing how you miss the opportunity to jab Ricardo. 

It takes you a moment to register her reassuring hand on your arm and the talks moving to a completely different topic.

“Yeah, sorry, just tired”

“You better get used to the Spanish nightlife”

“It’s pretty much all I’m doing so far”, you admit, slowly sipping a beer and making sure your annoying roommate doesn’t hear a word about this.

The rest of the dinner passes without too much trouble, despite not remembering most of the names and following even less of the conversations. 

Alba stays close and you blame the spicy food for the way your face reddens when she bids her goodbye with three kisses and a promise to meet up with less people.

“It’s a surprise”, Ricardo comments, his grin spreading across his face as soon as you settle onto the couch to debrief the day’s events.

It’s starting to look a lot like a new routine, a tradition in the making.

“What? Something my brother didn’t mention?”

“¡Ay, claro!”

“I hate you”

“I had no idea Alba is your type”

You have to give credit where due, he displays incredible reflexes. He dodges the pillow you throw at him, your punch barely grazes his arm, and your kick misses his shin by a mile.

To be honest with yourself, you’re not really sure who is your type. 

Not even getting in the mind-space to think about your ex, the past relationships you care about to recall all look pretty different. There’s no consistent pattern, not a clear preference in haircuts or any kind of colours, not a style that catches your attention more than another. 

The only thing most of your exes have in common is tiring you to the bones and leaving your life making you trust less and less in others. 

Maybe you do have a type.

~

It’s not a date, you both agree on that.

She doesn’t ask about the infamous ex, she’s good company and even a nicer distraction.

But your mind drifts and, as you recount the highlights of how that relationship crumpled in slow motion, it becomes clear as the day you shouldn’t be with someone until you’ve committed to a good therapist.

It’s not fair to anyone, but it’s definitely not fair to Alba.

You kiss her anyway, and she makes you promise to let her be your first date as soon as you’re ready to get back into the game again.

~

“Ricardo told me your ex is un cabrón”

If not for the possibility of blemishing your otherwise spotless record, you could have shoved Pedro down the hill you’re currently struggling to climb, losing too much dignity. 

The guy looks like he had one beer too many, but he’s surprisingly in shape and apparently unaffected by the whole hike so far. 

“Am I the only topic of conversation he has?”, you ask, mostly to buy a few more seconds to catch your breath.

“Creo que sí”

You raise the finger as you outpace him to keep going.

The sun has set, casting a warm, golden hue across the clear Barcelona sky. Despite Pedro knocking on your door when it was barely socially accessible to be at someone’s place, it takes the two of you more time than necessary to reach this point of the trail.

Not close enough to the top yet, but definitely too late to turn back without regrets. 

It’s mostly his fault.

The view is impressive, and the Catalan knows too many fascinating details to not be amazed by the nature around.

“¿Estás bien?

“Cabrón is a nice word”

“It’s not”

“No, it’s– I mean it’s not a bad enough word to describe him”, you clarify with a faint smile as Pedro slows his pace.

Your final destination is just a few steps away.

It may be the pleasant company, a good friend you’ve discovered in an unexpected place at the most unexpected time of your life. It may be the warm rays of sunshine that tickle your skin or the ache making your legs feel alive. It may be the weight on your chest, the one that crushed good intentions and caused too many sleepless nights, now becoming smaller under a new sense of resolve.

It may be for many different reasons, but for the first time in more than you’re comfortable looking back, it feels better.

“It was a good relationship”

He gives you a moment, sitting on the slightly damp grass next to your sprawled figure.

“It was good, until it was really bad. But it’s hard to do anything about it when you’re doing such an impressive job at hiding all the signs”

“A bad relationship can’t be blamed on just one person”, he tries to reason.

“It can”

“Guapa, mira–”

“No, it can. He was controlling, aggressive, and incredibly talented at making me take all the blame and the shame”, you admit, for the first time out loud, “My only fault was pretending to ignore when I finally saw it all for what it really was”

As you gather the strength to rise to a more dignified position, you almost expect Pedro to hug you or be the over affectionate Spanish stereotype he usually is.

Instead, he’s looking somewhere away in the sky, pensive.

You feel the need to reassure him, “I’m fine now, I–”

“No, lo siento, lo siento”, he turns with a small, yet genuine smile, “We don’t know each other that well”

“You’re hurting me now, I thought we were friends”

“We are, tonta!”

Pedro raises and his large hands, marked with tiny cuts, extend to pick you up. He paves the way down the hill with no words, and for the first time since you meet the man, the silence it’s a surprise. 

It’s not uncomfortable, maybe just a little unsettling.

And short-lived.

“We don’t know each well”

“You already said that”

He shoves you playfully, not impressed by your attitude, but used to it.

“Lo que quiero decir es que– you’re a good person, I can tell, even if we don’t know each other for long”

“Don’t get soft on my right now”

“You’re a good person and you love good, you have to keep loving”, he states, so casually, “Once you know love, you should never try to forget”

~

“At this point, I’m pretty sure you hit your head hard enough to go mental and somehow no one noticed”

“I miss you so much, Elena”

Your phone is precariously balanced on a glass of wine as you cook a recipe Paco scribbled on a piece of paper. In Catalan. 

It makes less sense than his finance decisions, but you’ll take it.

Your best friend’s face is half out of frame but you can clearly point out every step of her beauty routine. It’s a grueling and painfully long process, her boyfriend is way more patient than you about it.

But tonight Ricardo is out for his bi-weekly pottery class, and you’re happy to indulge her just for the sake of spending some time together, even if it’s through a screen.

Not like there’s a slight chance you’d say it out loud.

“What are you trying to cook?”, the eyebrow in frame raises skeptically.

“No idea”, you admit, coming to the conclusion the number you’re looking at is five and there’s no way this dish needs so many onions.

“Good, now, let’s track back to your mental instability”

“And you ask why I am in different country?”

The wasp she lets out is so loud, and the silence that follows is so deafening you look at the screen to make sure the call is still on. She can be so dramatic.

“Don’t joke about it, I’m still grieving”

“I’m still alive”

“Barely”, she mutters.

Elena is a good friend, despite the theatrics. 

When the world seems a little too much to handle, she turns into a safe space for you to be at peace. When you’re overthinking the stupidest choices, she always has a comforting, new point of view. 

To people who don’t have the privilege to know her well enough, she may look shallow and too noisy. The truth is, you’ve never met someone so aware of herself and her life that she perfectly understands how to give due weight to even the smallest things. 

And she doesn’t keep quiet, she loves loud and proud. 

You learned to hold yourself back. You were forced to.

That’s the biggest lesson she’s still teaching you.

“Just saying, you’re surrounded by hot, Spanish people–”

“Happens when in Spain”

“You’re allowed to have fun!”

“I have plenty, thank you very much”

A strange smell comes out of the pan as the lid is lifted, prompting you to close it and pretend it’s not even there for the rest of the night. Not planning to call a poison center, ordering takeout is how you opt to end this cooking attempt.

If Elena thinks you paused the video to piss her off, it is on her.

When your best friend’s face pops up on the screen again it’s so serious you’re tempted to hang up for real.

“I mean it in a good way, don’t get me wrong, but taking a leave of absence and flying to Barcelona is the most selfish thing I witnessed you do in forever”

“I’m actually thinking of quitting for good and going freelance”

“See?”, she gushes, although she can’t be taken seriously with a panda-shaped face mask on, “You like to do your nerd-numbers-shit again, you’re trying new things, even if you clearly can’t be trusted in the kitchen–”

“Fuck you, that man can cook, but for sure can’t write”

“You’re making friends, not as amazing as me, but we’ll take it!”

Trying to argue could be useless and, honestly, you have no arguments.

“You’re fine, you’re doing good”, she smiles, and you miss her a little bit more.

This time you say it out loud, and she cries.

~

The guys are planning something.

By now, you know them well enough to sense trouble the moment you step into the restaurant.

Paco wears a grin that’s almost creepy, a beam blasted across his face, while Pedro is cleaning the tables with unnecessary vigour and his usual commitment is taken to an unusual level.

They’re clearly waiting for something to happen, lingering around as you try to explain to Paul, the musketeer you pointed as the most reliable when money is on the line, how to delay a payment reminder.

“Okay, what is wrong with them?”, you ask, trying to recall a single reason why you put up with these people’s ethics.

You only need one.

“No te entiendo”

“Tú me entiendes perfectamente”

“Your español is getting so good, ¿lo sabes?”, Pedro chimes in, and you’re sure whatever they want, you’re not going to like it. 

Paul is usually the voice of reason, the emotionally adult one. Why is he looking at you like he’s about to commit the worst betrayal?

“We were thinking–”

“I’m scared when you guys think”

“We are allies, feminists, and strong supporters of women in male dominated fields, equality–”

“Please, shut up”, you interrupt as if the conversation is physically hurting you.

“Barça is playing the Copa on Saturday. We organise una fiesta every year when they come back, es una tradición”, Pedro cuts in, feeling like the best way to get to the point is to dive straight into it.

“What if they lose?”

“Ellas no pierden”, Paul’s voice is so final you don’t dare to object.

“Cool, fine, why are you acting like this party is something I’ll not like?”

“We pay for it all”

It’s nice.

It is a really nice gesture, knowing how much they care about their community and their friends and apparently the women’s side of their favourite club. 

Then you remember they have a huge debt to pay up because an asshole took advantage of their kind hearts and the accounts are just starting to make sense again.

“It’s a good thing”, you admit out loud, “But–”

When Paul starts a passionate rant about the team’s season so far and how sure he is they are gonna win those trophies all over again, apparently setting a new record for the sport itself, it’s not strange to feel thrilled too.

Even Paco joins the excitement at the prospect of adding another title to the collection.

You have been in Barcelona long enough to understand football is a big deal here, and you can’t deny it’s really wonderful to see three big guys hyping up their club – women’s and men’s side alike. 

Pedro looks at you like he knows you’re about to crumble.

“They better win then”, you agree, pretending it takes a lot of thinking.

They wrap you in a group hug so welcoming you don’t have the heart to tell them the restaurant can’t really afford to pay out an entire party right now, on a weekend, literally planned for a football team and their mothers. 

You’ll make sure the numbers check out later.

You meet Alexia that same night.

Alba makes the introductions, and you shake her hand a moment too late and too long than socially acceptable.

You’re busy shifting your gaze back and forth. 

They look alike. A lot. But somehow, they’re also so different.

You make a mental note to dig up some old pictures of a younger version of yourself and your brother.

“She’s the reason this party won’t bankrupt the guys”

“I’ve heard only good things about you”, Alexia admits.

If a slight redness tints your face it’s due to the compliments, not the feeling of her eyes on you, or the way your body seems to jolt awake.

“All lies, probably”, you try to compose yourself – get a fucking grip, “They’re just impressed ‘cus they can’t count to save their lives”

The laugh that leaves the older woman’s lips is the most melodic sound you’ve ever heard. Something in the way her face lights up and her features relax makes your chest ache with a surprisingly comfortable feeling.

A desire to make her laugh again.

And that is what you do all night.

The girls are way too excited – deservedly so, after another title added to their already impressive collection. The live music is loud, the food and the drinks come in flows. You’re too busy to mentally estimate the costs.

When one of Alexia’s teammates decides you’re her new favorite person in the whole restaurant, you’re perfectly fine with it. Just because she’s funny, not because she seems to have an impressive amount of stories to tease her captain with.

When Paul hands you another beer, you sip it without a care of keeping count. Just because you’re allowed to get loose, not because you noticed Alexia is making sure everyone will not regret a drink too much tomorrow. 

When Alba drags you to the makeshift dance floor, you let yourself feel the music and the bodies around. Just because the party is definitely worth it, vibrant, not because her sister joins the group at the same time.

You go home, much later than intended, with an unfamiliar feeling prickling beneath your skin and a somehow familiar pair of eyes stuck in your head.

~

The first time you end up in the stands for a football game is purely by accident.

An unmistakable electric buzz fills the air, lingering all the way from the parking lot to the seats that seem to keep filling. Everyone is smiling and chanting, sporting just two different colours but expressing their support in an unique way. 

The games you endured watching on TV to spend a few hours with your brother as a kid can’t compare to the real thing.

You never imagined finding yourself in such a place, but when in Rome. Or, well, when in Barcelona.

It’s all on the Putella sisters, to be honest.

You meet Alba in the most unusual place you could think of, or being yourself in the first place. A sports shop.

Planning to go on the hike a stranger at the restaurant pointed out, you need appropriate trekking shoes. Since the decluttering phase is officially over, you looked up one of those obnoxious places that sell overpriced sports-related shit.

Not the kind of shop you’d picture Alba willingly entering.

“Mind you, I actually like sports”, she objects.

“Do you?”

She giggles as your head tilts in a mocking way, “Vale, I like watching more than doing the sports”

“No way!”

The bags she’s dragging out of the shop are the only thing stopping her from not-so-playfully smacking you. It’s surprisingly easy to tease each other.

She reminds you of Elena, who called this morning to discuss how to act now she discovered where her boyfriend hides the ring. As if she hasn’t been snooping around for months.

Not entirely her fault, the poor guy left the jewelry’s receipt with the car keys at the entrance.

“Are you?”, the younger woman asks.

“What?”

“A sports person”

“My brother used to kick footballs at me when we were kids, the only sport I ever pretended to be remotely interest in”

Her smile dims slightly.

For some reason, that seems to have been the wrong thing to say.

“Have you been to a Barça game yet?”

“What if I’m a Madridista?”

That’s even worse, apparently, since Alba dramatically drops the bags to gasp in shock. Her acting of a heartbreak is surprisingly convincing.

A second voice chimes in out of nowhere, “Don’t even joke about it”

Alexia’s comment is dead serious, you can tell, with just the hint of a grin on her lips as a clear giveaway that she’s more than comfortable teasing a person she barely knows.

You’re definitely not going to complain.

The hat she’s wearing hides half her face, but you can see her lighting up behind it.

“What if I’m not joking?”

“Alba, you said she is a nice person”, the midfielder complains, a huff escaping her lips as she adjusts the weight of the bags she’s carrying. 

Did they just raid the whole shop?

“Bold to you to assume I can’t be a nice person and a Madridista”

“Please, don’t fight her on this, she’s gonna be insufferable”, Alba complains, playfully rolling her eyes at her sister’s antics and your teasing.

“No, she needs to be educated. She’s coming to El Clásico with us”

As simple as that.

You find yourself in the home section of the stadium for one of the most anticipated games of the season.

Or that’s what Alexia is ranting about all the way to your seats, going off about the rivalry and basic football knowledge you have to thank your borther for drilling into your brain against your will.

It’s all worth it when her blush spreads across her face as she realises, in the middle of her fourth attempt to explain with yet another example, that you actually do know what offside is.

Alba watches the interaction closely, amused by how easy it is for you to tease Barcelana’s captain and how comfortable she seems to be around you, despite not having known each other for long.

A couple of minutes before kick-off, Alexia returns from wherever she went – one mission in mind. She takes her place on your side, handing you a Blaugrana jersey, “You can’t sit here without wearing the right colours”

Maybe wearing a white t-shirt was a bit too much.

You burst out laughing, opting to put in the item immediately to avoid upsetting the filled seats around you, “How’d you find your own at a men’s game?”

“I happen to be pretty beloved around here”

“Did you hear that, Alba? La Reina is bragging!”

The only reason she doesn’t retort is due to the referee’s whistle announcing the start of the game, followed by a surprisingly enjoyable night with the two sisters.

~

Summer in Barcelona is nothing like you pictured it.

The streets are filled with tourists, too many people crammed in too little spaces. Complaints about the crowds and the chaos drown out any excitement. You have to remind Pedro that it’s awful, but it’s good for business.

Sometimes, it’s too hot to even think of leaving the comfort of your place. Fans blow in every room because, of course, the air conditioner broke the day it was turned on. 

Sometimes, it’s so loud you don’t need to ignore the voices of doubt in your head, subdued by everything that’s happening around you.

Sometimes, it’s exactly the kind of life you can see yourself living.

Your brother came to visit for a week, spending more time teasing you with Ricardo than doing anything else. You hate it, but you missed him too much to complain.

Maybe you pulled some strings to make his dream of visiting Camp Nou come true, just so you could look cool, but then what?

He’s as happy as a kid in a candy store, and all you have to do is endure an overexcited guided tour and bribe Alexia with overpriced drinks the night after. Totally manageable.

Your therapist announces her vacation like it’s not the worst news she’ll be sharing, leaving you with tasks to occupy the time. You dutifully completed them all, never quite managing to shake the nerd label off, and, quite frankly, you pay her too much to not do her homework.

Some tasks seem a little over the top, though – signing up for a dating app is definitely not how you’ll get over your ex.

You started hanging out with a group of passionate excursionists. Perhaps a bit too excited about life in general, but nice enough to follow during their hikes.

Pedro joins when he can, most of the time, someone from the Barcelona team manages to invite themselves. 

Since you and María aren’t allowed to be on your own, Ingrid or Esme supervise. It may be an overreaction, but the last time you two were alone, you sprained your ankle and the defender got nasty cuts on her legs before the trip even started, so you can’t really judge them. 

If you say Alexia is a better hike partner than most is just to piss María.

That summer in Barcelona makes you miss your family and friends back home a little more than usual, but it’s also the first time in months that you feel like you’re actually living your life – not just letting it flow right through you. 

~

When the new school year starts, Irene and her wife come to the restaurant a couple of times before Paul suggests that you could be the perfect person to help their son with his math homework.

Your attempt to explain that you really are not qualified to teach in a different language goes completely ignored.

They’ve already tried different tutors, and Mateo seems to hate them all. You accept, mostly because of the kid’s puppy-dog eyes.

The two of you fell into an easy routine. Once a week, he would lend you basic grammar school manuals and children’s books to help with your Spanish, and you would explain math to him in the simplest way possible.

It goes well.

Mateo decides pretty soon you’re his new favourite person, and you basically become one of Irene’s as well.

That’s how you find yourself on the sideline during a Barça training session, reading a book about a dog that doesn’t know how to bark while Mateo is too pleased with himself, checking all the math exercises he nailed. 

“Good one?”

You raise your gaze, shielding your eyes from the sun enough to point out Alexia’s silhouette.

The weather is still too warm for your comfort, making you question the girls’ mental stability for running lap after lap under such conditions with a smile on their faces. 

Sports people are scary.

“You look too good to be someone who just finished training”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Derogatory”, you clarify, pushing your stuff aside so that Alexia can sit beside you on the sideline. 

She’s drinking some sort of sport drink like she’s just eaten sand, and this close, she looks human. She’s grinning, enjoying the sun picking at her skin and Mateo’s passionate explanation of the math exercises he’s done all by himself.

The training session is wrapped up, she stays until Irene comes back from the changing room, washed and dressed, ready to take the little boy home.

The blonde lingers a bit longer, talking about books she loved growing up and how she takes management courses when she can. You find out Penélope Cruz is both your favourite actress, but the midfielder acts shocked when you tell her you haven’t watched her favourite film. 

That night, you put it on and change the language setting, live-texting Alexia all your reactions.

Halfway through, you’re pretty sure she’s watching it too.

~

Almost nine months after booking that life-changing one-way ticket to Barcelona, you buy another one to go back home.

With a return ticket in hand.

It’s your mother’s birthday, so you kind of have to.

Recently, she’s been repeating a new favorite line, rambling about the uncertainty of life and the precariousness of old age. She’s barely in her 60s and has less back pain than most people of your generation, but she’s not willing to listen to reason. 

You come to the conclusion you can’t lose any more points against your brother in the unspoken sibling race for your parent’s love. So you book the flight, pack a suitcase big enough, because you literally have nothing to wear left behind, and mentally prepare for the investigation your family will conduct. 

The tension in your shoulder melts away the moment your brother wraps his arms around you in the airport terminal. 

“You grow up so much”

And, just like that, he’s your annoying, stupid older brother again.

“I didn’t miss you at all”

“I can see you holding back tears”

“You’re literally crying!”, you accuse with a grin on your lips, lightly punching him.

“Just wait until mum sees that new tattoo”

The truth is, your mother is too busy peering deep into your soul to care about the tattoo. 

It takes two days of constant reassurance that you’re working, eating, and sleeping properly; a ceramic salamander figurine – maybe overpriced, but a gift meant to make an impression; and Elena backing up your story to calm her worries.

Barely enough to get you through the rest of the week unstretched.

“She’s just worried”, your best friend tries to reason, sipping a flashy pink drink that you’re not even sure is made from real fruit.

“I moved to Barcelona, not a war zone”

“Oh, so now it’s permanent?”

The shit-eating grin spreading across her face should annoy you, but you have to admit she has a point.

At first it was just an impulsive decision, an urge to run away from everything and everyone. Then, without really realising it, the Catalan city started to feel a lot like a place to settle in, to let your wings spread wide open.

Now you almost call it home.

The waitress interrupts your flow of thoughts, saving you from Elena’s pointed gaze long enough to be properly distracted by the huge amount of food presented. He leaves with a charming smile, but you’re genuinely too focused on the salty chips to notice.

“Are you pregnant?”, you ask, looking as she almost chokes to avoid comically spilling her drink on you.

“The Spanish heat fried your brain?”

“What? You didn’t even have soft drink when we were underage”

Elena pauses for a moment, weighting if knocking over you the rest of the pink beverage could be worth it. It takes genuine pondering.

She decides to take the highest road.

“Are you dying?”

“Are you taking comedy classes in Barcelona?”

The last time your best friend was this over the edge it was because of a pregnancy scare. First year of university, and her boyfriend at time wasn’t really the guy you’d take home for Christmas. A memory that doesn’t help her case right now.

You slip under the dim lights of the bar, a classy spot where she hangs out with the women from her pilates class. A shiver runs down your back, a bad feeling overcoming deep inside you. 

Then, she speaks up.

“I’ve already bought a wedding dress”, she admits, as if she’s confessing a crime, “It’s a size smaller and I have to–”

“Elena, for fuck’s sake, I thought you were actually dying!”

“It is, indeed, a tragedy”

“He hasn’t even proposed yet”

“Details”, she chugs the rest of the drink, smirking and grabbing the last chips you’re too shocked to care about.

The same waitress hovers around your table, drawn in by the loud exchange and your clear distress, “Excuse me, is everything okay?”

He’s young, charming enough for this to be just a gig while he waits and hopes for his acting career to take off. However, he looks genuinely concerned, his gaze shifting between the deep frown and your friend amused grin.

“All good, she’s just dramatic”, Elena points at you with the straw, before delivering the final blow, “And she is single”

The poor boy’s face lights up, naively thinking the commotion was a creative way to play matchmaker.

What a mistake.

You don’t even dignify her with a glance, rolling your eyes before addressing him directly, “Excuse her, she’s panicking because her long-time, overly in-love boyfriend still hasn’t popped the question”

“That’s not–”

“And I’m not interested”, you finish, kind but firm.

He leaves with a nod, cheeks slightly red.

Elena watches him disappear as you sip your own drink, studying you the way she used to when you were confused teenagers who didn’t know how to deal properly with all those feelings and real-life emotions.

“Oh”

The reason you still encourage her goes beyond your understanding.

You’re not starting to question it now, “What?”

“You like someone”

“Elena, I swear–”

“No, no, it’s just–”, her gaze softens as she looks at you, teasing and playful attitude making space for her most supportive side, “It’s good to see you, you know, welcoming back some happiness”

It doesn’t matter how she’s always capable of reading you like a book, like you’re a poem she knows by heart but she’s never tired of.

After all the years and the lessons you’ve learned together, it feels so comforting to know there’s someone out there who deeply understands you. Who truly sees you.

You don’t deny it, you don’t retort to her observation. 

That's not the point right now.

~

You break the promise made to Alba.

Kind of.

It’s early in the morning, the sun has barely risen in the sky, but it’s the perfect time to arrive at the little market. It arrives every two weeks, with vibrant stalls full of everything – though you understand half the things the vendors say. The freshness of the fruit and the unique clothing finds you always manage to come home with are totally worth it.

Alexia is buying vegetables and, judging by the passion she shares with the old lady in front of her, discussing important geopolitical questions.

You enjoy the exchange, taking a moment before approaching.

She jokes about the fact you’re up before the clock even hits double digits, laughing at your retort about fighting with the elderly over groceries. 

The footballer suggests breakfast in a cosy place not far from the market, the promise of fresh bakeries enough to convince you.

It’s not a date.

But you walk side by side, bags lightly colliding sometimes, and before you know it, you’ve arrived at the café. Alexia holds the door open, pointing out her favorite pastries. She scoffs, unamused, when she realizes your questions distracted her long enough for you to pay for both your orders.

It’s not a date, obviously.

But you sit at a table in the far corner of the café for almost three hours, talking about everything and nothing. The bubble you find yourself in bursts when Ricardo calls, complaining that you’re late for lunch, despite insisting on making a reservation.

“We should do this again”, she says as she hugs you goodbye, a smile lighting her entire face.

It’s not a date, but it definitely feels like it.

You remembered the promise you made to Alba, to save your first date for her once you feel ready, just a second after realising how badly you wish to go on a real one with her sister.

~

You refuse categorically to celebrate your birthday at the boys’ restaurant.

They could make a big deal out of it, insist on paying for everything, and you couldn’t let that happen. After months of knowing them and the “Barcelona way” of celebrating loved ones, you can’t let them be in charge of this. 

Also, the bills are finally adding up. They can afford it, you can’t let them do it – at least, not emotionally speaking.

So you host a little party at your place – your place, because Ricardo says you basically own it as much as he does after the bathroom’s makeover. 

The small kitchen quickly turns into chaos the moment Paco takes charge and ropes Ricardo into helping. Pedro shows up with decorations and a banner that was most likely used for his little sister’s. Paul, however, closes the restaurant that same afternoon, brushing off your protests and reassuring you that your birthday is more important than the evening’s earnings.

You can’t find it in yourself to fight them.

The apartment fills with laughter and a vibrant energy that eases the weight pressing on your chest when overthinking takes hold. Balloons cover nearly the entire floor, raised voices and the scent of spices travel from the kitchen. 

Your friends from the hiking group arrive in waves, immediately hitting it off with some of Barcelona’s team. You’ve grown close to a few of them through your relationship with Irene’s family and the one Ingrid and Frido practically forced on you.

Some regular customers from the restaurant also show up, people you’ve grown pretty comfortable with after spending so much time there during the first weeks of taking over the accounting job.

There’s also a nice girl you met at a concert, who Elena stalks on social media to make sure she’s not a serial killer.

Alba and Alexia are the last ones to arrive.

Your life in Barcelona is full of new people, new experiences and adventures.

At your lowest point, you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be loved out loud.

And those people are the loudest you ever met.

The noise around the apartment subsides just as most of the guests leave. The music is turned down to a minimum, because of the late hour and Pedro’s questionable taste, as he hasn’t let go of the speaker once all night.

The small group gathers around the couch, drinks in hand, still willing to celebrate with you. 

“I’m just saying, I think they taste the same”

The entire room erupts in protests at Ricardo’s comment.

“Absolutely no”, Pedro chimes in, seated on the edge of the armchair with a half-drunk beer in hand, “Black olives are made to be a pizza topping, green ones are perfect for everything else”

“What do you even know about pizza topping?”, you interrupt with a grin, “You put pineapple on yours”

Somehow, the complaints grew louder, the room buzzing with indignation.

“What’s wrong with that? Pineapple is a great pizza topic, you’re just too pretentious to admit it!”

“Can we move on from the pizza argument?”

“Oh, no, let’s get into it!”, you wave your hand dismissively, “Pedro, please, tell everyone what you put on first, cheese or sauce?”

“Fuck you”

“You work in a restaurant”, Alba says, her voice laced with disbelief. 

“I’m not the one cooking, am I?”

“Thank God!”

The conversation quickly turns on poor Pedro, who now finds himself defending his questionable taste and own belief.

Alexia, who’s been quietly sipping from her glass, looks at the scene with a raised eyebrow before turning to you, relaxed on the couch beside her, “Honestly, I never imagined pizza to be the thing that ends a friendship”

“I’m just happy we’re not talking about pineapple anymore, that’s a sin”

“You started this”, she points out, giggling. 

Ricardo shrugs from his spot on the floor, amused but staying out of it for now. 

“It’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want”

“Oh, por favor”, Alexia says with a playful roll of her eyes, nudging the paper crown still perched on your head, “This must have cut off circulation to your brain”

You gasp, your dramatic antics in full display, fueled by the time, the alcohol, and, likely, the footballer’s shoulder still brushing against yours.

“You’re just jealous you’re not the only reina in the room”

“Keep dreaming”, Alexia responds with a grin.

The proximity lingers in a way that’s not just playful. It’s comfortable, like an inside joke no one else is allowed in on.

Ricardo watches the interaction from the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering on you and the blonde for a moment longer than necessary. He notices how her cheeks redden slightly, the way you look a little different – softer, at ease.

Alba catches the moment too, still pretending to be involved in the pizza argument. She notices the quiet exchanges and private moments that have unfolded all evening. The way you and her sister have fallen into a different rhythm, a different world.

She’s seen it before.

There’s something between you two, something unspoken, but not quite hidden. She wonders how long it’s been there, how long it’s been that way.

But, like Ricardo, she keeps her thoughts to herself.

The rest of the group laughs, the debate seems to fade into a more relaxed conversation that doesn’t involve food or questionable life choices.

As the night goes on, the teasing continues, but, underneath the surface, there’s something deeper.

There’s the way you lean in a little closer to Alexia when someone says something ridiculous, how your eyes linger on her when Pedro makes a joke and you think no one is watching.

There’s the way Alexia’s knee brushes yours when you laugh, how her fingers dance on your arm simply because you’re close enough to.

There’s the exchange of gazes and smiles, quiet signs of complicity in the loud room.

~

Ricardo waits to the tune of three days before cornering you.

You mention being a bit homesick after your birthday and the Putellas sisters literally drag you to have dinner with them at their mom’s. Eli is the sweetest woman ever, going above and beyond to the point of making that one pie you mentioned once being your favourite. 

The house is filled with memories and tender gestures, a haven of support and a desire of caring for your own that squeezes your heart with a bittersweet beauty. Spending the night there makes it clear how Alexia and Alba were raised, revealing the roots of their kindness.

“You had fun?”

It’s a miracle you don’t drop dead on the floor right there, Ricardo’s voice echoing from the middle of the couch in the dark room.

“Why are you lurking like a fucking killer?”, you shout at him when your heartbeat slows down enough to let you come up with proper words.

“I was waiting for you”

You don’t even dignify him with a response, watching how he’s sipping from a mug like a scene from the shittiest b-movie you can think of.

Crossing the room to sleep the unease away, the guy’s next words make you stop right where you are, “You need to come clean with her”

“What are you talking about–”

“You like Alexia”

It’s not a question, there’s no doubt in his voice.

There’s not a single reason to even try to fight his assumption or your own overthinking.

You reach for the seat next to him on the couch, noticing the second mug just when he offers it to you. It’s a fruity tea you enjoy hot, with way too much honey and not a drop of milk – exactly like the one in your hands. 

The silence wrapping around is comforting in a way that makes sense just because it’s the two of you, sipping tea in the quiet darkness of the room.

“I do”, you admit after a while, even if you don’t need to. 

“I know”

“That obvious?”

“Yeah”, your roommate confirms with a soft smile.

He doesn’t tease, he doesn’t accuse you of anything.

It’s so typically Ricardo that you feel a surge of affection, a need to embrace him and accepting the support of someone who, in a twisted and brotherly way, looks out for you – and your heart. So you do just that, jumping into his arms without a care of your reputation or of the almost-empty mugs.

The man, despite the surprise of your reaction, is ready to hold you for how long you need.

Turns out, you need it a lot.

“Sorry, sorry”, you say after a couple of minute, trying to pull yourself together, “I didn’t see it coming”

“Me being so observant and clever or you falling in love with Alexia?”

“I’m not in love with Alexia”

“Yet”

He’s lucky the tea is not hot anymore.

“I’m not in love with Alexia”, you repeat. 

Not yet, resonates in your head – your own mind betraying you. 

Yes, Alexia is beautiful. Yes, you two apparently clicked perfectly right the moment you met. Yes, recently the time together doubled the time spent with anyone else. You can admit you like Alexia, the therapy is worth the commitment and the money put into it. 

But being in love?

It’s a good feeling, the one that makes her cheeks flush crimson when your smile catches her gazing. Even better, the one that fills you with pride when Alexia’s laugh resonates in the room because of something you say or do. 

It’s an exciting force, the one that unsettles your stomach when she reaches for you just for the sake of touching – of feeling you close. Even better, the one that makes you two sure of finding the other in a room full of people just when needed. 

It’s so terrifying close to love, what it’s blossoming.

You want to fall in love with Alexia.

Ricardo raises from the couch, taking the mugs and putting them on the sink to be dealt with tomorrow. An annoying habit you’re sure he keeps up with just to annoy you.

He returns a minute later, “Are you going to do something about it?”

You don’t miss a bit, “Yes”

“Let Alba know first”, he says with a serious note in his voice, “She liked you”

~

The stadium buzzes with the loud roaring of fans and the sharp, clean scent of freshly cut grass under the rain. Barcelona dominates the pitch, their control of the midfield a suffocating grip as the opponents scramble, desperate for a counterattack. 

Between miscalculated slides and short passes, Alexia weaves through defenders in a blur of motion and focused energy. She’s calm when the ball is glued on her feet, sparkling to light, her presence igniting the pitch, as soon as her teammates take over. 

Patri finds her captain just outside the box and you lean forward, smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

You may be new to the whole thing, new in the Blaugrana’s home stands, but you learn quickly and you know exactly what Alexia’s movement means. 

The shot curves perfectly, the stadium exhales a collective gasp as the goalkeeper’s fingertips fail to reach it. The ball hits the bar loudly, the sound echoing before it flies out of the pitch.

Beside you, Alba lets out a whoop, clapping her hands with a grin stretching across her face, “She’s out for blood”

You laugh, not like anyone could disagree.

Barça is winning by three goals, outrunning the defence and shooting as if they need to score at least three more to sleep peacefully tonight. 

The poor goalkeeper will have nightmares for sure.

“She really want to take home that ball”

“She’s playing to impress”, Alba points out, not so subtly.

You chuckle, her remark flying over your head, “She’s just– good, I guess”

“Good? ¡Por favor!”, the younger Putellas scoffs, rolling her eyes, “She’s acting like a ballet dancer out there, doing pirouettes and running around like she has two sets of lungs”

As to prove her sister’s point, Alexia nutmegs another midfielder and executes another perfect movement, clearing the field for Aitana to set up Vicky for a chip goal.

The crowd erupts, but Alba’s attention remains fixed on you.

“¡Mirala!”, she says, pointing at the pitch where the team is hugging and celebrating, “That was another ‘look at me, soy la Reina’ moment!” 

“Your sister is the most competitive person I’ve ever met”

“Competitive? Chica, she’s showing off! And don’t even get me started on the way she keeps looking up here, fixing her hair between plays– It’s ridiculous”

You watch as Barcelona’s bubble dissipates and they get back at their positions, Alexia waves towards your seats, her face illuminated by a radiant grin.

Your cheeks flush slightly, a mixture of amusement and something else.

The game keeps on with the same level of excitement, and even more shots on target. They win narrowly, unconcerned by their soaked clothes, lingering happily in the rain to sign autographs and chat with supporters.

Alexia immediately seeks out you and Alba, trying to embrace you both despite your not-so-playful protests. The damp material of her kit clings, accentuating her defined muscles, and your thoughts stray to less innocent territories.

Alba sends her sister to the changing room, accepting the kiss landed on her forehead and watching as you nod like an idiot when she leaves with the promise to be back in no time, her hand lingering on your arm.

“¡Ay, esto es increíble!”, she interrupts your thought flow, tilting her umbrella just enough for a stream of rain to drop on your face. 

“Alba!”

“You’re not exactly subtle either, ¿sabes?”

The stadium noises fade into a distant hum. The air between you thickens, the playful banter morphing into something more charged and intentional. Your fingers fidget with the edge of your jacket, avoiding the younger woman’s gaze.

“How long have you known?”, you ask.

“The moment I introduced the two of you, idiota!”, she says, her voice teasing, “But I knew for sure at your birthday’s party”

“Nothing happened between us”

Alba’s smile softens, a gentle understanding dawning in her eyes, “I’m not blind and I know my sister pretty well. And honestly? I think it’s cute, you two glow when you’re together. She likes you. A lot. And you like her too"

Your shoulders relax, “I do. I really like her, Alba”

The wave of relief that washes over you is comforting.

You don’t owe her anything, and Alba definitely doesn’t owe you anything. But it’s good to know this love growing between you and Alexia is real, people around you see it too. People you care about support it.

Your smile spreads naturally on your face when you spot Barcelona’s captain approaching, hair still wet but changed in warm clothes.

Alba doesn’t miss it, nudging you with her elbow just before her sister’s close enough to hear, “It’s good you feel ready to date again, and I’m happy it’s her”

~

“I’m going to say it just once, so listen carefully”, you stop in the middle of the road with a stoic face, “Please, don’t make me regret our entire friendship”

The grin on Elena’s lips tells you everything you need to know, but you give her the benefit of the doubt. Because she’s your best friend, because she knows how to behave.

But she’s your best friend, and she’s not going to behave.

Her visit is not unpleasant, just unexpected.

It’s barely six in the morning when loud bangs on the front door wake you up and almost scare Ricardo to death. He takes it well enough, greeting Elena and going back to sleep the shock away. You, on the other hand, think of leaving her waiting outside until it’s socially acceptable to show up. Her immediate embrace is a clever attempt to smooth your annoyance.

She booked a red-eye flight for a hit and run, so you take her around Barcelona all day and agree to a late night out in a club Alba suggested you join with some of her friends.

“Relax”, she says, skipping steps like a kid as you approach the place.

“Elena, I’m serious”

“Why are you so stressed? Oh– oh, I know!”

She turns around in her heels, too graciously for someone with shoes so high and such low alcohol tolerance – you two may not be in your early 20s anymore, but you figured pregame was necessary this time around.

Her good resolution of not drinking alcohol crumbled as soundly as it started.

“Is she here too?”

“I don’t know what–”

“This mysterious woman you can’t shut up about, who is so great you have heart-shaped eyes but I can’t know her name”, she interrupts, grabbing you by the shoulder as you approach the club’s entrance. 

It’s not like you’re hiding Alexia, or your feelings for her.

She’s a frequent topic of conversation with your best friend, you’re comfortable sharing the moments between the two of you and the way your heart beats at a completely different rhythm around the Barcelona’s captain.

But Elena can be protective, and curious.

All she needs is a name, and she’s going to find out if Alexia has ever got a bad grade in primary school. The teasing for liking a football player? You aren’t ready for that either.

“Yes, she’s here and I need you to–”

“This is the best day of my life!”, she doesn’t even let you finish, leaves you right there, flashing the bodyguard at the entrance a huge smile and sweet talking her way in – even though they have your names as vip guests.

“This is going to be the worst day of mine”, you mutter to yourself, following after her.

The energy in the club is charged with a dangerous combination of freewill and alcohol. The place is packed and colored lights go on and off with the music, bright enough to see who’s in front of you, but not enough to make your decision clear. Not tonight.

Alba sees you first, waving her hand to catch your attention so you join them in a secluded table in a corner of the place.

You don’t even ask how Elena is already seated in the cool leather booth, talking animatedly.

“She’s funny”, Alba comments after greeting you with a hug.

“Don’t believe a word she says”

The younger girl’s laugh mixes with your best friend’s, and you know your fate is sealed when a guy hands her a drink. 

You look around the table, noticing some people from Alba’s close circle and some you met in passing at the restaurant or at a Barcelona’s game.

“She’s in the bathroom”

Your body betrays you before a coherent thought can leave your brain, your cheeks redding to the tips of your ears. 

“Told you, you’re not subtle”, Alba comments, too amused at your reaction.

As if she knows you’re talking about her, as if a magnetic energy forces your body to get closer and closer, Alexia’s gaze locks with yours as she approaches the table, followed by a vaguely familiar face.

She greets you with a dimpled smile and a welcoming hug, it may look like months passed but it’s been a matter of days. The black top she’s wearing emphasizes her toned stomach, and your fingers itch to trace the subtle sheen of sweat crossing her back – a sign she’s been dancing for a while now. 

You’re fashionably late, regardless of the time Alba suggested you to be here. Spanish people are stragglers, you have learned it at your own expense.

“Are you ready?”, the footballer asks.

“For what?”

“You owe me a dance”

“Absolutely not!”, you protest, trying to escape her hug.

“Oh, yes”, she smile, her arm around your waist dragging you even closer, “You made fun of my dancing moves, now you have to prove yours”

Next time, you will think twice before sending the blonde every single comment you found online about a TikTok video one of her teammates posted after a huge win. In your defence, you find it very cute.

The dance floor is filled with people, dancing in fluid movements like you learned Spaniard are comfortable with. A sea of arms fling around, bodies smoothly moving to feel each other. The music vibrates with a bass so deep that your ribs pulses at the same rhythm.

Alexia guides you in a less crowded section, far enough from the table so Alba and Elena can study every single movement, but out of earshot. 

You try to ignore the thought of your best friend gossiping with Alba.

Thinking, however, is the last thing you do when Alexia’s hand finds the small of your back, skin waking up by the slight hint of touch.

It doesn’t really matter how you managed to get this close, how the music runs through your bodies with an unmistakable energy and desire to get even closer. Your arms rise to frame the blonde’s face, her grin growing as soon as she notices your reaction.

It’s not like either of you is hiding the attraction, the pulsing needs to be together. To talk, to touch, to be around one another. It’s always been there, you just never acted on it.

“Are they like that all the time?”, Elena asks, still studying the way you seem to speak a different language with Alexia.

“I’m thinking about locking them somewhere until they kiss or whatever”

The disbelief is clear in Elena’s voice, “Are you sure they haven’t kissed yet?”

“If I know my sister, she must be really fucking scared”

“If I know my best friend, she must be really fucking stupid”

The two nod before bursting in a loud laugh, clicking their glasses. 

Almost an half an hour later, you find them like that, giggling and talking as if they have known each other for years and not just met. Alexia raises an eyebrow, silently questioning if she needs to hold back Alba’s enthusiasm – Elena is matching it without a problem, and that’s what really worries you. 

“And that’s how she ended up with the sister of her blind date”

“That’s not how it happened, at all”, you complain, hitting your best friend’s arm as she decide telling the worst stories possible is the best way to spend the night.

“Must have been a great date”, someone jokes.

“I’m a fantastic date, thank you so much”

“I can confirm”, Alba says with a teasing grin, raising her empty glass as you flip her off with an equally open smile on your lips.

Alexia, on the other hand, straightens up a bit at the exchange, switches her gaze between the two of you, almost taken aback, “You two dated?”

“I told you”, the younger girl retorts.

“I thought you were messing with me”

The change in her posture is subtle, but you’re close enough to feel it. Close enough to notice the way she moves her knee, breaking contact with yours, her fingers toying with the ring on her pinky.

Alba is a bit too drunk to pay attention to the footballer’s dampened mood, not affected anymore by that one date with you so long ago.

She told her sister about it when she first clocked in her interest for you, hoping to clear the way for her to do something about it – a sort of blessing.

Turns out, Alexia’s so sure she was teasing her, lying about it just to annoy her.

Thankfully, your best friend reads in your face the panic and drifts the conversation on a completely different topic. 

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughs, questionable drinking choices, and more dancing. 

Every single attempt of catching Alexia’s eyes fails miserably. She’s not ignoring you, she doesn’t leave her seat next to you, and her touch is light but grounding. Your mind, however, spirals in a way it hasn’t in months.

It’s late when the group decides to call it a day, stumbling out into the cool, damp air of Barcelona. No one is sober enough to even think of driving, the decision to summon taxis rather than risk the roads is unanimous. 

A strange intimacy settled inside the car. You and Alexia sit in the back, while Alba, in the middle, sleeps on the older woman’s shoulder with soft snores. Elena is deep in conversation with the Catalan driver, despite not speaking a word of the language. The city lights flash outside, blurred by a light drizzle that you trace with a finger against the window.

Upon reaching Alexia’s apartment, you insist on helping her carry her sister inside, ignoring her half-hearted protests. Your best friend, armed with a winning smile and a ‘thank me later’ attitude, somehow manages to convince the driver to wait for you outside.

The place is quiet when you enter, amplifying the tension that crackled between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s never uncomfortable.

You and Alexia carefully settle Alba onto the bed, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows across the guest room. Each gentle adjustment of her sister’s blanket, each soft whisper to ensure her comfort, stretched out the delicate balance. 

It’s minutes later, right by the front door, that something snaps.

Before you can reach the handle on the way out, the footballer’s fingers wrap around your wrist.

There’s urgency in the way her body feels stirred by an electric discharge all of a sudden, her voice low, “You dated?”

“What?”, your confusion is mostly prompted by Alexia’s distressed tone.

“You dated my sister?”

“No, we– I mean, we went out like one time and I was, clearly, still fucked up by my ex– It’s not like we actually dated or something”

“She said–”

“She was joking”, your hands cupping the blonde’s face seems to do wonder at calming her, but you still feel the need to clarify the situation, “I kissed her, once, then found a good therapist and said to her I wasn’t interested like that”

“Are you interested like that?”

“Alexia, I just said–”

“No, no”, she interrupts shyly, never dropping her gaze, “Are you interested in me like that?”

Despite the voices still filling doubts in your head, kissing her is the easiest, most natural thing to do at that moment. 

Her lips are soft, warm, and taste faintly of sweet drinks. Her breath mingled with yours, a shared rhythm in the quiet intimacy of the kiss.

A current of interest, desire, and care pulls you closer. There’s complicity and belonging, mingling with curiosity, and the thrill of uncharted territory.

And there’s Alexia, right in front of you, vulnerable and exposed and trusting enough to lay her emotions in your hands. Making you feel so safe that you don’t even have to think about doing the same.

So you kiss again, trying to convey how sure you are about your feelings. Because the insecurities and the questioning silence when Alexia’s heartbeat syncs with yours and her hand caresses your face.

The sharp honk coming from the taxi outside is the only reason why you separate.

~

The late afternoon sun drapes over the Barcelona streets as you and Alexia stroll, fingers laced together. 

It’s a familiar feeling now, holding hands after a date.

You have explored hidden hikes, shared tapas after her games, and even attended a couple of flamenco lessons. Nothing too different from what you’ve already experienced. 

Except, of course, for the kissing.

And there’s been a lot of that.

Your phone buzzes, interrupting Alexia’s recall of Vicky’s last attempt of convincing her to do another stupid trend. You drop her hand, your fingers flying across the screen, muttering in concentration.

The footballer raises an eyebrow, complaining playfully, “Am I annoying you?”

“It’s this stupid bird!”

“Still fighting with ser y estar?”

“I’m sorry, my Spanish teacher is a tease and gets distracted five minutes after promising to help me study”

“She sounds like an incredible teacher”, she counters, too pleased with herself as she hints at your last private tutoring.

Despite your best effort, the other woman had other plans. The sentences she whispered right at your ear, with a raspy voice and a note of teasing in every single movement of her lips, made your resolution crumble in a matter of minutes. The books, not even opened, fell off the bed with a kick of her foot.

You do, however, learn some new words.

Your cheeks flush at the memory, “Shut up!”

“I said nothing”

You ignore her grin, still welcoming her embrace as she pulls you closer to help with the lesson.

“This app is useless! Why do those Spanish animals always do weird things? It’s making me questioning my entire existence”

“Tan dramática”, Alexia snorts, nudging you with her hip, “Why are you even using that thing? You can learn everything you need from me”

“I’m trying to actually learn something here”, you retort, faking annoyance, “Besides, you’re not always available for Spanish lessons. I want to get better, impress the locals”

“After more than a year?”

“Never too late”, you grin, “Just wait, I’ll be ordering in flawless Catalan in less time than it took you to ask me out”

Alexia stops in her tracks at your teasing, taken aback by your admission and by way of calling her out for the stalling after the first kiss you shared. She may have needed a little push then, trying to find the best moment to ask you for a real date to just blur it out in the rush of a late game night you attended.

You continue walking, too focused on the lesson to acknowledge the blonde’s momentary pause.

“Wait, I thought you were taking Spanish lessons”

“Yes, from you and the stupid bird, but I have an actually tutor for Catalan”

“You’re learning Catalan?”

“I live in Barcelona”, you say, matter of factly, but the flush creeping up on your cheeks betrays you.

The truth hangs in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken. It isn’t about fitting in, not anymore. It’s about her.

To understand her better, wrapping deeply into the fabric of her world. It’s commitment, to the city and to a future that you can’t picture without her in. It’s a promise, somehow, to bridge any gap and to learn her culture, her soul. 

Alexia’s gaze lingers, the weight of your growing feelings both exhilarating and inevitable.

She told herself she set a pace comfortable for you, respecting your need to get better with loving yourself and trusting others.

But you’ve been ready for this love for quite some time now.

The way you open up with her, hold her after a long day, and gently kiss the creases around her lips when she smiles. The way you not just proudly wear your heart on your sleeve, but you hand out your emotions to be seen. The way you make her feel safe enough to be vulnerable, to be taken care of. 

The way you’re learning to love her by learning to love everything that makes her who she is.

A nervous flutter, like trapped butterflies, stirred in your stomach as Alexia catches up to you. You could feel the energy radiating from her, the subtle scent of her perfume, a mix of wood and something undeniably her.

“Estic enamorada de tu”, she confesses, cheeks slightly tinted but her voice so firm, so sure. 

“I know what that means”

A smile, genuine and carefree, grows on both your lips. You study her face for a moment, finding nothing but pure care and a force that feels like arms keeping you safe and warm.

Nothing but love. 

The way you kiss her is almost too intense for a late afternoon in the streets of Barcelona, but barely enough to convey all the emotions that you discovered and learned to welcome in your life again. 

You may not be ready to say out loud you’re falling in love with her too, not yet. But the firmness of your hands on her face, the happiness lightning in your eyes, the resolution conveyed by your kiss.

She knows.

~

On the day you declare the restaurant officially debt free, Paco lifts you up off the ground, spins you around with ease and plants a loud kiss on your forehead.

Paul’s reaction is a bit tamed, even if he declares he’s going to name his firstborn after you. Still single and hopeless romantic, you’re not sure how much to read into his words.

Pedro cries, of course he does, but he also hugs you in a way that conveys almost too much not to shed a few tears yourself.

It’s not difficult for you to admit you own them more than they own you. 

Taking care of the restaurant’s ledger and the guys’ enthusiastic opinion about your accounting job opened a lot of small businesses’ doors. The idea of opening your own office never even crosses your mind, not planning on entangling yourself in a structured system anytime soon. The new apartment you rent has a small room that works just fine as a study.

You will still keep an eye on them, though, not sure enough your finance lessons really drilled in their heads. 

“So, you’re finally letting us treat you with dinner?”, Paul asks, serving you up with way too many pleasantries. 

“I already have someone who pays for me”, you retort, playful smirk on your lips.

“¡Ay, I thought you were taking me out tonight!”, Alexia complains next to you, keeping up with the joke as she pretends to not be interested in the food anymore. She can be such a dork.

“Wait, am I crushing a date?”, Alba intercepts from the other side of the table.

“You’ve been crushing our dates since the day we met!”

The laughs that erupt are loud enough to catch the attention of the other patrons, thankfully not really annoyed by the chaos. The truth is that, despite being a menace of a group, it is not like you can drag your friends in any other place without the risk of getting banned forever. 

It’s a familiar scene. The restaurant feels like a second home now, one that you built on your own around people that truly see you, support you and never miss a chance to tease you.

So you shake your head at Ricardo’s antics and glare at Alexia when she keeps teasing her sister, effortlessly distracting her with light movements of your fingers on her knee. 

The conversation flows between shared memories and inside jokes, carrying the night away until your table is the only one left. Not planning on leaving the place anytime soon. And as you sit there, surrounded by your friends, questionable recalling of stories, and the magnetic pull of Alexia’s presence, you just know that this is it. 

This is your life, your love, your chosen family.

Then Pedro has to ruin the moment, persuading everyone you have to make a toast for whatever reason. You try to fight it, embarrassed and quite frankly taken aback by the respect and genuine admiration this people seems to feel for you. 

A subtle nod of your girlfriend’s head, her hand finding yours beneath the table, is all you need to indulge with their antics.

“To us”, you say, raising a glass, “To finally getting our shit together!”

Laughter and cheers fill the restaurant, everyone congratulating each other for the most random things and joking around as if life could always be this simple.

Alexia’s hold tightens, her eyes meeting yours. Her face lights up in a way that never fails to make your own heart grow. 

“T’estimo”, you whisper, just for her to hear. 

Your love is usually so loud. A love that grows unexpectedly, but burns with a fierce and tender flame. But your promises are quiet. A silent acknowledgment of commitment that goes beyond, that stretches confidently into the future. 

Together.

[81pastrys]

Hi I loved what u did with my Lando guided masturbation requests ur writing is amazing and (bc I'm a freak) I have another if ur up for it 😭 so basically Lando wants reader (his gf) to come with him to training with Jon for company and just so she's healthy and active too but she refuses joking about doing a different type of "cardio" when he gets home. So when he gets home and showers etc they're about to fuck and she's quite happy being bottom and feels like being on top is too much work so Lando does the thing she least expects him to do and that's putting her in top so she can show him her so called "cardio" routine since he knows she never does the work.

Cardi-OH

Summary— She complains about Lando always working out, but admits her favorite working is doing cardio with him.

Warnings— SMUT ; riding ; slight belly bulge kink ; teasing ; back scratching mentioned ; Lando being a little shit

A/N— KEEP. THESE. COMING. I BEG YOU THEY’RE MY FAV

Lando One Shots

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Jon had asked Lando to do some extra training recently to build his shape back up for the upcoming races after winter and he obliged, but someone didn’t like the fact he was gone all the time.

“Baby, you can come with me, you did say you wanted to workout more.” Lando told her when she whined about him about to leave again. “Come on I’ll wait for you, you can do your workouts while I do mine.”

She tilted her head at him. “Lando the only working out I want to do is cardio, with you.” She joked. She laughed at herself and Lando shook his head with a smile. “Lan, I’m serious you never want to after you work out all day.”

“That’s because it’s also a work out baby.” He said. The way that he fucks, yeah it’s a workout in itself. “Well if you aren’t coming with, I’m leaving.” He stated when she didn’t make any intention to change. They said their goodbyes and she went on with her day as normal.

Lando went and did his workouts and was tired as all hell when he got home. Her words were creating thought in his head, not that she wanted to have sex everyday, but the fact he always put in the work when they do have sex. “I’m home.” He called out.

She greeted him not long after with a kiss and light grind, hoping she could get him in the mood. “Can we please?” She asked. He sighed and gave her a quick kiss.

“Can I shower and change?” He asked with a disgusted face. “I’m sweaty and sticky.” She smiled with an innuendo forming on her lips before he kissed her to stop it from spilling out.

He showered while she waited patiently. He dried off and plopped on the bed next to her. She turned to look at him with a cheeky smile. He turned to look at her and smiled back. “I never got an answer from earlier lan.” She teased.

“I don’t mind.” He said, she was giddy and began undressing. She wandered her hands over his body before he stopped her. “If you do the work.” He smiled cheekily now. She absolutely hated riding. Her smile faded and he laughed. “Well you said you wanted to do cardio, show me.”

She would hate to admit he turned her on, but he definitely did. She straddled his hips and kissed him while her hands roamed. His following suit, grasping her boobs the right way to make her breath hitch, or squeezing her hips the way she liked. She brought a hand to test her readiness for him and sure enough she was slick from just making out.

“Need any help?” He asked. He wasn’t going to be entirely mean, just a little. She nodded at him and he replaced her hand with his. He teased her folds, watching her reactions he loved so much. “What’s got you so wet baby?” He asked with a cocky smile.

“You making me do the hard work.” She joked. He slipped two fingers in with ease and she moaned. His other hand steadied her figure with a firm grip as he curled his fingers, bringing her close to the edge. “Your turn to make us feel good yeah?” He slid his fingers out and brought them to his mouth. He gave a teasing slap to her ass and she winced.

“I’m going to have a talk with Jon, because there is no way in hell I’m doing this everyday.” She said before stroking him a few times. She lined him up and slowly lowered herself. Their moans in sync as she bottomed out. She gave an experimental grind and he groaned, his grip tensing on her side making her moan out.

She stayed still, adjusting to his size. His grip loosened and one hand explored her body teasingly slow as she stilled any movement. He pressed on her stomach, making her fold into him. “You feel that?” He asked. “That’s how deep I am baby. Make good use of it.” She moaned as he pressed on her again.

She started slowly grinding, about an inch or two slipping out at a time. She was saving her energy for who knows what. “Fuck lan, you feel so good.” She moaned. She lifted herself higher, only to drop back down and hit her g-spot straight on. A gasp escaped her lips and Lando chuckled, enjoying his view of her struggling on top.

“Yeah? Hitting all the right spots?” He teased. She continued the slow pace, hoping he would crumble under the teasing pace and just fuck into her like she wanted. Lando was patient, not focusing on himself at this given time. He enjoyed watching her.

She realized this too late and her legs were shaking from the position as she wanted to speed up. “Fuck I can’t.” She whined, her legs feeling like jelly as she bounced erratically to chase her high. He felt her thighs quiver on his hips and he rubbed them to soothe her pain.

“You’ve got this baby, keep going.” He praised. “Doing such a good job on top.” Now he was just fucking around and she hated how he had the upper hand. Yes, she was getting what she wanted, but not in the way she wanted it. She felt impossibly close to her orgasm, her movements faltering as her legs shook violently at the unwelcome workout.

“I’m so close, please lan.” She moaned. She rested her upper body on his, hoping that would relieve something, but it did nothing. If anything it made her more needy for him to take over. She panted as her movements halted completely, her legs still violently shaking.

“What’s the matter baby?” He taunted. “I thought you were showing me your cardio?” His hands ran up her sides soothingly as her climax wears away from close to not there at all. She moved from straddling him and groaned at her legs, pain forming from the position.

“I hope you’re happy, neither of us even finished.” She panted next to him, exhausted. He kissed her shoulder and groped her breast again. She had barely any reaction from how tired she was.

“If I kept you on top and said keep going, would you?” He teased. She shook her head in disagreement and he smiled. “That’s what Jon does to me everyday.” He told her. He figured that was enough torment and hovered his body over her, giving in to her desires.

It took about 5 rough thrusts, scratching at his back, and few circles on her clit for her to completely crumble under him.

Safe to say Jon made a comment on the devilish scratch marks on Lando’s back the next day.

Hehe it’s long too

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

[yamumsyadadd]

hidden (2)

part one is here

For the most part, that’s how your relationship went for an entire year. Behind closed doors, hidden away from friends and family. It was truly exhausting.

There was one date out in public, the first and only one you ever went on. When Alexia asked you out, you didn’t even hesitate. The recommendation had come from Jana, it was her favourite hole in the wall restaurant that her and Jill found, she told anyone on the team who would listen.

In terms of first dates, it was awkward, the pressure to do small talk was evident but you both felt well past that. You had seen each other naked and done filthy things to each other before a date was even on the table.

The awkwardness broke when you asked about her foundation and the process of starting it. You leaned forward, fully absorbed into what she was saying. It was like a different side of Alexia was out that night, until she left you there. At the restaurant, alone.

After the waiter politely informed you that it was almost the end of your reservation, you went to the bathroom and Alexia said she’d wait at the front for you. Expect when you returned, she was gone. The waiter informed you that she settled the bill and then left.

It hurt, more than hurt actually. But once you saw Irene and her wife it all made sense.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” Irene’s gaze was intense, looking around for someone who could belong to you.

“Oh Jana finally convinced me to come here.” It wasn’t the best lie, but it was all you could come up with.

“Where is she?”

“Waiting at the car. I needed to use the bathroom, so she said she’d wait at the car, no point staying in here and being uncomfortable, right?”

“Right.” She slowly nodded.

“I better go. I’ll see you tomorrow at training!” you said your goodbyes and then left. Heading towards the carpark so your lie was somewhat more convincing. Alexia’s car was gone, she left. Truly left. No text message, no call, nothing.

Your brain was so confused. In the privacy of your apartment, alexia doted on you. She made you coffee and breakfast, even when she didn’t eat breakfast. But then at training, during the day, you didn’t exist.

As you walked home, a few tears slipped out. Was it your fault that she was like this? Was it how you looked? Were you simply not enough for her? While you walked, you sent Jana a simple message, no details, no fuss. 

If Irene asks, you and I went to dinner tonight.

You thought to yourself that if alexia wanted to pretend you didn’t exist, you would do the same to her. So you did. It only lasted an entire week. It was hard for you to ignore her late-night texts and calls, even harder when she would turn up to your apartment. But she never said anything to your face. At training, you didn’t exist to her expect for as a teammate, and you made sure you treated her the same way.

Sometimes, there was a flash of hurt across her face, it would only last a second or two, but you saw it. It made you feel guilty, sad for her, even if it was the same thing she as doing to you. So on the 7th night, you caved. Answering the door when she arrived fifteen minutes before midnight.

“Why have you been ignoring me amor?”

“Me? Ignoring you?” you couldn’t help the bitter laugh that came out, “Alexia, you pretend I don’t exist outside this apartment? At training? You don’t see me Alexia, really see me.” You didn’t realise that it actually hurt that much until you vocalised it, when she reached out to wipe a few tears that slipped, you let her. “You left me in that restaurant like an idiot. You didn’t call or text. I walked home crying because I thought I did something wrong.”

“No amor you didn’t. I promise. I saw Irene and Lucinda and freaked out. She doesn’t know how I feel about you; how alive you make me feel. I didn’t want her to find out, to try and burst our bubble. I’m sorry, truly I am. I will do better.”

You let her show you how sorry she was over and over again. And over the next two weeks, she did make more of an effort. At training, she didn’t ignore you, but neither of you wanted to outwardly tell your teammates about whatever this was between you two.

For two weeks she made you feel like you were on top of the world. Sending you restaurant ideas and talking openly about you meeting her family. When she asked you to be her girlfriend, officially, you said yes right way under the pretence that things wouldn’t change.

Slowly though, she slipped back into the way she was. When you’d laugh with Jana or Cata, she’d send a dirty look your way, as if you weren’t allowed to have your own friends outside of your relationship. The coldness returned fully after you asked about her family. Her mami and sister were at most of the games, and you simply wanted to meet them.

“no.” alexia didn’t even spare you a glance.

“No? alexia we have been dating for ages, they are always at the games and- “

“no. end of discussion.”

“But why Alexia?”

“Because I said no. why can’t you understand that.”

“I’m trying to understand why you are saying no. what about me makes you so ashamed?”

“Dios Mio, you are so dramatic. You aren’t meeting my friends or my family. End of conversation. If you keep going, then I’m going home.” Your heart broke. She is ashamed of you, but for what reason you didn’t know.

“You should leave.” You said quietly. Feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

“amor- “

“No go home alexia.” You slammed your bedroom door closed, sliding down the back of it and letting yourself cry into your knees. She left quickly after that, slamming the door hard and it caused you to cry even harder.

There was no one you could talk to about this. You’d promised to keep your relationship on the downlow, your friends at home didn’t even know. So you cried yourself to sleep. Alexia was still mad when you arrived at training the next day. Everyone was on edge as their captain stomped around the locker-room.

“God what is her problem today?” Jana said as she sat down next to you.

“Maybe she got dumped?” Esme whispered, you felt your chest tighten. Theres no way that Esme could know, is there? When you went to look up at her, she was already looking at you, eyes soft with pity.

“Maybe.” You said with a shrug, looking back down at the floor.

Alexia stayed mad, all day. You tried to ignore her, to focus on training but that became impossible when you were forced to face her in the final part of training. At first it was fine; she didn’t need to mark you and you were able to keep clear.

Then Jona changed things. With every elbow and every shove you could feel yourself growing more annoyed. By the end of it you decided to play her game, you wouldn’t let her treat you like this. At home or at training.

The tackle was clean, you didn’t make any contact with her body, only the ball. But the sheer force of it forced alexia to stumble, sending her body hurling to the ground.

“What the hell was that!” she screamed in your face.

“Ale, it was a clean tackle.” Irene came in-between the two of you before you had a chance to bit back.

“Bullshit it was!”

“Enough!” Jona’s voice cut through, “trainings done. Everyone go home.”

You all but ran back to the locker-room, not wanting to deal with the questions from your friends nor the wrath from Alexia. You didn’t move fast enough though because she came bonding in.

“What is your problem!”

You scoffed at her, as if she didn’t know she was the cause of it all, “leave me alone alexia.”

“No. you’re behaving like a child! You-“

“A child? Me? I think that’s you. Ever since-“ Irene’s entrance into the locker-room stopped you dead in your tracks, this wasn’t the time nor the place for it. “Forget it. Forget everything Alexia.” You through your bag over your shoulder and left. Ignoring the pleas from Jana and cata to stop.

The fight lasted a few weeks, it wasn’t completely radio silent. You would let her come over when you needed sex but never when she needed it. It wasn’t until right before Christmas break that Alexia came over and wouldn’t leave until you talked to her.

“I’m sorry okay? Im sorry.” She pleaded through the door.

“Go home Alexia.”

“Please let me talk to you and then I’ll go.”

“Talk.” You knew that as soon as she was in front of you, you’d forgive her. You love her too much not too.

“Open the door please.” And you did. Alexia looked like shit, in one hand she held a piece of paper, and the other was tucked safely in her pocket.

You left her standing there in the hallway, walking to the couch and sitting down. For a moment, alexia hesitated. She wrote a letter with everything she wanted to say, but now that she was here, she was scared.

She cleared her throat before starting, “I am incredibly sorry for the way I have treated you for the last four months. You deserved better, the truth is that I’m scared. Because I love you, so much. Every time we are together, I never want to be separated, I want to marry you, to have a family with you. But I can’t be public with this. Not now and maybe not ever.”

“Alexia, not once did I ask you to make this relationship public. I just wanted to be seen by your friends or your family. I wanted to know them, but you refused. Never telling me why and starting fights instead.”

“I know, I know. You can meet them, my sister, Alba, she would love you. My mami too. Please just let me show you.” She came to crouch in front of you, pulling your hands apart and placing hers on top.

“Okay.” You whispered out, getting lost in her hazel eyes as she searched yours.

Her hands cupped your face, and she kissed you hard. There were only a few days between the conversation with Alexia and Christmas break. To be fair to her, she did take you out. It was only to the Barcelona Christmas festival, but to you it was something. She openly held your hand, took photos of you and with you. Laughed and genuinely seemed like she was a changed person.

even over the break, while you were in America and she was in Spain, she called, she texted, she put in effort. To you, alexia had changed, had become the person she promised you.

She kept the promise of introducing you to her sister, it was only brief, but it was enough to satisfy you for now. There was a comment she made, about how it was almost Alexia’s birthday, something you knew, but what you didn’t know was that there was a party planned. A party you weren’t invited to.

There was a part of you that held out hope, that alexia would incite you, but she was just waiting for the right time. But that hope quickly disappeared as you sat there on your couch, on February 4th waiting for your girlfriend to turn up. She had agreed, you would make a nice dinner, give her a present and sex. But as the clock ticked closer to 1am, you realised that you were being stood up.

It was a reoccurring event. Alexia would make a promise, shed break the promise, a fight would ensue and then apologies, she’d change for a few weeks, maybe even a couple of months, but then go back to how it was. You decided, then and there, you’d give her until May, after that, if she hadn’t changed probably, then it was the end.

When may rolled around, you knew what you had to do. It was just about the timing. You didn’t want to go through a breakup in the weeks leading up to the champions league final, but you also didn’t want to continue in this hell scape of a toxic relationship.

Every time you tried, you chickened out. You couldn’t even bring yourself to stop inviting her over. As you stood in your living room, looking at all the odds and ends that Alexia had left in your apartment, a knock sounded.

“Esme?” you were confused, none of the girls had really ever been at your apartment, “Are you ok?”

“I actually came here to ask you that.”

“Come in.” you moved out of the way, letting her lead the way through to your loungeroom. Neither of you spoke for a little bit, Esme was looking around the apartment, probably making note of all of Alexia’s things like you had done mere minutes before her arrival.

“I have a girlfriend.” Esme looked at you, really looked at you, “we have a private relationship. But all our friends know, occasionally we post each other on Instagram but not super often, it’s something we both prefer… but you and alexia are different?”

“How did you know?” You were shocked, truly.

“I live a few doors down. I’ve seen you, in the hallway, in the garage. I’ve heard the fighting too.”

“it’s complicated.” She gave you a look to go on, you took a deep breath and unloaded, “for almost a year we have been in this cycle. I want to meet her family and her friends, but she doesn’t want it. At training, she acts like I don’t exist, but here, at home, it’s like im the only person in the world. I’ve tried, and tried, but it only starts fights and now, well, I’m tired.”

“there’s a difference between a relationship being a secret and hidden. Yours seems to be hidden.”

“It is. I don’t want that. I love Alexia, I love her so much, but all the fighting and making up, I can’t keep going like this.”

“you’re going to back up with her?” you nodded your head, Esme raised her eyebrows, “can you like wait? Until after the champions league? I’d like to win.” You laughed at that, because you too wanted to win.

The champions league final was electric. Something you had never experienced and were so incredibly grateful that you got the chance. By the end of the game, Barcelona were the European champions.

It was probably the high of the win, mixed with the alcohol, but when Alexia pulled you into her side and dragged you to meet her family, you felt almost disgusted. It seemed that you were only now worthy of meeting them because you scored in the final.

As you looked toward Esme, Irene stepped into your line of sight. She did not look happy at all, and you knew she wasn’t a fan of this relationship which made you feel better about ending it.

After the high of the Champions League win and the end of the season looming, you knew it was time. Alexia would stay in South America after the team had left, then going to her own camp to prepare for their first Olympics, you would fly back to America and stay there until it was time.

The plan was simple, you invite Alexia over, break up with her and then lock yourself in your room. But that never worked. Every time she came over, she looked even more beautiful, there was a glow about her, something you couldn’t shattered.

So as you sat on the plane, flying the mere two hours back to LA before international break, you sent her a simple text. You knew it was fair, but she hadn’t been fair for the majority of the relationship.

To Alexia: I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry alexia.

You tucked your phone away, letting the tears fall. Just because it needed to be done doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

[grimmsbride]

touch …. ! ₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣.

mark grayson & rogue!reader ╲ mark grayson doesn’t give a damn what you can do, or how fear hurting him; he would touch you again and again no matter the consequences.

𖥔 ࣪˖ tags⠀⎯ pre-established relationship | angst (ish?) | reader is inspired by rogue from the xmen | given mark is half-viltrumite he doesn’t go into a coma he only passes out for a little | touch-starved reader | suggestive (?) but no smut | mark is cheesy | cute little blurb | fluff

𖥔 ࣪˖ author’s notes⠀⎯ i saw one of my favorite writers do a “starfire!reader” so i was inspired to do something similar with rogue from the xmen given i love her and gambit so much. if this fic is receipted well i may write actual smut about this couple. for now please enjoy and excuse any grammar mistakes <3

A favorite artist of yours murmurs melodies in the background of your bedroom, drown out by the sweet whispers passing between you and your beloved Mark Grayson.

You always enjoyed times like this, simply laying side by side, eyes focused on the other while speaking about anything and everything.

How tiring missions were.

How Mark worried about his mom.

How you worried about your powers.

Nothing was off the table, this little moment in time dedicated to simply catching up with each other.

Your lips curled slowly the moment you felt fingers squeeze around your own, Mark’s digits gliding across your gloved hand whilst your palms pressed against one another’s. You always loved that touch despite the barrier, craving it after a long day.

Since you gained them, you’ve felt like your powers were.. dirty. You didn’t enjoy the looks people gave you when using them, or how some fellow heroes would shy away from you even when wearing your gloves. The outside world didn’t need to remind you how cursed you were, you did so yourself everyday.

But being with Mark, he never saw you as your power, as some weapon used to suck the life out of others. He only ever saw you, his girlfriend that he would do anything for.

Even when that anything was just a little stupid.

You giggled softly at the joke that passed his lips, eyes pinched closed for a moment before popping open when you felt his hand move. The man attempted to be subtle, yet Mark never was; given you could feel his fingers find the sliver of skin between the long sleeve you wore and your glove, allowing the appendages to trace there gently.

Quickly, you slipped your hand from his grasp, eyebrows pushing close as you glared up at the man. ”Mark..” You attempted a stern tone, it faltering the moment you noticed that subtle pout capturing his features. You sighed softly, sinking into the pillow below you.

“You know we—“

“Can’t touch.” The man finished the sentence for you, sinking into his own pillow whilst blinking up at you so lovingly. His fingers clenched the blankets underneath the both of you, lips parting to speak;

“But, a little touch isn’t going to hurt me ya know.”

“Last time we held hands you passed out for five minutes.”

Mark groaned softly, “That was last time— I’ve gotten much stronger since then.” He wasn’t completely wrong. The two of you started dating around the same time he gained his Viltrumite powers. Of course he was rusty at first but he learned, something you would always admire.

You breathed softly as Mark moved closer, your hand reaching over to press against his clothed chest. You flinched the moment you felt his fingers lock around your covered arm, easily maneuvering your hand to press right up against his heartbeat. The gentle pounds of the organ caused you to warm, lips pursing as his name came out of you in a pretty whisper.

At the call Mark was inching even closer, now a breaths away, noses barely grazing each other.

“I don’t want to push you, but I don’t want you to hold back either.” He mused, eyes flicking from your own to drop to your lips. The man’s fingers traced your covered skin, speaking once again;

“I would pass out a million times just to feel you [Name]. Half-Viltrumite or not.”

You struggled to keep your little smile down, fingers crumpling the top he wore. You felt the way his heart raced, knowing your own was doing the exact same. A rhythm perfectly in sync, matched faultlessly.

“Mark..”

“And you have to remember; I’m Invincible.” The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile, watching amusement take over your features— the prettiest laughter escaping your lips. Mark wasted no time in swallowing those giggles, fingers dragging from your arm to breach the glove you wore. Pushing the barrier up further, he could only sigh at the touch.

Slowly, hesitantly you kissed back, a shuddering breath flying through your nose. Whenever you touched someone, feeling their powers or memories enter your body— it felt unnatural. Like some type of intruder that had no place underneath your skin.

But feeling Mark, it was completely different. That usual pit of despair that would enter your stomach was replaced with nothing but warmth, warmth that you could only describe as pure love. Even as his powers circulated through your body, you could only focus on how sweetly he kissed you.

Tenderly and gentle, as if Mark had the power to drain you instead. Maybe he did, maybe he could devour you whole; mind and body— yet you wouldn’t care. Wouldn’t protest, wouldn’t whine..

Mark claimed he would pass out a million times just to feel you. And you would entertain each, no matter the day, no matter the time.

The love you held for him outweighed any curse you believed you had.

Your teeth gently dragged across his bottom lip, feeling Mark groan against you; clearly enjoying the attention. His hand squeezed yours just a little tighter, breathing you in, savoring the taste of your lips.

The sweet lip-locking continued for several moments longer before you felt Mark part from you, or rather his body slump as he slid off your lips.

His head landed on the pillow beneath you, eyes shut closed as soft breaths escaped him. Your eyelids lowered, releasing his hand and pulling your glove firmly onto your own. Reaching over, two fingers pressed against his slightly bruised lips, smearing the combined saliva the moment you swept them.

“Stupid boy..” You mummured softly, no longer able to fight back that smile. Your hand then moved to rest between the two of you, body shifting to find a comfortable position on the mattress.

You expected him to be out for a little, maybe even an hour. You didn’t care though, you would wait for him, every time.

[bapeach]

Senior day

Sorry I've been gone for a month! I'm going to try to write more again, but no promises. Also sorry if the end is a bit abrupt, I suck at writing endings. Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Paige Bueckers x female!reader  Word count: 3.1k+ Summary: Y/N finally surprises her girlfriend on senior day. ------------

If there was one thing you loved, it was surprises. Well, you liked surprising other people, you didn’t love getting surprised yourself. Which sucked because somehow, Paige always managed to surprise you, while she always knew what you were up to before you even knew. 

Every time you tried to surprise her by showing up at her dorm unannounced, she was there to open the door with a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates of her own. The fact that she knew your training schedule by heart and knew you’d come visit her every spare time you got warmed your heart, but man, was it annoying you never got to surprise her. 

The second your schedule was cleared and you didn’t reply for a few hours, she immediately knew you were on a plane to Storrs. Even when you tried lying by saying you were going to take a nap or you had extra practice, she knew.

This time, it would be different. 

When you got your training schedule e-mail at the beginning of the year, you immediately checked what the plan was for the 2nd of March. Seeing you didn’t have any practice, you basically jumped out of your seat. You immediately went into edit mode and changed the data to a full day of practice. Right as you click “save”, your phone pings. 

“Let’s gooo, we don’t have practice on senior day!! Are we flying to Storrs together?” The message reads. Grinning, you open the chat and press the FaceTime icon. Seeing Nika’s face pop up, you give her a wide smile as you say, “We’re flying together, and we’re gonna surprise the hell out of Paige!” The Croatian chuckles at your excitement. “Well hello to you too, babes,” she teases as her accent shines through. You roll your eyes playfully as you stick your tongue out at your best friend. 

“Hi lovely, how are you, queen of my life?” You joke, making her laugh. “Okay, you’re doing too much,” she giggles, shaking her head in amusement. You wink at her before looking back at your laptop and sending her the edited schedule. “Alright, I edited the e-mail we got, so now when we send it to P, she’ll think we’ll be busy that day, and she won’t see us coming!”

“Right, that’s totallyyyy gonna work,” the brunette nods with a smile. You pout at her as you whine, “It will! I don’t know how she always knows when I’m on my way to her, but she won’t this time! We just need to make sure we’re subtle, and that the team doesn’t snitch.”

You both continue to talk for another 10 minutes before your phone starts pinging with messages from your favorite blonde. Seeing the dopey grin on your face, Nika says her goodbyes and tells you to say hi to “Lovergirl”. Once the brunette’s face disappears from your screen, you tap Paige’s chat on your laptop and call her.

“Hey ma,” the blonde says with a soft smile. You send her a smile of your own as your pupils dilate at the sight of her. “Hey baby,” you respond, placing your cheek in your palm as you stare at her. Her baby hairs are sticking up, her eye bags look a little darker than the last time you saw her, and her lips are a bit chapped, but she still looks like the prettiest girl in the world to you. 

“Did you get your training timetable yet?” She asks, her right eyebrow raising slightly. You hum as you share your screen with her. The blonde leans in closer to the camera to get a better view, making you smile. You take a screenshot of her cute, scrunched-up face before focusing back on the calendar. “Damn, I was hoping you’d be free for senior day,” she huffs playfully, but you can tell she’s trying to hide her disappointment. 

You bite your lip, feeling bad that she’s upset, but you force yourself to keep it a secret. “I know, love,” you say softly, “but I promise I’ll be cheering you on from here!” Paige brightens up a bit, though not by much, so you change the subject. “I can’t believe you’re joining the WNBA soon… I can’t wait to kick your ass in front of thousands of people.”

Paige laughs loudly as she shakes her head, “Keep dreaming, babe.” You raise your eyebrow challengingly at her. “If my mind serves me right, I beat your ass at Christmas.” She rolls her eyes in return. “You cheated, and you know it,” the blonde complains. You laugh as you raise your hands in question, “How did I cheat?”

“Uhm, you were only wearing shorts and a sports bra, which you know drives me crazy. You kept flirting with me, trying to distract me. And you paid the ref to look the other way when you weren’t following the rules.” She replies, counting the reasons on her fingers. You smirk at the first two reasons but can’t help bursting out in laughter hearing the third. 

“I did not pay Drew to look the other way,” you say as you try to stop laughing. “Mhm, sureee, yet a few hours after the fact, Drew suddenly has a new game he’s been wanting for a while,” she replies, squinting her eyes in suspicion. You simply shake your head at her.

When you open your mouth to defend yourself, you hear Azzi calling Paige’s name in the background. The blonde looks offscreen and mumbles a few things before looking back with a slight frown. “I gotta go, baby,” she says, her eyes becoming a little less bright. You feel your heart clench, but you try to remain strong for her. “Alright, love, have fun at practice, don’t overwork yourself! I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

She smiles softly. “Alright, bye, I love you!” “I love you too!” Once her face disappears from your screen, you sigh. Though you’d seen her just last week for the holidays, you missed her already. You both knew it wasn’t going to be easy being in a relationship while you were both in different states, but there was no way you were going to let each other go.

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

The next few weeks are hard. Paige is practicing more and harder than she ever has, wanting to leave UConn with a bang, meaning you barely ever have time to talk. The few times you guys are able to call, the blonde falls asleep within minutes of hearing your voice. Every morning after, you get a very sad message as she apologizes for once again falling asleep. Every time she does, you reassure her it’s okay, being happy that she finds comfort in your voice as she dozes off. Sure, you’d love to actually have a proper conversation with her, but you know she’s doing her best.

Besides, it’s not like you weren’t busy, either. Your coach had you practicing more than ever, wanting the team to be prepared to start off the season well. When you weren’t practicing with the team, you were in the gym with Nika, synchronizing your moves to become even better teammates. You were doing a pretty good job, though your heart felt heavy from the lack of seeing your girl.

You counted down the days until senior day, and with only a few days left, you were getting restless. “Okay, we should arrive about two hours before the game, so that should give us enough time to pick up the flowers, get settled and ready, and hopefully get to our seats without being swarmed by fans.” You ramble nervously as you fall back onto Nika’s bed. The brunette smiles at you as she settles down next to you, brushing some hair out of your face. “It’s gonna be okay, babe, stop stressing.”

“I just wanna make sure everything is perfect for her, she deserves that,” you reply as you look at your friend. “And it will be! I’ve been texting Azzi, and it seems P believes that we won’t make it, she’s all mopey.” She grins at the thought of a pouty Paige, knowing the girl gets a bit childish when she’s upset. You roll your eyes at her, but you can’t help your lips curving up a little.

“Only a few more days,” you thought to yourself.

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

The second your plane lands, you and Nika speed over to get your bags before rushing to your hotel. You make a quick stop at the florist to pick up a bouquet of flowers, beaming when you see how pretty they are. You each take turns taking a quick shower before getting ready together. You help Nika braid her hair as she helps you with your make-up. Sensing your stress, the brunette takes your mind off of things by talking about random things like the new restaurant you two should go to and the new show you’ve been watching.

You make a mental note to treat the Croatian to a nice girls day for everything she’s done for you.

Once you’re ready, you make your way over to the stadium. Your stomach flutters with nerves as you fidget with the bouquet. Once inside, you make your way over to one of the UConn staff members and an old friend of yours, handing him the flowers so he can keep them safe for now. You talk with him for a moment before Nika lets you know it’s time to get to your seats. You tap your foot to the music that’s playing as you wait for the Huskies to come out and warm up. 

When you hear the crowd start cheering, you look up and see the players slowly walk onto the court, grinning as they take in the moment. Your eyes immediately zero in on Paige as she walks onto the court with KK and Azzi by her side. A grin forms on your lips as you watch the blonde and the freshman tease each other. When you look at the team’s princess, you see she’s already looking at you with big eyes and a wide grin. 

You send Azzi a wave before looking back at Paige. Having noticed the younger girl beside her isn’t paying attention, the blonde looks over at her. She follows her gaze before freezing mid-step. Her blue eyes meet yours, and it feels like everything around you fades. Her pearly whites shine bright as she smiles at you. 

She quickly starts walking over to you as you get up to meet her halfway. The second she’s within reach, you fling your arms around her neck as she lifts you into a tight hug. You squeeze her close to you, finally feeling whole again. You feel the taller girl breathe in your signature perfume as she buries her face into the crook of your neck. You rub her neck with your thumb as you greet her, “Hey baby,” you whisper as to not break the moment. 

When she pulls back, you see a few tears have formed in her eyes. You chuckle as you rub your thumbs over the apples of her cheeks. “How? I thought you had practice?” She mutters, looking away from you for a moment to send Nika a big smile. “I may or may not have edited the file…” you say with a cheeky grin, “Surprise!” The blonde shakes her head as she laughs, her eyes seem lighter than ever. 

She looks around for a moment before shrugging and saying, “Fuck it.” She pulls you into a sweet kiss that leaves you both blushing as you hear the crowd around you cheer even louder than before. You push her away, shaking your head as you bite your lip to stop the huge grin growing on your face. “Go warm up, loser,” you tease. She nods her head, her eyes twinkling. She squeezes your hand before walking back to her team. “Hey P!” You yell, making her look back. “Knock ‘em dead!”

She sends you a smirk and a salute, causing the butterflies in your stomach to stir. You had full confidence in UConn, having seen the insane games they’ve been having lately, but that didn’t make the game any less nerve-wracking. Anything could happen. A bad fall, a shitty ref, or even just the nerves getting to the team. But even with all your worries about a possible injury, a smile is etched onto your face the whole match. Seeing Paige on the court, exactly where she belongs, is magical. It’s like seeing the last puzzle piece click into place.

As the last seconds tick by, you’re standing up beside Nika, applauding and cheering so hard your hands burn and your throat aches. As the final buzzer goes off, you pull the Croatian into a tight hug as the Huskies jump into a group hug. Once things have calmed down a bit, Paige waves you over, so you grab Nika’s hand and walk onto the court. The two of you immediately get bombarded by hugs, high-fives, and pats on the shoulder from the team. You gush to them about how well they played before finally making your way over to the star of the show.

You fling yourself into the blonde’s arms right away, not caring about her sweatiness. You hold her so tight that you fear she might not be able to breathe. You feel her heart beating loudly against her chest as your head lays against her. “I’m so fucking proud of you, baby,” you mutter, smiling up at her with love clear in your eyes.

Paige pulls you into a searing kiss, not caring about the camera’s flashing around you. “I love you so much,” she breathes out as she leans her forehead against yours. “And I you, my love,” you reply, your heart feeling like it’s about to burst out of its cage.

You let her go after a moment, letting her go to her team for the end of senior night. You stand around with Nika for a bit before it’s time for the ceremony. Giving the Croatian’s hand a squeeze, you walk towards where the Huskies are standing. You stroll over to Paige and her family, giving Drew a high five and the rest of her family a hug. 

The blonde looks at you with adoration and a hint of confusion. You stop next to her, sliding a hand into hers. “I’d love to walk with you, if that’s okay?” You ask with an easy smile. “Of course, but… I thought only family was allowed to do that?” She replies, her brows knitted together. “Usually, yeah, but… I pulled some strings,” you grin mischievously. A chuckle escapes her lips, but before she can say anything, the lights dim and a hush spreads over the crowd. 

You squeeze her hand before looking ahead at the announcer as he starts announcing the first senior, Kaitlyn Chen. You clap as she starts walking with her family, a bright smile on your face. You might never have played with the girl, but you adored her energy and had heard great things about her from Paige. 

Once it’s Paige’s turn, you walk beside her, winking at some of your old teammates as you pass them. Reaching Geno, you give him a tight squeeze, missing the old grump more than you dared to tell anyone. Once the blonde receives her frame, you take a step back with her siblings, letting her have her moment. You sling your arms around them, letting Drew stand in front of you as he leans against your front. Seeing their teary eyes, you squeeze their shoulders as you give them a watery smile.

After a moment, Paige waves everyone over. You give her siblings a tiny push as you grin her way. You let them take some pictures before joining them after a pointed look from your girlfriend. As you stand there, surrounded by your favorite people, your heart swells. Nothing could wipe your smile off of your face.

As you pose for the camera, your right pocket feels heavy. Though the tiny blue box holds nothing more than a ring and a thousand promises, it feels like it’s aflame and ready to burn its way to freedom. 

While you don’t plan on proposing in the middle of a big gym, surrounded by sweaty bodies and a howling crowd, you do have the ring on your person. Though it makes you slightly anxious, fearing you might lose it or Paige might see it, it also brings you a type of serene calm. You brush your hands against it, letting the velvet box ground you. Knowing that tonight is the night you’ll finally ask the love of your life to be yours forever only makes this day that much sweeter.

You squeeze the taller girl’s hand thrice before letting her go so she can take some more pictures with the other seniors. Once the whole team joins them on the court again, it’s time for the unveiling of your girl’s name on the wall of legends. Tears well up in your eyes once more at the feeling of pure pride and adoration you have. Nika laughs beside you, seeing you become a mess. She hands you a tissue as she gives you a tight side hug.

Once Paige is done with her speech and senior night is coming to an end. You walk back over to her, this time holding the bouquet you’d gotten her. She grins as she sees you coming, a light blush covering her cheeks at the sight of her favorite flowers. “You didn’t have to get me these,” she says, but you can hear the appreciation in her voice. “I know, but I wanted to. You deserve this… Not just the flowers, this whole thing, I mean. You’re amazing. As a basketball player, a leader, a friend, a sister, and a girlfriend. Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you ramble before biting your tongue. You have an entire speech planned for tonight, now is not the time to start blabbing.

The girl in front of you opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. You’ve left her completely speechless with your sweet words, so instead of saying anything, she just pulls you against her, making sure not to crush the flowers. You hold her for a moment before pushing her away. “Now go shower, you stink,” you grin playfully. “Ugh, you’re so annoying,” she huffs back, but a smile is visible on her face.

You watch her walk away and into the locker rooms, exhaling as you roll your shoulders back. You try not to worry about the big question tonight, knowing you can’t back out. Turning around, your eyes catch Nika’s from where she’s standing with Geno. She sends you a smile and a tiny nod of encouragement, knowing your plan for tonight. You send her one in return before walking over to your (hopefully) soon-to-be in-laws.

“I’ve got this,” you think to yourself.

[acquelus-ussy]

Hear me out...

Yandere!husband × wife!reader

You already know he would do anything and everything for you. So when you woke up in the hospital bed, Yandere!husband was already crying.

Hold on who is he? You look around, confused, slowly sitting upright. Then you see a man crying near you. He must be a family member or something.

He looks at you, and the moment he feels that you don't recognize him, his heart drops.

"Honey? Are you okay? It's me, your husband."

Hold on husband??? Since when? Your head starts to hurt again, but before all that... You got into a car accident. You were driving back from the grocery store when a drunk driver hit you.

At least, that's what they told you. But heck, having amnesia hurts a lot.

Every day since you regained consciousness, your so-called "husband" brings you flowers and food, staying by your side until the day of your release.

"So, if you're my husband, where did we meet? How did our love story begin?"

"Of course I'll tell you anything you want to know, anything for you, honey."

He talks about your relationship while driving you home. Once you arrive, you see proof of your marriage blossoming in every corner of the house you supposedly share pictures of the two of you, from your engagement to your second anniversary. You can't believe it... You got married so young.

But don’t worry a silly thought in your head its a reminder that your husband loves you very much. He provides for you, and might I say, he pleasures you. In fact, he's so addicted to you.

While you and your "real" husband were driving home from the grocery store oh, silly! It's nothing he just crashed into you both. And well...

He's the one who drove the truck.

He disposed of your husband’s body, got rid of your friends, redecorated your house, and convinced the doctors and nurses that he was your husband. Don’t worry about anything. He has connections for everything and anything.

So don’t move an inch. Because he will provide.

He knew from the start you were his wife.

But don’t worry, baby.

You won’t remember a thing if I keep fucking you this good.

Heck, you can’t even remember your name when I make you orgasm.

---

I really love this trope so bad i need more people to write about this 😭😭😭

Again i hope you guys like this one heheuwhwuwheh

[writingwisterias]

Do you think you could write pornstar!leon x reader? I’m not in any rush, I just needed to get this idea out

I was thinking older Leon (40s-60s) x college student reader (early 20s at the youngest)

He’s been retired for quite a while, but you stumbled onto his old videos somehow, and you’re obsessed with them. I’m imagining he did them when he was a little older for one reason or another but he stopped. Maybe an erectile problem or he got bored of it. Or something entirely different, it’s up to you.

Then you meet him somehow, one thing leads to another and you’re fucking your favorite ex-pornstar <3

I don’t have anything else in mind, maybe a little good old cunnilingus and something about how the guys your age don’t know how to treat someone right. I don’t know I just needed to share this.

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!! I really hope you enjoy because I've had the idea for so long and you have provided the best opportunity for it!!

Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Basically Porn, Dom Leon, Age-Gap, Sub Reader, Drinking, Rough sex, Light Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Filming, Unprotected Sex, Masturbation, Erectile dysfunction, implied sex addicts Words: 4.3k

Thank you Two n Eva for letting me ramble constantly again...and Shy for beta readings ily all (ignore me adding tags when I remember them it's late for me shh)

It shouldn't be this hard. It’s not like he hasn’t done it a thousand times already. The method was simple, he could even use his own videos for reference if he wanted to. Leon squeezed the base yet again, willing the damn thing to even just twitch. It didn’t matter what he did anymore, his days of pleasure seemed to come to an end. The viagra that remained unopened in the bedside table was becoming tempting but that was a last resort, a pathetic one at that. It made him feel old to admit defeat like he’s lost his glory days.

Leon squeezed the base again, the pads of his fingers running along his sack. The stimulation gave him something, a small twitch barely noticeable with his dick in his tight grip. Yet, it was something, the only proof that it still had some energy left in the damn thing. 

The tip was pink and sad staring at him from where he looked down on it. No longer was it that angry red colour, spewing out dribbles of pre cum eagerly. That’s why the fans liked him, he was messy. If only they could see him now, see this pathetic sight. His page remained bare, the last video posted almost a year ago now. 

Not that it mattered, he had enough money from the ones he made because instead of turning it into some production he kept the shitty quality of his phone as it seemed enough for the majority. Well, at least he’s never read any complaint about it. 

One more try, that’s what he would do, before either giving up or going for that drawer. His thumb brushed over the tip before he rolled it back. The roughness of his thumb is the perfect contrast to the sensitive skin. He could feel the slick form, a pathetic watery substance that would be no good for a film. With his hand still doing the motion Leon looked to the ceiling with a sigh, something that he did out of boredom didn’t even help him now. Years of abusing the rush of pleasure and his multiple orgasms a night have finally stabbed him in the back. His eyes flicked to the tv, the pictures lighting up the dark room. Never stopping the work on his flaccid cock as he prayed eventually it might spring to life. 

Surely it was unhealthy to be obsessed with a guy like this, to watch the shitty pornhub videos he posted nearly every night like they were some bedtime programme. The cumshots, whimpers and moans all send shockwaves down to your core, the puffy nerve working quickly to ensure you know it's neediness. His face card was lethal, hair falling over his eyes that were lined with a dark look. It was all too tempting…arousing. Every night you found yourself in the same position, legs spread as wide as you could get them as your fingers circled your clit in teasingly slow motions whilst you watched the video on your laptop. Your pussy stuffed with the largest dildo you could find online. Always ensuring that you match the same pace of his actions. He never said anything, his groans were enough for you. The deep raspy tone was engraved in your every thought at this point, you were surprised it hadn’t turned into your inner monologue. 

You watched his dick twitch in his hands, his hips buckling slightly, all signs that you had learnt was him nearing his end. You worked harder, moving the dildo deeper and slower just like his hips were moving. A punishing brutal pace with the soul goal of his own pleasure. The coil tightened, a thread ready to snap as the minutes of the videos counted down. 

How many times have you done it tonight? 

You poor clit abused, white hot pleasure searing through your system as your nerves set on fire. Your thighs clamping around both of your hands as you orgasm. The slick flooding out from between your fingers as your brain settles into the right mode to sleep. The fuzziness lingering like a drug. An addiction. 

You watched with half-closed eyes and short breaths as he showed off the mess he made across the expanse of his abs. Giving off a subtle wink to the camera before it finally stopped. The date of the post made you frown, it was the most recent one…posted almost a year ago. You couldn’t help the thought’s circling about his life now. Wondering if he would ever post again. Maybe he has kids now, a wife, someone to spoil all the money he earned on.

The parasocial relationship you had formed with him was wrong and a stupid thing to cling onto. You were sure to be the only activity on his page anymore; there was definitely no one else was this insane to choose only one pornstar to get off to. Let alone the one who hasn’t posted anything recently. His videos were always more like a home video, shitty quality, barely audible, it really wouldn’t surprise you if he filmed them on a camcorder. 

You weren’t even sure if any other dick would get you off at this point – not that you had anything other than the dildo to use. Though, if you did manage to bring someone home, you suppose you could beg for them to quiet as you closed your eyes to imagine him. The thought caused embarrassment to settle in your stomach, the sex addict he had made you become was shameful at least that's what you had been raised to believe. 

A woman shouldn’t be this in tune and free with her sexual side, it was always wrong according to your parents. Your sexuality was something for a man to explore and take only for himself. It wasn’t for you, it shouldn’t be pleasurable for you. If your friends knew, they would also shame you for this. They didn’t need anymore fuel for how lonely you were, your search history would surely traumatise them. 

Your eyes flicked down to the corner of your laptop, blinking away the tears that lingered in your waterline, to see the time. 30 minutes to get ready before you leave for drinks with your friends. To see the indie rock band that was playing tonight, your friend's boyfriend, the lead singer. You had no idea why that meant you had to go, though the promise of their bar tab convinced you. There was no hope in going home with someone, never was anymore. All the old fucks that lined the seats of that took away the eyecandy you were looking for and if you did find them…well even you knew that you deserved better than some small dick looking for a quicky.  

Your outfit was simple and comfortable. The jeans hugging you perfectly, the top low cut enough to show off the girls that were definitely co-operating tonight for a change. Their perkiness was evident in every step you took towards the bar, holding your arms around yourself to fight off the lingering cold in the air. You wafted through the cloud of second hand smoke, breathing the scent in deeply allowing it to settle in your lungs. Old habits never strayed too far from reach you suppose. 

The music vibrated through the floor, bodies bumping into as you made your way to the stage. Your friend greeted you with a large smile, her eyes sparkling with joy as she glanced back at her boyfriend. Their relationship was sweet, full of honeymoon type of love and appreciation. You envied them, that somehow in this crap world they managed to find a sweet relationship. You weren’t built for that, not when you were here at this moment and all you could think about was returning home and dealing with the pulsing need in your underwear. 

A drink was shoved in your hand, one from her ‘to loosen you up a bit’ apparently. You looked too tense, ridgid for someone that was here to have fun and enjoy the moment. The neat whiskey burned on the way down, settling somewhere deep in your chest. It warmed you, distracted you; both were welcomed in this scenario. “Is everything alright tonight? You’re like a wooden doll” Your friend laughed as she walked you over to the bar. Her grip was at least grounding, stopping the internal fire blazing inside you. “Yeah I’m good, just a rough day” 

“Good job you’re here then” she laughed, handing you another drink. You watched the amber liquid swirl, the condensation running down the sides of glass reminding you too much of him. Of the scenes you have watched over and over again. She waved her hand in front of your face, breaking the trance you had on the droplets. “Are you sure you are okay?” 

How could you tell her that you were itching to return home? To lay in your soft sheets and watch him. Your skin burned – desire running through you constantly. You couldn’t do anything about it, everything reminded you of him. 

“Drink to forget?” You responded, smiling weakly at your friend. Hers only grew a wild look in her eye before calling a round of shots, bringing you into a side hug whilst giggling. It definitely worked. Your body felt lighter, happier. That burning desire now muted until you at least got home. Your hips swaying with hers, smiles and laughter filling the bubble you had formed around yourselves.

It was your turn to collect the next round of drinks, your shoes dragged across the floor, boots scuffing against the things that had fallen out of people's pockets. Barely avoiding people's elbows as you passed them. You attempted to avoid looking at the couples pressed against the walls, their lips locking onto each other in a heated exchange of passion. Thankfully their moans are muted by the volume of the guitar. 

Yet, you froze in place as your eyes fell upon the slumped figure at the bar. You tried blinking away the drunken haze, the one that blurred with the lights of the bar whilst you observed every curve of the muscle he bore, the nose bridge…hands wrapped around the beer bottle. It couldn’t be. No you weren’t that unlucky and lucky at the same time. Not when you were finally forgetting about him tonight, about the fantasies and daydreams over what he would be like. 

His head lifted as his eyes scanned over the pool of people dancing, the flashing lights blurring their movements. Except for yours because you were still stationary like an idiot, looking right at him. He observed your form as you finally finished the journey to the bar and ordered a large cocktail topped with ice and a glazed cherry. Leon's eyes ran over your chest as you leant against the bar. Your chest was moving slowly and deeply like you were trying to calm yourself. Your nails are scratching at the rings of alcohol that were left on it that your focus now remained on. He couldn’t approach you like he would have in the past, the obvious age gap didn’t bother him. Your youthful skin would feel heavenly under his calloused fingertips. No, the lack of the twitch in his trousers as he perved on you was a reminder that after his failed attempt earlier to get this shit to work before he gave up and dragged himself here. At least the band playing tonight was actually decent. For once.

He never looked away, not once. Not even as people filtered in front of his line of sight. Everytime you allowed your eyes to drift over to him, he was still watching; taking slow sips of the beer he was nursing. The temperature of the drink cooled your skin as you took it from the bartender, savouring the liquid encouragement as you sipped on it. The cherry cola cocktail settled better than the whiskey you had drank earlier. It was dangerous mixing your drinks, each drink adding to the tipsy haze you bore. The cherry was sweet as you slipped it into your mouth. The vodka infused with it makes you smile. 

Leon couldn’t pull his eyes away if he wanted to, not as you drank. Your neck looked perfect as you extended it whilst lifting the glass, your lips curving into a smile as you chewed on the alcoholic cherry. He licked his lips as he watched, almost trying to imagine which part of your neck would be the most sensitive spot to suck one. Which spot would force you to sing perfectly to him? Would it taste like sweat and perfume as he kissed your neck? Or remain flavorless like all the girls he was with before. 

You smiled when your eyes finally met again, a big toothy grin that proudly displayed the cherry stem from between your lips. 

Perfectly tied. 

It was only then he felt the throb, the one he's craved to feel for over a year. His cock quickly worked its way to a semi as he watched you saunter over. Your perfume filled his senses as you slid into the chair next to him. His suspicions on what you would taste like as it smelled expensive. Moving to sit with him was a bold move on your behalf but with the liquid encouragement flowing through your system you just decided to run with it. If this worked, you would be a fool to waste this chance. You simply place the stem on the bar in front of him, now glaringly obvious you were skilled with your tongue. 

“Where did you learn how to do that?” He chuckled. His blue eyes now bore that dark look underneath the strands of hair that fell over his face. Leon leaned back in the stool, his chest turned towards you. The shirt was tight, straining against him as he moved showcasing everything you knew lies beneath. “Research, thought it would be a useful skill to learn” You teased, your body subconsciously leaning towards him. His deep musk hit your senses, the linger smell of the beer in the air he exhaled. It was intoxicating, just as you imagined it would be. 

“You always do this?” He asked again, the green bottle putting some distance between the two of you as he sipped on it again. The condensation ran over his fingers as he raised it. Leon smirked against the rim of the bottle as he watched your eyes flick over his hand. “Only with guys that eye fuck me across the bar” You retorted, blinking slightly as you looked back towards his eyes. He hummed deeply, considering his next actions which were largely influenced by the throb of his cock. “How often does that happen?” 

“Calling me pretty?” 

Leon chuckled, finally leaning forward into your space. His hand landed on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. “I’d be lying if I said you weren’t” 

You scanned his face, breath faltering at his closeness. Everything faded to the background, you forgot where you were, why you were here. All gone as you savoured the addiction of his smell, the curve of his features now they were close enough. You wanted to whimper his name, kiss his lips until they puffed up more. Leon smiled as your tongue darted out between your lips, licking them slightly. Your saliva creates the perfect gloss across them, making them even more tempting. 

As soon as your lips met you melted. Your hands found the inner curve of his thigh as you moved closer, leaning into him for support. The passion was addictive as the kiss grew heated, his touch set you on fire as his hand cupped your jaw possessively. When he finally pulled away, he laughed as you chased after him. “Your place or mine?” 

“Yours” 

His hand was larger than yours as he pulled you along with him out of the bar. The cloud of smoke greeted you again, settling deeply in your system as you both waited for the cab. His lips were upon you again, chasing the growing erection in his trousers. The one that was now becoming painfully hard, not that he would argue. He grinned into your lips, held you closer letting you feel it against your stomach. Feel the want, need, hunger he had for you. 

The cab ride continued the heated exchange and wandering hands as he cupped your body, fingers rubbing over your peaked nipples through the fabric of your shirt. You almost felt bad for the driver…almost. Never would you have expected him to be so needy. To seem like he wanted this just as much as you. Not with his extensive collection of media anyway, surely you were just another fuck and you should be pawning over him more than he was over you. 

The door slammed shut behind the two of you, both immediately toeing off your shoes without breaking the kiss. He leads you further inside, his hands stripping clothes like a trail. Leading all the way to the infamous room, the bed with sheets that smelled like him. That collected everything he proudly showed off in his media. He was painfully hard now, his cock tenting obviously in his underwear as he pushed you on the edge of the bed. 

Leon’s cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. The black lace that decorated your body, hiding the things he wanted to taste and feel the most from view. You were magic, a drug to him. Lust finally only filled his senses as his cock twitched against the fabric. No longer was it pathetic and weak like earlier. Fuck he felt great, alive again…

You removed your bra, displaying the perfect peaks to him as you stretched your arms above your chest. He licked his lips, watching them bounce with your movements. Grinning as you laid back against the bed, lifting your hips to remove the underwear that covered your sex. Proudly displaying the weeping mess to him, as a juicy dessert for him to devour if he pleased. 

The whine that left your lips was embarrassing as he pulled his boxers down. You were greeted with a live viewing of his leaking tip, the substance no longer that pathetic watery mess he produced recently. You finally got him working again. You moved up the bed as he hovered over you, smiling as you were surrounded by every sense of him. The giddiness of your dreams peaking through. As he began to rub his cock through the wetness of your folds you couldn’t help but moan. The syllables of his name were drawn out as he teased your clit with his tip. 

But he hadn’t told you his name. 

His hands grasped your cheeks tightly, bringing your eyes back to him with a widened stare. “What did you say?” He demanded. You looked up at him dumbfounded, your brain scrambling for an excuse that would stop the flood of embarrassment. “How do you know my name?” He continued, his grip loosening as he stared down at you. His cock twitching at your entrance. It was all too arousing. 

“Y-your videos…” You sputtered out, hips pathetically lifting from the bed to continue the feeling of his movements earlier. Your stomach tightening as a sly grin began to form on his face. “What a little whore I’ve found…a fan of mine hm? Wanted to get a feel of this?” 

He emphasised the question by notching his tip at your entrance, feeling the tight hole clench and twitch around it. “Y-yes” You admitted, eyes never leaving him. Leon pulled back, his thighs moving underneath yours as he reached over for his phone. Left abandoned on the side earlier in the night. It didn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for. The extensive list of his filmography highlighting your features as he turned the device towards you. “Which ones are your favourite then, sweetheart?” He chuckled. 

The question was a hard one to answer if it had been asked by anyone in general, but now he was asking it? You felt the pressure, the shame of having to admit which one you touched yourself to the most, the one that made you the wettest. “This one” You whispered, clicking on it. Only to then be met with the shlick sounds of him rubbing himself. The tip appeared and disappeared between his fists in a rapid motion, unlike the speed he was now teasing you with. “You liked watching me get myself off, pumping this hard throbbing cock towards the camera?” 

You responded with a nod, hiding your features in the bedding beside you. No he wouldn’t let you do that. Not when his cock was practically screaming to be sheathed inside your warmth. To feel your perfectly aroused pussy throb around him. He stopped his movements, the sound of the video barely audible over your panting. 

Leon gripped at your face again, guiding you to look at him. “Such a dirty girl you are” He teased as he finally pressed himself into you. His own noises became pathetic whimpers as he finally felt himself be surrounded by his addiction, finally giving into the craving after his body forced him to go cold turkey from. He didn’t need the meds that still lied in the drawer next to you, not when your perky breasts moved against his chest. The nipples peaked and sensitive as the movements forced moans out of you. His name was heaven on your lips, the perfect melody. 

You didn’t notice that Leon had now leaned back again, not when he was assaulting you with the perfect amount of pleasure. His hips moving in a slow grind, hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. There was no point holding back your moans, not when you felt his cock throb inside you at every one. You felt the puffy vein you always wanted to trace with your tongue running along inside you, his cock barely existing before he drove it back.Then you heard the beep of his phone camera recording and his deep chuckle. 

“What a lucky fan you are” he spoke, the camera aimed at the action of him entering and leaving. 

“Be a good girl and hold this steady, yeah?” He instructed, angling the camera in your hands for the perfect view of him drilling into you. The change of pace was intense with how sudden it was, the rhythm soon becoming the perfect thing you needed as the coil quickly tightened up. However, Leon wasn’t aiming for your release, only his own. You began to move against him, squirming away as you lingered on the edge of overstimulation. 

“Hold it steady now” 

Leon groaned at your whine, at each clench you lovingly offered him. His hand held yours, angling the camera back at the money shot where his cock drove into you. Removing his cock only once to circle your clit with the tip. Finally now angry and red again for the camera, weeping his pre all over your untouched skin. He was making a mess of you, a glorious one. The pleasure was perfect as he chased his own. His hips moved faster and faster until they became a bruising pace.

He looked perfectly like this, hovering about you. It was everything you ever imagined and thought of during the day. His eyes remained screwed shut as he took in what he craved. “Fucking perfect” he grunted. He never spoke in his videos, only producing his grunts and moans. This was a first…a first for a lot of things. 

The most important one being his first orgasm in a year. He never released he needed a younger pussy, a perfectly neat one for him to abuse and ruin with the size of him. To mould it for only him and no one else. He sucked against your skin, nipping at your breasts, releasing them with a loud pop. “Fucking hell…” 

You felt his hips buck harshly, a groan leaving his lips…the signs of his release. You moaned his name again as his finger toyed with your clit. The muscles of your tights twitching as you finally orgasmed with a desperate whine. You felt like you were on cloud nine, with the added tipsiness of the bar earlier. Leon continued to assault you through it, the fuzziness of the evening blending together as all his blood rushed south. He pulled out of you, aiming his cock towards the phone and was still angled at the action. With a few harsh pumps, his load came spurting out coating your body in his translucent substance. 

Your chests heaved as you stared at each other with lust blown eyes. The post orgasm status settling in. Regret from either of you nowhere to be found, only the neediness and desire for another round. 

It wasn’t until a few days later you got the text from him. Opting to not contact him first in fear of looking even more like a crazed fan. Despite the fact he wanted to keep in contact. You must have been a pretty good fuck then. The thought offered a light ego boost for a few days at least. To Leon you were perfect, his cock constantly throbbing to life now he had the crappy video on his phone but he wasn’t selfish. It was only fair that you got to see your side of the action, to witness the pornographic moment of that night. Which you helped create. 

‘Did you see the video?’ 

Confused, you checked his page, waiting for the small circle to stop spinning in the corner of your laptop. The title made you blush, the throbbing need that had been satiated for the past few days rushing back quickly. 

SHY FREAK GETS FUCKED BY HER IDOL 

[hotwife-larissa-returns]

We met on a party and an good old friend introduced us to each others. The party was great, we danced, we got drunk… we kissed.

He had eyes only for me that night, I was corrupting his mind and I enjoyed it. His girlfriend has left him some weeks ago and I could see the lust in his eyes… the lust for me.

My old friend was doing great, he knew the chemistry between us would be great and he distracted my hubby. Showing him around, introducing him as my hubby to guys, who have fucked me in my past… without telling him. They all congratulated him for taming me. Huh, yeah, right… as if that would be possible… especially for him.

From time to time I just feel the need to smoke some weed and I just made a joke to that new guy and told me, that if he had some grass, I‘d be in the mood to go home with him and do naughty things with him throughout the night.

He just took my hand, pulled me from the dancefloor and said „let‘s go!“ He lived in an apartment nearby, it was a short walk and he already pulled out two joints. I deeply inhaled the smoke and got high fast.

As we shut the door of his apartment we stripped out of our clothes in no time, we were heading for the bedroom, he was walking behind me and I felt his big cock rubbing against my ass. Oh my, I was totally in the mood to have wild nasty sex now.

I opened the door to the bedroom and that guy whispered in my ear „Ready to meet my dad?“ I tried to act shocked, by it turned me on and my mind was too slow to think about if he‘s just kidding or if he’s serious and the next moment I saw a grey haired man, lying naked in his bed. Hung like a horse and already hard, he must have been waiting for us. I remember that he texted someone on our walk.

I just smiled at him, took the next steps to the bed and bend over him to kiss and suck the tip of his old man‘s cock. He tasted great, his mushroom fitted so nicely into my mouth… as if it were made for it. Meanwhile I felt his junior feeling my ass and teasing me by sliding his cock through my crotch.

I got totally screwed that night, they took turns on me, dp‘ed me, came all over my body. I was their nasty slut and they made me see colors as I orgasmed several times. I passed out after my last one that night.

As I woke up in the morning, I had a bad hangover… the son was already awake, lying next to me, caressing my body. His dad had already left. I asked him for a favor, I needed another joint and wanted to take a bath. My pussy was sore and my ass burnt, they were quite rough with me, had absolutely no mercy, used me like a fucktoy.

I climbed into his tube and he told me, that he has an urgent desire and before I realized, what he was talking about I felt his warm pee on my body. I was too surprised to say a thing, I usually don’t like those things, but I must say, it turned me on that day and I let him clean the cum-strains from my body with his piss.

He filled the tube with water afterwards and offered my a joint, the smoke and the hot water helped me to recover and relax, he joined me in the tube and well yeah, I made him hard again and we did one last round before he reminded me of my hubby and told me to call him to pick his slut up.

Hubby just hates, when I smoke… but he got excited as I told him about my slutty adventure that night.

👩🏻🤗😍🥰😘💋🫦🔥💍💨🍆🍆😈💕🤷🏻‍♀️

via weheartit

[misshuntereevee]

The Winner Takes it All, part 2.

( part 1. )

Synopsis: You look like the MC, and you actually remember bits and pieces of the myth (not all.) But MC finally shows up, with no memory, and Sylus can’t help but be drawn in. What will happen?

Notes: Thank you guys so much for the love. Part 3 will be coming probably in a few days as I prepare to start a new series for Raf. However, there has been some interest in a taglist for this series. I won’t be doing this at this time, but I will keep considering. Comments, likes and reblogs are encouraged but not necessary. Enjoy the groveling. (Also don’t forget I’m not beta-read.)

Sylus knows he fucked up. The moment you were gone -- Miss Hunter ceased to exist. Multiple calls from her went unanswered. And he didn’t even wonder once if she was okay. But every moment since you’ve been gone, Sylus has been searching.

If you’re mad at him, that’s one thing. But he has a duty to you to make sure that Ever never lays a hand on you. And no matter how mad you are at him, he refuses to let that promise go. If he has to rebuild the trust… he will. Brick by brick.

But the pit in his stomach doesn’t subside when he sees you. He’s not a jealous man, never felt the need to be. But right now -- he understands he’s the closest he’s ever been to losing you. And he is feeling envy creep up into his veins.

You were flirting with the cashier. Well, he started it but you definitely were returning it. In all honesty… the attention felt nice. It had been a few weeks since you felt like you got this sort of attention.

The cashier is already blushing. “You know, I get off around -,”

“We don’t care,” a smooth voice comes from behind you, and a shiver runs down your spine. Sylus. You hate that it elicits such a reaction, but there would never be a day it didn’t. Your memories of your past life were hazy at best, but his voice — you don’t remember a single time it didn’t made you fall head over heels.

A hand comes to rest on your shoulder but with a loud huff, you yank it off spinning around. You’re angry. Passionately so. “Don’t you dare,” you hiss at him. “You don’t have a right—,”

“Keep the change,” Sylus tells the cashier, ignoring you.

The cashier looks between you both before he lets out an awkward low whistle and backs up. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not risking my life for a date with you.” And with that he leaves the customer service desk, leaving the two of you alone. You swivel around to face him, and you notice a swirl of emotions around his face.

Relief. Anger. Annoyance. Relief again. Adoration. And then finally in lands on one thing you didn’t expect —

“You were actually flirting with him,” he points out, his eyes looking… hurt somewhere underneath an accusatory jealousy. You don’t say anything. In fact, you grab the book you purchased and start walking out the door. He follows you, and you try to put your earbuds in. He takes them immediately with his Evol. You scowl at him and yank him into a nearby alleyway.

“What the hell are you doing?” You spit at him. “Leave me alone. If I wanted to talk to you, I’d answer my phone.”

A flicker of hurt crosses his face for a moment. But finally, he forces a calm look on his face. “My little bird, I know I forgot our —,”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face when you laugh loudly and bitterly. “Are you kidding me? You think that’s all I’m upset about?” He stays quiet, seeming to realize you aren’t done with him yet. In all honesty, he needs to hear what you say. Sylus knows he can’t fix anything until he knows how you’re feeling.

You frown at him before continuing: “She comes along and just because she looks like me she grabs your attention? Oh and that stupid fucking linkage bond thing ---,” How could you forget? You could resonate with him, yes, but there has never been any physical bondage connecting the two of you. That was new -- something only Miss Hunter had. And you had wondered —

Was it enough that you should doubt? Your fears were confirmed when he forgot your anniversary to take her home after a mission.

“And Ever wants you both,” he adds, his eyes narrowing. “Which was enough for me to wonder if you left… or disappeared.”

“Ha, no, more like your ego couldn’t handle that I left!” You say, poking his chest. He scowls at you. “And you know what -- I fucking remember. Does she?! I might not remember everything, but I remember! She can’t… she’ll never —”

You stop, your voice about to shake with tears. A lump forms in your throat, your chest tightening. You remember when he forced the blade through his heart. You remember slaying the dragon. And you remember the pain your past self carried -- everywhere. “Does she remember losing you like I do? However hazy it may be, she doesn’t carry that pain.”

And that’s when you turn away from him. A hand comes up, pushing tears away. “Oh, my little bird,” he murmurs behind you, his voice sounding raw. He can’t stand the fact you’re crying… over him. Self-loathing was the only thing swirling in Sylus’ red eyes right now. “I’m sorry.”

“No. I don’t forgive you. I’m not willing to fight with another version of myself for you. Go away,” you spit. You need time. And you start to walk away from him. However -- You’re only about two feet away from him when you’re yanked backwards. Something is tethering around your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stop it,” you hiss at Sylus. “Let me go!” But as you turn around completely, you can tell — this is not his Evol. You’d be able to resonate with him and make him stop. This isn’t that.

Sylus stares at it for a moment before there’s a small smirk on his face. “Well,” he says. “It looks like you’ll have to hear me out now.” A linkage.

***

“No, don’t you even start,” you say to him, staring at the link. “I’m sure if I just resonated with you — when you finally resonated with her, it went away right?”

You try to resonate with him but —

“You’re blocking it!” You accuse him. “You’re trying not to resonate with me.”

“What can I say? If my little bird flies away before I can tell her how sorry I am, that just won’t do,” he nearly purrs.

“Oh, I hate you. Stop this!”

“You have every right to be angry,” Sylus starts. Granted, you weren’t expecting that, so your response doesn’t come quickly. He keeps talking. “I admit… seeing her threw me off. But anything drawing me to her was pure curiosity, nothing more. Any other pull I felt — it felt empty. Like it belonged to you. Because it does.”

You cross your arms, pretending not to be fazed by his declarations. He leans down, gripping your chin. “You’re right, my Queen. You remember me,” he says. The other hand — the hand linked to yours by the bond — laces fingers with yours. You don’t lace them back right away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “If you wish for me to never see her again, I’ll let someone else investigate her appearance for me. I have to know — for both our sakes why she’s here. Just please -- I can’t lose you. You’re right.”

“Sylus —,”

“Please. You don’t understand. These last two weeks have been — eye opening.” He lets out a deep, ragged breath. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I mean it.”

A deep breath. Your thoughts are so consumed with confusion. Because you’re also curious to why there seems to be two of you - albeit two crazily different lives. You mean, she had her life and you certainly had yours.

But you also missed him. Your dragon. And the look on his face. You found it remarkable how this crime boss of a man could look like a kicked puppy, begging for forgiveness. And you absolutely hate how much you’re softening. How much you’re still attracted and pulled to him.

“Mhm. Fine. Come back tomorrow and apologize again just as passionately… and I’ll think about it,” you finally say.

His mouth opens and closes. “My little bird — okay. If that’s what you want.” And he takes your hand, ready to resonate and undo the linkage so he can leave you for the night. Sylus doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to give you a single chance to overthink it and -- not forgive him. But he also knows -- if he pushes this, he could lose you forever.

The glow of resonating begins — but nothing happens. Your heart drops. It’s not working. So… it wasn’t Sylus that was holding it together. A brief moment of confusion flits across his face.

He remembers what the scientists had told him when he failed to resonate with the hunter. That they wouldn’t be able to resonate because she was disgusted and angry with him. And in striking clarity -- he knows for a fact that it’s not him holding them back from resonating like he previously thought. It’s you.

“What’s happening?” You says, seeming a little panicked as the bond only tightens the more you try to pull away. In fact, the link tightens so much that you stumble forward into his arms. The more you try to get away from him, the closer you get.

“Hm.” Sylus says, staring at it. He’s currently trying to make sure he isn’t smiling -- this might be a small win, and he knows he has more opportunities to remedy your relationship. “I have a theory.”

“Okay -- so spill,” you say, your eyes widening at him. “I have work tomorrow, and I can’t bring you with me! You’re a crime boss!”

“We’re linked because you’re mad at me,” he finally says. “Or disgusted. Or --- you hate me.” He almost can’t get the words out. Because you can’t. You can’t hate him. There is so much he never got to do with you. You blink at him several times before it clicks -- you’re both bonded until he can fix what he broke.

[lexirosewrites]

Early submission for slick Sunday:

Omega Steve is disowned by his parents before he can graduate high school, so he drops out to afford rent and bills by working odd jobs around town. He doesn’t mind it, but a lot of people are hesitant to hire an omega as a handyman because they’re still very old school in Hawkins.

Cue Wayne Munson being so busy working at the plant, he doesn’t have time to fix the little things around the house and his nephew just “ain’t that handy and I’d rather pay someone to do it right than risk it worse than it started.”

Steve gets a call nearly once a week from him. First is fixing the bottom porch step so Eddie stops tripping on the damn thing. Then it’s fixing the fan in the bathroom so they don’t have a mold problem on top of all their other problems. Eventually it’s mowing the grass and picking up groceries.

Steve loves it, and gives him a hell of a discount because he loves it so much. It feels like he’s taking care of a home, of people who he genuinely cares about. Even though he’s yet to see Eddie in person, he carries the notes he leaves him in his wallet.

Leftovers in the fridge if you want. Wayne apparently thinks I need three meals in one

Left the porch light on since I’ll be back late. Be safe

Found this flower in the yard this morning. Thought you’d like it

Steve has a crush on someone he’s never actually talked to. He doesn’t even know for sure if he’s an alpha.

He finds out for sure when Wayne calls him one Monday morning bright and early and apologizes for bothering him over something so stupid, but could he please go check on Eddie at the trailer? He’s been sick for over a day and was supposed to call Wayne at work this morning but didn’t, and didn’t answer any of Wayne’s calls either.

Steve agrees, no charge, because he doesn’t have anywhere to be until lunchtime anyway when he’s cleaning Ms. Hill’s gutters.

The trailer smells a bit sour, remnants of the coffee Wayne probably made hours ago still lingering, but the main smell is sick alpha. He rushes to make tea, knowing exactly where Wayne keeps everything, and then figures out if he has time to run to the store to get stuff for homemade soup when Eddie’s bedroom door opens.

Love at first sight only happens in movies, or so Steve thought.

Eddie is flush, sweaty, hair a tangled mess, shirtless, and miserable.

Steve wants to tuck him into bed and lay on top of him so he never leaves.

If Eddie felt better, he’d probably do something about the way Steve looks at him, or the way Steve smells, or the way he’s wanted Steve since he first saw him his freshman year of high school. He wants him just as much now, maybe more.

Steve calls Wayne to let him know he’s alive, and that he’s gonna take care of him as much as he can. Eddie sits at the table sipping tea, listening to the promises Steve makes.

Steve has to reschedule with Ms. Hill, who understands when he explains that he’s taking care of his alpha.

He doesn’t leave Eddie’s side until Wayne is home that night, and that’s only because it felt inappropriate to be half naked in bed with his nephew while they talked. Wayne asks if he can come back the next day and if he doesn’t mind taking payment when he gets his next paycheck.

Eddie’s face falls when he thinks that Wayne is paying him to be there.

“I’ll come. No need to pay me. I’d like to take care of him.”

And he does.

Eddie gets better much faster with Steve taking care of him, and Steve feels proud of himself that he did so well. He nursed Eddie back to health the way good omegas should.

There’s a note on the door when Steve comes back a few days later. It’s addressed to Steve.

Meet me at the pool tonight at 10? - Ed

Steve leaves the pool with a boyfriend and a courting gift: one single sunflower that Eddie found on the side of the road.

Two weeks later, he has a mate and a whole bouquet of sunflowers that Eddie used all of his money to buy for his omega.

so cute!!!🥰

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Charles or Lewis x reader where reader comforts them after they were disqualified in the chinese prix? I feel so bad for them 😭😭

In the Wake of Shadows

Word count: 551

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: After a devastating disqualification at the Chinese Grand Prix, Lewis Hamilton returns home, weighed down by disappointment.

________________________________________________________

The scent of home-cooked food filled the apartment, a warm contrast to the cold weight in Lewis’s chest. Y/N had been in the kitchen for hours, carefully preparing his favorite meal. She wanted everything to be perfect—not just the taste but the comfort it would bring.

When the door finally opened, she turned to see him standing there, his body heavy with exhaustion. His eyes were dull, his usual bright energy dimmed by the weight of the day.

“Hey, love,” she said softly, wiping her hands on a towel as she walked over to him.

Lewis barely managed a small smile, his shoulders slumping as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He exhaled a slow, shaky breath and buried his face into the crook of her neck. She felt the tension in his muscles, the quiet defeat in the way he clung to her just a second longer than usual.

“I made your favorite,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You probably didn’t eat properly today.”

Lewis let out a soft chuckle, though it lacked his usual lightness. “You always know what I need.”

She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks. “Yeah, well, you take care of everyone else. Someone’s gotta take care of you.”

Guiding him to the table, she watched as he took in the meal she’d prepared—every detail meant to comfort him. He sat down, exhaling slowly. “This looks amazing, baby.”

She sat beside him, resting her hand over his. “You know, I’ve been thinking about Sunday, and I get why you’re upset. It’s frustrating and unfair. But that wasn’t on you, Lew. You already showed everyone this weekend that you’re still the GOAT.���

He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did I, though?”

She scoffed. “You won the sprint, Lewis. You drove that car to the top. It worked out last race because of you. Sundays mess? That’s on the team, not your ability.”

He stared at her for a moment, the words sinking in. She squeezed his hand. “One bad call doesn’t erase everything you’ve done. And it sure as hell doesn’t change the fact that you’re still one of the greatest to ever do this.”

For the first time all evening, his expression softened. He turned his hand over to lace his fingers through hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

She grinned. “No, but you’re stuck with me anyway.”

He chuckled, the sound finally carrying warmth again. “Thank God for that.”

She nudged his arm. “Now eat before I start spoon-feeding you.”

Lewis smirked. “You just want an excuse to baby me, don’t you?”

She winked. “You caught me.”

As he took his first bite, a quiet sigh of relief left his lips. The weight of the disqualification still lingered, but in that moment—with Y/N by his side—he felt just a little lighter.