#i feel like smut again

[fantasycorrupted-a]

me: i kinda suck at writing spicy interactions tbh

also me: but they can be soft tho....

[shouyuus]

very 18+, vi-shaped, modern underground fighter!au tw: in which vi uses a vibrating strap d1ldo and also fucks ur throat

popular underground fighter vi! x reader in which vi "soft launches" your relationship with this photo posted on instagram with clear red nail marks down her back and just the caption "post fight ritual 💋" and it's obvious that her knuckles are still bruised, but someone else made those marks on her back and they're definitely not from any fight she's ever been in.

and it's not like she's a stranger to people thirsting over her posts -- she kinda knows she's hot. or at least, she's been told enough times to know it empirically, but it still stuns her a little when she catches you staring, or when she sees the way your pupils literally dilate in her presence; it's not something that she grew up hearing, always being told that she's too tomboy or that she's not feminine enough, even though her own family never cared, and they've always supported her no matter how she wanted to dress or what she wanted to do.

you, though. she doesn't know how she got so lucky with you.

she might call it a chance meeting, but later on, you'd admit that you'd had your eye on her for weeks, thought she was so, so pretty, even with all her black eyeliner and her choppily cut hair (she does it herself; oh, you could tell? why? what gave it away? the weirdly uneven buzz or the fact that she totally missed a patch at the back of her head?), and you'd put yourself squarely in the line of her sight and hoped (prayed, really) that she'd notice you.

and notice you she did.

wearing that pretty little sundress of yours, leaning up against the bar of her favorite lesbian haunt, the one she goes to nine times outta ten after her fights, the adrenaline's still high, eating through her veins, the tattoo of her pulse pressing against her ribcage.

she'd pushed off the far wall and caged you in against the dark wood of the bar, turning her charm up to eleven and hoping against hope that she wasn't just imagining things when she saw your gaze run up and down the length of her body (she wasn't).

"hey pretty. thought you might wanna take a closer look."

you'd grinned then, caught someplace between bashful and triumphant.

"but... it's so dark and so... loud," you say, letting your hand linger on her shoulder even as you put up the very convincing front of uncertainty, the blatant tease of your words the only thing cueing her off that you were picking up what she was putting down.

"yeah? then... wanna go somewhere quiet where you can... take a better look in peace?"

vi's apartment, despite all the winnings from her fights, was a modest place, a small studio in the heart of the city, though the floor the ceiling windows are really what caught your eye that first time she brought you over.

that, and the giant mirror that covered the length of an entire wall opposite the windows.

"so i can check my form," vi says when you ask, running a tall glass under the tap water, holding it out to you afterwards.

and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been expecting a hookup. and honestly, so had you. but somehow, the pair of you had just ended up curled on the couch, sitting face to face, sharing stories and laughing. the next you looked up, the pink of dawn was teasing across the far skyline and vi was frowning at the dying phone in her hand, her eyebrows hitched.

"holy shit... it's 6am."

you bury your face in the cushions of the couch, your hands still wrapped around a half-empty cup of spiked apple cider (a bottle of martinelli's at the back of her fridge, along with a half-empty thing of grey goose she'd found, tugging the cap out with her teeth), feeling the tiredness drag at your eyelids.

"oops... sorry," you grin sheepishly at her, "usually, when i keep people up all night, it's not like this."

vi laughs at your tired little innuendo, but her eyes soften when she catches you watching her. and for some stupid, unfathomable reason, she feels her cheeks heating up.

"yeah peaches. i figured. but... i don't mind being kept up like this."

your brows furrow even as a grin threatens your lips as she nudges you with her hand. you shift back, making room for her as she sits down in front of you, close enough for you to feel the heat rolling off her skin.

beyond the windows, a brilliant sunrise is peering out over the city, and the sharp, shard-drawn light of it pierces vi's studio as she reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her thumb and forefinger trailing the line of your cheek till she's coaxing your chin up towards her.

"peaches?" you ask, your breath a bit short.

"yeah," her eyes flicker towards the tiny little stud earrings you'd put in, truly miniscule peach-emojis that you'd picked to match the shade of your dress. and you laugh, the tiredness making the air around you both effervescent.

and that was the first of many nights you'd proceed to spend at vi's, though eventually, she does drag you forward to kiss you, her lips insistent against yours, with you pulling back to gasp -- "took you long enough --" against her only for her to sink her teeth into the bared skin of your neck, letting her fingers curl around the delicate pulse-point nestled there as she says --

"they say good things come to those who wait."

neither of you can truly pinpoint the moment where this... thing became something more. something that neither of you had the words or will to deny any longer.

it might've come up the first time vi pressed three fingers into your sopping cunt, her eyes fixed on the way your expression goes slack, how your hips kicked up at every curl of her expert fingers. or perhaps the first time you'd pushed her back and kissed a line down her front, lavished her body with your lips, teasing and nipping at her tits before making your slow, arduous way down to her clenching cunt, licking up the wet slit before latching your mouth around her clit and sucking hard enough for her eyes to roll out of her eye-sockets.

or maybe the first time she'd pulled out her bright pink strap, the base equipped with a vibrating function and an opposing dildo that hooked into vi's pussy as she rucked her hips into yours, fucking into you so hard that tears had creased in your lashes after she was done with you.

"fuck peaches -- you just look so good cumming on my cock, don't you?"

and that's all it takes these days, a smirk, a slap on the ass, and her voice saying peaches for you to feel your body clench over nothing, for your stomach to curl with heat, even if she's just coming over to press a kiss to your cheek or murmur against your skin, asking how your day went, though sometimes, you'd get shy and your voice would get a bit too quiet.

"c'mon, speak up, doll. and look at me when i'm talking to you, yeah?"

her fingers squeezing your jaw, just tight enough to make you gasp.

and no one questions it; bc why would they? her coach is ecstatic -- not like vi's ever been an unfocused fighter, but these days, she's in such tip-top form that he's not got much feedback for her after her long training sessions.

"whoever she is," vander says, grinning even as vi flushes and sighs (she knows it's useless to lie, vander's known her for way, way too long), "she's good for you."

he presses a hand to her shoulder, shaking her slightly, "and my advice? when you find a girl like that -- you grab on with both hands and you don't let go."

so that's what she does, and what she's still doing now. it's been months -- almost a full year since you've made it all "official", though neither of you have posted much about it online (her fans have been speculating for a while though, specially the hardcore ones, the ones who have been with her long enough to know her, to spot how she scans the crowd before and after every right, how her smile's just a bit different these days, how there seems to be one particular girl she's always winking at, always hidden in the shadows but she's always swiveling around the first thing after a fight, win or lose).

"f-fuck -- that's a good girl --" vi groans, her hips jerking against yours as she fucks you through your third orgasm of the night (she'd wone her fight that night -- as she does most nights -- and you'd come over to celebrate), your nails biting into the skin of her back, dragging down the expansive tattoo there.

she feels the burn in her own thighs, her arms flexing, the veins popping blue as she drags you down the length of the bed by your hips, fucking into you, her eyes trained on the sticky white ring at the base of her pink strap, the sight in and of itself enough to send her over the edge.

"c'mere -- open your mouth, peaches," she says, guiding you towards her even as she pulls out of you, a thick string of cum slicking off the head of her strap as she inches up the bed to position herself over your chest and shoulders.

you let your jaw fall slack, moaning thick as she presses the tip of her strap to your tongue. you blink up at her, lashes fluttering as she sinks her fingers into your hair, hissing out a long breath as you swallow around her length.

"sweet fuck that's hot..."

she pulls you over her cock in shallow thrusts, her breath growing quick as she watches the way you eagerly clean your own cum off of her with your tongue, the completely fucked out, blissed out look in your eyes as you look up at her, so utterly besotted and at her mercy.

her feels the coils twist in her gut seconds before she shoves you down over her, the combined sound of your gagging and the pinpoint vibrations of the dildo sending her right over the edge.

"shit, shit -- shit oh -- fuck... mm..."

her fingers fist in your hair as she jerks around the dildo end of the strap, tugging out of your mouth with a lazy, lopsided smile.

"such a good girl for me, hm?" she says, tugging you up for an open-mouthed kiss. you mewl against her lips, so soft, absolutely melting into her arms as she shifts the both of you into the center of the bed.

it's not till she goes to shower later, with you sound asleep in her mussed up blankets, that she sees the marks -- red and raised on her back, scratched over her tattoo. a soft smile lifts her lips as she stares at her own reflection in the mirror, her neck twisting over her shoulder to get a good look.

and before she knows it, she's grabbing her phone and turning around to snap a pic, with the full intent of keeping it just to show you in the morning but... well, she thinks as she stares down at the photo with a dopey sort of grin, her heart thudding dangerously close to her mouth.

maybe the best gift she could give you on your one-year anniversary is this -- telling the world that she's yours.

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

God, the intimacy of Astarion feeding from you.

Astarion drinking from your neck as he pulls your body closer to his in bed, his chest up against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist. It's a casual thing, now, his whispered can I? and your answering nod, as much a part of your bedtime routine as your bath or his curl care. You sigh as his fangs pierce your skin and his fingers flex against your stomach. His breath hitches when the taste of you hits his tongue, and that's familiar too, the physicality of it, the noises he makes low in his throat as he drinks, the way he grows warmer against you as your blood begins to flow through his veins. Nothing else makes you feel so heady, so intoxicated- so comforted.

Astarion drinking from your wrist when he’s starving for it and can’t wait to get you more comfortable. Pulling him into an alleyway one night on the way home from the Elfsong because you can see how badly he's craving in the way he can't keep his eyes off of the pulse point in your neck. He seizes your arm with both hands (can I? Yes-), bringing the soft skin on the inside of your wrist to his lips. He has just enough presence of mind to kiss the heel of your hand distractedly before he bites, fangs sliding through your skin and into the vein. The sound he makes can only be described as a growl, something feral and possessive (and you'll never tell him that it turns you on, since he would be insufferable about it- a promise to yourself that lasts exactly as long as the space between the moment and the next time you're tipsy and want him).

(NSFW Below!)

Astarion drinking from your inner thigh, one hand holding your leg steady and the other cupping your cunt. You groan, eyes shut in pleasure, as his thumb comes to rub your clit. The pain of the bite is barely pain this way- it collides with the pleasure in your belly and sends you almost out of your mind, overwhelmed with sensation and heat. He takes you all the way there, takes just enough from you to have you relaxed and pliant and soaring somewhere above your own body, plays you like an instrument with all the knowledge of you he's gathered over the months, the years. He knows when you're close, knows to crook his fingers inside you just so, knows the reaction he's going to get when he pulls away from your thigh for just a moment and looks up at you with dark eyes and tells you to come for him, he wants to see it, you fall apart so beautifully and it's all for him, isn't it, tell him how good he makes you feel and when you climax with his voice in your ear and the scent of blood on the air he has the audacity to laugh at how well he understands you, your body.

He's soft, after, softer than he'll ever be with anyone who isn't you. He licks you clean before he takes you to the bath, carrying you with the strength your lifeblood gives him. It's the least he can do for you, with everything you've given him: not just your body, but your trust, your closeness, and he will never stop being grateful.

[benevolenterrancy]

Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

[k3n-dyll]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; 18+, wlw, subtop!sevika, dom!reader, bondage, strap referred to as a dick/cock, afab!reader, strap sucking, strap on usage (r!receiving), riding, spit, oral (S!receiving), squirting, porn w/o a plot, not proofread

𝐖𝐂 - 3.3k

𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ Took a break and just yapped for a while but the fics are back! Sub!Sev truthers, come get y'all juice!

Subtop!Sevika that was...reluctant to let you do this at best. Initially, when you asked, she fully thought you were joking.

"You want to what?" Her head tilted slightly to one side as she questioned you, her brow quirked upward as an amused, almost teasing smile played at the corners of her lips.

"C'mon Sev, I'm serious." You say, playfully rolling your eyes at your girlfriend. "I wanna be in charge tonight...and...maybe, I dunno... tie you up?"

To her it was kind of funny, actually - the woman she so often reduces to nothing more than a whining, drooling puddle beneath her suddenly thinks she would even know what to do in the event that Sevika went along with this. It was bold of you to even suggest it. So bold that she decided to say 'fuck it' and entertain your little fantasy.

Subtop!Sevika who almost chuckles at how gently you lace the ropes around her wrists, teasing you about how you can pull them tighter.

"I'm not made of glass, baby"

You just shake your head a little, but you do go in to tighten them a little more before stepping back and admiring your work. She looks more vulnerable than you've ever seen her like this - wrists bound to the headboard, naked except for the silicone strapped to her hips. The sight sends heat pooling in your panties.

As much as she tries to hide the movement, Sevika finds herself squirming against the harness in an effort to soothe the growing ache between her legs. You chuckle but you can't say you blame her. You aren't exactly aiming to make this easy for her - tauntingly ridding yourself of one article of clothing at a time, moving painstakingly slow as you watch her try to keep it together.

The frustration that courses through her at the realization that she can't touch you isn't something she anticipated. She's always prided herself on her restraint, her ability to keep herself grounded. But as she watches you crawl up toward her, settling your body between her legs, that confidence is lost.

Subtop!Sevika who groans like she can feel it when your lips wrap around the tip of the toy, her brows pulled together as she watches your head begin to bob up and down, coating it down to the base with your saliva, lightly gagging as you work.

"Fuck you're driving me insane, baby..."

Her sharp silver eyes track your every movement, her own hips gently bucking upward to make sure it goes deep into your throat, the visual alone making her gush. You pull your mouth away with a soft 'pop' before leaning up to kiss her, a string of spit connecting your lips as you pull back to lower yourself down on her, letting out a soft groan as you feel yourself stretch around the girth.

"Don't move" You warn, the slight shifting of her legs behind you indicating that she intends on bucking into you the first chance she gets. "You do that, you don't cum tonight."

Sevika scoffs at your words, but she doesn't try to call your bluff. She's made that threat before. Hell, she's made good on that threat before and she has no doubt that you would jump at the first opportunity for payback if it came to that.

"Fine." She huffs out, forcing her hips still.

Subtop!Sevika who knows with one good tug - she could easily break these binds and go to town on you if she wanted. You know it too. Even if her flesh hand wasn't able to break through, her mech arm could saw, slice, or yank its way through the ropes without so much as a strain. And yet here she is, letting you torture her. Letting you use her.

"You look s'good up there...riding my fucking dick like that" Sevika stifles a whine, the base of the toy pushing up against her clit with every movement, her eyes drinking in the sight of your body moving on top of her. The way your chest heaves with heavy breath, your hair wild and sticking to you with sweat, the way your tits bounce as you ride her. "I- I wanna move... I - let me move, please"

She'd intended to sound much more commanding than she had, her flustered expression indicative of just how unintentional that desperate plea had been. Her brows are furrowed in frustration, fingernails of her flesh hand curling deep into the calloused skin of her palm. A soft, mocking chuckle escapes your throat at the sight.

"Are you begging, Sev?"

"No, I'm not fuckin'-"

You cut her off with a soft shake of your head, a hand resting loosely on her throat as you slow your movements to a stop.

"Wrong answer, Sev. Try again"

Her jaw clenches and she lets out a huff, opening her mouth as she readies herself to protest, but your hand tightens around her throat before she can get another word out, the action shocking her enough to shut herself up again. You have a lot more restraint and conviction to this than she'd initially thought.

"You're really serious, aren't you?"

You just tilt your head and stare down at her, squeezing a bit tighter at her throat. A shiver surges through her body, abs clenching as she tries and fails to ignore how much the sudden authority you have over her in this moment is turning her on.

"Fuck - fine, baby, just...just lemme fuck you... please? I wanna make you feel good..."

You can't help another dark chuckle that escapes past your lips at the sound of her normally strong, commanding voice becoming shaky and frustrated as she begs to fuck you, her sharp, scowling features softening into what could almost be described as a little pout. It's cute. And as tempted as you are to make her beg more, that vulnerability in her expression is something you rarely get to see. It warms you to think about how much trust she has for you to even let this happen in the first place, and god, you'd be a fool to say 'no' to those big pretty eyes.

"Well, since you asked so nicely pretty girl..."

You lean down to press your lips to her own, and before you can pull back or say anything else her hips are bucking up off of the mattress in a single hard thrust, Sevika grunting into your mouth at the limited freedom she's been allowed. You take her hands in yours, holding them to either side of the headboard. It's the only thing that stops her from pulling out of the binds on her wrists and grabbing your waist, and the only thing keeping you balanced with each, slow, aggressive upward snap of her hips.

Sevika's gaze is fixed in on your hips and thighs, watching them jiggle as she fucks up into you, her large hands wrapping around your own to keep you there. Her restraint visibly falters as her pace picks up, the muscles in her legs and core being forced to do most of the work with her arms no longer being an option, the added obstacle just making her grunt and moan and huff that much more, the usual filth that spills from her lips barely coherent through her haze.

"Love doin' this t'you baby, fuck...could fill you up like this every day.."

You, of course, aren't any better, your responses coming out as nothing but whimpers and unintelligible praise at how good she's doing for you. For a brief moment, you forget your role in this, begging to cum nearly just as much as she's begging you to let her take you, and, though uncharacteristically, she doesn't even try to take advantage of the slip, too focused on pleasing you to care who's in charge right now.

"Fuck, I'm- Sev-" You stumble over your own words, but she knows exactly what you mean to say, forcing herself to keep up her pace despite the burning in her muscles, her grip on your hands becoming more firm.

"Cum for me, please... wanna see you fall apart"

You're practically done for at the sound of her breathy pleas, the sight of her desperation and the tip of her cock hitting up against your sweet spot pushing you over your boiling point all too easily. The mess you make would be embarrassing if not for how good it feels, your core tensing up, breath caught in your throat as your juices squirt against Sevika's strap as well as her lower stomach. It takes every bit of energy you have to not collapse on top of her quite yet, knowing full well she needs to cum just as badly as you had, and you intend to give her that

"Such a good girl for me..." You murmur breathlessly. "See how easy it was to listen to me?" You ask, though you don't give her the chance to answer with much of anything but a lazy nod before your lips are on hers again, the kiss hard and messy. When you begin trailing said kisses down her neck though she takes pause, a look of slight concern taking over her features

"You're tired, take a break" she murmurs, pretending to be okay with not getting what she wants yet despite her obvious squirming.

You just roll your eyes and shake your head, not stopping your advances in the slightest, hands already running down her body and undoing the harness to the strap-on to pull it away from her soaked cunt.

"You don't get to say when I'm done this time, love, remember?"

There's an unmistakable tinge of shyness that consumes her when you pull the toy away from her body, the woman having to shift her eyes to the side to stifle a whine as you stare down at just how wet she's gotten, the patch of dark hair above her slit glistening with arousal, her clit swollen, walls clenching around nothing - all from just watching you use her.

"Eyes on me pretty girl" You tease, to which she just grunts in mock annoyance. It's a short-lived reaction though. Sevika can only feign indifference for so long, and the sight of you sinking down in between her legs isn't exactly helping her case. She spreads them apart without needing to be asked, unconsciously showing just how fucking eager she is to have you touch her directly, and you waste zero time in obliging her, licking and sucking at the skin of her lower stomach and thighs, tasting the mess you left behind on her body. You don't tease, or try to make her wait or beg this time - as obedient as she's been, she's only going to be able to take so much more, and overpowering you would be an easy feat.

Sevika watches with bated breath as you keep the mix of saliva and squirt in your mouth, your middle and ring fingers tracing gentle lines along her slit before you push the tips of them into her entrance.

"Oh fuck..." A shaky moan pulls from her mouth at the sight of your lips parting, the liquid flowing freely from your bottom lip and onto her already soaked pussy, leading a path from her pulsing clit and down to your fingers as you begin working them in and out of her hole, the combination of juices squelching inside of her with each pump. You can already tell this won't take long with the way her thigh muscles are flexed, a miserably failed attempt to keep them from shaking.

"So fucking pretty, Sev..." You press a kiss to her hardened bud, which makes her twitch against your lips, her soft, warm walls fluttering around your fingers. She's completely abandoned the idea of keeping her little whimpers at bay, making this all the more amusing to you.

"You've gotta let me do this more often if you're gonna sound like this every time..."

"Oh, shut up"

You hum in response, nodding slightly. "I guess there are more fun things I could be doing with my mouth right now, huh?"

The second your tongue makes contact with her sensitive core, Sevika's back arches up off of the bed a bit, her body tensing a little. She wants so desperately to grab the back of your head and shove you further between her thighs but she forces herself to stay calm and in place, balling her hands up into fists and screwing her eyes shut when she feels your tongue start to move in gentle circles against her clit.

"Eyes open, love" You remind her, your free hand coming down to leave a stinging slap against her leg. She whimpers a little but does as she's told, her lids low as she makes herself keep eye contact with you. The only sounds to rival her unrestrained moaning and hard, heavy breaths are the almost obnoxious wet sloshing of your tongue and fingers working her closer to orgasm, your own moans muffled as you press your face even closer to her cunt, her hair tickling against the tip of your nose.

"Please...more - fuck - more, I need more, please"

Begging comes much easier to her now, both because her brain is scrambled and because you're purposefully going so. Fucking. Slow. The gentle pump of your fingers and soft lapping of your tongue against her feels amazing but hell if she doesn't need more than that right now.

"I know, baby, I know..."

When Sevika's in your position, she's much less susceptible to whining and pleading. She loves edging you - getting you right up to that peak before forcing you back down again and repeating it over and over until you can't take it anymore, but you're also much more used to being made to wait. You like it, actually. Sevika on the other hand looks like she might cry or yell and given that this is an entirely new side of her, you're nothing if not a sucker for her right now.

Your lips wrap around the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs, gently sucking and pulling her further into your mouth, your fingers plunging in and out of her, curling up inside of her dripping hole nearly fast enough to hurt your wrist. You ignore the slight burning in place of allowing her increasing volume and the trembling of her body to distract you, watching her core clench and unclench as her breathing becomes more labored and uneven. She's a sight to behold in this state - brown skin glistening in the dim light with sweat, bottom lip wet and swollen from incessant tugging with her teeth as she uselessly tries to keep herself from being too loud, her short dark hair tousled messily atop her head. Her hips are grinding hard against your face, wetting your nose and chin with her arousal as she tries to pull you impossibly closer to her cunt than you already are, her thick thighs trapping you against her body with no way out - not that you were ever intending to move away from her in the first place.

"Fuckfuckfuck - I'm g'na cum, please let - lemme cum on your fucking face, baby"

Sevika's speech is that of a drunk woman - slurred and vulgar despite the lack of alcohol in her system - and when she's finally pushed to orgasm whatever words she was going to say are reduced into little more than random, breathy syllables that don't so much as start a full sentence. By complete accident, her body tenses up so much that she winds up breaking the rope her flesh hand had been tied up in completely, her fingers quickly finding their place tangled into your messed hair to keep you flush against her as she uses your face to ride out her orgasm, her hips stuttering with the aftershocks of finishing so hard. As difficult as it is for you to breathe like this you allow her to get what she needs out of you, even going a bit further until she starts palming at the top of your head, trying to push you off.

"Stop - too much" She manages through quivering breaths, a small and utterly fucked out smile crossing her lips.

You plant one more kiss against her clit before you come up for air, letting out a breathy chuckle as the cool air hits the bottom half of your face in stark contrast to the warmth you'd just been snuggled up against. Sevika finds herself giggling breathlessly at the sight of you - you're wet up to the tip of your nose, her scent filling your nostrils with each inhale. Not that you mind, clearly. Slowly, you slip your fingers out of her, causing one more full-body tremor to go through the half-tied-up woman beneath you, your hand immediately going up to your mouth so you can clean up her mess, moaning at the taste of her.

"Guess I should tie you up a little tighter next time, huh?" You say, a playful look in your eye as you gesture to her now free hand and the broken rope hanging limply around the headboard.

Sevika only nods. You half expected her to question your statement about there being a 'next time', but by the look on her face, she wants this to happen more often between you two. She loves being in charge, but being able to just let go for a bit - to not think and just allow you to do as you please - it felt good. Your lips trace sloppy kisses up her body until you reach her lips, catching them in a soft kiss that lingers for a few moments before you pull back. The sheets are drenched, and so are both of your bodies and your face - clean up would be the next logical step here, but Sevika has no intention of letting you up yet. She twists her mech arm out of its binds and wraps both arms around your waist before your foot gets the chance to hit the floor.

"Stay." She grumbles, pulling you beside her again despite your confusion.

"We can cuddle after we get you cleaned up, baby"

Sevika just shakes her head again, almost petulantly, her brows knitting together in annoyance at you for daring to care about being clean right now.

"Just for a bit. Then we can clean up" She mumbles again, standing on her point.

Sevika isn't usually this adamant about cuddling. She enjoys doing it, of course, but when the roles are reversed, getting you clean and comfortable on a new set of sheets is her first priority. Realistically, she knows she's going to wobble too much if she tries to get up now, but she's still bullheaded, even after everything. She doesn't want to give you the satisfaction of saying it aloud so she just holds you down instead.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head a bit at her stubbornness, but you do as she asks and stop resisting her, nuzzling against her chest as you lay down with her, the woman rolling the both of you over a bit to avoid to cold spot on the sheets. Mindlessly, you pull her leg up onto your hip, tracing patterns into her thigh and massaging the muscles there, her real hand doing the same against your back.

"You okay?" You ask after a beat of silence.

She nods.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine...don't...make me get sappy" She mutters and you laugh. You know Sevika like the back of your hand at this point, and it's always been a bit hard for her to verbally express when she's feeling vulnerable. You know that entire display was the most open she's let herself be with anyone in a while, and she's likely more than a little embarrassed at the moment even though she won't say it. You chuckle a little bit.

"Okay, love. Get some rest for me...you big baby."

Reblogs are appreciated || Donations 4 Palestine - Arcane Masterlist

Taglist ; @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut @sevsbaby, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,  @strawberry-shortcakey , @dinakisser, @urbayolet

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[saleeba]

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off. 

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person. 

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad. 

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends. 

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for. 

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.” 

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it. 

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words. 

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though. 

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other. 

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel. 

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests. 

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again. 

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude 

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late. 

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole  – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry. 

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head. 

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home. 

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up. 

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision. 

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs. 

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now. 

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely. 

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy. 

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s. 

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.” 

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release. 

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,” 

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste. 

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once. 

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions. 

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones. 

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.  

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail. 

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

[bratbarzal]

On My Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico "I think the hockey gods were on my side" Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy

WC: 6k

part of the On Your Side universe

*This is a bonus chapter set after the ending of the overall fic, and can be read as a standalone if you haven't read the fic, but if you want to understand their dynamic and Poppy's personality a little more, you should!!!

Description: 18+ MDNI, Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils. Way more fluff than smut but Nico is down bad as always.

A/N: You're all a bunch of enablers and that's all I have to say on the matter!!! Hope this fills the void while I continue to struggle with chapter ten lmao there is mention of Baby Cheeto in here but no spoilers for her name. Nico calls her Bug as a nickname, like _____-Bug, Chäferli (little bug) or just Bug for short, but it isn't her actual name. I can't use Cheeto forever lmao. I was literally trying to think of a title and remembered he said the words "on my side" WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HE'S A MASTERMIND he's an oys!truther if I ever saw one! Painfully obsessed with Poppy if you ask me. Also the way Cheeto would rock the heck out of this it's so cute I had to share

Nico Hischier likes to think he’s a patient man.

Finally scoring his first career hat-trick after 8 years in the NHL, after 476 games played with the Devils, would be the ultimate testament to that.

Doing so in the first ever game with his daughter in attendance - on home turf, his mother and Poppy holding her up in the family suite during warm-ups in her little Devils teddy sleeper that he can only just make out from down on the ice, but has his rampant heart beating out of his chest all the same - has him thinking that maybe, after all those years, after all those games, the stars had been aligning for him the whole time. 

And it was that sort of patience he had tried to tune into since the end of the second period, when he knew Poppy had left early to try skip traffic and get their little girl home safe for bed.

It’s what he tries to channel in the aftermath of the game, swarmed by reporters in the locker room, trying to remain polite and professional, not rushing them through their questions or giving half-assed answers - knowing he owes a lot more than that to the organisation that has allowed him to get this far. Trying to save just a speck of energy to give when he finally gets home, collapsing into the warm embrace of the girls he knows are waiting patiently for him.

It’s what he holds onto when he has to take a detour on his way home, dropping his mom off at her hotel and trying not to visibly squirm in his seat as she regales him with stories of how his daughter had captured the hearts of everyone she encountered, swallowing down the slight jealousy that he hadn’t been there to see it and clinging to the fact that he had his own success elsewhere in the night - success that played second fiddle in his own mother’s eyes to the experience of sharing her granddaughter’s first ever game with her, an experience he had to endure twice as she called his father from his car, deep chuckles ringing through the speakers as he tried to get a word in edge ways beyond her excitement.

It’s what has him shaking with anticipation as he almost skips down the hall to their apartment, mustering up the rest of his energy to walk into their home without the weight of the world on his shoulders, leaving any doubt, any insecurity, any lingering self-deprecation at the door so he can bask in this moment with the two hearts that are shaped entirely to fit him into them.

And it’s what has him shaking off whatever disappointment tries to creep in when he sees his little girl asleep in Poppy’s arms, knowing whatever tiny part of her he will ever get will always be enough - even if her big, glassy eyes aren’t looking up at him, even if he doesn’t come home to one of those heart-stopping beaming smiles she has started to give to him whenever he enters the room - her being here, sleeping safely in the arms of her beautiful mother, and him getting to come home to whatever version of them he can, is more than he could ever ask for.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hat-trick hero.” Poppy’s soft voice carries to him as he makes his way over, dropping his bag on the floor and keys on the counter, heading straight to where she is now standing and pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“She didn’t wanna say goodnight to her daddy, huh?” He tries not to sound too dejected - he’s supposed to be on a high, after all - but after half an hour of his mother unintentionally bragging about all the attention she had been giving to her Gromi all night, he can’t help the slight sag of his shoulders - especially knowing that she’s going to be spending the morning with his mom tomorrow, too.

“Sorry, baby, we watched a little of you on the TV and then she got hangry,” Nico finds himself hypnotised by her still figure, enamoured with the way she exudes sheer calmness. The smile that creeps up on his lips seems to do so by muscle memory - a dopey kind of smile he’s probably had plastered on his face since she came into the world kicking and screaming 2 months ago, a smile permanently etched into his features from probably even before that. “I promise I tried to keep her up, she literally fell asleep on my boob.” Poppy whispers, watching with warm, glittery eyes as Nico takes in the sight of his two favourite people in front of him - Poppy already changed into one of his shirts, settled for the night, and his baby girl all cosy in her little teddy bear onesie, pacifier bobbing between her plush little lips.

“Look at her hat,” he pouts, running a finger along the folded seam of the way-too-big beanie Poppy has perched on top of her head, the knit fabric falling just short of her closed eyes. “That’s adorable.”

“Your mom put it on her before we left,” Poppy chuckles lightly, “Wanted to keep it on until you got home, we had to celebrate the hatty properly.” Her brows raise as if gesturing to the bill of the cap on her own head, one of his, he’s sure - no doubt stolen from their closet as soon as she got home.

“My little good luck charm,” he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek before he lifts himself back up and bends toward Poppy, “Gonna have to start coming to all the games.”

“I’ll let you break the news to her when she wakes up,” she hums as he presses his lips to hers, “She has a very low tolerance for everybody telling her to smile and getting all up in her space, been grouchy all night.”

“Just like Mami, huh, bug?”

“Oh, you think you’ve got jokes now?” Poppy scoffs as she steps back, ready to take their daughter to bed.  “Score your first hatty and you think you’re funny?”

“Always been funny, babe,” he smirks, flicking at the cap sat on her head before he takes it off, flipping it to place on top of his own and following her down the hall. “I’ll prove it to you when I get her first laugh.”

“She’ll be laughing at you, not with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

Nico sits on the edge of their bed as Poppy reaches into the crib to retrieve the sleeping bag in there before she lays it down beside him. He does the work unzipping and readying it for her to place their daughter inside while she rocks her still-sleeping body, and the two of them work in tandem to get her inside before zipping her back up, with Nico softly pulling the beanie from her head and watching her fluffy hair fan out in its absence. 

He runs a gentle hand over her head to smooth it down as Poppy lifts her, and leans into where she offers her up for a kiss before she puts her in the crib. Nico watches with a soft smile etched into his features, the familiarity of it all spreading warmth throughout his chest, his favourite part of every day being this - sharing a goodnight routine in the comfortable quiet, the two loves of his life safe and happy within arms reach.

None of it feels new or daunting anymore, just easy - and despite the constant warnings of it not always being this way, Nico just wants to feel it to its fullest extent; sheer happiness and serenity. 

Poppy returns to the front of him, and he instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate her, palms laying flat against his chest and his hands falling to her hips. She just looks at him for a good few seconds, eyes shimmering with admiration, lips tugged between teeth and a head tilted as her expression flickers into something more intense. 

Her hands travel down his arms, wordlessly, until she grasps at his wrists and pulls him to stand, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” she whispers while her lips are still against his skin, “Wanna celebrate you.”

As if getting to come home to her isn’t celebration enough.

He follows her back through the hall with their hands clasped together, arms stretched between them so he can watch the hem of his shirt ride up against the backs of her soft thighs, and he starts to feel his throat go dry.

He thinks of all those mornings they would spend in the kitchen together in the summer, his shirts a little tighter around her pregnant belly, riding up against her curves and leaving very little to the imagination when she’d wear just his t-shirt and nothing else.

She’s wearing panties now, he can tell, could see the bottom of them peaking out when she’d leaned over to put their daughter in her crib. But he doesn’t mind inching them off, quite likes the slow pace of unwrapping her like a gift - a well-deserved present for all his hard efforts on the ice.

It’s where his fingers find themselves almost immediately when she stops just short of the couch, spinning and practically launching herself into his waiting arms. He can’t help but chuckle as they collide, large arms wrapping around her frame as she melts into him, hands gripping either side of his jaw to pull him down in a clash of teeth and tongues. He palms at her ass as she presses her hips forward, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties and wriggling under them until his knuckles are covered by the fabric, squeezing at the flesh until she groans into his open mouth. 

He feels deft fingers working between them to rid him of his own clothes, clumsily popping open the buttons of his jacket before working their way up his chest, slipping into the arms and helping him shrug it off. The weight of it drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and when her hands return to his chest for the next item of clothing to be removed, she pushes him back with an exaggerated huff.

“Baby, how many layers do you need?”

“You in some kind of rush, or something?” He chuckles, chasing her lips with a crane of his neck, getting a quick kiss in before she pushes him back again with palms laid flat on his broad chest.

“Your daughter has some sort of radar for when we’re within 2 inches of each other,” she says as her hands slide down, the feel of them through the extra layers he has on still present as she travels past the hard ridges of his abdomen. She grasps tight at the bottom of his hoody, and he lends a hand to tugging it up and over his head, throwing that to the floor, too. “We gotta get a move on before she wakes up,”

“My daughter?” He scoffs, removing his undershirt while she’s distracted, relishing the feeling of a heavy gaze on his chest once it’s fully revealed to her hungry eyes. “She’s really given you such a hard time that you’re disowning her?”

“She isn’t letting me have a hard time at all, that’s the problem.” Her hands reach back out seemingly of their own volition, fingers fanning out across his skin as her stare glides down, the weight of it sliding down his skin to the point he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

“That was weak for you.” He teases.

“I’m out of practice,” she pouts, closing the distance once more and pressing her lips to the slightly stubbled skin of his jaw, nipping at the flesh as her ministrations travel across his features, his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear, where she mutters, “Wanna show you how proud I am of you,”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as she works at the button of his pants, pushing until they pool at his feet and he can kick them off.

“Mmhm,” she moves her kisses back to his waiting lips, “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all day,” he mutters back, bending to lift her with hands gripping her ass, “Been thinking about you teasing me in the kitchen this morning,” he starts heading for the couch, mind spinning as she continues kissing him - thinking of all the plans she had been making for the two of them while his mom takes Little Bug out in the morning, finally giving them some much needed, uninterrupted time to themselves. Plans of wasting the morning away between the sheets, sharing showers, having no responsibilities other than paying attention to one another. “Thinking about having you all to myself tomorrow."

“You gonna let me give you a preview?” 

He chuckles as he falls back onto the couch, all grace thrown out the window as they sink into the cushions, her still holding onto him and now straddling his lap, lips stretched into a blissful smile as he looks up at her.

She presses them straight to his, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way their teeth clash at her eagerness, hips grinding down onto his as she settles onto her knees.

He could spend forever kissing her like this, sensual and sloppy, the slight scratch of her nails against the sides of his neck and his grip on her thighs guiding her movements straight onto the aching growth between his legs.

He bucks up to meet her, and their lips part with a wet smack as she groans. 

"Bet you can’t wait for me to shave, eh?” he smiles as he swipes a thumb across the space between her nose and lip, the skin red raw from the scratch of his moustache.

“You know damn well I’d ban you from ever touching a razor again if I could.” She says, breathlessly, slowly thrusting down onto him.

“Tell that to your little red muzzy, you’re giving Luke a run for his money,”

“Hey,” she swats at his chest in feigned outrage, “The kid tried his best!” 

“No more talk about Hughes when you’re sat on my lap,”

“You brought him up!”

“Thought I was getting a preview,” he groans as he shuffles, reaching between them to slip a hand between her legs, tucking his fingers beneath her panties and swiping against her heat. “Jesus, Poppy.”

“Told you I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she pecks at his lips again, raising her hips a little to give him further access to slide his fingers through the almost excessive wetness that’s near enough soaked through her panties. 

He prods at her entrance, two fingers slipping straight in until she’s gasping against his cheek in sheer bliss. His digits move with ease, working his way up to his knuckles as he drinks up her pleasured moans, his chin tilting until their open mouths just press together without kissing, panting against one another as he works her up. 

He pushes the fabric of his shirt up her thighs with his other hand, exposing his handiwork to hungry eyes so he can see the way she glistens between her legs - can see the way his fingers slide in an out of her.

She takes his shirt off, throwing it beside them on the couch so she can see too, looking down for only a moment before she’s throwing her head back.

He’s so hard just watching her that it’s almost painful - straining against the seams of his briefs until they’re tenting beneath her. And she must notice, nimble fingers working him out until he’s thick and hot and heavy in her palm, gripping around him in with her thumb swiping at his tip, hips shuffling until his fingers slip out of her heat and she can move on her knees to hover above his waiting cock. 

He takes a hold of himself while her hands raise to steady herself on his shoulders, and he waits with bated breath as she lowers herself, sinking past her entrance until he’s sheathed entirely, tight, wet walls wrapped around him in a long-awaited embrace.

Their moans fall out in sync, both of them stilling, the only movements between them being the soft rise and fall of panting chests. 

It’s a minute before she starts to rock her hips, leaning back down to distract herself from whatever unease needs to fade away with the press of her lips to his - tongue swiping at his, sucking and nipping at the muscle as she works herself to the point where she can lift herself up a little.

“Fuck me,” he whines out in an elongated groan as she sinks down on him again, tight and slick and warm, and he feels tension in every cell in his body, strung taut to the point where he feels like he could snap entirely in any given moment.

“I’m working on it,” she pouts, “Think I overestimated my talents here,”

“Think you’re very talented,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her jaw as he lays large hands on the dip of her waist, fingers tickling into the arch of her back so her movements are a little smoother, a little more fluid. “So good to me, yeah? Just need a hand.”

He guides her hips into a steady rhythm - up, down, forward, back - until she’s rocking onto him in a mind numbing pace. 

God, he thinks, this is heaven.

It’s been so long since he’s had her like this. Probably all the way back in Switzerland in the summer, and he thinks a lot about this situation mirrors that - trying to stay quiet, trying to feel as much of each other as they possibly can without drawing attention from sleeping parties one room over. 

He remembers thinking, all those months ago, that it wouldn’t be possible to love Poppy any more than he did, then - that he couldn’t possibly feel more for her than he did when he shared that part of his world, and she had embraced it with open arms. She had blended straight into his family, had adapted herself to his routine, had brought new life and colour to what he had always considered vibrant, anyway, but she had changed the meaning of it all.

But she had done the same to life in Jersey. 

Long gone were any feelings of homesickness he used to get - especially around this time of the year. Fully immersed now into his season, summer seeming too far from his reach that he started to forget what home felt like. But not anymore.

Home is Poppy. Home is their baby girl sleeping soundly in the next room. It’s playing one of the greatest games of his career so far, meeting milestones he had been reaching for for so long, standing in the centre of the arena he has built his career in, hearing the rapturous cheers of fans chanting his name, and driving back knowing the love garnered there could never possibly compare to the love waiting for him in his apartment.

He brings her face down with a palm splayed gently across her jaw, fingers reaching back to tickle at the nape of her neck and thumb swiping tenderly at her soft cheekbone, until their mouths collide. He shifts his hips to meet her ministrations, finding a rhythm that has her gasping into his mouth, enough that his tongue can slip past the seam of her lips and press against hers - hot and fervid and eager.

He wonders as the pressure builds if this passion will ever wither. If this need to profess his love for her will ever wain away, if he’ll ever be casual about the way in which she has become the entire centre of his universe.

He hopes not. 

He hopes when he’s 80, he looks over at her and his heart still hammers in his chest. He hopes his mouth struggles to make sense of all the ways in which his brain tries to convey what she means to him - hopes he still stutters around his sentences and feels weak to the very base of his spine at the mere thought of her. 

In fact, he doesn’t hope at all.

He knows he will.

“You feel so good,” Poppy mutters into his mouth, panting against his swollen lips, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Yeah?” He thrusts up, “You missed being full of me?”

He’s missed this far out look in her eyes, glassed over and almost gone as she nods in response - they haven’t really been able to get to this stage with their quick fumbles and rushed hookups in the last 2 weeks since she got the all clear from her doctor for them to start being intimate again. Sure, they had developed other methods over those first 6 weeks, making good use of hands and mouths in whatever limited time they could find together, but nothing compares to this.

To being attached at every point like they are one.

“You gonna come for me?”

He still remembers her tells, fluttering lashes, trembling thighs, stuttered breaths all combined with the spine tingling way in which she tightens around him, and he manages to time it so they come together, one final burst of energy used to lift his hips just as she sinks down, body slumping into tremors that wrack through the both of them.

He holds her in place for a second, large hands pushing his shirt up her back as he starts to rub circles into her flesh, soothing her back into a softened consciousness - hazy and frazzled but still in tune with every movement he makes. 

Her nose presses into the expanse of his neck, lips pecking at all the sensitive spots she can seek out as they both try to catch their breaths - and he realises she was probably right before, they haven’t had time like this for a while now. 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.

She lifts her hips just enough for him to slip out, and reaches to the small table at the side of the couch where she has miraculously stashed a pack of baby wipes. She takes two out, using one to clean the both of them before she bundles it into the clean one and discards of it back onto the table to be disposed when she eventually gets the feeling back in her legs.

And it’s as soon as Poppy’s legs give way and she collapses into him that they both hear it - a soft wail carrying through the monitor behind the couch. Cries filling the space around them and bursting their bubble with an almighty pop!

“Told you,” Poppy mumbles into his neck, skin sticky with a soft sheen of sweat. “Won’t even let me get a hatty of my own,”

Nico scoffs, snorting out a loud chuckle that shakes where she rests on his chest, and despite her feigned irritation, she feels her cheeks puff out into a soft, unbreakable grin. “Like you’d have lasted 3 rounds.”

“What happened to me being very talented?” She pouts, mustering whatever strength she has left to push herself up, swinging a leg back over and moving to stand, only for him to grasp back at her, pulling her until her back falls into the plush of the couch.

“Talented, Poppy, not super human,” he chuckles, standing from the cushions and tucking himself back into his briefs. “I’ve got her.”

“It’s probably wind, I changed and fed her before she went down.”

He presses one last kiss to Poppy’s head before heavy feet carry him down the hall toward their bedroom, where their daughter’s crib is temporarily positioned until she starts to sleep a little further through the night. He doesn’t bother flicking the light on as he enters, able to follow his muscle memory straight over to where she is without tripping over his own feet, and he lifts her as soon as he can, cooing at her as she cries into his chest.

“I’ve got you, Chäferli,” he mutters as he rocks her gently, large hand completely encompassing where he can feel her back through her sleeping bag. “Daddy’s here,”

He reaches over to shut off the monitor before he ambles over to his and Poppy’s bed, sitting with his daughter still clutched to his chest, little hiccups coming out as his hand tries to work up her wind. 

“Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He asks, so deep into his routine of talking to her about anything and everything that he no longer second guesses it. “My little bug, you’re okay.”

It takes a good few minutes to calm her down, to the point that Nico thinks she might even be hungry and he’ll have to call Poppy in, wiggling a finger between her lips to see if she latches on, but he continues to pat and rub at her back until she burps, and her cries turn into little coos, that turn into soft pants with wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him in wonder. 

He looks down at her in the same way, dark eyes flitting across her every feature. Across the soft but thick head of hair, the crazy long eyelashes, the puffy lips and the little button nose. 

She looks so much like Poppy that he feels his chest ache every time he looks at her - but it’s a good kind of ache, a longing and content kind of ache, that only aches to remind him of everything he stands to lose if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it.

“Gromi told me you were charming everybody at daddy’s work,” he tells her with a soft smile, the pad of his finger pressing at the tip of her nose. “Says she’s gonna have to show you off around the city on her own tomorrow.”

Tiny fingers reach up to clasp around his, holding on and clutching with a grip he’s sure wasn’t so firm that morning when he had said his goodbyes. 

“Careful, bug,” he tells her, “You hold Papi’s hand too long and he won’t let you go.”

Wide eyes gleam back at him, and he watches in awe as they start to crinkle in the corners. 

He becomes all too aware of the hammering of his heart, and lays her beside him on the bed in fears that the echoing thud of it beating against his chest might disturb her. He curls up beside her, making sure she’s flat as he gets himself comfortable, and just lays there for a good few minutes, watching her as she watches him.

There isn’t a feeling in the world that compares to this, he thinks. He could score a hundred hat-tricks, have a million people chanting his name, and it won’t come close to how adored he feels in this moment, how proud he feels to have played any part in making a little human so perfect and beautiful.

He leans forward, kissing softly at her puffy cheek, careful not to press too hard that she feels the scratch of his moustache, and he relishes the little squeal of what he hopes is delight she gives in return. 

Poppy gives it 20 minutes before she decides to venture through to their bedroom, having cleaned up and busied herself sterilising bottles so they’re ready for Katja to come pick up in the morning. It’s been a rare occurrence lately that Nico has had his one-on-one time with their daughter, him being so busy with training and their trip to Florida - and he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t fess up to the ways in which it gets him down, but she knows he feels like he’s missing a lot. 

She changes so much day to day - discovers so much about the world around her - and as much as Poppy tries to save things for him to see on his own, tries to find the balance between sharing the little moments she gets with him and letting him experience them for himself, she knows there’s nothing she can do to keep that nagging voice at bay.

He’s always been that way, unable to completely silence the thoughts that tell him no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. 

He’d even done it tonight - his first career hat-trick, him being the first Swiss-born player to score a natural hat-trick, a stadium filled with fans chanting his name, dominating a team the Devils hadn’t beat at home in close to 10 years - and it hadn’t been his best performance. 

She would gladly spend the rest of her life convincing him he’s good enough, she thinks. 

Her and their little Bug being the ones who get to welcome him home after a night like tonight? She doesn’t know what she did in a past life to get the Gods on her side like this, but she’d do it again a thousand times over.

As her feet pad softly down the hall toward their room, she listens out for the soft voice she usually has the pleasure of eavesdropping on when she thinks he doesn’t know she’s hovering on the other side of the door. A soft voice that tells their little girl exaggerated stories from his day about her uncles, about his games, about whatever he got up to while he was away and what he brought back for her from his travels. But this time, it’s quiet - the peaceful kind of quiet that wraps around her like a blanket, tranquil and warming as she pushes the door open and steps into the room.

Nico is curled up on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and his arm is draped gently over their daughter’s sleeping bag, their faces inches apart as soft snores fall from their parted lips. She inches closer as quiet as she can manage, leaning over them and taking in their similar profiles - the gentle slope of their mirrored noses, dark lashes framing closed eyes that are turning darker to match her daddy’s day by day.

If anyone had told the Poppy of last November that this is where she would be now - that this is where she’d be with Nico - she never in a million years would have believed it. 

He has transformed her life in such little time that she can barely remember the before. Can barely remember a night she fell asleep in any other bed, by any other side, or woke up to anyone else. Can barely remember feeling anything close to this kind of happiness, this kind of content.

It’s like he’s introduced her to a whole new level of feelings. Ones she struggles to describe, like there’s no word in the English language that could possibly convey what he means to her.

Maybe his language has a word for it. Something that she’s never heard before, but just sounds right. Like she knew it somewhere much deeper than her brain allowed her access. She’ll have to ask him, tomorrow - when they finally have a morning to themselves and she can work up the energy to crawl out from under the sheets with him.

A part of her wishes she could take a snapshot of this moment - could send it back in time to the Poppy who never thought this kind of life would ever find her. The Poppy who was drifting, coasting, floating, afraid of landing on her own two feet and having to drag them for the rest of time through unfamiliar territories. The Poppy who pushed down her ever expanding adoration for the man currently cuddled up to their entire life in the bed they share, who convinced herself he could never possibly feel the same way, and wasted years of her life when she could have had this.

But another part of her thinks, what’s the point?

She has him, now. 

She’ll have him forever.

She allows herself to watch for a minute as they take deep breaths in sync, all the post-game tension in Nico’s body long melted away, before she quietly shuffles over to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed. 

She manages to make her way back over in the dark without stumbling, by some miracle, and reaches over to pick her baby girl up without interrupting her sleep, standing beside her crib and rocking her a little just to make sure she’s still fully drifted off - relishing the feeling of soft puffs of air falling into her neck as she cradles her.

Nico must wake at the loss of contact, instincts kicking in immediately when he can no longer feel the little body that had been resting under his protective arm, and when Poppy looks back over, she can see the reflective glint in his eyes as he watches her - soft and adoring and tooth-achingly sweet. 

Instead of putting her down, she bounces gently on her feet back over to Nico’s side of the bed, sitting beside him as he shuffles up, and the two of them just watch their daughter as she sleeps. 

For all the times they have been warned that this bliss is temporary, that it’s just a phase, Poppy can’t see it ending for as long as Nico looks at her like this. Like he has the entire world sat in front of him. 

“She was smiling at me before,” he whispers as he repositions himself, legs spread so that Poppy can sit between them. “Was trying to get her to calm down, and she was just looking straight at me with those big sparkly eyes and she smiled right at me.”

“She was doing it a little when we got home, earlier.” Poppy whispers back, hoping he doesn’t mind her raining on his parade a little to tell this story, “We just caught your interview on TV after the game, and there was this close up of you, and she smiled so big, Nico. She never smiles like that for anybody.”

“That’s ‘cause you snitch on her and tell everyone it’s gas.”

“I don’t want anyone else thinking they’re special.”

“But I am?” He asks, reaching to swipe the back of his finger softly against her cheek, the soft moonlight sifting into the room reflecting off of the ring on his finger, the quick glimmer enough to catch Poppy’s eye, to distract her so much that she can only hum in response, lips curving into a tender smile. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, the tranquility of the room a stark contrast to the way her heart erupts into thunderous applause for him - akin to that of the stadium full of fans earlier that night. Thousands of voices chanting his name, singing his praises, cheering him on for all the glory he brought to their night. He brings that to Poppy, tenfold, every day. “You’re really special.”

He leans over their sleeping daughter to press a loving kiss to Poppy’s lips, careful not to disturb the little angel between them, and Poppy kisses him straight back, fervent but fleeting.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” she mutters into his mouth, careful not to invest too much of herself into another moment they’ll swiftly get interrupted from. 

“You gonna show me in the morning?” He mumbles back, their lips still touching, noses pressed together, his hand still cradling her face. She nods, and he feels her cheeks round into his palm. “Gonna give me that hatty you promised?”

“Gonna give you whatever you want.”

“Another baby, Frau?”

She scoffs, swallowing down the fizzing feeling at the back of her throat the nickname. 

“Ask me again after your next hat-trick.” 

[hueseok]

might drop this fic next week! i’m like 75% done which is surprising for me who hasn’t been writing new fics for bts in a long time 😫 I AM PUMPED AND SCARED BUT YEAH THIS IS A LITTLE SNEAK PEEK I GUESS????

UPDATE: already uploaded the fic here !

[crystalflygeo]

The right moment ft Zhongli + fem!reader (modern!AU)

cw/tags: Discussions about first time/loss of virginity. Mentions oral/fingering/handjobs. A bit of pain. This is mostly just comfort tbh.

notes: REMEMBER EVERYONE!! It's okay to change your mind, it's okay to take your time and it's okay to say NO when it comes to sex, for any reason at any time, all of that is valid, and if your partner doesn't respect that or otherwise makes you feel bad for it drop them. (Ty @ainescribe and @silentmoths for beta'ing hehe. Also Happy year of the dragon btw!)

 You were trembling in his arms. Zhongli embraced you, holding your body against his chest, peppering kisses along your neck and shoulders making you shiver on top of the sheets.

This was it, this was the moment.

You two had fumbled around enough, getting used to his touch, his kisses, his love. And a little burning flame had been born from that along with the flutter in your lovestruck heart. Zhongli was perfect: gentle, patient, smart, kind, handsome…

And you love him.

And you want him.

Which is why one day you gathered up courage, you picked a day where you were not at risk (according to your calendar at least?) made sure you had some ‘protection’ stashed away at your bedside table and said…

“Li, I’m ready.”

“Hm?” He turned to you from his spot on the couch and blinked.

You laced your hands nervously. “I… want to have sex with you. I’m ready.” You blurted out, blushing.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, though he didn’t immediately say anything. “Are you sure, dear? What brought this on so suddenly?” He asked after a few moments.

“Quite sure.” You nodded, a little more confident, armed with your courage, your little preparations, and of course… excitement. “I just… think it’s time. I want to.”

It was… a little difficult not to be on edge as the moment approached.

Your first time. You’d gladly give it to Zhongli.

It’s not like you were completely new to sex, per se. Truth be told Zhongli had already been your ‘first’ on quite a few things. Your sexual experiences had gone from a bit of heavy petting over the clothes during make out sessions to him eating you out until you’re a whimpering mess or you giving him a few rare handjobs. You just had never… gone all the way.

Technically still a virgin.

But that was changing tonight. You were determined.

Zhongli was soft and reverent, an absolute gentleman as he lowered you on the bed, effortlessly sensual as his hands roamed your body like many other times before. Treating you with utmost gentleness, as if you were a bunny ready to sprint away at the first wrong move. He teased your chest and thighs, nipped softly at your skin and you answered with passionate kisses and heated touches, pulling him closer, letting out pleased hums. He made you come on those skilled fingers and tongue and your body melted, relaxing for him.

And now’s the time…

“You are so beautiful… I love you.” He murmurs the words, warm against your collarbone and you sigh, still panting a bit and recovering from your orgasm.

“Love you too, Li…”

You cup his face and pull him up to kiss his lips again, his strong arms leaning on either side of you. Like this, he’s hovering over you, his larger frame caging you radiating warmth and lust.

You feel his cock press against your hip and almost jolt. You don’t know why but suddenly you refuse to stare at it since, very soon, it was going to be inside you. It was a weird rush of worry, nervousness and giddy arousal.

You know for a fact he’s… big. You remember well the feeling of him on your hand, large and thick, and suddenly you begin to doubt whether or not you would be able to get that thing inside of you.

But you are determined.

He puts on a condom and squeezes some lube into his hand, spreading it evenly on his hard erection, your breath hitches.

He parts your legs and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if he could sense it too. Your face is flushed, your thoughts and senses are a flurry of emotions.

“Are you ready? Relax…” He caresses your thigh.

You feel the tip of his cock poking at your entrance as he slowly guides himself and suddenly there is this weird uncomfortable pressure as he pushes inside. You gasp.

“Ah-!” You yelp in pain and whimper. It was… so big.

Zhongli groans. “Darling, relax… you’re so tight.” His brow furrows slightly in concentration as your pussy clamps down on him.

You whine and bite your lip, hips jolting. He presses a bit deeper and you feel… weirdly stretched out, like you’re going to tear. It hurts. You try to endure it, it’s supposed to hurt, right? It’ll get better. But it continues to hurt. You don’t like it. You panic. “W-wait- wait wait- stop!” You cry out.

Zhongli immediately pulls out and your legs clamp shut, as if shielding you, that weird sensation is still there, you feel… raw, tender.

Your eyes water.

“Dear, are you ok? Did I hurt you?” Zhongli asks, cupping your face, golden eyes searching for your own, assessing your expression.

You avert your gaze, rolling over onto your side. “I’m sorry…” You mumble.

He still tries to face you, worried, so worried, your Zhongli. “Whatever for…?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, bite your lip, a few tears fall onto the bed. Gods you feel so ridiculous and childish and stupid and- “I’m sorry… I was so sure, I thought- I… I don’t think I’m ready. I don’t want to… do this anymore- not now. I’m sorry.” You sob.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for. If anything, I am the one who’s sorry for hurting you, please forgive me, this is… not the experience I wanted you to have.” Zhongli sighs, displeased at seeing you like this.

You finally look up at him, puffy eyes peeking over your shoulder. “It’s not your fault, it’s me… I have this whole… idea, all these expectations. I wanted this to be perfect and I ruined it.”

He rubs slow circles at your back, soothing. “My dear, I don’t think intimacy is something that should be ruled by a standard in any capacity, nor should it be measured and compared, just as experiences and feelings aren’t. These things just flow naturally.”

“You’re not… upset?”

His expression turns serious. “Of course not. On the contrary, I am glad you voiced out your feelings and I’ll respect your boundaries.” He leans down and brushes some hair from your face before depositing a kiss on your cheek. “I want you to feel good, your comfort is of utmost importance. There’s no need to feel pressured.”

You sigh deeply, groan into the bedsheets and then sit up again, pouting at him. “Still, we got all… worked up for nothing. I-I mean I can still…” You gesture vaguely at his lap. “If you want?” You squeak.

Zhongli chuckles and tries to pass it off as a cough. Your face heats up. “No need to concern yourself with that, the arousal is ebbing away, it’ll go down on its own.”

“Oh.”

There is silence for a few moments.

“Do you want-”

“Would you like to-”

“Ah, go ahead.” You shake your head. He smiles.

“I was going to propose a bath.”

You hum. “That sounds lovely. And then maybe… some cuddling on the couch while we watch tv?”

“I would like nothing more.”

He kisses your forehead and heads to the bathroom and as you gingerly stand up, look around and think on how things turned out you think it’s fine.

The right moment will come. You already have the right person by your side.

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

[elllisaaa]

ELI'S WIPS

WON THE GAME - JAKE S. -> continuation of lost the game

-> new bf!jake x fem!reader, college au

SUMMARY : your relationship with jake is still fairly new, and some adjustments need to be made : the way too many guys still try to flirt with you when you go to parties together, or the way jake hasn't tried to initiate anything more than a few kisses since your first time. you might need to start a new game to discover the truth.

WAR OF HEARTS - H. HYUNJIN

-> duke!hyunjin x duchess!reader ft. bff!felix, bridgerton au

SUMMARY : you thought that exchanging letters with your best friend in secret would be smart, but the day someone else starts to answer you, you rethink your life choices. and with your mind already occupied with the bals your mother drags you to, and the way she tries to get you with hyunjin - the duke you can't stand - everything feels way more complicated than it should have been.

NOT SO DUMB - C. BEOMGYU -> continuation of are you dumb, dumb, dumb ?

-> academic rival!beomgyu x fem!reader, college au

SUMMARY : after your "encounter" with beomgyu in the library, you make it your life mission to avoid him. but you cannot run away from your problems for too long, and when beomgyu calls you late at night, wasted, you can't leave him to die in front of a bar. however, you did not expect the way it would change your perception of him.

TOUGH LOVE - L. HEESEUNG

-> bff's brother!heeseung x fem!reader, smau

SUMMARY : you and your brother jay had always been very close to each other, and thus, you knew his best friend heeseung very well too. when you left for college, you didn't keep contact with him, and it made it the perfect opportunity to push away the little crush you always had on him. though, heeseung being the first person you stumble on just after coming back to your hometown for a while after your graduation, it feels like a sign. good or bad, you're yet to find out.

[lemonadehtwooh]

If I have to see One More fucking post that makes Alhaitham a "daddy dom" and Kaveh into a "soft uwu sub" I'm going to fucking kill someone

[kuroo-hitsuji]

Hi I'm too shy to properly hijack posts especially on ones where no one else is blorbo posting but, in regards to my last reblog:

LiSteN

[choccy-milky]

Hello! I'm not sure if you remember me but I DM'ed you one time and ask for some advice when it comes to drawing.. XD I just wanted to post this to show you how much I have improved, as well as a gift to say thank you for giving me the inspiration to practice drawing again!! I know I still have a lot to learn, but I will do my best to keep on practicing and maybe someday I can draw my MC along with yours :D

AW THIS IS SO CUTEE THANK YOU!!😭🥹🥹im so happy i could help you even a little bit with any advice, and also that i could inspire you to keep drawing!! your art is already super adorable so ik youll just keep getting better and better, and im hononured to see clora in your style...TYSM AGAIN!!🥹💖💖🙏

[lucysgraybird]

modern!billy with a farmers daughter!reader but not in the cute silly way?

youve grown up on a farm, ik billy is western but im actually thinking something more midwest; iowa/missouri/kansas

for the express purpose of the vibes of a once-great steel or railroad town, now resigned to notice by road trippers and academics researching the fall of industrial america

with this you've been kind of isolated; you had friends in high school but they've all either run as far as they could from their childhoods after graduation or languished in the remorse of not being able to escape

you. you didn't really want to escape; you're happy with your quiet ghostly life of taking care of your animals and avoiding talking politics with your parents

you grew up religious in a way that taught a god who was fear, you have made peace with a god who is your friend. knelt by your bed he has heard your deepest secrets told as girlish, gossipy whispers; your most outlandish, complicated questions asked like you are up too late at a sleepover

you are quiet for the most part, happy to twist your thoughts around into your head until they either make a pretty shape or break in two, and when you're not working the farm, you're wandering aimlessly through creeks and cemeteries and abandoned buildings

billy is, like everyone not born in a place like this, just stopping through - you meet him through your wanderlust, traipsing down a dead and dying main street as he pulls his equally moribund truck up to the curb, asking you for directions to the nearest mechanic

mechanic is the only one for miles and thus extortionate, but your father is handy and ready to help a stranger, so you tell billy that if his truck can make it a few miles up the road, he'll have a fixed engine for a reasonable price

he, of course, accepts and leans over to push open the door to give you a ride. you get to talking, learn that he was born in new york and has been living in new mexico, he's just travelling for a new job atm. he learns that you have lived here your whole life and have no real desire to move, have never had a reason to have that desire, and he smiles and tells you that he respects comfort in consistency, that he wishes he had a place he felt that settled

when you get back to your house your father helps billy fix his truck and your mother has you take iced tea out to the men, which you also drink a glass of while sitting on the cluttered porch and watching billy bent over the open hood

he's pretty, sure, but you cannot decide whether he is worth loving. if he is as transient as everything else that blows through this town like tumbleweeds, if - and a big if - you fell in love, would it flit away just as quickly as businesses seem to be closing down?

you pray those questions that night, as cricket song and sticky, heavy heat presses through your open window and gets circulated by a white box fan that stays on more for the comforting noise than any kind of cooling

god doesn't respond in words, because that's not how god works, but the next morning when you're in the grocery store squeezing plums to find one that is a little bit further from overripe than the others, billy finds you and tells you that he'll be staying in the motel in town for a few weeks (you make a face, he laughs) because his job has been delayed and maybe if you'd like to go out with him sometime, you could go to the one nice chain restaurant in town and if you decide you trust him (and his truck, which is still...questionably functional, even after repairs) enough, maybe you could drive out a little ways, just towards some of the corn fields? he would show you the stars?

and oh, you realize, this is god's answer and love and guiding hand. maybe it is time to move on.