#i have to get this off of my chest every now and then

[leahwllmsn]

wait for me to come home

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 14.1k

You and Alexia have been best friends your whole lives. You’re adamant that moving away from Barcelona won’t change a thing between you. Alexia fears otherwise.

or classic best friends to lovers :)

“Can’t believe you’re really leaving.” It was midnight. You were sitting on your usual spot at the beach with Alexia, your head on her shoulder, both of you staring out at the sea. Despite the tightness in her chest, Alexia felt at ease with you next to her.

“I can’t believe it either,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

Alexia took a deep breath. You were only going away for a year, you said. It did nothing to calm the nerves she felt all over. One year, but that would be the longest you've been away from each other. Alexia still didn’t know how to feel, she didn’t know what to feel. She figured it still hadn’t sunk in, that you were leaving. Leaving her.

In the morning when Alexia would drop you off at the airport and you’d wave goodbye, that was probably when she’d feel everything. That was probably when the feeling of emptiness would set.

“I’ll call you everyday,” you said, hugging Alexia’s left arm tightly. “It will be like I’m still in Barcelona with you.”

Alexia chuckled, “You don’t have to call me everyday, cariño.”

You turned your head towards your best friend. “Are you saying you don’t want me to call everyday?”

“Don’t twist my words!” Alexia laughed. “It’s just that I don’t want you to feel pressured to have to call me everyday. You’re a busy woman. I’m the one who waits for you whenever you have night shifts and I watch enough of your Meredith Grey shows to know how busy things at the hospital can be.”

You snickered at her mention of Grey’s Anatomy. Alexia would always complain about how unrealistic the show was whenever you put it on, yet she still stayed by your side and watched the damn thing. You placed your head back on her shoulder and sighed. “I don’t care if I’m busy, I’ll always make time for you.”

Alexia gulped. It was the way you said it, your voice small, yet your tone firm, as if a world where you didn’t have time for her was just impossible. “I love you, you know.”

Alexia furrowed her brows when you didn’t answer straight away like you always did. She was about to open her mouth to say something, when you pulled away and stood up, stretching your hand out for her to take.

“Do you want to head back?” Alexia asked.

“No,” you cleared your throat. “Let’s just walk around. The sand is making me itchy.”

“It’s because you’re wearing shorts,” Alexia took your hand and stood up. “I told you you can sit on my lap, you didn’t listen.”

You dusted off the sand from the back of your legs. “Didn’t want to.”

“Why? It’s comfy.”

“How would you know? You’ve never sat on your own lap before,” you said, your tone teasing.

“Idiota.” 

You kept walking along the beach, swinging your arms back and forth. It was quiet, but nice. Just the two of you, enjoying each other’s presence. Alexia felt her heart twinge when she realized that she didn’t know when she’d have another moment like this with you.

“Y/n,” Alexia spoke up after a few moments.

You hummed in reply.

This felt really nice, the way your hands were intertwined… Your shoulders bumping every now and then… Everything felt so right. Alexia took a deep breath and tried her best to not let herself get too emotional. She didn’t want to cry just yet, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop if she did.

“Ale, what were you going to say?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Alexia immediately shook her head, reminding herself not to let those words slip. She looked down and focused on the way her feet were kicking the sand with every step she took forward. “Nothing.”

You brought Alexia’s hand up to your lips and kissed the back of it. It was something you always did, but it still made Alexia’s heart drop every time. 

Maybe it was because the gesture had always made Alexia fall for you even more, or maybe it was because Alexia knew the platonic way it meant to you when Alexia wanted more than that.

“I know you, Ale,” you stopped walking and turned towards her. “You’re thinking about something.”

“Hm? What makes you think so?”

You poked Alexia’s forehead softly. “You have that crinkle between your brows. And you’ve been biting your lip for the past few minutes.”

Alexia hated the fact that you knew her so well, because it meant that she could never hide anything from you. The only thing Alexia successfully kept hidden were her feelings for you. Apart from that, you knew her better than anyone, and she was the same to you. 

Having known each other for more than two decades was a factor, but Alexia felt like it was simply because you were soulmates.

Alexia realized that no matter how hard she tried to move on from you, you would always be the one for her. Even though you didn’t feel the same way, she knew it would never change how she felt about you. She made her peace with it.

“It’s nothing,” Alexia said once more. “I swear.” You seemed to take the hint and didn’t pry further.

You tugged her hand and continued on walking, Alexia turning her head to the side every now and then, observing you. It was dark, the street lights were dim, and the moonlight wasn’t too bright, yet Alexia can still mention every little detail of your face—she had memorized them all after years of looking at you—from your warm eyes, to the delicate bridge of your nose, and the curve of your small lips. You were so beautiful that Alexia always felt breathless every time she looked at you, despite having known you since you were kids.

In that moment, with you humming along to a random song, your right hand interlocked with Alexia’s left one, there was nothing Alexia wanted more than to just confess her feelings for you. But she knew that you didn’t feel the same way, so telling you would just be pointless.

You turned your head to look at Alexia, catching her staring at you with that look on her face, the one look that you never could quite comprehend. When your lips formed a soft smile, Alexia couldn’t help but instantly reciprocate. Your smile was beautiful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, your tone bashful.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m so, so in love with you.”

“I’m so in love with you that my heart hurts every time you smile.”

Alexia shrugged. “Just thinking about how I will miss you a lot.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “So that was what you were thinking about earlier?”

“No. I was thinking about how I’m so hopelessly in love with you.”

“You got me,” Alexia replied instead.

You sighed, squeezing her hand. “I’ll miss you too. At least you have a million pictures of me in your phone that you can look at if you’re missing me.”

Alexia laughed at that. “You better have a million pictures of me too.”

“Of course, I do,” you snickered. “Even you in diapers, I have them all.”

“No, you don’t!”

“I do! Eli sent them to me.” You had asked Eli for pictures of baby Alexia and she didn’t disappoint. They were adorable, especially the one where Alexia was learning how to crawl, wearing nothing but her diapers.

“You better not show it to anyone.”

“I’ll post it on Instagram before I leave.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, “You’re such a brat sometimes.”

“I’m such a brat?” you let go of Alexia’s hand to pull out your phone from your pocket. You stopped walking so Alexia stopped too, arms crossed, waiting for whatever it was you were doing.

After a few seconds of you scrolling silently through your phone, you flashed your screen to Alexia, showing the picture you mentioned before. “Want to say that again, Putellas?”

“You’re so annoying,” Alexia groaned. “I swear to god if you post that—”

“Watch me.” Your face was smug.

“Y/n,” Alexia said slowly, her tone full of warning.

You grinned, tapping something on the screen before you started running. The sound of your laughter getting smaller and smaller as you ran further away.

“That little—” Alexia cursed under her breath before she started running after you. “Tonta! Come back!”

“No!” Your figure was getting tinier and tinier that Alexia couldn’t help but laugh along.

Eventually, Alexia was able to catch up with you once you stopped running. Your hands were on your hips, trying to catch your breath.

“Why are you making me exercise at one in the morning?” Alexia asked, exhaling loudly.

You shrugged in reply, still out of breath. Alexia had always been the more athletic one out of the two of you. “Just wanted to run.”

“I’m so tired,” Alexia groaned. “Training was tough today.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew she was just being dramatic. “That was nothing. You need to exercise more, Ale.”

“The nerve!” Alexia barked out a laugh. “Who’s the athlete here?”

“Not you if that run tires you out.”

Alexia smiled fondly at you. You get on her nerves a lot. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “Now what did you do? Did you post that on Instagram? Because I’ll kill you, idiota.”

“Oh no, I’m sooo scared,” you mockingly said, a pout on your lips. “Oh nooo.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes at you before she stepped forward and tickled your stomach.

“What are you—Alexia! Ale-Alexia stop it! Stop it right now!”

“Not until you delete that picture!” Alexia kept on tickling you. “Delete it!”

You were both laughing and Alexia didn’t show any signs of stopping until you tripped. You would’ve fallen to the ground if it weren’t for Alexia’s quick reflexes, her arms immediately encircling around your waist.

You were staring at each other, your breath heavy from all the laughter that had long died out. Alexia felt dizzy. Your lips were so close to hers, Alexia could just lean forward and all her questions about how your lips taste would be answered. Alexia saw you blinking back a couple of times, she even swore she saw your eyes dart to her lips. 

The street lights were illuminating your features perfectly and Alexia could see your lips twitching slightly—as if you wanted to close the distance between you too.

Suddenly your phone rang, breaking you two apart. You cleared your throat and answered your phone. 

Alexia let out the deep breath she was holding, rubbing the back of her neck. She had a feeling that she would kiss you if the phone rang a second too late, which would be a disaster. She was thankful to whoever called, because she would never forgive herself if she ruined your friendship just because of her stupid feelings.

“Sorry,” you said. “That was Leila, just asking what time I’d be at the airport tomorrow.”

“Right.” There it was again, the unsettling feeling in her stomach every time Leila was mentioned. Alexia swallowed hard, trying her best not to show her jealousy. She was the one who introduced you to Leila when you joined a night out with the Barcelona girls. Alexia didn’t know that you two would hit it off. She didn’t know that Leila would move to Manchester and shockingly, you got offered a job at one of the best hospitals in Manchester.

It felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke.

Alexia had to keep reminding herself that you weren’t hers, that you had every right to be with whoever you wanted. Alexia had no right to be jealous.

“That’s very cool, by the way,” Alexia said, putting her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “How you two are somehow going to the same country, same city.”

“Yeah, Codi said it was fate or something.” 

Fate? Me tripping over your leg at the playground when we were five was fate. Me immediately crying and you wiping my tears away until my mom came was fate. That was meant to happen because it made my mom invite you and your mom over for dinner, and it made us become best friends ever since. That was fate. Leila going to the same city as you was merely a coincidence. 

“Sure,” Alexia said, swallowing the bitterness in her mouth. “If that’s what you think.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. Ask me again in a year or so and I’ll tell you if Leila and I are fated or not.”

Alexia didn’t answer, instead she just kept on staring at you, taking in the sight of you standing in front of her for the last time.

In the morning, you were leaving. You’d have a new life in Manchester, one that Alexia wouldn’t be a big part of, seeing how she was all the way in Barcelona. 

Alexia tried to bury deep, deep inside the pain that kept on reappearing every now and then, but it was getting increasingly difficult with the way you looked back at her—your eyes full of tenderness, as if you felt the same way Alexia did, as if it killed you to not be able to say exactly what you wanted to say. 

But Alexia shrugged it off. There was no time to think about these made-up scenarios in her head. You were leaving soon. 

Alexia stepped forward and hugged you as tight as she could, wanting to remember the way you felt in her embrace.

—

You kept your promise and called Alexia everyday. It lasted for two months before things became more hectic for the two of you and the daily calls stopped. In your defense, you really did try your best, but some days you had late night shifts and when you didn’t, you had date nights with Leila.

“Cariño! I haven’t heard your voice in two days! That is crazy. I was wondering if you were still alive.”

“Ha ha. So funny, Alexia.”

“Such a busy woman.”

Alexia was thriving even more if that was even possible, scoring more goals and assists, earning her more media duties and appearances. She was busy too.

You would catch her on your television sometimes, an interview or replays of her games. You were used to it, you knew Alexia before and after her rise to fame. But without the back and forth texts, without the calls and hearing her voice, without having her next to you, Alexia had never felt so out of reach.

“Hey, is it a bad time?”

“Hola, princessa. ‘m about to sleep. So tired. Call me tomorrow?”

“Okay, Ale. Sweet dreams.”

“Love you.”

Weeks with limited communication turned into months and the next thing you knew, you went from knowing everything about Alexia’s life, to finding out she had a girlfriend from your girlfriend.

Apparently Olga was a mutual friend. Leila had only good things to say about her.

You called Alexia that night, asking her about it. She didn’t have much to say, a tell-tale sign that she was uncomfortable, but why she was uncomfortable you couldn’t decipher it.

“Is she good to you at least?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she make you happy?”

“Sí.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

For the first time since you’ve known her, you felt like a stranger in Alexia’s life. You couldn’t tell exactly when things changed. It must’ve been the depleting texts sent each day, the less and less phone calls until it went down to none at all for a week or two, and when you two did have time for a call, it felt… awkward.

The first argument started when Alexia casually joked about how you were so busy and you didn’t have time for her anymore, how you have a more exciting life now in Manchester. She was laughing but you just got off a twelve hour shift at work and you were exhausted. 

“Like you’re not the same?” you fired back, feeling a headache coming through.

Instead of changing the subject like you hoped she would, Alexia rebutted your claim. “I do have time for you.”

You let out a laugh. “Between football and your new girlfriend? You don’t, Ale. Don’t act otherwise.”

“Wow. Okay.”

You seemed to instantly snap out of it at the tone of her voice. Alexia sounded hurt and for a second, you felt guilty for starting a fight. But what she said hurt you too, because even though she said it in a joking way, you knew she meant it.

“Sorry,” you sighed. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m not in the mood.”

“Right, yeah. Bye.”

The arguments seemed to snowball after that first one. Your calls were still rare, but when you or Alexia forced yourselves to call the other, it didn’t end well.

That should be the first warning sign for you—how you felt forced to call her when you used to want to hear her voice all the time.

“How was your day?”

“It was fine.” 

“Can you at least act like you’re excited to talk to me?”

“If we’re just going to fight, Ale, you shouldn’t have called.”

“Whatever. Good night.”

The next thing you knew, there wasn’t a call that went by without some small, unimportant argument.

It got worse when you told her you weren’t staying for only one year as originally planned. You liked it here in Manchester. You had a good job and you were surrounded by wonderful people.

Alexia ignored you for the whole day only to call you early in the morning, her voice raspier than usual. You knew that meant she spent the night crying.

“You don’t know when you’ll be back?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back in Barcelona, no.”

“How am I supposed to go for… what? Another year without you? Two years? More?”

“You’ve been doing just fine so far. I don’t see the problem, Ale.”

“I miss you every night that you're not here. I don’t think that's doing ‘fine’.”

“Oh c’mon. We haven't been the same.”

“Just because we haven’t been talking as much doesn’t mean that I love you less, but whatever.”

It got even worse when you were supposed to fly back to Spain for Alexia’s birthday, but you had to cancel at the last minute because you were stuck with an emergency case at the hospital.

In hindsight, it was a stupid reason, something you could totally resolve by having one of your co-workers take over for you. But your mind went into overdrive, you somehow convinced yourself that you couldn’t leave the country.

Maybe it was out of fear of seeing Alexia again, not wanting to see how the distance had changed your dynamics.

Alexia’s reaction when you told her you weren’t going to be there hurt more than you could admit. 

“You’d never miss my birthday and I’d never miss yours. That was a promise.”

“We were seven, Alexia.”

Alexia didn’t say anything else and you didn’t need to see her face to know how dejected she was. You ignored the pain in your chest, convincing yourself that you were doing the right thing. You didn’t need to fly for more than two hours for someone’s birthday.

The old you would’ve screamed at you if she knew what you were doing. Alexia wasn’t just someone. She was… she was your everything and more. 

When midnight rolled around and you would usually be next to Alexia, wishing her a happy birthday with a present in hand, and instead you were all the way in Manchester, you felt that maybe you were dumb to let the arguments get in your head.

You took a deep breath and texted her a happy birthday. You weren’t sure if she would pick up if you called. 

Alexia didn’t reply to your text until noon that day, saying how she was off to celebrate with her family as usual and she’d call you after dinner. She didn’t mention Olga, but you knew she was there from Alba.

You sat in your apartment alone in the dark, Leila was out with her friends. It was only then that it dawned on you how lonely you were. You couldn’t imagine how Alexia was feeling—that was, if she still cared about you.

You had been there for Alexia’s birthday ever since she turned six years old. You didn’t think that you’d ever miss one, ever. But here you were.

It was weird to see Olga in place of you, seated between Eli and Alba as she grinned at Alexia blowing the candles out.

That used to be you.

Instead, you were in a different country, wishing you were at a place where someone else had claimed your spot. 

When it was way after dinner time and you still hadn’t heard from Alexia even though she said she’d call, you decided to send her a text. Something short and straight to the point: can I call you?

Alexia didn’t reply and you fell asleep with a feeling so hollow in your chest, you wondered if love was supposed to hurt this bad.

stop making promises you can’t keep, alexia

The loud ringing of your phone woke you up. You didn’t think that you’d see an incoming call from Alexia this early.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hello to you too, Ale.” Your tone was curt. In your defense, you had just woken up. 

“You’re picking a fight,” Alexia stated. “I don’t know why, but it’s not nice.”

“Picking a fight?” You scoffed in disbelief. “Is this about my text? I was simply telling you to stop making promises, because you can’t keep them. You told me you’d call me, you didn’t.”

You said it so accusatory that Alexia felt a sudden rush of anger. “You’re being ridiculous. I fell asleep. I’m calling you now, aren’t I?”

“I’m being ridiculous? Is it not me who had to wait for hours for your call?”

Alexia let out a bitter laugh. “Saying all that like I don’t usually have to wait hours and hours for you too?”

“Well, you’re the one with the empty promises. You promised me that things won’t be different between us, well. Look at us now.”

“That’s not entirely my fault and you know it. If we’re playing that game, you said you’d call me everyday, you said you’d always have time for me. Look at us now, cariño!”

Alexia never raised her voice at you. That was how you knew things were truly different now. “I was busy. Some days I have twelve hour shifts, Alexia,” you replied simply, not wanting to raise your voice too.

“Busy,” Alexia scoffed at you. “But you still have time to watch Leila’s games every week.”

You immediately felt defensive at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “Why are you dragging Leila into this?”

Alexia was about to give you a piece of her mind, about how having a quick call with her wasn’t as time consuming as watching a 90-minute football game, but you still had more to say.

“Leila has nothing to do with us turning into�� into this mess!” So much for not wanting to raise your voice at her. “Besides, you have Olga too. You spent all your time with her and forgot the plans we made first.” You fired back at her, a part of you hated that Olga took your place, that Olga was able to be in Barcelona next to Alexia, doing all the things you used to do.

People would think you were jealous, but you weren’t. You just didn’t like her. You didn’t like that she was taking up too much of Alexia’s time. That wasn’t jealousy.

“What plans? If I forgot something, then tell me. I’m not a fucking mind reader, Y/n.”

“What was I supposed to do? Ask you to pick between Olga and I? Why would I do that when I know you’ll pick her!”

(You might sound a little crazy. But you wouldn't admit that to anyone. In your defense, it was hard being demoted to second choice.)

“What’s your problem with Olga?” Alexia accused you, she knew you all too well.

“I have no problem with her. What's your problem with Leila?”

“Don’t change the subject. I was once your best friend, I know you more than anyone, and I know how you usually are when you don’t like someone.”

The use of past tense shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. You knew things had changed between you. “Glad to know you don’t think we’re best friends anymore.”

Alexia let out an exhale. “You haven’t been acting like you’re my best friend for sometime. Don’t act all innocent.”

“Even though we haven’t been talking much, you’re still my person. But since I don’t seem to matter to you anymore, I’ll just…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid for all of this.

Alexia could feel that familiar tug in her heart, the feeling of wanting to make everything in the world right for you.

But for once, she casted it aside. The anger she had at you overpowering everything. “I don’t think I matter to you anymore either, so I guess we’re even.”

There was a pause before you utter your next words. “You matter the most to me.” 

Alexia could only scoff. “Sure, you have done such a great job of showing that I matter to you—you couldn’t even spare five minutes of your precious 24 hours to talk to me!”

Deep down, you knew that. You knew that you were guilt-tripping Alexia when you had your faults too.

None of you said anything else. For once, in the two decades that you’ve known each other, you both didn’t know what to say—had nothing else to say.

When all Alexia could come up with was “I don’t know who you are anymore. You’re really hurting me this time,” you knew you had to put an end to all of this.

“I think we should just… take a break from all of this.”

Alexia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. You didn’t think you had it in you to say those words either. Even though the conversations between you two had diminished, saying that you wanted to stop talking to each other felt so… final. 

“What?”

“I’m tired, Ale.”

“You don’t think I’m tired too?” you could hear the urgency in her voice. “What does that even mean? ‘Take a break from all this’? You want a break from me, you mean? What ever happened to ‘you’re my person, Alexia?’” Alexia mimicked your voice. She was getting angrier by the second, you could tell. 

“You told me I’m hurting you! I’m tired of hurting you. I didn’t even realize it, Ale. I never wanted that. All we’ve been doing is fighting each other. I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t see a solution to this, I really don’t.”

Neither of you knew where it went wrong. One day you two were fine—you two loved each other more than anything in this world—the next thing you knew, you couldn’t hold up a conversation where it didn’t end with exasperated voices and tired sighs.

It was the distance, you assumed.

You and Alexia were attached at the hip. The only time you two went separate ways was when she had away games and international duties.

It was a two and a half hour flight between Barcelona and Manchester, but neither of you had made the trip to see one another. Alexia seemed even more far away as the days went by.

She had Olga to turn to now, you could feel her not needing you anymore. 

It was the distance that took Alexia away from you, you would convince yourself that. It wasn’t the nameless feeling in your chest that felt a lot like yearning, jealousy, and regret all at once.

You ended the call, not knowing whether you’d ever talk to Alexia again.

—

Losing someone that had always been a constant in your life was devastating.

It was miserable. You were the most miserable you had ever been.

Leila kept on asking you what was wrong, your friends in Barcelona updating her that Alexia was in the same state as you. Not that you cared.

You didn’t know how to live without Alexia in your life, but you’d manage. You’d learn. This wasn’t the end of the world.

You steered clear of your social media, not wanting to see any posts of her from your mutual friends or from the Barcelona account.

Leila and a couple of your friends eventually stopped asking you about what went wrong with Alexia, to which you were glad, but the emptiness you felt when no one brought Alexia up to you was starting to make you uneasy.

Alexia used to be in all your conversations, she was a huge part of your life. Now it felt like she was never a part of it.

A few months passed by, your birthday rolled around and you assumed—you wished—that Alexia would break this silence between you two. It was your birthday after all.

But you should’ve known how stubborn she was. 

When you stayed up until the clock strikes midnight and there was no text from Alexia, when she used to pride herself on being the first person to wish you a happy birthday, you knew you had lost her for good. 

You spent your birthday with pain in your chest like no other. You just wanted Alexia back. 

Your friends in Manchester knew something was up with you, Leila figured that it was mostly because of Alexia. None of them could understand why it was upsetting you so much.

That night, you sat on your balcony and looked through the folder of pictures on your phone that contained decades worth of memories of Alexia. With each scroll, you could feel more tears running down your cheeks.

There was a photo of you when you were ten, Alexia next to you laughing at how ugly your haircut was.

Another photo was of you at prom, Alexia as your plus one. Despite the countless promposals you received, you’d rather have Alexia as your date than the stinky boys at your school.

When Alexia got called up for the national team for the first time, you were there with Eli to watch her score her first international goal. The photo you had was of her carrying you on her back. It was after the game ended and Alexia had too much energy that she had to carry you around the field.

The next photo was of Alexia sleeping at the library, you were studying for your exams when you were in University and Alexia had the day off. To her, nothing was better than spending it with you, even if it meant that she had to sit there and watch you study boring stuff. Alexia always had faith that you were going to be the best doctor in Barcelona.

You had a photo of when you flew across continents to watch her win the World Cup, grinning next to Alexia as she kissed your cheek, trophy in hand.

A photo of when she tore her ACL and you were there at her bedside as she was preparing to go into surgery. Alexia didn’t let go of your hand until she was in front of the operating room.

A photo of you and Alexia in a locker room, both in Barcelona jerseys. It was the day before your exam, but it was also the Champions League final. You brought your textbook and Alba kept on laughing when you studied during half-time.

Most photos were of Alexia doing mundane things. They meant the most to you because of how carefree she looked in all of them.

Alexia making stupid faces at you as you grocery shopped together.

Alexia laughing next to you in the driver seat as she drove you to work.

Alexia cooking dinner for the two of you, her eyebrows scrunching in concentration as she read the ingredients from her new cookbook.

Alexia sipping coffee in your favourite coffee shop in Barcelona. They served the best banana bread, you never wanted to share them with anyone, not even Alexia.

Alexia watching replays of her games on her iPad. She was laying down on your couch, your throw blanket draped over her feet.

Alexia smiling at you with that look.

As you reached the last picture you had on the album, a photo of Alexia taken by you the morning you left for Manchester—she was on the driver seat, a wistful smile on her face as she turned to look at you during a red light—you suddenly felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

You were in love with Alexia.

You were so desperately in love with Alexia, you had always been, ever since you let her become your first kiss.

You didn’t like any of Alexia’s relationships, because you were jealous. You thought none of her girlfriends could treat her well, no one lived up to your expectations. You felt like you were the only one who could understand her.

You hugged the blanket around yourself tighter, the gust of wind making your teeth chatter. You wanted Alexia there next to you, she would know that you were never a fan of the cold, always making sure that you were bundled up and warm.

You had a million thoughts running through your mind, mostly about how you missed all the signs of being in love with your best friend. Although deep down, you’ve always known that what you felt for Alexia was too intense to be strictly platonic. 

But when someone kissed you, having it meant the world to you, only for her to wish it never happened, you felt like it was justifiable that you decided to lock your feelings away.

Now that you’ve uncovered them, you didn’t know how to go on and pretend that you were fine with having Alexia out of your life.

—

Barcelona was playing against Manchester City at the Etihad. This wasn’t something you could get out of, you needed to be there to support Leila.

You had some friends traveling to Manchester to watch the match, you decided to sit with them instead of your usual spot at the Friends and Family section. You wanted—no, you needed someone to distract you from the person you hadn’t seen in almost two years.

You ignored your friends’ teasing at your Man City jersey instead of the Blaugrana colour (with Alexia’s name and number) you usually wore. They didn’t mention Alexia to you, having figured out the fallout, but a part of you wanted them to. You wanted them to tell you about Alexia and how she’d been doing.

Your resolve almost crumbled, Alexia’s name on the tip of your tongue. If it wasn’t for the players entering the field and the loud cheers from the audience, you would’ve asked them about Alexia.

Alexia, who was no longer blonde apparently. You saw her run to the field, her brown hair in a neat ponytail. Even from afar you could still see her smile. You hated that you still felt like jumping off a cliff at the sight.

You hated that your gaze was always drawn to her instead of your girlfriend.

Later when the game ended and Barcelona eventually won, you went to meet Leila at the barrier, whispering how great she played despite it all. 

You almost accepted her invite to a night out with some of the Barcelona girls. The temptation to see Alexia again was so strong, but you didn’t think you were ready yet. 

You saw her anyway, in your dreams that night. Maybe it was that deep yearning that caused you to text her as soon as you woke up.

good game yesterday. always proud of you

—

Your reconciliation didn’t happen all at once. 

You didn’t magically go back to being the same as you were before (there was some apprehension from both parties), but it was close enough. 

It was scarily easy to integrate Alexia back into your life even though you hadn’t talked to each other for so long.

First it was the likes on Instagram posts, or a reply to your Instagram story of gloomy Manchester sky, or a comment on Alexia’s post of her match day outfit.

Then the texts started. A simple text from Alexia telling you that she was through to the finals of the Euros. Or a text from you containing a picture of your cat, Mr. Oreo. They were evenly spaced out throughout your week, it wasn’t too often that it felt like you two were rushing back into being friends, but it wasn’t too scarce to leave you wanting more.

It was just perfect.

The striking difference now was that you were letting yourself fall for her. Every joke she made, every selfie she sent you, you took your time to admire her and let yourself fall even more.

Now that you were very much aware of your feelings, it didn’t feel right to continue what you had with Leila.

You loved her, but you must not have loved her enough because you were still able to think of another woman.

You ended it with Leila on a Tuesday. She didn't have a game until Sunday and you figured that was enough time for her to not be distracted. Surprisingly, Leila took it well, as if she knew this was coming all along.

And it felt like the universe was laughing at you, because after you broke up with Leila, you received a text from Alexia.

I’m getting married

You felt your heart drop. You had to put your phone back in your pocket because your hands were trembling badly.

You were suddenly desperate to do something, anything, before it was too late.

Even though a part of you felt like it was already too late.

—

Alexia arrived at the airport three hours early. She spent those three hours walking from one end to the other, flowers in hand. Her hands shaking and her mind racing with the thoughts of finally seeing you again.

She passed by the exact spot you said your goodbyes two years ago, both of you holding back your tears as you exchanged promises that things would be okay. The moment you walked away and went out of sight, Alexia finally let her tears fall, feeling that a part of her left alongside you.

In the middle of pacing around the airport, Olga called, and Alexia felt guilty because her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you. She instantly buried the feeling of discomfort the moment Olga talked about their wedding.

Alexia was getting married to Olga. Her mind shouldn’t picture you the moment weddings are mentioned. She closed her eyes and bid Olga goodbye, not remembering what her fiancé called her about. 

You were her best friend. Nothing more. Why was it that even after years apart, her heart still ached and yearned for you?

Hours later, when you texted her to let her know that you’ve landed, Alexia made her way to the gate. She stood there, flowers tightly in hand, tapping her foot anxiously. 

You two had been slowly rebuilding your friendship. You texted each other, but never a phone call, and Alexia was nervous to hear your voice again after going such a long time without it.

Alexia was the first to spot you. You were dragging your suitcase, looking from side to side, as if urgently searching for something. And the moment your eyes found hers, your entire body lit up—the whole airport could tell that you finally found what you were looking for.

Everything drowned out and to Alexia nothing else seemed to matter anymore, her only focus was on you. On how your eyes shone with happiness and how your lips slowly curved into the smile that Alexia had missed so much. When you were finally in front of her, something clicked within her, and every hurt, every anger, every sadness she had felt because of you disappeared and she was left with the feeling of nothing but love and fondness for the girl standing in front of her. 

You were here and no matter how hard Alexia tried, she couldn’t feel half of what she felt with you with anyone else.

“Alexia, hi.”

Alexia didn’t say anything back, instead she immediately embraced you, hugging you with everything she had. She leaned down and buried her face in the crook of your neck, closing her eyes and squeezing you even more—just savoring the moment of finally having you there again. 

Alexia thought back to the last time she hugged you, trying to remember every single detail—from the way your arms were wrapped around Alexia’s neck, to the way your breath tickled her ear—trying to decide whether anything had changed. 

And when you kissed the side of Alexia’s head, laughing into her ears because she wouldn’t let go, Alexia decided that no matter how many years had passed and no matter how many arguments you two got into, your hug still felt the same.

—

Alexia,

The moment that has always replayed in my head for years is the night of your 18th birthday. We went to the beach after dinner and crashed someone’s party, and we both got really drunk. It was fun but the thing that made that night so memorable was because it was the first time someone kissed me and that person was you. 

The moment it happened, it felt like everything fell into place, you know? I understood why even my five year old self hated seeing you cry and just wanted to protect you from everything so you’ll never cry again. I understood why out of all the people in the room, my eyes always search for yours. I love you, Alexia. It’s always been you.

I was the happiest I’ve ever been that night. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world for being able to be in your arms.  

But when you woke up the next day saying that you wished that night never happened, it felt like the missing puzzle piece in my heart that you completed the night before disappeared again. 

Ever since then, I tried so hard to fill this gaping hole in my heart. I made it my life’s mission to go out there and meet the most perfect girl in the world just to try and replicate what I felt for you. But every time I’m with someone, every time I’m face to face with some perfect girl, your face appears and I’m reminded that they’re not you.

I love you, Alexia. I love you more with all the ups and downs we’ve had. I love every part of you and I love you with every beat of my heart.

I think I’ve always known that I was in love with you. I was just never brave enough to label it as that. So I didn’t. It wasn’t until recently that I realized: I couldn’t just sit here and watch you marry someone else.

You could call it selfish, but I wasn’t going to risk the slightest possibility of you feeling the same way that I do.

I know Olga loves you, but I also know that she’ll never love you as much as I do. 

To quote your favourite poet:

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you directly without problems or pride:

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,

so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,    

so close that your eyes close with my dreams”

If you think that this is all wrong, please just ignore it, and I promise I’ll never talk about this again. But if you somehow feel the same, meet me at our usual spot at the beach tonight, 10 p.m.

Yours always, 

y/n

—

It wasn’t like you didn’t know this would happen. This was why you never wanted to risk your friendship because of some silly feelings. You knew Alexia wouldn’t feel the same, your confession would go to waste, and you would be sitting on the beach, alone at night, waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

You thought of calling Alexia, to ask her what she thought of your letter. But you decided against it, this was humiliating enough.

Maybe Alexia was embarrassed? Maybe she felt bad for you. Maybe she didn’t know how to talk to you now, knowing that you had all these feelings for her. Or maybe Alexia just didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You let out a big sigh and buried your face in your hands. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All those years of friendship… that was all it was: friendship. You should’ve known.

You checked your phone again. Nothing. No texts or calls.

You let out a laugh. Alexia wasn’t stuck in traffic nor was she late, she was simply not coming.

Feeling your eyes start to well up with tears, you took a deep breath before standing up. You didn’t plan on going back to your parents’ house just yet, stupidly enough a part of you still had hope that Alexia was going to show up. You needed to walk around and distract yourself, sitting in the same spot that contained so many memories of her wasn’t helping.

You took another glance at your phone, and when there was still nothing, you wished your heart wasn’t so weak when it came to Alexia.

—

Alexia never believed in fate or anything.

To be fair, she was five years old and watching movies where the princess always ended up with the prince and lived happily ever after seemed too good to be true.

That was until she met you.

You, who had your little legs outstretched on the grass as you snack on your cookies. You, who didn’t hesitate to wipe away Alexia’s tears when she tripped on your legs. You, who kept on apologizing even though it wasn’t your fault that Alexia wasn’t looking at where she was going, but you were trying to make her feel better.

You had been a constant in her life ever since then, with your wise wisdoms and never-ending ability to make Alexia laugh.

Alexia then understood that fate and destiny really did exist, because it was fate that brought Alexia to the playground at that exact moment—at that exact second—so she could meet you.

When Alexia lost you, she didn’t want to believe in fate anymore, because why was the universe so cruel that it left her on the floor of her apartment, crying and begging for you to come back.

You disappeared from Alexia’s life and Alexia saw firsthand how the world became gloomier, how her days seemed to drag on longer without your presence. 

Just when Alexia completely lost all hope, the universe had other plans, and it was destiny that she left her phone in her hotel room that morning, because if she didn’t, her phone would be in her pocket as she was thrown to the swimming pool because Vicky and Esmee decided that playing a prank on their captain was a brilliant idea. Her phone would be ruined and she wouldn’t be greeted with a text message from you.

A simple text telling Alexia that you were proud of her, but it left her breathless because she hadn’t talked to you in a year. You two had no contact for a year, yet you were still proud of her. Like always.

Fate, destiny, the universe, and all of that had brought you to her, took you away, then brought you back.

It was also fate that made Alexia reach down into her purse and open the envelope you’d given her before parting ways earlier—something tugging in her heart, screaming at her to read the letter you wrote to her, even though she told herself that she would do it after you’ve left the city.

And sometimes, the universe had a sense of humour, because at that moment, as Alexia finished reading the last sentence of your handwriting, her fiancé appeared in the doorway of their shared bedroom.

“Alexia?”

“I’m sorry.”

—

The only thought Alexia had as she drove over the speed limit was to hope that you were still there, waiting for her. Just like what you had been doing all of these years.

All of those wasted years where you two could be together if it weren’t for the doubts that forbade you from truly loving each other the way you were meant to.

“You’ve always loved her more than anything, Alexia. Even when she’s a thousand miles away, even when you two weren’t on speaking terms… She’s still the one you love the most. I could never compete with her.”

From this whole thing, Alexia was just sorry that she had to drag someone else into her mess. She would never forgive herself for saying “yes” to someone, knowing that her heart wasn’t fully in it.

“Olga, I never meant to make you feel like you were at constant competition with her. I really do love you.”

“But not as much as you love her.”

“I never planned on staying in love with her forever, I really did try to love someone else—with you. And I did. All these years together, I meant everything I said and everything I did.”

“I’ve always known that she would always come first to you, yet I still convinced myself that that would change one day. I know it made me a shitty person, but I was happy when you fought with her, because I thought that was finally it, you know? Finally you’d move on from her. But not even the fall out made you love her any less.”

Alexia would take whatever life will throw at her for hurting someone so deeply like she did to Olga.

But the only thing she could do right now was to find you and hoped that you were the happy ending fate had in store for her. The happy ending she’d dreamt of all this time.

—

When Alexia couldn’t find you at the beach, she figured she was too late. She tried calling and texting, but you weren’t replying to any of it.

So she went to your parents’ place, taking a slight detour to your favourite florist, picking up the bouquet they had ready, not wanting to waste another second away from you. Alexia figured you must’ve left thinking that she was rejecting you. Even if Alexia wasn’t in love with you anymore, she wouldn't have just let you sit there all alone, fearing the worst. She needed you to know that.

Your childhood home was dark and quiet. All the lights were off and Alexia remembered that your parents were in Mollet del Vallés, visiting your grandparents.

You weren’t here but Alexia wasn’t going anywhere else. She would just be there and wait for you—she had waited decades for you, a few hours would mean nothing. She sat down on the pavement, not caring how dirty her jeans were going to be, and pulled out her phone from her pocket. She called the only person she could think of.

It took a few more tries for Mapi to pick up, and once the call got connected, Alexia spoke into the phone, “I have a problem.” 

Mapi’s voice was groggy. “It’s midnight, you dumbass. Can you call me later?”

“No, this is urgent.”

Alexia can feel Mapi roll her eyes on the other end of the line, “When Ingrid kills me for being too noisy and waking her up, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Well, in that case, I hope she does wake up then.”

“Tonta.”

“María,” Alexia let out a tired exhale. “Do you know where Y/n is?”

Mapi groaned in reply. “Estúpida. I was asleep, how should I know?”

Alexia pressed her hand over her eyes and groaned, “I think I screwed up.”

Just when Alexia was about to elaborate further, even though she knew Mapi was half asleep, someone called out her name. Someone whose voice sounded exactly like you.

“Ale?” 

Alexia quickly opened her eyes. It really was you.

“Y/n.”

And there you were, standing in front of Alexia, head cocked to the side as if trying to figure out why Alexia was sitting there in front of your house at midnight.

Alexia quickly put her phone back to her ear, “Uhm, I’ll call you back—Tomorrow. I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight, María.” As soon as she ended the call, she quickly stood up.

Your arms were crossed over your chest, you were making yourself smaller, you looked so unsure of yourself that Alexia wanted nothing but to hug you and tell you that she loved you more than she’d ever loved anyone.

But all you had was apprehension written all over your face. Alexia understood. You must’ve thought that by her not showing up, Alexia didn’t feel the way you did. “What are you doing here?”

Alexia gulped. Now that you were in front of her, Alexia didn’t know what to say. “Did we really kiss on my 18th birthday?” Alexia blurted out.

“What?” You were confused and still reeling from the embarrassment of the whole thing. You couldn’t process what she said.

“I don’t remember it,” Alexia continued. “I swear. I swear on Messi.”

“What?” Your tone was full of surprise. “You don’t remember?” 

“No,” Alexia sighed, looking at you wistfully. “I would never stop talking about it if I did.”

You went silent for a few seconds, your face full of confusion. Alexia let you take it all in. “You don’t remember,” you stated in a questioning tone. “But you said you wished it never happened.”

“I couldn’t have said that, because I don’t remember—”

“Oh my god, you don’t remember?” It was like you finally realized what that meant. “Oh my god,” you groaned, placing your hands over your face. “I spent years thinking—I convinced myself that I wasn’t in love with you because you rejected me—”

“I didn’t!” Alexia interjected. “I would never– I was so hopelessly in love with you.”

You looked at her and your face turned paler if that was even possible. Your mouth agape, as if you wanted to say something but you couldn’t. How could you? When your best friend was telling you that she—

“Wait,” you realized something. “Did you say ‘was’? As in past tense?” You felt the hope that grew plummet to the bottom of the stomach. You knew it was too good to be true. “Is that why you didn’t meet me earlier?”

“No… No, Y/n, I read your letter too late. I didn’t know you were waiting for me. I would’ve dropped everything in a heartbeat to get to you.”

“Oh.” 

Suddenly you were laughing. Your laughter echoing throughout the empty neighbourhood. Alexia stared at you, unsure of what this meant but she couldn’t help the growing happiness in her heart with every laugh that escaped your lips. “I should’ve just texted you, right? I wanted to be romantic with the letter.”

Alexia shot you a comforting smile. At least fate brought you both here, to this moment.

After your laughter died down, you took a hesitant step forward. “But… do you really feel… the way that I do?”

Alexia sighed, being the one to close the gap between you and took your hands in hers. “If my years and years of pining weren't obvious, I feel the same. I’m in love with you. I still am. I never stopped, if we’re being honest. I broke things off with Olga, it wasn’t right to stay with her if my heart belonged to someone else. She deserves way better than some girl who was too much of a coward to confess that she’s in love with her best friend and ended up stringing her along for years, knowing that she would never love her the same.”

“So you…” you were at loss for words.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Alexia continued. “This whole thing is a mess. I need to cancel my wedding preparations, I have to talk to a lot of people, but the only thing I know right now is that… I can’t let you go again. You’re my soulmate, I’m sure of it. I’ve been sure of it ever since we were kids. I won’t love someone as much and as deeply as I love you. So… yeah.”

You didn’t reply to Alexia’s statement, instead you placed one hand on the back of Alexia’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Once your lips met, Alexia’s mind went to two things: how she never wanted to kiss anyone else in her life and how exactly did she forget your soft lips when they tasted like heaven? 

Alexia’s hands wandered to rest on your neck, caressing the smooth skin that felt electric under her touch. Alexia’s mind was full with thoughts of you. Your lips on hers. Your hands around her waist. Your perfume engulfing her. Your nose brushing against hers. Your laugh vibrating against her lips.

Your lips curved upwards into a grin and Alexia could taste the happiness on your lips. She leaned forward once more for a peck on your smile and when you scrunch your nose in response, Alexia pressed another kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“That was… everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” Alexia hoped that you couldn’t hear how erratic her heart was beating. 

“We can take things slow,” you whispered against her lips.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you, I don’t want to take it slow,” Alexia whispered back. “But… I agree. We don’t have to rush this. We have the rest of our lives to make up for lost time.”

Suddenly your eyes drifted to the flowers on the pavement, raising your eyes at that. “Is that supposed to be for me?”

Alexia’s eyes widened when she realized the discarded flowers, quickly taking them and shoving them to you. “Uhm. Yes. These… these are for you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, taking the flowers from her but your gaze never leaving her face. “Thank you.”

She pouted when she realized you hadn’t even glanced at it. “You didn’t even look at it!”

You grinned at her, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around her waist. Your face back in its favourite spot against her neck. “I bet they’re beautiful, just like you.”

“Okay, flirt.” 

Alexia quickly stepped back when she noticed that the flowers were squeezed in between you two. “You’re ruining my flowers.”

“I’m not,” you scoffed. You looked down and scrunched your nose at the sight. At least they still had the beautiful pink colour intact, your favourite. “Okay, kind of. But that was your fault.”

Alexia took your hand that wasn’t holding the flower and brought it to her lips for a kiss. “How was it my fault?” 

“I couldn’t resist hugging you.”

Alexia laughed and wrapped her arms around your shoulder. Swaying you side to side and sighing in content. Everything felt good. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

“Now you’re ruining the flowers even more!” your voice muffled with the way your face was squeezed into Alexia’s neck.

“I’ll get you new ones, mi amor. In fact, I’ll get you the whole shop.”

You laughed into her neck, placing a gentle kiss there. “I’m holding you on to that.”

Alexia hummed. “I love you, cariño. I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” you replied. 

“Say it back,” Alexia prodded, placing her cheek on the top of your head.

“Huh?”

“I… love… you.” Alexia said slowly.

Alexia felt your giggles tickle her neck.

“Princessa, say it back.”

“You already know the answer anyway.”

“Mi vida.”

“Alexia. I love you too.”

Alexia did know the answer—she had heard you say it a million times over and over. Despite that, Alexia still wanted to hear it a million times more.

—

Alexia had been to Manchester before but it was still hard to keep up with how busy the airport was. She couldn’t spot you—not at first. All she could see was people rushing to get somewhere despite it being the early hours of the morning. 

Alexia dragged her luggage to a secluded corner and pulled out her phone to give you a call. She put her phone to her ear and kept on looking around while waiting for you to pick up.

It was on the second ring when Alexia spotted you. You were sandwiched between people and you looked so small that Alexia would’ve missed you if she didn’t see the giant flower bouquet you were holding. 

Once you answered the call, Alexia laughed into the speaker, feeling her heart grow ten times bigger with the amount of love she felt for you. Alexia still couldn’t believe she was finally here, just a few steps away from the person she had missed so much.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because,” Alexia sighed in content. How did she spend so long convincing herself that she would be fine settling for someone other than you? “That bouquet is way bigger than you.”

As soon as Alexia said that, she saw you move your head in all directions trying to locate her. “You’re here. Where are you?”

“I am here.” Alexia stated, enjoying how clueless you looked. 

“Alexia.” 

“You always complain about how tall I am, how can you not see me?” Alexia kept her eyes on you—from your furrowed eyebrows to the small pout on your lips, one hand holding your phone to your ear and the other holding the flowers. She laughed even more when you kept on whining and your pout kept getting bigger as each second passed.

“You are annoying,” you groaned. “Can you just tell me where you are? I’m hungry.”

“Not because you miss me?” Alexia teased. “You only want me because I spoil you with lots of food.”

“Yes, that’s true!” you laughed. “So hurry up and tell me where you are so we can get food, Alexia Putellas Segura.”

“Ooh she’s using my full name now.” 

“It’s because I’m getting impatient!”

Alexia laughed, finally dragging her luggage and walking towards your direction.

Once she was behind you, Alexia ended the call and tapped your shoulder, making you jump slightly. Alexia chuckled to herself at how ridiculous she was for finding everything you did adorable.

You immediately turned around and once recognition settled in, you squealed and jumped to hug her. “Alexia! You’re blonde again!”

“Mi amor! I missed you.” 

When you broke apart, Alexia’s eyes started to well with tears. You were finally in front of her, smiling at her with your big smile and sparkly eyes. Two months without having you near felt so long.

“Baby,” you cooed. “Why are you crying?” 

“Just emotional,” Alexia squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping. “I missed your stupid face.”

“No one will be able to guess that you're the crybaby in this relationship.”

Alexia scowled at you. She would never admit that she cried more than you. Besides, no one would be able to verify this fact because she never cried in front of anyone, except you. “I am not.”

“Sure. Can we get that breakfast now?”

Looking at you behind your big flower bouquet, Alexia felt breathless, only because she still couldn’t believe that you were hers. At the same time though, she felt like she was able to properly breathe again, because you were finally back in her arms.

—

“Hey, Ale?”

“Yeah?”

You sat on the passenger seat, absentmindedly playing with Alexia’s hand that wasn’t holding the steering wheel.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

Alexia gave you a side glance. “Are you questioning my driving abilities? When it was me who drove you around most of your life.”

“Maybe,” you kissed the back of Alexia’s hand. “You’ve never driven outside of Spain before. I’m kind of scared right now. For my life and for my brand new car.”

Alexia laughed, “Driving is the same everywhere, amor.”

“Fine,” you leaned over the console and pressed a kiss to Alexia’s cheek. “I trust you.”

Alexia scrunched her nose in response. “Stop kissing me and tell me where I should go next instead.”

“Just keep on going straight,” you responded. “Then turn left.”

“Now?”

“Are you seeing any left turns right now?”

“You just told me to turn left,” Alexia whined. “You’re such a bad navigator.”

“You should’ve let me drive.”

“You must be tired from work,” Alexia let go of her hand that was in your grip to caress your face. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You looked at Alexia, taking the her hand in yours again. “So thoughtful, always a gentlewoman. Thank you, Ale.”

“I am thoughtful huh.”

You poked your tongue out at her in response. “I should stop before your ego gets too big.”

Alexia grinned at you. “I think my ego has been big ever since I knew I was your first kiss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re my first kiss, Alexia Putellas Segura. Just like I am yours.”

“The one I don’t have a single memory of,” Alexia noted. “How could you let me forget what would be the most meaningful experience of my life?”

“It’s not my fault you’re a lightweight,” you pinched Alexia’s cheeks to which the blonde laughed in response. “But hey, at least I tried to remind you of that night, didn’t I? About a thousand times these past few days if I remember correctly.”

Alexia hummed in thought, puckering her lips. “I think I need the reminder once again.” 

You giggled and kissed the palm of Alexia’s hand instead. “Later at home, okay? I can’t have you crashing my car.”

“I’d like that.” Alexia took a quick glance at you and smiled—one that reached her eyes, one that showed you just how happy she was. 

But you were suddenly thinking of home and how you used it to describe your Manchester apartment, even though you never thought of it that way. That was, until Alexia came to visit, leaving her things scattered around like she always did in your old place in Barcelona.

You yearned for days like this, with Alexia driving you back home, eating takeout on the couch as you watched a football match you couldn’t care less about. You let Alexia talk your ear off, giving her commentary on the game, you nodding along like you were totally invested in it too.

Home. 

Manchester had never felt like home. It was an apartment with all of your things, where you slept and showered and ate, but you never considered it to be your home.

Alexia visited one day and changed the meaning of the place entirely.

You lived here for years without Alexia, but you couldn’t imagine it without her anymore. 

You looked at your best friend as she sang along to a Spanish song, she was so off-key. A grin instantly made its way to your lips.

Home was wherever Alexia was. 

—

It was a no-brainer, really.

There was no reason to stay in Manchester when your heart lived in Barcelona.

It had been on your mind since you had to leave Alexia again as you boarded the plane back to Manchester a few months ago. It was the only thing you could think of as you waved goodbye to Alexia as she went back to Barcelona, her black cap and sunglasses covering her face, but you could tell there were tears running down her cheeks.

You knew she was scared that history would repeat itself and you two would argue again. But you also knew that it was different this time. There were no uncertain feelings in your chest, no other girl next to Alexia making you feel replaced. You were certain of your love for Alexia.

But it was time to come home. You knew that the moment Alexia kissed you for the second time.

You hadn’t told Alexia, but you were planning on coming back in a couple of months. You wanted it to be a surprise.

But the night before Alexia left, as you savoured the feeling of her pressed up against you, you came to the conclusion that you need to come back to Barcelona sooner than planned.

Having Alexia next to you felt so good. You missed it a lot. You knew you couldn’t stand even another month being away from her, so you changed your entire timeline and decided to move it up so you were coming back in two weeks.

You had a lot on your to-do list. It was a hassle to move away from the place you’ve lived in for years. It was even harder when you wanted to do it within a few weeks.

Alexia thought it was starting again—the space between you.

You didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

“Ale, you're just being a distraction right now.”

Which was true—you had less time to reply to texts and calls in between trying to get rid of your furniture and trying to cut your lease short—but Alexia didn't know that so it wasn’t the right word to use.

Out of context, it sounded harsh, and you figured you could’ve said it better. 

Alexia ended the call abruptly and ignored all your texts for the rest of the day. 

—

Turns out, Alexia decided to ignore you for a whole week. It was understandable, you royally screwed up, but the only thing that kept you from flying to Barcelona as soon as you figured out she was ignoring you was the thought that you were coming back soon. For good.

You left Manchester and years worth of memories behind on a Monday. Your parents welcomed you back with open arms and you spent the night eating your mother’s home cooked meal.

The next day, you knew Alexia had training until noon. So you went to a florist, bought the biggest bouquet of Alexia’s favourite flowers, and you met up with a Barcelona staff member with clear instructions that he was to give it to Alexia. And to make sure that she actually read the note attached to it.

Alexia, my love

Meet me at our spot at 4pm

You’re going to be done by that time, so you better show up

Yours,

y/n

—

You sat at your usual spot by the beach, the same spot where you got your heart broken a few months ago when Alexia didn’t show up. This time, instead of waiting for Alexia with dread and a heavy heart, all you felt was excitement at getting to see her again. 

This time, you knew that Alexia loved you too and you didn’t have to worry about her not showing up.

Alexia loved you too and you weren't going to let her go. It was that thought that kept on repeating in your head, the one that propelled you to leave Manchester behind and come back to Barcelona. As much as you loved it over there, you knew it would never beat the feeling of having Alexia next to you. 

You couldn’t wait to be with Alexia. Really be with her, not through a phone screen where her sleeping face would disappear once her phone ran out of battery.

“Amor?”

You craned your head as soon as you heard that voice. Alexia was still as beautiful as ever, despite only wearing some sweatpants and a hoodie that she stole from you when you were still in high school. 

“Hi.” Alexia put her hand up in a little wave. You smiled because Alexia looked so nervous, it was adorable. 

You stood up and walked towards her slowly, your face still amused at the way she was biting her lips—a nervous habit of hers. When you were inches apart you spoke, “Hi back. Why do you look so nervous?”

Alexia’s eyes drifted anywhere but you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You totally are,” you said, trying to catch her eyes. “Can I hug you?”

Alexia finally returned your stare and once your eyes met, Alexia’s entire posture softened and she leaned forward to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you,” Alexia exhaled deeply. “It’s only been a few weeks but I missed you.”

You wrapped your arms around her neck, whispering that you missed her too. You breathed in her familiar scent and sighed. You felt at home.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Alexia said once you broke apart.

You shrugged. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, I am very surprised.” Alexia took your hands in hers. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Can I kiss you now? Or are you still too nervous to do that?” you asked, your tone teasing. “ I can’t have you passing out on me.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips. “I’m not nervous.”

“So can I kiss you or not?” you asked once more, a grin on her face.

“Of course you can.”

And that was all you needed before you leaned forward and captured her lips with yours.

You kissed your girlfriend gently, you kissed her slowly while trying to convey just how much you missed her—how lonely your nights were without her to cuddle you to sleep and how cold your mornings were without her warm smile.

And when Alexia traced your bottom lip with her tongue, you couldn’t comprehend how fast your heart was beating. After countless kisses, you still felt the same way you did when Alexia first kissed you at eighteen—all fluttery as a thousand butterflies rummaged around your stomach.

Alexia’s lips on yours felt tingly, and Alexia’s hands that were caressing your waist felt like they had belonged there all along.

When you broke apart, Alexia’s hands stayed where they were, her forehead resting against yours while you both tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” Alexia whispered. “I know I say that a lot, but I mean it every time.”

You hummed, your lips curling up into a smile. “I love you too.”

“I’m sorry, cariño, for ignoring you. I was just… sad, I guess.”

“No, I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have called you a distraction.”

“It’s just–” Alexia sighed, she was really beating herself up over this. “You’re supposed to tell me if you’re unhappy. I’m your girlfriend.”

You immediately shake your head. “I’m not unhappy—I could never be unhappy with you.”

“Then?”

You took a deep breath before continuing, “You were a distraction, but only because—Ale?”

Alexia blinked back, as if she didn’t quite understand what you said. She took a step away from your touch and turned her back towards you.

You were confused for a moment before you remembered how much of an overthinker she was.

“Ale. Baby,” you gently placed your hands on her shoulders and turned her around. Your heart broke at the sight of Alexia’s furrowed brows and the slight tremble in her bottom lips.

“Are you—Did you come back to break up with me?”

“Of course not,” you laughed. “Alexia—”

“Don’t—” Alexia tried to turn back around and leave, but you quickly grabbed her arms to prevent her from leaving.

“Alexia,” your hand travelled down to her hands, intertwining them with yours. “Look at me.”

You could see tears starting to well in her and you sighed at how much she resembled a kicked puppy. “Baby,” you cooed. “It’s nothing bad, c’mon, please don’t cry.”

“It’s not?” Alexia whispered out.

“No,” you flashed her a comforting smile. “I would never break up with you, you should know that by now.”

“Oh,” Alexia looked down, sniffling. “Then why? I’m a distraction to you?”

You lifted Alexia’s chin up with your finger. “Moving across countries isn’t an easy thing to do, you know. I have to talk to the hospital about my contract, I have to talk to my agent about my lease, I have to sell all my furniture, I have to meet with my friends to say goodbye—”

“What—”

“That’s why you were kind of distracting me, because I need to get a lot of things done if I want to come home to my girlfriend as soon as possible.”

When realization dawned on Alexia, her eyes widened and you laughed at how comical she looked. Alexia placed her hand on your mouth, muffling your laughs. “Stop laughing at me. You’re coming back?”

You took Alexia’s hand away from your mouth and grinned at her. Alexia’s eyebrows were raised, her face expectant as she waited for an answer.

You smiled fondly at her expressions before you answered her question with a kiss.

One second into the kiss, a giggle escaped your mouth, causing Alexia to break you apart, narrowing her eyes at your interruption. “Sorry, you were just too adorable.”

“Glad to know you think me crying is adorable.”

You placed a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t like seeing you cry but I wasn’t even breaking up with you, you big baby.”

“You’re so mean,” Alexia pouted. “But you’re really coming back? For good?”

“I am. I can’t be apart from you anymore. I love you and I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every night.”

“Cheesy.”

You scrunched up your nose. “Shut up. I’m trying to be cute.”

“So… will you be asking me to move in with you then?”

“Well…” you gave a sheepish grin. “I was hoping you would be the one to ask me that, since I don’t exactly have a place here anymore. Unless you want to move in with my parents, that’s okay too.”

Alexia laughed and pecked your lips. You felt warm all over. “Let’s go look for a new place. My place is too small for all our kids anyway.”

“Kids?” you looked at Alexia with wide eyes. “Alexia. Did you skip the entire wedding?”

Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m talking about Nala. And Mr. Oreo, your stinky cat. Add Vicky, Jana, Esmee to the list too.”

You slapped Alexia’s arm in response. “You scared me there for a second. We need to get married first, you know. No skipping a chapter.”

Alexia laughed, kissing the top of your head. You looked at her and the sight of your girlfriend with a big smile and eyes that displayed so much happiness gave you the sudden urge to kiss her again. So you did.

With the feeling of Alexia smiling against your lips, you knew that no matter where life takes you, you’d always come home to her.

—

Y/n,

I still remember the moment you left to go to Manchester. I remember watching you leave and I remember feeling so helpless because I knew that things would change. I saw you walk away and I have never wanted to scream your name so badly—just so you would look at me one last time. But I didn’t. 

I didn’t, because you were off to do amazing things and I couldn’t keep you here as much as I wanted to. And because a part of me felt relieved that we’d be spending less time together because it would give me the time I needed to move on from you.

It worked for a while. My heart didn’t break into pieces every time I saw you and Leila on social media, and my heart didn’t feel like it’s being squeezed every time you talked about her.

My daydreams about you stopped, I didn’t hear your laugh in the back of my head at random times of the day anymore. I thought that was it. I was moving on, and I started to swallow the bitter truth that we weren’t meant to be together.

But then one night you called me. It was in the middle of the night and you couldn’t stop laughing because of a joke you just thought of. You asked if I was asleep, and I knew you’d tell me to go back to sleep if I said yes, so I lied. Only because I missed your voice and because hearing your laugh again after so long made my heart feel whole again when I didn’t even realize it had a missing piece.

I realized that, no matter how hard I try to convince myself, I would never love anyone as much as I love you.

I started to spend each night cursing at the stars, being angry and asking why the universe gave you to me, but at the same time, never letting me completely have you. 

I settled for someone else because I thought that you’d never look at me the way I looked at you. I loved someone else and their name tasted just fine on my lips but I kept on wishing that it was your name that I was whispering into the dark nights instead. And I had to come to terms that I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life with you in the way that I’d hoped, so I said ‘yes’ to someone else.

But things happened, and I found out that you had been looking at me the same way all along—hidden glances, longing gazes, the desperate yearning to know how it feels like to love each other in ways no one but us can understand.

You’re my best friend, Y/n. You’re the bestest friend I’ve ever had and now, instead of cursing at the stars, I thank them each night because the universe gave you to me and now I have the chance to be able to love and admire every part of you.

Now your name is the only one I’d whisper into the nights—the nights where it’s just us two and your face that’s illuminated by the moonlight is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Now you’re the person I said ‘yes’ to because you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.

It’s been a journey, hasn’t it? I never would have thought that we’d be here, and that in a few hours I’d get to call you my wife. 

I love you, mi amor. I have loved you since I was five and didn’t know anything about the world. I have loved you when we were apart, when nothing else was left to say between us, when the mornings without your texts turned my world darker.

And I have loved you when we’re together, when I look to the side and you’re always there next to me, when your hands feel like they’re my long-lost limb—your hands holding mine, your hands around my waist, your hands tangled through my hair, your hands around my neck, your hands holding me at night when it’s quiet except for the sound of your heart beating in sync with mine.

I have loved you for so long that it’s now a part of me and I know that I would never go a day without loving you.

And despite knowing you for most of my life, I still get nervous around you. So I’m writing this letter in case I couldn’t blurt out my vows because of how you’d be looking at me—as if I’m the only star in your sky. I hope that by reading this, you know just how much I love you and how I don’t ever plan to stop.

You make me the happiest. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that you’re the happiest too.

I’ll see you in a few hours. Can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle :)

Yours forever and ever and ever, 

Alexia

----

a/n: thank you for reading. this is my longest fic yet, please let me know your thoughts!<3

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ THE FIRST FALL OF SNOW

Pro Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight in the public’s eye, is finally on his way home. The moment he clocked out, he was Bakugou Katsuki.

The apartment door swung open, and Bakugou trudged inside, every step weighed down by the exhaustion of the day. His back ached from the relentless action-packed hours at work (somehow, during the holidays, villains were at their peak action), and the chill of winter clung to his skin, even through the layers of his winter gear earlier. He’d been looking forward to collapsing onto the bed and shutting the world out for the rest of the night.

He let out a grunt of frustration, yanking his scarf off as he called out, “I’m home.”

Bakugou was greeted by your voice. Too chipper, as if you had something planned.

“Perfect timing! Go change into something warm; we’re going out!” you said, a spark of excitement lighting up your tired features. You had on your favorite scarf and coat, your cheeks flushed from the cold air that must’ve blown in while you’d been waiting for him.

Katsuki frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re kidding, right? It’s freezing, and I just got home.”

“I’m not kidding.” Your smile widened, undeterred by your husband’s gruffness. “You need to relax, and I need to check out the sale on the market. We’re going downtown, just for a little bit. Please?”

“No,” he scoffs.

“Come on, Katsuki,” you pleaded. “You’re always working, and I’ve been stuck inside all day. Just a quick trip downtown to relax. Please?” You pouted slightly as you repeated the request, though your tone remained playful, knowing it would chip away at his defenses.

“Can’t we relax here? You know, like normal people?”

“Normal is boring. We can relax after we go out and see the town. Please? I’ll make dinner when we get back!”

Dammit, you knew how to pull at his strings.

Katsuki groaned, tugging at the tight fabric of his jacket. He hated the cold, hated the thought of walking around aimlessly in weather that bit at his skin. But as he looked at you—your hopeful expression, the way your eyes sparkled with the promise of something simple yet special—he sighed, already knowing he couldn’t refuse.

Knowing he’d already lost, he crossed his arms. He’d always had a soft spot for you (you must’ve put a curse on him once he gave you his valid “I do” at the altar, he thinks), and no amount of exhaustion could override the tug in his chest when you looked at him like that.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’re carrying the hot chocolate if we get any.”

Your grin was instant, and you tugged at his arm. “Deal. Now hurry up and get dressed into something warmer before I change my mind.”

---

The streets of Musutafu were already in the holiday spirit, and it was only the first of December. The glow of streetlights reflected off frosted windows, and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts wafted through the air—it was a scent to appreciate. Katsuki’s hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his scarf pulled high over his face, as he grumbled every so often about the cold or his aching shoulders.

“This better be worth it,” he grumbled, kicking a stray piece of ice off the sidewalk.

“It is worth it,” you countered, practically skipping beside him. “You’ve been so stressed lately, and this is exactly what you need—some fresh air and a change of scenery.”

“I’d rather have fresh air from our bedroom.”

You shot him a playful glare. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, and you’re a pain,” he shot back, though his lips twitched upward just slightly.

It’s also a good thing that not many were wanting his autograph or a picture because Bakugou was not in the mood to entertain anyone aside from you.

You led him to a small square near the center of town, where festive decorations were strung across trees and lampposts. Children bundled up in cute, thick winter clothes ran around as their fits of giggles filled the air, and vendors sold warm snacks and drinks from cozy stalls. You tugged him toward one of the benches, your excitement bubbling over.

“Look at this place! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Bakugou looked around, taking in the bustling scene. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that it wasn’t half bad—but he’d never say it out loud. Instead, he just shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible to impress.”

“Not true,” he said, smirking slightly. “You impressed me.”

“Ok, sap,” you snorted, though you were quick to hide how it made you feel all giddy. “And did you know that—”

And Bakugou could only listen to you with his brows slightly knitted to an unamused expression, though he didn’t want to burst your bubble even if he was exhausted.

Without even noticing at first, the first snowflake fell, soft and delicate, landing on your scarf. You stopped mid-sentence, glancing up as more began to drift down, tiny, icy kisses from the sky. Bakugou paused too, his eyes narrowing as a flake landed on his nose.

“It’s snowing,” you murmured, a note of wonder in your voice.

Katsuki squinted up at the sky, unimpressed. “Great. Now it’s even colder.”

You ignored him, stepping slightly into the open square, your head tilted back as you let the snowflakes land on your hair and cheeks. Your face lit up with childlike wonder, and for a moment, Bakugou was suddenly reminded how lucky he was to be married to you.

Bakugou watched you silently, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. You looked radiant, the soft glow of the snow reflecting off your skin, your cheeks flushed from the cold. Your lips parted slightly as you caught a snowflake on your tongue, and you laughed softly at the sensation.

His chest tightened, his earlier complaints fading into nothing. The aches, the cold, his uncomfortable winter clothes—none of it mattered. All he saw was you.

You turned back to him, your smile warm and teasing. “You’re just going to stand there and sulk, or are you going to enjoy this with me?”

He huffed, walking toward you. “I’m not sulking,” he muttered.

“Sure, sure.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “Come on, Katsuki. Isn’t this beautiful?”

He looked at you, at the way your eyes shimmered with glee, the way you smiled despite the cold nipping at their noses. “Yeah,” he said softly, surprising even himself. He’s most likely referring to you rather than the scene before him, more likely. “It is.”

“Wait, are you actually admitting you like something?”

“So? I like you, and we’re married. It’s not that shameful to admit the obvious, dummy.” He grumbled, though his hand tightened around yours.

“Not that! I meant it’s snowing; isn’t it beautiful?”

“Could care less about shaved ice falling from the sky.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and Bakugou did the same, which made you laugh.

You two stood there for a while, watching the snow fall around you, the rest of the world fading into the background. For once, Bakugou wasn’t thinking about work, stress, or anything else. All he could focus on was the woman beside him and how, for the first time in a long time, everything felt just right.

And even though Bakugou still hated the cold, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, winter wasn’t so bad after all—because it meant moments like this. Moments with you.

It must’ve been Christmas magic to see you during the first fall of snow, taking his breath away with how you looked, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything this damned world had to offer.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[covenofagatha]

Hii can you please write athlete-student fem reader x Professor Agatha, where she is her favorite student and they have a close connection despite Agatha's cold demeanor. So one day y/n comes limping to Agatha's class bcuz she got injured during the practice and her coach kept pushing her, without letting to rest, so the injury got worse and now y/n can barely step on her leg. Agatha takes notice of that and asks y/n to stay after the lecture, where Agatha discovers the truth about abusive coach. So Agatha helps Y/N to her car and takes her home, where Agatha takes care of her and they finally kiss or maybe even smut if you are good with it please. Kinda like hurt/comfort with possesive Agatha

Thank you for all your amazing writing💜

As a former swimmer with a coach that was fired for emotional/verbal abuse I fucking loved this request so thank you and I hope you like!

Swimming into her arms

You hurt your leg during practice and your coach makes it worse, so Professor Agatha has to take care of you

Word count: 3400

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight possessiveness, oral sex, soft

“Coach, can I talk with you for a second before we get in?” You ask, stepping gingerly over to him. He barely even glances at you, just waves his hand to tell you to get on with it. “I just hurt my knee during weights and the trainer said that I shouldn’t kick that much until I can go see a doctor.” 

Now he looks at you, displeasure written all over his face. Your swim coach is not known for being nice and you inwardly wince to brace yourself. “What did you do?” 

“We were doing band jumps from the pullup bars and I landed weirdly and there was a pop from my knee. It hurts to walk and I’m really not sure I should swim.” 

He scoffs and straightens up against the fence where he was leaning. You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you were standing in more than just your swimsuit. You should’ve worn clothes to come talk to him, but deep down you knew how this was going to go. 

“We have a meet this weekend and you’re our best backstroker somehow, despite your awful underwater kicks. You’re swimming.” 

The dig about your underwaters doesn’t even phase you now, having heard it enough times already. But the thought of bending your knee like that makes you brave enough to protest. “Can I just pull for today? I’ll try to get to the doctor this afternoon.” 

You feel your stomach sink as he rolls his eyes. “I don’t need damaged goods on this team so if you’re not going to get in the pool and you’re going to be weak, then just get off the deck and come back next week. Don’t expect to be put in any more meets though.” 

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your jaw from dropping. You nod and turn around to hide the tears stinging in your eyes and put your cap on. You’re on a scholarship at the university for swimming, so if you quit or he lets you go, you’ll most likely have to drop out.

“That’s what I thought,” you hear your coach huff quietly behind you. “Let’s go. You’re five minutes late getting in.”

The moment you jump into the pool and push off the wall for warm up, you know you’ve made a mistake. Your leg is screaming. Every kick is pure agony and you try your absolute best to not move it more than you have to. But each flip turn makes you want to cry. You barely make it through the warm up and your heart drops when you see the main set that your coach wrote on the board. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if he changed it up and made it harder just to mess with you.

Your lanemate asks if you want to go first and all you can do is shake your head. If you speak, you’re afraid you’re going to fall apart. You refuse to take your goggles off because your eyes are red and teary. 

One round in, your coach stops you on the wall. “Are you even trying?” He demands. 

“My knee,” is all you can get out before your voice wavers. 

He squats down so he’s closer to you. “I’m 55 years old. My knees hurt every day and you don’t see me whining about it. Now either do the set right, or you’re off the relay.” 

This time, when you push off the wall, you kick with both legs. By the end of the 25, you’re already sobbing into the water, choking on gasps when you turn your head to breathe. You’ve never felt pain like this before in your life and you are convinced that something is really wrong. 

At one point, you think you almost black out. 

You fall behind in the set because you physically can’t kick fast enough to make the interval so your coach makes you stay behind late to finish it, despite you telling him that you have to get to class. 

When he finally lets you out of the pool, there’s twenty minutes until your class starts and you still have to shower, get dressed, and somehow walk across campus. 

Some of your professors would be chill if you walked in late. Hell, most of them were happy if 75% of the class actually showed up. 

But not Professor Agatha Harkness. She was feared by everyone on campus, even those who weren’t in her class, for her stony cold demeanor. There were rumors that she made students cry just by looking at them. 

Although, she wasn’t like that with you. While she was still tough, there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at you, a certain fondness in her smile. You weren’t sure what it was about you that made her like that, but you and Agatha had grown quite close over the past semester. You would go bother her during her office hours and she would patiently answer all your questions and help you with her assignments. You knew you could talk to her about anything, and you often did. Friend drama, other classes, swimming, you name it. The way she made you feel heard and seen, plus with how hot she was, had you falling for her. 

The only thing you hadn’t really opened up on was how mean your coach could be. 

But just because of your relationship with her didn’t mean she would allow you to be late to her class. 

For now though, your task was to get out of the pool without screaming. Your coach would throw a fit if you didn’t “get out like an athlete” by putting your knee in the gutter instead of your foot, but you weren’t sure you could do either. You maneuver yourself up using the handles on the starting blocks so you’re sitting and then push yourself up. You try to put weight on your hurt leg and you gasp loudly. 

That’s not going to happen. 

Your coach walks over to you and you think that he might offer some sort of help or an apology or anything, but all he says is, “See you tomorrow.” 

Your head falls back in frustration and you experiment with some different movements to see which is the best for your knee. You can slide it a little on the wet ground for now to get to the locker room, but when you go outside with shoes on, you’re going to have to figure out something new. 

You shower in record time while still getting all your tears out and throw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, putting moisturizer on your face while your hair is twisted up in your towel. The warm water did a little to help your leg so you’re able to put the tiniest bit of weight on it now. However, it doesn’t hide the evidence that you were clearly crying. 

Still, your class starts in five minutes. The building her lecture is in is four minutes away with a good leg. 

Hobbling while whimpering every step takes eight. 

You try to open the door as quietly as possible, and you succeed, but your bag swings and clangs onto the metal trash can that is right in the doorway. Because of course it is. 

Silence falls through the room as the sound echoes, and Agatha looks up from her place at the front of the room. You offer a shaky smile and limp down the aisle to your spot in the second row. Going down the slanted floor is a new type of pain that has you grabbing onto chairs. 

“Stay after class so I can hear your excuse about why you’re late,” Agatha says coldly once you’ve sat in your usual seat, sighing when the burn in your knee dies down to a dull ache. Your heart squeezes but you do see some concern in her eyes. You realize that her tough exterior just now was an act. You nod, not able to look at her for fear that she’ll see right through you, and you dig in your backpack for paper and a pen for notes. 

The hour lecture goes so slowly, your knee now starting to throb from sitting. You’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do to get it to stop hurting. 

Finally, Agatha releases everyone but you stay seated. While you’re in pain sitting, you know it’s much worse if you stand up. She doesn’t seem to mind, just comes to stand on the other side of her podium and lean against it. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before and you just start hysterically crying. She looks more taken-aback than you’ve ever seen her and walks over to crouch next to you and rub a hand comfortingly up and down your arm. “Sweetheart?” 

Your breath catches at the pet name and you hiccup. You swipe furiously at your eyes, embarrassed to show this much emotion in front of the older woman. When you open your mouth to start talking though, you can’t stop. “I hurt my leg in weights and I tried to tell my coach that the trainer said I shouldn’t swim and that it hurts but he made me get in anyways because we have a meet coming up and told me I wasn’t doing good enough and I had to stay late to finish the set and my knee hurts so fucking much I can barely walk.” You don’t even have it in you to apologize for the swearing and Agatha doesn’t care either. 

She cups your tear-stained cheek, thumbing at it, and you meet her eyes with your watery ones. You’re a little surprised to see pure anger in them.

“That is not okay,” she says seriously. “He should be fired for doing that. He deliberately put you in a situation where you’re only going to be more injured and now look at you. This is unbelievable. I’m going to talk to the athletic director, someone needs to know about this.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, Professor, you really don’t have to, it’s not–” 

“It is a big deal,” she cuts you off firmly. “There need to be consequences. He fucking hurt you and he’s going to pay!” Your heart skips a beat at how protective she’s being and she seems to realize what she said because she immediately changes gears. “Do you need help?” 

It’s the first time anyone has asked you that all day. Even the trainer or your weight’s coach didn’t offer. It almost makes you start crying again. 

“Yes, please,” you say and she holds out your hands, pulling you up out of the chair. You put your hurt leg on the floor and buckle into Agatha’s arms. “M’ so sorry, oh my god,” you stammer as she’s practically holding you now. 

She uses her strength to get you standing straight again, and without saying anything, slings your backpack over her shoulder and puts her other arm under yours so she can act as a crutch for you. 

“I’m sorry about your coach,” she finally says as she’s working on steering you out of the building. 

You wince going down the steps and shrug. “He’s not a bad coach. Like his sets are good and stuff and I’ve gotten faster for him. Just not a great…person. Where are we going?” You’ve finally realized that she’s not helping you back to the dorms. 

“My car,” she says matter-of-factly. Your heart skips a beat and you crane your head to look up at her. She has a variety of emotions struggling on her face and you’ve never felt so taken care of. 

“Why did you park so far away?” You groan and she chuckles. It feels like you’ve been limping for a mile. Luckily, there’s not too many other people outside right now to see Agatha helping you like this, but you do find it oddly touching that she would risk her heartless reputation for you. 

At last, you get to the lot where the professors park and she basically drops you into the passenger seat, sliding into the driver’s side once she puts your bag in the back. 

“Thank you for helping me,” you say quietly once she’s reversing out of her spot. She pauses for a second to look at you, a new expression on her face that you’ve never seen before. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

Once again, she goes in an unfamiliar direction. Maybe she’s taking you to a doctor? 

Nope. 

You’re still confused, even when Agatha turns into a quaint suburban neighborhood, but you think you figure it out when she stops in front of a house. 

You turn to gape at your professor. “Is this yours?” She gives you a look that says obviously and then gets out of the car quickly so she can come get you out. She doesn’t grab your bag from the back but you don’t need it. She helps you hobble inside and brings you over to the couch so you can lay down on it. You swing the bad leg up and then the good one and she hands you a pillow to put under the hurting knee. 

The elevation helps a little and while Agatha walks out of the living room, your eyes close, head resting on the back of the couch. It feels like you have been drained of all your energy from weights, practice, and then your knee. 

You think you might doze off just a bit because you startle when you hear Agatha entering. She’s carrying a bag of ice in one hand and a plate with a sandwich and raspberries in the other. You scooch into an upright position and graciously accept the food, instantly taking a huge bite. You moan at the taste and then notice that Agatha is standing next to you, bag of ice in hand, looking at your sweatpant-clad legs. 

Her eyes dart to yours and then back down. “Do you think you can take these off?” She asks, tapping your leg and your cheeks turn almost as red as hers. 

“Um, oh, sure,” you answer, mouth full of food. You set the plate down on the coffee table and raise your hips so you can get your pants off. You refuse to look at her as you basically undress in front of her. 

And then you begin to struggle. You can bend one leg just fine, but you don’t even want to risk moving your right knee in the slightest. The problem is, you’re nowhere near flexible enough to take your pants off while keeping one leg straight. 

Thankfully, Agatha completely understands without you having to ask, saving you from that embarrassment. She reaches across your body and gently slides the sweatpants off your bad leg. And then your entire bottom half is naked except for your underwear. 

You know why you’re blushing, but why is Agatha? 

She clears her throat and arranges the bag of ice on your knee, but it won’t stay because your leg is slanted up on the pillow. 

“Um, can you…” she trails off like she’s trying to figure out how to word it. You also understand what she needs, so you move your left leg so it hangs off the couch and she can sit in-between your legs and hold the ice to your knee. 

“Are you okay?” You ask after the two of you have been sitting in silence for a little bit. It’s comfortable, but you can still see the outline of grimace on Agatha’s face. 

She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s just hard,” she admits. “Seeing you in pain like this.” 

“Why?” You dare to ask, the question barely louder than a whisper. She looks at you and then back to the ice. 

“I care about you a lot,” she says, like it pains her. It feels like all the air has left your lungs. 

“I care about you, too,” you reply, hoping more than anything that she means it the same way as you. 

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” 

“A kiss?” It’s meant to be a joke, like when your mom would kiss a paper cut or a scrap just to make it feel better. And then you inwardly kick yourself because you know you did not just ask stone-cold Agatha Harkness to kiss your knee. 

But she smirks and then you realize that you never specified which part of your body you wanted her to kiss. 

She leans in, hand grabbing onto the arm of the sofa next to you to hold herself up and she brushes her lips against yours. It’s barely anything, easily written off, but when she pulls back, her eyes are dilated. 

“Did that make your knee feel better?” She asks playfully. 

You pretend to think about it for a second and then you tilt your head. “You know what? It did. Better do it again so it helps even more.” 

This time, her tongue parts your lips and licks into your mouth. Her other hand slides under your shirt to feel your stomach and heat starts to course through you. You moan into her mouth and wrap your arms around her so pull her even closer. She shifts and accidentally bumps your knee and you hiss in pain. 

“Fuck, sorry!” She exclaims, jerking back like she was burned. 

“No, you’re okay,” you groan. “I just don’t know if this is the best way to do this.” You pout because you want to keep kissing her, you need to feel her. 

A sly smile spreads onto her face. “I know something else that might help.” You raise your eyebrows in question and inhale sharply as she carefully moves down your body so her head is right by your underwear. She toys with the waistband, checking to make sure it’s okay. You nod more eagerly than you ever have in your life. “If it hurts your knee, let me know.” 

“Okay,” you breathe and you shiver when she pulls your wet underwear to the side and the cold air hits your pussy. 

And then she lazily licks through your folds, swirling her tongue on your clit and your back arches off the couch. 

“Fuck,” you moan, one hand tangling in her hair and the other grabbing the side of the couch. She continues softly lapping at you, fingers digging into your hips to keep them still so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself by moving. Agatha takes her time tasting you, making a noise every and then that makes your head fall back. 

Your pleasure slowly builds from her hot, careful mouth on you, but Agatha doesn’t seem to mind. She alternates dipping her tongue into your pussy and then sucking your clit and back again. She gets more enthusiastic about it once she feels confident that she’s not hurting you and begins to be a little rougher. 

“I’m getting close, Agatha,” you whimper and it’s the first time you’ve ever called her by her first name. She must realize it too because she groans into your pussy and sucks hard on your clit, sending you over the edge. Sounds fall out of your mouth as you cum, hips trying but failing to buck against her tight grip to ride it out. 

“Is your knee okay?” is the first thing she asks when she stops licking at you. You laugh at the timing of the question. 

“Yes, it feels totally fine.” 

Agatha leans down to peck your lips. “Okay, good. Still, I’m going to make an appointment at my doctor this afternoon. I’ll take you.” 

Even though she just ate you out, this is the sexiest you’ve ever seen her. So caring, so protective. Your heart yearns for more of this woman. 

“You don’t have to do all that,” you protest though, not wanting to ask for more than she’s already given you. She waves her hand to shush you. 

“Nonsense. I’m going to take care of you because apparently no one else can. And I want to.”

You smile fondly at her and tug at hair to bring her in for a deeper kiss this time. “I want you to as well.” 

And she does.

[defmaybe]

Safe

IVE’s An Yujin x Male Reader

2.4k words

Sequel to Shame

A/N: Again, dubious consent. Please proceed with caution. Thanks for reading! Also, I've started my ko-fi page too! If you'd like any commissions, ask ahead! Or you can also simply donate! Thanks!

—

“Keep shaking that ass, pretty boy. I’ll make you spread it wide and moan like a slut.”

Shivers run down your spine. Once again, Yujin’s voice tears through your heart like a jelly. She always has a way with her words. You’re left shaken, alone in the hallway. Your friends are nowhere to be seen. It’s just the murmuring, unhelpful onlookers surrounding the show of you two.

“Y–Yujin, please, seriously, stop h–harassing me,” you cry out—helpless, alone.

The growing length inside your pants tells a different story.

You hear Yujin scoff, before she clicks her heels against the tile floor. She’s walking towards you with purpose. Every step towards her frozen prey excites her. A small, evil laugh leaves her mouth.

“Bloody hell, you’re a stubborn one, aren't you?” she playfully asks, before landing a slap on your firm ass. You yelp.

“Th–This isn’t r–right, Yujin. You can’t just–ah!”

She delivers a loud smack on your supple rear again—grabbing, squeezing, kneading. She loves this. She loves to see you surrendering to her fully. You feel her undeniable heat on your back.

“You just can’t stop getting off in public, don’t you?” She then takes a swipe of her tongue off your ear, and your body shudders in response.

“Y–Yujin–”

“Look at you, that dick-sucking mouth not going along with your thoughts. You’re all hard now, don’t you?” She grabs your bulge harshly, feeling your hardness, delivering a powerful shock through your limbs. “I wanna see that pathetic cock twitch while I force that tight ass open.”

“Ngh.” You hear some onlookers chuckle at your whimper, but you just don’t have the resolve to look at them.

“Yes, moan for me, pretty boy, be my good little slut, and I might just reward you with something,” whispers Yujin into your shaken ear.

“B–But–”

“But what, you little man-whore? You love this, don’t you? You love being groped by a woman like me—domineering, harsh, unrelenting.” Her hands snake under your shirt, feeling every curve and contours of you. Your hands find handles on her meaty thighs. You hear her breath hitch slightly as your hands find her, but her resolve doesn’t falter even by slightly.

“I know you love having those cute–” she pauses, leaving time for her fingers to have a squeeze on your stiffened nubs. You moan out breathlessly in response, “–nipples played with.”

Her hands on your chest send jolts and jolts of ecstasy through your compliant body. Your grips on her thighs become tighter and tighter. You hear her moan softly, but she doesn’t let up. She won’t let up.

“I know you love having me jerking you off like that. Bet you went home that day and jerked off again—closing your eyes, imagining that it was my hand.”

“Th–That’s not true, Y–Yujin. I–I didn’t–”

“Hush, but you don’t stop just there. You put a big fucking dildo inside your ass, bouncing on it like some common whore, thinking it’s my strap, don’t you?” Yujin asks. Her finger is circling around your snug hole now, teasing you.

“As I’ve said before, it’s a waste of a good ass like this–” her fingers find your lissome rear under the waistband. She gives it a firm wrap of fingers, “–on someone as puritan as you, fucking Victorian slut.”

“Hhngn,” you whimper. The sensation of her finger on your snug hole is just too much. Your breaths come out shallow. Your cock twitches inside your pants furiously. You can feel a smirk beside your nifty ear. She’s revelling in this—the way you act, the eyes of the public, this whole damn dynamic.

“Don’t you, pretty boy? Don’t you love when your ass is stuffed with my giant cock? Hitting that soft, mushy prostate until you cum like a goddamn fountain,” Yujin continues to tease while her hand is feeling your tight ass under your fit pants, perfectly tailored for a woman like her to ogle at.

“I–I–”

“I wanna hear you say it, my little man-whore. I want you to say that you love being fucked right in that tight big ass by me,” Yujin commands, her voice laced with venom. Her hands are grabbing on the side of your meaty thighs now.

“I–I can’t, Y–Yujin, I shouldn’t,” you plead, though your heartbeats and the throbbing cock don’t support your case at all.

“Oh, why not, pretty boy? Don’t you love sucking my cock? Don’t you love getting plowed by daddy, huh?” Yujin asks seductively. She’s on your hardness now, and you can only shudder in response to her.

“D–D–Daddy?”

An evil laugh leaves her mouth as she flicks her tongue inside your ear again. “Yeah, daddy, my little cockslut.”

“N–No, Yujin, you’re not my–”

“Yes, I am, you fucking bitch. And you’ll give me the respect I fucking deserve, alright?” Yujin’s voice grows harsher now. Her grip on your cock grows tighter. Maybe this playing hard to get thing should end.

“Hgnn.”

“I know you want this, bitch, but you’re just too much of a coward to admit it,” she says, gently nibbling on your ear again.

“Wh–What if I don’t, Y–Yujin?”

“Goddamn it, maybe I should just leave then.” She then pulls her filthy hand away from your length, leaving it twitching emptily. She walks away from you, eventually. You’re left alone in the hallway again. The clicking of her heels becomes dimmer and dimmer. A sound of disappointment can be heard from the crowd.

You ask yourself: why am I like this? Is it shame? Is it pride? Why can’t you just let An Yujin plow your ass into oblivion?

It’s true, the accusations Yujin had about you. It’s always her when you’re alone in your bedroom. Your hand furiously sliding up and down your stiff cock while thinking of your bully jerking you off. You love the way she smelled that day. It was nothing short of wonderful. And you didn’t stop just there. A dildo you bought from the internet wasn’t for nothing. You lathered it with a generous amount of lube before slamming your tight ass down onto it. You moaned and moaned in ecstasy, thinking it was An Yujin fucking your ass.

A small part of you then overpowers you for a second.

“Wait!” You turn back to her.

She stops in her tracks, completely frozen, before she rotates herself back to you. A wicked, frightening smile is painted on her face. She laughs.

“Fucking finally, you bitch,” she says before slowly taking a stride towards you, one leg in front of the other.

Again, you smell her perfume as she gets closer—Yves Saint Laurent’s Libre. It’s intoxicating. Her firm midriff only entices you once more. You wish you could just give it a taste. The way she walks is alluring, meticulously designed to lure you into her, onto the huge strap she has in her locker.

“My little slut, giving in to his goddamn desires,” Yujin mocks you, but you only feel more aroused by her demeaning words. “I love little hard-mouthed brats like you, you know?”

She then rests her arms on your shoulder, pulling you closer by the neck. “And I’m going to fuck that tight ass until you can’t walk for a goddamn week,” Yujin whispers, smiling sinfully.

“Shall we?” she asks, pointing her head towards the women’s bathroom. “Hands on the sink, I’ll spread those cheeks so fucking wide then stick my cock into that tight hole.”

“O–Okay, Y–Yujin.”

—

The women’s bathroom is undeniably clean, well-lit, all-white. It’s much, much better than the men’s. It’s going to get dirty a bit, though—your drool mixed with your cum on the floor and all.

You’re standing face-to-face with Yujin. She’s a little taller than you, so you’re looking up to face her. You can see the fire inside her gorgeous eyes.

“Take that goddamn pants off, pretty boy.” You comply with Yujin’s command immediately, leaving your lower half with the boxers that’s struggling to contain your hardness.

Yujin’s eyes gleam with desire. She immediately grabs your cock through the thin cloth, making you moan in response to her sudden touch.

“Y–Yujin~ Ngh.”

“God, I wish I had this cock to myself. I’d love to see it twitch when I fuck that pretty ass of yours.”

You can do nothing but whimper. Her hand feels so warm, even though it's just on the boxers. 

She starts to stroke that thick cock of yours through the cloth, stealing your already-scarce breath away.

“Y–Yujin~”

She says nothing, only a smile spreads across her face. She’s standing tall in front of you, jerking you off like she did that day. You can sense that her breaths are getting ragged, same as yours.

“D–Don’t get too excited, pretty boy. This is just the start.”

She adeptly twists her wrist as she reaches the tip, making the entire experience much, much more pleasing than it should be. Her free hand slithers under her own waistband, determined to relieve the heat that has been building inside of her.

“Yujin, w–what are you–”

“Shhh, pretty boy, I need a relief too, you know?” Her free wrist disappears under her short shorts that show off her meaty, supple thighs. You can see the movement within them now. She’s masturbating while jerking you off.

“R–Really, Yujin? I–I mean I can–”

“Don’t worry–” she brings out her juice-slicked hand to cup your face. You’re resisting with every fibre of you to not give it a taste. “–Daddy can do it by herself, alright?”

It’s an unusual warmth from Yujin. You’re a little taken aback by this sudden care. Left speechless, you are.

“I–I–uh–”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” She then draws her hand back into her slit, still smiling, thrusting her fingers into her cunt under the shorts. Small moans are heard leaving her mouth.

“Feels so–hmm–good, pretty boy,” she moans. The hand on your cock is still relentlessly pumping the life out of you.

The sight of this is unreal if you’re asked. An Yujin is masturbating in front of you with one hand while jerking you off with the other. The face she makes is nothing short of lewd—eyes fluttering, mouth opening wide. She’s lost in pleasure, and so are you.

Her wrist remains masterful at making you moan uncontrollably—slowing down at the hilt, while twisting it slightly as she reaches the top. It’s sending you into rapture, and you don’t think you can hold it off for long.

“You know, pretty boy, you’re cute when you’re like this,” Yujin says, giving you the rare, sincere smile.

“L–Like what, Yujin?”

“Well, under my control is one thing, of course.” She lets out a chuckle, amused by your quizzical reaction. “But you also look kinda–pretty, like actually pretty when you’re moaning.”

You try your best to not let out a smile in front of your bully. Is she actually complimenting you? It’s a rare sight, really.

“Maybe it’s just me, you know–” she laughs nervously, her movements become more erratic “–but I just love it when men moan because of me.”

“I–I think it’s p–pretty obvious, Y–Yujin.” Pleasure shoots through your body, making your words come out stuttered.

She lets out a small laugh that she doesn’t bother to conceal anymore. Is this more than a tryst?

But before you can think of anything, you can feel the ever-so-familiar feeling building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum, your breathing becomes shorter and shorter. She’s going to cum too—her thighs clench, her pupils dilate, and same as you, her breathing becomes shorter and shorter as the fingering goes on.

“Yujin, I–I’m gonna cum,” you utter. You can’t hold it anymore. You have to cum in her hands, right now.

“C–Cum with me, a–alright?” Yujin then quickly kneels down, sliding your boxers down with her motion. Your stiff cock springs free in arousal.

“Yujin, w–what are you–ah!”

Her lips connect with your hardness. Your bully is giving you a blowjob in the women’s bathroom now. She slides her mouth along your length with an unmatched adeptness. Fuck, she’s pushing you down her throat.

“D–Daddy,” you moan out. Her mouth is nothing short of perfection—the suction, the warmth, the tightness. They’re all so heavenly. You’re so lost in the pleasure right now, and you aren’t sure if anything could compare to this. Her fingers are still knuckles deep inside her cunt, making her moan into your cock relentlessly.

The way she looks into your eyes, god, you’re in the clouds. Those eyes are nothing short of angelic, and the fact only makes your orgasm come quicker and quicker.

“Daddy, I–I’m gonna–”

Yujin buries herself into your crotch, taking your entire length with bravery, bringing you into the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Your cock spews cum into her throat without relenting. Your body shakes and writhes in the godly climax. Your vision turns white. In front of you, Yujin also cums, squirt leaks out of her torn shorts. Her entire frame is tensed up in ecstasy. Her eyes flutter in rapture. She cums, hard.

Your orgasms then die down. Your heartbeats decelerate. Her squirt can be seen on the floor—fucking dirty. Some of your white nectar leaks out of her mouth, such a lewd sight.

Yujin then stands up, towering over you once more. You’re lost in her eyes. She’s so beautiful like this—messy hair, panting, cum leaking out from her lips. She’s an angel.

Fuck, you may have fallen in love with her.

Boldly, you pull her into a kiss, a deep kiss. Your tongue invades her mouth, tasting the remnants of your cum inside. It doesn’t taste the best, but you’re kissing An Yujin right now, and you don’t care whatever she tastes like.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull back from her lips. You find the rosy hue in her cheeks. She loved it as much as you did.

“Wow,” says Yujin. She’s speechless. Her breaths are out of rhythm. Her pupils dilate.

She has fallen in love with you too.

“I–I don’t know what to say, pretty boy.”

“There’s no need, Yujin. You’ve told me everything I need to know.”

—

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)

[jennydwren]

Lord of the Rings Online, my love. At one point as you attempt to retake Moria from the orcs, you are tasked with finding the bottom of a well. Lots of achievements in the game reward you with small amounts of points you can use in the cash shop, such as getting to increasing reputation levels with various factions. However, if you do the dipshit thing and immediately leap into said well to find the bottom of it with your face, sure you die... but you get 5 cash shop points and an honorific title you can display (thus people see you as Y/N, The Well-Travelled, of course... the devs love their dad jokes) for plunging into the abyss, along with 500 points of reputation with one of the two local dwarven factions. Really devoted to jumping into pits? Find six specific ones down there, jump into all of them and die six fully avoidable deaths... 5 cash shop points, 500 points of reputation, and the title Blind Leaper. Want to go out like Movie Denethor? Jump off the prow of Minas Tirith. You are now Y/N, the Flighty. 5 cash shop points, 500 points of reputation with the locals. (For comparison, this recurring amount is more than some actual quests give.)

But the goofiest, BY FAR the most avoidable death comes much earlier in the game, as you redundantly kill dead things in the Barrow-downs between the Old Forest and Bree. Some enemies or chests have a chance to bestow upon you, I am not making this up, "Corrupt Cheese" aka "Barrow-brie." Eat this and it will continue damaging you every 2 seconds for 20 minutes. You will die unless you've significantly overleveled the area and/or have a patient friend handy to keep healing you for 20 minutes. Reward: The title The Unwise (which is putting it mildly if you ate cheese you found in a tomb... even Indiana Jones wasn't that much of a goober) and yes, 500 points of local reputation. The Men of Bree are, for obscure video game logic reasons, favorably impressed by your complete lack of food safety knowledge.

I just love it when video games let you do really stupid shit that kills you immediately. I love being like "oh this is a terrible idea" and being able to do it and then die. It's good game design.

[filmtv2022]

Our Time is Limited (18+)

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader

-- Platonic/former lover relationship with Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Synopsis: Reader has belonged to Caracalla for as long as she can remember, her job has been to love and serve him in the quiet moments when even the attention of a concubine cannot suffice. She has served the emperor in whatever capacity he desired. Through the years her love for him grew beyond what many would have deemed proper for one in her position of employment, but it was not a romantic love. The presence of disease had stolen the man she'd once given everything to. Left to care for Caracalla in the midst of his break from reality, Emperor Geta and the reader are forced to admit the feelings they've long harbored for one another.

Warnings: SMUT/sexual acts + "cheating" (but not really, Caracalla and reader no longer have that kind of relationship) + alcohol consumption + language (?)

A/N: Well... when I said the crazy emperors had my brain... I wasn't lying. I have not abandoned my Marcus Acacius story... I just needed to get this off my mind. That said, there may be one more part of this depending on how I feel and how this does. I apologize for any mistakes. I wrote this in a couple of hours.

Out of the corner of his eye, Emperor Geta caught your approach. His eyes locked onto you, searching for any sign of anxiety or nerves. He knew without question that you desired to be anywhere but here, and still, he didn't doubt that your loyalty remained strong. Your features were stoney and severe with your attention falling to his brother whose eyes were on the scantly clad man sat before him. The burnt orange of your stola matched the hue his brother famously loved and complimented the bare expanse of skin along the shapely curve of your arms and shoulders. You were positively stunning, every bit the measure of the well-to-do women who adorned their husbands' arms. 

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Hovering in the background, you squeezed between the spectators, inching closer to the emperors. The copper-headed pair sat surrounded by their entourage of concubines and common whores whose sole purpose was to entertain, to give in to the whims of the men they served. Your role was not entirely different, and yet, you were to be set apart from the others. Your presence at these events was required, but the emperors would sooner murder than allow the public to view you in the same light as those whose hands roamed their bodies in public. You served a much more intimate purpose. Therefore, you kept your distance, leaving just enough space between yourself and them so that no eyes would wonder and question. 

Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Geta hesitated for a moment, seeing the weariness behind your eyes. Something troubled you, but given the state of his brother's mental well-being, it was likely as anything that was the cause of your worry. With nothing to be done at the time, he reached for the concubine he’d carted along for the day's festivities. Hauling her close, he let the weight of her hand against his chest, settle the crashing energy that sang through his body, but nothing was a match for the intensity of the fight that erupted amongst the gladiators. 

The fight was brutal and quick. The larger man crumpled into a bloody heap, soaking the marble floor in a sea of sickly scarlet. The pool smeared beneath the weight of his body as the guards dragged him out of the room. The grunts and moans of pain were soon replaced by the questioning trill of Emperor Geta. The fight had clearly impressed him. The eloquent sound of poetry rolling off the tongue of the victor caught you as strange, but now was not the time to linger. With the crowd in awe and Geta keyed up, it felt like the appropriate moment to slink back into oblivion. 

You maneuvered down a darkened hall, the only light poured in amber waves along the stone from the torches that lined the walls. The walk passed without note, the distant sound of chatter gave way to the echo of your sandaled feet. Each step brought you further from the chaos of the arena and for that you were grateful. No matter how many games you saw, the violence never grew more appealing. You couldn’t blame the emperors for enjoying the joys they were afforded in life, but that did nothing to change your opinion. They could eat, drink, fuck, and enjoy whatever and whomever they desired. Your job was simply to be there when called. No questions or judgment, and that was more than enough for you to handle. 

The sudden clomp of footfalls barreling down the corridor sent electricity singing down your spine. Snapping back in their direction, you reached for the blade which sat flush along your thigh. The metal was warm to the touch, the heat of your body having warmed it palpably. No sooner had you freed it of its holster, than a familiar face rounded the corner. Emperor Geta’s pale face glowed oddly in the flickering light, the shadows casting his features in mystery. Sliding your weapon back into place, you stayed rooted to the spot and waited the mere seconds it took for him to close the space between you. 

“Where are you going?” His voice was soft as he crowded into your space. His hands flexed at his sides, itching to touch you, to hold you close, but that was a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross, if only for the sake of his brother’s well-being. “My brother… he calls for you.”

Your face dropped to the floor, unable to stand the burn of his molten stare. “I am unwell… my-my head.” The lie was partially rooted in truth. The violence of the fight brought back memories of a long past day that led you to the gates of the palace, in need of a kindness that only those in power could grant you. The simple memory of which brought you real physical pain.

“Have you eaten today? Perhaps some wine and bread could cure what ails you. I have selected the best for our celebration.” A thin smile flashed upon the emperor’s face, pulling the corner of his lips up in a beautiful tilt though the grin didn’t meet his eyes.

“As much as I adore your taste in wine, I do not believe any amount of drink will ease the pain I am feeling. Now if you’ll excuse me, Emperor.”  The swish of your stola brushing against your skin sounded as you turned away. 

Panic flashed hot forcing Geta to move… to speak. “Wait!” His outstretched hand sat in the space between you for only a moment before dropping back to his side. “He needs you… he’s- he’s struggling. Today is not a good day.” 

“I am aware, but he has you.” 

“But I am not the one he desires.” Once again, Geta stepped closer, pleading with you to listen. “I fear what he will do, how he will act before the public today without you by his side. Please, for his sake… and for my own. Care for him as only you are able.” 

The sheen that pooled in Geta’s eyes was enough to flip your stomach. This cruel and vicious man held his heart wide for those he loved. It was a select few, but those he cared for in that way were not only adored beyond measure but treated with a life only he could provide. There was a true sincerity to it. He held his brother dear despite the many rumors that circulated about the pair. Caracalla had long since been the subject of jokes and cruel speculation. It was true, the illness that plagued his loins had spread to his brain, eating away at the once vibrant and loving man he’d once been. And yet, no matter how much he’d lost to the disease, there was always a thread of his former self there to reel him in and back to reality.  

But as of late, that thin connection between reality and fantasy had grown more fragile. It took a delicate hand to keep Caracalla balanced, especially in front of important company and prying eyes. You and Emperor Geta were the cherished few who had the ability to return Caracalla to this world, and increasingly, your loving touch seemed to be the only thing that worked. 

“I understand. I will do what is necessary.” You nodded shallowly, acknowledging the favor the emperor had asked of you. “Let us not linger, it is unwise for him to be alone with those vultures you surround yourselves with.” 

A flicker of shock at your boldness shot across his features, but he decided against pursuing the thoughts and questions that flooded his mind. Instead, he settled with a simple statement of thanks before guiding you back to his brother. 

The murmur of people grew louder with each passing step until it reached a tipping point. Back inside the space you’d fled so quickly, you searched the crowd for Caracalla. It took only seconds to find him, standing beside the table overflowing with treats and wine. Your approach was lost on him, his entire focus settled on selecting the next delicacy. With his stability in question, you knew it would be wise to make your presence known before stepping into the space beside him. 

“Emperor Caracalla!” The youthful man turned to find the person who’d spoken, and at the sight of you, an enormous grin erupted from ear to ear across his pockmarked face. “What delicious finds have you discovered for us today?!” The shirtless man who’d accompanied the emperor from before took one look at you and decided he was no longer needed. Relieved of his duty, he retreated to stand with the group of concubines that had formed near the entrance, greeting the guests as they moved to and fro. 

“My dear!” Crumbs adorned the corners of his mouth as he held the remnants of a pastry in his hand. “Come! You must try this! It is simply delightful!” 

The emperor met you halfway, holding out the last bite for you to take. You could feel the stares that descended upon the pair of you as he held the last bite to your lips. You opened for him, luxuriating in the sweetness that coated your tongue. Caracalla’s eyes gleamed with delight at the sound of your satisfied hum of appreciation unaware of how this interaction would appear to others. 

“It was delicious. Thank you for sharing.” You reached for his face and brushed away the flecks of baked dough that clung to his makeuped countenance. Avoiding the open marks that even rouge could not cover, you pushed through the pain to give him the smile he so clearly wanted to see. The boyish wonder in his eyes was catching.

The emperor’s fragile hands settled on your waist. His touch was not that of a lover, but that of a young man desperate for the attention and love he deserved. Holding you close as he spoke. “Where did you go? I’d thought you’d left me.” Caracalla paused for a moment intending to let you speak, but the furrow of your brows kept the words flowing. “Are you all right? Your brow is pinched. You only get that look when you are in pain.” 

Tenderly, you swept a stray hair away from his temple. “I am as well as can be expected, and please, forgive me for my momentary absence. The swell of noise during the fight was too much for me to handle. But I am here now. I would never leave you.” 

“But you are not well… I can see it here. It is one of your head pains.” The pad of his finger ran between your brows and down the bridge of your nose. “You need not be brave for me. You must rest, there will be many more games for you to enjoy.” 

Sensing a pair of knowing eyes upon you, your attention flicked in the direction of Emperor Geta and found him watching just as you’d suspected. Even without words, you knew exactly what he asked. The nearly imperceptible nod of your head assured him that you were going to uphold your promise. 

“I appreciate your kindness, Emperor, but my place is here… with you. There will be time for rest later. Besides, I’m sure a steady flow of wine and pastries would do me good.” You forced yourself to smile once more before heading toward the table. “Join me. Tell me what I must try!” 

A gleeful laugh bubbled from Caracalla as he followed quickly behind. The pair of you stayed like this, tasting and drinking until it was time to retreat to the Emperors’ box for the games. Focused only on the task at hand, your eyes never ventured into the arena. Rather, you studied the way Caracalla moved, the cadence of his speech, admiring the way his eyes lit up at the clash of swords.  Through all this, unbeknownst to you, Geta’s attention split between the violence unfolding before him and yourself. He clung to the sound of your laughter and marked the hazy film that unfocused your gaze the longer the day drug on. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the pain you’d claimed to be ailed by earlier had grown nearly unbearable, and yet your attention never wavered. The dedication you showed his brother filled him with something he couldn’t label. The warmth low in his belly belied just how fully he’d come to care for you. 

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Night had settled upon the emperors' residence. The halls fluttered with torchlight, but the depths of Geta’s chambers were a murky gray, illuminated only by the moon filtering through curtains that swayed in the breeze. The concubines he’d selected to entertain his needs lay spread out over his bed, their bare skin damp with sweat from the night’s activities. The only sound besides that of their gentle breathing was the rustle of the soldiers posted outside his door. One could never be too careful. 

The blissful silence had him drifting into sleep when the sudden thunder of banging upon his door ripped him from the edge of slumber. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he reached for the knife that sat beneath his pillow, ready to defend himself should the need arise. Geta’d barely managed to extricate himself from the pile of limbs he’d been entangled with and don his robes when the frantic call of your voice pleading with his praetorian sent dread running through his limbs. Heavy with worry and lack of sleep, he pushed across the large room and ripped open the door. 

The movement was followed by your lithe frame pushing inside his chambers, and what he saw only heightened his fear. Crimson stained your cheek, running down the smooth expanse of your neck before soaking into the luscious fabric of the robe you had wrapped around yourself. He recognized it at once as belonging to Caracalla. The fact that you’d been attending to his brother was not unexpected, but the wound that marred your face was terrifying. 

“You’re hurt! Tell me at once who did this to you!?” Geta’s voice shook with the effort it took to maintain his control. Behind him, the stirring of his “guests” went unnoticed. His calloused fingers wiped gently at the oozing cut along the top of your cheek. You’d flinched from the pain, reaching for his wrist to still his ministrations. Frozen in place at the feeling of your touch, he waited barely breathing for your response. 

“It’s your brother! He woke in a fit, he… he didn’t recognize me. He tried to- he thou- he thought I was there to kill him. He-” 

“He did this to you?!” It wasn’t so much a question to you, but to himself for this was the thing he’d always feared. The day in which even your presence wouldn’t be enough to return him to this world. 

“Yes.” You whispered, afraid of what this could mean for the beautiful men you’d come to adore after all this time. The pain in Geta’s eyes at your confusion was crushing. “I am so sorry, Geta.”

“Do not apologize. I will take care of this.” Forced to let go of you, he spoke quickly with his guards before dismissing his guests. The women scrambled for any scrap of clothing they could find and made their hasty exit. 

Moving on his command, the soldiers hastened toward Caracalla’s chamber, leaving you behind with Geta. Alone, he grabbed for a chiton that lay draped over the chair beside him. Reaching for you, he pressed the cloth to your cheek applying pressure as he spoke, “Stay here, and keep this on the wound until I return. When I leave, lock the door behind me and open for no one other than myself. Understand?” 

“Yes.” A slight nod from him was all he managed before turning to follow his praetorian. 

Doing as you were told, you soon moved further into the room. You admired the lived-in feel it maintained despite the solid marble that made up every surface. The bed sat disheveled, clearly the night's adventures had been rather boisterous. Staring at the tangle of sheets, you felt the bile rise in your stomach. You laid no claim upon Geta and yet you couldn’t stop the bubble of envy that stirred in your soul. 

The breeze fluttered through the curtains allowing you to peer beyond the protective walls of the palace to the streets of Rome. Even at this late hour, people moved about. Some lit their path with flame while others remained shrouded in darkness, praying they could slither about unnoticed. It took only a few more steps to reach the balcony. Fresh air filled your lungs as you leaned against the entryway, your nerves still buzzing with anxiety. Time slipped by unreliably. Each minute an hour, fraying the last of your resolve into shreds. 

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Eventually, a soft knock accompanied by Geta’s worn voice pulled you across the room. Petrified to know what had become of the situation, you hesitated before opening the door. The wood groaned under your touch, but it was the tear-streaked face that lay on the other side that nearly stopped your heart. 

“What happened?” You inquired, giving Geta space to slip inside his room. The loud thunk of the lock being placed filled the silence before he gathered the strength to speak. 

Reaching for the cloth you pressed to your cheek, his voice trembled, the gravel in it even more present. “It is taken care of.” The soft thump of the chiton hitting the floor punctuated his confession. The pit in your stomach was anything but relieved by his answer.

“What does that mean?” You searched for signs of gore along the cuffs of his robes, terrified of what you might find.

“He’s sedated. May the gods right his mind during this sleep.” You watched Geta as he scanned over the now-clotted wound along your cheek. Though you couldn’t see, there was no doubt that deep shades of blue and purple had already begun to bloom alongside where the knife had sliced your skin. 

“Come here. We must clean this or risk infection.” He moved toward the nearby table.

“It is alright. I can take care of it myself. There is acetum and honey in Caracalla’s chamber. There is no need to waste your supply or your time. You must be exhausted.” Tired only of pretending, Geta’s sturdy frame crowded your space, backing you gently into the cool expanse of stone next to the doorframe. With nowhere to go, you forced yourself to look him in the eye for the first time since he’d returned from tending to his brother.

Words clawed at the back of your throat, trapped beneath the swell of emotions that burned the bridge of your nose. As if moving on their own accorded, Geta’s sure hands found the curve of your waist and the stained column of your neck. Resting his brow against yours, the warmth of his breath drifted over your face as he spoke. “Stay here... with me. I do not care for the idea of you alone with him. Not after this.” 

Geta’s chapped lips brushed over yours, never quite embracing the plush expanse of your mouth, but it was more than enough to send a flush rushing over your skin. Your lungs hitched at the feeling of his mouth falling to the hollow of your neck. He hovered over your body, only catching skin for fractions of a second at a time. Your hands found him, running the length of his chest before dipping inside his robes to trace light lines over the ripple of muscle that lay beneath the surface. Geta’s own lungs caught at the press of your hand low upon his abdomen.  

Your whisper at the shell of his ear locked him in place. “I cannot stay, you know this. My place is with him.” 

“That is only half the truth and you know it. You feel it the same as I… you belong here… with me. You always have.” 

“My contract would say otherwise.” The raw ache in your voice pulled Geta back to look at your face. Silver pools threatened to fall as you continued, “Until your brother passes or frees me from his service, I belong to him and no other. It matters not what I feel for you.” 

“You cannot believe that.” 

“Then what am I to believe?” Defiantly, you pressed the flat of your palms to his chest and pushed him back further. “He is the emperor of Rome, the same as you. To defy him would mean my death, even you could not overrule that.” 

“He would he would never have to know.” 

“Secrets move like lightning in this palace. There would be no keeping this from him.” You moved to make your exit, but the firm grip of Geta’s hand on your wrist kept you from fleeing. You whipped to face him, striking with your words like a snake, “My death would be on your hands and I do not want that weighing on your conscience. Not now, too much rests on your shoulders. If you feel for me as you say you do… then you know what we must be to each other. We can have nothing more.” 

“I’m tired of waiting, of pretending that I want anyone but you warming my bed. You are what I desire, what I have always desired. Must I continue to lie to appease my brother?” 

“Your brother’s time grows short. I will not squander it and neither should you!” 

“There are enemies around every corner, there is no promise of tomorrow. Why should I deny myself what I want most?” Swiftly, Geta hauled you close, his lips crashed against yours, devouring the taste of you. With your back against the wall once more, he slotted his thigh between your own, pressing you down upon himself and earning the most glorious moan from your lips. Caution was thrown to the gods as you threaded your fingers through his hair, holding firm to the roots as he palmed your breasts over your robes. The swipe of his thumb over your nipple sent shivers down your spine and sparked a newfound energy in the emperor. 

He wanted more, needed more. The sounds of your altered breathing, paired with the dampness pooling along his thigh gave him the permission to keep going. With practiced ease, he untied the knot at your waist, and pushed the oversized robe from your shoulders, exposing you to him. 

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled against your skin as he spoke. His lips worked a line of fire from the hollow of your neck to your chest. The talented flick of his tongue over your nipple had you gasping for air. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Tiny whimpers from you accompanied his continued journey south. Dropping to his knees, he found himself mesmerized by the feeling of your skin beneath his lips. Calloused hands roamed the broad expanse of your stomach before dropping to explore your thighs. 

Geta nipped and sucked at the skin there, leaving marks only he’d know existed. Nearly to where you needed to feel him the most, the emperor pulled back, leaving your skin on fire and your need unfulfilled. A whine ripped from your lungs as your eyes dropped to look at him, and what you found was intoxicating. Geta’s eyes were blown, the rich brown was hidden behind his pupils. Lust had replaced all other emotions. 

Your fingers ran through his soft strands in a feeble attempt at guiding him back to you. When you felt him resist, you finally spoke. “Why have you stopped?” 

Geta’s strong hands gripped the back of your legs, keeping you steady as he spoke. “Believe me when I say this, I love you. Nothing will stand between us. I vow to protect you until my dying day”

The emperor didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, his mouth returned to you, this time right where you’d wanted him before. The steady pressure of his lips around your sensitive bud would have been enough to bring you over the edge, but the insistent curl of his fingers in your core had you keening. Geta hummed against you adding to the pleasure. It had been far too long since you’d felt the loving touch of another. What existed between you and Caracalla had never made it to this point. For certain, there had been romantic moments, sensual touches, and lust-fueled encounters, but those had long since ceased. Even prior to the onset of his illness things had begun to shift. But the real change had come upon him falling ill. This had brought about a necessary departure from that kind of bond. The disease that stole him from reality also stole him from the urges that all humans felt, leaving you to take care of yourself in those moments for far too long. 

But in this room, surrounded by only moonlight, and the man at your feet, you found yourself again. It took only a few more well-placed strokes of his fingers for Geta to bring you over the edge. Sparks tore through your body, causing your muscles to spam and your core to clench in rhythmic waves around his fingers. Carefully, Geta worked you through your release stopping only once he felt your body relax. Unsure of your ability to stay standing on your own, he stood to full height, capturing your lips at once. 

You could taste yourself upon his lips, earning him a heady groan. Wanting to hear more of you, he brought his slick-covered fingers to your mouth, running his calloused fingers lips along them before dipping past your lips. The plush heat of your tongue swirling around him, sent his head spinning as he purred in your ear. “Good girl.” 

You could feel him hard against your stomach, his own robes were now damp with arousal. The desire to return the favor was overwhelming, and had it not been for his next request, you’d have dropped to your knees just then. Geta smoothly whispered. “Let me take you to bed, even if it’s just for tonight. Let me love you the way you deserve.” 

Geta’s wide palms slid over your backside before lifting you gracefully into his arms. Stumbling back to his bed, he lowered you into the expanse of soft sheets that covered the mattress. With you safe and settled, he stepped back and removed his robe. Dropping the burgundy and gold material to the ground, his fist ran the length of his cock, tearing a hiss from between his teeth as he rolled over the throbbing tip. 

Geta’s self-control crumbled at the sight of you sprawled out before him. Your hands roamed your own body fluttering over your core and massaging your breasts. With each pass of your fingers, his need to feel you wrapped around him grew too much to bear. Done with waiting, done with watching, the emperor lowered himself on top of you, collecting your slick with his member before easing himself inside. Geta’s strong arms caged you in, blocking out everything but the feeling of you and him together. He searched for your lips, needing to kiss you, but the embrace soon turned into nothing more than swallowing each other's moans. Each roll of his hips brought you closer to the edge once more, even as he clung to the final shred of himself. 

“Geta, please…” The pitiful sound of his name tumbling from your lips, accompanied the drag of your nails along his back. Your actions were sure to have left a mark, but it mattered not. With one final pull at the base of his hair, Geta let himself go. You were soon to follow. Your ragged breaths matched with his as he lowered himself further onto you. His weight was heavy against your chest, and yet you knew without it you’d feel exposed. It was exactly what you both needed as you came down from your high. 

As your breathing slowed down, the emperor rolled to his side, leaving you empty. You whined at the loss of him, but as if sensing your need, he reached for you, hauling you close. Your face pressed into his chest as your legs tangled. Alone, in his bed, Geta pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you close. For the first time in ages, the world seemed right, as if nothing terrible could happen. He knew that come break of day things would return to normal, but for now, he’d live in this temporary reality. 

[jobean12-blog]

Heart and Hand

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: Marcus returns from battle bloodied and bruised and you help him get cleaned up.

Author's Note: It's fucking cold in NYC today. I'm already over it but I'm not over this man and since a nice hot bath would be amazing here we are! The term pteruge (which I hope is correct) is the skirt like garment the gladiators wear. Also, I read that the baths and pools were heated from hot springs below the floors-sounds good to me haha. I love this man all bloody and filthy and delicious. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: softness, fluffy moments, tension, the General is sweet as always but delicious, smut, p in v

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

Ribbons of stem snake invitingly along the surface of the water but your eyes are focused elsewhere as you untie the leather straps along the sides of the General’s cuirass.

“So much blood,” you whisper, your fingers trembling.

“And not much of it mine,” he answers, grasping your chin between his two large fingers. “I assure you my lady. I’m not hurt badly.”

Your gaze meets his and you lift a hand to run your fingertips along his temple, dust now coating your skin and dried blood flaking to the floor.

“I’m going to make sure of it,” you tell him sternly even though your expression is soft.

“I look forward to it,” he teases as his chest plate loosens and he helps you remove it.

You suck in breath, having already unwrapped his forearms and neck, and now seeing most of beautiful skin littered with bruises and cuts.

He removes his belt and the pteruge of leather straps falls to the floor, revealing every inch of him.

“We can skip the bath…”

Your eyes make a slow perusal as you fingers dance up his chest and over his shoulder. You slide them down his arm to grasp his fingers before looking pointedly at the large tub.

He pouts but eases into the water nevertheless, grimacing as it stings his wounds.

His eyebrows lift and he tilts his head. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”

Your smile is demure. “Not until I scrub you clean of all this sand and blood.”

He frowns and tugs on your fingers that are still clasped in his.

“You can do that from in the bath.”

You look down at the water, already muddied and rust colored. He tracks your gaze and let’s out a laugh, the sound warming you right down to your toes.

“As you wish my love. I suppose I can wait.”

You start with his face, gently rubbing off the dried blood then running your fingers through his hair and over his scalp, ridding it off all the dirt and grime.

His eyes fall closed, dark lashes wet and stuck together and resting against his cheeks.

With a soft kiss to his lips, you start on his neck and shoulders, careful to clean any cuts and scrapes before doing the same to his chest. When you get to his hands you place a kiss across each knuckle, your skin tingling with the anticipation of his touch.

You take special care with his legs, rubbing along the thick muscles in his thighs and calves until nothing mars his skin. Your pulse picks up in your throat when he shifts and bends his knees, and you can feel it race down the length of your spine and deep down into your stomach.

As your hands move up along his thighs you can feel him hard and heavy between. Hunger sharpens your focus, and you swallow back a moan.

“We have to drain all this dirty water,” you say.

He stands, the droplets of water running down his skin and tracing every dip and curve of muscle. You follow them, staring and he watches your gaze drop with every piece of him that’s revealed.

The need to touch him, feel his warmth and strength, pounds through you.

“Come here,” he says, his lips titling up as the bath refills with water, heated from the hot springs below the floor.

He reaches for you, his hands deft and sure as he unravels the cloth from your body.

“I will never tire of looking at you,” he murmurs, tongue wetting his lips and his eyes raking over your body.

His jaw tightens as he takes you in and through some immense force of his will, he lifts his eyes to focus on your face.

“Did bathing me make you wet my love?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Show me.”

You reach down and push a shaky hand between your legs and stroke yourself while he watches.

“I want a taste,” he growls.

Your hand pulls free, and you let it hover in front of his mouth, the slickness visible in the dim light.

You paint his lips until he parts them and then press two fingers inside. His tongue is warm and curls around your fingers. He holds you by the wrist and you can’t pull away as he sucks your fingertip, licking it like he would your clit, teasing you until your entire body aches.

He drags you closer, his body not yet touching yours, and whispers against your ear, “care to join me now my love?”

At your confirming whimper he takes your hand and helps you into the water, sitting and positioning you over his lap.

You hum out a sound of contentment and his hands glide up your thighs, callouses rough against your softness and his eyes fill with the need to touch every inch of your body and take all the time in the world to do it.

Your palm flattens against his chest, and you rock your hips, pulling a low growl from the back of his throat. Your hand dips lower, disappearing under the water to skim against his hardness, squeezing.

His large thumbs move across your nipples, rolling and pinching before his hands slide down the curve of your spine, and beneath the water to cup your ass and pull you harder against him.

You stroke your fingers down the length of his cock, and he hisses, dragging your mouth down to his in a grazing, taunting kiss.

Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and then he grabs you, crushing your bodies together. The water sloshes over the sides of the tub and your fingers comb through his silken hair, dragging along his scalp.

He moans your name and inches his face away, only enough to meet your eyes, but your lips still touch, feather light. With his gaze locked on yours he slides his hand from your ass down between your legs, finding you even wetter.

A swear leaves his lips and he brushes his fingers over you again, teasing, and slow, before he draws them back and positions you over his cock, eyes glittering with predatory intent.

You frame his face with your hands and close the small distance between you, kissing him with desperation. The broad tip of his cock nudges your entrance, and he reaches down to guide himself inside you.

He eases in, just an inch, keeping you hovering above him with his hands on your hips. He trembles, halting and kissing you softer now, sweet, as he slowly pushes into you.

“Look at me,” he breathes.

And you do.

You can’t take your eyes off him. Find yourself free-falling into his darkened eyes and beautiful face.

His hips flex, and he slides in another inch, then retreats nearly to the edge. Eyes never leaving yours, he sets a steady but slow pace, stretching you and filling you.

The water continues to fall over the sides of the tub, flooding the floor and wetting your garments. Neither of you notice and your nails dig into his shoulders as his grip turns bruising.

“I could fuck you for days,” he murmurs against your lips.

And you want him to.

But your release builds and you squeeze around him, earning a low sound of need to fall from his lips. One large hand drifts between your legs, his thick finger drawing a tight circle over your clit and you can barely stand it.

His restraint shatters and he thrusts up hard and deep, fucking you until you’re crying out and he falls with you, your name a chant on his lips.

He holds you close, your hearts beating wildly in rhythm and all you can do is breathe. When you lift your head from his neck your next breath catches in your throat.

You see the words in his eyes, the same ones you know lay in your own, the same ones you’ve said a million times. He dips his head, brushing his mouth along one cheek, then the other. You close your eyes, savoring in the feel of his lips on your over-hot skin. Every gentle kiss echoes the words that lay unspoken between you.

[artyandink]

libidinal

If Dean could curse every witch on this planet for dosing you and him with an aphrodisiac after ganking them, he would. His entire body was on fire— burning, and his mind was embarrassingly stuck on you. You, your thighs, lips, your ass. It all rattled about in his head like a broken record, and he craved you, craved the relief like crazy.

He knew that you were feeling the same things he was right now, the ache, burn, relentless want that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Ugh, you needed him. Like you’d die if you didn’t have him. Dean felt the same damn way — trust him — like one touch and he’d break the damn best friend code of conduct.

You’d think both of you would have more control of yourselves, considering how you were both hunters who’d faced stuff like vampires and shit. "This is gettin’ on my nerves, sweetheart," he scoffed, eyes fluttering up and down you. You were too hot for this world— and that wasn’t just the pollen talking, but his drugged up mind couldn’t stop.

"Fuck this." he slowly took off his sweat-soaked shirt, looking for signs that you’d jump him. Dean rubbed the sweat off his chest, having no damn right to look that jacked and edible right now, ugh. He can't take all of this crap, including being quarantined in this damn motel room by Sam. It’s for a reason, though.

He groaned, aching, desperate, gesturing for you to keep away so he could resist this damned pollen’s effects. "Oh, m’ gonna kill Sammy if he doesn’t find a cure for this stat." Dean covered his ears, yeah, no. He acted as if covering his ears and blocking out all noise would stop the ache for you, well, it sure didn’t.

Pacing back and forth, he took one look at you— nope, look away, you looked too hot, nope. "Yeah, I’ll kill him." He winced when he got a very R-rated image in his head— he was desperate for you, you, for some relief, mainly sex.

He felt like every second without his hands on your ass was torture— he hoped he wouldn’t go to hell.

“Oh, I’m fine.” You breathed, sarcastic, giving him a look with raised eyebrows. “Just — you know — feeling like my body’s burning alive, I’m sweatin’, my brain hurts.” Your eyes were hungrily searching his bare chest, biting your lip— no, stop, even if you felt on fire and were sweating buckets.

“You’re clearly not,” he retorted. He would’ve found it funny that you were checking him out, but the need was so overwhelming, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from throwing you onto the nearest surface.

“So… no need to be sarcastic. M’ just trying to control myself.” He muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and keeping the distance between you. “Can’t say the same for you though, sweetheart, ‘cause I can see ya gawkin’.”

“Yeah, just quit it, you look like a five star buffet. A girl can’t help herself when she’s drugged up on an aphrodisiac.” You groaned, dabbing your sweaty-ass neck with a towel, not able to help the way your eyes hungrily drank in his chest. “I’m makin’ do with the view I’ve got while my pussy’s yellin’ at me right now.”

“Christ, darlin’.” He muttered. He felt all fuzzy inside when you said that, he hated how hungry the damn pollen made him for you, for your body. Dean’s eyes darkened, taking in the way you kept looking at him, how you were yearning for him like he was with you. His fingers gripped on the chair he was sitting on, and he leaned forward— he needed to stay on the damn chair.

“And what kinda things is it tellin’ you, hm?” He asked, voice lowering, growling almost. His cock was telling him to go over there, moan in your ear as he thrusted into you, that’s what— but he had to deny himself of such luxurious pleasures. How great.

“To throw away all sense of modern feminism and let you fuck me hard on the floor.” You breathed, moaning softly at getting the words out. “Or letting you bend me over the table. Eat me out on the bed, take me from behind on said bed.” Another desperate moan.

Shit.

Dean almost groaned out loud, damn you. You were going to be the death of him. He was so damn hard right now, and he gripped even tighter on the chair, he would break it if he wasn’t careful.

“Sweet girl, I know you’re not talkin' about feminism when you got your hungry eyes all over me right damn now.” He bit out, clenching his jaw. Dean couldn’t help the fantasies that were running through his mind, especially when you let those moans out.

“I know.” You murmured, nodding, levelling the playing field and taking your shirt off too, leaning back against the bed’s headboard. Shit. Your skin that glistened with sweat, glowing more in the shitty motel light, tits now on display for his hungry-ass eyes. Your head tipped back, eyebrows pinched together tight, lips parted ever so slightly. Shit.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, eyes drinking in that perfect body of yours like a man who hadn’t had a drop of water in years. He’d seen you in a bikini before and almost lost it, but this view, this view was a sight for sore eyes. One that he was now staring at shamelessly.

His mouth hung agape as his eyes traveled from your chest to your face, he was desperate — all for you. “What’re you gettin’ at?” He asked, voice low and ragged.

“That I’m hot too. A woman can exist with her shirt off.” You scoffed, thighs rubbing together for any friction. C’mon, fuck, you got nothing— guess Dean’s cock was the answer, but not fucking your friend was the first cardinal rule of maintaining a best-friendship. “Oh, I’m gonna kill those witches even if they’re in the afterlife. I—” You let out a small whimper of frustration, the ache building. “God damn.”

“Damn right you’re hot, sweetheart.” he muttered, eyes locked to your thighs, practically drooling— maybe he wasn’t talking about the heat both of you were burning under. Dean’s tongue darted out and wet his dry lips, watching you as you rubbed your thighs against one another for friction. Damn it, it should be him being that friction, if that even made sense— he didn’t know, his brain was sludge. “I know, baby girl, m’ feelin’ what you are, I get it.”

He wanted to reach out and touch you so bad, but he had to get a grip. Sam could come back with a cure— maybe. Could he wait that long? Probably not.

You, however, simply did not have the patience nor the fucks to deal with Sam and his annoying lateness— you needed your best friend, he needed you, you had two holes he could put his dick into — you weren’t doing ass stuff on the first fuck — so it’s a win-win. “Dean, fuck this cure.” You whined, breath hitching as you yanked your sweats down, panties going with, pussy leaking and aching and so very empty. “Can’t wait, I can’t— c’mere. Fuck me, c’mere.”

Ok— yeah— yes, ma’am.

The sight had his eyes getting dark, nearly feral as he quickly stood up from his chair. The chair fell backwards and made a loud thud against the floor, but he couldn’t care less— not when you looked so damn delectable on the bed in front of him. Dean took quick steps towards you, practically ripping off the rest of his shirt.

He kneeled on the bed in front of you, practically pinning you to the bed. He couldn’t help himself. “M’ here, I’m here. Tell me what you want.” He huffed out, hips already bucking against the bed, moaning at the friction as he kissed over your bare tits and up your neck, licking up your neck, sweat on his tongue— yes, it’s disgusting, but he’d ponder on that in retrospect, right now he felt like an animal.

You guided his hand between your legs then kissed him, hotly, hungry, your lips devouring his, hand on the back of his head keeping him there. It was like a dam had broken, your breath harsh and heavy against his lips.

He grunted into the kiss, eyes slipping shut against the onslaught of your lips against his. His hand easily found its way down to you, the second you pushed him where you wanted him. God, his hand ached to be between your thighs.

“M’ here,” he breathed in between hot kisses. “M’ here, sweetheart, I gotcha.” The words were muffled, breathless, as he pushed your thighs apart, finding your wetness, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head. God, he was starved for you, as you were for him, it felt frantic, hazy, like relief that he was finally touching your skin that would go away instantly, as it wasn’t enough. Your scent had his eyes actually rolling back for a second, a pant and a whine leaving his mouth in quick succession as his free hand pushed sweaty hair out of your face, his own spiky from your hand running through it.

He ground his cock against the bed, feeling himself leaking — as were you — and these touches alone honestly had him feeling like he could embarrass himself right here, and come in his pants like a teenager before even getting the chance to fuck you properly.

You nodded against his lips, practically gone and inattentive to anything but him, leaning more of your body weight back against the headboard and pulling — yanking — him with you, panting, desperate. “Need you, baby, please.”

Oh, he needed you too, baby girl.

“Need you too, gorgeous.” he panted, letting you push him around between your legs and wiping sweat off his forehead briefly, wiping that hand on the sheets— shit, that left a pretty dark mark. He bit down on your bottom lip, groaning into the kiss. God, you looked so pretty, so needy and desperate, and you were all for him. He needed to mark you in some way, make you his in every possible way. He needed to.

“You need me inside this pretty pussy, baby?” He asked, his hand already gliding over your slickness, his eyes locked on yours. His fingers pushed inside you, a moan leaving both your mouths as he felt the lack of resistance on your cunt’s part, and how it sucked his fingers in — fuck, you were tight — and he worked your bra off so he could suck and flick his tongue against your nipples one at a time, moaning against the softness of your tits— mmh, that felt so good.

You nodded frantically, cause fuck yeah, moaning, lips still pressed to his as the pressure had you whimpering in relief. “Yes— yes, baby, d-don’t you stop, ok? God, feels so good.”

“I won’t, wasn’t plannin’ on it, baby doll.” he grumbled against your lips. He didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon, not when you felt this good around his fingers, when you sounded so damn pretty.

“Christ, I need you.” His words were nearly a whisper as he pushed down his jeans and boxers. He was so hard, so desperate for you, that he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You ready, baby?” Well, he certainly was, let’s put it that way. He’d been grinding on the bed the whole time he was on top of you.

“So ready.” You nodded, kissing him desperately, hotly again, panting, whimpering, the works. God, you felt like you were on fire, like it wouldn’t stop until you had him— it felt almost primal. Why wouldn’t you be ready, though? You weren’t a woman if you didn’t get soaked for Dean Winchester.

“M’ gonna take care of you, baby girl, I will.” He muttered against your lips, taking deep breaths. The words came out in a near growl and a grunt, he was hungry for you, starved, so he’d let you kiss him breathless, and he’d kiss you back just as fiercely as you.

He needed to give you the relief you needed, the pleasure, the release. He still rubbed at your pussy, all while he continued kissing you, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

You moaned against his lips, nails raking down his back, leg hooking over his hip— fuck the cure, fuck Sammy (though the poor guy deserves more credit), you just needed this right now, you felt like you could explode. Spontaneously combust. Lit match to gasoline. “God, don’t wait.”

“I won’t wait. Not anymore.” He grunted as he felt your nails dig into his skin, and your legs wrapped around him. He was so desperate to be inside you, and the sight of you just beneath him, the sounds coming out of your mouth, they just made him throb.

“I got you, I’m gonna take care of you baby doll, m’ gonna take care of you real good.” He panted against your neck, biting down on the skin as he slid into you, his mouth dropping open at the pure relief.

Your head fell back, a long, drawn moan leaving your mouth— you swore it felt like a cooling balm had been slapped on your bodies, or ice cold water. It just felt like a splash of pure relief, and you couldn’t stop chasing it, it felt like euphoria. “Shitfuck.”

“Oh, god,” he groaned, groaned, eyes squeezed shut. He hadn’t felt relief like this in so long, and your moans were like a damn symphony to his ears. He nearly felt like he was in heaven, that you were an angel.

“You’re so perfect — perfect.” He panted against your skin, placing kisses against your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder, as he found a pace. “Feels so good, darlin’, good girl.” It took all the effort in the world for him to not just lose himself and start pounding into you, just to say.

Good girl? You could’ve come right there. Squirted, even.

But no. Your leg hitched higher on his hip, clutching at his shoulder and at the headboard, your forehead pinched, eyes closed as you just felt it, couldn’t stop feeling, desperately letting shameless moans slip past your lips— as if you could control those.

“Yeah, that’s it — give it to me, baby.” he panted, his eyes taking in the sight of you, how you were falling apart. “Take it, take it all, just let me do all the work, yeah, good girl.” One of his hands trailed down your body, to the back of your thigh, holding it up, using it as leverage to push into you.

He wouldn’t last long, he couldn’t. Not with the sounds coming out of your mouth, the way you looked. “You’re so damn pretty when you give it up, baby.”

“Dean,” You couldn’t help but moan, over and over, paired with the occasional shameless “yes”, eventually bringing him in for a hungry, sloppy kiss, feeling the pendant on his necklace cool against your skin.

“Ah—” he groaned against your lips, his kisses almost violent, more teeth than tongue than anything else. God, his name on your pretty lips was sinful, but he wanted to hear it again and again.

His hands continued to touch you everywhere they could, not missing a curve or angle, and just taking in the pure ecstasy of it all. “You look so perfect like this — all for me.” he panted against you, the coolness of the amulet was almost refreshing against his over-heated skin, he’ll had to admit, and seeing it between your tits? God, another bonus.

Ooh, an idea. You used your leg hooked around his waist, plus some hunter training, rolling you both over, immediately gripping the shitty-ass fabric and plush of the pillow so you could begin to move up and down, hitting that angle without missing a beat. “Sh—Shit.”

Oh, oh wow, he had to take a few deep breaths. He didn’t expect you to suddenly roll the two of you over but he certainly wasn’t complaining. You looked so damn perfect on top of him, like a goddamn dream. He gripped onto your hips, helping you move, a moan leaving his lips as you kept up the pace.

“That’s it baby doll, good girl—“ he couldn’t help but babble. “Can’t keep my hands off you.” He panted, staring up at you. “Doing all the work, look at you— I ain’t gonna last, sweetheart, please tell me you’re almost there.”

“M’ almost there.” The sentence came out as a moan, seeing him in his glory, amulet on his chest, all ridges of muscle and soft skin, your other hand gripping the headboard as you moved, assisted by his hands on your hips, calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin. “P—Please, baby, a—almost there, so, so close—”

“Just— just come with me, please— please—” He panted, his hands gripping your hips so tight, he knew that he’d leave marks, but he’d deal with it later. Right at that moment, he was just lost in the feeling.

“Come on, give it to me, baby, I wanna see it, wanna feel it.” He was desperate, but a gentleman, he wanted you to reach it first. You were absolutely too gorgeous for words, and he was nearly going feral— his mouth went dry. “Good girl, good girl, good girl, c’mon — oh, c’mon—”

The coil in your stomach snapped as you came, pure, unbridled euphoria and uninhibited ecstasy, your eyes rolling back, hips stuttering and pressing into his hands as your thighs shook, but you kept on to get him there. “O-Oh, baby, c-c’mon, Dean, please— please—”

Sweet mother of god.

Your voice, your movements, your face, it all just pushed him over that final edge, and a loud moan tore out of his throat as he rode it out. “God, baby doll, god—” was all he could manage.

He didn’t even realise his eyes fluttered shut. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling, the amulet resting gently between his pectorals. “Oh god, baby girl, c’mere— come here.” He muttered, hands gripping your hips, pulling you down. He just wanted to feel you against him— wait, what? The burn wasn’t going, it just wasn’t.

“Dean.” You whined, letting out a frustrated moan. “S’wasn’t enough, I can still feel it. Still feel it, baby.” You panted, keeping yourself up. Well, of course this thing wasn’t a one-and-done. You already broke all the cardinal rules of friendship without compunction, but now you had to do it again? Wow. Great going.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He breathed, eyes opening, and looking up at you, the corners of his lips slightly turned up. He could feel it too, it was like something was missing, and he didn’t know what it was.

He pulled you down, and held you against his chest as he caught his breath. One of his hands moved to the side of your face, and he gently guided you into a soft kiss, the other hand moving down and squeezing your ass. “God, I need you so goddamn much.”

“Mhmm. Need you too.” You whined, your kisses becoming more insistent, needier— ok, don’t blame you, it seems to affect women more. “Can you— need you t’ take over, Dean.”

A small smirk appeared on his lips as you began to become more needy. “Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart.” He growled against your lips. He pushed you off of him, and rolled the two of you over, so you were now beneath him again, and his body was above yours.

“You want me to take over, huh?” He questioned, his lips moving to your neck, leaving nips and open-mouthed kisses over the skin. “You want me to take care of you?” His hips started snapping against you, a groan leaving his lips, cause oh, Jesus.

Woah, ok, you could get used to this. Especially with how you moaned, nodding desperately, leaving red marks on his shoulders and arms, his amulet touching the valley of your now bouncing tits with every thrust again, head tipping back as his cock brushed your cervix, hearing his grunts and pants in your ear mixed with your moans.

He couldn’t help the smirk that stayed on his lips as you clawed at his skin. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? You like it when I take care of you?” He questioned, his mouth against your neck, his hips snapping against you, desperate to hear the pretty sounds leaving your lips.

“Tell me how much you like it, baby girl, go on.” His words were punctuated by a sharp bite to your shoulder, the other hand gripping your hip.

“Love it, Dean, fuck.” You gasped, your eyes rolling back, the knot in your stomach coming faster this time, scratching at his hips, the hot-ass dip in his back— anything you could reach, really, you weren’t picky.

“That’s it baby girl, there you go—“ he panted, his hips thrusting against yours, just pushing you closer and closer, his mouth against your skin still, leaving open-mouthed kisses and harsh bites.

The sounds you were making were just pushing him closer and closer, he was just desperate for you, and he couldn’t control the words that blurted out of his mouth. “God, you look so damn perfect baby, so damn pretty, so much better than I ever dreamed—“ Sure, he just revealed that he’d thought about this, but he still put your legs over his shoulders, leaning forward, splitting you in half and thrusting into you.

The new angle made your mouth fall open in a perfect ‘o’, and the feeling just overwhelmed your brain, made your body go positively wild, and you could swear some drool dribbled from the corner of your mouth. “D-Dean—”

Christ, he’s never seen anything so pretty.

He groaned as he took in the sight of you, your legs over his shoulders. “You like that, huh? You like it when I—“ his words were cut off with a strangled moan, you were just so perfect, he was never going to be able to get enough.

He managed to make a few more noises, some of them resembling your name, before he just dropped his forehead to your shoulder. “Baby— baby, need to come again in you, can I?“

You made a noise that sounded like a moaned yes, and you’d never known that being split in half by a guy would ever feel this good, your hands braced on the underside of your thighs. Well, that was a confirmation.

He groaned as he felt you nod against his shoulder, words being lost on him after that. That was a yes, a good, proper yes. He didn’t even know what he was saying, all that he knew was that he needed to give you it. So he just gave it to you hard, and fast, not letting up an inch. “Good girl, good girl, you’re doing so good, taking it so well, baby doll—” all the while, he panted against your skin.

He groaned against your skin, his mouth pressed to your shoulder. Hearing that, feeling you around him, he was done for, he was gone— “Yeah, baby, oh, you’re so good, so good, feels so damn good, I’m coming baby, I’m gonna—“

He let out a strangled moan, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as he rode it out, burying his face into the crook of your neck, panting, grunting, smoothing your hair back as he spilled into you with a low moan.

You stroked his hair, helping him come down from it, feeling tired out— I mean, at least the pollen’s fucked out, right? Just… you hated witches now. You get Dean’s point— you didn’t before, but now you do.

He let out a weary groan, breathing still laboured and his skin was still flushed. When he came to and registered that you were stroking his hair, he let his head fall onto your chest, his head against your tits. Mm, like a pillow, feels s’nice.

“God, that was intense.” He whispered against your skin. “You okay, sweetheart?” He was spent, absolutely boneless and limp, and just content to lay there and bask in the aftermath of what you’d just done.

“Better than before.” You breathed, nodding, rubbing your cheek. “S’ not as sore as I thought it’d be, if I’m bein’ honest. But now I get why you hate witches.”

He let out a chuckle, which just sounds more like a quiet scoff, and he lifted his head up to look at you, a slight smirk on his lips. “Oh yeah? You get it now, huh?” His head returned to its original position after a few moments, and he nuzzled against you, an arm wrapping around your waist. “Not sore, huh? I didn’t go too hard on ya, did I?”

“No, but, uh…” You grinned cheekily. “Being carried to the bath would be much appreciated.” Oh, the little shit.

Of course.

He lifted his head to look at you, an entertained and amused look on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna be real cute, aren’t you?” He questioned, and then in a quick movement, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you against his chest.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak

special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part VI

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

playlist, part I, part II, part III, part IV, part V

Warnings: toxic!p, language, SMUT!

Wordcount: 7.3k (oops)

A/N: PALERIE IS BACK - i know you guys have been waiting to find out what happens after part 5, well guess what - you're gonna have to wait till part 7 :) i wanted to have you on the edge of your seats a lil longer, so this part will be a flashback to how paige and valerie met and how all that unfolded! don't hate me too much lmao. anyway again, you guys have shown so much love and appreciation and i'm so incredibly grateful!! ily all please enjoy and send me live reactions and feedback!!! i'm begging (@paigesbabygirl your wait is over)

-

September 2024

“Valerie, can you bring more tall glasses we’re about to run out!”

“Uh ok,” I yell over the crowd, wiping the sweat and the hairs sticking to my forehead with the back of my hand as I hurry to the back. Dread takes over me when the rack is empty, not a single glass in sight. We never should’ve hired that freshman Johnny to clean tables. I groan running back to the front, the bar lining up with rows of customers for what felt like hours now. It felt like all of Storrs had made their way to Ted’s tonight.

I was warned about the last weekend before classes start, that all the students pack into Ted’s and get shitfaced. Somehow it was still just me, Natalie and Thomas working - and this new guy called Johnny who I had a feeling was about to be fired. How were we out of glasses?

“No glasses, use pints!” I shout, the chatter of the students overwhelmingly loud.

“What?” Natalie yells and I just point to the pints towering next to her, knowing it was no use to talk in all this noise.

Natalie looks at me, her wide eyes showing slight panic, her hands mixing drinks expertly. She evidently had some years on me when it came to bartending. “Where the fuck is Johnny?”

“Not doing his job I guess,” I groan, carrying a rack of pints over to the bar. “I’ll go clean tables then, get us some more glasses.”

The red haired girl waves me off as I rush into the crowd, squeezing through and grabbing every empty glass in sight, adding them one by one to the tower I was balancing against my side, bringing them to the back to be washed. Once I return into the crowd of swarming students, I’m crushed between two groups of guys, elbowing their sides to make my way through. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back, the air felt heavy and humid, early September still as hot as July had been.

“Ah fuck!”

Suddenly I feel a splash of something seep into my tank top, the white thin fabric turning red and seethrough. 

“What the fuck!” I yell looking down, the shirt sticking to my skin as more people pushed into my back, nearly making me stumble. 

“Shit bro I’m so sorry,” A hoarse voice mumbles and I lift my eyes upwards to the tall blonde girl standing in front of me, a sheepish smile on her face as she scratches the back of her neck. “Someone pushed me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap, too overwhelmed and overworked to deal with this right now. Someone behind me trips, forcing me to stumble forward, the girl catching me and steadying me. “Whoa there,” she says.

“You good?” The blonde asks and I roll my eyes, what a stupid question to ask. 

“You just spilled a drink on me, what do you think?”

“I’m so sorry, deadass. Lemme buy you a drink please.”

“I work here, I’m working.”

“Oh, shit.”

I look down at my top, completely ruined and unwearable - if not for the red stain then for the fact that the fabric had turned completely transparent, my lavender bra completely visible.

The blonde girl in front of me blushes, eyeing the way my nipples poked through the drenched top now. Noticing me watching her, she quickly looks up to the low ceiling of the bar, pretending she wasn’t ogling over my chest.

“You can totally see through it right?” I ask frustrated and the blonde only nods, clearly trying not to grin which only annoys me more.

“I’m so sorry, hold up.”

She seems apologetic as she covers my front from the view of other people, big hands confidently guiding me into the much quieter hallway where only a few people were lining up for the bathrooms. It’s only then I look up and really study the face of the tall girl in front of me, quickly realising who it was that spilled her Shirley all over my white top.

Paige Bueckers is only hotter in person, her jaw that much more refined, long neck and broad shoulders and the way she towered over you making her seem bigger than she was. Her blue eyes are flickering everywhere but my chest as she drags me into the desolate end of the hallway. I’m sure I would’ve felt starstruck if the situation had been different, but the stress from work and the fabric smelling like grenadine and sticking to my body was only irritating me further, the blonde in front of me to blame.

Suddenly Paige starts pulling the back of her white hoodie to undress, the white t-shirt underneath rising enough to reveal the tan skin on her abdomen, her shorts low waisted enough to show the tiniest bit of a tan line. 

“What are you doing?” I ask confused as Paige pulls the hoodie over her head, fixing the shirt underneath it, silver chains dangling from her neck.

She hands the white hoodie at me, her blue eyes studying me. “What’s it look like, take it.”

I glance at the hoodie scrunched in her hands, being offered to me. The back of the hoodie is decorated with a large number 5, Paige’s last name written in big bold letters above it. 

Publicly Paige might have been loved, considered kind and grounded, but on campus people knew more. Sure, the girl was adored. But it hadn’t taken longer than staying at Storrs for a few days for the rumours to reach me, about her endless roster of girls who she never let sleep over, who she seduced into bed and then never called or texted. It had become a joke amongst the students that everyone knew - when you saw a girl wearing a shirt with Paige’s name on it, she was either fucked by her or wanted others to think so.

I shake my head at the hoodie, not wanting to be marked as one of them. I didn’t wanna be part of some sick fantasy Paige had about claiming girls.

“Nah I ain’t wearing that,” I chuckle bitterly, pushing the hoodie back, a jolt going through my body when my fingertips brush hers.

Confused, Paige’s brows furrow as she grabs the hoodie back. “Please, I really don’t mind. I feel really bad, just take it. You don’t even have to give it back.”

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not playing into some weird little fantasy and wearing a hoodie with your name and number on it.” Paige is quickly taken aback, brows only furrowing further.

“You.. I… Huh?!” She asks bewildered. 

“Please, everyone knows what those hoodies and shirts mean.”

“I got no clue what you’re talking about,” Paige chuckles, finding amusement in my defiance. “But I know you ain’t gonna work in that top for the rest of the night.”

She’s right. Why do I hate that she’s right? Thankfully the solution is right under my nose.

“I’ll take the t-shirt,” I say, my tone assertive. With a snort Paige’s brows rise as high as they can - I can’t tell whether she’s amused or shocked at my audacity. Perhaps a little bit of both.

With a chuckle she holds the hoodie over her forearm, piercing blue eyes landing on me. “Yo I don’t remember offering it.” There’s a spark in her eye, something that makes me bolder and certain that she’s enjoying this. So I play along.

“You don’t have to, I know you’ll give it to me.”

We stare at each other, both of us waiting for each other to fold. Finally Paige opens the bathroom door next to her, nodding her head for me to get in. She follows behind me, closing the door and locking us into the tight space. My back presses against the wall as she turns to me - I'll never forget the look she had on her face, the way her eyelids grow heavy and head tilts the tiniest bit upwards, making her neck that much longer. It’s in that moment, in the bright, fluorescent lights of the bathroom that I realise how blue her eyes are, how intense her gaze was. 

An involuntary blush grows on my cheeks, for a moment forgetting why we were here in the first place. Paige had seemed to forget as well, her tongue darting over her lips to wet them, the tight and enclosed space forcing us both to notice a tension. I clear my throat, my eyes snapping to the ground.

“Sooo the shirt?”

“Oh right,” Paige murmurs, finally breaking the intense stare.

I watch the way her hand grabs the back of her shirt, pulling it over her head. I feel something stir in my stomach when I notice the rings decorating her long fingers, the muscles in her shoulders flexing as her arms lifted. She’s wearing a grey sports bra underneath, and I’m surprised by how broad she looks shirtless like this, how refined but somehow soft her stomach looked. 

When I realise that I’m staring it’s already too late, Paige is grinning down at me and momentarily it makes my legs feel weak. Okay, I see what the fuss is about now.

“You good?” Paige smirks handing me her shirt and my eyes quickly flicker to the ceiling, back turning to her as I start pulling the damp top over my head. I can feel the blue eyes drilling into my skin, making me feel hot all over. Quickly I put on the white tee over my head, a whiff of deodorant and cologne making my head spin as I fix the much too large shirt. I tuck part of it into my bra, turning around and seeing the blonde pulling her hoodie back on, feeling a pang of disappointment when she hides the broad shoulders and the abs I had taken a liking to.

“Oh I’m Paige by the way,” she murmurs, pulling her head through the hoodie, hands sleeking her long hair back. 

I snort, raising my brows. “Very humble of you to assume I don’t know who you are.”

Sheepishly the blonde scratches the back of her head, shrugging. “Nah, I knew,” she smiles. “I just wanted to find out your name ma.”

The nickname brings an immediate heat to my core but I do my best to keep my cool. I doubt the blonde needed any ego boosts from me.

Trying to remain chill, I casually chuckle. “I’m Valerie.”

“Valerie,” Paige repeats. I never loved my name but hearing her say it was making me seriously reconsider. “I’ve seen you around campus, you know.”

“Oh?”

-

Valerie. The name feels smooth slipping from my lips, I wanted to say it again and again. It hadn’t been my intention to spill my Shirley all over her, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t happy about the situation it had got me in.

I must admit I had seen the brunette before, in fact I remember the very first time I saw her. It was her voice that drew me in, impossible to miss as I was walking back to the dorms with KK, Ice and Azzi. 

“HOW did you not know you need to add water to boil pasta?? What did you think boiling is?!”

There was something about the lilt in her voice, the way it echoed around campus, and the pure astonishment in her voice that got me to laugh before I had ever even met, yet alone seen her. I couldn’t help but turn my head, only to find that the owner of that beautiful voice was fittingly the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

It was her hair that caught my eye first, it wasn’t just brown but the tones of gold made it sparkle in the late August sun, her golden jewellery only adding to the twinkle. Her eyes were big, getting even wider the more shocked her voice got on the phone. The gloss on her lips and the way her shirt showed just a little bit of cleavage caused very inappropriate thoughts one should not be having about a person they didn’t know at all.

Her legs were shorter yet somehow she took such hurried steps she passed me and the girls without a single look in my direction despite my obvious ogling. It was that moment I knew I had to have her.

So it must have been God’s plan all along for me to spill that Shirley all over her shirt. Because now I had her in a bathroom, pulling her shirt off, unable to look away from her lacy lavender bralette, trying to get the way her nipples peeked through her soaked top out of my head. To my pleasant surprise, I catch her dark eyes leering at me before I pull the hoodie back on. 

“You could’ve just come talk to me, there was no need to spill that drink on me,” Valerie chuckles, the annoyance in her tone making a heat pool between my legs. I should probably bring that up with a therapist.

Lifting my hands up in defiance I scoff. “Ma I swear it was an accident.”

“Sure.”

As she looks up at me I suddenly felt a desperate need for her approval, for her praise. Usually girls were quick to fold once I turned the rizz on. Valerie didn’t seem even a little bit affected - somehow it irked me and turned me on more simultaneously. For a moment I consider just pulling out the old trusty rizz hands but before I can process Valerie’s hand is on the door handle, stepping past me into the hallway, a whiff of coconut making my heart beat faster. I was usually smoother than this.

“Well thanks for the shirt Paige Bueckers,” Valerie smiles and walks out before I can say a word, leaving me speechless in the bathroom.

-

“Did you see the way he looked at me tho? Geno’s gon’ bench me for the whole season forreal.”

KK’s voice is faint in my ears as we sit at our usual table, leaning back on my chair to get a better view of her. Valerie’s pouring drinks to a couple guys, her nose scrunching a little as she giggles. Even in the dingy bar everything about her lit the place up.

I had come here three nights in a row now, sipping my Shirleys and trying to find courage to approach her with more than “A dirty Shirley thanks.” Normally approaching a girl and getting them naked into my bed was easy, nearly boring at this point - the five girls blowing up my phone on the daily proof of that. But something about Valerie was different, challenging. While it was intriguing it was also scary.

“Earth to P boogers?” KK pokes my side, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn my head to her, raising my brows expectantly.

With a roll of her eyes, KK nods towards the bar where Valerie was alone now, humming to herself and playing with the ends of her hair. “Go talk to her.”

“Nah.”

“Bro.”

“What would I even say?”

“Rizz her up girl! Isn’t that your whole thing?”

I throw my head back and groan dramatically, throwing my arm over my eyes. She’s just a girl, if she didn’t want me the campus was full of other girls dying to fuck me. Why was I tripping over a girl like this - mind you, a girl I barely knew.

In truth I hadn’t stopped replaying every moment of that night I spilled my drink on her over and over. Thinking about the way Valerie’s top clung to her skin, the way her tits looked in that bra had made me drag my hand down my stomach, between my legs. But it was the memory of the way she stared me down that had brought me over the edge.

“Bro, you can’t come back tomorrow without talking to her, that shit is called stalking.”

KK was right. A fourth night in a row of just ogling over her would be nothing short of creepy. Finishing my drink, I finally get up and walk to the bar, butterflies growing with each step I take. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

“Hey,” Valerie says, her eyes twinkling as she looks at me and I immediately wanna go back to the table and just forget about all of this. How was I supposed to form comprehensible sentences when she looked at me like that? When her hair was pulled up messily in a clip, loose curls framing her face, white t-shirt hugging her curves. 

Before I have the chance to respond the brunette is already opening her mouth, a tiny grin on her face. “This is your third night in a row here.”

She’s noticed - no, she’s kept count. My confidence soars quickly as I look at the ground, my mouth twisting into a smile. “Oh you been counting huh?”

“Nah was just wondering if the student athlete was turning into an alcoholic,” Valerie rolls her eyes, leaning forward on her elbows against the bar, her breasts perking menacingly between her arms. I only let myself look for a second before using all my constraint to move my gaze elsewhere.

“Oh you worry about me?” My tongue slides over my lower lip, watching as she rolls her eyes once more. God I could get used to that sight. Her eyes rolling back because of me in a multitude of ways.

“Unfortunately it’s part of my job description.”

“To take care of me?”

Another eyeroll. “To not serve alcoholics.”

I chuckle softly, mirroring the brunette by leaning forward against my elbows. The faint scent of coconut makes its way into my nostrils again. “Damn, that’s a shame. They gon’ miss out on those Shirleys you make.”

Even in the dim lighting of the bar I can recognise the hint of a blush that rises to Valerie’s cheeks, her eyelids fluttering as she quickly looks away from me. The moment of silence is causing a stir in my abdomen, electricity palpable just for a moment. I got her, she’d be in my bed in no time. Maybe by tonight.

“Your shirt’s still in my dorm,” she says nonchalantly, breaking the tension of the moment by pushing herself off the bar and beginning to clear the glasses on the bar. I watch amused.

“You wanna keep it?” I grin, letting my eyes land on the curve of her ass as she bends over to pick up a beer cap off the floor. Goddamn, I better have that in my bed tonight. Rubbing my jaw I swiftly bring my eyes to look at the walls of the bar as the girl turns around, even more curls falling out of her clip now.

Valerie scoffs loudly like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “No.”

I kiss my teeth and raise my brows. “I could also come pick it up,” I grin, my blue eyes staring into the girl. “You know, after your shift ma?”

The look on Valerie’s face is priceless, a mixture of surprise and something I can’t quite recognise. Yeah I got her, she’d be between my legs in no time - those big brown eyes staring back at me as I pull on her hair, her perfect ass in the air. 

To my bemusement, instead of blushing or getting flustered Valerie’s hand flies to her mouth as she bursts into a bright laugh, her eyes squeezing shut as she does. The grin on my face quickly wipes off as I shift on my feet, my arms crossing over my chest. Seems like I might have to wait a little longer than I’d like to for this one.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Valerie shakes her head. “If it’s one thing you got Bueckers, it's audacity.”

Her indifference to my flirting irks me. At this point I usually gave up, looked for another girl - not that I had to nearly ever. I don’t think I’d worked this hard for a girl since coming to Uconn. But there was something about the brunette in front of me, something I couldn’t quite place, that made it impossible just to give up. Maybe it was time to move on to a more challenging territory. The pussy would be worth it, I knew it.

“You want a drink?” Valerie asks, finally recovered from her laughing fit. Without even thinking I shrug.

“Shirley.”

“Which way?”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I wiggle my brows. “Dirty.”

With another eyeroll the brunette gets to work. Part of me wanted to keep saying stupid things just so she’d roll her eyes at me one more time.

I watch her work for a moment, noticing the golden bracelet with a small charm dangling on it decorating her wrist as I thought of any other way to get her naked as soon as possible.

“You ever been to a game?” I ask, convincing myself that seeing me on the court would have the effect it usually had on girls.

“No, this is my first year here so,” she mumbles absentmindedly, mixing the bright red drink for me.

“You should come watch me sometime.”

A smile. Valerie’s mouth turns into a smile. I’ll take that as a win. Feeling the tiniest bit proud I smile too.

“Yeah? You any good?” The brunette asks seriously, but there’s a hint of something in her voice that tells me she’s teasing me. Just that is enough to get me going. I rarely found the chase to be this fun, but with her? I was fucked.

I shrug and bring my arm up, flexing the bicep that had grown exponentially over the summer. “Best player in the country, they say,” I grin.

Her eyes land on my flexed arm, softening for a moment before she returns to stirring the drink. “Now who’s they?”

“Just come see for yourself ma.”

As she places the drink on the bar I reach for my wallet, pulling out 30 bucks and leaving it on the counter.

“Hold on Bueckers, your change,” Valerie stops me as I’m about to head back but I shake my head at her, walking backwards.

“Keep it. Come see me play sometime.”

-

“Pick up… pick up… pick up…” I mumble under my breath, phone against my ear as the steady slow beeps keep taunting me, reminding me no one had answered to any of the tens of calls I had made. Groaning, I put the phone on the table, looking through the back door of Ted’s, over the liquor shipment sitting in the bright evening sun. It wasn’t meant to come till tomorrow, when the boys could carry all of it inside. Now it was just me, my pathetically small muscles and boxes full of liquor bottles and beers.

“Fuck,” I groan when the phone finally rings. Picking it up urgently, Natalie’s voice comes through.

“Riri you called me like five times, are you good?”

“The shipment came early,” I panic into the speaker.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Have you tried-”

“Tried calling literally everyone. No one’s picking up,” sighing I push my hair back from my face, trying not to panic. “What do I do?”

“I’m out of town too,” Natalie murmurs as I’m leaning against the doorframe, digging my brain for any solution. A moment of silence falls between me and Natalie when I finally got it. Saying bye to the girl on the line I walk to the front - the bar is empty in the early Wednesday evening. But like clockwork at 9 pm the tall blonde opens the door and comes in for the 6th night in a row - this time alone.

Of course she looks great, wearing basketball shorts and a team USA hoodie she had grown too big for, evidently a little too small on her arms and shoulders, her hair in a ponytail. Her mouth twists into a smile as she sees me, long legs quickly reaching the bar.

“Well he-”

“Paige, I need your help.”

-

Paige stares at the shipment through the door frame as I shift on my feet, hating how I had to ask for help, especially from her. I, like everyone else, found Paige incredibly attractive, exceptionally charming. But the ego on her irked me. The way she looked at me like she could read my mind, the things she said to make me blush and that grin like she knew that it was just a matter of time before I’d join the long list of girls she took to bed and left high and dry. I refused to be one of those girls - but it was hard to ignore the flutters in my stomach that arrived routinely at 9 pm when the blonde made her way through the door and to the bar each night.

“How’d they leave a lil thing like you to deal with this?” Paige chuckles, elbowing me gently.

I rub my hand over my face, smiling too. “It came a day too early.”

Paige nods for a moment and shrugs. “Well let’s get to work ma.” 

With that she pulls the hoodie off, left in black basketball shorts and a black matching sports bra. I let myself look just for a second. Eyes roaming over her broad shoulders, the muscles in her stomach, the silver chain with a cross on it. It didn’t hurt to look now and then - as long as I didn’t ogle.

One by one Paige and I carry heavy boxes full of bottles inside Ted’s, though I’m slightly distracted by the way the blonde’s back muscles flex when she picks a box up, the way her jaw flexes when it’s a little too heavy for her. A bead of sweat trickles from her neck downwards along her spine as my gaze follows it, a heat pooling between my legs as I watch her.

Out of breath and slightly sweaty, I push my hair back trying to catch my breath. Paige takes note of this, blonde hairs sticking to her forehead as she walks over to me. This September heat was no joke.

Her blue eyes roam my face as both her hands grab a hold of my hips. A jolt of electricity runs through my body, her touch igniting a fire I hadn’t felt in a while. Our gazes meet, Paige licking her lips as her hand pushes my thick brown hair off my face. I find my heart beating so hard I swear it’s trying to make its way out of my chest. For a moment I think she’s about to kiss me.

“Why won’t you go get us something to drink?” Paige murmurs, her voice deep and gravelly in a way I had never heard before. 

My cheeks slightly pink I nod towards the boxes, my voice quiet as I speak. “But what about…?”

“I got it ma,” she assures me, never breaking eye contact. It’s almost dizzying, the tension between us. Reminding myself of what I knew about Paige’s roster, I finally look away, slightly disappointed when her hands drop off my waist.

Walking to the front I find the bar still empty of customers. I grab a bottle of water, chugging it in an attempt to bring myself to my senses. Don’t be stupid Valerie, everyone knows how this could end up if I make the wrong choices here.

Filling two glasses to the brink with ice and coke, I return to the back, eyes landing on Paige and her arms that flex as she lifts up another box, making my mouth go dry. I quickly sip the coke, ignoring the way my legs had been growing weaker the more sweaty Paige got. As the last box hits the floor and all the work is done, Paige closes the door finally locking the scorching heat out and grabs the glass from my hand. We both feel the same goosebumps down our spines as our fingertips graze, forcing our eyes to meet.

“Thanks for the help,” I murmur, my voice weaker than I’d like. Paige’s chest is heaving, whether from the physical strain or the tension of the moment I don’t know. “I owe you.”

Paige shakes her head, blue piercing eyes still locked in mine. “Nah, always down to help a pretty girl out.”

I hate that I blush, but I can’t help it. I hand the blonde the glass of coke and watch the way her throat bobs as she drinks, my lips itching to kiss there. I was falling for her tricks quicker than I’d like.

“I uh, how about you don’t have to pay for your Shirleys?” I offer, voice slightly shaky,

Paige grins and places her glass on a side table, leaning against the closed backdoor. “I don’t need anything free, trust,” she grins, heavy lidded eyes looking down at me. “Besides, how will I tip you then?”

“You tip way too much,” I giggle, brushing my fingertips through my long brown locks.

Paige shrugs. “I tip just enough,” she murmurs hoarsely, licking her lips as her fingers come up to toy with the ends of my hair. I swallow hard, my panties growing damp between my thighs. The blonde breathes out heavily through her nostrils, still watching me. “Just come see a game and we’re even.”

My eyelids flutter shut when Paige’s hand carefully moves from my hair to the side of my jaw and I can’t help but nod. 

“Okay,” I murmur breathlessly, head spinning with need.

Licking her lips, Paige’s eyes land on mine. “Valerie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“O-okay.”

With all my restraint, all my plans to stay strong forgotten, I do the exact opposite of what I planned. Paige leans down and her lips crash into mine, an involuntary moan leaving my mouth. My stomach flutters as I lean into her, my hands wrapping around her neck as I get on my tiptoes to reach her better. The blonde’s hands land on my waist, pulling my body closer to her, breathing heavily through her nose. 

It’s dizzying, the way she kisses me, the way her touch feels against my skin leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I feel completely overwhelmed yet dying for more, all the patience leaving my body at once. Like reading my mind, Paige’s hands fall from my waist to my ass, gripping harshly as she groans against my lips. My core is already throbbing, the sounds coming out of the girl kissing me only making it worse.

There’s a sense of urgency when Paige backs me into the side table, sitting me on it. My legs quickly wrap around her waist as her tongue slides over my bottom lip before biting on it gently. I let out a whimper that makes the blonde grin.

“Been dying to fuck you. Will you let me?” She pants against my mouth and I have no other choice but to nod, my body aching for her.

“Please,” the plea spills from my lips as Paige sloppily kisses along my jaw, all the way to my neck. She gently nibbles, eliciting a hiss from me when she reaches the spot under my ear that was most sensitive. She sucks on it harder, her hands gripping my denim covered thighs firmly.

“How wet are you?” The blonde murmurs, her breath hot in my ear sending tingles down my spin all the way to my cunt that was dripping. 

“So wet Paige,” I whimper, feeling Paige’s hands travel up my thighs and squeeze again, other hand pulling off my white t-shirt, leaving me in a black lace bra and jeans. Paige pulls back and watches my chest, licking her lips.

“Goddamn look at those tits,” she mumbles, more to herself than me before her lips attack my chest, kissing all over, teeth grazing over my bra where my hard nipple is poking through.

The lack of contact between my legs felt excruciating, like some sort of torture. With a whine I roll my hips into Paige, pulling her closer with my legs. Her blue eyes look up at me from my chest menacingly, hand coming to toy with the button of my jeans. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Panting, I collect myself enough to speak. “Touch me, P.”

“I am touching you,” she teases, kissing along my neck again.

“You know what I mean.”

“Need to hear you say it ma.”

Frustrated, I tilt my head back, the need between my legs becoming overwhelming. Her hand was unzipping my pants now, torturing me.

“Fuck okay just touch my pussy Paige, now please,” I whine eliciting a smirk from Paige as her fingertips slip underneath my lace panties.

“You want my mouth or fingers?”

“Whatever you want just now please!”

“Oh you’re gonna regret saying that.”

With that Paige’s fingers make their way into my folds, gasping with me as she feels how wet I had grown in this past hour watching her work. With a practiced ease her fingertips press against my clit, starting to rub against it in tight circles. 

“Oh fuck,” I whine, my head tilting back. Paige’s other hand quickly covers my mouth and suddenly I’m reminded that any customer coming in could hear us from the front of the bar.

“Gotta keep quiet for me, yeah?” The blonde reminds me and I nod, my eyes meeting hers. My moans are muffled by her hand as she continues the movement of her fingers.

“Fuck, gotta take these off,” she murmurs, her voice low and hoarse as she pulls my jeans down, moaning at the sight of my black, lacy panties. “Gotta see this pussy.”

Her hands pry my legs open, fingertips digging into my thighs as she slides my panties to the side, my glistening cunt proof of how bad I needed her. 

Paige hisses, unable to look away as her fingers swirl in my folds, gathering wetness before returning to my clit, rubbing back and forth so fast I let out a loud gasp. The blonde’s free hand returns to my mouth, eyes warning me. “Quiet, remember?”

“Mhmm,” I mumble against her hand, my eyes fluttering shut as she speeds up even more, my pussy already throbbing, aching to be filled. Paige’s hand on my mouth pushes me backwards, my back hitting the cold wood of the table. 

“Attagirl.” 

-

My fingertips tease her entrance, circling around it menacingly. She looked incredible like this, even better than in all my fantasies, back arching and head thrown back, mouth covered by my big hand making her look even smaller for me. The sounds she was making were driving me insane, causing my own cunt to throb and soak all the way through my boxers.

Her hips buck, clearly not a fan of my teasing as she whines against my hand. God, I could listen to these sounds forever,

“You want my fingers?” I ask, panting just from my own need. She nods, her big brown eyes pleading, nearly making me come merely from the way she was looking at me.

“Two’s good yeah?” I ask, two of my fingers so close to dipping in. It takes all my restraint now to pound them into her when she nods. Instead I slowly push them in, my eyelids fluttering shut at how wet and warm and tight she felt around me, how I could quite literally feel her pussy throbbing around my fingers.

She gasps, her eyes rolling back at the stretch caused by me, and I can’t help myself when I lower myself onto her knee, grinding my cunt against the bones there making me groan breathily.

I start slowly pumping my fingers in and out of Valerie, unable to take my eyes away from her cunt, the way it’s swallowing me up, sucking me back in each time I try and pull away.

Hoping the brunette remembers to stay quiet, I pull my hand back from her mouth, kneading her left breast as I grind my own hips against her knee.

“More,” she whimpers, pretty eyes squeezed shut and back arching.

“Whatever you want baby,” I whisper, my own mind so drunk off her I couldn’t keep up with the composure I’d had in the beginning.

I push a third finger inside her, curling them just right to press against the spongy part inside her making her gush around my fingers. I could barely think straight, doing everything not to come all over her knee before she finished.

The sounds coming from her body are downright sinful, the wet sounds of my fingers curling inside her cunt making my legs shake. I don’t know how I’d ever get enough.

When I start pumping those three fingers in and out of her with more force, Valerie turns into a mess, her thighs trembling, body writhing on the wooden table and eyes squeezed shut, hands trying to grip onto anything they could - the table, her own breasts, even me. In a haze I offer her my free hand, letting her fingers grip my hand as I pump my fingers faster, palm hitting against her clit.

“Paige, I’m close,” she cries out, urging me on as her knee presses against my swollen clit in my boxers, forcing me to bite down on my lip hard to not moan.

“Fuck ma, so fucking sexy,” I groan, watching the way her head tilts back as her cunt tightens around my fingers.

“Yes, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“I got you Val,” I moan, rocking my hips back and forth on her knee, my juices gushing out of me as I fight my eyes from rolling back.

“Paige, shit, I’m-”

Suddenly she’s covering her own mouth with her hand, her back arching off the table as her cunt clenches around my fingers, but I don’t ease up, I keep up with my movements. The way her face is scrunching up is enough to get my own orgasm to take over me, my movements on her knee turning sloppy and desperate as I come all over her while my fingers pump in and out of her. I’m unable to look away.

A guttural groan leaves my body as Valerie’s muffled moans fill the room, waves of pleasure taking over us simultaneously. There’s something addicting about it, the way we’re both riding out our orgasms at the same time.

“Goddamn,” I sigh, eyes watering as my movements slow down, enjoying the way she’s throbbing around my fingers. Valerie’s eyes flutter open and I swear she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. We’re both panting, the moment over far too quickly to my liking. I could never be done that fast with a girl like this.

Pulling my fingers out, I kneel between the brunette’s legs, pulling the panties off her completely. Face to face with her glistening cunt I decide this is the most perfect pussy I have ever seen in my life - and there have been quite a few.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She asks me, her voice still shaky from her climax as she sits back up.

“Need to taste this pussy,” I murmur, my eyes locked onto her cunt, hands spreading it open, making my mouth water.

“Paige I have to get back to work,” she whines, looking down at me as I begin to kiss her inner thighs, pulling her legs over my shoulders. “There could be customers.”

“There aren’t,” I say matter of factly. Truthfully there was no way for me to know, but I needed to have my mouth on this pussy right fucking now.

“How do you- oh fuck.”

My eyes flutter shut at the taste of her, my tongue dipping inside her and slowly circling. I wrap my arms around her thighs, pulling her closer as I drag my tongue upwards through her folds to her red, swollen clit, lapping at it. I can already tell this isn’t gonna be a one time thing. There was no universe in which I didn’t get to have my face buried in this pussy at least once a week.

“Wait wait wait, too much-” she hisses but then I press my tongue flat against her and shake my head, making her gasp and throw her head back. I hum against her pussy, taking turns lapping her up sloppily and shaking my head against her, drinking all of her up.

“Valerie,” I moan into her cunt. I usually didn’t like saying the names of the girls I fucked during sex but something about the softness of the letters, the way the name felt in my mouth made me wanna repeat it over and over like some sort of oath, like a prayer.

“Taste so fucking good,” groaning I suck on her clit, listening to her hiss. “Could eat this pussy forever ma.”

The shake in her legs tells me I’m getting her there again, and her hands finally find my hair, making me moan as they pull on it suddenly. When my tongue precisely licks over the right side of her clit she lets out a guttural moan, my own need pooling in my boxers once more.

“Right there?” I ask, repeating the movement of my tongue, taking it as confirmation when she cries out and her back arches. Copying the movement of my tongue over and over again I keep working her, my face getting covered in her, my own spit dripping down her pussy making an even bigger mess. The thick thighs around my head are beginning to shake, pressing to the sides of my face. I pry them further open, with enough force to bruise her. The brunette doesn’t seem to mind though, her whimpers turning high pitched and desperate.

“Shit shit shit shit,” she repeats quietly, her whole body trembling.

“Gonna cum for me again?”

“Mhmm,” she mewls, nails digging into my scalp.

My fingers spread her pussy further apart, my tongue moving even faster on her clit now as her hips squirm, my lips following her.

“Paige fuck right there,” she gasps and I keep going, the strain in my jaw merely an afterthought, only thing on my mind getting the brunette in front of me to come all over my face.

“You got it baby, c’mon,” I praise against her, copying the movements from before as her grip in my hair tightens.

“I, Fuck-” she gasps and she’s coming again, pulling my face closer as she squirms all over the table, my tongue not easing up as the pleasure takes over her. I swear I feel just as euphoric, watching her like this.

When her whines turn high pitched I ease up my movements, wiping my mouth on her thigh before getting up from the floor. Valerie’s out of breath and her eyes are heavy, mascara smudged underneath her eyes and lips plump from the rough kissing. I don’t know what does it, but something I can’t control makes me lean down and kiss her. I never kiss girls after sex.

Just as I’m about to speak, the bell on the door jingles, returning both of us back to the backroom of Ted’s, the fluorescent lights suddenly harsh and overwhelmingly bright. 

“Shit,” Valerie gasps and starts getting dressed in record time. I watch her, my brain still mush from what we just did. She quickly brushes her hands through her long hair and rushes to the front, leaving me alone.

“Hi, what can I get ya?” I hear her faint voice a little too perky compared to how she normally sounded.

Wiping my lips I stare at the calendar on the wall marking everyone’s shifts, but all I see is Valerie. Blinking stupidly I wipe my mouth, my mouth twisting into a small smile. The heat in my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach made themselves known - informing me that this girl would have me utterly, completely fucked from now on.

-

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[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

It's a quiet afternoon, one spent reading your new book, mending some of your torn clothes and dozing off occasionally.

A lazy day if ever there was. You're not worried about cooking dinner tonight because you have company coming over with their own. You finish stitching up the hole in one of your thick trousers and gaze outside. It's about time now, if he arrives too late, then he'll have to walk back home in the dark. You wouldn't let him do that, it's a little ridiculous, considering he's a huge orc who knows the woods perfectly well but you'd still force him to sleep on the couch before letting him leave.

That idea makes you smile, such a massive man snuggled up on your old reliable couch. Just when you think you should step outside and look for your friend, you hear the distinct jingle of horse reins and a frightened neigh from outside.

This has you on edge immediately. The only times you've heard that is when the king's men search the perimeter between the Orc and Human territories, making sure no one is breaking the land treaties between the two. You hate these men, they claim to be here for your safety but they make you feel the polar opposite whenever they look down at you on their high horses.

You pull on your boots, take a deep breath before stepping outside, preparing yourself for the condescending look the knights always give you, along with thinly veiled sexual remarks about how it must be so hard for you, all alone out here in these scary woods.

That, however, is not what you see when you walk outside. Instead, you feel ice shoot into your veins.

Red seeps into the white snow as an orc, your orc, clutches the wound where an arrow protrudes out of his upper chest. The horse kicks and neigh's as the knight riding it reloads his crossbow.

The ice in your veins suddenly boils, you grab your bow resting near the door along with a handful of arrows and run outside. Notching an arrow, you don't even announce yourself before letting it go. It whizzes through the air and hits the knights' crossbow right out of his hands, he yelps as it falls to the ground, turning angrily towards the offender.

"Get off my land!"

The bleeding Orc looks just as shocked as the knight, who reins his horse back in an attempt to compose himself.

"My lady, I found this beast roaming near your home. I was only-"

"I'll take care of it. Leave."

You're trying to sound as sturdy as possible but it's hard when your friend is bleeding out in front of you.

"but I- "

"It's my land. He's mine. Leave."

Your voice is unwavering, only getting angrier with every syllable as your bow string grows more taught. The knight looks back at the orc, hatred burning, then he looks back at you sceptically. You're itching to let your arrow fly right between his hateful eyes. He's not wearing his helmet, it would be easy.

He's clearly more vulnerable than he's used to, with only his sword at his side, which he couldn't even unsheathe before you let your arrow fly. With a scoff, the knight pulls on his horse's reins and retreats down the snowy slope. You stand stock still, skin shivering under the thin material of your tunic. You have to hold back the urge to shoot your arrow into his back before he disappears into the woods.

Slinging your bow over your shoulder, you sprint over to your friend, who heaves heavy breaths while clutching his chest. You struggle to lift him onto his feet, he grunts at every movement and it makes you want to cry. When you eventually get him up, you both stagger towards the open front door. It's slow and arduous but you eventually get past the door frame and slam the heavy wood shut, dropping your bow to carry his heavy body to the couch.

He slumps down on the couch with a groan. You almost sob with relief when you realise the arrow is in his right side, not his left. Fool of a knight had worse aim than you thought. It doesn't look that deep but there's a lot of blood seeping out.

He's still in life or death mode as tears of pain spill over his pretty eyelashes. You try to calm his heaving breaths, placing a hand on his cheek to bring his attention to you instead of the arrow in his chest. You wipe his tears away and hush comforting words he doesn't even understand. When his breathing slows considerably and his attention is only on you, you wrench the arrow out of his chest in one quick pull.

He howls in pain, and you sob apologies at him, shuffling his overcoat off to unbutton his tunic, the way his blood clings to the material and his skin in sticky strings makes you nauseous.

You lay him down and run off to your small bathroom. You come back with a bunch of bandages, disinfecting ointment, a warm wash cloth and a numbing ointment.

There's so much blood. Your hands are covered in the mixture of blood and water as you dump the cloth in the bowl of lukewarm water. You clean his wound with the wet wash cloth before pouring on a more than generous amount of disinfecting ointment. It burns and he groans, clutching the couch pillow next to his head. This won't be fatal, if you can clean and stitch it properly.

You slather on the numbing cream with the tiny application stick and wait for it to take effect. You turn to your sewing kit on the tiny table in front of the hearth and try in vain to stop your hands from shaking while disinfecting the needle and thread. It doesn't work, you can't stop the trembling. What if you don't disinfect it enough and the wound becomes infected? What if you can't save him like he saved you? What if he dies because of you? What if-

Warmth covers your trembling hand, the heavy weight of the orcs hand grounding you. You look at the orc lying on your couch incredulously, he looks back with a tired smile, sluggishly blinking at you. How can he be so warm when he's bleeding out?

You clutch his hand and take a deep breath. The pounding of your heart is still loud but your hands are calm enough to thread the needle. You wipe the excess numbing ointment off and carefully make the first incision. This isn't completely new to you but seeing the bloody red flesh underneath his green skin makes this much harder than when you've had to stitch up yourself.

As you pull the curved needle in and out of his skin, you can tell he's trying not to grunt or flinch even though it hurts.

When you make the final incision, you both let out heavy sighs. He rests his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes, as you bandage the wound with gauze and more antibacterial ointment. You look up at his resting eyes and when you realise he hasn't moved for a while you panic and pat his cheek a bit desperately.

He grunts awake, grasping your hand and squinting at you like you just interrupted a midday nap. When he sees your teary eyes and concerned expression, he softens and huffs amusedly. You yank back your hand, anger simmering, how can he think this situation is amusing?

You hate how he's barged into your life and lit an uncomfortable fire in your chest that you can't put out. There's so much more to be confused and fearful about now with him in your life. What if the knight comes back with reinforcements? Would you have to fight to be together? What does 'together' even mean?

You let a hot tear fall to the ground and sniffle angrily. It's all so overwhelming, before him, you never needed to feel this much. His hand reaches out and you feel the warmth envelope your cheek, lifting your gaze to his. His eyes hold so much he could never translate, yet you find you understand perfectly. He wipes away an oncoming tear, only for you to let out another sob.

You clutch his hand to your cheek, your other hand holds his forearm close,

"I think I love you."

You utter into his palm, the devastating truth weighs heavy on you. You don't actually intend for him to ever know what it means but when you look up at his wide eyes and shocked face, you realise he didn't need a translation.

He leans up on the shoulder of his uninjured side and pulls you closer with the hand on your cheek. You're halfway through reprimanding him for moving too much when your words catch in your throat as he pulls you inches away from his face. He mumbles something in orcish and although you don't know what he said, you're pretty sure you know what he means.

You lightly touch your forehead to his before, rather timidly, kissing him. He kisses back with purpose, it takes a minute for you to properly ease into the intimate action, the soft warmth of his lips makes it easier than you'd ever imagined. He keeps his movements slow and gentle, you feel his tusks against your cheeks as you deepen the kiss.

When you separate for air he grins and nuzzles his forehead to yours, it's such a playful gesture, it makes you laugh rather breathlessly. You've never cried so much before meeting him, but you also never laughed as much. He places cheeky kisses on your forehead, nose and lips before you have to push his scruffy stubbled face away so you can hide your own burning hot face in your hands just to console your rapidly beating heart. He rests his head back onto the couch pillow with the same tired eyes as before, except now a dumb, self-satisfied grin adorns his face.

You ignore his amusement, climbing onto your way-too-small couch next to him. You lay your head over his heart, hearing the rhythmic beats. He holds you close and lets out a pleased grumble before his eyes flutter closed and he dozes off once more. You stay awake for some time, staring at the orc on your couch, his pretty carved tusks, his soft lips, his bare chest, his dark hair. It's sometime before you eventually doze off against his chest, lulled asleep by the up and down motion of his chest as he dreams.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

<- Previous

[earthchica]

Can't Hide Love

terry richmond x black, fem! reader

summary: you're afraid of getting hurt and denying the love you feel for Terry, so you reject him when he confesses his feelings for you, but later, you might regret that decision.

warnings: light angst, jealousy, playing mind games, use of the n-word, explicit smut (18+), dom/sub, thighjob, daddy kink, choking kink, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, friends to lovers, nicknames (shorty, lil mama, baby, baby girl), words: 2k

note:

sequel to I Want You

-

You and Terry sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, the morning sunlight streaming through the window and casting a warm glow on your plates.

As you both chewed your breakfast, an unspoken tension filled the air, making the clinking of cutlery sound almost deafening. You couldn’t help but notice how Terry's eyes held yours, their intensity unyielding.

After an eternity, you decided to break the silence, leaning forward slightly as you finally said, "Last night was real fun but it can't happen again."

Terry clenched his jaw and looked at you, confused. "Wait, what, why?" He asked, his voice earnest and searching, his eyes trying to uncover the truth.

"I mean… if you think I only want sex, then you're mistaken. I like you a lot, shorty. I've felt this way for a while now and would love to take you on a date.” He added.

His expression shifted as he processed your confession. “I like you too, Terry, but…” Your voice trailed off, thick with hesitation and unspoken feelings.

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “I just don’t think I can handle anything more than what we have; let's stay friends,” you finished, hoping to keep things uncomplicated.

Terry's disappointment was noticeable, and he tried to conceal the hurt rising in his chest. He nodded as if he understood, even though every part of him wanted to question your rejection.

“Okay!” he said with a shrug, quickly finishing his orange juice to mask his feelings. He moved to the sink to clean his plate, the sound of clinking dishes filling the silence between you.

You were taken aback by his reaction. “Okay, that’s it?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you crossed your arms, a mix of disbelief and concern surfacing within you.

Terry turned his head slightly, a blank look on his face. “What do you want to say?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in genuine curiosity. You took a breath and shook your head. "Nothing."

The two of you left at that, and a few days went by after you rejected him. You were busy preparing for your art gallery opening, feeling excited and nervous.

When the event finally kicked off, you scanned the crowd hoping Terry was coming to at least to support you. Your heart skipped a beat when he walked in with a bouquet of roses.

“Yo, look who made it!” Terry called out with a broad smile, and you felt a rush of warmth. Terry approached you and hugged you quickly before pulling away and handing you the bouquet.

“These are for you. I’m proud of you, shorty, for real. These pieces are dope.” Terry said, honestly looking around at your artwork and your heart fluttered.

“Oh, thank you, Terry. It means a lot to have you here, I thought you weren't coming after, you know,” you replied, trying to keep it cool despite the knot of mixed feelings in your chest.

"Hey...despite that, we're good!" Terry said, reassuring you and placing his hand on your shoulder. You smiled brightly, moving your eyes away.

You waved your assistant over, who wasn't too far away to take the bouquet to you before going back to Terry. “Come on, I want to show you my favorites,” you said, leading him through the gallery.

As you walked, you pointed out different pieces. “This one is inspired by the culture of New Orleans. I wanted to capture that moment of the people.”

Terry nodded, genuinely impressed. “I see you, shorty! That’s hot!” You smiled and continued to show him your work, each piece sparking a conversation-filled detailed explanation.

Finally, you stopped before a special painting that you had kept hidden. “And this one,” you said nervously, “is for you.” As Terry looked at the painting, his eyes widened.

It was a portrait of him, perfectly capturing his eyes and bright smile. “Wow, you painted me? I don't remember you asking for permission to use my likeness,” he joked, grinning widely.

“But I'll let it slide because this is really dope, girl. You really outdid yourself. You’ve got me looking good!” Terry remarked, studying the details closely.

Your heart fluttered as you replied, “Thank you. I'm glad you love it; it means a lot to me.” Terry nodded and stepped back, admiring the piece fully with a playful smirk.

“You once said you only paint intimate pieces like this when you’re in love. So, what does this mean?” he asked, looking into your eyes, searching for an answer.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from him. “Terry, this isn't the time or place.”

He stepped a little closer, a teasing grin still on his face. “Come on now, don’t act like I ain't onto something here. You gotta admit, this painting is special—just like us.”

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. “For real, Terry, drop it.”

“Why you gotta be like that? You know deep down you love me,” he said, his voice earnest but still playful. “I mean, who else you gonna paint like that? You had that canvas waiting just for me.”

You laughed softly, but it was a nervous laugh. “It’s just art, Terry. Ain’t gotta mean all that. You know I paint a lot of folks.”

Terry stepped even closer, leaning in a bit. “Nah, shorty, don’t play me. I see how you look at me when you think I ain't watching. You can't hide the love.”

You glanced over your shoulder, noting your other friends arriving. “Look, Lana and Kayla are here.” You took a step back, creating some space between you. “We can talk later, alright?”

He let out a sigh. “That's cool, and I know you’ll miss me when I move on.” As you walked away, you could feel him watching, his lingering gaze heavy on your back.

You greeted your other friends with a smile, hoping the moment with Terry would fade into the background. As the night went on, you went to look around for Terry.

Your eyes land on him as he chats with a stunning dark-skinned woman who is clearly attracted to Terry. She leans close, laughing at his joke while touching his arm.

You felt a pang of jealousy twist in your stomach. You decided to talk to him, hoping to get his attention. “Terry, can we talk for a second, please?”

Terry barely glanced your way, his attention still locked on the woman. “Yeah, just a sec!” he called, waving you off. You tilled your head, looking at him sideways.

You feel frustrated and a little petty, so you turn your gaze back to the crowd. Feeling bold, you spotted an attractive white guy across the room who seemed interested.

You walked over, flashing a charming smile, and began chatting and playfully flirting with the pretty man named Charles. You could feel Terry’s gaze, but you didn't look back.

You showed Charles some of your artwork, and you noticed Terry following you too closely, as did the woman he was walking to. You had where you just wanted.

“Hey, you wanna grab a drink after this?” Charles asked, leaning closer. You considered it, tempted to make Terry feel what you were feeling.

As you were about to answer with him, Terry finally broke away from the girl and stormed over. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his tone sharper than you expected.

“Just having fun, Terry, and meeting new people like Charles here,” you replied, crossing your arms as you shot him defiantly. “I thought you were busy talking to some girl .”

“Stop playing with me. You’re just trying to make me jealous, aren’t you?” he said, frustration evident in his voice. “I’m gonna go,” Charles replied.

You and Terry ignored him and he just walked away. “Yeah, only because you started it and completely ignored me talking to that trick?” you shot back.

Your words are laced with a bitter edge. A tense silence fell between you as the atmosphere crackled with unresolved emotions. Terry pulled you into the quiet space.

The tension between you was real, and confusion danced in his eyes. “Why you all pressed about me talkin’ to some girl?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “You turned me down, remember twice?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the heat of his body close to yours. “I know…T I messed up, okay? I’m just scared!” You said, the words tumbling before you could think.

“I didn’t want to get hurt. You know my last few relationships were rough. I thought shutting you out would help me, but it worsened everything.”

His expression softened, but he still looked conflicted. “So, you rejected me twice and then got mad when I started lookin’ elsewhere, then tried to make me jealous. Shit is childish, shorty.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I know, and I'm sorry, but I realize I want to give this a chance; I want you, Terry, and I want to go on a date if the offer is still open.”

Terry stepped closer, his fingertips grazing your dark brown skin, sending shivers down your spine. “It's cool, and hurting you is the last thing I want to do, baby If I’m feelin’ you, I’m all in, no games.”

Your heart raced at his words, the warmth of his body drawing you in. “I want to be all in, too. Show me that taking this jump is okay," You said, you could feel the pull between you.

With that, he closed the gap, capturing your lips with his. All the pent-up tension exploded as you kissed him fiercely. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the world around you fade away.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. “I'll show you, baby, but first, let’s get out of here,” Terry suggested, and without a second thought, you followed him out of the event.

-

The familiar surroundings felt comforting and charged as you returned to the apartment. Both of you didn’t make it to either of the bedrooms.

Terry leaned in and kissed you hungrily in a sudden burst of lust, his lips warm against yours, his scuffed beard tickling you slightly. He gently pressed your back against the wall.

His hands were all over your body, removing your panties as his lips didn't even separate from yours. You pulled away, helped him out of his shirt, and then pushed his pants with his boxers down.

Terry kicks them off before unzipping your dress and taking it off. He cursed, biting his lip at the sight of your exposed breasts. "Terry" You let out a moan.

You grabbed the back of his head, feeling his braids. He twirled his tongue on your nipple like it was a sucker before sucking it into his mouth.

Terry looked up at you with those pretty light eyes of his with so much desire before popping your nipple off his mouth. He kisses you, dancing his tongue against yours.

He crouches with his legs wide out and gripping your hips. He begins thrusting his throbbing dick through the gap of your thighs. "You feel that, baby? You feel how hard you make me," Terry asked.

"Yes, fuck Terry. I feel so good; keep going, please," You moaned in pleasure, feeling him thrust faster through the soaking wetness of your pussy lips.

You throw your head back, loving the feel of his large hands gripping the plump rounds of your ass. "Mmm fuck" You bite your lip, rolling your hips and trying to match his rhythm slightly.

"Fuck, I need to be inside of that pretty pussy, baby." Terry moans, grabbing your hair roughly and pulling you into a kiss. He lifts your leg to hold you on his hip, and you look at him.

You licked your fingers and rubbed your clit before letting him line himself toward your pussy. He thrusts in slowly while looking deeply into your eyes.

You kissed him and gripped his shoulder as he began fucking you against the wall. "Ahhh, fuck me fuck me, Terry, this dick is good," you moaned in pleasure.

"You like getting fucked against the wall, huh, lil mama?" Terry asked, his voice low, watching your eyes roll back in your head, leading it against the wall.

He lifts you fully, grabs both of your legs under his arms, and begins pounding harder. "Oh my goodness, yes....and....you love this pussy don't you, huh?" You asked.

Your eyes seductively, staring into his soul. "Yeah, I fucking love this pussy, lil mama. This pussy is my mine, you hear me, nobody else? You got that?"

"Yes, yes, Terry, I got it, yes." You nodded at him with a light smirk, grabbing his neck as he continued pounding like a damn beast.

"Let me hear you, baby," Terry said, leaning your back against the wall and kissing your neck. You closed your eyes with your mouth in O, trying to get the words out.

"It's yours, all yours, Terry. Oh my goodness, I'm gonna cum." You moaned, feeling tears of joy coming down your face; the pleasure was so freaking good it brought you to tears.

"Cum, baby, cum on your dick because it's all yours," Terry moaned in your ear, and that is all you needed for you to let out the cry of his name, feeling yourself almost coming on down.

Terry puts you down slightly, has a hold on you to keep you steady, pulls out, and flicks his dick against your clit; you gasp, feeling a gushing of wetness coming out of your pussy.

"Ahhhh fucking shit, muthfucka," You cried, seeing the stars and feeling your body begin to tremble. You could feel yourself slowly falling from the wall.

Terry picks you up bridal style, takes you to your bedroom, and lays you down on your stomach on your bed. He lets you catch your breath as you come down from your high.

"Look at you, got you all breathless and shit; just know i'm not done with you, lil mama," Terry said, giving your ass smack, and you whimpered, feeling him hover over you.

Terry wraps his hand around your neck, gently but firmly tilting your head back, forcing you to look up at him. His intense gaze holds yours.

He kisses you passionately and thrusts inside of you harshly, slightly muffling your moans as he pulls away and grabs your lower back to get a different edge to go deeper.

"So fucking big and so fucking deep, fuck me," You moaned, gripping the sheets of the bed so tight you thought you were going to rip with your bare hands.

Terry lifts himself up and smacks your ass while gripping it in his large hand, watching it jiggle with his every thrust. "Shit, lil mama, after this you're gonna be my girl now.

"And I'm giving you what you deserve; you know I ain't like these other niggas. I'mma take you out and treat you right, okay! I know you love me. You tried to pretend, but I see through it," Terry added.

"Yes, I'm your girl; I wanted it and can't hide love anymore. I want it, Daddy, I love you," you cried out, more tears of joy coming down your face, which made him smirk.

His hands wrap around your neck as you let out loud moans as he thrusts faster and harder with force like no other than before, and he pauses his thrusts for a second, making you whine loudly.

"Say it again, say you love me again," Terry says, pulling out and slamming back into you hard, hitting your sweet spot, still holding your neck.

"Ahhh, I love you, Terry, ahhh fuck I loved you ever since we met," you screamed, feeling yourself coming hard. Terry continued to thrust until he had reached his own mind-blowing orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I love you too, baby," Terry said, pulling you into a kiss, feeling his cum spurt into your pussy. He pulls out, watching it drop out of you.

Terry falls against you on the bed a second before flips to lay on his back, and both of you lay there catching your breath. Eventually, you both took a shower.

Terry went to get some night clothes and returned dressed in sweatpants as if you were doing your night routine. You walk out of the bathroom into your bedroom.

You chuckled to see Terry get comfortable under your covers. You walked over to the bed, got in, and snuggled into his chest. You both held each other in a sweet, soft silence.

“You really mean what you said?” you asked, just needing reassurance from him. Terry looked deep into your eyes, his expression soft and beaming.

“I did. You deserve the world, baby girl, and I wanna give you that if you just let me,” he said, being honest. You smiled and said, “I’ma let you, Terry.”

“Good! Um... you meant it when you said you really love me, right? " he asked, and you smiled back and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I really do, Terry. I meant it.”

His eyes lit up with happiness, and he leaned closer, gently kissing your lips. As the moment's warmth enveloped you, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, hoping for the best in the future.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Puppy Love | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

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Summary: He would give a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing her, but not without one last lingering gaze that hinted he would much rather spend the day wrapped up in her than without her. [Inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 4 of my Is It Casual Now? series: Masterlist

As summer break arrived, Monaco blossomed under the warm sun, and so did their situationship. Charles was back, and he practically took up residence at her place. He’d returned with a clinginess that was both amusing and endearing, like a puppy yearning for attention, which only made her smile.

Every time she prepared for work, he would wrap his arms around her waist, burying his face into her neck, groaning dramatically. “Do you really have to go?” he would whine, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “Can’t you just call in sick? I’m pretty sure they’ll survive without you for one day.”

She’d chuckle, playfully shoving him away. “Charles, I can’t just bail on work because you’re back. Besides, someone has to pay for all those late-night takeout orders.”

His eyes widened dramatically, and he pulled away slightly, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. “Excuse me? Are you saying I’m not paying for your late-night snacks? I’m literally a millionaire! I can pay for anything you want! You could just stay here with me forever!”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she moved toward the door. “Oh, really? You think I could live off your millionaire bank account while you’re out racing? What a dream that would be!”

“Absolutely! You could be my princess, and I’ll treat you like royalty!” he declared, leaning against the wall, his expression teasingly serious.

“Yeah, right,” she replied, picking up a nearby pillow and tossing it at him. “You’d probably just put me in charge of your laundry!”

He caught the pillow with ease, clutching it to his chest as he feigned heartbreak. “That’s a very important job! Someone has to make sure my clothes don’t get wrinkled!”

“Poor Charles,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “It must be so hard being a millionaire and all.”

He pouted, but she couldn’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss on his cheek “I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

His pout was so exaggerated it was almost comical, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. “But I miss you when you’re gone!” he’d argue, pulling her back toward him and pressing a quick, soft kiss to her forehead. “It feels like I just got back, and you’re already abandoning me.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re such a baby! It’s just a few hours. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He would give a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing her, but not without one last lingering gaze that hinted he would much rather spend the day wrapped up in her than without her.

One sunny afternoon, as she was tidying up the apartment, the door swung open, and Charles strode in, his excitement palpable. In his arms was a little bundle of fur that yipped playfully, its tail wagging furiously.

“What on earth is that?” she asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed, a bright grin on his face. “Meet Leo!”

She looked from Charles to the puppy and back again, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Leo? you brought home a puppy?”

Charles nodded enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Yes! I thought we could use a little one to brighten up our home. Plus, this is our new baby!”

“Our baby?” she repeated, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice. “Charles, you mean your puppy, right? What do you mean, our baby?”

“He’s our puppy!” Charles replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Leo needs a mom, and besides, he can keep you company whenever I’m out racing and you refuse to come with me!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You think just because you call him our baby, that makes him ours?”

Charles shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I mean, why not? It’s perfect!”

“Wait a minute,” she said, looking from the puppy to Charles and back again, a playful frown forming on her face. “This is still your puppy, not ours. And I’m not sure I can be a good puppy mom! I can barely keep my plants alive!”

He leaned closer, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come on! Just think about it. You can take care of him, and we can be a family! Plus, he needs someone to love him while I’m away.”

She rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, kneeling beside her as Leo bounced around her feet, his little tail wagging furiously. “Look how much he loves you already!”

Leo dashed between them, barking excitedly, and she found herself reaching down to pet the exuberant little pup. “Okay, okay,” she relented, grinning as Leo nuzzled into her hand. “But you have to take care of him, too. I can’t do this all on my own while you’re off being a superstar.”

“Deal!” Charles agreed, his face lighting up. “I’ll take him on all my runs. We’ll be the ultimate team!”

The next few days were a whirlwind of puppy chaos and laughter. Leo was a whirlwind of energy, darting around the apartment, chasing after toys, and testing the limits of their patience. She and Charles found themselves falling into an easy routine, their lives seamlessly intertwining with the new addition.

One afternoon, while they lounged on the floor, Leo bouncing between them with a toy in his mouth, Charles looked at the pup with a furrowed brow, then back at her. “You know, Leo really seems to like you more than me,” he sulked, his tone mock-serious.

She giggled, scooping Leo into her arms, the little guy licking her face enthusiastically. “Of course he likes me more! I’m his mom!”

“Wow, okay, don’t rub it in!” he huffed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the one who brought him home!”

“Doesn’t matter! Obviously, our kid likes his mom more,” she teased, watching as a dreamy look spread across his face, his expression softening.

Suddenly, without warning, he lunged at her, tackling her gently to the carpet. Leo jumped along, barking excitedly as they tumbled into a heap, laughter filling the room. Charles captured her in his arms, pinning her down with a grin that lit up his face. “You can’t just steal my puppy’s affection like that!”

“Maybe I can,” she challenged, her breathless laughter echoing in the room as Leo bounced around them, eager to join in the fun.

“Fine,” he said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “If Leo loves you so much, then I guess I have to remind you who’s the real winner here.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a warm, soft kiss, the world around them fading away. Leo, ever the enthusiastic participant, dove in to lick Charles’s cheek, causing him to pull back with a laugh.

“Okay, okay, I guess we have to share the love,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “But I’m still the favorite, right?”

“Sure, Mr. Favorite,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she scratched Leo behind the ears. “For now, you can keep that title—just don’t get too comfortable.”

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll take it, especially if it means I get to keep having moments like this.”

A few days passed and they were lounging on Charles' couch, with Leo curled up between them and a half-empty bowl of popcorn resting on her lap. It was one of those blissfully calm evenings, where they’d both surrendered to laziness and were content just to be together. She didn’t expect any surprises, which was probably why his next words caught her entirely off-guard.

“So,” Charles started, his voice all too casual as he ran a hand through Leo’s fur, “my mom invited you to dinner.”

She nearly choked on her sip of tea, coughing as she set the cup down and looked at him, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, what?”

Charles’s lips curved into a sheepish smile, his cheeks a bit pink. “My mom invited you to dinner,” he repeated, a little slower, and with that too-innocent tone he used when he was trying to soften the impact of something.

“Why…?” she finally managed, still blinking in surprise. “I mean, why would she invite me? Does she even know about me?”

“Kind of,” Charles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away, looking a little too guilty. “I might’ve mentioned our… friendship a couple of times.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You talked to your mom about us?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, shifting uncomfortably but keeping his gaze steady now. “She likes hearing about what’s going on in my life. And…Arthur may have told her about you too, after the Grand Prix.”

“Arthur?” She laughed, surprised. “So you’ve got your whole family talking about me?”

Charles laughed too, though he looked a little bashful. “Not my whole family,” he teased. “But, well, Arthur thought you were great, and he might’ve said some things.”

“Some things?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know…” he trailed off, scratching Leo’s ears, clearly trying to downplay it. “Just that I’d been spending a lot of time with you, and how I kept talking about you, apparently.” He coughed, a little red creeping into his cheeks. “And…there was that video that went viral. The one of us celebrating after the race, remember?”

Ah, yes—the clip that had circulated all over social media, where they’d been caught hugging and him kissing her face right after the race. She’d nearly forgotten how the internet had blown up with speculation after that.

Her mouth dropped open as she took it all in. “So your whole family knows about us because you keep talking about me?”

Charles shrugged, looking both a little shy and quite pleased with himself. “Maybe,” he said, drawing out the word in a way that made it clear he didn’t mind one bit. “Besides, you know how my family is. Lorenzo’s been complaining that Arthur got to meet you first, so now he has to meet you too, or it’s unfair, apparently. It’s a whole thing.”

She tried to process that, feeling a strange mix of nerves and amusement. “And your mom… what did you tell her exactly?”

Charles smirked, enjoying her reaction. “Just that you’re a really good friend I’ve been spending a lot of time with, and that you take great care of Leo. My mom just decided she needed to meet this ‘friend’ for herself.”

“Oh, right,” she said, shaking her head, still processing the surprise. “So your mom saw that video, heard about me from Arthur, and then decided she just had to meet me?”

Charles shrugged, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “Can you blame her? You’re pretty interesting.”

She rolled her eyes, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. “That still doesn’t explain why she’d want me to come to dinner. Meeting your mother is…kind of a big deal, Charles. And weren’t we just…casual?”

“Of course we’re casual,” he said, though his tone was light, and he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “You’ll just be going as my friend, that’s all. Meeting your friend’s mom is normal, right?”

She hesitated, glancing down at her hands, which suddenly felt fidgety. There it was again—that odd feeling she kept trying to push down, the tug of wanting this to be more, even though they’d never really talked about it. “I mean…I guess,” she murmured. “It just feels like…a lot.”

Charles tilted his head, his expression softening as he watched her, clearly sensing her hesitation. “Hey,” he said, reaching over to nudge her shoulder gently. “It’s just dinner. And besides, you’ll have me there the whole time. My family’s just curious about you, that’s all.”

“Curious?” She laughed, some of her tension easing away. “What, Lorenzo needs to check off a list that says ‘Meet Charles’ friend’ or something?”

He smirked. “Pretty much. Lorenzo’s been giving me a hard time because Arthur met you first. He’s jealous, you know?”

“Oh, so now I’m some prize to be won?” she teased, folding her arms.

“Well,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping flirtatiously, “if that’s how you want to think of it, I don’t mind.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “Alright, and what does the prize-winner wear to this dinner? Since I’m meeting your mother, I guess I need to impress her?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed, his gaze dropping to her with a twinkle. “Remember that black dress? You know, the one that drives me absolutely crazy?”

“Of course that would be the one you suggest,” she said with a grin, pretending to roll her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the little thrill she felt at his reaction.

He chuckled, inching closer. “I just have good taste, that’s all.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, but her thoughts were anything but calm. Meeting his family felt…big. Like they were something more than casual. Her heart started racing as she thought of it, yet she reminded herself that he’d only said she was a friend. They’d never put a label on this, so she had no right to expect anything.

“Alright,” she finally said, exhaling a breath. “I’ll go.”

Charles broke into a smile, squeezing her hand excitedly. “Perfect! You’ll love them. And they’ll love you, too. Maman picked the restaurant with the best Tiramisu so you’ll enjoy it a lot!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, feeling both excited and a bit nervous. As he pulled his phone out to call his mom, she leaned back, letting her thoughts wander. Their relationship was a weird blur between casual and something…more. She didn’t know if meeting his family would change anything, but she also couldn’t shake the feeling that her heart was more involved than she’d let herself admit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[mlyscha]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𝒮leep 𝓸ver 𝗺𝗼vies.

★ ( 언하이픈 OT7 ) ── 𝓡EACTION: when you sleep in the middle of a movie night. genre. fluff, kind of domestic. 𝒻ℯ𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗿𝖾𝖺𝒹𝖾𝗋! warnings. not proofread, english is not my 1st language. 𝓌𝒸. 1,OOO ♡ 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱! ( 𝐦𝖺𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍. )

𝒜!NOTE. i am back from the deathㅠㅠ i’m so sorry for disappearing you guys… oh boy this was A WEEK i might say. um, first of all! thank you guys for 200+ followers i promise this on comeback i will prepare something special! anyway, enjoy what i have written for you and tell me what you guys think about this new layout i am currently exploring ><

𝒽eeseung ( 희승 )

hearing your giggles or gasps during a movie night is something heeseung got used to, so, whenever he senses something feels a little bit off, he looks to his side checking on you ― knowing you well enough to tell that you were asleep. at first heeseung sighs because he made sure to ask you if you were sleepy before the movie started. however, in a caring way, he will make sure to take that snickers bar away from your grip, put it to the side, place a small kiss on your cheek, look at you for a minute, smile and then turn the movie off. the next day you wake up with your boyfriend with his head snuggled against your neck and the sun against your face, blinding you for a second. you didn't woke you with a sore body or anything, thanks to the comfy sofa!

𝒿ongseong ( 제이 )

you and your boyfriend had this movie night tradition, in which, every weekend there was a movie to watch together while cuddled up in bed. tonight couldn't be more different, and that applies to you being fast asleep against jongseong's chest; with not even half of the movie watched. your boyfriend knew how much you had worked throughout the week, hearing all of your struggles and complains, so, with that being said, he didn't and don't mind when it happens. he simply, carefully covers you better with the blanket, places a kiss on your forehead and caresses your hair until the movie ends and also ends being fast asleep. and the next day when you wake up with the smell of his cooking/baking, you wondered what have you done to be this lucky.

𝒿aeyun ( 제이크 )

while snuggling yourself under the blankets with your boyfriend, you complained that you felt tired and that you would probably get caught sleeping. hearing that, jaeyun simply shrugged, entertained by the movie's intro. meanwhile, after you laid your head against his chest you knew you were done. after a few minutes, jaeyun heard small snores and thought it was layla. however, when he realised layla was asleep on his little bed instead of on his feet, he looked over at you; realising it was actually you. watching you sleep in such a vulnerable state made his heart melt, murmuring in a small voice: "how can she look this cute...?"; then he proceeds to kiss your cheek and watches your nose scrunching with a grin, carefully placing another on your hair hoping you didn't wake up. the next morning when you hear him commenting that he thought layla was the one snoring instead of you, you felt like dying ― but it's part of the couple life!

𝓈unghoon ( 성훈 )

you are usually the one insisting to watch a certain movie, and when sunghoon agrees you sleep; is simple as that. your boyfriend, when realises you are blinking in a slower way and that your shoulders feel relaxed, he pinches your arm, smile when sees you frowning with a hint of annoyance and says: "you're sleeping again, huh? think you can trick me now?" "i am not sleeping!" "whatever you say...". not a long time after, sunghoon heard you breathing deeply ― a sign that you were fast asleep. with that, he chuckles out of amusement and disbelief, rubbing his thumb against your cheek while admiring you. he sighs before turning the tv off and carefully picking you up, carrying you to sleep on the comfy bed recently bought and not forgetting to give you a kiss before laying by your side.

𝓈unoo ( 선우 )

one thing that you love in your relationship is how much your partner understands you and looked after you, and that is related to these movie nights. both of your faces covered with a green face mask, cuddling on bed while a romantic comedy movie plays on tv. it feels so cozy and comfortable that all of the exhaustion during your work lays on you at this exact moment, leading you to a deep sleep. sunoo couldn't ignore the silence of the room when expecting you to laugh on a comic scene. feeling your relaxed body, he immediately knew you were sleeping. without making any sound or abrupt movement, he went to grab a wet towel; coming back just to wipe the face mask off of your face, making sure you slept comfortably without worrying about the green staining anything. your boyfriend wipes his mask off as well, laying on bed by your side and sleeping while hearing the music playing while the movie credits began to show.

𝒿ungwon ( 정원 )

jungwon, even though he is a caring boyfriend, he can be playful too! so, in this case, when watching the movie with you and then realising you were slowly falling into a deep sleep, he whispers into your ear: "are you asleep?" you hum a 'no'. "are you sure?" this time you whine, opening one of your eyes. "what do you want?" "nothing." and then later, when he catches you almost asleep again, he teases: "you are almost asleep!" you wake up this time, whining. "what do you want?!" "nothing." but then, when he turned his head to tease you again, you were prepared, looking at him deep into his eyes. "i am not asleep," "mhm... your eyes says otherwise," "shut up, you are losing the movie's best part." "why are you looking at me then?" "right..." you try to keep watching the movie, but then, finally, jungwon watches you sleep without saying a word, chuckling and giggling in amusement.

𝓇iki ( 니키 )

even though riki is the most playful member, this time he would be considered one of the sweetest. and that is because while spooning (you were the big spoon this time), you began to caresses his hair while watching the first ten minutes of the movie. however, riki caught your caresses lacking, proceeding to slowly look up at you, realising you were asleep. he smiled, letting out a nasal amused chuckle, kissing your chin, then trying his best to carefully switch role with you and be the big spoon. when riki finally did, he took a deep breath, feeling your arms tighten against his waist. he murmurs how cute you looked before placing a last kiss onto the crook of your neck then sleeping while feeling your warmth; hearing the forgotten movie playing on the background.

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[willowed-wisp]

a one night stand with simon riley would look like… [ ghost ]

It started after a round of karaoke at the local pub… he couldn’t take his eyes off your ample figure; grooving around the impromptu stage with a double vodka shot in hand spilling drops and flooding your bare chest. There’s one thing for sure with Simon Riley, when he sees something he wants- he’s gonna fucking get it.

It all happened so fast- a flash of cheap disco lights and shots. Heated kisses and pained bites onto your neck as the night drew out. You hadn’t gotten a name, but the entire night you’d call out for god.

Split in half on him. Back arched and head thrown back, circlets from his nails digging in. You didn’t know what the bruises would look like in the morning. So caught up in that high you flew on. The large man reared onto his elbows, hugging you close- pulling every string attached keeping you upright.

Now you laid tits against his sturdy, built up frame. Hand stroked through your hair- crashing your face against his in a whirlwind kiss. You screamed into it as he pounded upwards into you, his hands moving round to pin your hands behind your back.

Eyes rolling back, body shuddering- you felt that spasm around his thick cock. Moaning into the quiet night air.

That next morning- you woke up not in your bed. The memories faded back into reality. Feeling his touch, looking down covered in large fingerprints. Ache between your abused pussy and the dark gaze of the lover whose bed you found yourself in.

That’s only when you realised the potter patters of a shower head- looking to your right. Light on.

Scrounging to find your clothes trying to come to terms with the aching in your lower abdomen. That may have been the best sex you’d ever had. But you couldn’t stay… you shouldn’t stay. You’d never stayed, you can’t stay after a one night…

Down the stairs, there was a whistle. You focused upwards- you had only remembered what his body felt like but looking at it then and there… you knew you were absolutely fucked. Scars and tattoos… an expressionless and unreadable face. Absolutely fucked.

Pinned to the carpeted staircase- sweet friction grating against your ass. Clinging to him. You laid there, fucked out and incoherent. “I still have no idea what your name is…” His fingers rubbed your sore folds, grinning against your shoulder.

Calculated eyes behind pale lashes, “It’s Simon. Keep a note of my last name, love.”

“What is it?”

“Riley.”

Your hand tracked across the scar on his jaw and swirled the tattoos on his arm. “Why’s it so important, Simon?” Hearing his name come from your lips was like a fucking prayer he’s actually listen to.

“‘Cause you’re goin’ to ‘ave it one day…”

And somehow you were completely fine with that.

————

masterlist

[spicyspiders]

hiiiiiiiiii what’s up

popped by to ask for the finest of smut there ever was (if requests are open). plain and simple, reader celebrates his birthday with logan, and gets the best birthday sex when they get back to his place. ta-da! ✋🏻🤚🏻 praise +, vocal ++

(I’d let that man claw my insides if you catch my drift)

😼

Hope you like it!

“If I fall,” you say as Logan leads you to his door, or at least that’s where you hope he’s leading you. 

“I wouldn’t let you fall,” Logan responds protectively as he opens the door. 

“Why am I even blindfolded? Aren’t we home?” You ask, itching to take the blindfold off. 

“You can’t see your next gift until it’s ready,” Logan says, pushing you with his hands on your shoulders, “go take a shower while I finish setting it up,” he says, flicking the bathroom light on. 

“Yes, sir,” you respond, saluting the man, keeping your hand to your forehead even as he rolls his eyes and leaves the bathroom. 

You couldn’t even think of what Logan had planned next. The gifts started this morning when Logan woke you up with breakfast in bed, and it has been going steady since then. The latest one was a nice dinner at a restaurant you didn’t even know was in the area, which was so good you didn’t even have any leftovers. 

“Hey,” Logan said, pulling back the shower curtain, “put this on when you get out,” he said, flashing a fluffy looking robe into your vision before you heard the sound of it flopping onto the counter. 

“Why?” You ask, rolling your eyes as Logan’s eyes roam your wet body, “Logan,” you hiss, snapping your fingers in his face. 

“You’ll see,” Logan said with a smirk, looking you over one last time before leaving. 

You towel off quickly, anticipation fueling your movements. Once the robe is on, you take the time to brush your teeth, using the time to think over once again what Logan could have planned on the other side of the door. 

“Am I supposed to close my eyes?” You ask after opening the door. 

“No,” Logan said with a laugh from the living room, “now get in here.”

What greets you in Logan’s living room is a massage table, surrounded by a candle on every surface. It was a romantic sight, albeit a flammable looking one. 

“No rose petals?” You ask as you step up to Logan, who leans against the table, arms crossed over his chest. 

“You didn’t see the bedroom on the way here?” Logan asks with a smirk. He grabs your chin when you try to crane your neck so he can press his lips to yours in a soft kiss. “Take it off and lay down,” he commands softly before his lips are pressed to yours again. 

You shiver when the air hits your skin. It almost annoys you as you pull off the robe you had just put on, the way Logan’s eyes watch as your body is unraveled makes it all worth it. 

“On my stomach?” You ask.

Logan responds wordlessly with a nod, his eyes dark. 

The towel laid out on the table is just as soft as the robe, making you shiver when your soft cock comes into contact with it. You rest your head in the face cradle and wait, full of anticipation.

You hear the sound of a cap clicking open and then moments later, his hands are on you, slick with oil. His hands start near your upper back, strong fingers digging into your shoulders. You bite your lip, trying to conceal the sounds that want to come out, but when he reaches a knot at the base of your neck, you can’t help the moan that comes forth. 

“Let it out, baby,” Logan murmurs, his fingers still working through the knot. 

Your cock twitches hearing the pet name as your mouth falls open around a groan as Logan’s hands go lower. 

“Good boy,” he whispers as he presses the entirety of his hands on your upper back, “have you had a good day so far?”

“So far?” You ask, “is there more?” You ask, shifting your hips as your cock throbs from the pleasure Logan’s hands bring. 

Logan chuckles darkly, “of course there’s gonna be more,” he says as his hands move lower. He uses a broad palm to spread your ass cheeks to drizzle oil directly onto your hole. 

You jump at the sudden contact, moaning at the friction to your cock. A louder one falls from your lips when you feel a thick finger circle the edge of your hole. Logan’s finger pushes in slowly, through the tight muscle of your hole until it’s all the way inside. 

“Wish you could see how well you take me,” Logan says, his voice an octave lower as he fucks his finger in and out. Another finger then joins the first to stretch your hole, Logan’s fingers searching for your prostate. 

“Found it,” Logan says when you let out a loud moan. Over and over his fingers meet your prostate as you moan and groan from the stimulation. “Roll over,” Logan commands after he’s worked you up to a third thick finger.

You roll over quickly, exposing your hard, drooling cock to the air. You watch with a hammering heart as Logan pulls his clothes off and coats his cock with the oil on your skin.  

“C’mere,” he says, moving to the front of the table to grab your ankles. He pulls your body towards his and lifts one of your legs to rest on his broad shoulder. His hands to your chest, kneading the skin under his palms as he slowly pushed inside. 

You wrap your other land around his waist after Logan bottoms out with his long, thick cock. 

“Good?” Logan asks breathlessly. 

“Good,” you respond, “full,” you say, clenching down on his cock. 

Logan's head falls back as your hole flutters around his cock, warmth settling in your belly as you watch him moan. 

The table creeks once Logan starts thrusting, nearly making you nervous that it’ll fall, but the thought leaves your head when his cock meets your prostate. Logan tweaks your nipples with his slick fingers, which only adds to the pleasure coursing through your body. 

Your nipples feel hot and puffy once Logan moves on, leaving your nipples to cool under the oil, leaving them all the more sensitive. The only direction his hands have to go is down, but you still feel caught off guard when one of his hands wraps around your cock. He strokes it to the rhythm of his thrusts, making it only take a few slick pulls for you to cum. 

Your hands wrap around the sides of the table as your back arches, Logan stroking you through your orgasm. Ropes of white shoot from your cock, mixing with the oil and sweat on your chest. Your back falls onto the table with a punched-out sound, your cock softening as Logan continues to fuck your hole. 

Logan’s thrusts stutter to a halt, his moans bouncing off the walls of his living room as he falls over the edge. He runs his hands along your thighs as he comes down, his eyes moving slowly up your body, drinking the sight of you in.

Logan presses a kiss to your ankle before he puts your legs down. He leaves only to return minutes later with a wet, warm towel to clean you off. He wipes you down with gentle movements, taking extra care to not stimulate your oversensitive cock.

“Have you always had this?” You ask after Logan deems you clean and starts wiping himself off. 

“It was a rental,” Logan says, “why?” He asks with a smirk, “should I keep it for when my birthday comes around?”