#i’m not going to finish these i just wanted to figure out their faces

[forever-rogue]

Salty

AN | Hello, as you all know Joel is alive and well and there are shenanigans afoot in Jackson. Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Warnings | Language 

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You loved Joel.

Joel loved you (you hoped anyway) and Ellie.

Ellie hated you.

After just over half a year in Jackson, you had finally put two and two together. All those little things you’d thought were accidents or odd coincidences weren't that at all.

Everything came down to one Ellie Williams. And that led to you making a decision you immediately hated.

“I don’t think we… should spend time together anymore.” The lump in your throat was thick, and you focused your attention on the vegetables you were tending, refusing to look at the man. You’d rehearsed this very moment in your head about two hundred times, and still, it wasn’t going to plan. Sigh.

The man next to you was silent for a few beats, trying to decide if you were being serious. When you didn’t say anything further but he heard your sniffle, he realized this wasn’t a joke at all.

“Oh? And just how did you reach that conclusion, darlin’?”

“I just… I dunno, Joel. It just seems like the right thing to do.” You shrugged, adding the carrots you'd unearthed into the basket between the two of you. “I don’t… I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think I���m… interested.”

A heavy silence fell over you; you tried to continue working, but Joel remained dumbfounded, watching your every move.

“Okay,” he eventually said, causing you to relax slightly. “I’ll do as you ask and respect your wishes and all that. You gonna tell me what changed suddenly?”

“Nothing,” you lied. You’d thought about telling him the truth but highly doubted he’d believe you. He’d never think his baby girl would do something so downright vicious. “It’s just… what I want.”

“Alright.” He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans, capturing your attention. “I’ll leave you to it. I think you can handle it from here, right? I wouldn’t want to get the wrong idea.”

“Joel—” His name came out as a huff, but before you could get any further, he had already walked away.

You watched after him until he was out of your sight before hastily wiping at the tears rolling down your cheeks. This hurt even worse than you had anticipated. Ellie would probably leave you alone now that you weren’t pursuing her dad or trying to take him away from her.

“I guess it’s just you and me again.” You pulled a few more carrots out of the dirt and tossed them to the side. You were going to need a new hobby to occupy your mind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first time something strange had happened, you had been baking a cake for Joel's birthday. You were in the restaurant kitchen, having talked Seth into letting you use the space to keep your plans secret.

You were almost done mixing the dry ingredients when you couldn’t find the sugar.

“Where is it…” You looked through cabinets, sure you’d seen the container at some point. Without sugar, you definitely weren’t going to finish this cake.

“Looking for this?” There was a smile on Ellie’s face as she set an unlabeled bag down next to your bowl. You relaxed and nodded. “Sorry, I was using it earlier. Totally forgot to put it back.”

“No worries at all,” you said, grabbing the measuring cup and adding the sugar to your bowl. “I was starting to worry I’d imagined it.”

“Hmm.” Ellie watched you work in silence for a few minutes. “What’s this for?”

“I’m making a cake… for Joel.” Your face warmed as a flash of annoyance shot across hers. She was well aware of what you were doing, having overheard you talking to Tommy. “I figured it’d be something nice for him.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” she smiled. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“I hope so,” you agreed.

Unfortunately, fortune seemed determined to make a fool of you.

You’d stopped at Joel’s house to deliver the cake, wanting to make it casual.

“Happy birthday,” you sang, holding up the cake with an eager look. Your heart beat nervously as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

“It’s amazing,” he whispered, heart constricting at the sweet gesture. It had been a long time since someone had baked him a birthday cake. “C’mon in. We can cut right into it.”

“Oh,” you smiled shyly, finding it hard to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re always welcome here,” he said, firm but still soft. “And I insist.”

“Okay.” You followed him inside, setting the cake on the table. Joel grabbed a couple of forks, plates, and a knife. “Is Ellie here? Should we cut some for her?”

“She’s off at Dina’s,” he shook his head. “It’s just us.”

“Well here, let me.” You cut into the cake, placing large slices on each plate. You sat down across from him, pushing a plate toward him. “Happy birthday, Joel.”

“It certainly is now.” You tried not to freak out as you took a bite. Joel did the same.

As soon as you started chewing, you realized it tasted… terrible. Gritty and salty. Anything but sweet and decadent. You reluctantly swallowed and cast a forlorn look at Joel, who was clearly trying to school his expression.

“This is disgusting,” you said, horrified. “I—I must’ve added salt instead of sugar. Fuck. I should’ve paid more attention, but I thought… Ellie handed me the sugar.”

“It’s…” Joel, bless his heart, tried to make it seem better than it was.

“Terrible,” you insisted, trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry. I ruined it all.”

“It’s not… the worst thing ever.”

“Joel.”

“It’s pretty bad,” he admitted with a grimace, “but it’s the thought. Even if that’s cliché.”

“Well,” you sighed with a grimace, “maybe next time will be better.”

Joel reached across the table and placed his hand on top of yours. His touch made your stomach flip. “It’s okay, really. Thank you for this.”

“Happy birthday,” you whispered. Your face was warm, and you swore you saw a light blush on his cheeks.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you were sure that you had bad luck. Everyone has bad luck sometimes, right?

It was spring, finally warm enough not to require multiple layers. There was a barbecue going on, and Joel had asked if you wanted to go with him. He hadn’t said it was a date—but he hadn’t not.

You’d put on a sundress, feeling prettier than you had in a long time.

But as you walked to Joel’s house, something slippery on the porch made you slide off and into a lingering patch of mud.

A scream escaped your lips. You weren’t hurt—just covered in mud from head to toe. Your shoes had fallen off. Tears of frustration fell down your face, which only smeared the muck.

“Are you okay?” Joel ran outside, worried. When he saw what had happened, he had to fight a smile. He was glad you weren’t hurt—but it was a little funny. You let out a frustrated huff. He stepped off the porch and held out his hand. “Oh, darlin’.”

Just as you reached for him, he slipped and landed next to you. His surprised face made you giggle. Reaching over to wipe a spot off his cheek, you shook your head.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled. “I’d say we make a fine pair.”

“Unfortunately, I think we’ll have to clean up and change before we do anything,” you teased. Joel looked at you with nothing short of fondness. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” he said, leaning in. You leaned in too. “I’m just thinking I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

“Oh?” You were ready to finally close the gap when the front door burst open.

“Hey!” Ellie’s voice made you both jump apart. “What happened?”

“Slipped and fell,” you both said in unison.

“You should be more careful,” she said directly to you, brown eyes hard. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen.”

Then she turned and went back inside. A shiver ran down your spine.

“C’mon.” Joel got to his feet and helped you up. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Thanks,” you said softly.

Something inside your stomach twisted. Something was going on.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The third time you were sure that none of the things that had been happening were accidental.

Joel had asked you on a date—made it very clear it was a date. Even though it was just Joel, you were full of butterflies.

You settled on an outfit and went into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Everything needed to be perfect.

Until… you tried to leave the bathroom and couldn’t. You jiggled the knob, convinced it was stuck, but after a few seconds of no success, you realized you were locked in.

You exhaled sharply, trying not to panic. This wasn’t an accident—but you weren’t in real danger either.

You banged on the door. “Ellie! Let me out! Please let me out!”

No response. But you thought you heard creaking down the hall. She wasn’t coming back.

You sat on the toilet, head in your hands. This was the worst. All you had wanted was a date with Joel. You couldn’t even have that.

Eventually, you pried open the bathroom window, grateful you lived in a one-story house. You squeezed out and fell a few feet onto the hard ground with a small oof.

Brushing yourself off, you made your way to Joel’s house, ready to set things straight.

Only one light was on. He wasn’t home. Your heart sank.

You knocked loudly. “Ellie!”

After a moment, the door flew open. She stood there, surprised. You laughed bitterly. “Surprised to see me?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Cut the shit,” you snapped, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. “Why have you been doing this to me? And don’t even try to lie—I know it’s been you.”

“I…” She didn’t even bother to lie. “Stay away from Joel. He doesn’t need you. We’re fine without you.”

“Is that what this is about? Me and Joel? Why does it—”

“He doesn’t need you,” she hissed. “Stay away from my dad.”

The door slammed in your face.

You stood there, stunned.

After a few moments, you trudged home, your heart heavy, when you heard your name being called. You turned to see Joel catching up.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside you. “What happened? I waited for over an hour, then went to check if you’d gone to—”

“I was locked in my bathroom.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. Joel stared at you, waiting for a punchline. But then he saw your expression—serious.

“I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to stand you up. I was really looking forward to tonight.”

“How did you…”

“Weird accident.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, stopping and gently grabbing your wrist. You turned to face him, fighting back tears. He touched your cheek.

“Things have been a little… off lately.”

“Guess I’m just having a spot of bad luck,” you shrugged, refusing to say the real reason. As angry as you were with Ellie, you understood. Joel was her stability—and in her mind, you were a threat.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Did you still want to grab dinner?”

“Actually, I kind of just want to go home.” You hated the way hope faded from his face.

“I’ll see you around, Joel. Have a good night.”

“Good night.” He gave your hand a squeeze but watched you walk away, his heart heavy.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Two weeks passed.

You caught glimpses of Joel, but that was it. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You missed him.

One night, as you were getting ready for bed, a knock came at your door. You almost ignored it—but you knew better. No one in Jackson would let you live it down.

With a sigh, you trudged to the door, already annoyed.

“What?” you asked before even looking—only to find Joel standing there, a bemused smile on his face.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “What are you doing here?”

“I think we should talk.” You swallowed thickly. “Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah.” You stepped aside and led him into the living room. You sat across the couch from him. “What’s up?”

“Ellie told me what happened,” he said. Your shock was evident. “She explained what she did.”

“Oh.”

“She said she hated seeing me so miserable all the time,” he continued, and you realized you weren’t the only one hurting. “She said she felt some remorse.”

“I don’t… I do blame her—because she did those things. But I can understand where she’s coming from.” You shrugged. “She’s trying to protect you. You’re her family. She doesn’t want to lose you. It’s her way of showing love. I can’t fault her for that.”

“I know,” he said. “She told me everything. But it doesn’t make what she did right. You could’ve been seriously hurt. I told her that no matter what happened between us, my love for her wouldn’t change.”

“Of course not.”

“But tell me… were you really ready to never speak to me again?”

“I mean… I wouldn’t be happy about it.” Your face flushed and you couldn’t meet his eyes. “But if that was best for everyone…”

“Do you really think that would’ve been best?”

“Well… no. Now it seems trivial.” You met his honeyed gaze—reverent, gentle. “I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He scooted closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You still want me to stay away?”

“I’m kind of thinking I want you to finally kiss me.”

You didn’t know where the boldness came from, but it had been long enough.

“Is that so?”

“It is—”

Joel kissed you gently, cutting you off. It caught you off guard—but it was perfect.

“Yeah?” His hand was on your cheek, thumb stroking your skin.

“Again?” Your soft request made him chuckle. “Please?”

And he didn’t waste any time.

He kissed you again.

[wosospacegirl]

Legally binding - Part 2

Summary: Alexia Putellas didn’t plan to become anyone’s legal guardian. But a very determined 12-year-old with a forged Barça contract has other ideas — and she’s already moved in.

Warnings: Alexia doesn't know how to tuck anyone is, and Y/n is proudly offering five euros to help with groceries.

Word count: 4.6k

Part 1 here

Masterlist

..

Alexia never realised just how big her dining room was until she sat across from a twelve-year-old stranger in it.

She rarely ate here. 

Usually, dinner was something balanced and boring, grilled fish and roasted vegetables, eaten on the sofa while half-watching a sports talk show. 

But tonight, with the girl here… it felt wrong, somehow, to eat in silence in front of the TV.

So, she set two plates down on the dining table like a proper adult and tried not to feel weird about it.

Now, she just watched, fork halfway to her mouth, as the girl absolutely inhaled her food. 

She was nearly finished already, only a few broccoli left on her plate, while Alexia had barely made it through her third bite.

And she was eating everything. Even the vegetables.

“Aren’t kids supposed to hate that kind of thing?” Alexia asked.

The girl looked up, cheeks full. She looked like a squirrel. 

Alexia resisted the urge to sigh. “So…” she said instead, reaching for her orange juice, “what’s your name?”

The girl shovelled another forkful of pasta into her mouth. “Uhgmm,” she said through it.

Alexia grimaced. “Sorry?”

The girl swallowed, wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, and shrugged. 

“Not telling you..”

“I’m sorry–what?” Alexia said, completely confused.

“I’m not telling you,” the girl said again, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ll just give me back if you know.”

Alexia stared at her, genuinely baffled. “Give you back?”

“To the orphanage,” the girl said simply. “Obviously.”

Alexia’s mouth opened, then closed again. 

Because… she wasn’t wrong. 

Alexia had wanted to know her name so she could pass it to her lawyer, have someone contact the authorities, figure out how to send her back, and if she was going to have to sign other documents cancelling the guardianship.

“I already know where you came from,” Alexia said slowly. “I don’t need your name to find the orphanage, I know it’s the Santa Clara one”

The girl froze, eyes wide, the fork halfway to her mouth again. Her confidence flickered for just a second.

“You can’t give me back,” she said quickly, too quickly. “You’re my legal guardian now. You signed a document.”

Alexia shot her a look. “A document you forged. In a way, I still don’t even understand.”

The girl set her utensils down and folded her hands over the table. The way she leaned forward, her elbows planted, chin tilted, expression serious, made her look like she was about to do business. 

“Look,” she said, “I don’t want a mom. Or a dad. Okay? That’s not what this is.”

Alexia didn’t answer. She just waited.

“I want to be a footballer,” the girl continued. “Like you.”

Alexia stared.

“I don’t need you to parent me or whatever,” the girl went on, as if that part was obvious. “I just need a place to stay. And for you to get me into La Masia. You don’t even need to pay–I’ve got some money.”

She dug into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a handful of wrinkled bills, proudly laying them across the table like she was negotiating something.

Twenties, tens, even a crumpled fifty. Where she got them, Alexia didn’t want to know.

“See?” the girl said brightly. “I can cover the... monthly tuition.”

Alexia looked down at the cash, barely enough to buy shin guards, let alone support a training program, and then back at her.

“You know this wouldn’t even buy one boot, right?”

The girl tilted her head, clearly processing that. “No? Oh….well, that’s okay, I’ll get a job!”

Alexia nearly choked. “You’re not getting a job. You’re a kid.”

“But I can cook! Well, not really. But I can wash dishes!”

“That’s not—” Alexia ran a hand down her face. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just… move in with someone and say you’re gonna get a job in exchange for becoming a professional footballer.”

“Why not?” the girl asked earnestly. “I’ve got a plan. All you have to do is not ruin it.”

Alexia stared at her.

This kid had broken into her house, eaten her dinner, forged a legal document, and now had the audacity to ask her not to ruin her plan.

She took a deep breath, leaned back in her chair, and looked at the girl, who still didn’t have a name. Who looked up at her like this was all normal. 

She forced her own adoption, and she thought it was completely casual.

It should’ve been infuriating.

But instead, Alexia just felt… tired. She had a long day.

She had woken up that morning thinking her biggest worry was the upcoming game. Tactics. Opponent formations.

Now, she was sitting at her dining table. An unfamiliar setting in itself, thinking about how the kid sitting across from her wouldn’tt have clothes for the winter.

Alexia leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes drifting down to the empty plate across from her.

“Do you want more?” she asked, her voice calm.

The kid, who up until now had spoken with nothing but confidence, seemed to wilt a little. 

Her shoulders hunched in just the smallest way, and she looked down at her lap like the question embarrassed her.

“No, thank you,” she said, quiet and polite in a way that felt… off.

Alexia frowned. The plate had been licked clean–well, not literally, but close. 

The kid had eaten her food like someone who didn’t know when her next meal was coming. And now, she was suddenly… demure? 

Yeah. No way was she actually full.

Without saying anything, Alexia reached across the table and took the plate. 

The girl flinched–just a little, a small tightening of the jaw–but said nothing. Alexia turned toward the kitchen, refilled the plate with more pasta, and scooped on an extra spoonful of broccoli, since this one apparently liked it a lot.

Then she returned.

Alexia placed it in front of the girl.

The kid stared. Then blinked. 

Then looked up at her with eyes too big, too round, too unsure.

“Are you sure?” she asked, voice tentative.

“Sí,” Alexia said, nodding once.

There was a beat of silence. The girl’s fingers crept toward the tablecloth, rubbing the edge between her thumb and index finger. Her brows knit together.

“Won’t it, like…” she hesitated, glancing at the plate again. “Won’t there be like… a shortage of food or something?”

Alexia’s stomach dropped.

“No,” she said gently. “There’s plenty in the pantry. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But your freezer looked empty.”

Alexia flushed. “I haven’t done the groceries yet,” she admitted.

“Oh.” The girl nodded again, like that made sense. 

And then she reached into the pocket of her hoodie. Fingers fumbling a little, she pulled out more crumpled bills.

She took a single five-euro note, smoothed it against her palm, and then, with all the dignity in the world, slid it across the table with one finger.

“To help pay for the food,” she said.

Alexia stared at the note.

 The table felt too big again. 

The kid too small.

  And suddenly, the game or dinner was the least of her worries.

..

When dinner was done, every last bit of pasta and broccoli scraped off the plates, the kid jumped up with unexpected energy.

“I’ll do the dishes!” she declared, already reaching for the sink.

Alexia frowned, rising to her feet. “You don’t have to.--”

“I like touching water,” the girl interrupted, dead serious, like it was a totally normal reason.

Alexia blinked. “Okay then.”

So while the girl stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, Alexia hovered nearby. She dried the plates and set them on the rack, letting the girl have her moment.

She looked comically small next to the counter. The sponge was almost too big for her hand, and she kept having to stretch to reach the faucet.

Alexia cleared her throat, trying to make conversation. “You’re twelve, right?”

“Yes!” the girl said proudly, chin lifted. “Almost thirteen.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes! My birthday is like… in eight months.”

Alexia paused. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely close.”

The girl nodded seriously, as if that settled it. She returned to scrubbing a fork, very concentrated.

Alexia opened her mouth, trying to think of something–anything–she could ask the girl. 

But no question would be enough. None of them could really help her make sense of what had happened two hours ago.

That morning, she was just Alexia Putellas. Barcelona’s captain. Leaving the house with her kit bag slung over her shoulder and her mind focused on training drills.

By the evening? She was… Guardian Alexia Putellas, apparently. Cooking dinner for a twelve-year-old girl who might, technically, be her legal responsibility.

This was insane. Completely insane.

And yet, the girl didn’t look insane. She looked… harmless. Small. 

Too small and far too thin for a twelve-year-old. But also too clever for her own good, too quick with her words, too sharp-eyed. 

And Alexia still didn’t even know her name.

They had begged her to upgrade the security for years, but she had always brushed them off.

She shivered, recalling how the girl had just… barged in. Walked straight into her living room.

Maybe it was time to finally take her mother and Alba’s advice: alarms on the windows, a digital lock on the door. Something that needed a code to open. 

Now? Knowing a pre-teen had managed to scale her building and just walk inside?

Yeah. That needed to change.

Her thoughts spiralled further, carried by a chill that ran down her spine.

What would have happened if the girl had chosen a different house? 

What if she had climbed into the wrong apartment? Found someone who wasn’t kind, who wasn’t safe? Someone with bad intentions?

Alexia’s stomach twisted.

It was obvious no one was looking out for this kid. 

The way she had spoken, so confident, utterly convinced of the legality of her claim, told Alexia that this wasn’t just a prank. 

Something real had happened. Something official enough for the girl to believe it.

And if the orphanage had really let her leave like that…

She rubbed a hand down her face, exhaling slowly. Tomorrow, she was going to call Pedro. Her lawyer would know what to do—he would get the facts straight. 

He could find out who this girl was, where she came from, and what kind of orphanage allowed a child to walk around Barcelona with nothing but a backpack and a forged contract claiming a new parent.

Because right now, Alexia wasn’t even sure what kind of situation she’d gotten herself into.

But one thing was clear: this girl had nowhere else to go.

..

"Okay, everything is done here," Alexia said, sliding the last plate into the cupboard.

The kid, however, wasn’t done. She was hunched over the sink with that same determined energy, scrubbing the basin like it owed her something. 

Her fingers moved fast, precise, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“I don’t think it looks clean enough,” the girl muttered to herself, scrubbing harder. “I like cleaning. It’s like...you just fixed something, even if it’s small.”

Alexia tilted her head, trying to spot whatever the girl was obsessing over. From where she stood, the kitchen practically sparkled. 

Not a speck of food, not a smear of sauce. It looked better than it had in weeks.

“Hm… no, it’s good–come on,” Alexia said, reaching for the sponge.

The girl rolled her eyes in response.

Oh. So this was what her mother had felt all those years, when she and Alba would roll their eyes over homework or chores. 

It was infuriating.

“It’s clearly not clean. Don’t you see this?” The kid jabbed at the sink with her sponge, pointing at what Alexia could only describe as a small speck of tomato sauce, dried and clinging stubbornly to the kitchen.

Alexia squinted. “It’s just tomato sauce…It’s been there for two weeks.”

“Exactly.”

The girl nodded, satisfied with her mission. She hummed as she scrubbed, making up a ridiculous song under her breath: “Sauce, sauce, go away, come back never again.”

“This is the last thing you’re cleaning,” Alexia declared, watching the wall clock.

Ten p.m. already. It was late for a kid. It was late for her, and she hadn’t even changed out of her training clothes yet. “After this, you’re not touching another sponge again.”

Alexia blinked. The kid was weird.

When she tried sneaking over to the counter to keep cleaning, Alexia snatched the sponge from her hand.

“Hey!” the kid protested.

“I told you, no more cleaning.” Alexia pointed dramatically toward the living room. “Out. Let’s get you sorted.”

The girl huffed but obeyed, shoulders slouched like she was being exiled from her kingdom.

As they walked into the living room, Alexia tried to figure out what exactly “sorting her out” meant. 

Maybe… just continuing her own routine and bringing the kid along? That seemed like a reasonable plan.

The girl paused in front of the television, standing still like she had stumbled across a secret relic. Her eyes locked on the blank black screen, her expression puzzled.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do–” Alexia began, adopting her classic on-pitch captain voice, ready to lay down a game plan. “We’re going to take a bath, then go to bed, and tomorrow we’ll–”

“What is this?” the girl asked, cutting her off completely. She pointed at the television.

Alexia blinked. “What?”

“This. What is this?”

“It’s a television.”

The girl looked at her like she’d just spoken another language. “What is a television?”

Alexia stared. “A TV. You know… televisión?”

Still no reaction. The girl tilted her head.

“It shows things,” Alexia tried again, gesturing vaguely. “Movies, cartoons, serious stuff like the news… and football games. The best kind of content.”

The kid squinted at the screen, unmoved. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

Alexia let out a stunned little breath. “You… you are Spanish, right?”

“Sí,” the girl replied easily. “I just never… I don’t know what that is.”

Alexia swallowed. “Okay. I’ll explain it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sí. Now come, let me show you the bathroom.”

The girl picked up her backpack, cradling the adoption folder tightly against her chest.

 She followed Alexia down the hall. 

The apartment wasn’t large—just two bedrooms with en suites, a guest bathroom, a kitchen, dining area, and living room. 

Cosy enough. 

Functional. 

Alexia had been meaning to buy a proper house, but right now that felt a lifetime away.

She opened the door to the guest room and stepped aside, letting the kid walk in first.

It was a decent space. Queen-size bed, full-length mirror, desk, and a set of drawers. Only her mom or Alba ever stayed in it.

“You can leave your things there,” Alexia said, pointing toward the corner.

The girl turned, her figure suddenly looking too small for the room.

“Is this your room?” she asked.

“No,” Alexia said. “Mine’s down the hall, to the left.”

“So what is this room?”

“It’s the guest room. You’ll sleep here tonight.”

Alexia crossed the room and started fluffing the pillows, trying to make the bed look more inviting. 

She had no idea what she was doing, but it felt like the right thing. Domestic. Caring. Sort of.

The girl stared at the bed.

“I’ve never had one of those,” she said quietly.

Alexia froze. “What?”

“A bed.”

Alexia’s hands fell from the duvet. 

Her chest tightened as she turned around slowly. 

“Oh… no. Really?”

“Gotcha!” The girl grinned, dropping onto the mattress. Her legs dangled above the floor, nowhere near touching it. “You should’ve seen your face! Of course, I’ve had a bed.”

Alexia deadpanned. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

Por Dios.

“So what exactly do you have in there?” Alexia asked, nodding toward the girl’s backpack.

The girl looked at her with a vague grin, clearly proud of the mystery. 

“Oh, just some stuff,” she said, dragging the zipper open with a dramatic flair and flipping the contents onto the mattress.

A modest pile tumbled out.

Some clothing, only enough for two days. One sock–just one. A toothbrush way too old. 

A few crumpled pieces of paper with what seemed to be drawings on them, and some small photographs–clearly of the girl herself, but younger. 

Maybe five or six.

Alexia’s hand hovered over the photos for a second, curiosity tugging at her, but she stopped herself. It felt too personal.

“This is all my stuff,” the girl announced, smiling proudly. “I’ve worked really hard for them!”

Alexia didn’t answer immediately. 

She was going to enjoy this moment where the girl didn’t seem to focus on cleaning the oven, or was too scared to get sent away to ask some questions.

Alexia turned toward the en suite bathroom attached to the guest room, opening a drawer and casually pulling out a few towels. 

She added a face towel, then grabbed a spare toothbrush, some soap, and the small bottles of shampoo she kept around for guests.

“So… worked for them? What do you mean?” Alexia asked, while keeping her voice very casual, as if she didn’t really want to know.

The girl sat on the edge of the bed, legs swinging. “Yes. Work. We had to clean the orphanage to get stuff.”

Alexia paused, shampoo bottle still in her hand.

Ah.

That explained the obsession with the spotless sink.

She gave a quiet nod and resumed laying the towels neatly on the bathroom counter. 

“Oh…I see.”

The girl didn't seem bothered. In fact, she was proud. 

Not ashamed or bitter–just explaining the rules of the world she had grown up in. Alexia's chest tightened.

When she returned to the room, the girl was organising her tiny pile of belongings into the drawers like it was a personal treasure chest.

Alexia cleared her throat.

“The bathroom’s ready. I left you everything you might need, but you can tell me if something’s missing.”

The girl nodded solemnly, folding her single sock neatly.

“You good?” Alexia asked.

“Sí.”

The bathroom door clicked shut with a soft thud. It wasn’t loud–but somehow, it echoed.

Alexia stood there for a moment, her hand half-raised like she might knock on the bathroom door, but for what reason? She didn't know. 

So she let it drop and looked around.

This was her guest room.

Except… it didn’t quite like hers anymore.

Something about it had shifted, like the room itself had changed and adapted the moment that kid stepped in. 

The light even looked different now….warmer maybe, softer. Or maybe that was just in her head.

Alexia’s eyes caught on the small drawer she had opened earlier to grab a towel. 

It was closed again now, but she knew what was inside: one sock. 

Not a pair. 

Just one. 

Ridiculous. 

One sock shouldn’t change the shape of a room. But it did. She sat down on the edge of the bed–hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to anymore. 

The mattress dipped slightly beneath her weight. She stared at the floor.

Should she stay? Or leave?

Give the girl privacy? But what if she needed something? What if she didn’t know how the water heater worked? What if the pressure changed suddenly? What if she…slipped?

Alexia didn’t even know what kind of soap the kid liked. Did she have a skin condition? Allergies? Was she scared of something? Of being alone?

There was a whole person behind that door…a whole history that Alexia didn’t know about. 

Alexia let herself fall onto the bed, arms splayed out, staring at the ceiling. 

The fan rotated slowly above her, barely moving the air.

She hadn’t felt like this in her own space since… maybe ever. 

Not when her mom visited. Not when Olga stayed over for weeks during her injury. Not even when the team came over for dinners and spilt wine on her rug.

This whole situation was a mess. 

It was scary.

Alexia didn’t know how to care for someone in any way. 

Her romantic life was just sad at this point…she couldn’t remember the last time someone flirted with her without also asking for match tickets.

Her family had to remind her to call because she would get too caught up in football…and now a kid? A whole living-breathing kid?

Alexia swore up and down during her teenage years that she didn’t have any maternal bones in her body, but minutes later, when the girl showed up on the bathroom door with a pyjama that barely reached her wrists, she couldn’t help but feel something tugging inside her chest.

The shirt was too snug around her middle. The pants clung to her calves like leggings, stretched out and faded with wear. 

The fabric had once been pink, maybe. Now it was somewhere between peach and grey.

The kid didn't seem to mind how her belly and calves were showing, though, as if it was normal, how it was meant to be worn.

Still, the girl beamed.

“Oh, so… that’s your pyjama?” Alexia asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yes!” the girl chirped. “I got it on my ninth birthday!”

Alexia hesitated. Did the math. 

“Oh,” she said. “It looks a bit… tight, don’t you think?”

The girl frowned, her eyebrows pulling together like storm clouds.

“No.”

Alexia shifted her weight. “What if you change it? I can lend you one of my shirts or something–”

“No.”

“I just don’t think you’ll sleep comfortably in that,” Alexia said, gentler now, trying not to push.

“I like it. It’s mine.”

That last word hit harder than it should have. Mine.

Alexia shut her mouth. Because what was she going to say? That it didn’t fit? That the sleeves pinch? That it wasn’t warm enough?

It didn’t matter. It was hers. 

One of the few things in the world the girl could claim. And maybe that was more important than being warm or comfortable.

Alexia nodded slowly, almost apologetically. “Okay, sorry. You can keep it.”

The girl didn’t smile now.

She just moved to the bed and sat down cross-legged, fingers picking at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt.

Alexia stood up slowly, legs stiff from sitting too long on the edge of the bed. The girl watched her, still picking at the thread on her too-tight pyjamas.

Alexia hovered for a second, unsure, then stepped to the side of the bed. She reached down, took the edge of the duvet in her hands, and lifted it.

“You can get in,” she said, voice gentler than she expected.

The girl blinked at her. Like the gesture didn’t quite compute. Like she was waiting for something else.

Still, she obeyed. Slipped under the covers slowly, limbs careful and unsure, as if waiting to be told she wasn’t allowed after all. Her head landed on the pillow.

Alexia pulled the duvet up, tucked it lightly around her shoulders. Not too tight. Just enough. She didn’t know what she was doing, but it felt like the right thing.

Neither of them said anything.

She had never tucked anyone in before.

And the girl… looked like she’d never been tucked in either.

So it was a first for both of them.

Alexia hovered again, hands awkwardly at her sides, standing like she was posing for a team photo. The girl just looked at her, face soft and eyes half-lidded with sleep. 

Alexia thought about saying goodnight, or sleep well, or I’ll be just in the next room, but the words caught in her throat.

The girl’s eyes fluttered shut. Her breath evened out, slower. Softer. And then, in the smallest, sleepiest voice

“Please don’t send me back.”

Alexia didn’t answer.

She just stood there for a beat longer, then backed away slowly. Reached for the light switch. The room dimmed into a comforting dusk. 

She hesitated at the door.

Looked one last time.

Then she closed it.

Not all the way. Just enough.

..

In her own room, Alexia grabbed her phone off the charger with hands that felt too shaky for someone who regularly captained national finals.

She opened her messages, scrolled until she found Pedro, her lawyer.

Alexia: Hello, I have an emergency. Please call me

Three dots danced on screen for a while.

Then Pedro finally responded:

Pedro: What happened, Alexia? Something with the contract?

She sighed, fingers flying across the screen.

Alexia: Well, yes. A kid, she somehow got her hands on the contract, slipped a guardianship clause in there, and she came to my house, backpack and everything, saying I’m her legal guardian, she had some documents with her.

The phone started buzzing.

Alexia picked up on the first ring.

“Pedro.”

“You have a what?” he said, voice high and incredulous–nothing like the calm, measured tone she was used to hearing from him.

“I don’t know her name,” Alexia said, running a hand through her hair. “She’s one of the orphans from Santa Clara. You know, that orphanage Barcelona partnered with last month.”

Silence. Then the faint sound of frantic typing.

“Oh God,” Pedro muttered. “Hold on, let me check the system.”

Alexia waited, the only sound on the line the rapid clack of keys.

“Dios mío,” Pedro said at last. “It’s real. It’s all here. You’re listed as her full legal guardian. Signed and everything. The orphanage has already taken her off their records.”

Alexia squeezed her eyes shut. “How the hell did she manage to forge that?”

“No idea,” Pedro said, still sounding awestruck. “But it’s clean. Official. Like it went through the proper channels.”

“I’m so tired,” Alexia whispered, pressing her fingers hard into her eyes.

There was a beat of quiet.

“If you want to reverse it, we can start the paperwork,” Pedro said gently. “It’ll take a few months, but we can make a case for immediate annulment.”

Alexia didn’t answer right away. She stared up at the ceiling, letting the silence drag.

“…Yes. Please.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Okay,” Pedro said, just as softly. 

“I’ll start tomorrow morning. But until it’s processed, you’ll still be her legal guardian. That means enrolling her in school, getting her on your health plan, and making sure she’s safe and cared for. If we want the court to undo this, you have to show you were responsible in the meantime.”

“Fuck.” Alexia let out a long breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll take care of her.”

“Good,” Pedro said. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something.”

“Wait,” Alexia said quickly. “Do you have her name?”

There was a short pause, then some more typing.

“Y/N,” he said. Twelve years old. Born April second. No siblings in the system. Her mother gave her up–claimed she couldn’t afford to raise her. No ID listed for the mom.”

Alexia nodded slowly, though Pedro couldn’t see her.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Y/n.

Okay.

Alexia hung up. Put the phone down on the nightstand. 

She sat there for a while, staring at the wall. She couldn’t remember the last time she had worried about something that didn’t involve a match or a muscle strain.

Not a press conference. Not a lineup.

Just… a kid.

Maybe that was what scared her the most. Not the responsibility. Not even the legal mess. But the fact that part of her already cared. And it had nothing to do with football.

Alexia allowed her eyes to close on their one.

She dreamt of a sock, folded neatly in a drawer. And a kid with a too-small pyjama, curled under a duvet that didn’t quite belong to either of them.

..

a/n: I’m not sure where this story is going yet, so consider this an open canvas! I’m hoping we can build the plot together, and I’d love to hear any thoughts, suggestions, or ideas you have along the way! <3

Tag list: @edensbreeze @silentwolfsstuff, @goodloe-e @mccabeskcc @blaugranafairy @footy-lover264 @the-fandom-ness @wosofavfanfics

[andcars]

🍒 ✦ LIKE A MARATHON

﹙ 33 ﹚ ─────── i'll be kind for you

PREMISE " approaching the summer break, you know there's only one thing you want in mind. letting max verstappen use you as your stress toy—for you to use him too

RELATIONSHIP(S) " max verstappen/you TAGS " light submissive max verstappen, light dom max verstappen, service top max verstappen, implied marathon sex,makeup sex handjobs, cunnilingus, open ending, reader is an F1 driver WC " 2.8k

౿ MASTERLIST⠀REQUEST ME⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE

When Max wins, you’re neutral—supportive, even. When you win, suddenly it’s his mission to be bitter about it. Mostly it’s the fault of his own car, occasionally it’s because you braked too early and decided to push him off the tracks and got away with it. But after he rants to the press about it, he returns to you with no problem.

But then you and a few others have more wins than he has. That’s a problem. Max is ultimately upset about having that many losses after dominating seasons, it sours his mood with you outside of racing.

It was first in the living room while he was simracing, giving you half-hearted responses when you wanna be involved. You excused it to just be him focusing on the game, but then he does that—

Everwhere

Anytime

All the fucking time.

You confront him about it, and he looks at you from the bed. He asks, “What?”

“You’re upset, I know that. But whatever it is, I don’t think you have the right to be upset at me over it.” You cross your arms, being a little considerate and mature about this, “Unless I did something wrong. But I would like to be told what I did and not have to read your mind.”

He sighs, hand over his face. “It’s nothing.”

“Max, be a bit mature over this.”

“Oh, of course I’m the childish one. Always fucking am.” That gets him to half-throw his phone to the bed.

You try your best to figure out what has gotten him pissed. However, he spells it out for you. “You know what I was promised? A good fucking car. Not the best, but a good car. 

“And you’re over here, promoting the NV14 with these stupid videos and going on social media about how you just love the podium. Well, good for you because I’m fighting my own team.”

Amidst his rant about the shitty RB21 (and holy fuck, was it bad last year and even worse this year), you realise something. “Hold on, you’re upset at me for having a good car?”

“No!” he pauses, unsure, “yes! Fuck off, I do not know.”

“What the fuck,” you don’t even know how to respond to this, “What the actual fuck?”

He rolls his eyes and takes his phone again to put it aside, going under the covers after. “Whatever, I’m upset. I’ve been upset. We go to Hungary tomorrow and I need to get some sleep. Just turn off the lights.”

This brat thinks he can rant at you off and then shut you off just like that. He forced you to sleep in his bed. Act like nothing is wrong in this situationship.

You made sure to face away from him when you lay down, saving yourself some dignity.

Hungary happens, and he still doesn’t podium. You didn’t either, but that doesn’t seem to matter. He still doesn’t like the car, he’s still giving you the cold shoulder. Even getting a place up doesn’t cheer him.

You’re determined to fix something. He goes home, you pack your stuff and don’t even bother to call his name when you enter.

He only knows you’re here when you’re sitting half-naked in his bed after he finishes his shower.

“Jesus fuck,” he gasped out as he fell back inside the bathroom. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t really care. “I’m on a mission.”

He steps back in, and you very much notice the way his eyes look you up and down. “What mission? Break into my house and perform Female Magic Mike?”

“How do you know—okay, whatever. No, that’s not my mission.

“I need you to fuck me stupid.”

Catching him off guard while naked might not have been the best idea. You saw his cock twitch under his towel and his cheeks flushed pink while water was still dripping down from it.

He chuckles, trying to play it cool. “Aren’t you blunt? I would’ve thought you were too upset with me to be with me during the summer break.”

“I was upset at you. I also decided that I’m tired of being upset with you. So let’s have me,” your fingers dance on the sheets before you stand to face him, “in bed, face down on the sheets, and fucked for days until the week before your home race.”

You can see the exact moment that it clicks in his head. “So you want to fuck? Is that it?”

“Yes and no. It’s about me loving you,” your lips trail to his cheeks, “appreciating you,” going further down his neck, “driving a tractor and still scoring fifth,” and feeling his chuckle against his Adam's apple, “wanting to get your dick wet because you deserve to let your anger out.”

The towel is a barrier to you and Max’s very healthy relationship, letting it fall with one single pull. He stands bare naked to you while you still have your trousers on.

His hands are determined to change that, going for the buttons and the zipper before pulling it down.

“You love me?” he asks, stupidly.

“Always,” you answer, stupider.

Pulling him into a kiss, you press him against the closet door to feel his cock twitch between the two of you. You’re not so much as a shameless person, but you have to admit that you’ve been wet from the idea of spending the entire summer with Max buried in you.

You know he loves the idea, too. “All of these burdens on your shoulder—... they don’t know that all you need is is to be deep in this fucking pussy?

“Need someone to guide you as you fuck me deep,” he groans into your mouth as you whisper to him between kisses. “Need to fuck me? Make you dumb on my pussy?”

“Jesus,” he all but moans as your hand caresses his pelvis. He pull to hit you on the chest, “Stop being such a fucking tease.”

A short laugh comes out of you before you go ahead and hold his cock. You thumb the tip and feel his cum on your fingers. His eyes are half open and his mouth agape; you have half a mind to kiss those lips again.

Instead, you just use your mouth to make him weak. “My pretty boy. My little lion, so fucking hot moaning like that.”

His moans were cut off short, opting to bite his lip instead. You tsk, your hand jerking him off quickly after spitting on your hand to ease the pace. “Don’t be like that, Max. You know how much I love listening to you.”

In your grasp, he thrusts his hips along your hand. One of his hands lay on your shoulder as his head fell into the curve of your neck.

You can feel him pant against your skin, making small sounds that drive you to the wall. The little wet noises increase when you spit on his cock, wetting the tip with more than just his pre-cum.

His other hand goes to your waistband, tugging on it. You laugh at him and don’t do anything. “If you want something, you gotta do it yourself, Max.”

From this angle, you can’t see his face. However, you feel his glare as he takes both of his hands to at least push your pants and panties below your ass.

You slow your pace a little, making sure to caress and twist your hand from the base of his cock to the hip. His breathing is shaky as he puts a hand on you as well.

“Good boy,” you breathe out as he spits at his hand. “Good boy, Max.”

Instead of verbally replying, he goes to match your earlier pace. The suddenness of it catches you off guard, but you take his fingers well, even if his hand is still somewhat dry.

“God, Max,” you grunt, “I wanna ride your face so bad.”

He moans, caught off guard. “Fuck… Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanna feel your mouth on me, tonguing my fucking pussy and eating me like you wanna devour me.” Spitting more, he looks as if he’s trying to recreate the wet feeling. “And you’d love to just be used like that, yeah?”

He doesn't really reply. “I’m gonna cum,” he whispers as his hand fucks faster in you.

You see his silent plea and do the same with him. Kissing his neck, you whisper to him lowly about all the things you want to do to him. 

Ride his mouth. Grab and bite on those thighs. Ride him without stop as you cum from his cock alone.

When Max finishes, he’s loud and twitchy against you. His hand on you doesn’t slow until he feels your cock jerk and squirt on his hand.

Throughout his orgasm, your hand slows in pace before stopping completely. You push him a little so your eyes meet as you lick the cum off your fingers.

“Fuck, you’re such a pervert.”

You laugh. “I know. And you’re due for another shower.”

He groans but melts against you anyways. Post sex always got him so soft, despite all of his brat mumblings. It’s really endearing.

Both of you head for the shower, he for the second time, and enjoy the afternoon by sleeping. It doesn't surprise either of you that neither of you awakens for dinner. Just cuddled in each other’s arms, contented in bed.

Early in the morning, you don’t register anything. You think about how there could be a bombing outside, and you wouldn’t even stir, just a little maybe—but you do wake up to something today.

There's something heavy on your lap. You can barely open your eyes when you process Max’s head between your thighs, mouthing on your cunt like it’s a normal morning routine.

You gasp, Max’s lips wrap on your clit with his tongue flat between your pussy. His breath is hot against your skin. He’s moaning into your sex as his hands grip your thighs, begging for more of your sweet release.

“Max…” Despite knowing you’re awake, he doesn’t stop. It makes him more eager to please you. He’s practically addicted to the way you taste, not even pulling away to greet you good morning. He only stays comfortable with his mouth on you. His hand squeezes gently as he pays his full attention to you.

You reach for his hair, petting him like a dog, “That’s so good, Max. Fucking hell.” His eyes are half-closed, unfocused and clouded. The morning haze was still on his face. He moans, in bliss from just having a cunt on his mouth. 

On your cunt. 

“Good fucking morning to me,” you grind into his face and he didn’t even pull away. With his tongue on you, he lets you use him however you want. His nose presses into your clit now, his tongue fucking you over and over over as his drool drops to his chin. 

Finally remembering to take a pause, he pulls out. He’s panting heavily against your hips, and he’s flicking your clit off lazily with one hand. 

“Good morning,” his voice is raspier than usual, “sleep well?”

You stare at him like he’s the stupidest person in the world. But he is your boyfriend, so. “What are you doing?” 

Max smiles, a slow, sly grin that makes you wanna fuck him stupid. “You told me you wanted to get fucked throughout summer… and I wanted you to start earlier.” He leans back on his heels, still a hand on your pussy, giving it slow, deliberate rubs. “Plus, sometimes I like having you in my mouth, so.”

Fuck. Fucking hell.

It takes everything in you to not just fuck his mouth until you make his face a mess. You know he’d like it, he’d like it a lot. But you try to get your head out of the gutter because it is early in the morning. Then again, he was eating you out for god knows how long.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” you moan, pulling him closer to press at his mouth.

He laughs, “I haven’t even done anything.”

His tongue comes out to lick at your fingertips, teasing you just a bit more. You tell him, “I want you to keep eating me out, yeah? Give me something sweet for once.”

Max hums before shaking his head. “I don’t wanna,” he smiles, “I know you wanna be in control the entire summer, but I want you to just lie there. Do nothing. Watch me use your body.

“You’d like that, don’t you?”

You grunt as Max kisses your stomach. He doesn’t wait for you to respond as two fingers slip inside of you. He moans in time with you, as if this were giving him some simulation. You think that he just likes it when he pleases you.

“Max…” His tongue goes down to lap you up again, craving your taste wholeheartedly.

“Shh,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

And somehow, you relax. You let go of the tension in your muscles, sinking back into the mattress as Max resumes his ministrations. His mouth is heaven, his tongue a relentless force of pleasure, and you find yourself arching into his touch, desperate for more.

But just as you start to get close, Max pulls off again, this time with a trail of saliva. He looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not yet,” he says, his voice low and sultry. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You whimper in frustration, your body trembling with need. “Max, please…” you beg, your voice cracking. “I need…”

“I know what you need,” he interrupts, his tone firm. “And I’m going to give it to you. But first, you have to earn it.”

Your heart skips a beat. Earn it? What the hell does that mean? But before you can ask, Max shifts position, moving up to put you on his lap. He reaches down, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, his grip strong.

“Max…” you protest, but he silences you with a glare.

“No talking,” he orders, his voice brooking no argument. “Just listen.”

You gulp, your pulse racing as you obey. Max stares down at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushes you on his cock, impaling you with one smooth motion.

You cry out, your back arching off the bed as you take him inside. Finally. The sensation is overwhelming, too much to handle all at once. Your walls clench tightly around him, squeezing him in a vice-like grip that sends waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Fuck…” you groan, your hips twitching as he thrusts up into him, but Max pins you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

“No,” he says firmly, his voice laced with authority. “Stay still.”

You whine in frustration, but you obey, your body quivering with anticipation. Max begins to move, rocking his hips slowly, grinding against you in a way that makes your toes curl. His movements are languid, almost lazy, but they’re effective—every slide in your body against yours sends jolts of electricity coursing through your veins.

“That’s it,” Max murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Take it. Take everything I’m giving you.”

You moan, your body trembling as you struggle to hold back. But it’s impossible—the pleasure is too intense, too consuming. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tight in your gut, threatening to explode at any moment.

But just as you start to lose control, Max stops, his body going rigid above you. He stares down at you, his eyes dark with lust. “Not yet,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You whimper in frustration, your body aching with need. “Max, please…” you beg, your voice cracking. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he insists, his tone firm. “You can do anything I tell you to. Because you’re mine, aren’t you?”

You nod, your vision blurring with tears of frustration. “Yes…” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I’m yours…”

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good girl,” he purrs, his voice dripping with praise. “Now, let’s see how long you can last.”

With that, he resumes his movements, this time picking up the pace. His hips snap against yours, driving him deeper inside you with each thrust. The sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, punctuated by your ragged breaths and Max’s soft moans.

“Fuck, Max…” you groan, your body straining against the restraints of your own self-control. “I’m so close…”

“I know,” Max replies, his voice calm and steady. “But you’re not allowed to come yet. Not until I say so.”

You whimper, your body trembling with the effort of holding back. But you don’t dare disobey—not when Max is looking at you like that, with such fierce determination in his eyes.

Instead, you grit your teeth, focusing on the sensations flooding your body. You know that you’re not going to cum this morning—not really. He’s going to fuck you so good until you’re begging. This fucking brat.

But that doesn’t matter, right? He’s going to fuck you the entire summer. The thought has you only craving more.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @fallingforpvris @rtorresblog @Tribbisweetdear @Jamie2305 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── missed my sched for this banger. i had to stop or else like this would've been 10k words... and i still have my finals this week... love u guys

[sturniololuvz]

Hey! Could you write something where the triplets younger sister is a figure skater, and they’re hockey players, so they’re at the same rink and have practice at the same time. And then one day the triplets overhear their teammates talking about wanting their sister and stuff and they get all protective. And one of the triplets gets into a fight with a guy during a game, cause he said an inappropriate comment. Sorry, idk if that made sense, and if you don’t want to it’s totally fine just thought it could be a cute idea!

“Wrong Rink, Wrong Girl”

The rink was cold — the kind that numbed your fingers through your gloves and turned your breath to fog — but you loved it.

Figure skating had always been your escape. Your world. And even though your brothers ruled the opposite side of the ice in skates and pads and sharp elbows, you never minded sharing the space with them.

Until now.

You were lacing up your skates on the far side of the benches, earbuds in, when Chris heard it.

It was just after warmups. He, Nick, and Matt were finishing up drills when they skated past a group of guys laughing by the wall.

“Bro, you seen the figure skater chick lately? That little blonde? She’s got legs for days—”

Chris’s shoulders tensed.

“Y/N?” someone else asked, smirking. “She’s kinda hot for a baby Sturniolo.”

Chris stopped skating. Slowly. Stared.

But the guys kept going. “You think she knows how hot she is? I bet she’s tight, too. I’d give anything for ten minutes alone with her—”

“I swear if she wasn’t their sister—”

“Oh I’d still try. She’s always bending like that on the ice? You’re telling me she isn’t flexible as hell?”

The laugh that followed was loud. Gross. Arrogant.

And Chris saw red.

“Yo,” he barked, skating up.

The group turned, startled.

“You talk about my sister like that again,” Chris growled, “and I’ll knock your teeth into the fucking Zamboni.”

Matt and Nick noticed the tension and came over fast.

“Problem?” Nick asked, already catching the tail end of what was said.

Matt didn’t ask. He just narrowed his eyes at one of the guys — the one with the worst smirk.

“That’s our little sister,” Chris snapped. “You don’t look at her. You don’t talk about her. Got it?”

But the guy just shrugged, smug.

“Relax. Not my fault she skates around like that in front of everyone. I’m just noticing.”

And that was it.

Chris didn’t hesitate.

He dropped his gloves and threw the first punch.

⸻

The benches were chaos. The refs were blowing whistles. Yelling. Trying to drag Chris off the guy who was bleeding from the lip and cursing him out.

Nick was pulling Chris back by the shoulders. Matt was standing between them and the rest of the team, chest heaving.

“You don’t talk about her like that!” Chris kept shouting. “You don’t fucking talk about her!”

It took two coaches to separate them.

And you… you watched the whole thing happen from across the rink, frozen in your skates, heart in your throat.

⸻

It was quiet in the locker room afterward.

Chris was icing his knuckles. Nick was pacing. Matt sat with his head in his hands.

You walked in with your coat over your leotard, cheeks still pink from the cold.

“…I heard,” you said softly.

Chris looked up, ashamed. “I wasn’t gonna let them talk about you like that.”

“I know.” You crossed the room. “But now you’re benched for the next game.”

Chris shrugged. “Worth it.”

Matt stood. “You’re not just our sister, Y/N. You’re you. You work your ass off out there. You don’t deserve guys reducing you to—”

“I know,” you said again, eyes glassy. “And thank you.”

You sat down between them. Let them all sit close.

“Next time,” you whispered, “just… tell me what they said. I’ll land a triple toe loop on their faces myself.”

That got a laugh. Tired. But real.

Nick pulled you in first. Then Chris. Then Matt.

And suddenly, the rink didn’t feel so cold anymore.

⸻

[mymindisneverhere]

You Forgive Me?

Summary: Bianca is a stay at home wife who eventually gets tired of being home. However, planning a day out with the girls on Terry’s off day ends up causing a small disagreement. But Terry does what he can to make it up to her… happy wife, happy life. 

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, a little angst, shower sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, daddy kink. (Forgive me if I missed any.) 

Author's Note: This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. I haven’t written anything in a while but I hope you guys enjoy it! (If they won’t be together in real life, they'll be together in my world 🙃)

Bianca softly hummed along to the R&B music that played from the in-house speakers. The sweet melodies of Jodeci filled the home as she searched through the cabinets for seasoning. She was trying out a new recipe after flipping through pages of yet another new cookbook. A way to keep herself busy. 

Rasta Pasta was on the menu tonight and although she’d had it a few times in the past, she wanted to try and prepare it herself. She was adding the last few touches to the meal when she heard the house alarm beep a few times, alerting her that her husband was finally home from work. 

“Baby?” Terry called out to her from the front door. 

“In the kitchen!” She yelled. 

She lifted a finger to her iPad to lower the volume of the music then returned back to the stove without missing a beat. 

Terry’s heart fluttered once he entered the kitchen. He could smell the savory aroma as soon as he stepped foot inside of their home so he knew she was whipping up something good. However, the sight of her made him feel like he was experiencing her for the very first time all over again. 

“Damn it smells good in here.” He said, placing his keys on the counter. 

“Thank you.” Bianca smiled, still stirring the sauce for the pasta. 

Hugging her from behind, Terry placed a small kiss in the crook of her neck. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” She giggled a bit, mostly from the feeling of his goatee against her skin. The fact that she was so ticklish didn’t help her at all. The feeling of the thick hairs always caused her to wiggle more than she wanted to. 

“Stop Terry, you’re gonna make me spill this food.” She laughed, trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp. 

“Whatever.” He placed one last kiss on her cheek before releasing her. “How long before it’s ready?”

“About 10 minutes.” She replied, reaching up to grab two plates from the cabinet. 

“Cool, I’m about to go shower,” Terry started. “and my plate better be on the table with a strong drink next to it when I get back.” He finished, smacking her ass as hard as he could before hurrying out of the kitchen. 

“You better hope I don’t put something in that damn drink!” Bianca yelled, rubbing her left cheek hoping it’ll help the sting fade faster. “He plays so damn much.” 

While Terry showered, Bianca went ahead and set the table. She placed both plates down onto the glass table that sat in the window of the kitchen. Since it was only two of them she figured they’d eat at the smaller table instead of the larger one in the formal dining room.

She sat the plates right in front of the chairs that faced each other. Quickly making her way back over to the cabinets, she grabbed a short drinking glass for Terry and wine glass for herself. 

Terry was a simple man all the way down to how he preferred his drinks. 

“Two shots of Jack, a splash of ginger ale and a lime.” Bianca recited to herself, as if she didn’t have his favorite drink down to a science. 

She poured herself a tall glass of white wine, one that had been gifted to her from her best friend. Grabbing both glasses, she carefully walked herself over to the table and placed both drinks down just in time for Terry to return. 

“I know you’re down here, I smell your body wash.” Bianca said, not bothering to turn to fully acknowledge him. 

“I was just admiring you, that's all. I can’t do that?” Terry walked over to the table and pulled her chair out, signaling for her to have a seat. 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” 

The couple sat down and began sharing the details of their day with one another. As usual Terry said a mouthful. Everyday was a busy one for him, from creating the perfect blueprints to consulting with contractors to hiring constructions workers. The only downtown he was guaranteed was at home with his wife. 

However Jamie’s answer was always the same. After being married for just a year, she realized that being a stay at home wife wasn’t what she expected. They had no children so the house was always empty when he was gone. In the beginning she’d find herself constantly renovating their home and gardening to give their lawn a beautiful look. 

But after a while everyday started to repeat itself. Spending over three hours on the phone with her best friends who had finally convinced her that she needed more hobbies, she agreed. Staying at home and cleaning all day just to wait until her husband got home was gonna be the death of her. So she booked a few classes with her girls and hoped that this would be the start of a new life for her… one outside of just being Terry’s wife. 

“I have a workout class in the morning and then I’m  going out to brunch with the girls.” Bianca responded, taking a sip of wine. “I might do a little shopping at Michael’s afterwards, I think I wanna get into crafting.”

Terry looked up at her a bit disappointed. “But I’m off tomorrow, I want you to stay home with me.” 

“I don’t wanna be home though T.” She started. “Plus I won’t be out all day. I’ve been home all week and I’m getting tired of walking around this big ass house looking for something to do all day.” 

“I’ll be here though so it’s not like you’ll be bored.” Terry said, trying his best to get her to change her plans. “I already had plans for you to be here so you can just do the workout class and then come back home.”

Bianca looked up at him in disbelief. He nonchalantly returned back to his food. It was as if what he said was final. There was no way she was hearing him right. After everything she’d just told him, he was still insisting on her spending most of her day in the house, again. 

“I’m not changing my plans. You’ll see me when I’m done hanging with the girls.” Her tone was nothing less than stern. 

Terry’s eyes looked up to find hers already on his. They had a short stare down that seemed to last longer than it did. 

“I had my mind set, B.” He stated, taking a long pause in between saying her nickname. 

“Well no one told you to plan my day for me, T.” Bianca stated, slightly mocking him. 

He sat back, slightly frowning.  “I’m not planning your day, I just want you here while I’m here.” 

“I already told you I’ll be here once I’m done with everything and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore please. It’s ruining dinner.” Bianca said, stabbing her fork into her plate. 

Terry continued staring at her, shifting his gaze back and forth between her and her plate. He really wasn’t trying to piss her off but he did want his wife home with him on his first day off in a while. 

“I’m not hungry anymore.” The sound of her fork dropping into her plate caused his head to jerk back. She stood up and began to walk away from the table but Terry caught her arm. 

“Wait baby, I wasn’t trying to upset you.” He pleaded with her, grabbing her hand to pull her toward him. “I’m sorry. I’ll be here when you’re finished having your day out. No complaints, nothing.” 

The hold he had on her caused Bianca to lean against him unwillingly. She kept her gaze forward, avoiding his eyes as best as she could. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to forgive him so quickly. It always took a while for emotions to pass and Terry knew this. 

“Okay.” Was all she could say at the moment. 

He placed a kiss on her shoulder before asking, “Can you sit back down and finish eating dinner with me please?” 

Bianca stood from his grasp and walked back over to her chair. She picked her fork up and twirled it a bit, still not completely over their conversation. Terry tried his hardest to change the subject, get her to laugh, ask her questions about her shows she watched throughout the day. But Bianca was still pretty annoyed, answering him with the shortest answers and the driest tone she could muster up. 

Next day 

“When are you gonna answer the phone?” Francesca, one of Bianca’s best friends asked as they slowly walked down each aisle of the craft store. 

“When I get ready.” Bianca’s phone rang twice every hour and buzzed even more. Terry was trying to do his usual check up on her, just to see if she was okay. However, Bianca was still in her feelings about last night. 

“I’m not gonna tell you to stop being mad at him but girl he just wanted you with him. If he didn’t love you, he would’ve been pushing your ass out the door!” Francesca said, reaching up to grab a bundle of fake roses. 

“It’s not that, Ches,” Bianca started. “It’s the fact that he tried to blow off the plans I had for myself because he wanted the day to go his way. I told him how much I was getting tired of being home everyday and that I finally found some things I wanted to try. You know, to keep myself busy.’

‘He pretty much was just like ‘well you can do one of those things but fuck the rest’.” 

Francesca stopped walking and stared blankly at her friend. “He did not say that.” 

“Well in so many words he did.” Bianca rolled her eyes. 

“Did he apologize, B?”

“Yeah but...” Bianca trailed off. 

“But?” 

“I’m still mad at him so I don’t care.” Bianca said, lifting her phone. “And look, he’s not even calling anymore so he doesn’t care either.” 

“That man has to have the patience of a damn disciple to deal with your stubborn ass.” Francesca said, continuing to walk down the aisle. 

“Whatever.” 

Bianca pulled into the driveway of her home and noticed Terry out in the yard. He was down on one knee, sweat dripping from his forehead as he pulled chunks of dirt from the ground. He was dressed in a white tank top and denim overalls which automatically told her…

“I know he is not fucking with my plants.” She mumbled to herself. 

So caught up in her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed him stand to his feet and walk toward her car. She immediately sat back in her seat and pretended to look for something in her purse. 

*Knock Knock* 

Bianca’s head turned to her window to see Terry leaning down a bit. Pushing the button on the door, she cracked the window and tilted her head to the side. 

“What?” She asked. 

Terry just stared at her with raised brows. He knew she was trying her hardest to stay mad at him which was why he refused to match her energy. 

“I saw you staring at me when I pulled in, why you acting like you didn’t see me coming?” 

“I didn’t.” She lied. 

“Unlock the door.” He said, standing up straight. 

“No.”

“Bianca stop playing and unlock the damn door.” 

Another stare down, only this time Terry hadn’t looked away which meant he wasn’t walking away from the car until she did what he asked her to do. 

*Click* 

The sound of the car doors unlocking at once caused Terry to pull the door open. Peeking his head into the car, he looked in the back seat only to find a few shopping bags and a yoga mat. 

“You still mad at me?” He asked, turning his head to face her. 

“What do you think?” 

“I don’t think you are.” 

“Okay so why’d you ask?” She said, cocking her head to the side. 

Terry chuckled, trying to ignore the smart remark. 

“Do you want me to be mad?” Her brows lifted a bit, hoping she’d get the answer she wanted. 

“No Bianca.”

“Then why are you frowning?” 

“I’m frowning because it’s hot out here.” Terry responded. “And because I didn’t see my credit card in my wallet this morning but I see bags in the backseat. You took my card to go shopping?”

“Duh.” She said, before pressing the button to shut off her engine. “Can I get out of the car please?” 

Terry took a few steps back as Bianca stepped out of the car, pushing the door back purposely to make Terry step back even further. She opened the back door and grabbed her things before slamming it shut. Terry stood there still holding onto the driver's door as if she was about to get back in the car. 

“You wanna have a staring contest or you gonna close my door?”

Terry chuckled again, this time looking off to the side as he pushed the door shut. She was testing him and she was doing it on purpose. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he looked back down at her and motioned for her to hand him the bags. 

Bianca lifted them to his hands and dropped them before stepping around him to walk into the house. Right as she reached the front door she looked down at her plant bed. 

“Why are you pulling up my plants?” She asked, frowning a bit from the sunlight. 

“I was pulling up the weeds, I didn’t touch your plants.” Terry responded. 

Bianca rolled her eyes, not bothering to say thank you. He was clearly doing her a favor, a way to try and get back in her good graces. But stubborn is as stubborn does. She walked into the house and made her way to the kitchen.

“I brought you some food from Texas Roadhouse if you want it. It’s in one of those bags.” Bianca dryly stated, retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“Thank you baby.” He placed the bags onto the counter and walked over to her. He stood there waiting for her to acknowledge him. 

“What?” She eyed him up and down. 

“Can I have a hug?”

“No. You’re sweaty and you stink!” She replied, taking a step away from him. 

“You love me unconditionally though, right?” Terry said, grabbing her and hugging her anyways. 

“Terry stop! You get on my nerves!” Bianca put her hands up to his chest, pushing him as hard as she could but he didn’t budge. 

“Tell me you love me and I’ll let you go.” 

“Get off of me!” Bianca yelled. 

“Say it.” Terry smiled, laying his head on her shoulder to rub more of his sweat on her. 

“I love you now move!” 

He released her, laughing at the face she was making as she wiped his sweat off. She tightened the top on her water bottle and threw it at him, cursing him for playing too much yet again. 

------------------------------------------

Bianca walked into their bathroom with a towel draped over her arm. Not noticing Terry in the conjoined closet, she turned the knob and stood back as she waited for the water to pour from the shower head. 

When she turned around she met Terry’s gaze, that same smirk from earlier across his face. 

“I need to shower.” She said dryly. 

“You just wanna shower with me.” He said, walking out of the closet with nothing but his briefs on. 

“Boy please.” 

Bianca looked down briefly before returning her eyes to his. She tried to act as if she didn’t notice the bulge in his pants but the breath that caught in her throat gave her away. He licked his lips as he used his thumbs to push down his shorts, never breaking their gaze. 

With a swift motion, his dick sprang out. Only semi hard but still a sight to see nonetheless. Bianca rolled her eyes as she brushed him off, trying her hardest to keep her eyes leveled with his. 

Terry stepped into the shower, reaching for the knob on the far left and turning it up so the water would run hot. He stood just an inch under the shower head, as he let the water flow down his body. He chuckled to himself knowing Bianca was watching him. 

Unapologetically, she was. Trailing her eyes down the length of his back to his tight ass. She was trying so hard to stay in her feelings but she wanted him inside of her as soon as possible. 

Not wasting any more time or water, she quickly tossed her workout clothes to the floor and stepped under the shower head to the far right. The two of them stood quietly, only the soothing sounds of water splashing filled the room. 

Bianca closed her eyes, appreciating the warm water that soothed her. Her hands danced around her body. Running her fingers over her stomach, down to her thighs and back up to her chest. She was so caught up in her own trance that she didn’t notice Terry stepping away from his side of the shower. 

Planting a kiss on the nape of her neck, he gripped her waist gently. Bianca’s eyes snapped open, almost forgetting she wasn’t alone in the bathroom. 

“Terry, you're still dirty.” She said, only verbally protesting. 

“I‘ve been in here longer than you.” He said in a low tone, still placing kisses on the back of her neck and shoulders. 

“I don’t smell soap.” 

Terry ignored her and continued kissing her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“I’m not even clean yet.” She stated, still trying to stop him… barely. 

“A little salt never hurt nobody.” His tongue ran across her shoulder, sending a quick chill down her spine. Terry never gave a damn about her being sweaty or even hairy. If he wanted it, he was gonna take it however it came. A man. 

Eventually her head fell back, allowing him more access to wherever he wanted to lick and kiss. 

His hand traveled down in between her legs while the other toyed with her nipple. Her hands followed his, rubbing his forearms while her eyes slowly closed. Steam traveled past the glass doors as his fingers slipped in between her lower lips. Dipping his middle finger slightly into her hole, he used her juices to tease her clit. 

Terry’s lips never left her neck. He knew they couldn’t be too long because her hair would eventually begin to revert which meant more maintenance for her. So he purposely tended to her spots, heightening her arousal. Her hips fell into a rhythm with his fingers, rolling them as her ass pressed against his now rock hard dick. The friction from her ass against his length made him let out a deep moan. 

“Fuck me.” She breathed bluntly, two words he was waiting to hear. 

Without thought he walked her forward a bit, until her palms hit the wall. He reached down and gripped his dick, positioning it right in between her legs. He thrusted his hips a few times, using her pussy to wet his tip. Pulling back a bit, he pressed against her opening and entered her without any resistance. 

Bianca’s back arched, trying to position herself so that she could feel every inch of him. He instantly gripped her hips and pumped in and out of her. Loud sounds of her ass slapping against his skin echoed throughout the bathroom. The water continued to run down Terry’s back as he rammed her, chasing his much needed nut. Her cheek pressed against the wall, eyes rolling into her head while she chewed her bottom lip. 

Terry had never been a minute man but he was always a considerate man… sometimes too damn considerate. She knew how much her husband loved being inside of her and she loved feeling him slide in and out of her. He was thrusting into her with so much passion but she didn’t want him to cum so soon. 

“Slow down baby, not yet.” She moaned.

“But your hair...” Terry said, never ceasing his movement. 

“I don’t care about that, I wanna feel you.” And he knew exactly what she meant. 

Always following her orders, he slowed up. Pulling his hips back until he could slightly see the head of his dick, he pushed back into her slowly. He kept his strokes long and deep, waiting to hear her hum of approval. She licked her lips, smirking a bit from the feeling of his thick dick filling her walls. 

“Yeah, like that daddy.” A blend of a whine and moan as she closed her eyes. 

He tilited his head to the side to watch her face as he fucked her. He bit his lip watching her expressions change, slapping her ass a few times just to hear her hiss from the pain. He looked down to watch the length of his dick gradually become coated in her cream. He quietly cursed to himself before placing his gaze on her again. Watching her bottom lip slip from her teeth, her eyebrows curled upward and when her jaw dropped he knew what was next. 

“Yesssss, oh fuuuuuck.” She cried as she felt her orgasm build. 

His pace increased, pounding her and gripping her hips tighter. His ass cheeks clenched with every pump in an effort to get an even deeper dig into her.

“Cum on that dick baby.” Terry said, licking his lips as he watched his dick go in and out. 

She called out his name a few times, eyes rolling into her head as her orgasm strengthened. She tapped the wall a few times hoping he’d let up just enough for her to catch her breath but he didn’t. The feeling of the tip of his dick pressing against her cervix caused her to bring her body forward, trying to run from him. She’d inch her body closer to the wall and he’d take a step forward right along with her. 

Bianca lifted onto her tiptoes a bit, cursing again and again until he finally pulled out with another hard slap to her ass. 

She let out a deep breath, licking her parched lips and dragging her hands down the wall.

“Come here.” Terry pulled on her hips causing her to face him. 

Without warning she was lifted off of her feet, her arms naturally wrapped around his neck while his arms snaked beneath her thighs. Gripping her ass, he lifted her just enough then lowered her down onto his dick. He watched her face closely as her eyes rolled closed. Lifting her up and down effortlessly, he grunted as he felt her tighten around his dick. 

“Relax baby, I got you.” He said. He could feel her grip on his neck loosen just a bit. Her bun eventually fell into a ponytail that bounced up and down along with her. Dropping his eyes down to watch her titties bounce as well, he slammed her down onto his dick over and over again.

“Fuck daddy, yes!” She yelled, gripping the back of his neck tighter than before. 

Her nails dug into his skin but the pain went unnoticed. He was so focused on the mess she was making, the white mess that was settling at the base of his dick. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She chanted with every thrust. The sounds of her whining as she came wouldn’t allow him to let up until she was damn near begging him to. He could feel her grip loosen again which let him know that she was getting ready to tap out. 

Terry pressed her back against the wall, placing his palms flat on the tile. With her knees pinned to her sides, there was no room for her to wiggle or run from him this time. Finally lifting his eyes back to hers, he pushed his hips forward, digging into her as he studied her expression… it was his favorite part of fucking her. 

Her brows were lifted a bit and her eyes were low. She hadn’t quite bounced back from her second climax but that was a good thing for Terry. Keeping his momentum, he wanted her to remain slightly out of it. Her moans were always music to his ears when she was like this, so raw and unfiltered. She whimpered and whined, trying to speak but forgetting her words. Her mouth sat slightly open as her eyes met his. The soft green irises stared at her so intensely, she damn near wanted to break eye contact. 

“You still mad at me?” He asked, never changing his pace. 

“No…” She cooed with a stuttered exhale. 

“You forgive me?” 

“Yes!” She moaned, nodding her head. 

“Yeah?” He nodded along with her. “Tell me.”

“I forgive you daddy, I forgive you!”

He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, kissing her while she repeated herself like a broken record. 

She was cumming again, this time unable to hold on to him which was fine because he didn’t plan on dropping her. The gushy sounds of her pussy seeping was turning him feral. She could feel him biting at her jaw, moaning as he fucked her without remorse. 

Her eyes finally opened, landing on the mirror that had lost its fog long ago. She watched his ass tighten with every thrust, the amount of stamina this man had was beyond her. The muscles in his back flexed as he kept her pinned tightly against the wall. 

His head lowered to the crook of her neck where he continued to nibble at her skin. The growl that escaped his lips let her know that he was close. 

Able to come to her senses for a split second, she encouraged him in the best way she could. 

“You gonna cum in my pussy daddy?” 

A shuttered moan left his lips. He was ready to fold and although she’d witnessed it a hundred times in the past, she never got tired of it. 

“Fill this pussy up baby.”

“Oh shit.” He moaned. 

Bianca’s eyes were locked on him in the mirror. The visual of his body flexing over and over again as he fucked her had Bianca thanking God for that damn mirror. 

Bianca turned her head slightly and dipped her tongue into his ear. Still staring at their reflection in the mirror, she smirked to herself as she watched his hips twitch.

“Fuck!” Loudly escaped his lips through gritted teeth as he locked his hips in place, pressing himself against her body as closely as he could. She could feel his dick twitch inside of her as cum oozed from his tip. 

“Mmmmm.” She hummed in satisfaction, loving the feeling of his warm seed inside of her. 

Bianca’s walls contracted out of habit which caused Terry to pull his now sensitive dick out of her. He reached down to turn the shower knob, cutting the water off completely but still keeping Bianca pinned. The only sound in the bathroom was their breathing, loud and heavy. 

Bianca placed kisses on his neck, rubbing the back of his head as he caught his breath. Silent curses left his lips as his shoulders lifted and dropped in pattern with his breathing. 

“We have to shower now, baby.” She said, still kissing him. 

“I wanna go to bed.” Terry mumbled, head still buried in the crook of her neck. 

“After you shower.” She tapped his shoulder, signaling to put her down on the ground. 

Carefully removing his arms from under her legs, he placed her down and wrapped his arms around her waist. Still struggling to catch his breath, he dropped his head back down to her shoulder. He was damn near dropping all of his weight onto her. 

“Terry.” She said, trying to get him to stand up straight. 

“Give me five minutes.”

Bianca kissed her teeth, giggling at his sudden exhaustion. Reaching behind him, she turned the middle knob that controlled the waterfall shower hanging directly above them. The water rained down on the two. Snatching the rubber bands out of her hair, she left the waterfall directly onto the top of her head down to her feet. 

‘Fuck this ponytail.’ She thought. 

The two lovebirds spent the rest of the time bathing one another and cleansing each other's hair. 

Finally stepping out of the shower to prepare for bed, they both threw on their night time clothes. After lathering her body with lotion, she walked into her bedroom to ask Terry if he wanted her to heat his food. 

When she heard the sound of soft snores she smiled, amazed at how tired he really was. Laying flat on his back with an arm thrown above his head, the other across his chest, he didn’t even get a chance to tuck himself in. 

Pussy put him to sleep… I guess. 

(They water bill bout to be high as hell… Please excuse any mistakes. 🩵)

Taglist: @notapradagurl7 @saturnville @kykylovesblog @ovohanna24 @saltburnsworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @blackmoonchilee @blckblossom @kaylaahisthebestest-

(I added those who were on my last taglist, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.)

[chellybear98]

(Unpleasant) Surprise...?

Hey lovies! It's been a while since I've written... I'm finally getting the feeling to write again so I'm not gonna let it go to waste. I just wrote this but its not proof read or anything... just bare with me 🥹 Let me know what you guys think! Should I write more? Request if you want me to write anything in particular! I don't mind writing for any of the kids but I don't write smut... Angst or fluff are my go to's! Any kind of feedback would be great!

Thank you! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Channie x reader

Genre: slight angst?, fluff!

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: besties to lovers trope...? You take trip to visit the kids only to be greeted by a moody Chan! But why was he so moody?

Warnings: None? The use of the term "idiot" but in a playful way! Chan being a jerk but only for a millisecond...

“Lixie! I just landed! Where are you?!” You said overly excited into the phone. You had flown all the way from Australia to Korea to see your favorite boys in the world. More specifically, your most favorite boy, Chris, or as the rest of the world knows him, BangChan. 

You and Chris had been best friends since kindergarten. Ever since he stood up for you in the playground, you have both been inseparable. But of course, like every friends to lovers trope, you inevitably fell in love with him when you both became teenagers. He, for obvious reasons, does not know about your feelings and you would prefer to keep it that way for the rest of your lives together. You really didn’t want to ruin the relationship you both already had by bringing up feelings that were quite obviously not reciprocated. 

You had decided to surprise the boys by going to Korea to visit but due to the fact that you had no idea how to get around Korea or even how to get to the JYP building, you had to inform at least one of the boys about your surprise visit. You had planned on Minho being the one you let in on the secret seeing as he was also one of your best friends aside from Chris, but the last time you FaceTimed Felix, he read you like an open book and he managed to get the information out of you. 

So here you are at the airport waiting for Felix to come pick you up so he can take you to the JYP building to surprise the boys. You had missed the boys and you had really wanted to see them. Felix had told you that Chris was under a lot of stress because of their comeback being right around the corner so you thought now would’ve been the best time to visit so you can help calm him down and make sure he’s taking care of himself. 

“I’m coming right now… I think I see you!” Felix says over the phone. You look up ahead and see that he was right, he was running towards you. You were immediately wrapped in his arms as soon as he got to you. “I missed you, Noona!”. “Missed you too, Lixie!” You say as you return the hug. 

After the two of you finished with your reunion, Felix took your bags from you and led you to the car and he drove you to the JYP building so you can go see the other boys. When you got there the two of you made your way to the practice room where all the boys, except for 3racha, were. 

“Noona!!!” You heard as soon as you walked in. You looked up and saw Jeongin running towards you. He did the same as Felix did and wrapped you in his arms as soon as he got to you. The rest oft he boys following suite with the hugs as soon as Jeongin let you go. 

“Are you boys surprised?” You say as soon as you were finished with hugging them all. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!” Minho says as he looks at you with an angry face. But you knew him better than that. He was’t really mad at you. You could see the excitement behind his eyes. 

“I was gonna tell you! But Felix figured it out before I could mention it to you and I didn’t want more than one of your to know.” You say with a slight pout. You know Minho stops with his tough guy image once he sees your pouty face.

“It’s okay… I’m just glad I get to see you again. We really did miss you. Especially with how Chan has been acting lately…” Minho trails off as he looks at the rest of the boys who slightly nod their heads with a look of concern. 

“What’s wrong? What’s been going on with Chris?” You ask as your concern for him begins to rise. 

“He’s been extra moody and angry lately. He’s been snapping at us for no reason. He even yelled at Jeongin yesterday because he didn’t put away the dishes in a certain way when he did the dishes last night…” Hynjin says as he looks at Jeongin for confirmation. You look over at Jeongin yourself to see that he was nodding along to what Hyunjin was saying with a pout on his face. Jeongin is a strong young man who is very independent but you know how much he cares for Chris’ opinion and you know he felt bad for making Chris angry. 

“Innie… Don’t let what he said get to you, okay? You know how he gets when he’s stressed. He didn’t mean it. I promise…” You say as you give him a hug. 

“Okay I think this is my sign to go surprise 3racha now… Wish me luck!” You say as both you and Felix make your way out of the practice room and make your way towards the studio where the other boys were. Once you were outside of the studio door Felix stopped you before you went inside. 

“Noona, be careful okay? Chris Hyung really is in a bad mood… he might yell at you too.” Felix says as he looks at you with worry on his face. 

“Dont worry about me Lixie… You know I can handle him!” You say as you give Felix a reassuring smile before knocking on the door before entering. As soon as you open he door you see Jisung running towards you. 

“Noona! You will not believe how grateful I am that you’re here!” Jisung says as he grabs you by the shoulders and look deep into your eyes. You see the stress and tiredness in them as well as some fear. You know it was because of Chris. These boys hate letting Chris down. 

“Im glad that my presence makes such a big impact!” You say with a giggle as you give him a hug and look over to see Changbin looking at you with a tired smile. What you weren’t expecting to see though, was Chris with his head still in his laptop pretending like you weren’t even there. Your heart dropped a little but you pretended not to care since you didn’t want the boys to see you sad. You knew the boys all knew about your feelings for Chris and you were grateful that none of them ever said anything to him about it. 

You take deep breath as you look over at Chris and then you looked at the other boys who were also in the room. “Why don’t you boys go take a little break, go get something to eat and drink and just get some fresh air for a little…” You say. The boys agreed and they all began to leave the room before Chris finally turned away from his laptop screen. 

“We have work to do! We don’t have time for breaks!” He said quite loudly and it caused for everyone in the room to jump in surprise. 

You take deep breath before looking at the boys and you whisper a small “go” before turning to look at Chris who was avoiding looking at you. 

Once the boys were all out of the room you sat in the chair next to Chris. “What is wrong with you?” You say as you try to make eye contact with him. 

“Why are you here?” He says in return as he had a blank look on his face once he finally looks over at you. 

“Are you serious right now? You haven’t seen me in almost a year and this is how you greet me?” You say as you look at him in shock. He had been rather cold towards you lately but you thought that it was because of all the work he had to get done but now that you’re here with him, it feels like it was something more than just that. 

“You never told anyone that you were coming. Do you know how inconsiderate you are for doing that? We’re all busy. We don’t need the extra headache of having to babysit you.” Chris said. You were confused as to why he was being like this towards you but you were getting angry and annoyed. 

“Babysit me…? Chris I have no clue what has gotten into you but I know I didn’t fly all the way to Korea just to sit here and be insulted by my best friend. I came here because I missed you! We haven’t had a proper conversation in months and I was worried about you! I had to make sure that you were okay with my own eyes and clearly you’re not okay. So either you tell me what’s actually going on with you or I find a way to figure it out myself. Your choice. Either way, you’re not getting rid of me.” You say with a straight face as you try to look as tough as you can but you were actually on the verge of tears. 

Chris looks at you with his jaw clenched. You knew he was actually thinking about it. You can tell that he wanted to talk about it but something was holding him back. 

“Why are you holding back? Why don’t you want to tell me? Do you not wanna be best friends anymore? Is that it? Are you finally sick and tired of me?” You continue to ask questions without waiting for a response as your voice wavers. Your tough act dropping as you cant hold your emotions in anymore. A single tear rolls down your face and that is what breaks Chris. He immediately reaches out and pulls you into his arms. 

“I’m sorry for being such a terrible best friend. Im sorry for being cold to you for the past couple months. Im sorry for making you think that any of this was your fault. None of this is your fault. It’s all my fault. I let my emotions get the best of me and I pushed you away because of it… I can never get tired of you. I miss you every second of everyday that I’m not with you.” He said as he continues to hold you as you let your silent tears fall. You were still so confused. You pulled away from his hug slightly to look into his eyes. 

“What do you mean? Why did your emotions get the best of you?” 

“I mean… I…” He pauses for a minute as he looks into your eyes. It seemed like he was preparing himself for what he was about to say. 

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship but I think I already did that when I started acting cold and distant… Again, I’m so sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you think that any of this was your fault. Its just… I don’t think I can hold it anymore. Lately you’re all I can think about. Any spare moment that I get, all I think about is you. I’m in love with you… Ive been in love with you for years but I never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we already had by making things awkward for you.”

“You are such an idiot!” You say as you pull away from him completely and you smack him on his arm. 

“Ow! Why would you hit me?!” 

“Because you’re an idiot! How could you possibly think that you confessing your feelings to me would make things awkward? I’m in love with you too! I have been since we were teenagers!” 

“Okay wait, you technically are an idiot too… just saying…” he says with a small smirk. 

“What?! How?!”

“Because you also didn’t confess your feelings for me earlier…”

You stayed silent for a bit because you knew he was right. You were both in the same boat. 

“Guess we’re a pair of idiots then…” You say with a giggle as you look into his eyes. He then leaned over and grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap as he wraps you in his arms.

“I really did miss you, idiot…” 

“I missed you too, idiot…” You say as you rest your head on his chest. 

“You gotta stop yelling at the boys when you get frustrated… they’re all afraid of you when you get angry.” You say after a few moments of silence. 

He starts giggling at your words. “They are not afraid of me… they’re just a little intimidated sometimes but they know me…”

“You still have to apologize to them though… for the way you’ve been treating them lately.”

“Yes, ma’am! I promise that ill apologize to the kids… but only if you promise to be my girlfriend” He says with a cheeky smile on his face. 

You look up at him in shock at his words. You really weren’t expecting him to want to be boyfriend and girlfriend right now, but you weren’t gonna complain. 

“Okay, deal!” 

You both continue to sit there, with you in his lap for a couple more minutes until Changbin and Jisung walked back into the room with boxes of food in their hands. Changbin was the first to say something when he sees you in Chris’ lap. 

“Please tell me that the two of you finally confessed and that we don’t have to keep pretending that we don’t see the way you two look at each other with heart eyes!” He says in a pleading tone. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he was so stressed about the mundane situation. 

“Don’t worry Binnie! Chris stopped being a chicken and he finally confessed…” 

“Hey!” Chris exclaims as he pokes your side playfully. You giggle in response and immediately stop when you hear a gagging sound coming from Jisung. You quickly look over at him, only for him to start complaining. 

“Okay, im a fan of love but I really don’t want to see the two of you being all lovey lovey… its weird and gross… its like seeing your parents kiss…” He says as he unconsciously shudders in disgust. Chris, Changbin and you all begin to laugh at Jisung’s reaction. 

You really were happy that you made the decision to visit… 

[wosostories]

I'm Good

USWNT x Teen!Reader

Note (from when I wrote it): I had a pretty good plan when I sat down to write this, but that kinda went out the window. However I do like how this turned out for the most part and I hope you do too. 

Note (from when I reread it and decided to post it): I wrote this back in like august so it's kinda just been sitting in the drafts since then lol enjoy!

Summary: Reader gets hurt in a training session during the 2023 WWC and hides it from her teammates. 

You could feel the pain as soon as you landed from going for the header. Your foot landed wrong and you came down twisting your ankle in the process. The grimace on your face would have been obvious to anyone who saw it. Lucky for you no one did. 

You repositioned your foot on the ground wincing a little as you made it weight bearing. 

“You good kid?” Your captain, Horan, called to you as you were taking too long to get back into the play. 

“Ya, just landed funny. I’m good now though.”

“You need to see the trainer.”

You shook your head at her. You knew if you went to see the trainer that Vlatko would bench you even if there was nothing wrong. Which there wasn’t. “No, I'm good.”

“Alright just let someone know if you aren't.” You nodded and ran back into practice keeping the pain you were feeling out of your expression. 

You finished up training and made your way back to the locker room. 

“Hey Bubs you doing ok? You were a bit slow that second half of training?” Lynn asks you. She is your teammate on Gotham FC and like a big sister to you. 

“Oh uh ya. I’m fine, just a little tired I think. Long tournament. Just need to get some rest tonight and I’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”

“If you're sure. But come to me if you need anything. You know I’ll do anything I can to help.”

You nod, “I know. Thank you.” You get your gear back in your bag and start heading to the bus to get back to the hotel. 

“Y/N!” You stop and sigh. You turn to face the trainer. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Do we have to do this now?” You ask.

“You’re lucky we didn’t do this an hour ago when I wanted to pull you from training. Did you really think that we weren’t going to notice the pain you were in.”

“WHAT!” You turn around and find Lynn, Kristie, Soph, and Trinity also trying to go to the bus. 

“You just told me that you were fine.” 

“That’s because I am.”

“I think I’m going to be the judge of that.” You are forced to follow the physio to the training room. Followed closely by Lynn who, “Obviously can’t trust you to take care of yourself on your own. But what should I have expected from a 16 year old?”

Her statement hurt you more than you care to admit so you followed silently not wanting to disappoint her anymore. You hop up on the table and the trainer starts poking and prodding at your ankle. 

You let out multiple grunts of pain and tears start welling in your eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell someone that you were in this much pain?” Lynn asks, clearly annoyed with you. 

She cut you off before you could answer. “Is she going to be ok?” Lynn asks the trainer. 

The trainer sighs but nods. “I want her to ice it and she won’t be participating in practice tomorrow. We’ll re-evaluate before the game to see if she can play.”

Now Lynn sighs and you wipe at your tears. “Did she make it worse by not coming off the field when it happened?” 

“I can’t say absolutely but it is very likely, yes.” 

Lynn sighs again and nods. She steps out of the room while the trainer wraps your ankle. 

Once Lynn steps out you can’t help but let the tears fall. Less from the pain and more from the thought that you disappointed the person that you see as your big sister. The trainer doesn’t comment and gives you some ice while they finish packing up their things. 

The trainer is the one who ends up driving you back to the hotel and helping you up to your room. Lynn wasn’t there and you figured that she was hanging out with Kristie. You knew that you disappointed her and that she probably didn’t even want to look at you right now. 

You grab a pillow and curl up around it as you hold it to your chest. You end up crying yourself to sleep wishing that you had told someone when it happened if only so Lynn wouldn’t be mad at you. So that she would hold you and reassure you that everything was going to be ok. 

Your back is turned to the door so when Lynn does finally come back she doesn’t notice the tear streaks staining your face. It’s only a few hours later when she wakes you for dinner that it even dawns on her that something is wrong. 

“Bubs come on wake up. It’s time to get dinner. Your ankle won’t be able to get better if you don’t eat.” You sit up slowly and rub at your eyes. It's no use though when more tears well up when you notice that it’s Lynn waking you up.

“Y-you came back?” You wrap your arms around her tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and that I didn’t come off the field when it happened. I’m sorry.”

Lynn stands there shocked for a moment before she wraps her arms around you. You let out a sob of relief at the gesture. 

“You’re ok Bubs. It’s alright.” Lynn wipes the tears from your eyes. “It’s going to be ok. I’m sorry I left the way I did. I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I’m sorry.”

After another minute of holding you Lynn lifts you into her arms.

“What are you doing?” You ask, wiping away the last of your tears. 

“Well you gotta get to dinner somehow.” You let out a laugh and hold on as you let Lynn carry you to dinner. 

[phoebe-delia]

Mid-Story Lines

I was tagged by my love @greattemptation in this game! (check hers out here). Here's a list of mid-story lines from 10 of my fics, all published. (I know others have done WIPs but I'm just doing published stuff bc the only WIP I have rn is for an anon fest.) I'm tagging some greats here; sorry if yall have already done it and I didn't see: @getawayfox @beloved-child-of-the-house @academicdisasterfic @moonflower-rose

(Because I'm nothing if not self-indulgent, I included a little commentary about each of the fics below. Also, to absolutely no one's shock, I'm starting with my favorite child, TIMT. )

this is me trying

“Why?” Malfoy said, his voice breathy but forceful. “Why me? Why aren’t you turning to Granger or Weasley or Longbottom or…literally anyone else?”

“I don’t know,” Harry nearly whispered. “I didn’t mean to go looking for you, the first day I went to the diner. I really was just stopping in for food. But then I saw you, working and trying and getting along with Muggles, and I just,” he swallowed around a lump in his throat. “I think that maybe if I talked to you I could see how you did it.”

“How I did what?”

Harry drew in a lungful of air and expelled it in a drawn-out breath. "Figured out the difference between who you were supposed to be, and who you really are.”

Just Take Me Home

Beep....Beep....Beep....Beep...

That damned smoke detector's out of batteries, was Harry's first semi-conscious thought. Then his next one made his eyes snap open. I don't have a smoke detector.

I Could Never Rescue You

I fell asleep, tossing and turning alone in bed, and now I wake to find you next to me. The sight is usually a comfort, but now it only fills me with irritation. You must have arrived home late without a word.

Again.

Speak Now

Knowing you’ll never see this, combined with the firewhiskey’s satisfying burn in my throat to lubricate my thoughts, I feel safe in admitting that you are glorious in a duel. You look so determined, so powerful, and yet so controlled and deliberate. Your eyes gleam and you exude strength and Merlin if it isn’t beautiful. The only benefit to being your one-time enemy was getting to see you like that, being one of the few people to experience the force that is Harry Potter.

Just Between Us

Draco shook his head. “How you’ve lasted through years of Ministry galas without humiliation is beyond me.”

“Easy. I don’t dance.”

“Why?”

Harry shrugged. “I never learned.”

Draco stepped forward. “I can teach you, if you want.”

Little Red

“So which poor sods are you assigning to the case?” Ron said with a smirk.

Kingsley pressed his lips together and said nothing, looking at the two of them with sympathy.    

Harry’s face fell. “You can’t be serious.”

I'm Beginning to See the Light (an Eight Drarry Nights Story)

Draco holds up a hand. “Potter. It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s go to the Muggle store.”

Harry blinks. Then tries, and fails, to suppress his smile. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “I’m not saying it again.” He walks out of the room and calls over his shoulder, “But nice try!”

The Door

“Harry, darling, I’m with Father and he’s having trouble coming to terms with our relationship. Do you mind saying a quick ‘Hello’ to prove to him that I’m not trying to shock him into an early death just so I can take the piss?”

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

“It’s Harry.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know it was that complicated—”

Potter laughed again. “The situation isn’t hairy, you dolt. Call me Harry.”

Call It What You Want

Potter let out a laugh. “Okay, well just put your food here on this turntable,” he pressed something that made the little door pop open, and Draco jumped slightly. “Then you just press the buttons to tell it how long you want it to cook, press the “start” button and then it’ll go until it’s finished.”

Draco nodded. “That makes sense.”

Potter’s eyes lit up. “It does?”

“Yes, I understand.” 

 “Great!”

“Just one question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What’s a button?”

Okay I included my commentary that no one asked for.

TIMT: My favorite child, as I said. appears on just about every list I make of my fics, if I can help it.

JTMH: Of all the things I've written, this is one of the ones that has made me laugh the most.

ICNRY: Maybe one of my favorite things I've written in a long time, despite being wildly different from my usual. Mind the tags!!!

Speak Now: Epistolary fics are the FUNNEST and I loved writing Draco here.

Just Between Us: Oh my godddd the stress of writing this fic. It paid off, I think (hope), but I put way too much pressure on myself.

Little Red: Again, very different from my norm. I'm proud of it for that reason, but I feel I could write it soooo much better now.

IBTSTL: This was my first real WIP that I updated regularly, and it was so much fun to have regular commenters and get people's feedback in real time!

The Door: One of my first fics. Not my typical fic but it was a great way to explore Draco, especially as a new writer.

MAATHP: The first fic to stress me out lol. For my Swifties, this came out more than a year before "The Great War," or else this would've absolutely been the fic for Midnights.

CIWYW: Another early idea. The "What's a button" part still makes me laugh.

[letters-unsending]

57 - Villain has a realization. Found Family.

/////

Villain froze as stared down at his plate. The ceramic had a crack in the side and the fork he held had a bent prong.

He had been trained to parse illusion from reality. Illusions were lazy: full of repeating patterns, refashioning a single concept a hundred times. He could spot an illusion when the carpet, tea sets and napkins were all fringed with the exact same design, but there was no pattern here, only reality, uneven and skewed.

He set his fork down. Across from him, Sidekick ate with his usual gusto, and next to sidekick, Heroine busied herself with her favorite tea and scrawled a wonky character onto her napkin. She lifted the drawing toward Hero, who shrugged alongside Superhero when she asked if they recognized it.

The napkin, Villain knew, was left over from a pirate-themed birthday party Sidekick had tricked him into attending. Their plates were different colors. In the middle of the table, a burnt tear cleaved through the cloth, a mishap from Heroine’s bi-weekly game night.

Altogether, the scene was too detailed to be illusory, but Villain’s head spun and the ends of fingers turned to static all the same.

He was standing before he could think, chair squealing back as he kneed it to the side so he could clamber past Hero’s chair and duck into the hall.

The flow of chatter in the dining room turned choppy, punctuated with questions and Superhero’s answering murmurs. Close as he was, Villain should’ve been able to discern every word but the conversation devolved into white noise as he faced the portraits in the hall.

The first picture depicted Hero and Heroine, young, gap-toothed and balanced precariously on Superhero’s shoulders. Below the picture, was a crayon drawing of a dog—Heroine’s work, by the looks of it.

Villain pushed himself off the wall, passing more portraits: all joyful faces and embraces. Another drawing. A picture of the family dog. Stick figures. Finger paintings.

Villain rounded another corner and almost bumped into a shelf full of Sidekick’s elementary pottery class projects. Cursing, he tripped backwards, back into the hall, and startled as hand closed around his shoulder.

“[Vigilante].”

Superhero. Of course, it’s Superhero.

“I’m sorry. Just forgot about an assignment,” Villain blurted, twisting out of Superhero’s grip to face the man, “I’m pretty sure it’s due at 10 instead midnight because it’s that one teacher that—well, yeah that teacher, so I’ve got to go.”

Villain’s voice petered off as Superhero stared down at him. He opened his mouth, then closed it as his throat and chest gave that tell tale squeeze. Oh god. Here? He couldn’t.

No way.

“Okay,” Superhero nodded, though the soft slouch of his brow told Villain that his lie had been seen through, “could you wait a moment though? Sidekick made dessert. I can pack you a container before you go.”

Villain nodded and held his breath until Superhero sighed and walked down the hall.

He fell back into the wall and blinked back the stinging in his eyes, but his vision blurred anew as he stared at the picture Superhero had previously blocked. Villain recognized the place—the bench outside the exam center—and Hero, Heroine and Sidekick were all squeezed onto it. And behind them, stood Superhero and himself.

He looked for a pattern in the wall and found purple paisley.

Villain laughed.

He palmed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, but choked as Superhero’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. Plastic clattered and Vigilante was tugged, coughing and spluttering, into Superhero’s arms, his cheek smushed against threadbare plaid.

Villain slackened and Superhero held him up as he caught his breath.

After a stretch of time, Superhero drew back his arms and Villain swayed, rubbing the tack away from his eyes.

Superhero pushed the plastic food container to his chest and clasped his shoulder. “You can take this and go, if you want, but you’re welcome to stay and finish dinner. I’m sure the others would appreciate you staying.”

Cradling the container, Villain glanced toward the dining room. Sidekick peeked out the doorway and Villain nearly dropped the container in favor of shielding his face, but he looked toward Superhero instead, and then toward the picture over his shoulder.

“Are you sure?”

Superhero pushed him forward.

[saturnsag3]

now that they’re in a good place can you write will asking mack to be his boyfriend pleaseeee

Terms and Conditions May Apply - will smith x macklin celebrini

part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here

wc: 878

Two months.

Nine dates.

Thirteen and a half kisses (the half one was interrupted by Mack sneezing).

Still—no label.

Which was fine.

Totally fine.

Except Will was spiraling.

“I just don’t want to screw it up,” he muttered, pacing back and forth in Ekky’s dorm room, while Ekky lay on his bed surrounded by open bags of chips and barely listening. “Like—I don’t want to assume that he’s on the same page as me.”

“You brought the man tea when he was sick and watched  To All The Boys: P.S. I Still Love You without flinching,” Ekky replied, mouth half full of Doritos. “Dude. He feels the same— or on the same page— whatever shit you’re on about.”

Will groaned. “It’s different this time. It’s not like before. I seriously fucked it up back then. I didn’t say what I meant, I pulled back, I made him feel—less.”

Ekky sat up, actually focused now. “But you’re not doing that now, right?”

“No,” Will said quickly. “I’m trying. I’m here. I check in, I give him space, I don’t push—”

“But?”

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “I want more. I want to be able to call him mine. But I know he’s still healing. Even if he doesn’t say it out loud, I can see it.”

Ekky nodded slowly. “So, ask. But ask like it’s a question, not a requirement.”

Will blinked. “That... actually made sense.”

“I have my moments,” Ekky said, already going back to his chips. “Also, you better make it cute. Or I’ll make sure he says no.” 

Will smirked. “Oh, it’s gonna be disgustingly cute.”

—

Macklin knew something was up the second he walked onto the campus quad and saw a trail of fairy lights.

And Ekky.

Holding a cardboard sign that said:

“NO, YOU’RE NOT IN TROUBLE. KEEP GOING.”

Mack frowned. “Ekky?”

Ekky winked. “Trust the process.”

Mack wore a confused look but followed the lights down a path behind the art building. More signs appeared as he walked:

“REMEMBER DATE THREE?”

“DOUBLE DATE WITH HARPER AND ELI.”

Mack huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

Another sign followed:

“SHE THREATENED ME WITH A SMILE.” “YOU SMILED TOO. I’M STILL CONFUSED.”

He was smiling now too. He couldn’t help it.

Then—music. Their playlist, the one Will had made with titles like Songs to Stare at You By. And Will. Standing beneath a strung-up canopy of lights, holding a giant cookie cake shaped like a pizza.

Mack stopped. “What in the rom-com hell is this?”

Will held up the cake. In frosting, it read:

“BOYFRIEND?”

“I had to choose between this and a flash mob,” Will said. “You’re welcome.”

Mack covered his face for a second, laughing. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“I know,” Will said easily. “But I’m your dumbass. If you want me.”

Mack looked at him then. He stared at the nervous tilt of Will’s shoulders, the soft tremble of his hands. How carefully he was standing, like even now—especially now—he didn’t want to scare Mack off.

“I don’t want to rush you,” Will added quickly. “I know you’re still figuring stuff out. And I don’t want a title if it feels like pressure, or a countdown, or like I’m trying to cover up everything I did to you from before.”

Mack stepped forward.

Will went still.

“But I do want to be yours,” Will finished, quietly. “On your terms. If you’re ready.”

Mack blinked fast.

Then slower.

Then stepped close enough that the cookie cake almost got squished between them. He rested his forehead lightly against Will’s.

“You’re so annoying sometimes,” he whispered.

Will smiled, breath hitching. “That’s.. not a no.”

“It’s a yes,” Mack said, voice thick. “Of course it’s a yes.”

Will just stared at him, smiling like he couldn’t believe it was real. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mack whispered. “You’re mine. Officially.”

They kissed. Warm, sure, and slow.

From behind the bushes, Ekky’s voice yelled, “FUCKING FINALLY!”

Will groaned into Mack’s shoulder. “I told him not to follow us.”

Mack laughed. “Wanna make-out to piss him off?”

Will smiled right back. ���Gladly” 

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i’m thinking of making a master list for all of my works soon but i’m not sure what to name this series so if you guys have any suggestions please send, hope you enjoyed and my asks are always open!!!

[tordoise-x3]

Just my drawigs from today cuz I haven’t been finishing anything 😞

[sharkieboi]

just finished the Broken Earth trilogy and ngl I’m never gonna be the same

[theenderwalker]

moved into my new apartment yesterday. made the foam base for my next fursuit today. let’s fuckin go

[softaestluv]

prev. | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ | angst a lil, fwb, jealousy, toxic Simon, possessive sex

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but your apartment is the last place he visits before being sent off on an assignment.

‘Jus’ need somethin’ to tide me over, yeah dove?’

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but when he’s away, his rugged and calloused hands don’t feel like yours, can’t get off unless he pictures you.

Above him. Below him. On your knees. On your back. In your mouth. Buried in your cunt.

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but your apartment is the first place he visits when the mission is finished, doesn’t even bother going home.

And you answer, despite it being three in the morning.

“There’s my girl.” He breathes. Relieved. Dropping his bags on the floor before lunging forward to cup your face in his palms.

The claim makes you whine quietly, digging your fingertips into his wrists, arching on your tippy toes to meet his lips halfway. It’s ravenous, leaves your breath ragged, and lips thrumming with swelling blood.

He hoists you in his arms, burrowing his hands under your thighs and ass, pinching the flesh so hard it’ll bruise, but he can’t help it. He’s greedy. Selfish. Hasn’t quite coaxed himself down from the harsh realities of being ‘Ghost.’

“Ah—Simon,” You whimper, huffing hot air against his lips, “You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry, baby,” He smooths his hands, petting the backs of your thighs, “I just-”

The ‘missed you’ dies on his tongue, stops it from rolling off and filling the empty space between the two of you, but you know.

That night when he asks you to repeat him, tell him you’re all his, you don’t respond like usual. He tries his best to coax it out of your pretty lips orgasm after orgasm because he needs to hear it, but you don’t give him the pleasure.

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, so he has no other option but to accept it because you’re not his. The lack of acknowledgment eats at his skin, brutal talons gnawing at his flesh when you slowly stop responding to his texts.

Shows up at your doorstep anyway because you don’t get to tell him when this stops. When you answer the door, you’re all dolled up, a tight little skirt hugging your figure, lip gloss smeared on your lips like you have somewhere to be other than on his cock.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, glaring at him, “I’m busy.”

“With what?”

You frown, “I have a date.”

He snorts, pushing past you, making a show of taking off his boots and placing them next to yours, has no intention of leaving.

“Simon,” You sigh, closing the door behind you, “I don’t have time for this right now. He’ll be here any minute.”

The statement alone pinches his temples with irritation, but that’s when he sees it, one small hickey adorned on your neck, just below your ear. His vision narrows, tunneling red, nudging you against the wall with one swift movement, tilting your jaw to get a better look at it.

“The fuck is this?” He snarls, runs his thumb over the bruise, and makes your breath hitch slightly.

“Nothing.” You mutter quietly.

“Your little date give you this? Huh?” He grits through clenched teeth, grip tightening on your jaw, drawing dimples in your skin.

“None of your business.” You spit back, but it’s far too gentle to have any real bite like it always does with him, pup with baby canines.

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but he seethes at the idea of another man inside of you, another man marking you as theirs when you’re his.

Sinks his teeth around the stupid mark, dragging sharp fangs against your delicate flesh, and sucks the skin viciously. Covers the ugly bruise with his own claim.

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but he presses you right up against your front door, so your date can hear him fucking you in two when he comes to pick you up.

‘Can yer little boyfriend fuck you like this? Huh, baby? Did he know jus’ how you like it?’

Fucks you messy and pretty, until your cheeks are tear-stained and your breaths are wrecked, hiccuping over your moans that’s he’s so mean, so cruel, asking you to say you’re his when he doesn’t even have the courage to say he missed you.

‘Be a good girl f’me, yeah? Tell me you’re all mine.��

And when you do finally say it, he carries you to your bed, fucks you slow and deliberate like he always does, like he really means it, and whispers the words against your skin.

@bbygirl9 @ailanbutterfly @amberbalcom14 @h0lydrag0ns

[maskedbyghost]

You and Simon aren’t together. Never have been. Never talked about it, never even thought about it.

You just click. You always have. It started as a mission thing—paired up for some op because Price figured you worked well together, and then it just… stuck. You got each other in ways that didn’t need explaining. You liked the same things, moved the same way, anticipated each other’s actions before they happened. You didn’t have to tell him what you needed in the field, and he never had to ask you to cover him. It was easy. Comfortable. The kind of thing that felt natural before you even noticed it happening.

And then it bled into everything else. Eating together. Training together. Sitting next to each other on long flights, in debriefs, in the rare downtime you got between missions. It was never planned, never discussed. Just a thing that happened, like muscle memory. If you were in a room, Simon was there too, and if he wasn’t, he was on his way.

The others noticed, of course. Soap especially. He was the loudest about it, but even Gaz had taken to shooting you both pointed looks when you showed up somewhere at the same time, or when you answered Simon’s half-formed thoughts like you knew what he was going to say before he said it.

Which, honestly, you usually did.

It all comes to a head one evening, the lot of you gathered in one of the common rooms, half-done with the day but not quite ready to call it a night. You and Simon are on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, idly watching something on the TV while Soap, sitting across from you both, groans into his hands.

“You two make me sick.”

You blink at him. “We’re literally just sitting here.”

“That’s the problem!” Soap gestures wildly. “You do everything together. You finish each other’s bloody sentences. You know what the other is thinking. And you’re just—what? Friends?” He scoffs. “Aye, and I’m the Queen of England.”

Simon leans back, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t think you’ve got the legs for a crown, mate.”

Gaz snorts. Price, watching from his spot near the door, only shakes his head like he’s seen this conversation play out a hundred times before. (He has.)

Soap ignores them, pointing a finger between you and Simon like he’s solving some grand mystery. “There’s only one thing you haven’t done,” he declares. “You just need to kiss. That’s it. Only thing missing.”

Silence.

You turn your head. Simon is already looking at you.

There’s nothing in his expression that gives anything away—no smirk, no challenge, no humor in his eyes. He’s just watching you, waiting. And then, with a tiny shrug, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s short, unhurried. Just a press of his lips against yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When he pulls back, his eyes are still on you, searching.

You don’t react. Not outwardly, anyway. You can feel Soap’s disbelief burning into the side of your face, hear the noise he makes—the strangled mix between a gasp and an outraged protest—but you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you look back at Simon, forcing yourself to stay still even as your heart does something stupid in your chest.

Because, sure, maybe this was just to mess with Soap. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was a joke.

But it didn’t feel like one.

Simon smirks and leans back, turning his attention back to the TV like nothing happened. “Happy now?”

Soap looks like he’s reconsidering every life decision that led him to this moment. “What the fuck?”

—

Later, when Simon walks you back to your room, he’s quieter than usual. His hands are in his pockets, his head tilted down slightly like he’s working through something in his mind.

“I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” he says after a beat. “Didn’t mean—well, didn’t want you to think it was—”

He stops, exhales sharply through his nose. “Just don’t want you to be mad.”

You glance at him. “I’m not mad.”

He nods, but his mouth pulls into something uncertain, like he doesn’t believe you. “Good. That’s—good.”

You reach your door and turn to face him fully. He’s still looking at you, his usual easy confidence nowhere to be found. And it’s funny, really, how the thought of kissing you in front of everyone hadn’t made him hesitate, but now? Now, he’s hesitating. Now, he’s thinking too hard about it. About you.

So before he can say anything else, you push up onto your toes and kiss him.

It’s quick, barely a breath between you before you pull back, but the impact is immediate. Simon’s lips part slightly, his brows drawing together like he can’t quite process what just happened.

You step back, hand on your door handle, and give him a small nod. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Then you slip inside, shutting the door behind you, leaving him standing there in the hallway, staring at the empty space where you just were.

And for once, Simon doesn’t have a single thing to say.

----------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @ghostslollipop @kylies-love-letter

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon, who swears he is perfectly fine and capable of doing everything himself. But it doesn’t really matter what he thinks says because Price sees differently. He sees the way Simon’s hands shake and how he’s started fidgeting when he’s never done that in the past, he can see Simon’s right side, the side that was crushed under rubble during an attack, he sees it shake and almost falter every time Simon puts even a little bit to much weight on it, but what worry’s Price the most is when Simon zones out and stops paying attention to his surroundings or whatever he’s doing. Not to mention now Simon has to go back and live in civilization, when all he’s known is military life since he was still a teen.

So although Simon claims he’s fine, Price gets him live-in-help, you. You’ve been with him the past week and although he rarely talks you’ve learned a few things. The blinds always need to be fully open unless he’s sleeping, he needs to be able to see what’s happening but it’ll keep him up when he’s trying to sleep, so they close at night. He gets very tense when he can’t see your hands, it hurts you a little to know he doesn’t trust you but you understand. He can't cook at all, unless you prepare food for him he’ll only eat a prepackaged dinner nothing else, of course that isn't healthy so you've started fixing him both breakfast and lunch which he accepts with a grunt but he doesn’t eat till you’ve started. He never takes off his mask around you unless he's eating and even still only up to his nose. Lastly you've noticed something always sparked in his eyes when you called him Simon, you haven't been able to figure out what it is so instead of risking offending him or something, you've stuck to calling him Ghost.

Price chose you for two reasons, you were quite, something he thought Simon would like, he was very wrong. It’s probably the oddest thing about him, he doesn’t like when you're super quiet you've learned it cause he doesn’t know where you are or what you’re planning the other reason is Price hired you is because you were a military nurse for quite a bit so you would always be there for Simon. This was something Simon actually did like it meant he didn’t have to leave his flat just to see a doctor, what he didn’t think about though was the cut and bruise on his face that he would have to remove his balaclava for.

“Okay Ghost” you paused not sure how he would react to having to take his mask off “I-i need you to remove your mask for me please” almost immediately he grunted out a why “because you have a cut and bruise on your face and I need to make sure it’s healing properly” Simon stilled completely for a few seconds before he slowly pulled the balaclava completely off. You took a second looking over his entire face before you brought your hand up inspecting the area “your bruise is completely gone” you whispered slightly surprised it had only been a week, you went to write it down but the moment your hand left his face he spoke up “it’s still ere, jus can’t see it” carefully your brought you hand back to his face to carefully push on his check “does that hurt” “bit” was all he grunted out, you hummed to yourself as you removed your hand and started writing, but had you been looking at him you would have seen the almost pout gracing his face.

Once you finally looked back up, placing your hand on his face “okay let’s finish this quickly” you say looking over his scar “I know I’m not that pretty but you ain’t gotta rush” he said in the quietest voice. You looked up into his eyes quickly only to find them looking back at you with what you could only describe as curiosity mixed with need “Gh-Simon that’s not what I meant, your very beautiful I just thought you wouldn't want me touching or looking at your face any more since you always hide it behind that mask” he never replied to you, just kept staring with that look in his eyes. Finally you peeled your eyes away, finished writing whatever you needed to in your book then you got up and walked away “I’m gonna fix us some lunch, okay Simon?” you called from in the kitchen already, and that’s when Simon managed to place the feeling he had been having every time he saw you. He liked you, he had a crush, a crush! “Simon?” You called again “yeah okay” he called back, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up, not when he thinks he might have found a new purpose in life.

pt 2 here