#just to be perfect for a second before you crash

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ HIGH FASHION ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA As Your Roomate

★ Commissioner: @mrs-potatocat

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You had no idea how renting worked in Dreamland. You tried to offer ENA some rocks and a torn “coupon” for housing payment. She accepted with a businesslike handshake, then later taped the rocks to the ceiling as “mood crystals.”

☆ ENA never asked if you wanted to be roommates. She just appeared beside you one day, pointed at a wobbly house that materialized on the shore, and said, “Welcome to our entrepreneurial headquarters. Rent’s due in emotional labor.”

☆ She has a business chalkboard in the kitchen. Most mornings you wake up to her jotting things like “Goal: Catch a fish the size of despair” or “Revenue stream: sell bottled sighs.” You pretend you know what’s happening.

☆ She casually intrudes into your personal space without warning. Like popping up from your laundry hamper or pushing through your bedroom window with a megaphone: “Good morning! Q1 goals are calling!”

☆ Her moods flick like a switch. Sometimes she’ll gently ask if you want coffee with a perfect smile, and two seconds later she’s screaming into the fridge about “THE DEATH OF EGG SUPPLY CHAINS!!!”

☆ You often find her in bizarre states of “relaxation.” One time she sat criss-cross applesauce inside the washing machine because “I need to rotate my anxieties evenly.”

☆ Nighttime is when she gets weirdly vulnerable. Laying on the couch, hat slipping off her head, murmuring to herself things like “Some days… I wish I was just static noise,” before immediately snapping back to pitch you a “start-up idea.”

☆ Despite her chaos, she’s quietly protective. If any other Dreamland entity so much as looks at you funny, ENA’s already intercepting with a sales-pitch so aggressive it borders on threat: “Would you like to invest in a lifetime supply of BACK OFF?”

☆ Sharing the same roof means learning her tics. Like how her Meanie side can’t fall asleep unless the window is cracked open exactly 2.3 inches, or how her red side won’t eat unless you pretend it’s “closing a business deal” over toast.

☆ Slowly, it starts feeling less like survival and more like home. Not because the house is stable (it isn’t) or because ENA is easy to live with (she’s not), but because somehow… you fit here. Like two missing puzzle pieces accidentally jammed into the wrong box.

When You And ENA Are Dating:

☆ ENA immediately made a PowerPoint presentation about it. Titled: “Reasons Why Dating Me is a Fiscal and Emotional Investment.” It included bullet points like ‘frequent hugs’ and ‘unlicensed emotional support during catastrophic events.’

☆ She keeps treating “dates” like business trips. “Thank you for accompanying me on this critical mission to the ice cream stand,” she’ll say while holding your hand like it’s a formal contract.

☆ Her Meanie side gets violently flustered when you’re affectionate. The moment you kiss her cheek, she’s yelling: “STOCKS ARE CRASHING!!! MY WALLS ARE DOWN! MY WALLS ARE DOWN!!!” (while secretly melting.)

☆ At home, she’s unbearably clingy in the softest way. Following you from room to room under the pretense of “supervising home operations,” but really just wanting to lean her sharp shoulder against yours.

☆ She accidentally made you matching “Employee of the Month” badges. (“You’re the best co-founder of this messy heart company,” she said, pressing it onto your chest while you tried not to cry.)

☆ Arguments are surreal and stupidly sweet. You’ll be bickering about who left a portal open in the laundry room again, only for ENA to suddenly grab your hand mid-shout and mutter: “I’m only mad because if you fell into the sky, I’d miss you.”

☆ Her Salesperson side plans “business retreats” that are just beach days. Setting up towels like “negotiation tables” and trying to teach you how to build a sandcastle shaped like a quarterly report.

☆ Her Meanie side has a special nickname for you now. She only uses it when she’s feeling too much at once. (Something stupidly intense like “Captain Foolheart” or “Top-Grade Dreamlander.”)

☆ Some nights, you both sit on the roof together. ENA lets her hat fall to her lap, and you both watch the neon moons turn inside out. She tells you, in a voice heavy with the red side’s warmth, “I never thought I’d find someone who understands the wrong parts of me too.”

☆ Living together used to feel like a gamble. Now, it feels inevitable. Like you were both tossed into existence not to be lonely chaos, but to be…each other’s slightly broken, slightly brilliant, slightly ridiculous home.

[ilovejb]

| Lip Graffiti |

Pairings : Ingrid Engen x female!reader

Summary : Ingrid and reader can’t control themselves leaving a mark and a lot of teasing

Warnings : 18+,detailed smut so MDNI, hickeys and lots of teasing

Authors note : 2 k word count

You loved early mornings with Ingrid.

The way the world was still half-asleep, the way she smiled at you when nobody else was watching — it made everything feel like it belonged just to the two of you.

You got to the Barcelona training ground early, dropping your bag on the bench, already buzzing with the secret plan in your head.

When Ingrid walked in — hair a little messy from sleep, hoodie loose around her frame — you nearly lost it.

She smiled, soft and unsuspecting, and that was it.

You closed the distance in a few strides, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in.

“Morning,” you murmured against her lips.

Her breath hitched, but she kissed you back instantly, hands finding your hoodie, gripping you close.

The locker room was cold, but her mouth was hot, insistent, urgent. You pressed her back against the lockers, relishing the soft sound she made as her body arched toward you.

The kisses turned deeper, more desperate.

You nipped at her bottom lip, grinning when she gasped, and without even thinking, you dipped your head to her neck.

She tilted her head automatically, giving you full access.

You bit down gently at first, sucking at her skin, tasting the faint salt of her, feeling her body twitch under your hands. She whimpered — a soft, needy sound — and you couldn’t help yourself.

You sucked harder, knowing it would leave a mark.

When you finally pulled back, there was a dark red bruise blooming just under her jaw.

“Perfect,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over it.

Ingrid was still catching her breath when the locker room door creaked open.

Both of you froze.

Standing there, looking far too amused, was Alexia Putellas.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, a smug grin spreading across her face.

Before you could even step away from Ingrid, Esmee leaned around the door, giggling. “Did Ingrid get attacked?”

Ingrid groaned, hiding her face in her hands, while you bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

The teasing didn’t stop there.

During training, Frido kept nudging Ingrid. “New strategy? Distract the opponents with love bites?”

Pina shouted across the pitch, “At least let her recover before the next match!”

You and Ingrid exchanged looks — half mortified, half thrilled.

Every time you caught her gaze, you saw the smirk she tried to hide.

She liked it. She loved it.

Later, after training, Alexia handed you both matching shirts she somehow had made overnight. Ingrid’s said:

“PROPERTY OF Y/N”

and yours said:

“Ingrid’s #1 Fan”

Without missing a beat, Ingrid yanked hers on and struck a pose like she owned the world.

You stared at her — cocky, beautiful, marked — and your body reacted instantly.

She caught you looking and raised an eyebrow, smirking in a way that sent heat pooling between your legs.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” she mouthed at you.

And oh god, you couldn’t wait.

⸻

That Night

The second the apartment door closed behind you, Ingrid shoved you hard against it, her mouth crashing into yours.

“You think you can leave marks on me and get away with it?” she growled against your lips.

You whimpered into her mouth, desperate for more.

But she wasn’t gentle.

Her hands found your hoodie, yanking it over your head roughly, her nails scraping down your sides. She tugged your shirt up and off, leaving you in just your sports bra.

She attacked your neck with kisses and bites, finding your pulse point immediately.

You gasped, clutching at her shoulders, your hips bucking instinctively against her thigh pressed between your legs.

“You like getting caught,” she muttered, biting down just above your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a deep, purple bruise.

“Fuck—” you gasped, threading your fingers through her hair, holding her close.

Ingrid slid her hands into your leggings, cupping your ass, grinding you down against her thigh.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” she whispered, voice dark with pride.

You couldn’t even speak — just nodded frantically, moving against her, feeling the delicious pressure building low in your belly.

She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look her in the eye.

“Say it,” she demanded.

“I want you,” you gasped. “Please.”

That was all she needed.

She pushed you backward until you hit the couch, making you sit down before peeling your leggings and underwear down in one rough move.

You watched her, heart hammering, as she knelt between your thighs, kissing up your inner thighs slowly, teasingly, making you whimper and squirm.

And then she finally licked a broad stripe up your center.

You choked on a moan, head falling back against the cushions.

Her tongue moved expertly, slow circles around your clit before flattening against it, sucking just hard enough to make your toes curl.

One of her hands came up, sliding two fingers inside you without warning.

You cried out, hips bucking, clutching at her hair.

“So desperate,” she murmured, tongue flicking faster. “All for me.”

She fucked you with her fingers hard and fast, curling them perfectly to hit that spot that made your vision blur.

Her mouth never left your clit, relentless and skilled, building the pressure inside you impossibly high.

You came with a ragged scream, thighs clenching around her head, body shaking with pleasure.

But she didn’t stop.

She slowed down just a little, dragging your orgasm out, licking you through it until you were begging — incoherent, wrecked.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were shiny with you.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking proudly.

“Mine,” she said simply.

You could barely move as she climbed onto the couch, pulling you into her lap, kissing you hungrily.

And god, you could taste yourself on her tongue.

The night blurred after that — kisses, touches, skin against skin, more orgasms that left you sobbing her name into the darkness.

You fell asleep tangled in each other, bruised and claimed and blissfully happy.

⸻

The Next Morning — Training

You stupidly thought maybe you could hide it.

Both of you wore hoodies zipped up to your throats, sunglasses even though it was cloudy.

But the second you stepped into the locker room, the team pounced.

Mapi burst out laughing immediately. “Dios mío, they didn’t sleep! They fucked all night!”

Aitana clutched her chest dramatically. “Look at them! Matching hickeys like battle scars!”

Even Alexia, ever the captain, just shook her head fondly. “You two are menaces.”

Ingrid, the traitor, just grinned and yanked her hoodie down to fully reveal the huge purple hickey blooming on her throat.

The locker room exploded in screams and laughter.

You tried to stay hidden, face burning —

but Ingrid leaned in, mouth brushing your ear.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, voice dark and promising. “Tonight, we’re making more.”

You shivered, knowing you were absolutely screwed — in the best way possible.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[nvrngl]

˚ · .˚ ༘ 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒕

synopsis. you run into dean while working on a case.

pairing. supernatural﹢ dean winchester x hunter!reader ﹢ smut

wordcount. 1.1K

warnings. nsfw ! alcohol, too much flirting, semi-public sex, unprotected sex.

You clock him the second you walk into the bar.

It’s not just the leather jacket or the stupidly confident sprawl of his legs beneath the sticky table. It’s the way his eyes cut across the room like a weapon, scanning. Like yours. Like he’s hunting too.

You pretend not to notice. Order a whiskey. Neat. The bartender raises a brow but doesn’t argue.

The bar smells like beer and regret. One guy’s already passed out on the pool table. Perfect place for a cursed object to be changing hands. You’re here for the hex bag that’s been killing truckers up and down the state.

He’s probably here for the same thing.

You settle into the stool, sip your drink, and resist the urge to turn around and stare.

Doesn’t work.

Because suddenly, he’s beside you, leaning against the bar like he owns it.

“Hunter?” he says, low, amused.

You arch a brow. “You don’t exactly scream civilian.”

His smile kicks up lazy and crooked, full of trouble. “Dean.”

Of course he’s Dean. You’d know that face anywhere—even if you’d never met him before. Rumors. Stories. That smile.

“(Y/N),” you reply, taking another sip. “You here for the hex bag or just to annoy me?”

“Both,” he says, and he means it.

You snort, lips brushing the rim of your glass. “You always this charming?”

“No,” he says. “Usually I’m worse.”

You don’t flirt when you're working. Usually. But Dean Winchester is the kind of problem you want to make worse before you fix it. That look in his eye? That hungry edge under the smartass? You’ve met enough bad men to know what good trouble feels like.

He buys you a drink. You let him.

Then another. You pretend it’s for information-gathering. For the case.

But you both know better.

It starts as a game. The slow lean of his shoulder into yours. The way his hand brushes your thigh like he’s not even trying to hide it. He tells you about the hex bag—how he’s tracking it to some lowlife in the back booth, fourth beer in, about to head home with a “gift” for his wife.

You tell him about how you have already set a trap for the witch.

He looks at you like he’s impressed and turned on, and you’re too buzzed to care which one wins out first.

“You always work solo?” he asks.

“I like the quiet.”

“Bet you moan loud, though.”

You choke on your drink. He grins like it’s his birthday.

“Wow,” you cough. “Real smooth.”

“I can be,” he says, voice low, like he’s already picturing it.

There’s heat curling between your thighs now. You hate him for it. You love it.

One more drink. One more dare in his eyes. One more glance at that mouth and you know exactly how the night’s gonna end.

The bar’s too crowded. The alley’s too gross.

But the Impala? Oh yeah.

You don’t even make it ten feet from the bar before he’s pushing you up against the passenger door, mouth crashing onto yours like he’s been dying for it all night.

It’s not romantic. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate. Tongues and teeth and hands fumbling at layers of leather and denim. His knee slots between your legs and grinds just right, and you whimper before you can stop yourself.

“God,” he groans against your neck, “you sound even better than I imagined.”

You grip the back of his shirt and drag him into the car.

The moment you land on the backseat, it’s chaos.

He’s everywhere.

Mouth on your throat, your collarbone, your breasts. Hands unzipping, tugging, lifting. You don’t even remember your boots coming off. Your jeans hit the floorboard and his tongue hits your skin and it’s all heat and sweat and filthy little moans.

“Dean—fuck—”

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth down your stomach. “Don’t wanna give the whole lot a free show.”

“Then stop doing things that make me wanna scream,” you snap.

He grins. “No promises.”

His mouth moves lower, tongue sliding between your thighs like he’s starving. He groans when he tastes you—groans, like the fucking sound of it’s enough to undo him.

And you?

You’re seeing stars.

Your fingers claw at the seat, legs shaking, breath catching as he circles your clit with slow, devastating precision.

“Jesus Christ—Dean—”

He pulls back just enough to smirk. “Still like the quiet, huh?”

“Shut up,” you gasp.

He chuckles and dives back in. Your hips buck against him like they’ve got a mind of their own. He holds you down, firm hands on your thighs, tongue working you open like he’s been dreaming about this for years.

You come hard—loud, messy, clenching around nothing and sobbing his name like a prayer.

And he doesn’t stop.

“Oh my God—”

He only lets you breathe when he finally crawls up your body, kissing you like he needs to taste your moans in his mouth.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he pants, lining himself up. “You want it, sweetheart?”

“Dean—”

“Say it.”

Your nails dig into his back. “I want it. I need it. Fuck me already—”

He thrusts in.

Your head snaps back with a cry. He fills you deep, thick and hot and perfect. You cling to him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, every breath hitching as he starts to move.

Hard. Deep. Rhythmic.

The Impala rocks under you. The windows fog up. His name falls from your lips like a mantra, your whole body wound tight, strung out, ruined.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, fucking into you like he’s trying to leave bruises. “So tight, so wet—fuck—been thinking about this since the second I saw you.”

You gasp against his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him growl.

He slams into you faster, sweat dripping from his jaw, lips crashing into yours like he can’t get close enough. His hand slides between you, rubbing circles over your clit until your vision blacks out.

You come again—loud, shaking, writhing beneath him.

That’s all it takes.

Dean curses, slamming deep one last time before he groans your name and spills inside you, buried to the hilt, panting like he’s just fought off a demon with his bare hands.

The car goes still.

You’re both wrecked.

Boneless.

You don’t even open your eyes as he slumps on top of you, breath warm against your ear.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles.

You laugh, breathless, hair stuck to your forehead. “That was... yeah. Wow.”

“Top three,” he admits, nuzzling into your neck.

You snort. “Three?”

“Gotta leave room for improvement.”

You smack his shoulder.

He pulls back enough to look at you. His smile’s softer now, lazy and stupidly satisfied.

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ navigation : all works ; guidelines ; let's be friends .ᐟ

[i2rizz]

Undercover Hearts Pt.2

Warning/tags:(NSFW / MDNI)(crazy saying this as a minor myself) / Dead Dove Do Not Eat / Explicit Language and Smut Warnings: Unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation, praise, rough sex, manhandling, hair pulling, light choking, marking/biting, creampie, slight breeding kink vibes, Dante being a filthy DOMINANT bastard, reader getting absolutely ruined)

The mission was supposed to be quick.

Quick in, quick out.

Dante had told you that before he kicked the rusty iron of the VIP club room off its hinges with a lazy smirk, his sword resting on his shoulder like a casual extension of his ego.

But nothing with Dante was ever quick.

Especially not when it came to you.

The second you two were alone—blood still drying on the cracked marble floor, the headless bodies of demons(turns out there were more demons) slumped against the wall—he had you pinned.

His mouth crashed against yours, desperate, devouring.

Gloved hands ripped at your clothes with zero patience, dragging leather and bloodstained fabric off your body until you stood bare and trembling under the neon lights of the nightclub.

"You drive me fuckin’ insane, sweetheart" Dante growled against your lips, voice thick with hunger, grinding the hard line of his cock against your soaking heat through his jeans. "All night, watchin' you, covered in blood, covered in me... fuck, I can't—"

You whined, clutching his jacket, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders like you'd fall apart without him.

You would.

He spun you roughly, shoving you face-first against the nearest wall.

One large hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other snaked down to cup the throbbing between your legs.

"So fuckin' wet for me already, huh? Knew you were a needy little slut" he purred against the shell of your ear, breath hot and filthy.

You gasped as his fingers slipped through your folds, teasing, circling, but never giving you enough.

Grinding helplessly back against him, you begged under your breath—words you couldn't even understand, broken whimpers of please, Dante, please—

He chuckled darkly.

"Yeah? You gonna beg real pretty for it, princess? C'mon, lemme hear you"

You barely managed to choke it out, shameless, desperate, all pride long gone:

"Please, Dante, fuck me—need you—need you so bad—"

That was all he needed.

You heard the harsh drag of his zipper, the heavy thud of his jeans dropping, and then he was there—thick, hot, leaking precum as he ran his cock between your soaked folds.

Taunting you.

Ruining you.

"Open up for me, baby," he growled low, lining himself up. "Gonna wreck this sweet little pussy."

The first thrust was brutal.

Full length, full force, bottoming out inside you with a choked snarl into your neck.

You screamed—more from the shock, the stretch, than the pain—and he didn't slow down.

Not even a little.

"Take it" he snarled, hips slamming into you with reckless, punishing rhythm. "Take every fuckin' inch, sweet stuff"

Your fingers clawed at the wall, nails cracking against it, tears blurring your vision from the sheer overwhelming pleasure.

Each thrust shoved you up the wall; the force of him pounding into you shook the floor tiles, made the expensive furniture rattle and groan.

You were fucked—

literally, mentally, physically.

And you never wanted it to end.

"You were made for this cock, weren't you?" Dante growled against your ear, hand tangling viciously in your hair, yanking your head back so he could lick and bite down your throat. "Fuckin' perfect little hole just beggin' to be filled"

You sobbed, incoherent, babbling his name like a prayer.

He dragged you down to the floor mid-thrust, never once pulling out.

Pounded into you so hard your body bounced off the tiles, cock hitting that sweet, devastating spot inside you over and over until you were a drooling, mindless mess beneath him.

"That's it, babygirl" he rasped, one hand gripping your throat lightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to own you.

"C'mon, make a mess for me. Soak this cock, sweetheart. Wanna feel you cum on me—fuckin’ ruin me"

You shattered with a scream.

Legs kicking, toes curling, body spasming uncontrollably around him.

He didn't stop.

Ruthless, Dante rode you through it, fucking you harder, faster, growling curses and praises into your skin.

"Gonna fill you up," he groaned, voice breaking, hips losing rhythm as he chased his own high. "Gonna fuckin' breed you, sweetheart—make you mine forever—fill you so deep you'll feel me for days—"

Another broken sob ripped from your throat.

You could feel it—

the hot, heavy pulsing of his cock inside you, his cum spilling deep, hot, endless.

Dante collapsed over you with a ragged groan, his weight glorious and suffocating, heart hammering against your back.

Both of you wrecked.

Sweat-drenched. Bloody. Shaking.

He didn't pull out.

Just nuzzled into your throat, muttering praises into your sweaty skin.

"Good girl. My perfect little slut. Took me so fuckin' good"

You whimpered, still twitching from aftershocks.

And he smiled—

slow, wicked, filthy.

"Round two, princess?"

"Hope you’re not tappin’ out already"

Because you knew—

with Dante,

the night was just getting started.

[purplereina11]

🏀 Based after Eleven 🏀

Chapter 8

It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything.

Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred.

It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

Mariona’s gaze flicked to Liv, like maybe she expected a lifeline. But Liv just sipped her drink, watching you carefully now, all traces of smugness gone. Maya muttered something under her breath and busied herself with rearranging the olives on her plate—clearly not wanting to get involved.

“Okay,” Mariona said cautiously, setting her glass down. “Maybe that came out wrong.”

“No, it came out loud and clear,” you said, keeping your voice even, detached—because if you didn’t, the heat building behind your ribs might crack you wide open.

She shifted in her seat, tapping her fingers against the side of her glass. “I’m not defending it. I just think… she doesn’t know how to deal with you.”

You scoffed. “What, like I’m some kind of puzzle?”

“More like… a live wire,” Maya mumbled, not looking up.

You glanced at her, but she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. The table had turned heavy now, air thick and humming with things unsaid.

Liv finally leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting in her palm. “So what’s your play then?” she asked, tone too casual to be innocent.

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean, now that I know she’s been stringing Vicky along to make me jealous?”

“Mhmm,” Liv nodded, swirling her wine.

"I've just followed and commented on Albas latest bikini post"

Mariona groaned immediately, dragging both hands down her face before burying it in her palms. “No. No no no—you didn’t. Oh, come on,” she muttered, muffled by her hands. “You did not.”

You leaned back against the booth, arms crossed, the tiniest edge of a smirk curling at your lips. “I did. Fire emoji and the one with the face is drooling and all”

Liv’s jaw actually dropped for a second before she burst out laughing. “You’re evil.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, taking a sip of your drink.

Mariona finally lifted her head, eyes wide. “Alba? Really? Of all people? You couldn’t have picked someone slightly less… personal?”

Maya looked up sharply, then blinked like she’d just caught up to the conversation. “Wait—Alba Alba? Are you serious right now? That’s her sister”

You nodded, raising your glass. “I’m aware,” you said, voice flat. “She wanted a reaction? She’s about to get one.”

Liv looked downright gleeful now. “Oh, this is gonna be so messy. I’m obsessed.”

“Please don’t encourage this,” Mariona muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face again. “Alexia’s going to see that and lose her entire mind.”

“That’s kind of the point,” you replied, voice cool. “She wants to play games? Let’s play.”

Maya shook her head. “You are poking a very emotionally unstable bear.”

“She poked first,” you said flatly. “She just didn’t expect me to poke back with claws.”

Liv raised her brows and leaned in like she was watching a car crash in slow motion—equal parts horror and fascination. “So what was the comment?”

You smiled, all teeth now. “She posted a bikini photo, her caption sun hits different lately” you dropped your phone to the table, "I commented Guess it does. Damn. Drool emoji Flame emoji"

Mariona smacked her forehead against the table with a thud. “That’s worse than I thought.”

“That’s perfect,” Liv corrected

Maya let out a long, slow exhale and leaned back. “You’re both insane.”

You didn’t disagree.

Because the game had changed now. And somewhere across the city, Alexia was probably staring at her phone, trying very hard not to throw it across the room.

--

The comment had been live for less than a couple of hours. Just enough time for you to scroll past it, toss your phone aside onto your sofa back home, and tell yourself you didn’t care. That it didn’t mean anything. Except… it did.

Because the moment you refreshed your feed and saw Alexia had viewed your story—the one you posted from dinner with Liv, Maya, and Mariona, all smiles and full glasses—it was clear she could of seen the comment too. Of course she had. It was Alba’s post. There was no not seeing it. You leaned back against the cushions, ice back on your ankle, tension thrumming just beneath your skin. You weren’t sure if you were satisfied, or anxious, or just bracing for impact.

It didn’t take long. Your phone buzzed with a text.

Alexia: Really?

Just that. No punctuation. No context. You didn’t reply right away. Let it sit. Let her squirm.

Then another.

Alexia: You’re flirting with my sister now?

You stared at it. And smiled. You tapped out a reply, slow and deliberate:

You: Not flirting. Just appreciating the view. 😏

The bubble popped up instantly, like she was ready to go off— Then it vanished. A minute later, it buzzed again.

Alexia: Don’t play games with me.

You stared at the message, pulse ticking in your jaw. The nerve. You typed without thinking.

You: Funny. I could’ve sworn that’s all you’ve been doing.

There was a long pause. You could feel her reading it, re-reading it, trying to figure out whether to respond or throw her phone.

And then—another text.

Alexia: We need to talk. In person.

You didn’t respond. You just locked your phone, tossed it on the coffee table again, and let the message hang in the air like smoke. She wanted to talk? Fine. But this time, it would be on your terms.

You didn’t answer her text. Not that night. Not the next morning. You didn’t ignore it out of spite—well, not entirely. It was more about holding the upper hand for once. About not jumping the second Alexia snapped her fingers, not folding just because she decided now was the time she wanted to talk. She’d been the one playing games. She’d been the one walking out. Let her sit in the silence for once.

You spent most of the next day with your foot elevated, rehabbing like a professional, and pretending not to check your phone every ten minutes. You weren’t waiting for her to text again.

But by early evening, as the sky turned pink through your window, your phone buzzed with a name you’d been expecting. Not a text this time. A call. Alexia. You let it ring. And ring. And then—picked up. “…Hello?”

Her voice was tight. Controlled. But not cold. “Are you home?”

You looked around your quiet apartment, tension already gathering in your chest. “Why?”

“I’m downstairs.” Of course she was.

You exhaled through your nose, pressed the bridge of it with your fingers. “You can’t keep showing up every time you don’t like something I do.”

“Then stop doing things to get a reaction,” she shot back.

You almost smiled. Almost. “Touché.”

Silence stretched on the line. Like she was pondering what you knew, then “Please just… can I come up?”

You didn’t answer. You buzzed her in. A few minutes later, there was a knock. You opened the door slowly. There she was. Hoodie. No makeup. Fire already burning in her eyes. 

She stepped in like a storm, brushing past you without waiting to be asked. “You seriously commented that on Alba’s post?” she snapped, turning back to face you as the door clicked shut.

You leaned against the frame, arms crossed. “You’re still on that?”

“Yes, I’m still on that. What the hell were you thinking?”

You laughed—sharp, tired, bitter. “Maybe I was thinking about how it felt watching you parade your ex around while pretending I don’t exist.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not what that was.”

“Oh, come on,” you snapped, stepping forward. “You didn’t want her. You just wanted to see how fast I’d react when she showed up at your door.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what is true, Alexia?” you fired back, voice rising. “That we only work when we’re naked and fucking? That this only makes sense when you’re crawling into my bed, and everything else gets swept under the rug?”

She flinched. “Don’t twist this like I’m the only one playing games.”

“Right, because you showing up every time we fight to remind me how good it is in bed—that’s not a game?”

“I didn’t come here to sleep with you,” she shot back.

“No?” you scoffed. “Then why are we shouting in my living room again? What are we even doing, Alexia?”

She stepped closer. Too close. “I don’t know!” And then—she grabbed your face and kissed you. Hard. Fierce. Like a fuse had been lit inside her. It hit you like a wave—heat, anger, heartbreak, all tangled together. Her hands were desperate, her mouth familiar and wild against yours, like if she kissed you hard enough, she could silence all the things she didn’t want to say.

But you didn’t melt this time. You pushed her back, panting, hands still gripping her wrists. “What the hell are you doing?” you demanded, heart hammering.

Alexia stood there, flushed, lips parted, chest rising and falling. And then she said, bitter and breathless, “Isn’t this what we do now? Fight. Fuck. Repeat.” The words hung between you like a slap.

You stood there, staring at her—your pulse still pounding from the kiss, from the heat of the argument, from everything. The air between you was heavy, volatile, laced with something that felt just as dangerous as it did familiar. You blinked slowly, jaw tight. Then, your voice came low. Calm—but cutting. “So you did come over to fuck.”

Alexia didn’t flinch. She looked at you square in the face, jaw set, defiant. “No.” Then she took a breath and said something that made your stomach twist.

You stepped back, finally. Put space between you and the fire still burning in her eyes. “I’m not gonna keep doing this,” you said. “I’m not gonna keep letting you walk in here like this place—and I—belong to you.”

Alexia’s shoulders tensed as you stepped back. Her jaw clenched like she was holding herself together by a thread. You could see the flicker in her eyes—anger, guilt, something else trying to break through. She glanced away for a second, just enough to give herself time to reset, and then levelled you with a look.

“So this is what we’re doing now?” she asked, her voice sharp, wounded. “Dragging my sister into this? You really think Alba deserves to get caught in your mess just because you’re pissed at me?”

You laughed again—this time quieter, rougher. “My mess? That’s rich coming from you. Don’t act like you’re suddenly the moral compass here.”

Alexia’s expression twisted. “This isn’t about morality. It’s about respect. You don’t use people like that.”

“Oh please,” you snapped. “Like you didn’t pull the same stunt with Vicky.”

She blinked, caught off guard for just a second. Then her face hardened. “That’s not the same.”

“The hell it’s not,” you said, stepping forward again, voice rising. “You didn’t give a damn about Vicky. You just wanted me to see her, to wonder, to burn. And you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Alexia scoffed, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe you were saying it. “You’re paranoid.”

You grinned, sharp and cold. “What? Didn’t think I’d figure it out?” You tilted your head slightly, letting the smugness cut through your voice. “I’m not stupid, Alexia.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. You could see the words behind her eyes, the ones she wanted to hurl but knew would do real damage. And then—there it was. That flicker of guilt again. That flash of you-caught-me-even-if-I-hate-it.

She crossed her arms tight across her chest, like she could hold it all in. “You’re twisting everything.”

“No,” you said, your tone low now, calm like before the crack of thunder. “I’m just done pretending I don’t see the games.”

Her breath hitched, barely, but enough. Enough to let you know you’d struck something real. “You think this gives you the high ground?” she asked, voice steady but glass-thin. “Using Alba to hit back at me? That doesn’t make you right. It just makes you petty.”

You shrugged, the smirk still playing at the corners of your mouth. “And you showing up uninvited, starting fights, kissing me like you’re still allowed to? That’s what—mature?”

Alexia’s jaw twitched. “I came here to talk.”

“No,” you said, walking past her now, not even looking at her. “You came here to win. Like you always do. You just didn’t expect me to stop playing.”

She didn’t follow you right away. Didn’t speak. Just stood there in the silence, like she was trying to figure out what to do now that the script had changed.

When you turned back to face her, she was staring at the floor, hands fists at her sides. “I’m not your punching bag,” you said simply. “And I’m sure as hell not your backup plan when you get bored.”

Alexia looked up then, eyes rimmed red, but the fire hadn’t left. “You think I’m bored of you?”

“I think you don’t know what the hell you want,” you said. “And I’m done paying the price for your confusion.”

There was a long pause. Just breathing. Just tension. Then Alexia said, almost too quietly, “I don’t want to lose you.”

You looked at her for a long second, heart aching against your better judgment. But your voice was firm when you answered. “You never had me”

Alexia didn’t move, but her voice came sharp, slicing through the space between you like it hurt her just to say it. “So it was just sex for you?” she asked, her tone raw, cracking at the edges. “You never considered me a friend?”

You froze. That question—of all the things she could’ve said, that one knocked the wind out of you for a second. Not because it surprised you, but because you knew how badly she needed the answer to be no.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck, eyes drifting to the wall like it would offer you a way out of this moment. But there wasn’t one. Not anymore.

“Alexia…” you started, voice low. You shook your head. “You’re not just some hookup, alright? You never were.”

“Then why do you treat me like one?” she snapped, stepping forward again. “Why does everything have to turn into this tug-of-war where we’re always trying to hurt each other more than the last time?”

“Because you started playing games with feelings,” you shot back. “Because one minute I’m the person you can’t live without here by the fucking minute and the next I’m a ghost until you get bored or lonely or jealous enough to remember I exist. Or horny enough because apparently your girlfriend can’t fuck you right”

“That’s not fair—”

“No, you’re not fair,” you cut her off. “You show up like a hurricane, wreck everything, then act surprised when I stop trying to be your friend.”

Alexia blinked, but stayed rooted. “I wasn’t trying to wreck anything. I just… I didn’t know how to be around you without wanting more.”

That hung there. Real. Vulnerable. Too late. You took a breath, slow and shaky. “And you thought dragging your ex around, sleeping with me, then ghosting, then showing up again to fight and fuck, was better than saying that?”

“I was scared,” she said quietly.

“So was I,” you admitted. “Still am. But I didn’t lie about what this meant to me. I didn’t hide behind my ex, or silence.”

Her lips parted. She looked like she might cry, but you both knew she wouldn’t let herself. That wasn’t her style. She’d storm out first. Slam a door. Set a fire. “I just wanted you to see me,” she said, almost a whisper.

You met her eyes. “I always did. With your ex in tow. It didn’t draw me in Alexia, it pushed me away, I’m no ones second choice.”

The silence that followed wasn’t angry anymore. It wasn’t loud. It was tired. Heavy with the weight of everything said and unsaid over months, maybe years. Alexia looked around the room like it wasn’t hers to be in anymore. Like she was already halfway gone.

Then you said, barely above a breath, “Go home, I’m sure your girlfriend is wondering where you are.” And that, finally, broke something in her. Not visibly. No tears. No dramatic collapse. Just the smallest retreat in her eyes. A quiet surrender.

She walked past you, slow, like each step cost her something. At the door, she paused, her hand on the knob.

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” she said, without looking back. You didn’t answer. You’d heard it all before. She opened the door. And this time, she didn’t look back.

--

It wasn’t the call you’d hoped for.

You sat at the far end of the practice facility, ankle still taped from your last session, phone pressed to your ear, tension riding your spine like armour. Your agent’s voice filtered through the line—calm, clear, but laced with the kind of tone you’d learned to expect when news wasn’t good.

“They’re lowballing you,” she said bluntly. “Again.”

You didn’t respond right away, just stared through the tall windows as your teammates warmed up on the court. Barcelona’s logo shone from the centre, bold and clean, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like it belonged to you. “Tell me the number,” you said finally.

She did.

You clenched your jaw. “That’s less than I’m on now.”

“I know.”

You let out a bitter laugh, leaning forward to press your elbows to your knees. “After everything?”

“They’re banking on your loyalty,” she said. “On the hype around the league title. On the connection you’ve built here. But they’re not backing that belief up financially. They’re assuming you’ll stay because of the badge.”

You stared at the floor, voice low. “And the WNBA offers?”

There was a pause. Then, “Big. Real big.”

You knew what she meant. Endorsements. Cities that would roll out the red carpet. A league where you could own your moment instead of constantly proving you deserved it.

“You’d be a franchise face,” she said. “They’re not treating you like a project. They’re treating you like a star.”

The weight of it sat heavy on your chest. “I need time,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have much,” your agent replied. “Deadline’s closing in. You have to start asking yourself what you want this next phase of your career to look like—and who’s going to actually help you get there.”

The call ended, but the pressure didn’t.

You sat there, still as the court buzzed on the other side of the glass. The sound of bouncing balls and shouted plays was distant, like another world.

And you knew it wasn’t just about Barcelona anymore.

It was about whether you were willing to stay somewhere that didn’t value you the way you’d proven you deserved to be. And, whether the person who made this place feel like home... Would still be around if you chose to stay

--

You weren’t expecting to run into anyone—let alone her.

It was early evening, the kind of golden hour where the streets of the city felt a little softer around the edges, like they were pretending not to know the weight of your thoughts. You’d just ducked into a small café near the edge of Parc de la Ciutadella, hoodie up, ankle still a bit stiff, sunglasses on despite the fading sun. You weren’t hiding exactly. Just… trying not to be seen.

And that’s when you saw them.

Alba. And her mother.

You nearly turned on your heel. But Alba had already clocked you.

Her lips curled into a grin, mischievous and amused. “Well look who it is,” she said, stepping out from the café doorway, iced coffee in hand. “If it isn’t Barcelona’s most unbothered heartbreaker.”

Her mother glanced up from rummaging through her purse, then gave you a polite smile—tight, knowing. You managed an awkward wave.

“Hi, Mrs. Putellas,” you said.

Alba's mom nodded, but didn’t linger. “I’ll be inside,” she told Alba quietly, giving her a look that said behave. Then she disappeared through the café doors, leaving you alone with the one person who definitely should’ve hated you right now… but didn’t.

Alba cocked her head, sipping her drink like she wasn’t the sister of the person you’d emotionally lit on fire just a day ago. “So… the bikini comment? Really?”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Look, I didn’t—”

“I loved it,” she said with a laugh, cutting you off. “Bold. Reckless. Hot, honestly. You really had her pressed, huh?”

You blinked. “Wait… you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m definitely judging you,” she smirked. “But also? I’ve been waiting for someone to knock her off her high horse for years. You just… chose chaos. And me. Which was… weird. But iconic.”

You let out a breath of a laugh, tension easing just a bit.

But then Alba’s smile faded, just enough for the shift in tone to land.

“Look,” she said, taking a step closer, voice dropping. “I’m not here to tell you what to do with Alexia. She’s a grown woman. And stubborn as hell. But she’s not built for this kind of back-and-forth. You’re breaking her.”

You stiffened, lips pressing together.

Alba raised an eyebrow. “She hasn’t slept. Barely speaks. She’s spinning. And she’s not good at not being in control, so… you’ve got her all twisted up. Just—if you’re done, be done. If you’re not… stop dragging it out. Put her out of her misery.”

You looked down at your hands, at the cup between them, cold now. “It’s not that simple.”

Alba crossed her arms, expression unimpressed. “Why not?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing. With anything. My contract’s up, they’re lowballing me, I’ve got offers from the W, and I don’t even know what country I’m gonna be in three months from now.”

Alba’s face softened, just a little. “Okay… but what does that have to do with her?”

“I can’t settle her,” you said quietly. “Not when I don’t even know where I’m going next. Not when my life’s about to change.”

She looked at you for a long moment. Then: “So let her go.”

You blinked.

“She’s not good at waiting,” Alba said. “And she definitely isn’t good at wondering. So if you’re not gonna stay, don’t leave the door open. Don’t give her just enough to hope.”

You looked out toward the street, where the lights were just starting to flicker on. “Maybe she should just go back to Vicky,” you muttered. “She’s clearly not done with her if she’s still keeping her around.”

Alba made a face. “Vicky was a move. A dumb one. A calculated, emotionally stunted, classic Alexia move. But trust me… that ship’s already sunk.”

You looked at her again, surprised by the certainty in her tone.

She rolled her eyes. “I know my sister. And whatever you two had? Have? It’s way deeper than anything she ever had with Vicky.”

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.

Alba sighed, tilting her head. “I’m not saying you have to be with her. But you do have to stop screwing her up just to make a point. You’re not the only one hurting.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

“Then stop doing it on purpose,” she said simply.

The café door swung open behind her. Her mother poked her head out, lifting a brow. Alba waved her off.

Then she looked back at you, softer now. “You don’t have to fix her,” she said. “Just stop breaking her.”

And with that, she walked away.

Leaving you there, holding the weight of her words in your hands like something fragile and sharp all at once.

--

You didn’t plan on going to her place. You didn’t even know why your feet took you there—why, after that conversation with Alba, after every reason not to show up, you still found yourself in front of her door.

You stood there for a moment, hand hovering just above the buzzer, heart pounding with something tangled—regret, anger, desire, confusion. You were supposed to be thinking clearly. You weren’t supposed to want this again.

But then the door opened.

She must’ve seen you through the peephole, or maybe she’d just known. Like always.

Alexia stood there in sweats, hair up, no makeup, just socks on her feet and that storm still brewing behind her eyes. But it wasn’t angry this time. It was… bare.

And whatever words you thought you had prepared—about closure, about space, about not playing games anymore—they vanished.

Because the second your eyes locked, something cracked open between you like lightning splitting the air.

And then you were kissing.

Hard. Sudden. Like gravity had tilted toward each other and neither of you could fight it this time.

Her hand was in your hair, your arms pulling her closer, mouths crashing like waves after a long drought. She tugged you inside, the door slamming behind you, your backs hitting walls, fingers fisting in clothes, breathless and messy and urgent.

You didn’t speak. Not yet. Words would only get in the way.

It wasn’t about revenge or winning. Not this time.

It was about every unsaid word. Every night you didn’t text back. Every morning she woke up and didn’t find you there. It was months of silence and hurt and want and love, all bleeding into this one chaotic, desperate, perfectly ruined kiss.

She broke away just long enough to breathe, her forehead resting against yours, lips swollen, eyes wide with something that felt like surrender.

Her hands found the hem of your shirt like they’d been there a thousand times—and maybe they had. Maybe muscle memory knew what the mind was too hesitant to admit.

The kiss deepened, slowed, sharpened. Her fingers brushed under the cotton, knuckles grazing your skin with a reverence that only made the heat rise faster. She pulled back just enough to look at you, wordless question in her eyes, like she needed you to stop her if this wasn’t where it should go.

You didn’t.

So she lifted your shirt slowly, fingers brushing up your spine, and tugged it over your head. Her breath caught—just slightly—when she saw the bra beneath it. She didn’t hesitate this time. Not with you. Her fingers found the clasp, unhooked it like a secret she still remembered, and slipped the straps down your arms. It hit the floor soft.

You backed into the table behind you as she stepped forward, pressing her palms flat against your bare ribs like she was grounding herself, like the truth lived under your skin. The wood was cool against your thighs when you leaned, half-sitting on the edge, her body slotting between your legs as if the space had always been made for her.

She kissed your collarbone, slow and aching, like the apology she couldn’t quite say out loud. Then lower. Then lower.

Your hands threaded into her hair, tilting her back up to face you, foreheads brushing again.

No one spoke.

Because this wasn’t just about sex, and it never had been.

It was about everything that burned between you—words unsaid, time wasted, love that never got the chance to settle long enough to be safe.

And now, here, under dim lights and the shadow of something you couldn’t name, it all came spilling out in touch, in breath, in the way she looked at you like she still wanted every version of you, even the one that walked away.

You weren’t sure where this was going. But for now, you let yourself fall into her hands like maybe—for once—it didn’t have to be war.

Her hands were already working at your shorts, dragging her fingertips along your skin like a tease before she gave the softest instruction, “Lift for me.”

You did, and in one smooth motion, she pulled your shorts and underwear down together, dragging them past your thighs like she had all the time in the world. Your pulse thrummed, your breath shallow as she trailed kisses down your stomach. Her presence between your legs, electric. She pulled a chair up like it was a throne, sat down slow and confident, resting her hands on your knees before gently pushing them apart.

Comfortable. Controlled. Completely focused on you. What came next wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild. It was methodical.

With your eyes closed and your breath coming in short, ragged gasps in anticipation, you felt Alexia's breath on your thighs before her tongue met your skin. She took her time, kissing and licking, leaving a trail of heat and anticipation as she moved closer to where you most wanted her. Each brush of her lips made your legs quiver, your body begging for more. When she finally reached the juncture between your thighs, you felt the softness of her tongue part your folds, the wetness of her mouth pressing against your clit.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you lay back against her cool dining table, and Alexia's eyes lifted to watch you, filled with a dark hunger that matched your own. She didn't say anything, but you knew she was watching your every reaction, savouring every little sound you made. You felt her hand slide up your inner thigh, her fingers curling gently before sliding inside you. The sensation was overwhelming—the warmth of her mouth, the slickness of her tongue, the pressure of her fingers. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

You, unable to form coherent words as she began to move her tongue in slow, deliberate circles, her fingers curling and uncurling inside you. The tension grew, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke.

The tension hung in the air, thick with desire. You could only moan again, your voice lost to the pleasure she was giving you. Your moans was all the answer she needed, and she redoubled her efforts, her tongue moving faster, her fingers pressing deeper, until you were writhing on the table.

Your eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling as you felt Alexia's other hand join in, her fingers sliding over your breast in perfect rhythm with her mouth. The sensation was intense, the pleasure so sharp it was almost painful. Her eyes remained on your face, a silent conversation passing between her, and you knew she wouldn't stop until you were begging for release.

"Please," you finally whispered, the word barely audible. "Don't stop" You breathe before moaning again, "'m gonna come"

Alexia's smile grew, and she took your clit between her lips, sucking gently as her fingers danced around it, playing you like an instrument. The combination was exquisite, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of something incredible.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, and you arched your back, crying out as pleasure surged through every inch of your body. Alexia didn't miss a beat, her mouth and hands moving in sync, drawing out the sensation until it was all you could do to stay still.

As the aftershocks of your climax began to subside, Alexia, her cheeks flushed and her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, she kissed the inside of your thigh, her thumb brushing over your clit one last time before she sat back in the chair, her gaze never leaving yours.

You watched as she licked her lips, savouring the taste of you. Her hands remained on you, trailing up your legs to your hips, then up over your stomach to cup your breasts. She massaged them gently, her thumbs flicking over the hardened peaks of your nipples. Your breath hitched at the contact, the sensation still so intense.

Alexia's eyes studied you, watching your chest rise and fall as you tried to regain your breath. She leaned in closer, her hot breath fanning over your skin as she whispered, "You're so beautiful when you come."

The compliment sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, making your cheeks burn even more.

Alexia’s gaze flicked up to meet yours again, she leaned in closer, her breath tickling your skin as she kissed your inner thigh. Her hands didn’t stop moving—they slid down to your thighs, her thumbs brushing against your inner thighs before moving up again.

The tension in the room grew thick, the air charged with unspoken need.

Her eyes remained on her hands as they continued their journey, tracing the lines of your body as if committing them to memory. She watched the way your skin responded to her touch—how it goose bumped when she grazed you with her nails, how your breathing hitched when she applied just the right amount of pressure.

And all the while, still she watched you—your face, your chest, the way your stomach muscles tightened and released with each breath. She took in every little reaction, storing them away for later, like a treasure trove of secrets only she had the map to.

The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, the occasional sigh or gasp escaping your lips. It was all you could focus on—her hands, her eyes, the way she seemed to be worshipping you with every gentle caress.

She gently took your leg off her shoulder, "You want a drink?"

You swallowed as reality struck again, "..Please"

Alexia helped you sit upright, her hands lingering at your waist for just a second longer than necessary before she stepped back, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ears like she needed something to do with her hands.

“I’ve got that citrus sparkling water you like,” she said casually, already walking to the fridge, like you hadn’t just shattered all the walls between you moments ago.

You slid off the table carefully, legs still a little shaky, your pulse still a quiet thrum under your skin. You pulled your shirt back over your head slowly—mechanically—suddenly aware of how exposed you still felt, even clothed.

“Thanks,” you said, voice low.

She handed you the drink without looking at you for too long. You both avoided eye contact, like maybe eye contact would break the illusion that this was normal. That it hadn’t just been something. That there wasn’t still a conversation looming between the two of you, thick and heavy, sitting in the room like another person.

You leaned against the kitchen counter while she busied herself at the sink, rinsing out a glass she didn’t end up using.

“So,” she said after a beat, still not facing you. “You, uh… you’re still taping the ankle?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Trainer said another week of low load before I can really test it.”

“Right. Good.”

You both sipped at your drinks like they were shields. Like carbonation could fill the silence instead of words.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out.

Alexia sighed, setting her glass down on the counter. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” she said. “That we can do… that”—she gestured vaguely toward the table—“but still not know how to talk without tearing each other apart.”

You gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “Yeah. It’s almost like we’re better at pretending nothing happened.”

There was a pause. Then she nodded. “Almost.”

It wasn’t cold between you now. Just... quieter. Muted. Like a song you both knew by heart, but no longer wanted to sing out loud. You weren’t angry. She wasn’t either. But you were both tired. And maybe, a little afraid.

Alexia turned to you again, leaning her hip against the counter. “So. What now?”

You looked at her, really looked, and the answer sat heavy on your tongue, but didn’t make it past your lips.

“I don’t know,” you said instead.

You both stood there, side by side in a kitchen that had known heat and heartbreak, your shoulders just close enough to brush if one of you shifted an inch. But you didn’t. Neither of you did.

You finished your drink, set it on the counter with a soft clink, and reached for your jacket. “I should probably go,” you said.

Alexia didn’t stop you. She didn’t ask you to stay. She just nodded again, like she’d already expected that answer.

You walked to the door, hand on the knob, then paused. Glanced back. Her eyes met yours.

“Thanks,” you said.

“For what?” she asked, voice quiet.

You thought about it for a second. Then: “I don't know, the orgasm I guess”

She didn’t smile. But she didn’t look away, either. “Welcome.”

And with that, you opened the door and stepped into the night. Not sure if you were walking away… or just buying time before you turned around again.

[sturniololuvz]

Part 2. “Trying”

pt.1

It happened on a random Tuesday. No big signs, no movie-worthy moment.

Y/N had been feeling off for a few days—tired, a little nauseous—but she was so scared of getting her hopes up again that she almost didn’t take the test.

Almost.

Now she was standing in the bathroom, hand over her mouth, staring at the tiny digital screen.

Pregnant.

She didn’t move for a full minute. She just stood there, blinking like she wasn’t sure if it was real.

Then, slowly, a laugh bubbled up in her chest. Wet and shaky and disbelieving.

“Chris!” she shouted, voice breaking halfway through.

Chris came running, socks sliding across the hardwood floors. “What? What’s wrong—”

He skidded to a stop when he saw her face.

She didn’t say anything. She just held up the test with both hands.

Chris’s mouth dropped open.

Then he grabbed her so fast it knocked the air out of her lungs, spinning her around in a clumsy, laughing, crying hug.

“No way. No way. Are you serious?” he gasped, voice cracking.

She nodded into his shoulder, clinging to him.

Chris pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes shining. “Baby, we did it. We’re gonna have a baby.”

Y/N nodded again, too choked up to speak.

They stood there, grinning and crying like absolute idiots, before Chris suddenly shouted, “NICK! MATT! GET IN HERE!”

The two came crashing down the hall in a full sprint, Nick tripping over Matt’s foot and nearly faceplanting into the wall.

“What? What happened? Is everything okay?” Matt panted.

Chris didn’t even bother explaining. He just shoved the pregnancy test into Matt’s hands.

Matt stared. Then blinked. Then looked up slowly, his face doing that big, slow, shocked smile.

“NO. SHUT UP. ARE YOU SERIOUS.”

Y/N laughed through tears, nodding.

Matt let out a high-pitched screech that genuinely hurt Chris’s ears and tackled both of them into a hug.

Nick, meanwhile, processed the information about five seconds slower—and then absolutely lost it.

“LET’S FREAKING GOOOOOOOOO!” he shouted at full volume, pumping his fists in the air like they’d won the Super Bowl.

He darted around the room like a little kid on Christmas morning, grabbing a random houseplant and pretending to cradle it like a baby.

“Uncle Nick to the rescue!” he yelled.

Matt was crying laughing, wiping his eyes. “I’m gonna be the cool uncle, obviously. Nick’s gonna scare it.”

Chris was laughing so hard he had to sit down on the bed, pulling Y/N into his lap, kissing her cheek over and over.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her skin. “For not giving up. For being everything.”

“You’re stuck with me now,” Y/N said with a teary grin.

Chris looked at her like she hung the stars. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

In the middle of the chaos—Nick still fake-burping a plant and Matt listing potential baby names like “Chili” and “Scooter”—Y/N looked around at her family.

Messy. Loud. Chaotic.

Perfect.

And she realized:

This baby was already so loved.

⸻

[mclager]

Am I your little secret? | Toto Wolff x reader

Warning: Use of the word daddy (in the song), age gap (reader is 24), cheating, oral (m receiving), semi-public (?), name calling (that counts as degradation?), a picture being taken, dry humping, lil bit of praise

I'm listening too much Lana del Rey I apologise

One thing about being best friends with a F1 driver is that he will make you go to every race he can, even if you don't really care about it. Being around Kimi all the time means I'm around Toto Wolff all the time, and that's why I kept saying yes to Kimi's invites.

He always received me in mercedes with a kind smile, at the beginning without saying anything, but then I was pretending I didn't understand F1, so he started to explain it to me as I look confused for the hundred time, as he said what is a DRS and why they used it, every race he explained something different, and I nodded and asked questions to make him look smarter, every time a little more close till our arms were touching and I couldn't move closer. Then my clothes got shorter and I was super interested about the strategy, and god knows I never understood a single word about it, but at the end of the day the strategy is win. The days Susie Wolff was around Toto didn't even looked at my direction, so this days I was glued to Kimi, trying to look less suspicious, but what threat can a girl so young represent to her, right?

The garage is very noisy and that would constantly give me a migraine and every time it did Toto would let me stay in his office, since it was quieter and darker. He would guide me there and make sure I had everything I needed and that I was ok. It never happened when Susie was there, so I decided to test, how far he would go with his wife right by his side? I walked up to him as always, did my drama, but this time he asked one of the social media girls to walk me there and get me all I needed. I couldn't be mad, it made perfect sense, didn't?

By the end of it, I was walking in and out of Toto's office like it was mine, he was more in the garage anyways. Today Toto was mad at something, and Kimi crashing in FP1 didn't make him any happier. Kimi was worried about the car, and I didn't want to make Toto angrier, so I just went to his office pass the time. I put some music and started to dance to it, when Lana started to play I started to sing too, it wasn't anything loud, because I didn't want to make anyone pissed at me.

"You taste like the fourth of July, Malt liquor on your breath, my, my, I love you but I don’t know why..." My eyes were closed, my hands in my hair. "You can be the boss, daddy, you can be the boss..."

I couple verses passed by as I finally opened my eyes.

"I knew it was wrong, I’m beyond it, I tried to be strong but I lost it..." This where the last lyrics I sang before seeing Toto leaning against the door frame, watching me. "Toto?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing important, I'm just passing time till FP2." He nodded and entered in the room, and closed the door behind him. "Do you need me to get out?"

"No, you can stay." He walked to his table and sat down. "You can continue."

"I don't want to bother you, sir."

"Don't worry about that, just pretend I'm not here." I nodded and pressed to change the song.

"My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola..." Start to sound from my phone, I froze. "My eyes are wide like cherry pies..." My cheeks burning red. "I got sweet taste for men who are older..." For a second my not just my brain stopped working, but my phone also decided to freeze just to complete my sentence. "It's always been so, it's no surprise..." I paused the song as quick as possible, which wasn't quick enough. I had my back turned to Toto, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"Why you stopped it?" He asked and got up.

"I... Just... Is not a appropriate song I'm afraid."

"Now you care? After making my wife more than mad, you care about inappropriate?" He got up.

"I did that? How?"

"How? Well, maybe when you get so close you almost sit on my lap, or when you get all needy and ask to go to my office?" He step to the front of the table.

He noticed?

"I..." He shook his head.

"No, don't need to try to explain, I know what you're trying to do." He got closer to me, and at this angle, his so fucking tall. "See, I'm not stupid." His fingers brushed a couple strands of hair out of my face and grabbed my chin. "You want me so bad, it's pathetic."

"Toto..."

"No, you've talked enough, now it's my turn. Suzie is fucking mad, she's giving me the cold shoulder, so now you're going to make it worth my marital nightmare." Toto let's go of my chin and glances at the door before looking at me again. "Get down on your knees."

I didn't think, I didn't even breathe before doing what he told me. He smirked looking at me.

"Didn't know you were the slut type." He undone his belt, then he unbuttoned his pants, pushing it down just enough to take his knob out of his pants. What surprised me was the fact that he was already half hard. "You know what to do, we don't have much time, do we?"

Instinctively one of my hands grabbed his shaft, pumping it up and down a couple times before licking his tip. He looked down at me as if he had better places to be, he put my hair in a makeshift ponytail and forced my face against him, until I opened my mouth and took him inside, making me choke on his length.

"You look pretty like this." His free hand reached to his back pocket and pick his phone. "You wouldn't mind if I took a picture right?" The flash blinded me for a second, before I could process what he just said. "If I didn't have a wife this would be my wallpaper, to show everyone the pretty whore I have. I think Kimi would like to see this." He pushed my head away just enough for me to take a breath, but the air in my lungs was knocked out when he trusted into my mouth, fucking it like he was planning it for months. "He has a thing for you, don't you think? The way he looks at your ass when you're using this little skirts that barely covers it."

He pushed one of his feet between my legs making me open them. His feet was pressing against my core making me whine around him, my hips started to move, trying it's best to grind against anything I could to get any relief I could.

"Or maybe he's familiar with it, you're a slut after all aren't you?" His grip tightened on my hair, a smirk on his face while he was fucking mine. My moans were muffled, but Toto knew by how hard I was grinding against his shoe that I desperately needed to cum. He didn't say anything, but he pressed harder against my core, and moaned, it was low, but I was proud of taking any sound of him.

I was getting close, and he knew it.

"Come on, can you be good for once and come already?" He tried to sound annoyed, but it came out like a growl, a growl filled with desire. I wished I could have hold it longer, but I came on spot, moaning like the slut I was.

"I'm going to..." He almost whispered, the grip he had on my hair loosened, almost as a invite to get out and let him cum out of my mouth, but I couldn't let him. I stayed in place till I felt him spurting inside my mouth. He rides out his high before exiting my mouth, as he did I swallowed every drop that he left behind.

He pulled me up to my feet, cleaned the drool out of my face with the sleeves of his sweater, fixed my hair, his eyes everywhere but on mine. He fixed his pants, took a deep breath and just then his eyes met mine.

"Are you ok?" I nodded.

"I am." He caressed my face before lean forward and kiss me, his hands comfortably on my hips, and mine on his biceps.

He broke the kiss, parting just enough to speak.

"You were amazing."

"Thank you." My brain was working for longer sentences, this was all I wanted, it's like I'm floating around in a dream.

"I would like if you wanted to go to my hotel room tonight, is that something you would want to do?" I nodded and he smiled. "Great." He gave me another kiss before fully backed off. "You can rest here, I'll make sure no one bothers you, ok?"

"Ok." He walked towards the door, but before he could opened I called him. "Toto?"

"Yes?" He turned to look at me.

"What about your wife?"

"She doesn't need to know for now. Rest, you have a long night coming." He exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This is definitely a secret to keep.

[dramagodesss]

twelve : short film

playin' the players

you’re still slumped against jj when another knock rattles your door.

you groan into his shoulder. "probably kie. i told her i’m fine."

jj leans back a little, grinning. "maybe she brought more candy. or like. a priest."

you snort and shove at him half-heartedly before dragging yourself toward the door, still in your pajamas with bare legs peeking out.

you yank it open, already talking. "kie, i swear i’m okay, you don’t have to babysit—"

you freeze.

it’s not kie.

it’s rafe.

hood up, a victoria’s secret bag dangling from his hand, wearing his hockey hoodie and a scowl that could kill.

he stares down at you — at your tight pjs, at your messy hair, your flushed cheeks. his jaw ticks once, twice.

"wasn’t expecting a welcome party," he mutters, voice low and rough.

you blink up at him, throat going dry. "rafe?"

jj pops up behind you, still leaning against the wall, smug as hell with a gummy worm hanging from his mouth.

"look who decided to crash," jj says, voice all sing-song and cocky.

rafe’s gaze flickers to him — hard, cold — then right back to you. laser-focused. annoyed. dangerous.

you step aside instinctively, heart hammering, letting rafe into your tiny room.

he steps in without a word, eyes dragging across the scene — the candy on your bed, the half-drunk gatorade bottle, jj’s sneakers kicked off near the dresser. he says nothing, just drops the victoria’s secret bag onto your bed with a casualness that’s obviously forced.

"what’s that?" you ask, voice a little too small.

"replacement," rafe says shortly. "for the bra you had to throw out."

your mouth falls open a little.

you scramble for the bag, peeking inside — and there it is: the exact same victoria’s secret bra you lost. same color. same delicate lace.

you bite your lip hard to stop the dumb, warm feeling bubbling in your chest.

"rafe..." you start, but he just shrugs like it's nothing, like he didn’t just run late for practice to buy you a stupidly perfect replacement.

"figured you’d want it," he says roughly. "you liked it."

jj tosses a gummy worm in his mouth with an exaggerated crunch. "damn, rafer. going all out, huh?"

rafe ignores him. doesn’t even glance his way.

his eyes are only on you.

you clutch the bag against your chest, heart pounding. "thank you. seriously."

"whatever," he mutters, running a hand through his hair, looking way too tense for someone who's 'whatever.'

you glance between them — jj lounging on your bed like he owns the place, rafe standing stiffly like he’s two seconds from punching a wall.

"let's go. we have practice" mutters rafe.

you watch them leave, the door clicking shut behind them.

they barely make it two steps down the hall before jj’s elbowing rafe in the ribs, grinning like he knows something he shouldn't.

"soooo," jj drawls, "you gonna tell coach you were late ‘cause I was too busy makin’ out with y/n?"

rafe’s jaw ticks, letting out a low chuckle. he doesn't even look at him when he says, sharp and low, "yeah, sure. did you ask her who she made out with last night?"

jj stops walking.

dead stop.

staring at him like rafe just dropped a live grenade at his feet.

"what?" jj spits. "the fuck’s that supposed to mean?"

rafe just smirks — not friendly, not funny. sharp. mean. like he wants jj to swing first.

he shrugs, real casual. "yeah. that's what i thought."

jj bristles, mouth opening—then closing—then opening again, like he can't decide if he should fight or ask.

but rafe’s already marching ahead, muttering under his breath.

"really, dude? and what the fuck was that— a fucking bra?" jj finally snaps, jogging to catch up.

rafe laughs once — dry and mean. "you know what they say," he tosses over his shoulder. "who buys it, gets to take it off."

jj lunges like he's about to throw hands right there in the parking lot, but a car horn blares nearby and snaps them both out of it.

they glare at each other the whole way to the rink, every step practically vibrating with this isn’t fucking over.

you, meanwhile, are back in your room clutching a pink victoria's secret bag, soooo blissfully unaware of the brewing disaster you left behind.

taglist : @beewritess @davinashifts333 @lanasangelsz @littlefreak-liz @drewstarkeyswife0 @lalaloopsieparty @ethanthequeefqueen @wtfisastiles @angelicameron @moth-feeet @drewstarkeyswife-7 @hiphopstar @cokewithcameron @cameronsbabydoll @chillgal135 @ayy1234567 @pogueprincesa @isinpfortvdmen @iheartrosalia @luvrclub @yesshewrites1 @sideboobrry11 @espressh0e @mysticbby2009 @arianagreenblattfanxx10 @hwaaholic @aves05 @thecolorpearl05 @dreamybabbyy @wintercrows @lesbiana2 @chillgal135 @verycherryblossomhideout @daddyrafeslittleslut @pillowprincess4him @xoxobellamy @dylsdaily @at-todds-heart

[amazing-new-body]

The harness

(Part 1 here)

"I’m gonna drill your hole, bitch!" I said in a dominant and seductive tone.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Josh yelled, completely caught off guard. This clearly wasn't how I had planned for our little encounter to go.

I tried to calm him down. "Relax. It's me, honey, your Bruce."

That only earned me a knee to the crotch. The pain of my new pair of balls getting crushed sent me straight to the floor. I doubled over in agony, unable to even speak.

Josh rushed into the bathroom. "Ha ha, Bruce. Very funny," he said sarcastically. "Now show yourself. I know you're hiding here." He approached the shower curtain and yanked it open. "GOTCHA!"

His expression changed when he realized I wasn’t there.

He dashed back to me. I was still lying on the ground, clutching my balls in intense pain.

"HEY YOU! WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!" he shouted, kicking my ribs. I hadn’t known he was this strong.

"Josh, hon, I am your husband," I managed to say, shifting back to my original body.

Josh’s expression turned guilty. He quickly offered me a hand to help me up. He sat me on the bed and hugged me tight. "I’m so sorry, Bruce. I never meant to hurt you."

"I get it. You don't find out your husband's a shapeshifter every day," I said with a smile. "I just wanted to help you relax before work."

I saw the concern in Josh's face and figured we weren’t going to have sex after all, so I decided to take the harness off.

"So you noticed how stressed I’ve been, huh? Today’s a big deal — we're closing a major sale with one of our potential clients," Josh said, ignoring everything that had happened just moments ago. "Anyway, I’m sorry I ruined your surprise."

"Nah, it’s fine. I picked a really hot one for you. Totally your type, right?" I teased.

"Now that you mention it, I do need to relax ASAP," he said, finally giving in.

"So, want me to help you unwind then?" I said, shifting back into the body of the go-go dancer. Thank God I had jerked off yesterday while wearing the harness; otherwise, my 'body memory' wouldn’t have saved the dancer's replica. This time, I shifted into a different set of clothes.

It was showtime.

"That’s so hot, Bru—" I shushed him.

"Call me Lucius, babe."

Josh chuckled. "Alright... that’s so hot, Lucius."

I strutted towards him, hips swaying like I owned the room. The tiny underwear I wore left little to the imagination — exactly as planned.

Josh stared at me with hungry eyes. He was completely under my spell, with no trace of concern or hesitation left.

I pushed him down onto the bed — a little rougher than intended. Whatever. He just laughed and pulled me closer.

We crashed into each other, kissing like there was no tomorrow. It got messy and sweaty within seconds. After all, Josh hadn’t been able to get hard for weeks due to stress.

His hands were everywhere, tracing every single muscle on my borrowed body. He worshiped my big biceps, asking me to flex now and then. At one point, he even went in for a deep sniff of my sweaty armpits. The scent was addictive to him.

Then his mouth joined the game.

Josh traced the Pitbull tattoo on my left pec with his tongue, while squeezing my right one with his hand. His other hand was busy taking care of my cock.

Before Josh even realized what was happening, I lifted his legs and grabbed my hard dick. I wasn’t sure if it was because my new tool was bigger, or if Josh’s ass had gotten tighter, but it felt like the first time all over again. I kept pounding him, each of his moans driving me to go harder and deeper.

"Choke me," Josh requested, his voice dripping with lust in a tone I'd never heard before.

I was startled by the request, but the moment it sank in, it made perfect sense. I was almost entranced by everything happening.

I wrapped my hand around his neck and began to squeeze.

Josh gasped, his hands reaching up to my arms — maybe trying to tell me something? I thought he was just getting into it, so I pressed harder, grinding against him.

I felt so powerful in this body. It was intoxicating. I forgot. I forgot just how strong this body really was.

Suddenly he jerked weirdly — once, twice — and then went completely limp.

I froze.

"Josh?"

No answer.

"Josh?!"

Panicking, I let go of his neck and shifted back to my real body without even thinking. He was just lying there, eyes closed.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

I scrambled to him, shaking his body.

"Babe?! Come on! Wake the fuck up!"

Nothing.

I checked his pulse. It was there. Thank God.

"Way to go, Bruce," I muttered bitterly. "Choke your husband out because you can't control your strength."

I sat there like an idiot, waiting for Josh to wake up. Then I noticed the clock: it was time for him to leave for work.

That's when I decided I had to fix this.

I spotted Josh's suit hanging in the changing room and rushed over to put it on.

Like many times before, my body transformed into an exact replica of the clothes' owner. This time, Josh’s face looked back at me in the mirror.

"Time to go to work," I said, mimicking his mannerisms.

(to be continued)

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

Be free to send suggestions on future bodies, series name, etc.

Next part is coming up soon!

[pumpkintushie]

Flashed and Marked, Forever Mine.

NSFW fic 🔞Solivan Brugmansia x Fem! Reader

This is my first proper fanfic writing considering I usually draw sooooooooo I hope you enjoy.

ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Please do not steal or copy my work ♥

Art by Fantasia TKaTB

Word Count: 1,600

Warnings: Smut, teasing, dominant behavior, public sex.

You had been teasing Solivan every second you could, reveling in the way his fingers twitched and his eyes roamed over you. Sneaky brushes of your arm against his, your fingertips dancing along the back of his arm as you walked with him. Solivan was at his breaking point, practically ready to throw caution to the wind and show you how much you affected him regardless of the busy sidewalk you two walked on. Your eyes were set on the arcade you were headed towards as the bright flashing lights and loud chimes sounded around you two.

 ”haah~…pumpkin you should know better then to tease me”…Sol said under his breath and with a strain in his voice.. “Heh…mmmn~…you’re soooo cute when you’re all flustered” you said back to him, finding his reddening cheeks endearing. You were practically tugged along and into the photo booth at the back that you two often frequented, but this time the atmosphere felt charged. Behind the curtain of the booth, his lips immediately crashed into yours catching you by surprise but you melted into him. Sol swallowed your breathy gasp with his lips as he resisted the urge to devour you right then and there. A press of lips turned into desperation, roaming hands and you could feel the heat pooling between your thighs at each slide of his tongue against yours.

How long had you two been kissing in the booth? It didn’t matter no, the only thing that mattered was the heat radiating off his body seeping into yours. Solivan pulled back just enough to look into your heavy lidded eyes brushing the pad of this thumb over your kiss swollen lip. He smirked then and slid the hand that was on your hip to your thigh squeezing it, he knew what he was doing and it sent bolts of desire straight to your core. Toying with the hem of your shorts his hand crept closer to where you needed him the most “nngh~…Sol..wait~” you breathed out even as your legs opened invitingly. 

“Shhhhh..…you’re going to be a good girl and stay quiet for me…right?” he said with a grin making his piercings glint in the dim light behind the curtain. The world outside the photo booth faded away as all you could focus on was his eyes that seemed to dance with mischief. You silently nodded, feeling a heat crawl up your neck as he pushed the crumpled bills into the photobooth. 

“GET READY FOR YOUR PHOTOS- SELECT YOUR FRAME” the automated voice came out like a shrill practically making you jump as you were so entranced by the way his fingers moved, he noticed, of course he did and that elicited a dark chuckle from him. Slowly his fingers crept higher and higher teasing under the hem making your brows furrow at him. “Sol… what are you planning?” you said but it came out more like a whine, he ignored you and pressed the sleek black frame. 

“GET INTO YOUR SILLY WACKY POSES FOR THE PERFECT PHOTO MEMORY” the voice cut through the air again, gods was it always this loud? Before you had even a second to process what pose you may want to do, a large palm pressed over your mouth and his other hand hooked around the crotch of your shorts tugging them to the side. “Pumpkin, we’re going to capture some memories alright” he purred out with a wolfish smile as the two of you appeared on the small screen. “Mmnnhhpppf!”  you huffed out into his palm pinching your brows together feeling the cool air of the booth hit your feverish exposed skin.

The time seemed to slow as you felt those all too familiar fingers slide through your glistening folds and the most pitiful sound came from your lips. “Heh…you’re so wet..is this all for me?” Sol teased with that same wolfish grin, gods you swore you could see his eyes darkening as he looked at the mess you were becoming. Your eyes flicked to the little screen seeing you two from the waist up hiding the hidden touches he was stealing below. “Pumpkin, eyes on me..” he said, keeping his palm over your mouth but turning your head to face him as he pressed his finger against the sensitive bud that ached for him. That press made your hips roll forward wantonly and you were thankful that your reddening cheeks were covered by his hand. 

“GET READY…..ONE….” The automated voice rang out as he circled your clit leaning his head to the side watching you with a predatory glint in his eye, the strain in his pants all but growing at the needy sounds being muffled by his hand. “...TWO..” Sol grinned wider as his fingers moved in tight circles, the pleasure radiating through your core was making your breaths come out in short quick bursts. “THREE!-” Snap~ the booth camera went off forever immortalizing  your cruel punishment for teasing him, and what was worse? There was more frames to be taken and he was just getting started. 

“You know, you're so beautiful when you fall apart for me” he purred against your ear, tightening his grip on your mouth as your warm breath from your nose ghosted over his knuckles. The automated voice said something similar than before but you couldn't focus, how could you when his words were dripping with sin and he was wringing out your pleasure? It felt so damn embarrassing knowing how much of a mess you were making in your shorts, your lace panties all but becoming a second skin clinging to you along with your damn shorts. Snap~ the lense captured his lips to your ears and your eyes going glassy, you were practically drooling into his palm.

Solivan turned your head forward facing the lens, opening your neck up to his greedy mouth. “Keep your eyes on the camera.” it was a command and the way he said it sent a shiver through your spine. His fingers became more demanding on your skin and his own hips canted up against nothing but the tightness of his pants. “Mmmnnh!~” the needy sound was muffled by his hand because that was his to hear, his alone. “M’Fuck…Im going to make you fall apart”  Solivan growled into your skin but only loud enough for you to hear. He could hardly take it the friction of his too tight pants pressed deliciously against his cock, if it weren't for his dark pants he would look just as much of a mess as you were right now. 

You. Were. Aching. For him. His lips and tongue on your sensitive neck made your skin flush and his hot breath rippled goosebumps across your skin. Solivan’s dexterous fingers slid between your slick heat and teased at the place you needed him the most. Schlick~ the audible squelch of his finger sliding effortlessly into your pussy sounded in your ears in the hidden place behind the photo booths curtain sounded in your ears.  

Snap~  The camera you were facing captured your eyes fluttering closed with a fucked out expression on your face. You were truly a mess, but his mess nonetheless. Solivan’s eyes flicked to the screen seeing your eyes closed and he pressed his finger deeper inside you curling it as he breathily whispered into your ear. “Pumpkin, you’re going to keep your eyes on that camera. Eyes. Open….or you’ll be punished when we get back.” another command, a warning that made you clench around his digit.  

“Fuck…look at you” Sol said thick with need curling his finger out of you only to replace it with two digits, this made you cry out into his palm that he held tightly against your mouth. Pumping his fingers in and out of your wetness his teeth began to dominate your neck. The muffled moans were caught but occasionally slipping between his digits making his cock throb and leak into his boxers. You were transfixed on watching him through the grainy screen, watching him suck love letters into your skin and marking you as his.  Snap~ Captured and enraptured by the punishment and worship he was giving you. 

It was too much, the slide of his fingers inside you coiling heat inside you like a spring ready to snap and then it happened. Squeezing around his digits your walls fluttered as Sol shattered you completely, you hadn’t even noticed him pull back to watch you come undone because your eyes were nearly rolled back.Snap~  “Haaaah~ yes, that's it! Fucking break for me” he said with ragged heavy breaths as he fell apart from the friction of his tight pants and purely by watching you crumble for him.

Solivan slowed his pace and then pulled his fingers out of the mess you made, your eyes lazy and trying to focus on him seeing his own fucked out expression. Your flushed face came into full view as he released his hand from over your mouth but only to hold your jaw in his grip. Holy fuck, you could only hazily think before he made a show of bringing those digits to his lips and licking them clean while you watched. Snap~ the final photo took showing you two, utterly ruined. 

Solivan moved your damp shorts back into place but not before snatching up the polaroid strip into his greedy hands. With twitching fingers, he held the strip raking his eyes over every detail of his newest obsession, before looking at his most prized possession. Fucked out, utterly ruined, marked in bites and hickeys and so his. “You're so fucking perfect so fucking mine, and only m i n e.” he said before capturing your lips again, his mind racing with every way he would show you just how much he meant his words, his promise. 

Find my spicy art here ➺PumpkinTushie🎃 (@PumpkinTushie) / X

[multific]

The Storm Before the Calm

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Summary: A misunderstanding leads to days of painful silence between you and Massimo. Frustrated, you leave the estate for space, only to get caught in a brutal storm.

The silence between you and Massimo was deafening.

It had been days since your last real conversation, a simple misunderstanding spiralling into something neither of you had the patience or pride to fix.

You missed him, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But his cold indifference cut deep, and you refused to be the first to break.

Frustrated, you left the estate, needing space to clear your head.

The Sicilian air was thick with humidity, the sky an ominous shade of grey.

You barely noticed the shift, too lost in your thoughts, until the first raindrop landed on your skin.

Then another. And another.

Within moments, the sky unleashed its fury.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, the wind howling as you struggled to find shelter.

You were too far from home now, drenched and shivering, your stubbornness having led you into the heart of the storm.

Then, through the chaos, you heard it.

The roar of an engine.

Headlights sliced through the rain, and before you could even process it, the car jerked to a stop beside you.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Massimo.

His expression was unreadable as he stepped out, the rain instantly soaking his perfect suit.

His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than the storm itself.

“Get in the car,” he ordered, voice rough, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, but he was already reaching for you, his large hands gripping your arms as he pulled you under the shelter of his body. “You could’ve gotten hurt,” he murmured, his breath warm against your chilled skin.

His hands ran down your arms as if checking for any signs of harm.

“I didn’t mean to be out this long,” you admitted softly, watching as something in his expression cracked.

His grip tightened for a second before he exhaled sharply. “Dio, I’ve been going insane.” He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the rain—or maybe the tears you hadn’t realized had mixed with it. “You left angry. I thought-” He stopped, and for the first time in days, you saw it.

The worry. The fear. The cold expressionless eyes were now filled with every emotion.

“I wasn’t leaving you,” you whispered, pressing a cold hand over his racing heart. “I just needed to think.”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

“Then next time, think in the house. With me.”

You barely had time to nod before his lips crashed onto yours.

He tasted like rain and something more profound, like a man holding back far too much for far too long. And when he finally pulled you into the car, wrapping you in his jacket, you knew the storm between you had finally passed.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[fxckedupdaydreams]

Amor the Moth Demon

Yan! Death's-Head Hawk Moth Demon x Reader

Tw; Unmentioned fatphobia, Dumb moth that acts like a puppy, yandere behavior, yandere has no boundaries, murder implied, breaking into your home lol, they’re actually really sweet

Yandere Moth Demon that meets you when the lights in your room are on, practically breaking the glass as it crashes into the window.

You somehow don’t notice, however, more focused on the phone in your hand and the images of you.

Yandere Moth Demon that was originally attempting to get in your room for the cute paper lantern lamp on your desk but gets distracted by your teary face.

It presses their face against the glass window, chirping softly as they push and pull and pout as they try to get it open.

Yandere Moth Demon that finally figures it out soon after you got into bed and is quick to crawl into your room, wings fluttering softly as it grabs at your face.

They’re curious over your tears, softly wiping the tears away in awe and happily squeaking when you blink in shock because there’s a giant bug on your bed??

Yandere Moth Demon that you kick out soon after, confused and scared because what the fuck is this thing doing in your home and why?

They point at your lamp as you push them out the window, chirping happy as you sigh and hand it to it.

Yandere Moth Demon that returns the next night in tears with a broken lamp, sniffling and squeaking as it shows it to you through the window.

You’re confused but let it in, having hoped that you hallucinated or something the night before while you were sobbing over the comments on your pictures.

Yandere Moth Demon that rests its chin on your shoulder, watching you scroll online for a globe lamp and chirping happily when you find the perfect one.

You can just sigh softly as they nuzzle your neck in happiness, refusing to leave from that moment on.

Yandere Moth Demon that insists on sleeping on your bed during the day, feeling safest under your covers and even more when you are there as well.

They show up about an hour before you wake up to get under the covers, wings fluttering softly before settling over you like a second blanket.

Yandere Moth Demon that watches humans kissing and doing other activities on your tv and gets curious about it all, pointing at it once it’s got your attention.

You’re hesitant about it, especially after you taught them how to do your hair and now they refuse to let you do it yourself, but eventually give in.

Yandere Moth Demon that loves it when you dress them up, a bath and some accessories makes it feel attractive and even more when you compliment them.

Yandere Moth Demon that rarely leaves your home, carrying the globe lamp in its hands as it wanders your home all night.

It eats some of your honey and sugar packets (yes the whole paper packet with the sugar in it), and makes sure that you’re safe all night.

Yandere Moth Demon that is quick to squeak aggressively the moment someone is at your door with flowers, ready for a date that you were in the middle of getting ready for.

Why are you going out with anyone but them? Do you not know that you belong to them now?? This human clearly wont take good care of you!

Yandere Moth Demon that watches you sigh at your phone an hour later, all dressed up and ready to go, chirping softly as you make yourself dinner.

They’re quick to follow, holding up the flowers for you to take.

Yandere Moth Demon that grabs your hand and tugs you to the living room once your dinner is done, chirping happily as it curls up into your side and hands you the tv remote.

Hopefully you don’t smell the metallic scent on their fur, they’d hate to make you have to wash them again.

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

You’ll Stay Right?

Synopsis: After School cuddling with your beautiful girlfriend.

Word Count: 861

Hope you enjoy this short fluff after all the angst fics I did 🫶🏻

You were walking home after school, eager to crash into bed and sleep the rest of the day away. That’s when you heard a familiar voice call out,

“Y/N, love!”

You turned, already smiling before you even saw her.

Karina was sprinting toward you, her excitement barely contained as she threw herself into your arms.

“Let’s hang out!” she grinned.

“Sure,” you chuckled, steadying her. “Want to come over to my place?”

“Sounds good! Let’s watch a movie,” she beamed.

“Whatever you want, love.”

As you walked side by side, sharing skewers of street food, the conversation drifted into playful nonsense.

“Next week, let’s go skydiving,” Karina said suddenly, biting into her fishball.

You laughed. “Yeah? And break every bone in our bodies?”

“Fine, fine. Then let’s rent a boat and sail away forever.”

“You get seasick after five minutes,” you pointed out, bumping her shoulder lightly.

She pouted, “Okay, then… we build a treehouse and live in the woods.”

“That one sounds doable,” you teased. “As long as you do all the building, and I just supervise.”

Karina giggled, slipping her hand into yours without a second thought.

“Deal. But you owe me a date after.”

“It’s already a date, love,” you murmured, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

The sky was starting to soften into gold, and you realized — moments like this, with her, were the kind you wanted to stay in forever

Once you made it home, you set the snacks on the coffee table — chips, fishballs, and a few sweets you grabbed along the way. The curtains were drawn shut, plunging the room into a cozy darkness, the only light spilling from the flickering TV.

You cranked the AC a little colder, pulled the thick blankets out, and before long, you and Karina were tangled up together on the couch, tucked under the covers like it was your own little world.

“Mmm, this is perfect,” Karina mumbled, nuzzling closer to your chest.

“Yeah? Comfy enough?” you teased, pressing your chin lightly against the top of her head.

“You’re like a human heater,” she giggled, her voice muffled against your shirt.

The movie played, some cheesy romcom neither of you were really paying attention to at first — mostly trading quiet jokes, stealing snacks from each other’s hands, laughing when Karina nearly knocked over the drinks.

“Hey, hey, careful!” you said, laughing as you wiped soda from her chin.

“You’re the one who made me laugh!” she whined, grinning wide, cheeks flushed pink from the cold air and the warmth between you two.

As you clung closer, you caught the scent of her shampoo — light, clean, something that just smelled like home.

Her skin was impossibly soft under your fingertips where your hands rested against her back. Her face — half-illuminated by the TV’s shifting light — was so stunning it made your chest ache.

She looked up at you once, catching you staring, and she smiled that tiny, shy smile she only ever gave you.

You smiled back, whispering, “Beautiful…” without even thinking.

Karina ducked her head, hiding against you in embarrassment, but you felt her smile wider against your chest.

The movie eventually pulled you both in deeper — the main female lead breaking down, years of heartbreak spilling out in a trembling confession.

You noticed the shift before you heard it — the way Karina’s body tensed slightly against you, the way her hand clutched your sleeve tighter.

And then came the soft sniffles — not from the screen, but from the girl wrapped up in your arms.

You turned a little, brushing her hair gently away from her teary face.

“Hey… you okay?” you whispered.

She laughed wetly, wiping at her eyes clumsily. “I’m fine, I just… I always get emotional at these parts.”

You said nothing, just pulled her closer, letting her cry if she needed to. Your fingers stroked slow, comforting patterns against her back.

When the credits finally rolled, and the room was filled with only the low hum of the TV and the hum of the AC, Karina tilted her head up to look at you.

Her voice was barely a breath.

“You’ll stay, right?” she whispered, her eyes big and wet.

“Promise me you’ll stay, love.”

You could see it — the fear she tried so hard to hide behind all her smiles. The fear of losing you. The fear of being left behind.

You cradled her face carefully between your palms, wiping away the lingering tears with your thumbs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said firmly. “Ever.”

Karina let out a shaky breath — half a sob, half a laugh — before throwing her arms around you tightly.

She kissed you without warning, messy and desperate, tasting like salt and soda and pure, honest love.

You kissed her back, holding her like she was something fragile and precious.

Because she was.

And you weren’t just staying.

You were choosing her — again and again, for as long as she would have you

And somewhere deep inside, you knew:

“The people we choose to stay for… are the ones who teach us what home really means.”

[mummyemmatojames]

33. A New Milestone: Producing Milk for James

Hello, wonderful community! Emma here, your Mummy-in-training, with an exciting update on our MDLB and FLR journey. As many of you know, I’ve been “feeding” James—nursing him—about three times a day for a while now: at bedtime to help him sleep, when he fusses, or when he needs comfort. Thanks to your amazing advice (you know who you are!), I’ve taken a big step—I now produce milk! It’s been a wild adjustment for both of us, but I’m loving how it’s deepening our dynamic and even benefiting his health. I’d love to hear from others who’ve gone down this path!

How We Got Here

Nursing has been a cornerstone of our dynamic for months—starting as a dry comfort thing and growing into a daily ritual. James latches on every night to fall asleep, and I’ve been offering it during the day when he’s upset or just needs a quiet moment with Mummy. It’s become such a natural part of us that I started wondering if I could take it further. After reading your suggestions about inducing lactation—taking supplements like fenugreek and blessed thistle, using a pump between sessions—I decided to give it a try. I didn’t tell James at first, just quietly worked on it for a few weeks, pumping a few times a day and tweaking my diet.

About a week ago, it happened—I started producing milk, albeit just a little. The first time was during our bedtime routine. I felt a little let-down as he latched on, and suddenly, he pulled back with this horrified look on his face. “What’s that?” he sputtered, wiping his mouth. I couldn’t help but laugh—I explained that it was Mummy’s milk, that I’d been working on it for him. He said it tasted sweet, almost too sweet, and seemed thrown off by the whole thing. I reassured him it was normal and good for him, and after a minute, he settled back in, though he was still a bit wide-eyed about it.

Adjusting to the Change

The first couple of days were an adjustment—James wasn’t sure about the taste or the idea of it, and I could tell it made him feel a bit weird. He’d hesitate before latching, like he was bracing himself, and once muttered, “It’s so different, Mummy.” But I stayed calm and encouraging—“It’s just Mummy taking care of you, sweetheart, like always”—and now, a week in, he seems to be used to it. He doesn’t pull away anymore, and last night, he nursed to sleep without a peep, his breathing slowing as the milk flowed. It’s starting to feel like second nature again, just with this new, amazing layer.

For me, it’s been incredible. I love that I’m not only comforting him but actually nourishing him now. The let-down sensation is a little strange—I feel it most at bedtime or when he’s been fussing for a while—but it’s also so satisfying. Knowing my body is producing something just for him makes me feel even more connected to my role as Mummy. I’ve kept up the supplements and pump a little in the mornings and night to keep things steady, and I’m amazed at how well it’s working.

The Benefits for James

What’s been even more surprising is how it’s affecting James’s health. Paired with the control I’ve had over his snacking—steering him toward fruit and veggies instead of biscuits since the toddler grounding rule stuck— Mummy’s milk seems to be doing wonders. His skin, which used to break out now and then, has cleared up beautifully; it’s smooth and bright in a way I haven’t seen before. He’s in great shape too—energetic but steady, no more sugar crashes from junk food. I’ve read that breast milk can boost immunity and overall wellness, even for adults, and I’m starting to see it firsthand. It’s like the perfect combo: my milk plus our healthier habits are making him thrive.

He hasn’t commented on the changes himself—he’s not one to notice his own skin or energy levels—but I can tell he feels good. Yesterday, he was buzzing around with his train set after lunch, full of life, and I thought, “This is working.” It’s not just emotional comfort anymore—it’s physical care too, and that feels so rewarding.

A Deeper Dynamic

This milestone has deepened our dynamic in ways I didn’t expect. Nursing him to sleep every night with milk now feels like such a complete act of care—he drifts off with this full, satisfied look, and I get to hold him close, knowing I’m giving him something special. The daytime feeds, when he’s fussy or needs a reset, are even more powerful now—five minutes on my chest, and he’s calm, nourished, and back to his sweet self. It’s still about comfort, but there’s this added layer of Mummy literally sustaining him, and I love it.

James seems to have settled into it too. After that initial shock, he’s stopped mentioning the taste, and last night, he even reached for me without me offering first—a quiet sign he’s accepting it as part of us. I think he’s learning to trust that Mummy knows best, even when it’s new and strange at first.

What Do You Think?

I’d love to hear from the community—especially those who’ve induced lactation for your dynamic! How did your partner adjust to the milk, and did you see health benefits like we’re starting to? For those who suggested the supplements and pumping, any tips on keeping it going long-term—I want to make this a lasting part of us. And if you’ve got ideas for balancing this with his little space (like pairing it with his train set playtime), I’m all ears—I’m so excited to keep exploring this.

Thank you for your advice that got us here—I wouldn’t have thought to try this without you. I love my little boy so much, and knowing I’m nourishing him now makes my Mummy heart burst.

With all my love, Emma (aka Mummy) 💕

[onegayastronaut]

All the Time in the World

Got this tragic story for y'all hehe

Words: 1749

The night had started off perfect. Carina had planned the whole evening: an intimate dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant, the kind that smelled of fresh basil and warm bread, where the candlelight flickered just enough to make her dark eyes glow. She had insisted on choosing your outfit: something soft, something that she could pull you close in when you danced after dinner.

You were laughing together, twirling a piece of pasta onto your fork when the commotion started.

A crash, shouts, the screeching of chairs as people scrambled.

It took only seconds to realize what was happening: a man, erratic and frantic, waving a knife, demanding money from the staff. The air turned thick with panic as people tried to move, to escape, but the restaurant was small. There was nowhere to go.

Instinct kicked in. Carina had gasped, clutching your hand, her body tense with fear. But your body moved before you even thought it through. You shifted in front of her, shielding her.

The man turned and his wild eyes landed on you. And then he lunged. Pain bloomed sharp and hot in your side before you even processed that the blade had found its mark. You gritted your teeth, staggering back, but you didn’t let go of Carina’s hand. She was shaking, her eyes wide with horror as she tried to lower you gently to the ground. "You're going to be okay. I’m a doctor. I’ve got you. Just stay awake."

You wanted to reassure her, but you smiled instead. "Did we… pay the check?"

Her laugh was broken. “You idiot—shut up. Don’t joke right now.”

You reached for her, your hand slick with blood, and cupped her cheek. “You're okay?”

She nodded quickly, biting her lip. “Because of you. You—you saved me.”

You blinked slowly. “I love you.”

Carina's face collapsed. “Stop it. Don’t talk like that.”

"Tell Maya—tell her I never meant to hurt her."

Carina shook her head. “You can tell her yourself. You’re going to tell her yourself, okay?”

Your vision tunneled. The edges were black now. But her face was still there. Beautiful. You could die like this.

Suddenly, Maya was there.

Carina’s voice broke as she called out, relief and panic tangled in the sound of her love’s name. You barely managed to lift your head as Maya, in full firefighter gear, burst through the crowd.

Her sharp eyes locked onto you, the color draining from her face. “Oh my God.” She dropped to her knees beside you, one hand immediately pressing against your wound to slow the bleeding. Her other hand found Carina’s shoulder, steadying her as she sobbed.

“You’re going to be okay,” Maya swore, her voice rough with emotion. “I promise, you’re going to be okay.”

Carina was still clutching your hand, whispering your name like a prayer as Maya barked orders, calling for the medics. Her hands, usually so steady, trembled as she helped keep pressure on your wound.

The pain was bad, but their touch, their presence was grounding.

The last thing you saw before your vision blurred was the sheer terror in both their eyes, love and fear intertwined as they refused to let go of you.

The ambulance ride was a blur of flashing lights and frantic voices. Maya rode with you, gripping your hand as the paramedics worked to keep your vitals stable. Carina, unable to fit in the back, followed in her car, driving recklessly through the city, heart pounding in time with the sirens.

At the hospital, everything happened too fast. A team of doctors and nurses whisked you away the moment the stretcher burst through the emergency room doors. Maya and Carina were left standing in the hall, their hands bloodstained, their breaths shallow.

Dr. Bailey was the first to approach them, her face solemn. “We’re taking her into surgery now. The stab wound is deep, and there’s significant blood loss. We’re going to do everything we can.”

Carina choked back a sob, pressing her hands to her mouth. Maya wrapped an arm around her, holding her as tightly as she could.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then two. The waiting room felt suffocating. Maya paced while Carina sat, curled in on herself, hands clasped together as if in silent prayer. The exhaustion was palpable, but neither of them could close their eyes. Not until they knew you were safe.

Finally, the doors swung open, and a surgeon stepped out, pulling off her gloves. Carina shot to her feet first, Maya right behind her.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said, and the weight of the world lifted off their shoulders in an instant. “The knife nicked an artery, but we were able to repair it. She’ll need time to recover, but she’s going to be okay.”

Tears streamed down Carina’s face as she let out a choked sob. Maya exhaled sharply, pressing a shaking hand to her forehead. Relief, overwhelming and all-consuming, crashed over them.

“Can we see them?” Maya asked, voice thick with emotion.

The doctor nodded. “They’re still unconscious, but yes, you can.”

When they stepped into your hospital room, the sight of you—pale, connected to monitors, but alive—was enough to nearly break them all over again. Maya took one hand, Carina the other. They sat on either side of you, their fingers laced with yours, holding onto you the way they always would.

Carina was in the hallway with two coffees in hand and a soft smile. She was just in time to hear the code being called. Just in time to see nurses running. Just in time to drop the cups as her world cracked open.

The monitor flatlined. That endless, high-pitched tone sliced through the hospital room like a blade. Maya's breath caught in her throat as the color drained from her face.

“HEY!” she screamed, already pounding on the emergency button. “CODE BLUE! ROOM 413!”

Chaos erupted around her. The crash cart slammed through the door. Nurses flooded the space. A doctor barked orders Maya could barely hear over the ringing in her ears.

She watched as they worked on you: compressions, paddles, medication.

“No—NO!” Carina pushed past the hallway traffic and into the room, where Maya stood frozen as the team worked to bring you back.

“Y/N!” she cried out, but someone caught her. Maya, arms around her, grounding her, keeping her from collapsing.

. “I—I left for five minutes,” Carina sobbed, clinging to Maya, burying her face into her shoulder. “Five minutes.”

“Let them work,” Maya whispered, holding her tightly, her own tears flowing freely. “Please, please just let them bring her back.”

“Charging to 200!”

“Clear!”

Your body jolted.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

The line remained flat.

But seconds became minutes. Minutes became an eternity.

The attending finally stepped back, his voice low and somber.

“Time of death: 2:41 a.m.”

Carina collapsed to the floor, and Maya knelt beside her, both of them shaking in a silence so loud it crushed the walls.

ONE WEEK LATER

Seattle was grey. The kind of grey that soaked into your bones and didn’t leave. Rain tapped gently against the church windows as mourners filed into the pews.

The casket at the front of the altar was simple: elegant, just like you would’ve wanted. A single framed photo sat on top: you smiling, sunlight in your hair, a spark in your eyes that could’ve set the world ablaze.

Carina sat in the front row, hands trembling in her lap. She hadn’t spoken much the last few days. Only cried when no one was looking and stared at the wall when they were. She looked like someone who had lost half of her soul.

Maya sat beside her, stiff and silent, gripping Carina’s hand like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. Her uniform was crisp, dress blues perfect, but her eyes were hollow.

As people came forward to speak, no one could quite find the words. What could they say? You were too young. Too brave. Too good to be gone.

When it was Carina’s turn, she stood slowly, legs unsteady. She approached the microphone like she was approaching a cliff. For a moment, she said nothing. Just stared at the casket. And then, with a soft, broken voice, she began. The room fell still.

“She saved me. She put herself between me and danger without hesitation. That was who she was—fierce, loyal, protective. She made me feel safe. She made me feel seen.” Carina paused, voice cracking. “And I don’t know how to keep going without her.”

Her legs buckled slightly. Maya rose from the pew without hesitation, arm around her waist, holding her upright. “I loved her,” Carina whispered, tears falling freely. “And she loved both of us.”

Maya reached up and gently brushed a tear from Carina’s cheek. “We loved her, too,” she said. And then she turned to face the casket, voice rough and low.

“We’ll carry her with us. Always.”

The cemetery was muddy. Rain fell softly as the casket was lowered into the earth.

Carina stepped forward with a single rose and pressed it to the polished wood. Her fingers lingered.

“I’m so sorry I left the room.”

Maya stood beside her, placing a hand on her back. “She wouldn’t want you to feel that,” she said gently. “You gave her something to fight for. You gave her love.”

“I just wish she’d had more time,” Carina whispered.

“So do I,” Maya replied. “But she made it count. She gave everything she had to the people she loved. To us.”

Carina leaned into Maya’s side as they watched the earth cover the casket inch by inch.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Months later, there was a small garden behind the hospital, newly named in your honor. A plaque sat at the base of a cherry blossom tree.

“In memory of Y/N. A protector. A light. Loved fiercely, missed deeply.”

Carina visited often. Sometimes alone. Sometimes with Maya. Sometimes they’d just sit in silence, watching the wind in the blossoms.

“She would’ve loved this,” Carina said once, resting her head on Maya’s shoulder.

“She’d probably be mad we made her a plaque,” Maya replied softly. “Said we were being too dramatic.”

Carina smiled faintly. “But she’d love that we remember her.”

Maya nodded. “We always will.”

And in the rustle of leaves and petals in the breeze, it almost felt like you were still there.

[kittenan]

Dream so Real [Pt. II]

Pairing: Incubus!Seokjin x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Smut, supernatural themes, dream manipulation, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, squirting, spanking, edging, dark romance, dubcon elements (dream manipulation), intense sexual content.

Kinks/Themes: Dream play, wet dreams, oral sex (f receiving), finger fuck, squirting, spanking, supernatural seduction, edging, illusionary pleasure, dream and reality blending, dark romance.

Word Count: ~2.5k

For weeks, Seokjin was gone. His absence left you empty, like a piece of you was missing. His warm hands, his deep voice, the way he made you feel alive—they were all gone. At first, you thought it was a good thing. Maybe he’d moved on, and you could finally think straight. But every night, your body betrayed you. You couldn’t stop thinking about him—his fingers on your skin, his lips teasing you, his body filling you until you forgot everything else. You wanted him so badly it hurt, your dreams full of his dark, shadowy figure.

By the seventh night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You lay in bed, the sheets twisted around you, your skin hot with need. The room felt heavy, like something was waiting to happen. You whispered his name into the dark, your voice shaky. “Seokjin, please. Where are you? Come back.”

The air changed, thick with the smell of flowers and smoke. He appeared at the end of your bed, his eyes glowing like fire, bright and intense. He was so beautiful it stole your breath—messy black hair, open shirt showing his smooth chest. His stare was heavy, like he owned you, and your heart raced.

“You called me,” he said, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re begging for me again.”

You wanted to argue, to say you didn’t need him, but he moved too fast. His lips crashed into yours, kissing you hard, like he was starving. His tongue pushed into your mouth, and his teeth nipped your lip, making you gasp. He ripped your nightgown off, the fabric tearing easily, and the cool air made you shiver as it hit your bare skin.

“No playing or teasing tonight,” he growled, grabbing your thighs and pulling them apart. “You want me? You’re getting all of me.”

His fingers pushed inside you, three at once, stretching you until you gasped. It felt so good, too much, and you cried out, grabbing the sheets. He moved his hand fast, his thumb rubbing your most sensitive spot, making your body shake. The sounds of your wetness were loud, and you felt your face heat up, but you couldn’t stop. You were so ready for him, and he knew it, his fingers hitting the perfect spot that made everything blurry.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough. His other hand wrapped around your throat, not too tight, just enough to make your heart pound. “So wet, so needy. You’re mine, right?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, the word slipping out as your body shook. “I’m yours, Seokjin.”

He grinned, dark and proud, and pulled his fingers out. You felt empty, but only for a second. He freed himself, his hardness ready, and pushed into you hard, filling you completely. You screamed, your nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t slow down, each thrust deep and fast, the bed shaking under you. He pinched your nipples, making you cry out, the sharp feeling mixing with pleasure. He slapped your thigh, and the sting made you tighten around him. You came hard, your body shaking, wetness soaking him as you fell apart.

He kept going, pushing you through the waves of pleasure, his hand squeezing your throat lightly before moving to your chest. His mouth found your nipples, sucking and biting until you were whimpering, your body too sensitive but still wanting more. “So perfect,” he groaned. “You are made for me. This pussy is made for me only.”

He turned you over, pulling your hips up so you were on your knees. He pushed into you again, harder this time, his hand spanking your backside until it stung. Each slap made you moan, pushing back against him, wanting more. He didn’t stop, his fingers gripping your hips, and you came again, screaming his name as your body shook, leaving the sheets wet beneath you.

When he pulled out, you were trembling, barely able to move, but he wasn’t done. He spread your legs, his mouth finding your wetness. His tongue teased your sensitive spot, his fingers moving inside you, and you came again, your legs shaking as you spilled into his mouth. He groaned, licking up everything, his eyes dark and happy.

“Now you make me feel good,” he said, his voice low. He guided you to your knees, his hardness close to your face. You took him in your mouth, moving your lips over him, taking him deep until you gagged. Your tongue moved around him, and he held your hair, moving your head until he groaned, spilling into your mouth. You swallowed, your lips sore but proud you’d pleased him.

He pushed you back onto the bed, still hard, and slid into you again, this time slower. His eyes locked on yours, each thrust careful, making you feel every inch of him. He teased your nipples with his fingers, pinching them until you squirmed, your body sensitive but still hungry. He pushed you to the edge again, and when you came, you soaked him, your body trembling as he moved through your pleasure, finishing inside you.

Instead of pulling out, he stayed inside, warm and still. He pulled you close, your back against his chest, his arms around you. His lips kissed your forehead softly. “Feel me,” he whispered, gentle now. “I’m right here.” The closeness, with him still inside you, made you feel safe, like you were part of him.

He held you close, his hands stroking your back, soothing the marks he’d left. “You’re trembling,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “Let me take care of you.” From nowhere—his powers, you assumed—he produced a warm, damp cloth and gently cleaned the sweat and slick from your skin, his touch careful over your sensitive folds. He wrapped a soft blanket around you, pulling you into his lap, his fingers combing through your hair as he murmured praises. “You did so well, darling. So perfect for me. My beautiful girl.”

You relaxed into him, warm and safe, but a worry stayed in your mind. You couldn’t forget what you’d felt, what you’d feared.

The next morning, you woke alone, the bed cold where he’d been. The ache in your body was a reminder of the night before, but so was the ache in your heart. You couldn’t let it go. You needed answers. You spent the day researching, finding old texts and obscure corners of the internet for anything that could explain him. You found myths about incubi—demons who fed on human lust, gaining power with every encounter, their victims left drained, hollowed out. The texts chilled you to the bone: they used humans, drenching their vitality, their life force, and when their victims aged or weakened, they abandoned them for younger, fresher prey. Your heart sank. You were falling for him, craving his touch, his presence, but to him, you might be nothing more than a source of power, a toy to discard when you were no longer useful.

The realization cut deep. You weren’t a plaything, a vessel for his hunger. You deserved more than to be used and cast aside. So, you resolved to pull away. When he appeared at night, his eyes glowing with that familiar hunger, you made excuses—exhaustion, your periods, a headache or sickness—anything to avoid his touch. His gaze would narrow, his voice slipping into your mind, weaving through your dreams, tempting you with memories of his hands, his lips, his cock. Your body still ached for him, your thighs slick with need even as you fought to stay strong, to protect yourself.

In a desperate bid to break his hold, you agreed to a blind date. A coworker had set it up, promising a nice, normal guy—someone grounded, human, safe. You hoped it would anchor you, help you move on from the intoxicating pull of Seokjin. The date was pleasant enough, a quiet dinner at a small restaurant, but your mind kept drifting to him, to the way his touch set you alight, the way his voice made your body sing. You hated yourself for it.

That night, when you returned home, the air in your bedroom was heavy, suffocating. Seokjin was there, waiting, his presence a storm of barely restrained fury. His eyes blazed, his jaw tight, his beauty sharper and more dangerous than ever.

“You think you can replace me?” he snarled, stepping closer, his voice dripping with venom and something deeper—hurt, perhaps. “You think some human can satisfy you the way I do? You’re mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you snapped, your voice shaking with defiance and fear. “I’m not your toy, Seokjin. I won’t let you use me.”

His expression darkened, raw possessiveness radiating from him like heat. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t hesitate. He pushed you onto the bed, his hands tearing your clothes off with a violence that made your heart race. You should’ve been scared, should’ve fought harder, but your body betrayed you, already wet, already aching for him, your core pulsing with need.

“You’ve been craving this,” he growled, his fingers plunging into you without warning, three at once, stretching you with that familiar burn. You cried out, your body arching as he fucked you with his hand, his thumb circling your clit with ruthless precision. “You want me, don’t you? Say it.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, the truth spilling out as he brought you to the edge, your body trembling under his touch. “I want you.”

He spanked you, each slap making you clench around his fingers, the sting blending with pleasure in a way that left you dizzy. Then he was inside you, his cock stretching you as he fucked you mercilessly, his pace brutal, unforgiving. He choked you lightly, his grip possessive but careful, his lips sucking your nipples until they were swollen and sensitive. You came again and again, squirting around him, your screams filling the room as he pushed you past your limits, your body a live wire under his command.

When he finally slowed, he didn’t pull out. He stayed inside you, his cock warm and pulsing, cockwarming you as he pulled you against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, his lips brushing your ear. “You feel me, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice soft now, almost tender. “I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”

He held you for hours, his cock still buried deep, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment. Then, he shifted, grabbing a warm cloth to clean you gently, wiping away the sweat and slick with careful hands. He wrapped a blanket around you, pulling you into his arms, his fingers stroking your hair as he kissed your temple. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice tender, reverent. “You did so well for me, my darling.”

The aftercare was soothing, a balm to the intensity of what you’d shared, but as you lay in his arms, you broke. The fear, the doubt, the truth you’d uncovered—it all came rushing back. “I read about incubi,” you whispered, your voice raw, trembling. “You’re using me. You feed on my desire, my energy. You’ll leave me when I’m old, when I’m nothing to you.”

He stilled, his hand pausing in your hair. When he spoke, his voice was low, laced with something you hadn’t heard before—vulnerability. “You think I’m just feeding on you?” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You’re wrong. I’m drawn to you—not your body, not your lust, but you. Your fire, your strength, your soul. I’ve never felt this before, not in centuries.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. His words were a lifeline, but you couldn’t trust them, not yet. “Prove it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Prove I’m more than a source of power to you.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was soft, almost reverent. “Come with me,” he said. “Be my queen, rule my world by my side. You’d leave this life behind—your world, your mortality—but I’d give you everything. Power, pleasure, eternity.”

Your breath caught. The human world held little for you. An orphan, friendless, your life was a series of empty days and lonely nights, each one bleeding into the next. Seokjin had filled that void, given you something to feel, to want. But his world—unknown, dangerous, eternal—terrified you. The thought of losing him, though, hurt more, a sharp, twisting pain in your chest.

You searched his eyes, looking for a lie, for a hint of manipulation. All you saw was him—raw, open, waiting. “I’ll go,” you whispered, the words heavy with resolve.

He smiled, dark and triumphant, and kissed you, his touch igniting you all over again. “Then you’re mine,” he said, his voice a vow. “Forever.”

The room dissolved around you, the world fading into a swirl of shadow and light. You felt yourself slipping away, your body and soul bound to him as you stepped into his realm, leaving everything else behind. The unknown stretched before you, vast and uncharted, but with Seokjin by your side, you weren’t afraid. Not anymore.

A/n: Why I feel like I fucked up the ending? I don't know if this part turned out well or not but yeah I would like to know your feedback.

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