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fastandcarlos · 1 day ago

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My Home : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: the journey of how your long distance relationship is reunited once again 🛬

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, ynusername and 892,742 others

carlossainz55: day 50 of missing my best friend and all the little ordinary things that she somehow made feel extraordinary ✨⛅️

42,068 comments

username1: it’s so impressive how these two make long distance work so well 🥹

ynusername: can’t wait to come home and be back with you again 💞

carlossainz55: @/ynusername just a few more days to go amor 🥺

username2: is it bad that I’m also counting down the days until they’re reunited again??

danielricciardo: you two are incredible managing to keep things going even though you’re so far apart 👏🏻

username3: carlos always knows how to break our hearts with a soft caption 💔

charles_leclerc: you’ve managed to do a really subtle job of letting us all know how much you miss her 😂

username4: the fact that he trusts her enough to cook with her too…

alexandrasaintmleux: if it makes you feel any better I also can’t wait for yn to be home 🥳

username5: can’t wait for these two to be back together again and blessing us with content!

landonorris: I keep telling you that we can go for coffee together but you don’t listen!

carlossainz55: @/landonorris there are certain things that just aren’t the same with you 🫢

username6: 50 whole damn days since we last saw the dream team side by side 😭

georgerussell63: and here I am thinking a week is a long time to be without my girl…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, lilyzneimer and 113,048 others

ynusername: day 64 of being away from your handsome face. can’t wait for beach days like these once again soon 🩵

15,897 comments

username7: sorry yn but do you expect me to be okay after posting that middle photo!?

charles_leclerc: btw he’s had a countdown going down on his phone everyday since you left 😂

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc embarrassed to say I’ve got one too, on my home screen as well 😊

username8: please someone just end their suffering already and reunite them 💕

maxverstappen1: pls come and get your man soon, fed up of dealing with his lovesick whining 😝

username9: how anyone could survive being away from that handsome face is beyond me 😂

landonorris: just to clarify, you’re talking about carlos’ handsome face…you never know, it could be mine 😇

ynusername: @/landonorris as happy as I am to see you soon, it’s definitely carlos’ 😂

username10: he really is the definition of a soft boyfriend isn’t he…

alexandrasaintmleux: cannot wait to see your beautiful face opposite me at a coffee table soon ☕️

username11: over two months they’ve been apart and now in a matter of days they’ll be together again, like a fairytale ✨

carlossainz55: home is ready and waiting for you, as are my open arms 🫂🥰

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 I can’t wait to be back in your hold again 😍

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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 128,069 others

ynusername: race day -1, settling down for my last race away from home, you got this darling ❤️🏎️

17,492 comments

carlossainz55: sorry that I couldn’t bring home the win love, maybe next time when you’re back there with me 💞

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 ik you were secretly holding on so I got to be there in person 😂❤️

username12: I can’t begin to tell you how happy this post makes me knowing you’ll be home soon 🥺

username13: now this is the kinda setup I need for race day!!

carmenmmundt: wish I was there to snuggle under that blanket with you

lilymhe: @/carmenmmundt I’ve already bagsied the blanket for movie night when yn’s home 😘

username14: notice how it’s carlos in the lead with yn watching too ☺️

charles_leclerc: thank god I don’t have to deal with his moping around without you for anymore races 🙌🏻

georgerussell63: petition for you to make hot chocolate for all of us when you’re back in the paddock too 😏

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 not a chance with how needy you guys are 😂

username15: it’s adorable how yn has always made sure to be watching the races even though she’s away with work

landonorris: I’ve lost count of how many times he’s told me that you’ll be at the next race, he’s so excited yn!!

username16: their interactions somehow melt my heart every single time they update 🫠

danielricciardo: on behalf of every driver, please save us from carlos telling us how much he misses you constantly asap

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 1,583,293 others

charles_leclerc: my last few days of filling the large yn shaped hole that has been in my sweetie’s life ❤️🥹

104,587 comments

username17: I’m not ready to say goodbye to this pairing soon 😭

ynusername: thank you for taking such great care of my best friend leclerc ❤️

username18: charles has somehow become carlos’ emotional support system over the past couple of months lmao

danielricciardo: I also don’t think I’m stable enough for this bromance to end just yet…

username19: I’m sure yn is beyond grateful for the fact that carlos has had you by his side charles

carlossainz55: what would I do without my honey right by my side!?

username20: I’ve got high expectations for alex next time yn has to go on a work trip 😂

landonorris: guessing that carlando means nothing to you anymore then @/carlossainz55

carlossainz55: @/landonorris every time I came to you you just laughed in my face remember?? 🙄

username21: why do I get the feeling yn is coming home just to be a third wheel…

alexandrasaintmleux: can you boys just get a room and have done with it please 🤦🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc: @/alexandrasaintmleux just tell us you’re jealous without telling us you’re jealous

username22: the way he just calls him sweetie as if that’s the norm 🥹

alex_albon: please come and meet me to pass on all your tips and advice for next year 😂

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liked by charles_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial and 129,573 others

ynusername: day 1 of being back in my favourite place on earth…home 🏡❤️

21,958 comments

carlossainz55: the house finally feels like a home again with you back inside 💕

username23: I can’t believe they’re finally back together again, this is so exciting!!

charles_leclerc: welcome home yn!! can’t wait to catch up with you this weekend!!

username24: apparently carlos was front of the line at arrivals making sure he got to her as quick as he could 😭

scuderiaferrari: we’re looking forward to welcoming you back into the garage this weekend ❤️

ynusername: @/scuderiaferrari can’t wait to catch up with the whole team and watch a race again!!

landonorris: I’m happy you’re reunited but I’m more happy that he’s finally gonna have a smile on his face again

username25: the way he carries her suitcase so effortlessly has me all kinds of giddy

georgerussell63: welcome back to monaco, we’ve all missed you so much!

username26: I’ve never been more excited for two people that I don’t even know…

maxverstappen1: he cancelled our game of padel today for this…I’ll let him off just this once 😂

ynusername: @/maxversrappen1 if you ask carlos he’ll say it’s definitely worth it 😂

username27: this means we finally get to see yn back at race weekend again 🎉

alexandrasaintmleux: I need to see you asap, missed you so much 💞

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liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 and 124,068 others

ynusername: reunited with my second home, I forgot how good red looked on me. good luck to the best team on the grid this weekend, so happy to be back and cheer you on in person 🫶🏻☺️

22,604 comments

username28: damn we really did miss seeing you at a race weekend yn 🏎️

carlossainz55: you have no idea how happy I am to have you back with me again 💞

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 I bet it’s just as happy as I am to be back with you and the team again ✨

username29: hoping for a great result this weekend now that carlos has you back again

landonorris: patiently waiting for you to come and visit me, or do you plan on betraying me like carlos did??

ynusername: @/landonorris I promise I will come and see you at some point this week 🫂

username30: what are we supposed to do when red no longer is your colour next year??

danielricciardo: you must be pretty close to trying on every colour of the grid now 😂

carmenmmundt: um excuse me there better be a carmen plan somewhere in your schedule for this weekend 👀

username31: the camera somehow focused on you more than the cars in quali today 😂

oscarpiastri: it was lovely to finally meet you after hearing SO SO many stories about you!

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri I can only apologise for how much he talks about me ☺️

username32: the moment we’ve all been waiting for for so long 🤩

username33: please never leave us for a race weekend without you ever again!!

charles_leclerc: this has by far already been my most peaceful race weekend in a very long time all thanks to you!!

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liked by landonorris, ynusername and 1,048,271 others

carlossainz55: turns out my lucky charm really was the missing piece all along. thank you my love for coming back home and bringing me the luck I needed to be top of the podium again 🏆😍

89,473 comments

username34: does this mean that yn is never allowed to leave for a race ever again???

charles_leclerc: couldn’t be prouder of the race you put together this weekend, good job sweetie!!

username35: we’re all so proud of you carlos and your lucky charm 🫶🏻

scuderiaferrari: congratulations on such an amazing result carlos, the whole team is so proud of you ❤️🏎️

username36: he really was waiting for the moment for when yn could be there to celebrate too 😭

georgerussell63: that was incredible, saving your best for your girlfriend I see 😉

alex_albon: smashed it my friend, there was no catching you today 🚀

username37: this weekend has just reminded me just how much I adore these two humans!!

landonorris: buzzing to see you back where you belong on that top step mi amigo

username38: yn has to stick around forever now if she’s a lucky charm!

danielricciardo: it’s funny the effect a loved one can have isn’t it!? we all knew you were racing just to impress yn anyway 😂

username39: this weekend really couldn’t have gone more perfectly 😭

ynusername: I didn’t think you were being serious when you said you were waiting for me 😂

carlossainz55: @/ynusername a race win isn’t a win without you by my side 💕

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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authorhjk1 · 1 day ago

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Dreamy Pink

(Shin Ryujin X Male Reader)

By @i-am-lifeform24

“The pink one is Ryujin being an actual princess (haven't decided on the time period yet). This one is completely the opposite to the black one. Here is Ryujin in control. And her advisor is the guy she uses when she needs to get off.” - Inspiration quote from @authorhjk1

“No.”

“Your highness, they are all very accomplished, winners of multiple wars!”

“Accomplished, but ugly. No.”

“Princess, these nations have stood with us for centuries. Surely you can think it o-”

Ryujin stares down the impassioned minister, crossing her arms, her pink, flowing dress sparkling as she looks up at the man from across the round table. “I see no reason why I have to do anything, minister. I will not be marrying any of these slimy men.”

You sigh, shooting the old man an apologetic glance as the other members of the council fidget in their seats. The princess has always been… difficult. Even standing behind her, you can feel how uncomfortable the room is getting. Funny, that all the most powerful lords and ladies of the country can’t get through to a much younger girl.

Steeling yourself, you take a step forward, “My apologies, minister, perhaps the princess misunderstands.” Ryujin’s catlike eyes dart left, the princess giving you a warning, shifting her lithe body in the pink mass of cotton so she can better stare up at you. You can feel the other members of the table hold their breath. Here it comes.

“Misunderstand what exactly, advisor?” Her voice is icy, pointed, like she can’t imagine why you would say something so stupid. Well, it is your job after all, and whether she likes it or not, you were put in this position to keep her in check, so keep her in check you will.

“That while you are the most beautiful princess on the continent, you are also the leader of the most powerful country on this side of the world.” You start, gesturing to the other nobles of the table. They straighten up, morning sunlight peeking through stained glass to illuminate their battle-worn features, as if they’ve broken free from the spell of a very bratty princess.

Ryujin raises her eyebrow at you, slightly nodding for you to go on. You watch her dress shine in the soft light, taking a deep breath, “You have to at least listen their proposals out. Agree to the minister’s plan to let the princes visit you.”

Ryujin scoffs, “I don’t want their mud on my floors. This castle was built by my father, and you want to bring these grungy foreigners here? To my paradise?”

You lean forward, and Ryujin’s eyes widen as your strong voice echoes throughout the ornate chamber, “A paradise built by alliances. Strong, long-lasting, powerful alliances. Do you believe that your honorable parents fell in love by the grace of God, your highness?”

Ryujin’s eyes narrow, and the whole room holds its breath. You glance at the minister across the table, the man slowly sitting back down, eyes wide, his robes shifting as he tries to sneak back into his seat. Your heart catches in your throat. It’s never a good idea to mention the late King and Queen in front of her.

Maybe if you apologize before it sets in, she’ll forgive you. You meet Ryujin’s gaze, stammering, ‘N-not to say that your parents were without grace. I’m sure that they would be very proud of you, your high-“

“You’re right.”

Wait, what?

Ryujin smiles at you, her dark eyes crinkling as she exhales, breaking her stare. She turns back to the council. “My Advisor is right. I apologize for my own lack of foresight in the matter of my engagement. Minister, let it be know that I will receive these… princes. I will leave the details up to you.”

“A…. A wise choice, your highness! We shall begin constructing the plans right away.” The old man shoots up with a wide smile, the other council members filling the room with excited applause. You look down at Ryujin, and the princess cracks a smirk at you, as if her jolt of anger was all one big, convoluted, prank.

You gulp, giving her a quick smirk back, stepping behind the sovereign’s large makeshift throne as the council chatters on. Ryujin straightens her back, adjusting her tiara to sit on perfectly on her neatly combed locks. Here, at the head of the table, she almost seems like a real ruler, not an aggressive orphan made to reign way too early.

Soon, the meeting concludes, and you find yourself at the large mahogany bowing to every council member that takes their leave. “Thank you, duchess. And yes, we will make sure that the princess attends your name day celebration!” You lean forward, holding the gloved hand of an older woman, the smile lines on her cheeks deepening as you smile at her. She leans beside your ear, letting the other nobles pass behind her, “Thank the Lord for you, advisor. The poor girl barely has things together as it is…” You straighten, giving the older woman a sideways grin, “Now that’s our sovereign you are talking about, duchess, with how large the kingdom is, I would say that she is doing much better than any of us could.”

The duchess opens her mouth to respond, “Oh no advisor, i’m sure….” Suddenly, her eyes widen, staring at the doorway behind you, and she trails off. “Nevermind! I shall see you on Saturday. Your highness.” She curtsies, and you turn around, just in time to see Ryujin, with her guards flanking her, and her arms across her chest.

“P-princess! I apologize, I'm blocking your way.” You start, stepping aside in an ill attempt to escape. With a bang, the large doors swing shut, and the guards shift uneasily as Ryujin grabs you by the ear and pulls you along the hallway.

“Ow! Princess! I was just escorting the duchess out! I didn’t mean anything by-” You grimace, the sharp pain coursing through your body as she drags you past ornate paintings and ancient keepsakes. The royal is surprisingly strong, her long legs strutting confidently on the velvet carpet. You wonder what set her off this time. She handled the meeting well, really, really well. If anything, you’re more than proud that she managed to avoid exploding at the council, or at you, for once, so what could she possibly want with you now.

Eventually, the thump of her heels on the soft flooring stops, and you find yourself in front of a large, gilded door. The guards follow closely behind, gloves gripping the hilts of their swords tightly as Ryujin addresses them. “Leave us, now. And make sure that none enter this wing for the next few hours. I will have a few words with my advisor.”

You shoot a pleading look at the knights, almost feeling their pity through their plated armor. ‘Sorry, boss. We’ll make it up to you.’ they seem to say, bowing quickly before marching away to the entrance of the castle wing. God, you’ve really done it now.

Ryujin drags you inside, not wasting a second, pushing you up against the warm wood. Your breath catches in your throat, the messy, victorian style bedroom a lazy backdrop to the princess’ intense stare. She pushes her covered breasts onto your chest. Arms, they stay pinned at your side, like she’s pressing a painting into a wall. Ryujin slowly cranes her lips beside your ear, “I barely have things together?”

You gulp, heart catching in your throat as you look down at the beautiful woman. Her gaze is icy, hands slowly rubbing the outside of your trousers. “P-princess, the duchess simply worries for you, we don’t have to do this again.” you squeak, like a mouse, hunted by this very turned on, catlike royal.

Ryujin does nothing but smirk, pulling your underwear down quickly, dropping to her knees as the cold morning air wraps around your erect member. Your hands slowly droop down, but you stay plastered on the wood, like she’s still pinning you there, like her body is still on you.

“Heavy. Good. You’re filling me up today.” The princess cups your balls, her fingers dribbling against the puckered skin as she squints up at you. Amidst short breaths, you can’t help but marvel at how the orange-yellow light glazes her skin, the thin, pink fabric of her dress covered in dark spots as Ryujin’s wetness spreads from her legs. She’s beautiful, and after that disaster of a meeting, she needs a way to relieve her stress.

Ryujin’s tongue darts out, teasing the leaking tip of your cockhead as she grips you by your base, “Hey.” Informal. Casual. Crude. She looks up into your eyes, and you stare back down at her, sweat forming on your forehead as you can’t help but throb in her soft hands. “Yes, princess?” you reply, your voice breathy.

Her gaze softens, her eyes now half-lidded as she slowly licks up the length of your shaft. Her dress has creeped up her thighs at this point, and you can’t help but notice her bare pussy lips in between her kneeling legs. Ryujin stares at you, a firm warning exiting her precum smeared lips, “Don’t ever embarrass me again… daddy.”

You harden at the words, wanting nothing more than to grab the princess by the neck and throw her onto the bed. Ryujin can tell, making a show out of keeping one hand jerking on your cock, while the other pulls her dress down her breasts, the mink revealing perfect, perky breasts.

She smiles, “I’m going to drain you now, and you don’t get to cum until I say so, alright?” Ryujin accentuates the last word with a kiss on your cockhead, the skin wet with her spit. You give her a slow nod, gritting your teeth. She’s asking you for the impossible.

But she’s also your princess. You are sworn to her.

“Yes… your highness.” You croak out the words as Ryujin smirks at you, “Good daddy, now come to bed, i’m riding you until you fill me with your seed.”

You stumble forward, watching as your princess sauntily sways her now naked hips. No undergarments in the council meeting? You’d have ot tell her off later, but in the meantime, the idea only does more to keep your cock hard and ready. Her pink dress stays bunched up around her tight waist, and you watch as her ass sways in the morning light, the dresses and books strewed around the floor nothing but obstacles for her long, supple legs.

Ryujin crawls onto the bed, peeling the rest of the pink fabric off her body, then kneeling on her heels as she crosses her arms, “Faster, daddy. I have a kingdom to run.”

Hastily, you strip, sitting on the edge of the bed, then swinging your legs so they are on either side of the kneeling girl. You’re careful not to meet her eyes. No matter how turned on you are, she’s in charge.

Soon, you’re lying down on your back, the expensive, gold patterned furs digging into the small of your back as your princess straddles you. Ryujin’s hair falls around her face in the soft yellow light, and you watch as her petite tits rise and fall, the princess grabbing you by the shaft, your cockhead rubbing against her pussy lips as she stares down at you.

Her eyes roll back into her head, “God, daddy, if only that old hag could watch me handle this.

“Fuck!” You groan. With a slap, the princess’ ass bounces on your thighs as she roughly takes you to the hilt. She’s always rough, calling you daddy even if you’re her toy, but a part of you loves it, loves letting her take control, loves letting the princess, in a twisted way, worship you with her body.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Ryujin moans, grabbing handfuls of the blankets around her as she bounces on your cock. You feel her walls get accustomed to you, the tightness suffocating, wringing you in a wet embrace.

You look up. She’s not even looking at you. Her Tiara stays skewed on her head, her breasts jumping with every bounce, her small hands resting on your thighs as the princess arches her back, gyrating her hips onto your waiting cock.

“P-princess, it’s so good.” You moan, hands reaching down to grab her soaked ass.

A slap resounds through the large room. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to touch me until I milk you dry, daddy.” Ryujin warns, her tongue coming out of her moaning mouth as she slaps your hands away, continuing her impassioned ride.

You give up, resorting to grabbing handfuls of cloth, watching as your beloved princess cums on your cock, over and over again, her breasts lathered in sweat, her taut stomach rippling under the force of her bouncing.

Ryujin opens one eye, panting, to grab you by the neck, “Kiss me, daddy…” You hesitate for a moment, wishing to savor the feeling of her drawing circles on your crotch, the glorious sensation of her royal pussy grasping onto every ridge of your unworthy cock, but in the end, you sit up.

“You’re beautiful, princess… please, i’m so close.” You beg, letting the girl hold you by the cheeks as your tongue explores her mouth, her hips still riding you, albeit slower, more deliberate, as if she wants to savor every moment too.

Ryujin looks up at you, her dark eyes mesmerizing as you feel the blankets shift. “Here, you belong to me… all your cum, daddy… it belongs to me…” She whispers slowly, pausing to grimace, as if your cock is somehow surprising her with pleasure after all these trysts.

You exhale, feeling it bubble in your core. Something about your aloof, icy princess demanding for you, demanding for your seed, burns all thoughts of stopping away. You need to cum in her, now.

Your lips find Ryujin’s neck, sucking on her clear, unblemished skin as your rough hands find her ass. This time, she doesn’t turn you away, the princess’ smile only getting bigger, as if she’s been waiting for you to take charge.

”Mmm, fuck! Fuck! Breed me! Breed your princess!” Ryujin screams, her hips now still as you fuck into her fast and hard. She’s sitting on your lap now, your chests pushed together, her breasts warm as you hammer into the royal’s pussy.

“Y-yes princess! It’s coming!” You grit your teeth, focusing on delaying your release for as long as you can, until the princess wraps her long legs around you, rocking her pussy lips on the base of your crotch. “Oh… oh! Daddy!” Ryujin groans, grinding her pussy onto you, not allowing you to thrust, her walls clenching, begging for your seed as she pins you down with the flower between her legs.

“I’m coming!” You roar, kissing Ryujin’s jaw as the princess’ eyes shoot open. She moans loudly as you fill her, your hot, virile cum making her body relax. You feel her in your arms, her tits shaking, her ass trembling as you fill the next in line to the throne with your seed.

It’s almost comical, that she’d get so frustrated with a stupid meeting, that this.is the only way she could relax.

Hey, you’re not complaining, sighing as Ryujin topples onto your chest, her hot, deep breaths in your ear her pussy still milking the last dribbles of cum from your cock.

You look down at her with a grin, “Is that all for this morning, your highness?”

Ryujin rolls her eyes, nestling into the crook of your neck, the fur blankets around you damp with the heat of your sex. “Mmm,..”

She flips you over, her legs spreading as you crouch above her, your cock exiting her pussy with a pop. Ryujin smiles, “No, daddy. This time, you’re going to use me.”

You smile, watching her bite her lip as the morning light fades. “As you wish, your highness.”

----------

Hi everyone!

This chapter was written by @i-am-lifeform24 . Thank you so much for the great chapter!

I hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Stay healthy!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #ryujin smut #ryujin itzy #itzy ryujin #shin ryujin #itzy smut #itzy

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 2 days ago

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House Calls.

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

Part three

1999:

Walking into a hair salon was an interesting experience. Pulling into an overly stuffed parking lot in futile anticipation of being in and out “in a decent time.” opening the salon door and walking into a room overflowing with peering eyes full of a mixture of both curiosity and judgment that covers you from your head to the bottom of your favorite shoes. Slinking down into chairs that go from stuffed and comfortable to hard as steel while waiting for the appointment that was due more than an hour ago. Out bursts of group laughter, “girllll, no she didn’t!” and “say what now?!” coupled with the familiar smell of hair sheen spray and neutralizing shampoo that seeps through the fog of sporadic steam that fills the air from the super-wattage, neck-burning hair dyers, steamers and marcel ‘top of your ear frying’ irons, reminds you that this is going to be long day.

Aaliyah Noelle Davenport sat in an unoccupied salon chair within a popular salon in Baton Rouge called Gina’s. Gina’s had been around for over ten years. The pages of her coloring book she was currently scribbling in with old crayons kept her busy so she wouldn’t go snooping around like last time. She burned her fingers touching a curling iron heater.

“He’s back home…coming to pick Aaliyah up in a few…”

Aaliyah’s mother, Rochelle, was currently doing a roller set on a client. She worked the rollers around thick strands of hair with her long, curved, golden nails. Rochelle was a hard working woman. She did hair and worked night shifts at a local motel to pay the bills. Anything to make up for Aaliyah’s father being in prison for six years.

She was the epitome of 90s fine: Rochelle embodied a beauty that was both timeless and undefinable, leaving a permanent imprint on anyone that crossed her path. Her unique blend of elegance, confidence, and charisma inspired and resonated with Aaliyah. That kind of fine isn’t just about looks — it’s about attitude, style, and an effortless grace.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you. Money can't make you anything…only your actions can make you something. Money can buy you things that make life easier but one thing it can’t buy is happiness…”

“Girl, stop acting like you ain’t happy he back home...”

One of her mother’s friends and fellow stylist, Donna, was flipping through one of many hair catalogs the shop owned.

“The less he know the better,” Rochelle added the final touches before she walked her client over to the hooded dryers, “It was one time, that’s it…”

“Rochelle, if you don’t calm your fucking nerves. He won’t ever find the fuck out if you don’t hush!”

“Okay, okay…shit–that’s him coming up right now. Aaliyah?”

“Mhm?” Aaliyah mumbled from her seat while coloring in a teddy bear.

“Your father is here…come on and get ya stuff. He’s gonna take you back to the house while I finish up. C’mon, little girl!”

Aaliyah frowned and pouted her lip while packing away her crayons and coloring book.

“Fix that face. You got homework to do…”

She climbed down from her seat and slipped her Barbie book bag over her shoulders. A candy painted Donk with shiny rims slowed to a stop outside of the salon and Aaliyah’s eyes lit up when she recognized her father’s low–cut ceasar with the deep waves. He shut his door and strolled over to the entrance of the salon with swagger.

Roland Davenport AKA Pressure. He was a smooth cat from Baton Rouge with a nefarious past and a deep love for his daughter. Aaliyah was his entire world.

“Is that my little girl! What’s up, Princess!”

He scooped up his six year old and spun her around. Aaliyah giggled joyfully while clinging onto her father’s crisp white tee. His skin was the deepest brown and blemish free. He flashed his pearly whites at her before giving her a kiss to the forehead. Roland put Aaliyah down and then he made his way over to Rochelle.

Aaliyah watched her parents hug each other affectionately. Their lips connected with a gluttonous passion. Roland’s hands roamed down to cuff Rochelle’s dump trunk and she squeezed his bulging biceps in return.

“Stop! Stop…I’m with a client…”

“How long ya gonna be, baby? I was thinking ‘bout taking my favorite girls out to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rochelle grinned flirtatiously, “Where to?”

“It’s a surprise…”

Aaliyah’s parents talked for a few more minutes before her dad led her out of the salon hand in hand. She skipped along the way. Roland opened the back door and took her back pack so that she could buckle in.

“Daddy, I wanna sit up front.” Aaliyah protested with her sweet little voice, “Please?”

“Liyah. You can’t sit up here today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Aaliyah hung her head before fastening her seatbelt. Roland made his way to the drivers side and climbed in.

“How was school today?” Roland questioned, staring back at his daughter through the rear view mirror.

“Good.” Aaliyah flashed a grin with no two front teeth.

“That’s not what ya momma told me…”

Her smile disintegrated.

Aaliyah fiddled with her pleated, khaki uniform skirt. She avoided her father’s gaze, afraid he’d appear angry and she would be in big trouble.

“Look at me, Liyah…”

She did as she was told, staring up at her father.

“I’m not mad. You had every right to defend yourself. ‘Dem lil’ boys won’t mess with you again after what ya did…”

Aaliyah had been dealing with constant bullying from two little boys in her first grade class. They would pull her long plats, kick the back of her chair, call her names, and other cruel things that always resulted in her crying in the bathroom.

“Now if these lil’ niggas wanna have kids of their own someday, they better leave my daughter alone or I’m putting foot in ass…”

Roland made a silly face at Aaliyah and she couldn’t help but to smile and laugh.

“How ‘bout we make a pit stop to grab a snowball?”

“YAY!!!” Aaliyah cheered, her little arms up in the air like she’d just had a victory lap.

Roland cranked the radio, Sho Nuff by 8ball & MJG blasting through the speakers. Aaliyah could feel the seat beneath her vibrate. She watched her father rap the lyrics, a sudden gush of humid air flooding the car when he let the windows down. Roland extended his arm from the window to greet people he knew, the Chevrolet Impala Donk slow gliding through the hood.

They pulled up to a snowball stand that was situated next to a bowling alley and roller-skate rink. Rolland turned his music down before looking back at Aaliyah over the headrest of his seat.

“Which flavor?”

“Georgia Peach!”

“Aight, munchkin. I’ll be back…”

Roland climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Aaliyah peered out of the open window, her eyes following her father’s retreating frame. What she hadn’t noticed, however, was the way an all black Escalade crept up, all four doors opening in unison.

Everything went in slow motion.

Repeated muzzle flashes sparked the air like it was the Fourth of July.

RAT–rat-rat-rat-rat!!!

Her scream pierced the air.

——

Those memories flooded Aaliyah’s mind that Wednesday morning. She’d woken up in good spirits, ready for her Ethics and Psychology class and a lunch date with a special someone. After showering, Aaliyah slipped on a pair of light grey leggings that molded into her hips, thighs, and booty. She paired it with a fitted, white T-shirt and low top Vans. Glasses on, messy hair pinned back with a claw clip, she threw on a denim jacket and collected her school bag near the front door.

Before she could even leave, a hard, booming knock on the storm door of her Shotgun House caused her forehead to wrinkle with surprise. She paused for a second before walking up to the door. Aaliyah brought one dark brown eye to the peephole.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Aaliyah flinched.

“Aaliyah! Open the door! I know you’re here!”

It was her junkie mother.

She didn’t look like herself.

Acne, dull skin, and self-inflicted wounds from picking at her face. Needle marks and collapsed veins from shooting up.

Rochelle was unrecognizable.

One look at her, and all the trauma from her youth flooded her mind. After her father was shot down, Rochelle went into a deep state of depression. She lost her job at the salon, and the pay checks from her motel job didn’t keep the bills paid. Rochelle had no choice but to seek help from a man. Any man that was willing. She sent Aaliyah away at the age of ten for a few years to live with her estranged grandmother, Ruby. Ruby was a strict, Christian woman with no tolerance for misbehavior or rebellion. She lived in a different Parrish in rural Louisiana, closer to Shelby Springs.

Aaliyah was made to do yard and farm work. She had Bible studies on weekends and couldn’t hang with many children because their parents weren’t ‘Godly Folk’. The only thing Aaliyah really enjoyed was horseback riding whenever her grandmother would visit a church friend. When Aaliyah was nearing fourteen, she started sneaking out to see an older boy. Word got around and Ruby lashed out on Aaliyah.

“I didn’t have sex with him! We were just kissing!”

Aaliyah wailed, hands raised to brace herself from her grandmother’s blows.

“You’re just like your mother! Can’t keep your legs closed! Don’t lie to me, Aaliyah! I know you slept with that boy!” Ruby shouted.

She couldn’t stay there any longer. Aaliyah called her mother that same night, begging her to come get her. Rochelle drove an hour out and when Ruby opened her door, Rochelle shoved past her mother.

“You put your hands on my child?! You evil bitch!”

Aaliyah watched from the top of the stairs with her packed bags. Rochelle and Ruby were in the middle of a screaming match.

“You asked for my help, remember?! She lives under my roof, she abides by my rules!” Ruby argued.

“But did I ask you to beat on my child?! Just the same ol’ shit with you! I can’t even rely on you to be there for my daughter—”

“OH! Now look who’s talking. You couldn’t even get your shit together after Roland died to be a mother. Which man is it now paying the bills, Rochelle?! Look at all this,” Ruby pointed to Rochelle’s jewelry and designer, “Don’t look like you struggling to me.”

Rochelle remained silent, scornful eyes glaring at Ruby.

“Aaliyah! Let’s go…”

She hadn’t seen her mother in almost four years. Rochelle looked…fancy.

“Sully is in the car…He drove me here…I missed you, Liyah…”

Ruby watched with folded arms. She locked eyes with Aaliyah, a look of guilt flashing across her face for just a second. They left without a backwards glance.

Aaliyah was very careful around Sully. He was a drug dealer, bringing home money and gifts to spoil Aaliyah. She became used to the revolving door of other criminals entering her home. She was just happy to with her mother again. Aaliyah focused on her studies and poured herself into cheerleading and hip hop majorette.

Eventually, things started to go downhill. Rochelle was introduced to harder drugs, Sully owed people money and he had gambling debts. Things in their home started to disappear, bills were piling up, and Sully turned violent. It took for Ruby and Aaliyah to fight back for Sully to finally leave. It opened the same wound of her father’s death, Rochelle unable to stay strong. Rochelle’s addiction became worse, so bad to the point that she would steal from her own daughter.

Aaliyah couldn’t handle it. As soon as she graduated high school, she got her own place and left her mother behind. It broke her heart, but in order for her to evolve, she needed to break free. Aaliyah hated working at Hooters, and when she turned twenty–six, she started stripping at Crazy Horse.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you…”

Aaliyah opened the front door, but the storm door remained locked. Aaliyah stared down at her mother. Rochelle looked desperate and more frail than the last time she showed up. She’d relapsed again.

“Hey, baby…”

Rochelle pressed her hands against the door.

“Can you help me? I need some cash—”

“I gave you five hundred dollars when I last saw you, momma. I see you back on that shit again…”

Rochelle hung her head in shame.

“I’m trying, Aaliyah. You don’t understand how hard it is.”

“You’ve tried for over twenty years now. I’m tired of helping you and all you do is use me. Weren’t you staying with Mama Ruby?”

She definitely wasn’t staying with Aaliyah.

“I can’t stay wit’ you?”

“Hell no.” Aaliyah quipped.

“I’m your fucking mother!”

“Did you forget what happened the last time you lived with me?! You stole shit from my house! I don’t trust you!”

Aaliyah didn’t need this. She had to go to school.

“Please…please, Li–Li. I’m hungry…I’m broke…pleaseeee…”

Aaliyah stared her mother down with a venomous glance. There will always be a soft spot for Rochelle, but the repeated hurt was exhausting. Seeing her mother like this broke her heart. She just couldn’t stop using.

“Okay…”

Aaliyah opened her storm door. Rochelle slipped inside quickly. Aaliyah kept a watchful eye on her mother while she admired Aaliyah’s cozy home.

“C’mon…”

They entered Aaliyah’s kitchen. Rochelle climbed onto a bar stool, peering around with a nervous look. Aaliyah opened her fridge, bringing out leftover catfish and grits she’d prepared last night for dinner.

“That piece right there…yeah…”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

She gave her mother the thickest piece of catfish and a good portion of cheesy grits. While the food heated, Aaliyah reclined her plush bottom against the counter. She stared her mother down, unable to shake the pain that fought to bubble to the surface.

“How’s school?” Rochelle questioned, unable to avoid picking at her skin.

Aaliyah tampered down her resentment and cleared her throat to speak.

“Good. I’ll be graduating in June.”

“That’s good, baby. Real good…June…How many tickets you gettin’?”

“Uhm,” Aaliyah checked on the catfish, “Not really sure yet.”

“Still dancing?”

Aaliyah rubbed her arms.

“No.”

The smell of the crispy fish wafted her mother’s nose. Aaliyah opened the oven to retrieve it. The grits on the stove top were nice and smooth now. After plating the food, Aaliyah wrapped it with aluminum foil and slid it across the kitchen island to her mother. She opened her pantry to grab a plastic fork and knife, securing it with some paper towels before holding it out towards her mother.

“I can’t sit here and eat?”

“You know you can’t…”

“Aaliyah—”

“Look, I have class. I’m gon’ miss it if you don’t take this shit and leave—”

“LOOK,” Rochelle stood, “I’m sorry you hate me so much. I’m sorry about all that shit, but I’m still your mother, Li–Li.”

“Oh? Last time I remember you being a mother was when I was six years old. Anything after that don’t count.” Aaliyah fired back.

Rochelle parted her cracked lips to speak, but her words stilled in her throat. Her tears flowed down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her dingy sleeve. Aaliyah stood before her with a rigid expression.

“Okay, I’ll leave…”

Rochelle grabbed her plate of food and Aaliyah stepped out of the way for her to walk in front of her. Tears prickled her eyes but she hastily pulled herself together. Aaliyah followed her mother towards the front door. She opened it, unable to reach her mother’s gaze.

“I love you, Li–Li…”

A solemn tear cascaded down Aaliyah’s face.

“…think you could look out for me?”

Aaliyah released a sigh before reaching into her bag. She plucked out whatever cash she had– one hundred and fifty dollars– handing it over to her mother.

Rochelle accepted it shamefully.

“Thank you, Li–Li. Take care of yourself…”

——

Professor Richmond carried his brown leather briefcase with him into the lecture hall. There were already students present the more he approached his desk in his brown dress shoes. His oceanic eyes swept the rows of students, his gaze zeroed into a vacant desk. Bringing his Apple Watch up, he was right on schedule. She would be arriving late today it seems.

Terry couldn’t go the remainder of his weekend into the early weekday without Aaliyah crossing his mind. She invaded and consumed him without her physical presence. He was two grand broker and overjoyed. He’d spend more on her in a millisecond. That shapely body is a walking sin. He found himself daydreaming of how it would feel to press his muscles into the softness of her curves. How would the curl of his biceps feel around her thighs? The ridges of his abdomen beneath her hands as she explored?

“I hope you all read up on Darwin and The Moral Sense. We’re jumping straight into discussion…”

Terry removed his navy blue suit jacket, then he rolled up the sleeves to his white, button down shirt that he wore tucked into matching navy blue slacks. He used a red Expo marker to write: Chapter Three of The Descent of Man. After capping the marker, he turned his attention to the class. With his pointer finger, he pushed his glasses back from the bridge of his nose.

“The keystone significance of morality in human distinctness is clearly asserted by Darwin in the first sentence…and the quote says….”

Terry snapped his fingers before pointing at a student within the second row with their hand raised. A white male with wooly, dark brown hair and a hooked nose.

“I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animals—”

“The moral sense of conscience is by far the most important, correct, James. But why is that?”

He cast his penetrating eyes across his students before flicking his gaze at the door. Another student bravely raised their hand and Terry motioned for them to speak. He continued to lecture shortly after that.

“We know from his notebooks that Darwin was reading the contemporary philosophical literature about moral behavior in 1837…”

As he continued, pacing in front of his desk, hands in the pockets of his slacks, the absence of Aaliyah weighed heavy on him. Minutes ticked away and soon enough, class was dismissed. Terry spoke with a student after class about the grade he’d given them for the midterm paper before packing away his things and leaving.

He made it back to his makeshift office space, shut the door and shuffled inside, careful not to knock his briefcase into stacks of decades old textbooks and files. With his thumb and pointer finger, he flicked on his table lamp, a yellow glow igniting the space. The swivel chair situated at his rectangular, wooden desk creaked slight as he settled down. Terry cracked his wrists, a habit of his when he felt too wound up.

iPhone in hand, he found Aaliyah’s contact.

“Here,” Terry handed Aaliyah his phone, “Put your number in.”

Aaliyah stared up at Terry through her curled lashes with a smile that enticed him into a further aroused state. She held out her small hand and made a come hither motion. Terry felt his phone slip from his fingertips and watched her with a sharp gaze and a slight smirk. She typed away, and he caught her eye before she saved it.

Terry texted her phone later that evening and Aaliyah replied with a kiss emoji.

Terry: Goodnight, Beautiful ❤️

Aaliyah: Nite Professor 😘

He texted her on Sunday, not saying much, just a simple greeting. He didn’t want to come off too strong, although he was fiendish for her attention.

Terry: Hi, Aaliyah. Hope you slept well ❤️ Any plans for today?

Aaliyah: Hi 😏 slept well thanks for asking. how was your sleep? & I’m currently out to brunch with friends.

Terry: You’re welcome. had a great rest. Brunch is fun. I’m sure you look great 😌

Aaliyah: I do 😉

Terry: SO BEAUTIFUL 😍

Aaliyah: Thank you ❤️ can’t wait to see you on Wednesday.

Terry: I’m looking forward to it ❤️

Terry sent Aaliyah a new text.

Terry: Hey, is everything okay?

It wasn’t like her to miss class. Terry unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He stood to stretch his sore legs from his workout earlier, easing his way over to the only window in his office. Terry looked out the window. The sky was tar-black and the large clouds seemed as if they were moving towards him. He heard a tapping on the window and then it became a pitter-patter. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray and he could hear the murmuring of the rain through the window. It sounded like the buzzing of angry bees.

Buzz Buzz

Terry back tracked to his desk, reaching over and grabbing his phone.

Aaliyah: I’m sorry I missed class, Terry. Everything isn’t okay actually. I wasn’t feeling it. Can I call you?

Terry: Yes

He answered immediately.

Terry took a seat, “Hello?”

“Hi…”

Her voice sent chills down his spine.

Terry sensed her sadness.

“Want to talk about it?”

“…Can we still meet for lunch?”

“We can. It’s raining pretty bad out. Sure you’ll be okay driving?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m standing on my back porch right now…looks like it’s slowing down.”

“Okay. Uh…I was thinking Noir. It’s a nice jazz inspired restaurant and it’s a great vibe for cozy and intimate dining. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay. I can meet you there. I know Noir.”

“Okay, drive safely, love.” Terry said.

“I will, you too. See you there.”

——

Noir didn’t have many patrons that afternoon, and Terry wasn’t complaining. He scooted himself into a booth, the dim light hanging above him so dull as if a shade had been cast upon it. His wet dress shoes squeaked slightly as he made himself comfortable. Terry ordered two filtered waters with lemon and hot water to soak the silverware. His legs swung back and forth beneath the booth table anxiously. Eyes that appeared turquoise glanced towards the entrance and he made out the silhouette of Aaliyah Davenport entering.

She must’ve gotten caught in the rain. She was dressed casually, a large Louis Vuitton tote bag over her right shoulder and a denim jacket flung over her left arm. She paused, eyes searching for Terry. He leaned further out of the booth and waved her down. Aaliyah fixed her gaze on him and a small smile graced her beautiful lips. Terry watched her saunter over, and the further she approached, the more her smile brightened.

Terry stood, fixing his pants since they had ridden up on his thighs and bulged around his crotch. Aaliyah slowed down to a stop before him, an awkward pause with nervous glances between them. Ultimately, Terry opened his arms and Aaliyah giggled before wrapping her arms around him. Terry caught a whiff of her hair; coconut and hibiscus. Mmm…he could feel the slight dampness of her curls through his dress shirt.

Her T-shirt beneath his fingertips was slightly wet from the rain droplets. Aaliyah broke away from him and gave him one last look before settling into the booth. Terry followed, situated across from her. He loved how natural and beautiful she looked. Her curls were slightly heat damaged at the ends, giving it personality. She wasn’t wearing her glasses today, Terry able to enjoy those pretty brown eyes again. Her hoop earrings swung as she swept hair from her eyes.

“I ordered us some water for now if that’s okay.” Terry mentioned.

“That’s ‘awrite with me, Professor.”

She has such a cute voice. Honeyed.

“I hope I didn’t miss anything crucial. I’m sorry.” Aaliyah apologized.

“Don’t be. We discussed chapter three…have you read it?”

“I have. No assignments?” Aaliyah replied.

“No—Aaliyah, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t care to talk about class. He wanted to know what was bothering her. She looked so saddened. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Uh…it’s a lot. I don’t wanna pour my shit out on you.”

“I’m willing to listen, if you’ll let me. No pressure…”

Aaliyah tilted her head and considered his words. Their water arrived and the waiter was ready to take their orders. Aaliyah hadn’t even looked over the menu.

“Give us another minute, please? Thanks…”

Aaliyah started flipping through the menu. The conical body of the saxophone in the background soothing.

Terry decided to order them an appetizer. Mini crab bites. He wasn’t too sure what to order for lunch.

“Do you like crab bites?” Terry asked.

“I do. That sounds good,” Aaliyah peered up at him with a timid smile, “I was thinking of getting a salmon ceasar salad.”

“Tasty,” Terry stroked his goatee, “I’ll probably do a shrimp Po’Boy.”

Their waiter circled back and Terry ordered everything. Alone again, they sipped their water and caught each other’s eye. Aaliyah pushed the wedge of lemon in her glass down further with her straw. She released a sigh before leaning against the table.

“My momma showed up today. Right when I was leaving for school.”

“Ya’ momma? I take it you’re not happy about that…”

Aaliyah’s eyes glistened. Terry wanted to reach out and stroke her soft cheek.

“My mom is a drug addict. Been an addict since I was sixteen.”

Terry allowed what she revealed to him to settle into his mind. He gave her a slow nod, and his eyes fixated on her deeper.

Aaliyah continued with a shaky voice, “After my father was killed, she became depressed and she blamed herself for the longest time. I was there when it happened��saw the whole thing,” Aaliyah rubbed her arms, “He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year and he was shot…”

Terry watched her straighten her back and sniffle, trying her best to calm herself down.

“My momma’s been in and out of rehab. I’ve help her, my grandmomma helped her…she stole from me, disappointed me every single time…” Aaliyah stared down at her hands, “And all she can think to do is show up on my doorstep with her hands out. That broke me.”

Terry twisted his full lips and his eyes fell to her hands. He watched the way her fingers fiddled. With an impulse so strong, he covered her hands with his much larger ones, stroking them with his thumbs. Aaliyah watched the way his hands worked to sooth her. Like he was massaging the stress out of her. Aaliyah exhaled, and then she locked eyes with Terry.

“I love her so much…”

“I know you do, I can see it…I can feel it.” Terry spoke softly.

He released her hands so she could thumb away a tear.

“I’m so sorry, Aaliyah. Sorry about your father. Sorry about your mom…”

“Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. I know this is supposed to be a nice lunch. I feel like I’m ruining it with my fuckin’ bullshit.”

“There’s nothing ruined, love. I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to open up to me about it. I just don’t like seeing you like this…your mom isn’t willing to get help?”

“That’s the thing,” Aaliyah took a sip of her water to help get rid of the lump in her throat, “She’s been in and out of rehab plenty of times. It’s this guy she keeps running back to. I don’t really remember his name…all I know is that he’s a dealer. She’s always had a thing for criminals.”

“Your grandmother, what’s up with that?—am I asking too many questions?”

“No, no,” Aaliyah shook her head, “My grandma is…her and my mom have always had a strained relationship. She’s attempted to help, but it never works out. There’s a lot of unresolved issues and my mom just can’t stick around long enough to deal wit’ it, ya know?”

“I get it. What was your father like?”

Aliyah frowned slightly, “He was so funny. Had so much swagger to ‘em. Loved cars. He got himself mixed up in some shit. He was doing a favor for a friend that turned out to be a robbery and it landed him in prison.”

She had this faraway look in her eyes, as if she were recalling the nostalgic feeling of being with her dad.

“…I saw him…die…and…” Aaliyah exhaled, “Took me a while to shake it…”

“Damn,” Terry hung his head, “Aaliyah, that’s heavy…”

Terry squeezed her hands and sought out her gaze. Aaliyah looked across at him and a single tear cascaded down her cheek. Terry released her hand and lifted from his seat, scooting in next to her. He snatched up a few napkins and dabbed her face gently.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, Aaliyah…so sorry…”

One hand rubbed her shoulder while she bawled up the used napkin in her hand. With one last sniffle, Aaliyah turned her brown eyes that reminded him of cognac through a glass and just then, she leaned in and those lips he’d desired to feel grazed his cheek with a feather–like touch before molding into his skin with a pressure so soothing his eyelash’s fluttered in satisfaction.

“Thanks for listening,” Aaliyah whispered in his ear.

Terry turned his head at an angle towards her. He gave her a searing, sideways glance.

“You’re welcome. Anytime…”

“Crab bites…”

Startled, Terry leaped up from his seat and returned to his side of the booth. Aaliyah thanked the waiter and they put in their orders. Terry and Aaliyah shared the appetizer. After chewing, Aaliyah licked her lips before speaking.

“Tell me a little more about Terry Richmond.”

Terry gave Aaliyah an attractive half–smirk.

“Ask me and you shall receive.”

“Why teaching? Is that something you’ve always had a passion for?”

“That’s a really good question. Uh…yes. I was an instructor when I spent time in the Marines. I trained Marines for combat and firearms. Each day was new and exciting. I’ve always had this…desire to share knowledge, inspire others, and make a positive impact. Although my pops wanted me to continue into the Marines, I fell in love with Psychology. So…I got my PhD a year ago, and here I am.”

Aaliyah sat her face into her hands with her elbows propped up on the table, listening to him like he was retelling a fairytale story. Her eyes sparkled with joy at listening to him drone on about moving to North Carolina with his parents after Katrina, enlisted into the Marines, finished his undergrad, living there up until the age of twenty–seven before he moved back to Louisiana to attend LSU. Both of his parents are still together and living in North Carolina. Their food arrived and they tucked in, talking in between bites.

Terry was happy that Aaliyah is in better spirits. She smiled and giggled and it warmed his heart. She thanked him for cheering her up. Terry was honored. The topic veered to hobbies and interests. Aaliyah shared that she used to be a majorette dancer.

“Fishing? Living outdoors? Wow. I grew up doing farm work and riding horses but nothing that deep,” Aaliyah responded with a giggle.

“I can take you sometime…show you what it’s like.”

Terry cocked his head to the side and stared at Aaliyah. She held onto his gaze, the tip of her tongue peeking through her teeth. Terry wanted to wrap his full lips around her tongue and suck on it.

“So…is it a date then? Taking me fishing and camping, Professor?” Aaliyah teased.

“I’ll take you anywhere,” Terry slurped down some water.

“Anywhere?” Aaliyah dragged out with her cutesy voice and lips twinged with a sultry smile.

“Anywhere…anything for you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Aaliyah smiled, “You’ve earned the privilege to spoil me.”

They laughed in unison.

“How did I earn it, exactly?” Terry quirked a brow up and narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Giving me two thousand dollars cash was enough to let me know,” Aaliyah replied bluntly.

Terry chucked. He licked his lips, eyes scanning the space before he lowered his voice an octave, “You liked that, huh?”

“More than you’ll ever know…”

“Let me know, girl…”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled.

“Let me know…” Terry persisted.

“I didn’t like it I love it. I’m a princess and I should be treated accordingly.”

Terry’s eyelids lowered slightly. He leaned in on his arms, eyes roaming her body before staring into her eyes again. He felt a sensation so deep within his ripped core. Something akin to butterflies. Aaliyah excited him. That mouth on her…he loved it.

“The minute I laid my eyes on you at that bachelor party…you were gettin’ all my money…”

“Good, that’s what I wanted,” Aaliyah nibbled on her straw with a teasing smile.

Terry licked his lips. He stared at her through his spectacles while his fingers drummed against the table slowly. Aaliyah sat her glass down and leaned back against the booth.

Staring.

They were practically eye–fucking each other.

Beneath that table, Aaliyah took it upon herself to run her pointed, left foot up Terry’s right leg. She did it achingly slow. It traveled up and up until she stopped with her foot propped up against his seat between his legs. Terry did one lazy sweep of his eyes over her foot and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.

”Aaliyah…”

“Huh?”

Terry was going to lose it. Lose all his control. He was itching to walk her to the back of the restaurant, push her into a bathroom stall, and beat that fat pussy up with her chest against the door and his large hands keeping her pinned in place and stable on that dick.

“If I could tell you how beautiful you are…how gorgeous you are a million times I would. The moment I laid eyes on you at the beginning of the semester…I couldn’t ignore it. The feeling. I just knew that I had to have you…”

Aaliyah sat transfixed by his words. Lips slightly parted, eyes misty. He loved that look on her face. He wanted her to look at him like that in a kneeled position with his dick hanging in her face waiting to be tended to.

The thoughts in his mind…

“Wow,” Aaliyah chuckled breathlessly, “You want me that bad, huh? Wow…”

She acted as if a man never pined for her so deep like Terry. His unspoken energy even spoke volumes.

He. Needed. Aaliyah.

Professor or not.

“You don’t even know…”

“Mm,” Aaliyah shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes opened slowly, “Terry…you gotta stop.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah’s thighs clenching beneath the table and Terry’s thighs swinging back and forth.

“Why stop?” Terry whispered.

Aaliyah kisses her teeth, “‘Cause…”

Her cute voice was enough to make the tip of his dick respond. He could feel himself leaking.

Thank God the waiter returned with the check. Terry paid the tab, and Aaliyah looked at him, not quite ready to go. Terry didn’t want to, but he had an evening course starting within the next hour or so and he needed to head back to campus.

Fuck that class. Look what’s in front of of you, nigga…

“You ready?” Terry questioned reluctantly.

——

They hadn’t even made it out of Noir for two seconds before it started again. They quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of clouds were forming, blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun.

Aaliyah got the first splatter of rain when she was halfway across the parking lot. She took shelter under her Jean jacket, hoping that she could see out past the shower. Terry’s brawny bicep pulled her closer while he covered himself with his own jacket. Droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. They were sprinkling onto the concrete like a gardener’s hose. Then the rainfall became more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak trees and the drops were drumming against the tops of cars. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise. It reminded her of the rotor blades on a helicopter.

Terry’s truck was closer. He rushed to fling the door opened, helping Aaliyah inside before sprinting to his side and climbing in. He slammed the door shut before tossing his drenched suit jacket onto the back seat. The humidity caused the car windows to fog as it poured. Eventually, the noise lessened and the drops faded into a musical chime. They sought out each other’s gaze and laughed.

Aaliyah threw her head back and sighed with contempt. This was a great lunch date. She was so happy she came. After bawling her eyes out about her mother, she needed some fun. Terry was more than just his looks. He was so refreshing. Such a gentleman. Hard working. So deeply fascinated with her. And it was more than just a lustful gaze. A gaze Aaliyah was more than used to. No. This man wanted her.

Aaliyah turned her cheek against the headrest to watch him. Terry felt her eyes and he gave her his undivided attention.

“I want to see you again, as soon as possible, Aaliyah.”

The urgency in his voice let her know he was a man about action.

“I’ll let you know what my days are looking like…okay?”

Terry hummed. The sound vibrated her core. He was impatient.

“Why not check on that now? Friday for an hour and thirty minute class ain’t enough.”

The bite in his voice sounded so much different from his professional tone. Aaliyah was stunned.

“Okay,” She pulled out her phone from her bag, “I have plans Saturday with friends…”

“Friday night?”

“Nothing.” Aaliyah replied.

“Then how about Friday? I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I have to study, Terry.” Aaliyah said, a playful glint in her eyes.

Aaliyah clocked the way Terry’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. She imagined what he looked like beneath his business attire. Her imagining could only conjure up enough for her to fantasize about. She needed to see the real thing. Up close. Touch on him and memorize the planes and valleys of muscle threatening to bring the freak out of her. He looked like he could bench press and squat three times her size and Aaliyah wanted to test that theory. In many positions.

“I’ll help you study.”

“Isn’t that cheating?!” Aaliyah replied.

“It’s called tutoring, baby girl.”

Baby girl? Oh fucking hell…

Aaliyah became acutely aware of her nipples hardening. So did Terry. His eyes were glued to her breasts sitting up and jutted out.

Terry reached down beside him and his seat reclined back. Aaliyah’s heart skipped a beat. He gave her a pointed look. Aliyah’s eyes fell to his inviting lap…and a rather mountainous bulge…

It was as if the blood coursing through his body carried downward and pooled into his…

The veins in his arms…she could see them clearer now. His large hands resting against his thighs…that man spread…she felt a buzzing in her ears. The silent dominance in his posture…

Aaliyah lifted from her seat in a frenzy, Terry scooped her up with one powerful arm around her waistline and Aaliyah climbed over his lap. She sat herself snugly over his thick bulge that protruded from the crotch of his navy blue slacks like an eruption was waiting to happen. Her fat pussy sat on that protrusion and her breath hitched.

“Professor…”

Terry’s large hands double–cuffed her thick ass and he forced his grip upward, arching her back. Those thick, long fingers sank into the plump flesh as he groped her. One hand above her, pressed against the roof of the car, Aaliyah allowed the feeling of him squeezing and jiggling her cakes to consume her.

His glasses had fogged up. Their mingled, uneven breaths along with the sound of the leather seats filled the space between them. Aaliyah felt his hands smooth around to the junction between her thighs and booty and he applied force, making her ass move on its own—left cheek, right cheek— peering down over her shoulder while she was pressed against him. Aaliyah had her feet folded over his knees.

“Ughhh….”

A deep grunt followed by his arms wrapping around her waist tight. Biceps cutting into her back. The new position had Aaliyah sitting over his print harder. They sat like that for a few minutes, Terry’s nose was pressed against her neck, inhaling cool air and exhaling heated air that caused goosebumps to spread.

His arms loosened and Aaliyah tilted her head down to meet his eyes. She removed Terry’s glasses, resting them inside of his cup holder. The interior of his car smelled like blackberry clove and leather. He smelled like sandalwood. Those eyes. She got lost in them before tearing her gaze away to stare at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Terry asked softly.

Aaliyah closed the space between them and one of Terry’s hands tangled into her wet coils while his other hand sat above her ass. They gave each other an open–mouthed kiss filled with a feverish need for each other. Wet smacking noises sent signals of arousal. Eyes closed, heads swiveling, equally tasty and soft lips molding into each other’s. Aaliyah allowed her hands to run beneath his dress shirt and white better, coming into contact with warm skin stretched over an impressive physique.

“Unh…”

She found herself moaning.

A single finger of Terry’s traced the waistline of her leggings. The sensation caused her body to shiver. Aaliyah sat up, leaning back against his steering wheel. Terry locked eyes with her while his fingers brushed from her waist down to her pussy. The heat radiating from there could have added to the fog on the windows .

“You deserve so much…you’re so fuckin’ sexy…”

Aaliyah adjusted herself to tilt her body against his so that Terry could put his hand down her leggings.

“Damn…it’s like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh…”

Terry’s hand cupped her fat pussy through her thong. Aaliyah clung to his shoulders while holding his gaze. Terry’s tongue—thick and pink—poked out and Aaliyah accepted the invitation of touching tongues with him. His fingers moved her panties to the side. He grunted into Aaliyah’s mouth.

“Damn…damn…”

His fingers rubbed up and down. Aaliyah spread her thighs further.

“There you go…nasty girl… spreading your legs like that…want me to touch all over this pussy…I like that…”

His words. She whimpered when his fingers started doing that up and down motion between her swollen labia and over her stiff clit. Aaliyah couldn’t believe how wet her pussy is. Creamy viscous spread all over her.

“Unh…Terry…”

“This what you think about? You think about me expressing how much I want you with my fingers in your pussy?…”

Two fingers sank deep. Aaliyah’s mouth dropped open. Terry’s brows furrowed and his eyes would flicker from her face to his hand moving up and down in her leggings.

“Aaliyah…this lil’ pussy tight, girl…I can’t believe I’m fingering you right now…”

He looked like he couldn’t believe it. Jade eyes intense.

“It’s s–s–so, wet…”

His words stuttered out in disbelief.

“My pussy like you just as much as I do, Professor…”

Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip and her head lulled back. She started bouncing on his fingers. Damn, she missed this. She missed being fingered the proper way. She ain’t have dick in almost a year. The last man to have her was a mistake and not even worth mentioning. All she could focus on was keeping her legs spread and that pussy open.

“Good girl…you follow directions well…I like that,” Terry dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, “Look at me, Aaliyah…”

She did as she was told.

“I played your little game. Now what?”

He was toying with her.

This man…this was another side to him she was more than excited to see.

“Now you make me cum…make me cum, Professor.”

Terry chuckled, “Make this pussy cum?”

His fingers were knuckle deep.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry…”

“Mmm…that sweet, little voice gon’ get you in trouble…keep moaning…uh-huh…mhmmmm…”

Aaliyah clamped down on his fingers. She lowered her head over his headrest and rode out her orgasm. So intense. It hit her like a freight train. Terry pressed deeper, stroking a spot that had Aaliyah crying. Terry gently withdrew his fingers. Aaliyah’s breaths slowed down, but her body was still recovering from the after shocks.

His hand resurfaced just as the sun peered over the storm clouds. The aroma of her pussy and the cum clinging to his fingers flooded her nose in the best way. Terry held his manicured fingers up. Aaliyah locked her gaze on creamy–white goodness all over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

Terry played with it. Rubbing his fingertips together. Spreading his fingers to see how slimy it looked. Aaliyah watched him suck each finger while his eyes never left her face.

“I taste good?” Aaliyah asked with a smile.

“Fuckin’ amazing, baby…”

Terry licked his lips and Aaliyah leaned in to steal a kiss. They kissed for some time before Terry broke away. He released a growl of frustration.

“I gotta head back to campus…I have an exam for my next class…”

Aaliyah pecked his lips before climbing off his lap and into her seat. Terry had his lip pouted while fixing himself. Aaliyah giggled, her eyes dropping down to his neglected erection. He caught her watching, grabbing her wrist and sitting her hand over his bulge.

It…was…thick…

“It’s so big…”

Aaliyah explored, squeezing and stroking…Terry swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. Aaliyah removed her hand and Terry looked over at her like he didn’t want her to stop. Ever. She didn’t want to go, but Terry needed to get back to Campus. The last thing she’d ever want to do is sabotage his career.

“I don’t want to leave, but it’s okay…I’ll see you Friday, right?” Terry questioned, grabbing Aaliyah’s hand and kissing the back of it over and over.

“Yes. I’ll be there…”

Terry made a come hither motion and Aaliyah obeyed, slipping him some final tongue before they parted ways. Terry put his glasses back on, giving Aaliyah one final look of longing. She knew she had to be the one to leave him behind because if she didn’t, he would have skipped the class and spent the rest of the day proving to her just how much he needed her.

“Bye, Professor.”

Aaliyah opened the car door. She hopped down from his truck, grabbing her jean jacket. She blew Terry a kiss before shutting his door and heading towards her Jeep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her pussy on his tongue and her scent on his fingers while he lectured.

——

Aaliyah 🌹: Studying for an exam tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I had a really great time today 😏 just might touch myself thinking about it. Sweet Dreams, Professor. Xoxoxo 👄

Terry moved towards his living room, an NBA game on in the background. He was shirtless with black joggers on and a durag over his short curls. A single gold cross chain sat in the middle of his pecs. The heels of his socked feet sat into the throw rug beneath him. He had grilled salmon, broccoli, and dirty rice for dinner.

Aaliyah.

That woman awakened something primal in him. Although his eyes bounced back and forth across the screen, his mind wandered to the way his taste buds craved more pussy. He had such a good time getting to know her. The way her lips felt like the softest cushion against his lips. The soft, little whimpers she made drove him crazy. He dragged a hand down his face.

He studiously ignored the monster in his joggers.

Could’ve been full of something else if you had just taken what was in front of you.

The game did nothing to calm down his body. He flipped through the channels looking for something, anything to distract himself from the length of his dick pulsing against his thigh. Terry shifted his hips on the couch, the fight to ignore it impossible.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry.”

Terry could still hardly believe that he had Aaliyah in his lap, lips against hers, fingers deep in her pussy, and in public. The morbid excitement from earlier returned to him in tenfold, echoing in the throb of his manhood. He stared forward at the movements on his television unseeingly, fighting his mind as it tried to conjure up an image of himself between Aaliyah’s legs. Her pretty pussy gleaming at him naughtily making his mouth water. He wanted to be the only one to taste her for as long as he lived. To bury his face in between her buttery–smooth thighs to kiss, lick and tongue fuck her until she was a whimpering, quivering mess. His name a constant chant on her lips as she feebly tried to push him away after her orgasm. He wouldn’t stop. Not until all she wanted was him.

“Terry…Terry…right there, Terry…”

“Shit,” he grunted as he lifted his hips off the couch slightly, pulling his joggers down to his thighs, his engorged dick springing free, curving up to look at him. The purpling head waved in the air at him in greeting and invitation. Terry scrubbed a hand over his face at the sight, exasperated at his excitement for a girl he’d never seen naked and his inability to turn this shit off. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily to him if he didn’t take care of big boy first.

Terry’s eyes tracked a drop of precum as it dribbled over his head and down his pulsating shaft, collecting at his heavy balls. His dick was quite literally demanding attention, the veins overly pronoucned along the sides beating in time with his heart, and he was hard pressed not to give in. He hadn’t touched himself in a few days, work had kept him busy and the thoughts of Aaliyah after the bachelor party had given him a reason to. He quickly contemplated walking back to his room and using his fleshlight to get the job done before he decided against it. He was too needy to move now.

Tentative fingers ran over the velvety tip, collecting the beads of moisture there and spreading them around slowly. He closed his blue–gray eyes and pushed his head back into the sofa cushion with a flex of his hips. A harsh ‘fuck’ escaped his clenched teeth at the sensitivity. This was going to be quick, rough and lacking any of the finesse he usually showcased in any moment of sexual gratification. Even if that moment was just with him.

Terry’s dominant hand wrapped lightly around himself, trying to mimic how his Aaliyah would touch him, his other dragging over his exposed abdomen. His hand pulled down roughly, electing a low groan from him, as a fantasy bloomed in his mind. He could see her behind his lids that had fallen closed. Kneeling in front of him, between his parted thighs, bright eyes glued to his expression as she bit her lip in concentration. Watching him with that sassy look she got any time she wanted things her way.

Terry spread his knees as far as his joggers would allow, his hand twisting and pulling himself, gaining momentum with every tight pass of the head. Thumb coming up to swiped over the moist slit. Half curses spewed out of him as his pace quickens, his free hand coming down to fondle his sack. Rolling it between his fingers. The sensation doing nothing to abate his impending release.

“Fuccccckkk…..” his voice hitched and raised, battling with the enthusiastic wet sounds of his hand pumping.

His fantasy girl looked between him and his twitching dick, her hand moving as fast as he was. She licked her parted lips and leaned towards his thick pipe. Her warm breath only heightened his pleasure as she whispered to him lowly.

“Cum for me, Professor…”

And he did just that. His heels dug into the plush rug beneath him, using it for leverage as he fucked up into his hand, the coil in his belly growing tighter until it snapped. A croak of Aaliyah’s name bouncing off his walls. Thick spurts of warm cum landing haphazardly across his upper body didn’t deter him as he continued to drag his fist over his oozing dick until the motion became too much for his overly sensitive body. Legs shuddering with each pass.

Terry let go with a deep sigh, taut body relaxing slowly until he was sitting naturally in his seat. Terry glanced down at the evidence of his ecstasy littered across his chest, stomach and hand.

He huffed an annoyed laugh at how quickly his orgasm had taken him. And how hard his dick still was as it bobbed in front of him, his stamina was working against him this time around. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he gripped the base, pulling his hand with a slow rotation of his wrist upwards. His release making the perfect slick for round two.

“F–fuuck, babyyy…” Terry hissed at the feeling. He let go, palming the head a few seconds to stave off the mounting pressure. He would not come that quickly again.

Terry took his time, languidly pulling at his dick, unrushed. Rubbing his free hand up and down his stomach, tweaking his nipple quickly before sliding back down. He repeated this process as his hand gradually picked up speed.

The short nails on Terry’s left hand bit deliciously into his skin as he raked them down his chest and stomach. The sharp pain was closely followed by a wave of hazy pleasure causing his hips to buck faster into his hand. He abandoned all notion of slow, the tightening in his balls and urge to reach completion pushing fast and hard to the forefront of his mind. The juxtaposition of two intense sensations never failed to throw him over the edge.

Terry threw his head back, neck straining as he clenched his jaw. A constant string of yes, fuck, yes screaming in his head as his abdominal muscles flexed and clenched. His hand is almost a blur with how quickly he’s moving.

Twist

Grip

Plunge

Slap

Squeeze

Fucking Aaliyah did this to him. Those eyes, that smile, her voice, that goddamn body…

Flashes of her twerking in a split, making that ass clap, looking back at it, licking her lips with that tongue ring, talking her shit, how sweet her pussy tasted, how snug her walls were around his fingers.

He wished it was her. Her delicate hand working him. Her brown eyes drooping with arousal. Her heavenly voice encouraging him to go ahead. Let go. He could almost smell her. Almost taste her.

Her pussy was so fucking sweet. He couldn’t wait to suck on her pussy. He wanted to bury his nose into it and draw in a deep breath that almost burned his lungs. He wanted to make her unravel beneath his tortuous tongue and lips. Over and over and over—

He erupted at the thought, breathing hard and keening through his messy release. The second nut even more than the first. Still, he continued to stroke, torturing himself, milking himself like he wanted her to.

Terry was out of breath by the end of it. Body spent and tingling.

So much for not cumming quickly.

He sat there for a long time, waiting for the hollow feeling to retreat from his bones, his cum cooling on his skin. He needed to take another shower.

But what he really needed was her.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

#aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre #rebel ridge #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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millyh23 · 2 days ago

Text

Abuelita

Alexia Putellas x Reader

word count:

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The Barça team was gathered at a lively café, chatting and laughing over coffee and pastries. Alexia was seated comfortably beside you, her arm resting on the back of your chair, as she listened to Vicky animatedly tell a story to Jana, Bruna, and Salma across the table.

Vicky’s words flowed quickly, with phrases that even you had to concentrate on to catch. But Alexia was nodding along, as if she understood every word—until she leaned in, eyebrows furrowing.

"Wait… what does ‘it hits different’ mean?” Alexia asked, looking between them, a bit lost. The younger girls exchanged amused glances.

“Ah, Ale,” Bruna said, barely hiding her grin. “You wouldn’t get it. Too old-school.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing at Mapi, who had also caught the teasing. She shot you a mischievous look before leaning in with a grin. “Hear that, Ale? Gen Z is trying to tell you something.”

“Excuse me,” Alexia protested, scandalized, her eyes darting between the girls and you. “Old? I’m not old!”

“Oh, sure,” you teased, patting her knee. “Next thing you know, they’ll be showing you how to use emojis, abuelita.”

Everyone burst into laughter, and Alexia’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “I am not an abuelita! Just because I missed a couple of phrases!”

Salma winked. “It’s okay, Ale. You’re vintage.”

Mapi leaned closer to you, laughing as she whispered, “And here I thought she was the queen of cool.”

Later that evening, you and Alexia were back home, winding down on the couch. She had one arm slung over the backrest, scrolling through her phone, her usual relaxed expression back in place. But you couldn’t resist one last tease.

You nudged her, hiding a grin. “You know, they had a point. You were really struggling today with the slang.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes, giving you a playful glare. “Don’t even start.”

You stretched your arms over your head dramatically. “It’s fine! I get it. You’re probably used to words like… I don’t know, fax machine and VHS—totally normal, classic stuff.”

She scoffed, setting her phone aside and shifting to face you. “Excuse me, I’m not ancient! I’m 30, Y/N.”

“30 is practically 40,” you said with a smirk. “And 40 is practically—”

“Don’t you dare continue.” She tried to look offended but couldn’t keep a straight face, her lips twitching into a smile.

You shrugged innocently. “Hey, I’m just saying, maybe you should start preparing. We can get you one of those pill organizers and a nice pair of reading glasses—”

Alexia scoffed again, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“I try,” you said with a wink. “But seriously, I could teach you some phrases. We can get you caught up with the cool kids. How about lowkey? Like, lowkey, you’re kinda cute even if you’re old.”

“Lowkey, you’re testing my patience,” she shot back, but she was laughing now, tugging you into her side.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop… for now,” you relented, snuggling up against her, feeling her relax under your touch.

Alexia huffed, pretending to sulk. “I’m telling the team you’re a bully.”

“Oh, please. They already know I’m your biggest fan,” you teased, smiling as you felt her laugh under you.

---

It was a typical Saturday evening, and you and Alexia were sprawled out on the couch after a long day of training. You were scrolling through your phone, catching up on messages, while Alexia sat next to you, humming absently as she flicked through a magazine.

Suddenly, your phone pinged, and you saw the group chat lighting up. The usual suspects—Vicky, Jana, Bruna, and Salma—had started their usual banter.

Vicky: “Anyone up for dinner at 8? I’m thinking sushi 🍣.”

Jana: “I’m in! LFG! 🍻”

Bruna: “Same here, but gotta bounce early. Gotta get my beauty sleep 😴”

Salma: “Same, girl. TTYL!”

You smiled, seeing the typical chaos in the chat, but then you noticed Alexia peeking over your shoulder, trying to read the messages.

“What’s ‘LFG’?” Alexia asked, squinting at the screen.

You turned to her with a grin. “You don’t know?”

She straightened up, looking defensive. “Of course, I do. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right. Sure.”

Alexia leaned back with a casual shrug, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. “Well, what does it mean?”

You suppressed a laugh. “It means Let’s F*ing Go, Ale.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she quickly tried to recover. “Oh, right. Totally knew that.” She gave you a nod, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure you did.”

The next message pinged up.

Vicky: “Yo, can someone get the S&P from the fridge? ASAP?”

Alexia furrowed her brows again. “What’s ‘S&P’?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Salt and Pepper, Ale. Obviously.”

Alexia looked at you, trying to keep her cool. “Well, I knew that,” she said confidently, though you could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

Another ping came through.

Jana: “BRB, gotta grab my OOTD for dinner!”

Alexia just blinked. “Okay, I know BRB means ‘be right back’… but what’s OOTD?”

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh. “Outfit of the Day, babe. Classic fashion lingo.”

She exhaled sharply. “Of course, I knew that.”

“Right,” you teased. “Totally.”

Another message came through, this time from Bruna.

Bruna: “That’s a mood, Vicky!”

Alexia stared at it for a long moment. “…What does ‘mood’ mean? Like, the weather?”

Now, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “No, Ale. Mood means—well, I guess you can think of it as like when something vibes with you.”

Alexia looked horrified, but instead of admitting defeat, she crossed her arms defiantly. “Okay, well, I’m learning. I’m not old like you think I am.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, ruffling her hair playfully. “Keep telling yourself that, Ale.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m definitely not as bad as you make it sound.”

You leaned over, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re adorable, Ale. Don’t worry, I’m here to help you with your cool kid education.”

As the next message came through, you saw Alexia’s eyes narrowing at the screen, but this time, she kept her mouth shut, likely trying to figure it out on her own.

Salma: “Catch y’all at 8, IRL. Can’t wait for the vibes ✌🏼”

You waited a moment, then turned to Alexia with a grin. “Do you know what IRL means?”

Alexia’s face betrayed her confidence now. She stared at the screen and then looked back at you, frowning slightly. “It’s… not important.”

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I know! It’s… I’m Really Lame,” she said, her voice rising a bit as if she was trying to convince herself more than you.

You burst into laughter again, earning a playful shove from Alexia. “You’re so full of it, Ale.”

“Fine,” she huffed, slumping dramatically. “Maybe I’m a little behind. But I’m catching up!”

You smiled, wrapping your arm around her. “Don’t worry, I’m here for you. You’re not that old.”

“Ha ha, funny,” she muttered, giving you a sideways glare. “I’m going to learn all the abbreviations, and then I’ll make you feel ancient.”

“Good luck with that,” you grinned, kissing the top of her head. “In the meantime, I’ll just keep you up to date on all the latest slang.”

Alexia mumbled something, but you caught her trying not to smile. It was cute—though she’d never admit it, you knew she was secretly enjoying being the student for once.

After a long week of intense training, you dropped onto the couch beside Alexia with a dramatic groan, sinking into the cushions like you were trying to become part of the furniture.

“Ugh, my back is killing me,” you muttered, rubbing at a sore spot between your shoulders.

Alexia raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up in a smirk. “Who’s old now, hmm?” she teased, giving you a light nudge.

You glared at her, feigning offense. “Excuse me, my back pain is from being overworked, not from old age.”

She chuckled, stretching out beside you and crossing her arms over her chest. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. You sounded like a grandma just now.”

“Alright, abuelita,” she cooed in a teasing tone, grinning as she patted your hand like you were ancient.

You gave her a playful shove, trying to suppress a laugh. “Listen, just because I have one tiny backache doesn’t mean I’m old.”

Alexia tilted her head with an exaggerated look of sympathy. “Do we need to get you one of those heated blankets? Or maybe a nice back brace?”

“Oh, you’re hilarious, Ale,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t stop smiling.

She leaned in, clearly relishing the moment. “I mean, I could help you schedule a physical therapy appointment. Maybe get you into some gentle yoga?”

You laughed, trying to hide how much you were enjoying her teasing. “Please, I’m still in my prime! You, on the other hand, are the one struggling to keep up with Gen Z slang.”

She raised her hands in surrender, feigning innocence. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it go… for now. But I’m just saying, if you need me to fetch you some extra pillows, just let me know.”

You groaned, reaching for a pillow to toss at her, which she dodged easily, laughing.

“Alright, maybe I’ll go see the team physio,” you admitted, finally giving in. “But only if you promise to stop calling me abuelita.”

Alexia leaned back, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied grin. “We’ll see, grandma. I- I mean amore," Alexia quickly corrected.

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The End

#offside story #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #fcb femení #barça #barca femeni

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onlyhereforthestories · 2 days ago

Text

Chica Medica - Part 5 (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

So its been a while (sorry!) You won't have to wait long for the final few parts of this I am half way through the next part. Thank you all who have stuck with me, this was one of the first things I wrote and I feel a little emotional that it is finally coming to an end. Anyway enough ramble enjoy part 5!

You had gone through your whole wardrobe by this point, and you still couldn’t find the right thing to wear. All your clothes were spread around your room in various states of crinkled from the constant changing you had been doing. Nothing was working together or, or you were not feeling confident in others.

You checked you phone to see you had exactly 23 minutes before Leila and Mapi were due to collect you, so you knew you needed to get a move on. Deciding the only way you were actually going to put anything on over the underwear you currently resided in was with some help, you dialled the number of the only person who could sort you out.

Ona picked up on the second ring, “Hola Hermana, what can I do for you?” her smile and voice had the wave of calm you needed right now to stop your mind from its current running all over the place.

“I need help. I have Christmas drinks with the Barca girls tonight and I don’t know what to wear, I have tried my whole wardrobe on and nothing is right. I need you to just tell me what to wear.” Ona could hear the frustration in your voice.

“I’m guessing you are only this stressed about what you look like because of a certain midfielder, you never care about what you look. I’ve literally been to the club with you in joggers before.” You rolled your eyes at the woman before giving her a pointed look through your phone. Now wasn’t the time for memories or teasing you about the fact that you were hyperaware of the brunette that would in fact see you in the clothes you picked tonight.

“Ona please.” You pulled out the puppy eyes and the bottom lip, both of which you knew would get Ona helping you in a couple seconds flat.

“Oh, you really want my help you’ve pulled out the big guns. Okay show me what I’m working with. Ooooo actually do you still have that black silk shirt? The one you wore to you knows party?” you knew exactly what shirt she meant, it was the only item you had not actually tried on tonight, you’d just chucked it to the side.

“I do yes. Is that not like bad luck or something to wear?” Could you really wear a shirt your ex loved on you so much to a party you were so worried about looking good for because of the new person you had feelings for.

“She didn’t buy it for you I did, and you look really, really hot in it so if you want Alexia to drool over you, I would definitely say wear it.” You found it in the pile of clothes and picked out some beige slacks with the help of Ona, you chatted with the Manchester United player while you got ready and only said goodbye when you heard the doorbell ring.

Getting to the hired club was fun, Mapi and Leila had both complimented your outfit and made comments about who you were trying to impress much to your annoyance. The best thing was they both promised to protect or help you if you needed it, something that you almost chocked up on thanking them for. You were very lucky to have such amazing friends around you.

When the three of you got in you could tell it was going to be a fun night, Pina came running over to you all with Patri hot on her heels both had beers in both hands, and you were all passed one. Apparently, a drink had to be drunk as soon as you got in to be allowed to join the big group at the table.

Not one to back down from any challenge, you smirked at the two younger women who gave you the drink as you held the beer up in a semi cheers to them and downed it in a very easy and quick time. When you wiped your upper lip, you couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Claudia’s face. The younger woman’s jaw was on the floor so to say, and she had a slight spark of awe in her eyes.

What you didn’t know was that Alexia had walked in with Jenni just as you raised your beer so got to watch you smoothly chug it. An action from you that she found very hot indeed and even voiced that accidently out loud which put her on the receiving end of a slap to the back of the head from her best friend.

Righting herself and sending a quick but not really meant sorry to the older woman, Alexia walked just behind the little group surrounding you to the table where she was greeted with her own drink to see off as quickly as she could. She took a lot longer and struggled a lot more than you did to do it.

As the night went on the drinks flowed more and more, you had had your fair share but had stopped once the pleasant buzz had fully kicked in. You really didn’t like the feeling of losing your senses anymore, so you knew when to switch to sodas. Alexia had noticed you do this and chose to do the same thing in order to hopefully talk with you when her confidence wasn’t on the floor.

Confidence or not her opportunity came when Leila dragged the people on your table up and to the dance floor and you waved them away, stating you needed to watch and see what moves they were doing before you could join in. An excuse for sure but Alexia wasn’t going to complain.

Taking a breath to calm her already racing heart she grabbed her drink and walked towards you. “Mind if I join you?”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to come over here once they left. You pleasantly surprised me with a little under a minute.” You faced her with a giggle, which turned into a full on laugh when you saw her cheeks heat up. “I am only messing with you, of course you can sit. In fact, I would really like it if you did.” It was your turn to blush now, the alcohol you had consumed earlier obviously making your lips a little looser then they would normally be.

“I haven’t got a chance to tell you how stunning you look. That shirt is incredible.” Alexia wasn’t hiding her obvious attraction to the outfit you were wearing, in fact you could see it swimming in her gaze.

“You look incredible yourself, I do have to admit that open back dress on you will always get to me.” You were again saying a lot, more than you ever had in fact. Your inner thoughts of tracing the tattoos on her back came to mind and you had to shake your head to clear your mind of that briefly.

You did manage to catch her ducking her head at what you said, and it boosted your confidence a little bit. Deciding that you needed another actual drink now that this situation was clearly happening you decided you were not going to do it alone. “Do you want to get a drink with me?”

“I’d love nothing else. Lead the way, but drinks are on me.” Alexia was standing next to where you were sitting in the booth with her hand held out to you, a hopeful look in her eyes. A hopefully look that turned into full blown joy the second you placed your hand in hers and made to stand up.

Alexia was quick to drag you with her to the bar where she got you both a shot and a normal drinking drink. Those were drunk at the bar, the both of you enjoying the time away from the bulk of the group and slightly further away from the music so you didn’t have to shout so much to hear one another.

Alexia had just downed the last of her drink while making direct eye contact with you, taking the obvious hint she was giving you, you downed the last bit of your own. As you put the glass down on the bar you found a hand placed on the small of your back and your body gently pulled in the direction Ale was moving. You ended up on the dance floor with the rest of the girls, you split of slightly from the woman that was always on your mind so you could join the girls that dragged you here.

You danced with them all for an unknown amount of time, you were having the best time, and it didn’t matter who you were with. Alexia would slide up behind you every so often and get you dancing with her before she let you go back to either Mapi or Leila depending on who was requesting your presence.

As the night progressed and you consumed your final drink, you cut yourself off as you knew this was your limit. You knew that if you drank anymore it would go from a fun slightly heavy night to a messy night. Apparently, Alexia was in agreement because about 30 minutes after that final drink she was heading towards the bar to get water, something that you were planning on doing too.

“Did you get water?” You didn’t realise how much you were pressed up to the woman, but she did. Alexia could feel the curve of you pressed up against her and it was sending her head spinning more than alcohol every could. She took a second to compose herself before glancing over her shoulder and answering you.

“Si.” You smiled before requesting that she made that two. With a water in each of her hands she nudged your shoulder to get you moving back in the direction of the booth you were in earlier.

As you and Alexia returned to the booth, drinks in hand, the atmosphere between you was charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. The club was still buzzing with energy. Laughter and music filled the air, but here in your little corner, everything seemed quieter, more intimate.

You settled in next to Alexia, close enough that your knees brushed under the table. It sent a spark through you, but you focused on your water, taking a long sip to calm the nerves that had been building all night.

"Did you enjoy the dancing?" Alexia asked, her voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music. She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your ear, and you tried not to let it affect you too much.

"Yeah," you replied, looking at her with a playful smirk. "Especially when you kept sneaking up behind me."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t break eye contact. "I thought you liked that."

You raised an eyebrow. "I didn’t say I didn’t." The tension between you hung in the air like a charged wire, sparking every time you exchanged a glance or a touch.

For a while, you talked casually; about the team, about the night, both of you skirting around the real conversation neither of you seemed ready to have. But the underlying feeling of something more was undeniable, every small gesture, every laugh shared, seemed to pull you closer.

After a bit of quiet, you glanced over at the dance floor where Leila and Mapi were making a scene with some questionable dance moves. You shook your head, laughing softly. "I don’t know how they manage to be so ridiculous and so fun at the same time."

Alexia grinned. "That’s Mapi and Leila for you. But it looks like they’re having a good time. I think this was really needed for them." You always admired how much the woman cared for her teammates, it was one of the many things that made her such a wonderful captain.

You nodded in agreement but felt the weight of her gaze on you, the air between you growing heavier. The rest of the room faded into the background, and suddenly, sitting so close to her, the only thing you could focus on was the warmth radiating from her body and how easily her presence made your heart race.

Without thinking, you stood up, needing a moment to collect yourself. "I’m going to the bathroom," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "I’ll be right back."

Alexia watched you go, her eyes following you as you made your way through the crowd. The moment you disappeared into the hallway leading to the bathrooms, she stood up, almost on instinct, and followed. She caught up with you just as you reached the door to the bathroom.

"Hey," she called softly, causing you to turn around. Her gaze was intense, her brown eyes darker under the dim club lights. "Wait a second."

You stopped, heart pounding in your chest. "What is it?"

For a moment, Alexia just looked at you, like she was weighing her next words, but instead of speaking, she closed the distance between you. The hallway was dimly lit, the noise from the club muffled, and the two of you stood close, the space between you shrinking with every passing second.

Her hand brushed yours, a light touch that sent a shiver up your spine. "I—" she began, but whatever words she’d been about to say faded into silence. Instead, she leaned in slowly, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You couldn’t not with her.

Your heart raced as her lips met yours, the kiss slow and deliberate. It wasn’t the rushed, drunken kiss from before; this one was different. It was tender, purposeful, and full of the tension that had been building between you all night. This kiss was meant, you could feel it in the way you both eased into it and melted into one another.

You kissed her back, your hands instinctively moving to her waist, pulling her closer. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the feel of her lips against yours, soft but insistent, like she had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

"I... I’ve been wanting to do that all night," Alexia admitted softly, her thumb brushing over your hand, still entwined with hers. You got slightly lost in the feeling of her warm breath running over your lips as she was still so close to you.

You let out a soft laugh, your heart still pounding in your chest. "I’m glad you did."

Before you could say more, you heard familiar voices approaching from the direction of the club. You glanced at Alexia, the tension still palpable between you.

"We should get back before they notice we’re both gone," you said, though a part of you wasn’t ready for this moment to end. A part of you knew that if you could you would stand here like this with Alexia for as long as she would allow.

Alexia nodded, but her fingers lingered on your hand for a second longer before letting go. "Right. Yes."

Just as you both started to head back to the booth, Leila and Mapi came around the corner, clearly on a mission to find you. "There you are!" Leila exclaimed with a mischievous grin. "We were wondering where our chica medica disappeared to."

Mapi’s eyes flicked between you and Alexia, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "Ohhhh, what did we miss?"

You laughed, trying to play it cool. "Nothing much. Just needed a break from all your terrible dancing."

Leila gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "Excuse me, my moves are iconic."

Alexia chuckled beside you, but you could still feel the tension simmering beneath the surface. You weren’t sure if Mapi and Leila could sense it, but you knew you couldn’t stay here much longer without risking more teasing or worse, revealing too much.

"I think I’m going to head home," you said suddenly, glancing at Alexia for a brief second before turning to your friends. "It’s been a long day."

Leila and Mapi exchanged a glance but didn’t push. "We’ll come with you," Leila offered, her tone softer now. "It’s getting late anyway."

"Yeah," Mapi added, clearly sensing there was more going on but choosing not to dig, for now at least. "Let’s get out of here."

As you all made your way out of the club, Alexia stayed close to you, her arm brushing against yours every so often. You didn’t speak much, but the kiss still lingered in the air between you, full of possibility and unanswered questions.

And though you weren’t quite sure what would happen next, for now, you were content knowing that something had shifted between you and Alexia, something that felt too real to ignore.

The final whistle echoed through the stadium, marking the end of the last game before Christmas. The team had secured a comfortable win, and the energy in the locker room was buzzing with excitement. You smiled, watching the others as they celebrated, but your mind was already elsewhere, on the gift you’d been planning for Alexia.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and you both had flights to catch you were heading home to your family, and Alexia was off to Dubai for a much-deserved break as well as the award ceremony she had to attend. Despite the unspoken tension between you, the connection had only grown deeper, especially after that night at the club. But there were still so many things left unsaid, and you wanted to give her something so that she knows you are thinking of her over the break.

The present you had picked wasn’t overly sentimental, but it was personal. Something that could remind her of your time together while not being overly obvious to anyone outside of the two of you. You had chosen a silver necklace with a pendant that had a small wave on it, echoing the tattoo she had on her arm. To you, the wave symbolized something constant and unyielding just like the ocean, always in motion but forever steady. It was your way of telling her that, no matter what storms or calm seas lay ahead, you would be there, quietly supporting her, just as the ocean never stops flowing. You remembered a conversation you had shared about her tattoo and how it made you feel, how it reminded you that even when things are chaotic, some things, like your care for her, would always remain steady.

Attached to the box that held the necklace was a simple note with "Open on Christmas" written across the top in your neat handwriting. You didn’t dare give it to her directly, it wasn’t a grand gesture, but the idea of watching her reaction made your stomach flutter nervously.

As the team headed for the showers, you saw your chance. While everyone was distracted, you slipped over to Alexia’s bag. Glancing around to make sure no one noticed, you carefully placed the small box deep inside, just under her change of clothes. The note, tucked on top of the box, would be the first thing she’d see when she unpacked the bag later.

Your heart raced a little as you zipped her bag back up, the nerves making your hands slightly shaky. You weren’t sure what Alexia would think, but you hoped she’d at the very least like the necklace, even if she didn’t appreciate the meaning.

Just as you finished, Mapi walked by, oblivious to what you’d just done. "Hey, you ready to head out?" she asked, a wide grin on her face.

"Yeah," you replied, forcing a calmness into your voice. "Just about."

As the rest of the team began to gather their things, you exchanged a few quick goodbyes. With the Christmas break upon you, you’d all be going your separate ways for the holidays. You lingered for a moment, watching Alexia as she packed up her own bag, a small smile playing on her lips as she laughed at something Jenni said. You wondered when she’d find the present, and a nervous excitement built in your chest. You just hoped shed find it before she left, the logical part of your brain knew she would. Alexia couldn’t not unpack and clean away her kit bag after every session, it was something she had told you at the start of your time together.

That evening Alexia did exactly as you thought she would, she was slightly distracted with thoughts of you, slightly annoyed at herself for not speaking to you before she left the grounds. As she unpacked her bag, Alexia pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on getting comfortable. She was just about to pull out her toiletries when her fingers brushed against something unexpected, something small and wrapped. Frowning, she pulled it out from the bottom of her bag, her breath catching when she saw the small box wrapped in simple paper with a note attached.

"Open on Christmas," it read in your familiar handwriting, the instructions clear.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Alexia’s lips as she ran her thumb over the words. You had managed to sneak this into her bag without her noticing, and now, holding the gift in her hands, a warmth spread through her chest. It was thoughtful, quiet, just like you had always been when it came to her.

The next morning, Christmas Eve arrived, and the airport was packed with travellers rushing to get home or off on holiday. You were there early, having left for your flight to see your family. As you waited in line at security, you couldn’t stop thinking about the gift you’d left in Alexia’s bag. You pictured her finding it when she unpacked, seeing the note telling her to wait until Christmas to open it. You just hoped she listened to it and took it with her.

Part of you felt nervous, wondering if it was too much or maybe not enough. But you pushed the thoughts aside as your boarding group was called. You checked your phone one last time and saw a message from Mapi, teasing you about the quiet night in before you both left.

You responded with a quick laugh emoji, then turned off your phone as you headed through the gate.

Later that morning, Alexia was checking in for her flight to Dubai. She was looking forward to the break, but her mind kept drifting back to the past few weeks, and more specifically, to you. Things had felt different lately, not just because of the kiss, but because of how you seemed to understand her in a way not many people did.

She sighed softly, adjusting her carry-on bag as she walked through the airport. The team had celebrated last night, and now they were all headed in different directions. As she sat down in the waiting area for her flight, she thought back to the locker room, wondering if she’d missed her chance to say something to you before you left. But then again, you had both left so many things unsaid.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an announcement for boarding. She stood up, rolling her shoulders to relax, and joined the line for her flight. As she settled into her seat on the plane, she tucked her bag under the seat in front of her, the box with the note she discovered last night tucked neatly in a pocket inside the bag.

After a long flight from Barcelona, Alexia finally landed in Dubai, exhausted but relieved to be away from the whirlwind of the season for a few days. The city sparkled beneath the night sky as she made her way to the hotel, her thoughts wandering to the time off she would finally have to herself.

Once inside her hotel room, the silence felt both comforting and strange. The entire flight had been spent mulling over the last few weeks, her thoughts drifting to you more than she’d like to admit. She hadn’t been able to figure out where she stood with you, especially after that kiss, and the uncertainty had left her unsettled.

Her mind was also on the wrapped gift she now had put on the desk in her hotel room, she could see it from her place laying on the bed. She didn’t get you anything which wasn’t because she didn’t want to, she was just scared it wasn’t the right move. Apparently, you had the bigger balls of the two.

She got up and walked to where the gift was placed, she picked it up and re read the little note on top. Her mind involuntarily making her smile at the thought of you scribbling it. She turned it over a few times contemplating whether to open it now or not.

But it wasn’t Christmas yet, and despite the temptation to tear it open right then and there, Alexia placed the small box on the nightstand. She’d wait until midnight. It wasn’t long, and she wanted to do it properly.

As the evening passed, she showered, had a light dinner, and spent some time aimlessly scrolling through her phone. But her thoughts kept drifting back to the gift waiting for her. The curiosity of what you had chosen for her grew with each passing minute, and as the clock crept closer to midnight, the anticipation made her heart beat just a little faster.

Finally, when her phone’s clock ticked over to 12:00, Alexia got up and reached for the gift, her fingers carefully undoing the wrapping. She peeled away the paper slowly, savouring the moment, until she uncovered the small box underneath. Her breath hitched slightly as she lifted the lid, revealing a delicate silver necklace nestled inside, with a tiny, intricately engraved wave symbol on a pendant.

For a long moment, Alexia just stared at it, running her fingers gently over the pendant. The wave it was very similar to the one she forever has on her arm. She understood it immediately. The constant, steady flow of the ocean, like how you had been there for her, quietly supporting her through her physical recovery and beyond. It was personal, thoughtful, and most of all perfect.

Her eyes fell on the folded note tucked inside the box. She unfolded it carefully, her heart thudding in her chest as she read your words:

Ale,

For all the times you’ve been my steady wave, keeping me grounded even when you didn’t know it. Merry Christmas.

Y/N

Alexia’s breath caught in her throat as she read the message. She hadn’t expected to feel this much emotion over a simple gift, but the weight of your words settled deep in her chest. It wasn’t just the bracelet, it was everything. The way you had been there for her, listening to her, supporting her, even when she hadn’t been sure of her own feelings. The message was your feelings about her, but they very much reflected her own for you too.

She leaned back against the pillows, the necklace still resting in her palm as she stared at it, feeling the emotions swell up inside her. It wasn’t just a gift. It was a message, one that told her, in no uncertain terms, that you were thinking of her, that you cared. That you might well always care if she would let you.

For the first time in a long time, Alexia allowed herself to think about what might come next. You were more than just her physiotherapist. You had become someone important, someone she couldn’t stop thinking about.

As she slipped the necklace around her neck, she made a quiet promise to herself. When she returned to Barcelona, she’d talk to you. Really talk. She wasn’t going to let this connection slip away, not after everything that had happened between you.

She glanced at the clock again, the soft ticking of the seconds filling the quiet room. It was Christmas now, and despite the miles between you, Alexia felt closer to you than she had in weeks. Smiling softly, she ran her fingers over the pendant one more time before closing her eyes, your words still lingering in her mind.

Merry Christmas.

Christmas with your family had been exactly what you needed. It had been cozy, familiar, and full of the warmth you'd missed while away in Spain. You'd spent a few extra days with them, catching up on lost time and letting yourself fully relax before heading back to reality. But after a while, the pull to reconnect with old friends had you itching to get out of the house.

It was Ona, of course, who suggested you stay in England a little longer after Christmas. "Why rush back?" she had said over FaceTime, her face lighting up at the idea. "We don’t have training for another few days, and you deserve some downtime with your friends. Take it."

You’d agreed, and soon you found yourself planning a few nights out with some of your old friends from the England team. That included Leah. The tension between you and her had lessened, especially after you had decided that a proper conversation was long overdue. There were still things to be said, things you couldn’t quite walk away from until they were fully resolved.

So, it was then that you found yourself out with a mix of friends from your past clubs, including Leah, Beth, and a few others. It was a relaxed evening at a familiar bar, drinks flowing and laughter filling the air. You weren’t overly worried about how it might look, knowing that everything with Leah was firmly in the past. But the conversation needed to happen, and tonight felt like the right time.

You and Leah stepped away from the group for a moment, moving to a quieter corner where you could talk privately. The noise of the bar created a bubble of privacy around you both as you began to speak.

"I’ve been meaning to say this for a while," Leah started, her voice soft but steady. "I’m sorry for how things ended between us. I know I didn’t handle things well, and it hurt you more than I realized at the time."

You nodded, appreciating her honesty. It wasn’t easy to dig into the past, but this conversation felt necessary. "It wasn’t easy for either of us," you admitted. "But I’m glad we’re talking about it now. I think we both needed this. I think it’s time for us to both let go of the past and move on with our lives."

Leah smiled, the tension between you dissolving as the conversation continued. It was nothing more than an honest exchange, two people clearing the air. But what you didn’t know was that in the background, someone else had unknowingly captured the moment on their phone.

Beth Mead had been recording a playful story for Instagram, filming some of the team dancing and enjoying the night out. In the background, just out of focus, you and Leah were caught in a seemingly intimate conversation, standing close as you talked quietly. It was innocent, but without context, the image could easily be misinterpreted.

Thousands of miles away, in the luxury of her hotel in Dubai, Alexia scrolled through her phone after a long day. The trip had been relaxing so far, a much-needed break from the intensity of the season, but her thoughts kept drifting back to you. She hadn’t heard much from you since before Christmas, and the uncertainty of where you stood with each other was gnawing at her.

Her thumb paused over an Instagram story from Beth Mead, recognizing several familiar faces in the crowd. She smiled at the sight of you laughing with your friends, but as the story continued to play, her heart dropped. In the background of the video, you and Leah were standing together, heads close, deep in conversation. The image of the two of you, smiling and looking comfortable with each other, sent a pang of jealousy straight through her.

She stared at the screen for a long moment, her mind racing. Were you getting back together with Leah? Had she misread everything between the two of you?

Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and opened her messages, typing out a quick message to Ona.

Ale: Hey, I saw something. Is Y/N back with Leah? They were together at a bar, looked... close. Just want to know.

The message sent, and Alexia sat there, biting her lip as she waited for a reply. The logical part of her knew she shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but the image from the story kept replaying in her mind. What if you were moving on with Leah? What if she had missed her chance?

It wasn’t long before her phone buzzed with Ona’s response:

Ona: It’s not my place to say anything, Ale, but trust me it’s not what you’re thinking. Just... give her time to explain when she’s ready.

Alexia stared at the message, her heart still unsettled. Ona’s words were somewhat reassuring, but they weren’t enough to silence the nagging doubt in her mind. She didn’t want to overstep, but the thought of losing you to Leah, especially after everything you and Alexia had shared, was hard to swallow.

Back in England, you were unaware of the storm brewing. The night had ended on a positive note, with you and Leah parting on good terms, both of you agreeing that the past was where it belonged. You felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You felt like you were finally in a place where you could move forward and you had in mind the person you wanted to do that with, hopefully.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when you checked your phone, that you noticed a missed call from Ona. Confused, you called her back immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, leaning back against your bed, still feeling the contentment of last night’s resolution with Leah.

Ona’s voice was calm but cautious. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Alexia saw a video from last night of you and Leah. She asked if you were back together.”

Your stomach dropped. “What? No, we were just talking. Clearing the air.”

“I know,” Ona reassured you. “But the video doesn’t exactly show the context. You two were in the background, and I think Alexia got the wrong idea. Well actually I know she did.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. Of course, Alexia would see that. Of all the things to misinterpret... You could picture her in Dubai, overthinking everything, and the thought made your chest tighten.

“What should I do?” you asked, feeling the weight of the situation now settling over you.

“I didn’t tell her anything beyond that it wasn’t what she thought. But you might want to talk to her, explain things when you’re ready,” Ona suggested. "She’s over there worrying, Y/N. It’s not my business, but I can tell she’s thinking the worst, which I know isn’t fair to you. You both have baggage, and you haven’t worked this all out yet, you need to talk to each other. And properly Y/N."

You nodded, even though Ona couldn’t see you. “Yeah I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been great at doing that. I wanted to sort the Leah thing before I had that conversation with Ale but maybe I should have been a bit more open after the other night. I’ll talk to her. Thanks, Ona.”

After hanging up, you stared at your phone, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You knew you needed to talk to Alexia, to clear up the misunderstanding. But a part of you also wondered, what did this mean for the two of you. If Alexia was bothered by you being seen with your ex that much surely that had to be a sign of something right. Before you let your head run too much with this, you got out of bed and joined you family for one of your final days before heading back to Barcelona.

Christmas Day passed quietly for Alexia, it was just her mother and sister with her in Dubai, which is all she really needed. It was a much-needed break from the whirlwind of her career, but her mind kept drifting back to you. The silver necklace with the wave pendant had become her constant companion since she found it in her bag and she hadn’t taken it off since she opened it mere minutes into Christmas Day.

She ran her fingers over the pendant absentmindedly as she prepared for the Globe Soccer Awards, where she would be picking up the Women’s Player of the Year award. It was an honour, something she had worked hard for, yet the excitement that usually accompanied such recognition felt muted by the unease sitting heavy in her chest.

Ever since she had seen that Instagram story of you and Leah, a knot of doubt had been tightening inside her. She kept replaying the image in her mind, how close you and Leah had seemed, how comfortable. It had been days since she’d seen it, but she hadn’t reached out to you. She wasn’t sure what to say. Ona’s message had reassured her slightly, but the doubt lingered. Especially as you also hadn’t reached out to her.

As she stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the elegant outfit she had chosen for the awards, Alexia glanced down at the necklace resting against her skin. The wave, a symbol you had described so thoughtfully, felt heavier now. She knew what it meant, how much care and thought had gone into your gift, but that only made the misunderstanding hurt more. If you and Leah were rekindling things, where did that leave you and her?

Later that night, under the glittering lights of the awards ceremony, Alexia was announced as the Women's Player of the Year. The room erupted in applause as she made her way to the stage, graciously accepting the award with a quiet smile. She gave a heartfelt speech, thanking her teammates, coaches, and family for their constant support, but even as she spoke, her thoughts were elsewhere, on you.

The night continued in a blur of congratulations and photographs, but Alexia’s mind remained clouded. By the time she returned to her hotel room, the weight of the day had caught up with her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, her phone buzzed with notifications, messages from friends, fans, and teammates congratulating her.

She opened Instagram, scrolling through the flood of posts from the ceremony. As she crafted her own post, thanking everyone for their support, she hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, and almost instinctively, she glanced down at the wave pendant resting against her chest. Without thinking too much, she typed a line from your note into part of the caption.

And finally Merry Christmas. Sometimes in life you need your wave to keep you steady, even when you don’t realise it.

It was a subtle nod to you, one that no one else would pick up on, but she knew you would.

Alexia posted the picture: a candid shot of her holding the award, smiling at the camera with her necklace peeking just slightly into view. That along with the end of the caption she hoped would be enough to show you what the gift and you meant to her. Well at least until the conversation could be had, if you wanted it still after the Christmas break.

Back in England, you scrolled through Instagram while waiting for your flight back to Spain. It had been a whirlwind few days, catching up with friends, clearing the air with Leah and now, you were finally heading back home. As you mindlessly flicked through your feed, Alexia’s post popped up.

You stopped, your breath catching in your throat as you read the caption. It was your words, changed slightly, but still the meaning you had written in the note attached to the necklace. The same words that carried all the meaning behind your gift, now reflected back at you in a public post for the world to see.

Your heart raced as you stared at the screen, wondering what this meant. Did Alexia understand the depth of your message? Did she feel the same way? Or was this her way of saying goodbye before you’d even had a chance to explain?

Without thinking, you opened your messages and hesitated before typing a quick text to Ona.

Did Alexia say anything to you about that post?

Ona responded almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for you to reach out.

She didn’t mention it to me, but I know she’s been thinking about you. You should talk to her.

Your fingers hovered over your phone as you debated what to do next. The conversation with Leah had cleared the air, but now you were left with a different kind of uncertainty, one that involved Alexia and the feelings that had grown between you. And whether you were really ready for that again.

Taking a deep breath, you opened a new message to Alexia, your heart pounding as you typed.

Hey, I saw your post. I think we should talk when you get back.

The next few days passed slowly as Alexia remained in Dubai, the distance between you both growing heavier with every passing moment. The wave pendant rested against her chest, a constant reminder of you. And as Christmas turned into the new year, the tension between you both, fuelled by misunderstandings, unspoken feelings and lack of communication, remained unresolved, waiting for the moment when you could finally have the conversation that had been building for so long.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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puckinghischier · 2 days ago

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Dogtooth

jack hughes x fem!reader

WARNING - SMUT!!! minors, DNI. 18+. oral!female receiving, face riding

summary: just a lil jack thot inspired by the song dogtooth by tyler, the creator

notes: this is just a repost of the little jack blurb i posted last night, i just wanted to reformat it so it’d fit in my masterlist better. but!! this is probably my favorite jack thing i’ve ever written and i’m obsessed with this song so, hope you enjoy!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[2.3k]

dogtooth by tyler, the creator?? that song is soooooo jack coded.

it’s the right kind of cocky but also the perfect amount of loving his woman, which is exactly how i picture jack to be in a relationship.

he’s a pretty private guy, not enjoying being in the media too much and revealing a ton about his personal life. he hates media because he doesn’t like the feeling of people assuming they know everything about him. but his girl? she knows everything about this man and he basks in the fact she knows him better than anyone else.

and when he’s down for someone? oh he’s down baddddd. i mean, pining level shit. he always wants to be around her. always calling her. always texting her. he just wants her attention 24/7, no matter what he has to do to get it.

he loves to pleasure his girl. and that’s it, really. he loves any second he can spend making her feel good, any way she wants. he doesn’t even care about the reciprocation (though he does love when she returns the favor) because knowing he’s the one to satisfy her needs is enough to put him on cloud nine all by itself.

and the second jack hears this song for the first time? oh he’s got big plans for it. (and you)

you’d be sitting on the couch, waiting on jack to get home from a mid-day skate. he sent you a text telling you he was leaving the rink around thirty minutes ago, expecting him to walk through the door any second.

no sooner than the thought entered your mind, you heard the lock click, signaling his arrival. calling out a greeting, you’re met with silence. you turn your body to see why he’s ignoring you, noticing the small white ear buds stuck in each ear.

he sets his bag down at the door, no doubt filled with his sweat soiled clothes he wants you to wash. waiting on him to look up and acknowledge you, you lay your head on the plush cushions resting against the back of the couch. you watch him, never missing an opportunity to admire how pretty he is.

finally, he looks up and meets your gaze, smiling at your love-filled eyes. he pops one headphone out while walking towards you, rolling it around in his hand.

“hey, sweets,” he leans down to place a small kiss on your waiting lips.

you savor the taste of his lips, always loving their soft feel.

“tried to say hi when you walked in, but guess you couldn’t hear me,” you gesture to the one earbud still lodged in one of his ears.

he gives you a small, apologetic look. “sorry, found a new song i really like. think you will too, actually. made me think about you.”

grabbing his phone from his pocket with his free hand, the one that’s holding the small bluetooth device brushes your hair away from your own ear, comfortably resting the earbud there.

“here’s the thing though….i want you to ride my face while we listen,” he just casually tells you, not even looking up at your face, still fiddling with his phone.

you perk up, surprised at his casualness. “i- what?”

“you heard me, before i press play i want you to ride my face.”

said face in question is dead serious, not an ounce of mischief to be found.

“you…literally just walked through the front door. what happened to asking each other about our days? or discussing what we’re gonna eat for dinner?” you ask him, not knowing how to react to the sudden proposal.

he rolls his eyes playfully. “is this your way of telling me you don’t want to? because you don’t have to. just think it’d really add to the experience, s’all” he shrugs.

you still don’t know how to react to the pure casualness of it all. by the way he’s acting you’d think he’s suggesting watching a movie, not having you ride his face in the middle of the living room.

“i didn’t say i didn’t want to. it’s just a little wild for that to be one of the first things out of your mouth when you get home.”

jack snickers at your words, walking around the large sectional to occupy the spot next to you.

“not really. not for me, at least. been thinking about it all day,” he plops down beside of you, making himself comfortable.

his words shoot excitement down to your core. he’s been thinking about it all day?

before you can think of a response, you feel shuffling next to you on the plush couch. you look over to see jack laying flat on his back, head only slightly raised to look over at you expectantly.

“so, you gonna get rid of those shorts or what?” he asks, referencing your thin, cotton pajama bottoms.

“i swear to god, if i wasn’t turned on right now i’d slap you,” you grumble, standing and removing all clothing below your waist.

jack laughs a real, out loud, laugh this time, prideful in the fact that you’ve never really been able to (or wanted to) resist any of his offers.

he burrows his body further into the couch, making sure he’s in the middle of the large surface, ensuring there’s room for your knees to rest on either side of his head.

you climb to hover over his body, looking down at his hungry eyes that are glued to your bare pussy, following every movement of your body from that landmark.

“shirt off or on?” you ask him, sitting on his toned abdomen.

“off. wanna be able to play with your boobs, please,” he flicks his eyes up to your face, an innocent smile on his own as he bats his eyelashes.

“of course you do,” you remove your (his) t-shirt from your body, now completely bare as you sit on top of him.

“swear they get bigger every time i see them,” he says in awe, bringing a hand up to massage one of your full breasts. you moan as he kneads the flesh, stomach turning flips in anticipation of what’s about to take place.

“gonna press play so we can get started or you just gonna play with my tits all night?” you huff out, loving the feeling but growing needier by the second.

it takes jack a second to register what you’re saying, too lost in the feeling of the heavy skin in his hand.

“oh! yeah, almost forgot,” he reaches up to the back of the couch where he left his phone, picking it up long enough to press play.

you scoot yourself farther up his body, resting your eager core right above his chin. all you’d have to do is relax your thighs the slightest amount to make contact with his mouth.

suddenly you hear a smooth beat ring out in one ear, assuming jack’s hearing the same.

the second you hear the lyrics “she could ride my face i don’t want nothing in return” pour out of the earbud, jack inched his face up, licking a long, deep stripe through your folds.

you allow yourself to relax, sliding your slick pussy back and forth gently, not wanting to rush.

jack’s nose brushes your clit with every movement. you sigh at the feeling, not realizing how much you needed the friction until now.

the melody in your ear continues, but none of the lyrics are registering anymore. the feeling of jack’s tongue working through you takes every ounce of your attention.

“god, fuck! jack, best idea ever,” you moan out, picking up your pace slightly.

jack groans, letting his tongue still for a moment, allowing you to work yourself over it as you please.

fighting through the bliss radiating throughout your body, you try to focus on the lyrics at least a little bit. the chorus starts repeating, but the lyrics that follow make your head fuzzy in the best way.

“she could ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, except for some her time and all her love, that’s my concern” is what you focus on, the words squeezing your heart and your cunt.

jack smirks into your pussy when he hears you moan, knowing exactly which lyrics elicited the reaction from your body. you’ve always been the type to get off on the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear while he fucks into you, so he knew that line in particular would be especially helpful while his mouth is otherwise occupied.

your pace increases again as the song continues on, already halfway to your release.

jack brings his hands up to hold you still, your hole mere centimeters from his waiting tongue. he guides you to lower yourself onto the muscle, encouraging a slight bobbing motion of your body.

with every depression of your cunt onto his tongue, your clit bumps onto the tip of his nose. the pressure is a delicious form of teasing, the sensation gone nearly as soon as it’s felt each time.

“please, touch me. need you to touch me, jack. so so close,” you pant out, feeling the familiar swirl of your climax forming already.

jack grunts in response, the vibrations sending waves all throughout your body and you’re convinced you can feel it in your toes.

his hands leave your hips, traveling up your body until they find your sensitive buds, pinching and playing with each pink, taut nipple.

you jolt a bit, the motion causing your clit to slam against his nose this time. you cry out at all of the various sensations all at once. full with his tongue, rough hands on your tits, and round nose scraping against your clit.

the pure stimulation of it all forces your orgasm out of you, slamming into your body with the force of a train.

“fuck!” you scream, quickly shooting a hand out to grip the back of the couch, trying to stop yourself from collapsing on jack’s face completely.

you can barely hear the words “she can ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, and will i ever fall in love again? i can’t confirm,” ring through your ear, the soundtrack to your release, literally.

jack continues to work his tongue in and out of your hole while you shake and convulse above him, having to chase your entrance as you move. he continues to knead your sensitive breasts, each squeeze sending small volts through your already spent nerves.

he can feel your release dripping onto his cheeks, chin, and nose. he tries to lap up as much as he can, not wanting to miss a drop of your liquid pleasure.

your taste alone was enough to form the wet spot on his grey sweats, not embarrassed in the slightest he’s literally leaking from how turned on he is. but when he looks up at you above him, skin damp and eyes half rolled into the back of your head, mixed with the feeling of your body tightening around his tongue so harshly he can’t even pull it out, he blows his load right then and there.

he can feel the last flutters of your walls around his tongue, not stopping his movements until you pull back, having half a mind to keep going and work another orgasm out of your sensitive state. he moans through his own unprompted release, the only thing keeping him from following his sudden impulse to overstimulate you.

once the tired muscles in your thighs stop shaking, and your breath evens out, you can hear the fading of the music in your ear, signaling the end of the song. you push up slightly on your knees, detaching yourself from jack’s mouth as he chases your now swollen cunt, a small whine escaping him at the action.

“jack…the song’s over,” you manage the words somehow, in awe that he made you come in only a single song’s length.

“i can hit replay,” he rushes out, already reaching to grab his phone again.

you squeak out a slightly panicked “no,” while shaking your head, worried if he started again you might actually explode. you let yourself relax fully, scooting back so you can rest yourself on his lower abdomen once again, but the feeling of something wet stops you.

jerking back up, you turn and look down, spotting the large, wet stain on his sweatpants. you can’t stop staring at it, wondering if you’re really looking at what you think you’re looking at.

“jack…did you…” you trail off, turning back around to look at him.

he smirks as he leans himself up on his elbows. “sure did, sweets. you have no clue how much i enjoyed that.”

you laugh at his pride filled face. “pretty sure i do, seeing as i just sat on the evidence.”

he simply shrugs, patting your bare ass lightly to signal you to stand. you swing your legs over his body, standing and bending over to pick up your discarded underwear and slide it back up your legs.

“so….about that dinner conversation,” you ask him as he stands, suddenly way hungrier than you were when he first got home.

it’s his turn to laugh at you, walking over and removing the now silent earbud from your ear.

“whatever you want is fine with me. i already ate,” he gives you a kiss on the forehead then turns to walk towards the bedroom.

“oh…not even right, you dick,” you huff, following it with telling him you’re ordering his least favorite take out, a punishment for his sass.

making your way to the kitchen to dig through the different take out menus, you hear jack shout your name once again.

“i was thinking, how do you feel about that being our wedding song?” he asks, poking his now shirtless, but clean sweats clad, figure out of the bedroom door.

“jack!” you shout, scolding him as his loud cackle rings out around you, causing your own amused smile to break out on your face.

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goddessofchaosss · 1 day ago

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Most people would see Ellie as a strong non submissive. Hard headed, stubborn woman. Most girls would say that she doesn’t look like the type to like being called pretty or let someone else take the reigns

Ironic considering that Ellie really likes being called pretty and be praised, especially in bed

At first when y’all started dating, she was very dominant and didn’t really make loud noises because she’s was pretty shy around you. But after awhile she got more comfortable and relaxed, and didn’t seem to hold back. Well that’s what u thought. Now imagine the realization when u notice how much she likes being praised, I mean she’s so wet.

What shocked u is that she’s sooo whiny and whimpers when u touch and say things the right way. Nibble her ear, check. Lick and suck her neck, check. Grind on her thigh or her crotch, check. Grip her neck and have a nasty messy make out, absolutely check.

If u call her a pretty girl while grinding on her or touching her, then best believe she will let out the nastiest sound and her boxers will be soaked. She gets so desperate that her hands shake around ur waist, she just can’t wait to put her pretty pussy on urs or fuck u real good with the strap:(

“Please baby- don’t stop”

“Ellie- fuck, ur so pretty”

She will hide her pretty fucking face in ur neck because of how red her face feels. She’ll feel herself drip and feel so sticky between her pretty legs. She’ll be so annoyed with herself because she wants to make u come and be all whiny and shit, so why is she the one receiving the earth shattering head while being called a good girl? Are u trying to kill her? She feels her goddamn heart in her fucking throat.

“God- ur such a good girl baby, I-I love you so much fuck-“

“U make me feel soso good baby”

“U-ur gonna make me cum angel, hahh my god”

She will come fast if u pull her hair, tell her how good she is and that she’s doing an amazing job. She’ll start breathing deep, fast and swear under her breath whilst trying not to be so fucking loud but that’s impossible since ur touching every single sensitive spot on her body;)

She’s just a girl🎀

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nataliasquote · 3 days ago

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Double the trouble | Switch Up | n romanoff

Double the trouble AU

Summary: Yelena is back, the twins are older, and her scheming ways do nothing but backfire. a mother always knows…

Age: 8

Warnings: none

wc: 3.3k

note: hello! I’m back with another little oneshot for DTT. I’ve missed writing tbh and although this isn’t the best, I’m pleased to finally write. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting!

-⧗-

Leaving the twins with Yelena was either the best idea or the worst idea Natasha had ever had. But with Wanda away visiting her brother, Natasha didn’t really have much of a choice. Work didn’t allow her to take time off like this, so she turned to the next best thing.

The blonde was as grumpy as anything until she was faced with the two bundles of joy that were her nieces. She hated kids, but Isla and Y/n were an exception. She opened the door with a huge grin as the twins came barreling towards her, crouching barely over the threshold to collect them in a hug.

Natasha hovered back by the stairs with a soft smile tugging at her lips. Despite having a rocky patch, she truly loved Yelena with all her heart. And seeing her girls happy was all that mattered. She wished she could stay, but with new development plans happening at the studio, she had to oversee the final meeting.

“Are you staying all day?” Isla asked, peering round to look at Yelena’s truck parked in the driveway. “Where’s Fanny?”

“I’ll get her out in a minute, and yes I am, lucky duck.” The twins cheered at her response, their chatter tumbling over the top of each other as they bombarded their aunt with questions. Natasha quickly stepped in, taking them by the hand so Yelena could finally enter the house. After sending her girls over to the couch, Natasha pulled Yelena to one side, whispering in hushed voices.

“It shouldn’t take long, but in case I’m held back, there’s boxed mac and cheese in the cupboard and the girls made cookies last night so they’re in the green jar.”

“Mac and cheese, green jar, got it.”

“Please don’t give them too much sugar,” Natasha warned, knowing her sister’s tendencies, “and they have been arguing a lot, so good luck.” She didn’t really need to tell Yelena what to do, she’d babysat since they were really little, but it gave Natasha a piece of mind to know they were well looked after.

“Natasha, they’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me? Yelena asked with a grin.

“Absolutely not.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “So who’s the troublemaker this time?”

“Y/n has been in a mood for the past few days, so it’s currently her. Apparently Isla's existence annoys her.” As if on cue, a yell sounded from the living room and Natasha inwardly groaned. A moment of peace was never on the cards.

As she went to sort out whatever argument was occurring with her eight year olds, Yelena let Fanny out of the car and watched the Akita bound up the front steps, her tail wagging frantically. Any normal person would feel bad about the amount of hair she shed, but it only made Yelena laugh. She truly made every place her home.

The scene in the living room was absurd even for Yelena. Natasha was scolding a pouting Y/n whilst Isla cried in her arms, clutching something hidden behind her hair. Yelena hovered awkwardly, unsure how to approach, and Fanny did the same. It was almost like she could read the room.

Natasha, breathing a sigh of relief, gestured for Yelena to approach, to which she did. A sniffly Isla was pushed in her direction and the young girl lunged at her aunt, clinging to her waist with a sob.

“What happened?” Yelena mouthed, her eyebrows shooting up as Natasha held up what looked like a barbie doll. “Where’s the hair?”

“This one got scissor happy,” Natasha said exasperatedly, jabbing her thumb in Y/n’s direction.

“She stole my barbie!” Y/n protested, folding her arms across her chest in a huff.

“No!” Isla burst out,” that’s mine!”

“Well I don’t care, I was playing with it!”

“Get your own!”

Above their heads, Natasha gave Yelena a look. This is what she had been dealing with since Wanda left and although she hated leaving her kids, the bickering was starting to wear her down. It was Yelena’s turn to handle it for once. She just hoped the house would still be standing when she got back.

“Girls, please,” Natasha sighed, standing up with the barbie in her hand. “Mama has to go in a minute, and I’m not having you acting up for Yelena.” She used her stern mom voice and Y/n paled, hating being told off. “Y/n, can you apologise to Isla please.”

“No.”

Natasha may have a soft spot for her youngest but the glare that crossed her features made the little girl’s eyes well up and she hung her head in shame. “Y/n…” Natasha warned, knowing what came next if she didn’t start behaving.

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of her pink sweater.

“Good,” Natasha stated, brushing off the dog hair from her sleek black suit trousers. “I want you two on your best behaviour, and Yelena will tell me everything that happens. If I find out that you’ve been disrespectful and naughty, I will tell Mama. Okay?”

The girls mumbled in chorus, with Isla still clinging on to Yelena and Y/n standing by herself. It was just a phase, Natasha had to keep reminding herself that, but it certainly felt as though it was going to last forever. She wasn’t the bad mom, but Y/n’s behaviour had been so bad lately that not a day went by where she wasn’t being told off. It hurt her to see her daughter so upset, but Natasha stood strong. It was her own kindred spirit that she saw in Y/n, and now she understood why she was such a difficult child sometimes.

“We’re going to have fun, right guys?” Yelena asked with extravagant enthusiasm, although the responses she got were far from it. “You can go and do your boring adult stuff whilst the cool kids do… cool kid stuff.”

Natasha anxiously glanced at her kids, a wave of doubt washing over her. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can cancel-”

“Natasha, go, I’ll be fine. They’re angels with me and I’ve got Fanny with me if it all goes wrong.”

The dog in question gave a small woof and Natasha eyed her warily, far more a cat person than a dog person. She wasn’t totally convinced, but motherhood had made her anxious so she straightened out her jacket and nodded, psyching herself up.

“I’ll be back by 5, 6 at the latest.”

“Have a good day Mama,” Y/n said quietly, trying desperately to get back on her good side. Having Wanda mad at her was bad enough, but having Natasha was the worst thing she could think of. And when her Mama crouched down and opened her arms, Y/n took her chance to get to the hug first, muttering another ‘sorry’ to try and make amends.

“Be good, girls. I’ll be home soon.”

‘Aunty Lena, does Mama hate me?” Y/n asked as the door closed. The blonde frowned and turned to her niece, her large green eyes piercing into the Russian’s soul.

“Of course not, little bug. But you have to start being nice to Isla, okay?”

“I know,” Y/n replied. “She just really makes me mad.”

“That’s what sisters do. Your mama and I used to fight all the time.”

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “You did?”

“It’s totally normal, little bug. When your mama had blue hair, I used to tease her about it all the time.”

Isla’s head perked up at that. “Mama had blue hair?”

“Has she never shown you pictures?” Yelena asked in disbelief. Both girls shook their heads and Yelena grinned. “I’ll make some hot chocolate and I can show you. Your grandma put all our photos as kids in an album.”

The twins cheered loudly and ran to the kitchen, laughing with each other. It was such a stark contrast to earlier that Yelena had to do a double take at what she was witnessing.

“I’m glad you’re not this much work,” she muttered to Fanny, who barked happily at the noise. Kids really were hard work.

~~~

“Lena, kick it!” Isla yelled across the garden, dancing around the goal whilst her aunt really took her time. She was doing it purely to mess with her niece, and it was working perfectly. With another yell, Isla sprinted out of the goal in an attempt to tackle, but Yelena took her chance and sent the ball flying into the goal with a thud.

“That’s not fair!” She cried, running over to retrieve it.

“Another point to Aunt Lena!” Y/n announced from her place at the side before launching into another back walkover. She’d only recently learned the skill at dance and was more than happy to do acro tricks whilst they played. As long as she kept score as promised.

“No! That doesn’t count,” Isla protested, one foot propped up on the ball. “She cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat, you just have no patience,” Yelena said sassily, propping a hand up on her hip. “You’re not going to make a very good goal keeper.”

“I hate soccer anyway,” Isla grumbled, kicking the ball as hard as she could in Yelena’s direction. “It sucks.”

“It’s only because you’re bad at it,” Y/n piped up, now sitting on the porch steps after exhausting herself from cartwheels.

“You’re worse!” Typical comeback but Yelena had had enough. With a roll of her eyes, she marched towards the goal, giving Isla a bump with her elbow as she walked past.

“New game, I’ll be in goal and you have to work together to score. Deal?”

Isla shook her head. “I’m not playing with her, she can’t even kick a ball!”

“I can too!” Y/n protested, sprinting up to her sister. “I’m better than you and I don’t even have lessons.”

“That’s so not true. You-”

“Guys!” Yelena shouted, her Russian accent thickly coating her words. “Do you ever stop this fighting? It’s so annoying!”

The twins went silent, an uncommon phenomenon. Y/n muttered something under her breath but Yelena didn’t have it in her to care anymore. Every time she babysat it made her more and more impressed at how Natasha did it. A true saint.

“New rules. You have to pass it to each other before trying to score. If you don’t, the point goes to me. Okay?”

“Fine!”

Surprisingly, very few fights broke out over the course of the game. Isla did most of the scoring after Y/n well and truly botched her tries. But in her defence, her legs weren’t made for kicking the shit out of a soccer ball.They were made for cartwheels, which Isla soon got fed up with.

After far too long outside, Yelena rounded them up and herded them back inside after teeth started chattering and Y/n’s soaked trouser legs from falling over were turning her lips slightly blue.

After a quick bath she sat them both on Isla’s bed and dug through her closet for some comfier clothes. After a few minutes she sat back on her knees, her mind racing.

“Do you guys match anymore?”

“Ew,” Isla said, her nose scrunching. “Never. All Y/n wears is pink, and I hate pink.”

“You also hate dresses too.”

Yelena was quiet for a moment, the cogs in her head turning. She turned around with a sheepish smile, almost shaking with excitement.

“I have an idea, but you need to cooperate… okay?”

~~~

Natasha sighed as she stepped out of her car, her breath forming a small cloud in front of her. It was far too cold for October and she rushed up the front steps to get inside. The building work was looking amazing and she knew Y/n was itching to get back to the studio just as much as she was (there was only so much kitchen ballet they could do).

It was eerily quiet as the front door opened, only her heels sounding on the wooden floor as she approached the kitchen. She wasn’t met with a pile of bodies throwing themselves at her, which was probably more strange than the silence. Had she trusted Yelena too much and her sister had kidnapped her children and ran off to Russia? Honestly it wasn’t such a surprising theory.

Empty kitchen… empty living room… this was weird. But the sound of giggles couldn’t be hidden and Natasha kicked off her heels at the bottom of the stairs and took the stairs two at a time, her trousers straining around her thigh muscles. Isla’s laugh was the most distinguishable and she pushed the door open slowly, trying not to startle anyone.

The wholesome sight of the three of them sitting on the floor surrounded by stuffed animals was enough to melt Natasha’s heart and she smiled softly, leaning on the doorframe waiting for someone to notice her. And strangely it wasn’t Y/n but Isla who jumped up first, almost stumbling over Fanny to get to her Mama with a shriek.

Natasha caught her daughter in her arms and pressed kisses all over her face, warmth flooding her body. She would never feel complete when she was away from her girls.

Y/n quickly joined in, wanting the same cuddles. Natasha crouched down and stroked their cheeks before pausing slightly, squinting. Something wasn’t right and Yelena’s overly wide grin didn’t help her suspicions either. She stroked Isla’s hair with a chuckle and straightened up, her back aching from bending down so much.

“Did you girls have a good day?” She asked, watching as Y/n settled back on the floor beside Fanny. “You both look happier than when I left.”

“We played soccer and beat Aunt Lena!” Y/n piped up. “I scored all the goals.”

“No, I helped too!”

Natasha didn’t miss the way Yelena nudged her nieces or how their eyes went as wide as saucers. But the redhead just chuckled and took a seat on Isla’s bed, her legs slightly aching from standing all day.

Isla stood in front of her, clearly torn with where to go. Natasha knew she wanted to sit on her knee but watched as she settled beside Yelena again. It was impressive, Natasha gave her that much. Very dedicated to the cause.

“You did? Well done baby. Have you behaved today?”

“They’ve been angels, sestra, as usual. It’s only you they are bad for.” Yelena had a shit eating grin and it took everything in Natasha not to launch a pillow at her head. But she could not condone aggression around her violent children anyway before Y/n got any more ideas.

“Is that right?”

“Mama you had blue hair!”

If looks could kill, Yelena would be well and truly dead. If there was one thing Natasha hated, it was pictures of her younger self. She made far too many questionable decisions and went through one too many boxes of hair dye, so seeing pictures was a no no. Not even Wanda had seen many. And now her daughters had seen the worst ones which she was never going to live down.

“Yelena Belova… what did you do.”

The blonde just shrugged and jumped up, causing Fanny to do the same. The queen of avoiding things. “Who wants Aunt Yelena’s special mac and cheese?”

The twins both cheered and raced out of the room after their aunt, leaving Natasha slightly bewildered in the blue and white room. There were times where Natasha convinced herself that Yelena wasn’t all that bad, and then she pulled stunts like this and put herself back on top of Natasha’s hit list. But that was never going to change.

“What else did you show my kids, Yelena?”

No reply. Typical.

Natasha truly was outnumbered when her sister was around. But then she remembered what was really going on and a small laugh escaped Natasha’s mouth. Adorable, really.

Y/n and Isla helped as much as they could to make dinner, including standing on a chair to stir the boiling noodles and dumping the cheese packets in when instructed. Natasha was banished to setting the table after Isla gave her a lecture about her inability to cook, clearly something else she’d picked up from Yelena. But Natasha yielded, setting the cutlery down with a shake of her head. The longer it went on for, the more she tried not to laugh. And the more slip ups she noticed.

Like how Isla wouldn’t stand on the chair because she was scared of heights, even though yesterday she climbed the largest tree in the backyard. And how Y/n stood still when waiting for her turn, when she’d usually be twirling around with her apron. Natasha could only watch as Yelena heavily emphasised their names and the twins burst into giggles whenever they answered her. It was adorable to see and she couldn’t wait to tell Wanda.

They ate in silence, which was usually the case when mac and cheese was involved. And the girls did very well, Natasha gave them that, until she pulled an admittedly evil move.

“How about cookies?” Yelena asked once plates were cleared and the table was wiped down.

“It sounds good to me,” Natasha agreed, grabbing the tin and sitting back at the table. “One each, you too Yelena. And Y/n, you know the rules. You got in trouble today so you don’t get a cookie.”

She slid the tin to Isla who happily reached in until a protest sounded from the girl next to her.

“That’s not fair! That’s my cookie!”

Isla had already shoved her cookie in her mouth at this point, the crumbs sticking to her cheeks and the front of her shirt. She grinned happily, thankful she agreed to Yelena’s scheming plot.

“Mama! That’s mine!”

Natasha shook her head. “No Y/n, those aren’t the rules, you know that.”

Isla smacked her palm against the tabletop. “I’m not Y/n! She is!” She pointed at her sister harshly, who was licking the crumbs from her fingertips. “We switched!”

“Isla!” Y/n whined, “You weren’t supposed to spoil it!”

“I’m not losing my cookie, give it to me!”

“No,” Y/n said with a grin. “Mama said you can’t have one, so you can’t.”

“I hate you!”

Natasha watched the scene unfold, with Yelena looking more and more concerned. The blonde turned to her sister for help, but was met with only a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Do something!” Yelena hissed, but Natasha shook her head.

“Absolutely not,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair. “It’s your mess, you fix it.”

“Tell her Aunt Lena!” Isla cried, tears threatening to spill. “Tell her I’m Isla! I’m not Y/n.”

Whilst Isla was nearing a breakdown, Y/n’s mean streak thickened. “These cookies really are good.”

“Mama please!”

Natasha rounded the table and placed a kiss on Isla’s forehead before passing her the biggest cookie from the tin. “Here baby, you’re okay,” she soothed, gently wiping her tears. “But your Aunt is an idiot. I did know it was you all along Isl’s, I’m sorry baby.” She picked her daughter up and set her on her lap, holding her close as she ate her cookie.

Yelena’s mouth fell open. “You knew?”

“From the moment ‘Isla’ ran to me first.” Yelena hit the table, muttering ‘dammit’ under her breath. “A mother always know, Yel. Always.”

#double the trouble au #natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff daughter #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wandanat x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff #yelena belova

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multimilfs · 2 days ago

Text

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Beginning & End

Summary: Taking a late drive to get your mind off a few things, you get more than you bargained for from a not-so-routine traffic stop.

AO3

A/N: Wasn't sure how to tag this since Agnes is technically an Agatha... variant? persona? Also I didn't tag the Agatha taglist since this isn't technically Agatha? tricky tricky... This is basically just pure smut with a sprinkle of plot.. enjoy xoxo (also let me know if you want more of Agnes?)

Words: 6.2k

Included: Established relationship, Jealousy, Smut; choking, spitting, bdsm, possession, semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, daddy kink, roleplaying, power dynamics, dom/sub, teasing, begging

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix

You sigh as you lean into the leather seat. The music is loud enough to hurt, but you don’t turn the volume down, glad of the noise even if you don’t feel like singing along. Trees fly by outside the window as you drive.

A sign passes in a flash but you catch the number; 45. Your speedometer reads 55.

Making sure you’re alone on the road, you push it to 57 just for kicks. Even as the dark scenes on either side pass in a blur, the road ahead is clear. The moon hangs low and bright above, reflecting off the filled-in parts of the pavement.

The song changes and you sigh again upon hearing the familiar tune. It only reminds you of your wife; who should be home and in bed with you, but ended up on night-shift instead after hassling a suspect a bit too hard, canceling your planned evening.

Which leads you to driving the backroads between Westview and Eastview, hoping the journey will tire you out enough that you can sleep. Instead it lands you in the position of blowing past a hidden cop.

Just your luck.

You groan as you turn the music down and pull off the road into a flat area of grass. With the lights, you can’t tell if it's a Westview or Eastview officer at first. You have pretty good chances of getting off with a warning if it's one of Agnes’ coworkers.

But it’s not one of the regular officers. It’s the Chief’s car. You hit your head against the steering wheel. He’s been riding Agnes’ ass for months and will likely give you a hefty ticket just to spite her.

While you’re hitting your head against the wheel, there’s a knock on your window. You roll it down without looking, “Look, Chief, I know the deal. You can just write me a ticket and I’ll pay it tomorrow.”

“Oh, will you now?”

You pause.

Looking up in disbelief, “Agnes?”

“That’s Detective O’Connor to you.” Her face doesn’t change from the stern facade, “You were driving pretty recklessly back there. Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?”

Subtly as you can manage, you check your side mirror to see if anyone else sits in the police cruiser. It wouldn’t be unlike the Chief to put Agnes through some insane test. No shadows lurk in the other car.

You drag your eyes back to Agnes. She’s waiting, still just as stoic, but you see the mischief in her eyes. Well, if she wants to play, why not up the stakes?

Tilting your head and smiling, “Of course not, detective. I’ve been a good girl.”

A split-second pause tells you she wasn’t expecting that. She licks her lips before the act slips back into place. She scoffs.

“That’s what they all say. Wait here.” Her hand pats the open window before she’s heading back toward the cruiser.

You watch her walk away in the side mirror with a grin. Her confident gait stirs something in you, always has.

For a split second you consider throwing the car in drive and peeling out of here. You’re curious to see what Agnes would do. You hope she’d chase you all the way home; that way when you get there you could finally have a taste of what tonight was meant to be.

You want Agnes painfully. Between work deadlines on your end and long hours on hers, you’ve been too tired to do more than cuddle, or some heavy kissing on a better day. You miss the connection that comes from baring yourselves to one another. And the orgasms, too, of course.

Agnes is back at your window, breathalyzer in hand. You make a split second decision.

“Please, detective, I can’t afford another ticket, and my wife will be so mad.” You plead, using that innocent, wide-eyed expression you know turns her on, “Is there anything I can do to… pay it off, per se?”

To her credit, she doesn’t crack this time, “Are you soliciting an officer of the law, ma’am?”

“No, of course not! Unless that’s what you want.”

“Step out of the car.”

The commanding note in her voice goes straight between your thighs. You open the door and step out, watching her brows raise at only the long nightgown you’re wearing. There’s a chill in the air that makes you shiver. Her eyes are drawn to your chest before she shakes away whatever is going through her mind.

While you’re enjoying the game, you do hope she’ll let you get back in the car soon. The cold is unmanageable without more substantial clothing.

Agnes holds up the breathalyzer, “Open your mouth.”

You do so without thinking. A blush races up your face. Agnes can’t help but smirk.

It’s not the breathalyzer that finds itself between your lips, but two fingers that settle on your tongue and press. You jolt at the pressure. Tears come to your eyes as you gag, but the weight of her fingers doesn’t ebb. You fight against your gag reflex to curl your tongue around the digits.

Closing your lips around them, you swirl your tongue like one would around a piece of candy. Even through blurred vision you can see how Agnes’ eyes darken. She leans forward, staring at your lips.

Her fingers move deeper, pressing harder, fucking your throat. You swallow around them.

You find your mouth and throat empty as Agnes pulls out. Her hand grabs your face before you can close your mouth and holds it open, fingers wet against your cheek. She grins meanly.

“Stick out your tongue.”

The second you do, Agnes spits in your mouth. You whimper. It’s humiliating and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You leave your tongue in the position she demanded, obedient as ever.

Agnes laughs, “Swallow.”

Humiliation, in combination with your startling need for her touch, forces the tears to spill over and down your cheeks. The sight of them seems to please her. She’s always loved seeing you thoroughly debased; loves knowing only she can break you down like this.

Partners in the past did try. Yet they would hesitate, hold back, believing they knew the limits of your desire instead of trusting you. A few would panic when they saw tears in your eyes and pull out of the scene completely. You often found yourself pretending; toning down your desires to ‘acceptable’ levels and leaving yourself unsatisfied to avoid that worried look in your partner’s eyes.

But you’ve never had to pretend with Agnes. From that first time, she went as far as she wanted, knowing that you were an adult capable of safe-wording if it was too much; it wasn’t. You had been dripping and needy the entire time. You had cried while she sat back and watched you polish her boots with your tongue, and had nearly come undone from the act alone. It was everything you craved—Agnes was everything you craved; trusting, dominating, cruel when it suited, and the most loving partner you’ve ever known.

You had vowed then and there that you weren’t letting her get away. And how lucky for you that she put a ring on your finger; the ring that is so much more than a symbol of love; but a brand, too, just as you desire.

“I wonder what your wife would think of you offering yourself up to me,” Agnes muses, “but you’re so eager for it, I can’t help but wonder if she’s not satisfying you properly.”

“Only you can satisfy me, detective.” You flutter your lashes.

That draws a real laugh from her. Something inside you preens. You lean forward into Agnes’ space, angling your head for a kiss, but she pulls back.

“Be that as it may, soliciting an officer is a crime, as is reckless driving.” Her hands reach for her belt, where her handcuffs rest in one of the holsters, “I’m going to have to take you in.”

Though the idea of being cuffed and fucked however she pleases excites you, you’re not entirely pleased with how your original plan was ruined. Agnes knew where the line was during interrogations and she crossed it. Knowingly. It’s safe to say you’re a little pissed she acted out.

A mean-spirited voice in your head considers pushing Agnes away entirely, leaving her wet and turned on for the rest of the night shift while you go home and find solace in your favorite toy. The rational part of you knows that no toy can replace your wife, and it’s her you want. You’re just not going to make it easy for her.

You fall to your knees before she can work the cuffs off her belt. She jolts at the unexpected change. You slam against the ground pretty hard and wince, but don’t dare stop.

Your hands find her belt buckle. Deftly, you start to undo it, “Please, I can make you feel good. I’ll do anything.”

Agnes raises her brows. She doesn’t stop you from undoing her belt or slowly lowering the zipper of her pants. There’s a tenseness in her jaw as she thinks over the request. Intent on sealing the deal, you move your hands from the front of her pants; instead leaning forward to place a kiss where they’d just been.

Looking up through your lashes, you beg, “Please.”

“Well, since you’re so eager for it.”

Ignoring the screaming in your knees, you shoot to your feet, capturing Agnes’ lips in a hard kiss. You attack with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, you slip your hand inside her pants and past the waistband of her panties.

She groans against your lips when your fingers play in her wetness. Your fingers ghost over her clit and you grin into the kiss. Two hands settle on your hips and shove, your back hitting the side of your car; it hurts for a moment before you’re once again lost in the feel of your wife, how she’s using her position to grind against your hand, the obscene noises leaving her throat.

Your clit throbs with every roll of her hips. It’s intoxicating that she’s just taking what she wants, using you as a toy to achieve her own pleasure. But the desire between your own legs reminds you of the end goal.

Agnes’ hips pick up speed, her usual low groans evolving into panting, high-pitched whimpers. She’s so close. You consider letting her have what she wants.

Moments before she can fall over the edge you pull your hand from her pants. Hands settling on her chest, you shove her back. She jolts and stumbles. Her fucked-out expression from seconds earlier shifts to confusion, then anger.

“What the fuck?” Agnes snarls.

“You’ve been bad, detective.” Still leaning against the car, you cross your arms over your chest, “Or should I say Daddy.”

Agnes stands straighter. There’s steel in her spine now, jaw taught as darkness comes over her expression. Amusement alights inside your chest.

Her hands begin to unravel the belt from the loops of her pants, “I’m going to paint your backside blue.”

“I don’t think so.” Your voice is hard. “You see, I had a lovely evening planned for us. Dinner, a movie, clean sheets for us to spend all night ruining. And we didn’t get to enjoy any of it because someone couldn’t control her temper. So you, daddy, are going to fuck me until I decide I’m ready to forgive you.”

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control, baby.”

Agnes steps into your space, belt in her hands. You stop her with a hand on her chest before she can get close enough to do anything.

“I am in control.”

“Those with the upper hand don’t usually have to state the fact.”

You tilt your head, “If you don’t give me what I want, you’re not going to touch me for weeks. I’ll fuck myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch. And I’ll stuff all the pairs of panties I ruin into your bag, your pockets… everywhere you go, you’ll be reminded of just what you’re missing.”

The smug expression slowly slips from her face. She tries to push forward again, but you’re unyielding; clenching your fist in the fabric of her shirt until she feels the subtle bite of your nails. There’s fury and a small trace of fear in her eyes.

It’s rare that you have the upper hand. Usually Agnes is twelve steps ahead of everyone—you included. But this time she miscalculated, and she’s going to pay for it.

“Your choice, daddy.”

She scoffs. Shaking her head, a few pieces of her hair free themselves from her low ponytail. They lay in and over her face before she blows them out of the way carelessly. She hasn’t been taking care of it, you can tell; and briefly, you consider if you can get away with commandeering her into taking better care of herself.

You likely shouldn’t push your luck. Agnes is going to punish you enough for this stunt, you’re sure.

The belt is tossed onto the ground a few feet away in a silent show of surrender. Her eyes are dark, churning with a mixture of fury and arousal. A brief moment passes where you wonder if you’re taking this a bit too far, but you shove it down; Agnes is an adult just as you are and will tell you if you cross any hard lines.

“Is the heat on in the cruiser?” You ask.

She pauses, taken-aback, “Yeah, of course.”

“Good. You’re going to fuck me in it later. But first—”

You open the back door of your own car as wide as it can go, just so you can perch on the seat with your feet still outside. With a smile, you open your legs wide. You hadn’t considered this outcome when you left the house for your drive, so your panties are relatively plain, but it doesn’t matter since they’re soaked through.

Agnes takes a step forward and you hold up a finger. She pauses. You point at the ground.

Her face goes red, “Not fucking likely.”

And then she’s on you. She’s holding herself up with one hand on the seat, the other dragging your face to hers. Her body rests perfectly between your legs. With a low moan, you roll your hips against her front.

Her grip on your face is painful. Thank god her nails are clipped short.

Agnes pulls away from your mouth to bite and suck at your throat. You throw your head back, still grinding up against her, moaning with abandon. The friction is nice but it isn’t what you wanted.

“I want you to eat me out.” You force out.

“I don’t care what you want.” Agnes growls.

“Oh? Well, I guess I should be prepared to handle my own orgasms for a while, then.”

As you say that, you stop grinding, and lay fully against the seat, one of your arms snaking its way down your front and between your thighs. You’ve only circled a finger around your clit twice before her hand catches your wrist in a punishing grip.

“Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed everyday when I go to work.”

“I made my terms abundantly clear.”

“You know what you forgot though, brat?” Agnes taunts, lips right next to your ear, “You’re too greedy to settle for your hand or your little toys. It’s only a matter of time before you get bored and come crawling back to me.”

“Maybe I’ll just crawl to someone else. Agent Vidal has been hanging around.”

A hand closes around your throat and you whine. She squeezes, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. You roll your hips.

“I’ll lock you in the house if you even think about it.” Her voice is hard, promising, “You’re mine, baby.”

“Prove it.”

That’s the wrong thing to say.

Agnes pulls back completely. Her hands leave you, the pressure of her body is gone. You look up and she’s standing just far enough away that you can’t touch her. You growl.

The look on her face is one you’ve seen a dozen times; the very same one she wears when you’re about to endure something you don’t like. But you vow not to let her have the upper hand. Not this time. This time, you’re going to make her bend.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She says.

The words are like a bucket of cold water over your head. You don’t spend long dwelling on the threat, there’s no time.

Agnes is halfway back to the police cruiser when you worm your hand into your panties and bury two fingers inside without preamble. Despite being the source of your own pleasure, you jolt, back bowing off the seat. The moan that leaves your lips is exaggerated; pornographic.

“Oh, yes!”

You hear her footsteps come to a stop. You don’t dare open your eyes, not yet. The pleasure you’re experiencing is real, even if it is half of what it could be with Agnes’ help, but you have to keep up the act—have to make her jealous of your own fingers.

Though she hates to admit it, Agnes is jealous in all aspects of life. There’s a bit of healthy competitiveness worked in there that you can admire. Yet some days… some days she comes home fighting mad, hair a mess and muscles clenched tight as she recounts the events that made her that way. And lately they’ve all had the same person involved—

Agent Rio Vidal.

A loaner agent from the FBI, here to figure out some of the more poignant details of a murder on the Westview-Eastview county line. She’s confident and cutting and painfully attractive. Somehow, she knows how to push every single one of Agnes’ buttons, in work and play.

You’ve only met her twice and each time Agnes was an animal afterward. The appreciative glances and suggestive words made you blush—and though you won’t admit it, turned you on a good bit—while Agnes could barely hold herself back from attacking the woman. So possessive. So jealous.

You can use that.

The door on the other car hasn’t opened and you know she’s watching with rapt attention. You put on a good show, rolling your hips into your one hand while pinching at your chest with the other. You could get off on her watching.

Another exaggerated, high-pitched moan, “Oh, Agent Vidal!”

Though the woman is attractive, you can’t imagine anyone but your wife. Agnes doesn’t need to know that.

Strong hands grab your calves and pull you half-way out of the car. You squeak, eyes snapping open. Agnes looms above you and oh fuck you’re in trouble.

“You little bitch.” She snarls, hand coming to wrap around your throat.

You try to moan but she doesn’t give you that much air. Another deft hand rips your own from your panties, even going so far as to rip the fabric off completely. There’s the ghost of her fingers above your center. You roll your hips.

The sensation of loss and blurry edges is usually a huge turn-on; maybe it’s the intense change from oxygen to no oxygen, but you’re struggling more than normal. You tap her wrist three times.

Agnes pulls away completely. Her hand is off your neck, the other gone from between your thighs. You take in large lungfuls of air and feel your heart-rate slow just a little. A little whine works its way from your throat, though it’s mainly a result of the throbbing between your legs that’s still driving you crazy.

Your wife’s hands hover over you, eyes concerned, “Honey?”

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” You assure, sitting up and kissing one of her palms, “The quick change just… startled me. I’m okay.”

“Should I… Do you need me to take you home?”

“Oh no, Agnes O’Connor, you’re going to finish what you started.” Spreading your legs offers an obscene picture of just how soaked you are, made even more tantalizing by the ripped panties clinging to your thigh, “Unless you want me to find someone else who can finish the job.”

It’s like flipping a switch.

Overwhelming is a word that could be used to describe Agnes in bed—smothering, even. She has a way of overtaking every single one of your senses at once. Your skin is on fire with her touch, with the faint strands of hair tickling your face. The scent of burnt break-room coffee clings to her jacket. You even taste it when her tongue invades your mouth, moaning obscenely against your lips.

You like being smothered, though. You crave it; aching for anything that will let you turn your mind off and just feel.

Agnes pulls back. Her breath is hot against your lips, “You’re such a brat.”

“Only for you, daddy.” You murmur.

A shudder passes through her at the name. Her grip tightens on you, near bruising. You moan.

“Where do you want me?”

“With your mouth between my legs.”

“Fingers?”

“Yes, please.”

Agnes chuckles, “So you do remember your manners. Interesting.”

You roll your eyes. To your luck, Agnes doesn’t see—if she had, you would have been punished accordingly. Though you realize things are a bit off-balance with your threat hanging in the air; any other time, Agnes would have you bent anyway she pleased, taking all she wanted until you couldn’t handle any more.

Being in control is… odd. Not unwanted, but odd. You have to be more aware of yourself, confident in every command that leaves your lips. You’re glad that this is Agnes’ preferred role even if you’re enjoying the change.

Lips kiss the inside of your thighs and you shudder. When she sinks her teeth in, you squeal, jolting at the change. Your hand falls to the top of her head.

“Not what I meant!”

“Oh, then what did you mean?” She taunts.

“If you don’t make me come right now so help me—”

The heat of her mouth on you is enough to shut you up. Her tongue drags up your slit with agonizing slowness. She teases at your clit for only a moment before repeating the slow drag, making you whine, pressing her head closer.

You feel the rumble of her laughter and god help you the vibrations feel amazing. Yet when you try to move your hips for more, her hands keep them pressed firmly to the leather seat.

Another threat sits on your lips that never comes to pass. With the last slow lick, she fastens her lips around your clit and sucks, hard. It’s painful and wonderful and your back bows off the seat, hands scrambling for anything to clench into. The weeks have been long and you know you’re not going to last.

“I’m going to come.” You force out.

She laughs again. That, in combination with her attention focused solely on your clit, sends you straight over the edge. You feel wild, unhinged as your hips move without any guidance from your mind, chasing the waves of pleasure that make your every muscle go taut.

But when the pleasure subsides, Agnes doesn’t stop. She pushes two fingers inside and curls them in that way you like so much. You clench around them, though you ache, not ready for more so soon.

“I can’t—Please, I can’t.” You beg.

“One more, baby. You can give me that, can’t you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

And you do. Her fingers know every inch of you well, her mind cataloging every spot that makes you whine, every move she performs that sends you over the edge. She calls on that knowledge as the pads of her fingers rub against that spot inside you with abandon until you can’t breathe, shrieking and moaning loud enough that you worry someone will hear you miles away.

The pleasure tenses your body so tight that you worry the muscles will never relax again. It hurts in that delicious way only Agnes can bring out.

When you do relax, she’s licking gently at you, collecting the flavor on her tongue and savoring it like a fine wine. You twitch. The hand you have in her hair pushes as you attempt to slide further onto the seat, away from her mouth.

“No more,” you beg, “please.”

“Am I forgiven?”

You laugh, breathless, “Not quite.”

You tug her up wordlessly until the weight of her is draped over you. It’s nice, comforting to feel her close. Her warmth helps fight against the cold biting at your lower half. Sighing, you bury your face in her neck, your hand coming up to lazily play with her hair.

Agnes accepts the touch. She traces little patterns on your hip over the nightgown, soft and quiet. You can still see the red and blue lights from your hiding place in her neck.

“Why do you have the Chief’s car?” You ask.

She scoffs, “Mine broke down three hours into the shift. Had to call the Chief and walk all the way to his house to get the cruiser.”

“What? Agnes, why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted you to enjoy your night in, honey.”

You think about arguing, but you recognize the exhaustion in her voice, and decide not to push it—for now. It’s an argument you can save for later.

“So what was it, the battery? I thought we just replaced it.”

“I think the old girl might just be done for. We’ve had her for a while.” Agnes shrugs.

“But that’s… we brought Nicky home in that car.” You whisper, chest aching.

Another piece of your life—connected to your baby—that you won’t get to keep. Agnes tenses, her breathing growing ragged, and you feel terrible; she’s likely already thought about this the whole shift, spent all these hours remembering it alone. That’s why she didn’t call you—she didn’t want to drag you bag into the deep end of the pain, too.

You press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. No wonder she took the first opportunity to play with you, she needed the distraction.

“I’m sorry, my love.” You murmur.

“Not your fault, honey. These things happen.”

She sounds less and less like herself with every moment. You don’t want to shove the grief aside—the grief counselor said that only made things worse—but this isn’t how you want to handle it; Agnes draped over your freshly-debauched form in the backseat of your car.

This is a conversation, a breakdown for home, where the two of you can take all the time you need to soak in the new loss. You need to distract her away from this.

“Will the force offer you one of their vehicles?”

“Yeah. They should.”

“Where did you break down?”

“By the bridge on Old Forest.”

Perfect.

“Let’s give her a proper sendoff, then.”

Agnes pauses. The look she gives you is questioning, as if not quite believing your suggestion, but she knows better—knows you’re serious about this.

“Alright.”

Which is how you find yourself halfway across town, on a back road with no streetlights, pulling off perilously close to a ditch. Agnes' car is unmistakable even in the dark—from the extra mirror on the hood reflecting the moonlight to the dent in the back bumper she never got fixed. You feel suddenly overwhelmed as you trace your fingers over the body.

So many memories, good and bad. Your late-night trysts in the back seat. Bringing Nicky home. The back seat full of his stinky sports gear. Agnes’ old case files winding up on the floor.

Agnes comes up and drapes her jacket over your shoulders. The warmth of her body has seeped into the cloth, now blocking out the chill in the air, “This might not be the best idea.”

You raise a brow, “Cold feet, detective?”

“Mine are nice and warm. Yours, however...”

She looks up and down your scantily-clad form with a worried furrow of her brow. It’s sweet, but not needed.

“I don’t think our plans will keep me anything but warm.” You smile, leaning back against the car while pulling Agnes close, until every inch of her is pressed against your front. Her hands settle on your hips as she kisses you with a softness belaying the vulnerability she still feels, “Unlock the car.”

“Honey—”

“Agnes, would you rather I went home?” You murmur.

“Of course not.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Beats me.”

“You know what I want?”

Using your leverage against the vehicle, you draw one of your feet up the inside of Agnes’ leg, careful to press every part of yourself against her. Her warmth radiates through her flannel and jeans and you smile.

She raises a brow, “I’m sure I can guess.”

“I want you to bend me over in the backseat of this car like you did that first time. You remember, don’t you? How pissed you were that I’d been teasing you for five dates.” You laugh at the memory, “You couldn’t even make it out of the restaurant parking lot.”

“You were so loud we almost got caught.” She recalls, voice low, gravelly.

“There’s no one around to catch us now.”

Agnes wraps one of her arms around your waist and uses it to tug you sideways, making quick work of unlocking the car. With the hand not on your waist, she opens the back door, and eases her jacket from your shoulders. She lays it out on the cold seats with the warm side up.

Not for the first time, you’re moved by her consideration of your comfort. It would be so easy for a partner to disregard the little things if it meant getting to the end goal faster; but not Agnes. You reward her with a long, slow kiss.

When she pulls away, there’s a fond little smile on her lips. She pats your hip, “On your hands and knees.”

You obey without question. Crawling onto the backseat, you’re reminded of just how confined the space of a car is. You have to keep your head bowed so as not to hit your head on the roof. It’ll be worth your while, but you know the two of you will be feeling the adverse effects of this choice for days.

Agnes follows and shuts the door behind her. She works her way into the backseat until not a bit of space exists between the two of you. Every inch of her front is pressed against you, draped over you like a warm blanket. You push your backside back into her crotch, teasing.

“I should’ve sent you home to get your purple.” You say.

“Be good and you can have my cock later.”

Warm fingertips trail up the back of your thigh until they snake under the hem of your nightgown. The soothing heat of her touch is lovely compared to the bite of the cold air. You lean into it.

“Yes, daddy.” You sigh.

Her body pulls away from yours and you turn, confused. A sharp slap to your backside makes your breath stutter, your core clenching around nothing. Your toes curl.

“Interesting that you want to be good now, when you’ve been testing me all night.”

“What can I say? I’m motivated by rewards.”

You’re satisfied that Agnes seems to be in the moment, rather than locked up in the memories in her head. Intent on keeping it that way, you lean back into her, arching so you can match her entirely. Her muscles go taut and relax and being able to feel it makes you ravenous.

Two fingers push your ripped panties aside and begin to drag up your slit, teasing. It should be noted that you are trying to be good for her, offering the control she takes to so well. You like to think she can tell, too.

When she slips her fingers inside you without torturing you further, you’re sure she knows.

You push back, desperate. You want more of her and bad. It’s as if the orgasms she gave you less than an hour ago never happened. Every muscle in your body quakes with the knowledge of what only Agnes can give you. And you want it so deeply that it threatens to bring tears to your eyes.

“Please.” You beg without prompting, “Please, more.”

A split-second hesitation belays her surprise, but she does slip another finger inside, stretching you even wider. You can’t stop how you move, nor the noises that come out of your mouth. You feel cursed with hunger only she can sate.

It’s this car, this backseat, and the memories here that are driving you so mad. It’s the life attached to it that you never thought you would get; a family, a future, a wife who loves you despite all the ugly parts others had run from. It’s the years you haven’t had to live out alone, the pain you’ve shared. It’s the fact that this act was once a beginning and now it’s an end.

Her lips press against the back of your neck, impossibly gentle, so unlike the role she’s meant to be playing. Something inside you breaks.

“Agnes—“ You choke out.

“It’s okay, honey.”

You let go.

You let go from holding yourself back—fucking yourself on her fingers until you shriek with pleasure. You let go of the ball of emotions in your chest, of hunger and pleasure and guilt. You let go of the pain and let tears spill over onto your cheeks.

It’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a goodbye to this piece of your life. It’s an end. And it hurts just the same as it feels good to embrace the potential of something new.

Agnes holds you, steady as ever. You feel the dampness of her own tears on your neck.

You turn and lay on your back, welcoming the weight of her. You use your thumbs to wipe away the tears coming from her beautiful blue eyes.

“Am I forgiven, or do we have to go another round?” She asks.

You grin, not taking your hands from her face, “You’re forgiven, my love.”

“Thank god.”

Agnes drops her head until it rests on your chest. You laugh, extracting the hair tie so you can run your fingers through the length of it. Her arms wrap around you as much as they can.

She presses a kiss to your chest, over where your heart is. You gently work through a knot in between your fingers. The windows are clouded with perspiration. Beads of water reflect what little moonlight peeks through the trees. Moonlight or no, you know every dip and curve of your wife’s form, and could identify every part of her without sight.

The stale coffee smell has worn off, replaced by the faint undertones of the cologne she wears each morning. It’s deep and musky and comforting.

Maybe it’s the weight of her head on your chest in combination with the memories that makes you speak, “Have you ever thought about us trying again?”

She tilts her head so she can look up into your eyes without lifting from her resting place. Her brows are furrowed.

“Trying again?”

The weight of her beautiful eyes on you almost makes you change the subject. These conversations are so much easier without that layer of intimacy. But you’ve started something and you’ll be damned if you don’t finish it.

“To be parents.” You whisper.

“I’m a little past due on that, baby.” Her smile is self-deprecating.

“I’m not.”

“You never wanted to carry. I remember that much.”

“That was then.” You continue smoothing through her hair, “Now… If you want to try again, I’ll do it. I want to do it.”

You can’t decipher the look in her eyes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s tense.

“We don’t need to decide right now. We have time.”

She nods, “Alright.”

“You’ll still be daddy, even if you aren’t my baby-daddy.”

“That was terrible.”

It doesn’t stop her from grinning, nor does it stop you from laughing. Something in the tension eases. You can’t lean down and kiss her like this, so you press a kiss to the pads of your fingers, and press them to her lips. She nips at them playfully.

The quiet is nice, but you can feel the cold settling into your bones. You need to be back in a heated car before you get sick.

“When is your shift over?”

“In a few hours.”

You nod, figuring out what time she’ll come home and how it fits into your schedule, “I have nothing after work if you want me to make good on those orgasms I owe you.”

“I look forward to it.”

It takes some time, but you and Agnes manage to untangle yourselves and worm your way out of the back seat. She sits, keeping you wrapped in her coat, until the inside of your own car is nice and warm. That earns her a few lingering kisses.

She trails you on the drive home before speeding off to do god knows what during the last few hours of her shift. And when you fall asleep—already feeling sore—an eagerness sets in your chest of what awaits. With an end, a new beginning.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along #agnes o'connor #agnes o'connor x reader #agatha all along x reader #agatha all along fanfiction #agatha harkness fanfiction #wlw #wlw fanfiction #nov2024 #multimilfswritings

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willowsnook · 3 days ago

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Devils Bachelor

Heyyy can I get roast beef and thousand island on sourdough? from @wusyanamegirlfriend

luke hughes x childhoodbsf!reader

I wanted it to be you

It was a warm late-spring day as you walked back from the grocery store, a quick stop after work to pick up ingredients for your usual Tuesday night with Luke. Tonight’s menu was a salmon Cobb salad you’d perfected last week. These evenings were the highlight of your week, and the fact that Luke always made time for you, despite his busy schedule, meant more than you could say.

You’d been best friends since childhood, but you assumed that life — especially his NHL career — might eventually pull you in different directions. Yet a year after he was drafted, he’d practically begged you to find work in New Jersey. You’d landed a position in a biology lab, and the rest was history.

Letting yourself in, you found Luke and his brother, Jack, locked in a chaotic video game match. Luke glanced over and flashed you his usual sweet smile.

“Staying for dinner, Jack?” you asked, unloading the groceries.

“If you’ll have me. Don’t want to intrude on date night,” he teased, laughing as Luke shoved him back onto the couch.

If only, you thought wistfully.

Dinner was filled with laughter and chatter about work, the boys listening intently as you shared your day.

“Has Luke told you about his new media obligation?” Jack asked, smirking.

“No, what is it?”

“They want me to be the ‘Devils Bachelor,’” Luke explained casually, rolling his eyes. “Basically, they’ll set me up with influencers and other women until I find ‘the one.’”

You froze, unable to keep the irritation from your voice. “Is that so?”

Jack snickered, but Luke, oblivious as always, simply nodded. “Yeah, actually. Do you think you could help me pick something to wear?” At this, Jack burst out laughing, and Luke shot him a confused look, “What?”

“Nothing, man,” Jack said, slapping him on the back and shooting you a wink.

Jack left after dinner, and you sat on the couch, half paying attention to the movie Luke had put on, swirling your wine in the glass mindlessly.

“You okay?” Luke asked, watching you closely.

Forcing a smile, you nodded. “Just tired. I think I’ll head home.”

He frowned; you never left early on Tuesdays. Walking you to the door, he pulled you into a hug, his arms warm and familiar.

“See you later, yeah? I’ll have to tell you how the dates go.” Your heart ached, but you pushed it aside, knowing he truly was clueless.

“Great,” you mumbled, stepping away. You wished you could be brave enough to tell him how you felt — but vulnerability was hard.

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

You tried to busy yourself the next day to avoid thinking about Luke going out with other girls, but it was hard. It had never really occurred to you that he goes on dates, as he hadn’t since he had lived here. The two of you were so domestic together that it literally felt like he was cheating on you even though he really wasn’t.

Lost in thought, you nearly bumped into Jack, who was waiting outside of your building.

“Jack! What are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use a drink,” he said, giving you a warm grin. You appreciated his care and agreed, following him to a quiet bar nearby.

Settling into a booth, you sipped your drink as Jack spoke. “I told him not to tell you about the dates,” he said, looking you in the eye.

You groaned. “He’s going to think something’s up!”

“Y/N, he already thinks something’s up,” Jack deadpanned, explaining that Luke was worried you were mad at him. “I told him it was ‘complicated,’” Jack added with a smirk.

“Jack…” you groaned, putting your head in your hands.

“Speak of the devil, he just texted me about the date.”

Your head snapped up, “what did he say?”

“He said it went alright, but he was annoyed that the girl didn’t want to order two entrees and share both,” he read off, and you laughed. Luke always insisted that you do that when the two of you ate somewhere, but you didn’t mind.

Jack smirked at you before typing something quickly.

“What’d you say?”

“I said, ‘you mean like y/n does?’”

“Jack!” You hissed. Jack put his phone down and looked at you.

“Why are we doing this y/n?” Why won’t you just tell him? He’s in love with you even if he doesn’t realize it,” Jack said softly and you sighed, looking away.

“That’s the thing, even if it’s true and he doesn’t realize it, what would happen if I confessed?”

“Maybe it would be the push he needs,” Jack countered and you smiled sadly.

“I can’t risk our friendship on a maybe.”

Luke’s POV

“What’s with you today?” Jack asked, watching Luke take a break from his set. They were at the training facility to get a workout in, but Luke had been off all morning.

“Y/N’s been avoiding me since last week,” he muttered. “She just won’t talk to me.”

Jack gave him an amused look, thinking about how literally anyone could put two and two together. Maybe he just needed a little push.

“How are the dates going?” he asked, changing the subject.

Luke shrugged. “A waste of time, honestly. None of them are really meshing.” To Jack's clear amusement, he went on about one who didn’t like sports and another who had never heard of Happy Gilmore.

“So let me get this straight,” Jack said, barely holding back a laugh. “The reasons none of them worked were… they wouldn’t split food with you, didn’t like sports, or hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore? Unlike Y/N, who does all that?”

Luke’s brows knit together. “Huh… that is kinda weird.”

Jack threw his hands up. “I love you, man, but sometimes you are so clueless.”

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

After you had destroyed the Taco Bell you had ordered, you were just about to settle in and keep watching Drive to Survive when you heard banging on your door. You debated not answering, as it was 9pm and you were wearing sweats and just a sports bra, but this person persisted, so you got up.

You sighed and opened it, expecting a neighbor. Instead, Luke stood there in a suit, looking a little disheveled.

“Can I come in?” he asked, and you stepped aside, letting him through.

He paced in your living room, running a hand through his curls. “You know where I’m supposed to be right now?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“I was supposed to be at that Italian place by the water. The big finale date for the whole ‘Bachelor’ thing.” He stopped, his gaze intense.

“Why aren’t you there?” you asked softly.

“I got there… and saw her waiting… and all I could think was how badly I wanted it to be you. I wanted to have dinner with you by the water, order shrimp scampi and lasagna, split both dishes. I wanted you there, telling me about some crazy future you put on the college football championship. I wanted you because you’re the one who gets me. I just… I just wanted it to be you.”

Luke’s breathing was heavy as he finished, and you stood there, speechless.

For a moment, you just stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. All the little moments between you two flashed through your mind—every Tuesday night dinner, every laugh, every secret look you’d tried to brush aside. You’d waited so long to hear these words, but now that they were out in the open, you felt almost paralyzed by the intensity of it.

Luke took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I know I’m slow, okay? I know I’ve probably missed a thousand signs and chances. But standing there tonight… all I wanted was you.”

The vulnerability in his gaze melted any hesitation you still had. Gathering your courage, you took a breath and whispered, “It’s always been you, Luke. I just… I didn’t want to risk losing you if you didn’t feel the same.”

He reached out, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at your cheek. “I’d never let that happen. You’re my best friend. But more than that…” He trailed off, his thumb grazing your cheek. “You’re everything.”

With his face inches from yours, you could barely breathe, but your heart answered for you. You leaned up and closed the gap, feeling his lips meet yours in a soft, unhurried kiss that spoke of all the moments you’d both been too afraid to admit. It was warm, familiar, and electric all at once, as though something that had been waiting years to begin had finally, perfectly, fallen into place.

When you pulled back, he kept his forehead resting against yours, eyes closed as he took a steadying breath. A small, slightly nervous smile crept onto his face. “Guess we’re going to have to relabel Tuesday as the official date night, huh?”

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #nhl imagine

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passengerprincessblog · 15 hours ago

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“Trophy Room” Lando Norris x Reader

Warning: smut, NSFW, alcohol, drunk sex, unprotected sex.

Summary: Lando Norris throws a party in hopes of getting closer to Y/N, a girl he’s been crushing on, introduced by mutual friends. Amid drinks, dancing, and flirtation, their chemistry culminates into a moment away from the crowd, hinting at something deeper between them.

WC: 2,000?

Lando’s POV

The two weeks off couldn’t have come at a better time. After months of relentless training, race prep, and following a strict diet, I was ready to relax a bit. It’d been ages since I let loose, and tonight was all about unwinding. But honestly, the real reason I was throwing this party had less to do with relaxation and more to do with her. Y/N.

I don’t know what it was about her—something about the way she laughed or how she didn’t seem fazed by the chaos around her. She’d come into my life through Max and Pietra, his girlfriend, and since then, I’d found myself scrolling through her Instagram, even browsing her Spotify playlists just to feel like I knew her a little better. I was surprised to find out she didn’t have a boyfriend. Not that I was checking specifically… but, okay, maybe I was.

The music was already pumping as people filled my penthouse. My mate Martin was on the DJ deck, setting the perfect vibe, and the drinks were flowing freely. The weight of the day’s workout still lingered in my muscles, but the buzz from a couple of shots was loosening me up. I was taking a shot with Max when I saw her walk in, and—well, let’s just say I almost choked on my drink.

I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to her. “Y/N! Shot?” I grinned, holding up the vodka bottle.

Y/N’s POV

Walking into Lando’s penthouse, I immediately felt a bit overwhelmed. The place was packed, and the music was loud enough to make the floor vibrate. I scanned the room for Pietra; she was the one who convinced me to come in the first place, promising me a fun night and a chance to unwind.

Before I could find her, though, I heard my name being called. I looked over and saw Lando, smirking, with a bottle of vodka in hand, waving me over. He had this look in his eye that told me he was already a little tipsy. The group around him started chanting my name, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, okay… fine!” I made my way over, and Lando immediately started pouring me a shot, spilling a bit as he did. He was definitely drunk, and he was being flirty in a way that caught me off guard.

“Don’t look so scared, it’s just vodka,” he teased with a grin. “Come on, cutie… I’ll pour you an extra large one.”

I laughed, trying to hide the fact that his confidence was making me blush. “I think I can handle it, thanks.” I downed the shot, my face scrunching up as the vodka burned its way down.

He burst out laughing. “Oh, come on, was it that bad?” He watched me, his gaze lingering a little too long, and I felt his eyes sweep over me. It was like he was taking in every detail, from my dress to the way I was reacting to him.

“You never followed me back, by the way,” he said, pouting in a way that was both ridiculous and kind of cute.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “Didn’t know you were checking, Mr. Norris.”

“Oh, I’ve been checking,” he replied, leaning closer. “Just waiting on you to notice.” His words were playful, but his eyes had a glint that made my stomach flutter.

He poured me another shot before I had a chance to protest, grinning as he held it out. “One more. Think you can keep up?”

I raised an eyebrow, taking the glass. “Are you challenging me?”

“Maybe,” he smirked. “Let’s see if you can handle it.”

I took the shot, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through me. The music seemed louder, the lights dimmer, and everything around me just felt more alive. I was definitely feeling the buzz now.

As more people arrived, the party got even more crowded, and every time Lando moved away, I’d find him gravitating back toward me, like he wasn’t content unless he was close. Eventually, he reached for my hand and pulled me toward the makeshift dance floor.

“Come on!” he yelled over the music, his grin infectious.

I laughed, letting him lead me, and he immediately started dancing, his movements exaggerated as he tried to make me laugh. His energy was electric, and soon I couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm. At one point, a few people bumped into me, and he quickly grabbed my hips, pulling me closer. I could feel his breath on my ear as he leaned in.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, smirking as he looked down at me.

My face heated up at his words, but he was already pulling back, that same cocky smile on his face. “What?” I challenged, trying to keep my cool.

He shrugged, giving me a look that was equal parts daring and mischievous. “Just stating facts.”

Before I could respond, he tilted his head, giving me a mischievous grin. “Wanna see something cool?”

“What do you have in mind?”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I wanna show you my trophies.” He held my gaze, and even in his drunken state, I could feel the sincerity in his eyes.

I felt my stomach twist in excitement and nerves, but before I could second-guess, he grabbed my hand, leading me down a hallway. His fingers laced through mine, and I could feel the warmth of his hand, grounding me in the moment.

He opened a door to a room that had a display case filled with trophies, awards, and helmets. The room felt quieter, the music from the party faint in the background, and for a moment, it was like we’d stepped into a different world. He watched as I took it all in, a proud but slightly shy expression on his face.

“You’re really good at what you do,” I said softly, looking back at him.

He shrugged, his usual confidence wavering slightly. “It’s just racing… I dunno, sometimes it feels like people only see this side of me, y’know?”

I nodded, understanding more than I expected. “Well, it’s impressive. But I think I’m seeing another side of you tonight too.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “You mean the drunk idiot?”

“No,” I laughed. “The Lando who cares, who’s goofy and… real.”

His gaze softened, and he stepped closer. “I’m really glad you came tonight, Y/N.”

My heart pounded as he looked at me, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something warmer, something… real. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his hand lingering for a moment.

Without thinking, I found myself leaning in, and he met me halfway, his lips soft and warm against mine. It was a gentle kiss, both of us testing the waters, but as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, the kiss deepened, filled with the energy and intensity that had been simmering between us all night.

He pulled me closer, his drunken confidence fueling his actions. With a sudden force, he pushed me back against one of the trophy cases, his lips hungrily claiming mine. I was taken aback, not expecting this level of intensity from Lando. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine as he sucked on it fervently.

His hands roamed down my body, finally settling on my ass. He gripped it tightly, pulling me flush against him. I could feel his hardness pressing against my core, evidence of his desire for me. My mind was reeling, trying to process the abrupt change in our dynamic. I hadn't realized Lando wanted me this badly, but I found myself responding to his touch, my body melting into his.

As he continued to kiss me passionately, I felt a sense of excitement and nervousness coursing through me. This wasn't what I had anticipated for tonight, but the thrill of the unexpected was intoxicating. His hands slid under my dress, caressing my thighs, inching closer to my most intimate area. I let out a soft moan, the sound muffled by his lips against mine.

Lando abruptly pulled away from our heated embrace, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the trophy room, his steps hurried and determined. We stumbled down the hallway, our laughter echoing off the walls as we made our way towards his bedroom.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he pushed me onto the bed, his body following suit. He hovered over me, his eyes dark with desire and his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. "You're so fucking beautiful," he slurred, his words slightly jumbled. "I want to devour you, my little puppy."

I couldn't help but giggle at his drunken attempt at dirty talk. "You're drunk," I teased, playfully swatting at his chest.

He chuckled, his hand grasping mine and pinning it above my head. "Maybe I am, but I know what I want, and I want you. All of you." His other hand trailed down my body, slipping beneath my dress and caressing my skin.

I squirmed beneath his touch, a mix of anticipation and arousal coursing through my veins. "Then take me," I whispered, my voice laced with desire. "Show me what you've got, Lando."

With a growl, he captured my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth with a fervor that left me breathless. His hand continued its exploration, sliding up my thigh and teasing the edge of my panties. I gasped into the kiss, my hips instinctively bucking against his touch.

Lost in the heat of the moment, I surrendered myself to Lando's drunken passion, eager to see where the night would take us.

Lando's lips trailed hot kisses down my neck as his hands continued to explore my body. He nipped and sucked at my sensitive skin, leaving a trail of marks that I knew would be visible in the morning. His drunken dirty talk continued, each word sending a shiver down my spine.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he mumbled against my skin, his hands fumbling with the hem of my dress. "I want to taste every inch of you, my little puppy."

I could feel his eagerness, but I noticed him struggling with my dress. A mischievous idea formed in my mind, and I gently pushed him back onto the bed. He looked up at me with a confused yet amused expression.

"Let me help you with that," I purred, my fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. His smirk grew wider as he watched me take control.

"Little puppy's not so shy now, huh?" he teased drunkenly, his voice low and husky.

I hooked my fingers into his waistband and slowly pulled his jeans down, revealing his hardness straining against his boxers. "Not when I've got you right where I want you," I replied with a wink.

I leaned down, my hair falling around us like a curtain as I pressed soft kisses along his inner thigh. His hands tangled in my hair, tugging gently as I worked my way closer to his aching member.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're driving me crazy," he groaned, his hips bucking slightly.

I looked up at him through my lashes, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. "That's the idea," I whispered before taking him into my mouth, my lips wrapping around his shaft as I began to work him with my tongue.

I continued to suck on Lando's hardness, my tongue swirling around his shaft as I took him deeper into my mouth. His moans filled the room, his fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as I pleasured him. I was surprised by my own boldness, but there was something about Lando that made me feel comfortable and confident.

As I bobbed my head up and down, I felt a surge of pride when I tasted his precum. It was a sign of his pleasure, and I reveled in the knowledge that I was the cause of it. However, before I could continue, he gently pulled me off and flipped me onto my back, his body hovering over mine.

He moved to check his drawer for a condom, but after a few moments of rummaging, he cursed under his breath. "Can I... please fuck you? With nothing..." he asked drunkenly, his voice laden with desire.

My face heated up at his request, and I felt a mix of uncertainty and need coursing through me. I knew the risks, but in that moment, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him. His lips trailed kisses along my neck, his hands caressing my skin as he waited for my response.

"Lando," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you sure? We shouldn't..."

But even as the words left my lips, I knew I was already lost in the heat of the moment. His touch ignited a fire within me, and I found myself craving more. I hesitated for a moment longer before finally giving in to my desires.

"Okay," I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

A triumphant grin spread across his face as he positioned himself at my entrance. "You won't regret this, pretty girl," he promised, his voice thick with lust.

And with that, he thrust into me, filling me completely. I gasped at the sensation, my nails digging into his back as he began to move inside me. The feeling was intense, overwhelming, and I knew there was no turning back now.

Lando continued to thrust into me, his movements fueled by a mix of lust and alcohol. His hands roamed my body, caressing every curve and dip as he lost himself in the pleasure of our intimate connection. I moaned softly, my hands gripping the sheets beneath us as I surrendered to the sensations coursing through me.

Suddenly, his hand slipped between our bodies, his fingers finding my sensitive clit. He rubbed it gently, his touch sending waves of pleasure through my core. I gasped, my hips bucking against his hand as he skillfully brought me closer to the edge.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he slurred, his drunken dirty talk mingling with the sounds of our lovemaking. "I love how you feel around my cock, baby. You're taking it so well."

His words only heightened my arousal, and I found myself clinging to him, urging him on. I could feel my orgasm building, the pressure inside me growing with each passing second. With a final stroke of his fingers and a particularly deep thrust, I came undone, my body shaking with the intensity of my release.

Lando followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled his seed deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me, his breath hot against my neck as he tried to catch his breath. For a moment, we lay there, our bodies intertwined and our hearts racing.

Slowly, he rolled off of me and pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me in a tender embrace. He kissed my cheek softly, his touch gentle despite his inebriated state. "Was that okay, baby?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically sweet. "Do you need anything? Water, a towel, my bathroom is all yours."

I smiled, touched by his consideration. "I'm good," I assured him, snuggling closer.

As we caught our breath, Lando helped me pull my dress back down, his hands gentle and slightly unsteady due to his inebriated state. He reached up to fix my hair, his fingers combing through the tangled locks with a tenderness that belied his earlier drunken fervor. A smirk played on his lips as he admired his handiwork, clearly pleased with himself for finally getting the girl he had been crushing on.

"Maybe you'll follow me back now, huh?" he joked, referring to the fact that I hadn't followed him on Instagram. "I mean, after that performance, you owe me at least a like or two."

I laughed, shaking my head at his audacity. "We'll see," I teased, not wanting to make any promises just yet.

Lando took my hand and led me back to the party, his arm draped casually around my shoulders.

——————————————

Thank you for reading!

Liking and following let’s me know you appreciate the writing! 💜

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris smut

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alwaysthefool · 19 hours ago

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But She’s Not You (x Zayne)

Technically part 2 to Opposite (linked) but you can read it stand alone too.

Warnings: insecurity

Tags: Angst to comfort, f! Reader (pro trans blog), MC Reader

Synopsis: After you saw him with someone else and misunderstood, Zayne lets you know you’re the only one for him.

Sulking at the waiting room couldn’t get past Yvonne’s sharp eyes. It had been a week since you’d come to the hospital. You didn’t pick up Zayne’s calls after you ‘ended things’, and him, being the gentleman that he was, did not push it. He was probably busy again, and now he had someone else to keep him company. Unfortunately for you, you had a weird and constant chest pain that was getting hard to ignore. You begged the receptionist to get you any other cardiologist than Zayne, which meant you had to wait, because Zayne would never make you wait when it came to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” She took a seat beside you at the metal chairs. “Trouble with the doc?”

You sighed, your head down, grateful she was here. “I saw him with another girl. Laughing, with another girl.”

“Dr. Zayne laughs?” Grayson slumped down on the other side of you. That just made you feel worse. Right, he was usually stoic, but who wouldn’t laugh when someone like her was making a joke?

Yvonne pinched Grayson, as if begging him to read the room.

“Well, he’s doing terribly.” Grayson spoke immediately. “I don’t think he took a break this entire week. Jo almost has to force him to take a break at times.”

Tears filled your eyes immediately and you hated that it wasn’t because you were concerned about him, but rather that he had another girl who’d remind him to take breaks, to eat sweets, to smile every now and then. It was selfish to think like that, but you couldn’t help but wish it was you.

“Dr. Grayson.” Yvonne warned, gesturing to you. “Don’t you have a surgery to get to?”

Grayson took the cue noticing your silent crying, pretending he was paged for something important, running away.

“There’s really nothing going on between them.” Yvonne tried to help you, patting your back. “There’s been new discoveries on Protocore syndrome treatments, and Jo is from the institute that made the discovery.”

You tried to stop the tears. Right, it couldn’t be helped. “It’s just… hard to be with someone like him.” You wiped your face with your sleeve. “Someone who’s always going to be wanted by people who are more than me. I’ll make one mistake, and he can find another girl who’s better than me in every way, and will never make any. I don’t want to spend my life thinking I have to compete.”

“Ms. [Name].” Zayne’s voice spoke from above you, sending your already struggling heart into a frenzy. “Please see me in my room immediately.”

You looked up to see him walk away, into his office, the nurse beside him, apologising to you. “I tried to hide it from him, but he was furious when I didn’t tell him you were here.” She whispered. You told her it was okay, silently following him. He held the door to his office open for you, closing it behind him once the two of you were in.

“You might be mad at me, but did you really have to try and change doctors?”

“I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“Nonsense.” He looked back at you with furious eyes. His hair was a mess, he’d definitely not had enough sleep, and you could see a bit of stubble on his jaw. No matter what happened, Zayne would put effort into his appearance, but you’d never seen him like that before.

You wanted to say something, ask him if he was alright, but you could only take your place on the couch in his office.

“How long have you been experiencing this?” He asked sternly, still standing, looking at your chart.

“A week.”

He shot you an exasperated look. “A week? And you’re only coming here now?”

I didn’t want to face you. You wanted to confess, but you settled with “I thought it’d go away by itself.”

Zayne tried to calm himself down, placing the chart on the table, sitting down on his desk with his head in his hands. You didn’t have control over yourself as your legs walked over to him. Even if he liked someone else, you couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t help but reach for him, your hand lightly resting on his back.

“Zayne?”

“Can I hold you?” His voice was broken, pleading. You let out a soft ‘yes’, and he immediately pulled you into his lip, hugging you tightly.

Was Zayne… crying?

“You’re here.” He whispered, resting his face against your neck, nuzzling into it, tightening his protective hold. Even if you couldn’t hear it well, you felt his wet eyes. He still smelled of coffee and mint. “Please don’t leave me again. I thought I messed up for good. Please give me another chance.”

“I overreacted.” You put your hands in his hair, and he kissed your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He pulled away, holding you firmly on his lap with his large hands on your waist. “I didn’t understand how it must’ve looked to you. I’m away all the time, I don’t make time for you, but if it’s not you…” He looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s no one.”

Your heart felt less heavy, the pain easing into relief. You took a deep breath, but it still hurt your chest a little.

“And I’m sorry for what I said.“ He continued.

You teared up again. “Yeah, you should be. You have no idea how I felt.”

“I’ll win you back, if you’re not yet convinced.” He kissed you on your cheek, taking a handkerchief out of his bag to wipe away your tears. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“What I came for. A diagnosis for my heart.” You smiled.

Zayne turned red, clearing his throat, helping you off his lap but not letting go of your hand. “Of course. I need you to come with me to get some tests done.” He used his free hand to look at his notes on the chart.

“And after that, you’re coming home with me so I can make it all up to you.”

—x—

#zayne x reader #zayne x mc #love and deepspace #lads zayne #lnds #l&ds #zayne comfort #zayne angst #love and deepspace x reader #zayne fanfic #zayne headcanons #hcs #fanfiction #zayne x you

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 days ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 3

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2

Chrissy Cunningham just slipped a note into someone’s locker. Robin doesn’t know whose, but it’s not Steve Harrington’s. She knows, because she’s had the absolute blessing of having him as her locker neighbor all year. And based on how often she’s seen Chrissy loitering in front of it with him, the gossip mill is right about their budding relationship.

Except Chrissy just slipped a note into someone else’s locker.

Robin watches her walk away, stomach curdling at Harrington’s name branded on her back. He might as well have raised a leg and pissed on her.

The hallway is largely vacant, everyone in their last periods of the day. Robin had been on her way to Pre-Calc after a quick stop at the restroom, but she’s scrapping that idea now: there’s a mystery afoot.

Robin hunches over the drinking fountain at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. She pushes the button but makes sure her mouth is well out of the stream of contaminated water. She’s not willing to risk botulism, not even for Chrissy.

The footsteps walk by without a pause, so she stands up, wiping the bit of splash-backed water off her cheek as she waits. After a few more false starts, and the clock ticking down to the end of the day, she’s almost ready to give it up as a bad job.

But then someone else starts stomping down the hall. She watches out of the corner of her eye, once again bent over the fountain, as Eddie Munson spins the dial on the locker and pulls it open. He immediately plucks an envelope out, pulls the tab open, and retrieves a pale-blue piece of paper.

Robin’s thumb slips on the button for the water–the abrupt absence of sound must tip him off because he turns to her, a scowl already on his face as he asks, “what are you looking at?” as he clutches the note tightly to his chest.

It’s too late. She’d already seen him smile down at it, blushing and twirling one of his curls around his fingers.

It sinks into her stomach until she’s sick, a pit to nurture and grow in the acid of her intestines. She can almost feel them writhing as Eddie’s scowl deepens into a glare the longer her silence goes on.

“Nothing,” she says, averting her eyes to bend down and pretend to tie her shoe.

Eddie huffs, and she listens to him stomp down the hall, as something wet and embarrassing begins pooling in her eyes.

She spends the rest of class hiding in the bathroom trying to get her shit together by brute force.

It doesn’t work; it never does.

***

After the random band girl had creeped on him in the halls, Eddie stuffed the letter into the pocket of his vest, half-read. The anticipation builds through the rest of the period and all the way home.

In the comfort of his bedroom he reopens the envelope and peers inside, giddy at the thought of reading the rest of the letter, this time a response to his own words.

Should he light a candle? Dim the lights? Eddie hasn’t seen a romance movie in a long time, but this feels like the sort of moment to recreate a scene from one. He’s getting love letters. Plural. Him. Eddie of the Munson doctrine.

He doesn’t even own any candles.

Eddie –

I’m not trying to bully you. I do actually really like you, and I wish I was brave enough to tell you. Brave like you. It doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of anything.

It’s ok if you don’t know how to respond, I’m just glad you did at all. I read it at least ten times and keep it in my nightstand drawer.

Sorry, that might be too much.

Yours, Always,

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. You’re always the best part of my day. I’m just glad I can read it at all. I’ve seen your penmanship, and I was a little worried. :)

Eddie brushes his fingers against the sign-off, the pen such a light touch that he can barely feel the grooves in the paper beneath that immaculate ink.

“Yours, always,” he says, quietly in the privacy of his bedroom.

But, he’s not alone in this shoebox, so Uncle Wayne’s voice calls a too-loud, “what?” from where he’s probably still in his recliner, camped out in the living room.

“Mind your business, old man!” Eddie calls back, already lost in the land of daydreams by the time Wayne’s laugh travels back through the door he’d forgotten to close.

Wayne’s always been a good secret keeper, but this one’s too big to share. It feels weighty somehow, like it’s an overfilled water-balloon and telling Wayne, or Jeff, or anyone might fill it up to bursting.

He doesn’t want to pop this fragile thing, not when he doesn’t even have a face or a name.

He wants to know what her name sounds like on his tongue, the way her mouth purses as she carefully writes each of these little words. He wants to know what her skin feels like beneath his careful fingers.

He wants.

But, a Munson’s a Munson, and they can’t always get what they want, so he presses his pen to the paper and settles for what he can have. Not a name, maybe. Not yet, but some questions still deserve an answer, right?

***

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of setting a drop-off location,” Steve says, biting his nails the way his mom has always hated. He spits the bit of nail out onto the floor. Chrissy gives him a disgusted look. “What? I’m nervous!”

Nose still wrinkled, Chrissy mutters, “that’s no excuse to be a pig,” barely loud enough for him to hear.

Steve stuffs his hands beneath his armpits, scowling down at the linoleum as they make the increasingly familiar trek to the library. Before the past couple weeks, Steve could count the number of times he’d been in here on one hand, and every single one of them was because of Nancy.

Now, it feels like he and Chrissy are always camping out at one of the tables, crouching over notepads and whispering even if the library’s empty. Steve might not be the smartest guy around, but he’s not stupid; if anyone finds out about this, he’ll be lucky to make it out of town before someone kills him.

“Calm down,” Chrissy says, holding the door open for him. He steps past her, hands still crossed over his chest in what’s starting to feel increasingly like a self-soothing hug.

Chrissy must think the same because she wraps her tiny arm around his waist and leads him toward a familiar bookshelf. “He probably left it in the same place as last time.”

The word “probably” isn’t bringing him much comfort, but Chrissy doesn’t give him any more time to catastrophize before she’s pulling that same useless encyclopedia off the shelf and flipping it open. And there, tucked cozily into its pages, is another note in Eddie’s scrawl.

Steve smiles down at it before remembering their location. “You didn’t even check for witnesses,” Steve hisses.

He peers over her shoulder, eying the lone student in the research section who’s bent over a heavy tome, paying them no mind. He snaps out of it when Chrissy slaps the letter against his chest before tucking it into the pocket of Steve’s varsity jacket. She’s taken to wearing it almost religiously, even as all the other cheerleaders tease her mercilessly for it.

“Calm down,” she says, already striding away, off toward their usual table as Steve rushes to catch up. “If anyone sees, they’ll just think I’m his secret admirer.”

Logically, he knows that. But some part of him feels like everyone will take one look at his face and just know. And no matter how hard he tries, it’s not a feeling that’s easy to shake.

“Thanks, Chris,” he mumbles, bumping their shoulders together. She stumbles from the unexpected weight, but before Steve can help steady her, she’s bumping back into him with a happy laugh.

No matter how this all goes down, he can’t regret it, not when it brought the revelation that is Chrissy Cunningham into his life.

Settled into their usual chairs squeezed tightly together, she opens the letter and slides it closer to him. Steve’s eyes devour each word as she sits idly by, waiting for his response.

Secret Admirer,

Oh, how your words wound me! My penmanship is immaculate, I’ll have you know. But it doesn’t seem fair that you know enough about me to recognize my handwriting, and I can’t say the same.

I understand if you don’t want to tell me your name, but what do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite color? What do you dream about?

Can you give me anything? You call me brave but sending me these letters is the bravest thing I can think of, and every day I get one of your letters is the best day I’ve ever had.

Sincerely,

Eddie

P.S. I hope I dream of you tonight.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s sighing wistfully down at the page until he catches Chrissy hiding a smile behind her hand. He smacks her in the arm with a quiet, “shut up,” but his ears are already burning.

“Can I see?” she asks, and all the fondness floods back into him.

“Course,” he says, pushing it across. He watches her face avidly, heartbeat ratcheting up as he watches a smile bloom across her face.

“He’s sweet,” she says, smiling dreamily down at the page for a moment before looking up at him with waggling eyebrows he couldn’t have imagined seeing on her face even a week ago. “He wants to dream of you.”

Her voice warbles teasingly, and the warmth on his ears starts creeping onto his cheeks and down his neck. Unable to help himself, Steve shoves her arm again. “Shut up!”

All she does is laugh and latch onto him to keep herself upright.

“He wants to know you,” she says, still smiling, still teasing, but it’s okay when it’s her, not like Tommy’s cruel ribbing or Carol’s barbed words. “So, what do you want him to know?”

PART 4

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic

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wonderjanga · 13 hours ago

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Pettiness

Everyone who dons the lightning bolt is petty. I don’t make the rules, they just are.

An easy example of this was when Marvel was forced to go to a party full of diplomats in Paris as protection for said diplomats. Adam only showed up because he knew Marvel would be there.

Marvel: “Wait, so you only came to this because I would be here? Dude that’s… really petty.

Black Adam: “It is not.”

Marvel: “Yes, it is.”

The entire party was basically the two deathglaring each other. Their behavior was that of two teenage girls trying to sabotage each other over a boy at prom. Only, there wasn’t a boy and they just flat out hate each other.

Marvel: *pours wine on Adam* “Oops, my bad. Butterfingers, am I right?” *fake smiling*

Black Adam: *grabs a champagne glass off a nearby try and splashes it in Marvel’s face* “Of course, butterfingers.” *also fake smiling though it’s coming off as more of a grimace*

Other Diplomats: *sweating because they can practically feel the hatred oozing off of the two*

Yeah, they did stupid stuff like this for the rest of the night. Also this behavior was solely reserved for Adam too, because Marvel was chatting it up with foreign diplomats in their own languages and all around being just a friendly guy. When the party was over they duked it out in the venue’s gardens. They made headlines in Paris and the rest of the world after they nearly toppled the Eiffel Tower. Marvel isn’t allowed in France anymore. Neither is Adam.

But hey, don’t worry, this isn’t exclusive to Billy and Adam.

Billy and Mary: *chilling on the curb, eating ice cream*

Old Lady: *nearly trips on them* “Little gremlins. Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

Billy: *drops his ice cream from her nearly tripping on them* “No miss-”

Old Lady : “Be quiet when your elders are talking to you. I can’t believe your parents raised you like this.” *storms off*

Mary: *squints at the Old Lady* “Billy, hold my ice cream. *gives him her ice cream and stands up and sticks her foot in some mud. Then walks up behind the Old Lady and plants a nice muddy footprint on the back of her dress*

Old Lady: *gasp* “How dare you!”

Mary: “I’m sorry, miss. It was an accident.” *fake smile (just like the one Marvel gave Adam) and skips back over to Billy*

Old Lady: “You cretin! get back here!”

Billy and Mary: *run off*

Mary let her younger (by only a couple seconds) brother have the rest of the ice cream. Sibling power for the win. Oh, and we can’t forget about Freddy. Freddy has tripped multiple people with his crutch and also given people little shocks whenever they try to take said crutch. He is just as petty as the others.

Billy and Freddy: *got thrown out of a store into the cold due to the fact they looked too homeless*

Billy: “Do you think we could try some heating spells when we get home?”

Freddy: “Yeah, uh huh.” *nods along, not really paying attention and points a finger to the neon sign of the store. He shorts out a few letters so the sign says something less than appropriate*

Billy: *little laugh*

Freddy: “So what about those heating spells you mentioned?” *is smug*

#billy batson #black adam #mary batson #mary bromfield #teth adam #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics

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janiehellion · 21 hours ago

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Falling Deep

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon was a quiet but curious young man—shy, inexperienced, and way more innocent than you’d expect. It was just you, him, and... a vibrator.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: VIRGIN!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / ORAL FIXATION / CUNNILINGUS / SEX TOYS / DRUGS & ALCOHOL / NON-CON ELEMENTS

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.925

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: PRE-APOCALYPSE—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @dixongrimesgirl

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Thank you for your patience! I know it’s been a long wait, and I can only hope it was worth it. This might not be exactly what you had in mind when you sent in the request, but I hope you enjoy it.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

The Chattahoochee was a whole different level of disgusting, even for a bar so close to the deep woods of Georgia. Low ceilings, broken lights, and the smell of piss and beer were present in every corner. Regulars stumbled in every night and day, a lot of them already drunk or high, but most of them?

Both.

It was the kind of place that was sticky no matter how much bleach you poured on it and where you could smell the bad life decisions coming from a mile away.

You worked behind the bar, pouring shots of moonshine and avoiding the greedy touches of men like it was just another part of the job. Which, in a place like this, it practically was. Located in the heart of the most godforsaken area of Georgia, it was the perfect place for the kind of people you’d rather not run into at any time.

Safe to say, Merle Dixon had been hitting on you since day one, coming at you with even worse pickup lines while high on who knows what. He'd lean over the counter, smirking, smelling like alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. "Hey, sugar tits, gimme 'nother," he’d laugh, putting a half-torn dollar on the bar like it was supposed to impress you.

"Watch the damn language, Dixon, or that’ll be your last drink for tonight," you’d answer, not even looking up as you poured him another shot.

"Hey, c'mon now," he’d answer you, "don't be like that. Ya know ya wanna gimme a shot at somethin’ else, don't ya?" He'd grin further, which seemed more lustful than charming, his eyes staring at your tits like they belonged there at all times.

You'd roll your eyes and shove the glass across the bar with a little more force than necessary. "In your damn dreams, Dixon. And keep your damn eyes up here, or I’m gonna rip ‘em outta your damn skull," you’d warn, but not entirely without sarcasm. It wasn’t the first time he behaved like that, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Then there was Daryl, his little brother, always standing or sitting nearby, almost like a shadow, or rather, like someone who didn't belong in a place like that. He wasn’t the type to come up and throw a pickup line at you; hell, he barely spoke at all. Just stood back while Merle tried to flirt with you, as if he was embarrassed to even be there.

You’d catch Daryl looking at you with these sideways glances, his arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for whatever bullshit his brother might do next. Or maybe he was scared, and he just had no clue what to do with a girl who would throw a bottle at someone's head and talk filthier than any man in the bar.

One night, Merle was high on meth that had his pupils blown wide, and he was drunk as always. "Y'know, darlin'," he slurred, leaning far over the bar, "I could make your night real fuckin' interestin’. Got a little somethin' else with me that’ll loosen ya up for some fun." He took out a tiny baggie—powder—white and unmistakable.

"Fuck off, Merle," you said with a smirk. "Go snort that shit somewhere else, where I don’t have to watch your annoying ass. Ain't your damn babysitter." You were used to it, but he was starting to piss you off more than usual. "And don’t even think about offering it to anyone else inside this hellhole. Last thing I need is you getting the whole damn bar high. Do that outside, with those who are probably shitting all over themselves right now."

Meanwhile, Daryl was sitting on a stool nearby, again, his eyes looking from you to his brother. You couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he looked, the way he watched Merle and every other person around. There was always something different about him—he was quieter, more... soft. The kind of guy who stood back and kept his head down.

"Leave 'er 'lone, Merle," Daryl mumbled, more to himself than to his brother. But he seemed to be sick of the whole scene. Not that Merle ever listened, or would ever listen to him.

No, Merle just rolled his eyes before shoving the baggie back into his pocket, not even looking in the direction of his brother, keeping his focus only on you... and your tits. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just tryin’ to show ya a good time for once." He grabbed his drink and stumbled off, probably to piss in a bush outside, and you were left with Daryl, who still just sat there.

Some time later, you grabbed a dirty rag and started wiping the bar down, side-eyeing him. "You gonna say somethin’, or just keep sittin' there?" You teased, soon throwing the rag under the counter and pouring him another drink.

He shrugged, looking away, clearly not sure what to do with himself. "Ain’t like I could stop him if he tried anythin’," he mumbled, looking down into his glass.

"If he tried, he'd go home without his dick. Not that it'd make much of a difference for him," you said back, smirking at him and trying to get him to loosen up a bit. "You come here just to watch me shut him down every night?"

It was a half-serious question, but you knew the answer. Daryl wasn’t like the other assholes—he didn’t hit on you, didn’t try to grab your ass or tits when you passed by, and never once called you some stupid nickname like sugar tits.

"I… jus' end up 'ere," he said awkwardly, his fingers tapping down on the counter. "Ain’t got much else to do."

"Well, at least you’re not tryin’ to snort coke off my tits or ass," you answered, making him go red in the face.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat, and you couldn’t help but find it kind of adorable.

"You know, since you come here enough, Dixon 2.0," you continued, "might as well help me close up sometime and throw the rest of these assholes outta here. Would get you a drink on the house."

It was just a passing suggestion, a simple idea, but his eyes looked up, like he was considering it, and for once, he actually looked into yours. Not in that drooling, perverted way his older brother did, but with curiosity. "Maybe," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dunno."

"You know what? Just think about it."

And so, the routine went on. Merle would walk in, and Daryl would sit nearby, quietly sipping his own drink while keeping an eye on his brother. And secretly, on you.

Tonight, though? Tonight was different. Somehow, you’d gotten him here, in your home, alone, without Merle, who was probably stinking of booze and piss all over again somewhere. His brother must have gotten his hands on something strong, or whatever it was, it gave you the perfect excuse.

You’d leaned in close while Daryl was mumbling about his brother and told him he should come over; maybe help you with something, and you told him it was important. You hadn’t even needed to lie all that much—he’d just nodded, eyes wide and nervous, and here he was, following you home like a little boy.

When he got to your place, he just stood there, all tense, and moving from one foot to the other like he didn’t know where to put himself. And you—well, you liked watching him squirm and being nervous, knowing well you were the one making him feel like that.

Daryl wasn’t even in the door for five seconds before you threw your bag on the floor, walking inside without saying anything else. No pretenses, no "make yourself at home." You didn’t bother with shit like that. If he was here, he was here on your terms, and you weren’t about to treat him like a guest.

"C’mon in," you said, standing next to the door to finally close it.

You saw him gulp, eyes looking around like he was searching for a quick exit he could use just in case, but finding nothing but trouble. So he nodded, stepping in, his shoulders hunched as he stood there, awkward as hell. Every inch of him screamed that he was nervous, but he didn’t run, not yet. You liked that about him. Quiet, sure, but still stubborn.

Meanwhile, your place was kind of a mess, clothes lying around, bottles on the tables—some empty, some half-full. A few were left over from last week, but hell, you weren’t cleaning for anybody, especially not for him. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, though; if anything, he looked like he was trying hard not to stare around too much, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, his face all red once more, while you kicked off those awful heels that made your feet ache.

"Go on and sit down in my room," you said over your shoulder as you turned around, smirking as you heard his quiet huff. "I'm gonna get outta these damn clothes and put on something more comfortable."

"'Kay," he muttered and nodded again, sounding like he’d swallowed his own tongue.

Once in the bathroom, you pulled off the way too tight top and short skirt in the bathroom, letting yourself breathe for once. That outfit was a real curse; your bra always felt as if it was pushing your tits all the way up to your chin, but it kept the tips flowing, so you kept wearing those clothes.

But tonight? You’d rather die than let Daryl see you in it for too long. Poor boy was already chewing the inside of his mouth and choking on his own words like he might say the wrong thing and die on the spot.

But what you didn't know was that the second you went away to change your clothes, Daryl’s hands started twitching, like his body was on alert between curiosity and unease. A few of your clothes were tossed across the bed, smelling like that bar you worked at—smoke, sweat, and alcohol. It all felt like a place he shouldn’t be at, but here he was, sitting down on your bed and touching your clothes to shove them aside.

He told himself he wasn’t snooping, just trying to figure you out as he sat there nervously. Hell, you were already a mystery to him—a tough girl working in a bar where skirts and shorts barely covered what they ought to and heels high enough to bring any man to his knees.

So here he was, and his mind started running wild, wondering if every woman’s place was like this—half-dirty, with clothes tossed around, magazines piled up, and so much more.

Then his eyes landed on a big box sitting half-shoved under your bed, an open corner poking out like it had been forgotten as his foot bumped against it. He should’ve left it alone, but there was that itch, like he couldn’t look away. Daryl crouched down, sitting down on the floor, his fingers fumbling with the top until it opened up. His eyes went wide, lips parting as he looked inside.

It was filled with... things. Smooth, soft, strange-looking things in different shapes and colors, each one making him more confused than the last.

"What's this stuff?" He whispered, eyes squinting as he picked up a small pink thing with a rounded end. It fit in his hand, smooth but with some weight to it. "This for her... work?" He mumbled, rolling it over in his hand like it might magically turn into something he recognized. Maybe it was a tool, or even one of those weird bar gadgets he didn’t know about.

Another catch of something sparkly and soft shoved down in there made his heart beat faster, and before he knew it, he was pulling out more—the things looking weirder by the second. There was a wand-looking thing, and he held it like it might explode, wondering what the hell you were doing with all this.

"Drugs? Gotta be for drugs," he muttered, frowning as he inspected the box. Could be some kind of injector, maybe? He knew about that stuff—the guys that Merle met sometimes, passing around different things for the good times. But nothing here made sense, and there wasn't any instruction manual in sight.

He looked around like you’d come back any second and catch him, heat burning inside of him as he thought about what this meant. Were you hiding something? Was it… Was it for some kind of secret thing you did when no one was around?

"Damn it, what’re ya up to?" He said, biting his lip, his hand brushing over the surface of the smooth, strange thing, feeling his pulse race at the thought that you did know exactly what these were for.

And yet he didn’t. Not a damn clue.

"Hell’s this?"

He felt a cord between his fingers, pulling it slightly, as if tugging on it might magically make it make sense. Maybe it was for listening to music? But it had no sound, and no little earbuds or anything that he could see.

Setting that one down, he picked up another—an oblong thing with ridges along one side. It looked almost like a flashlight, but there was nowhere for the light to shine from. He pressed his thumb over it, turning it this way and that, but nothing happened.

"What the hell?" It had to be for something specific. You wouldn’t just have random stuff lying around like this for no reason, would you?

Then he found another, rounder one, with a strange little button on the side. He pressed it, flinching a bit when it buzzed all of a sudden. The damn thing nearly jumped out of his hand, and he held it tight to stop the vibrations.

"Damn thing’s possessed," he nearly yelled, feeling his cheeks burn. It felt... weird. Too weird.

And you? You had barely slipped into the bathroom, taking off your work clothes and enjoying the idea of how Daryl would squirm alone for a moment in your bedroom. The way he’d stumbled his way in earlier, not wanting to make eye contact like he didn’t know what to do with his own hands? It was almost way too easy to tease him.

And there he was, practically glowing red, sitting next to the box you kept under the bed. A simple big box—hell, he was behaving so cautiously, like he’d just discovered a bomb or a dead body. But what really caught you was the thing in his hand. A vibrator.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me," you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. His head moved up, eyes wide as if he’d just been caught robbing a bank.

"Shit!" The vibrator fell out of his hand, hitting the floor, but that was only the start; the thing started buzzing further—vibrating across the floor and right toward your feet. Daryl didn’t move; he didn’t even reach for it. He just sat there, staring at the buzzing vibrator like it was going to bite him.

"Gonna tell me what you’re doin’ with my stuff?" You asked, half-amused, half-teasing, waiting to see what half-assed excuse he’d come up with, as you leaned against the door frame. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out at first.

"I… uh—" he stammered, swallowing loudly, his hands fidgeting like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. "I thought… I mean—thought it was, like, stuff for..." His voice trailed off, eyes looking to the ground, too ashamed to meet yours.

"Yeah? Stuff for what?" You pressed further, stepping forward, taking the vibrator and turning it off, stopping the noise but not the look of pure mortification on his face.

"I… thought it might be, y'know... Maybe it was, uh, y’know, things for... for bar stuff, or somethin’. Yer work." His voice was quiet, like he might get in trouble just for saying it out loud.

"For work?" You laughed and crouched down to sit next to him. "Yeah, Daryl, because every bartender needs a vibrator in her kit. So… You wanna tell me why you’re snooping, or am I just supposed to guess?"

You reached over, brushing a hand along the edge of your toy box, taking in the way his eyes tried to look at each item inside. Poor boy had no clue what half of it was for, but he looked at everything like it might burn him.

"Am sorry! I wasn’t… Jus'… waitin’ on ya an' got curious, I guess," he murmured. "Didn’t mean nothin’ by it."

You leaned in closer, enough that he could probably feel your breath on his face. "Curious, huh?" You asked, eyeing the way his shoulders tensed up. "You don't know what that stuff is?"

"Uh…" He blinked, looking between you and the vibrator like it might suddenly start buzzing again. "Not… really. No."

"Oh, you really don’t?" You pretended to be surprised. "It’s a toy, Dixon. A fun toy. For women. And men sometimes as well."

"That for real?" He asked, voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

"As real as it gets, sweetheart. And judging by that look on your face, I’d bet you don’t have much experience with this sorta things." You raised an eyebrow, daring him to admit it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes dropping back to the floor. "Ain’t never… really..." He trailed off, his whole face full of embarrassment.

"Never what?" You asked, leaning in so close you could smell the cigarettes and sweat on him, and somehow, it drove you wild. "Fucked a woman? Or even fucked yourself, huh?"

"I—" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, a sound that told you everything you needed to know. "I don’t… don’t really know… how… t'do any of that."

"Oh, honey." You leaned back a little. "You look like you’re about ready to pass out."

Daryl trembled, trying to look anywhere but at you, his whole face burning. "I—I jus'… I dunno what to do with... all that," he continued, motioning awkwardly toward the box.

You smirked, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. "Guess no one’s shown you how a woman uses one of these before, huh?" You watched his reaction, loving every little deep breath he took and every embarrassed flinch.

"N-no… But what if... maybe they could've been... for, uh, drugs?" His face somehow went even more red, and he looked ready to sink into the floor.

"Drugs? What, you think I’m hiding some kind of dealer setup in my own bedroom? And especially right under my damn bed?" You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Trust me, they’ll get you high, alright—but not the way you’re thinkin’."

The embarrassment on his face was almost painful to watch as he shifted on the ground. "Like I said, I—I don't... Ain’t never done stuff like that before, okay? I—I mean, I done that with myself... sometimes. But not really... okay?"

You smiled, letting your fingers move over his, watching as his breath stopped, his eyes looking up to meet yours for a desperate second. "Well," you murmured, "maybe I could show you a thing or two. If you’re up for it, that is."

Daryl swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he glanced between you and the box again. He indeed looked like he was about to pass out, but he seemed curious—curious in a way that he couldn’t quite hide.

"Oh, c'mon, I know you want to," you whispered, clicking your tongue, standing up, and taking off your shirt slowly. His eyes looked up fast, staring at you, and he shifted on the spot, pressing his thighs together. That’s when you noticed the growing bulge in his pants—it was more than obvious he was already hard as a rock.

"Damn, Dixon," you chuckled, "you’ve got a real problem, don’t you?" You let your shirt fall down to the floor. "Hey, don’t just sit there looking lost—c’mon, no way you're that scared of undressing a woman!"

He stammered something, some half-strangled "n-no," his hands gripping his own thighs like he had to hold himself back from reaching for you. That only spurred you on, raising your brows as you grabbed him to stand up and guiding his trembling hands to the hem of your pants.

"Well, here’s your chance," you smirked, waiting for him to open the button. You watched his fingers fumble with it, shaking as he pulled down the zipper, and then, when he managed to pull your pants down over your hips along with your panties, his eyes widened like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

"Keep goin’, don't be shy," you whispered, guiding his fingers down your thighs until your clothes hit the floor.

He just stood there, staring, mouth opening like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next. You leaned in close, eyes locked on his, before you knelt down again and took the vibrator out of the box once more, pressing the button and letting it hum.

His eyes shot to the toy, watching with pure terror and fascination, and when you pressed it into his hand again, he held it like some foreign, sacred object he was too scared to break.

"Here," you mumbled, laying down onto the bed, legs spread just enough to give him a view he couldn’t tear himself away from even if he tried, before you pulled him next to you and guided his hand between your legs, pressing the vibrator to your thigh and dragging it higher. "Just like that, Daryl. Feels interesting, doesn’t it?"

Daryl could barely breathe, staring down as if hypnotized, the muscles in his whole body tensing up. When you moved his hand to press the vibrator against your pussy, you felt him stiffen, his other hand gripping his thigh to stop himself from trembling. The toy was vibrating against you, and you let out a quiet, satisfied sigh, glancing up just in time to see the way his eyes stayed on you, watching every little twitch and shiver of your body.

"I bet you’re a quick learner," you teased, reaching down to guide his hand again, moving it with the toy so it hit just right, and damn, if it didn’t feel good. His mouth fell open a little, and he sucked in a breath when you suddenly moaned, pressing yourself harder against the vibrator. His hand moved a bit awkwardly, like he didn’t quite know if he was supposed to be touching you this way, but the look in his eyes said he wanted to keep going more than anything.

You let out another moan, a little louder this time, just to see the way he reacted. His grip on the toy tightened, and you didn’t miss the way he was fighting with himself, clearly struggling to keep himself in check as his cock pressed harder against his pants, his breath coming out faster and shorter.

"Poor thing," you whispered, pulling his hand away for a moment, just to watch him struggle. "Bet you’ve never been this hard, huh?" Daryl's eyes looked at you, wide and mortified, like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. But the look he gave you—so desperate, so needy—only made you want to push him further.

"You wanna see what this thing can do to me?" You asked, not giving him time to answer as you pressed the vibrator into his hand again and guided it back between your legs. "Just keep it steady, like that. Right there." You rocked your hips against it, letting out a shaky breath as the lust built itself up inside of you, still watching as he clung to every little sound that left your lips.

Daryl's eyes were glued to you, his mouth open, and you noticed the way he kept moving his hips, trying to get rid of his hard-on. But no matter how much he squirmed, it wasn’t enough. He was near leaking through his pants by now, his cock being so hard he couldn’t think straight, and the sight of you practically coming undone in front of him had him on the edge himself.

"Feels good, doesn’t it, Dixon? But... don't you want to feel that too?" You taunted, moving your fingers along his wrist, pushing him to press harder and the toy just a tiny bit into you, wanting to let him feel every little tremor that wracked your body. He just nodded, lost for words, breathing hard, his eyes moving between your face and the way your hips bucked against his hand.

"Keep going, just like that," you urged, and he obeyed, pressing the vibrator a little harder, his other hand softly brushing against your thigh as if he needed something to hold onto to keep himself from falling apart. His face was so close now, so flushed, eyes wide with need, lips parted as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

"Y’know, Daryl," you moaned, "you’re doing a hell of a job for someone who’s never touched a woman before, not even with toys." His face burned, but he kept going, kept pressing that toy against your pussy, completely mesmerized by the way you reacted.

"You like watching me, don’t you?" You murmured, letting out another moan that left him swallowing hard. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed... that you can’t keep your eyes off me and how damn hard you are."

He tried to come up with a response, something about "I... I didn’t mean to..." but his words trailed off, and he was just there, helpless, utterly at your mercy, his hand tightening on the toy as you let out one last moan that left him breathless and staring, before you snatched the vibrator from him and clicked it off.

The little tremor it left in his hand was nothing compared to the way he stared at you now, still holding onto that last bit of control.

"Think you can do it without help?" You asked, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to your pussy and to make him feel how wet you were, his fingers twitching as they moved along your folds. Daryl nodded but was holding on for dear life and trying not to slip.

"I... I dunno," he mumbled, eyes glued to your pussy.

"Oh, for the love of... here," you growled, placing your hand over his, guiding his touch lower, rougher, until you dragged his fingers exactly where you wanted them. But Daryl was a mess, barely holding himself together, his other hand still clamped over that hard bulge in his pants as he lay there beside you.

"Now, watch closely," you instructed, pressing his fingers just the way you liked it. "Doesn’t take much, does it?" You smiled, letting your free hand move down his chest, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. "Bet you’d come just feeling me touch you."

He whimpered, the outline of his cock pulsing through his pants, a wet spot already forming itself. It didn’t take much to notice the hesitation in his every move, making him so easy to toy with.

You leaned back a little, pushing your tits forward. "Go on and position yourself over me," you dared, and as soon as he did, you lifted his other hand from his bulge to your tits, watching as he sucked in a breath, his hand shaking as if he were holding something he had no right to touch. "Ever felt these before?"

Daryl shook his head, still wide-eyed, his eyes looking into yours for a second before dropping back down, like he was afraid to look too long.

"Then make the most of it." You reached down, pressing his other hand harder against you. "I want you to use that mouth of yours now," you smirked, pushing him down to press his lips against your nipples. His breath was warm and shaky, and he hesitated, his mouth just an inch away from you. You raised an eyebrow, daring him, and after a long, deep breath, he finally leaned in.

"That's a good boy," you praised, your fingers running through his hair, feeling him shiver under your touch. He was so damn easy to play with, each little whimper and moan only turning you on more, urging him to suck and lick, his tongue slow but eager, desperate for more.

"Gently," you ordered, glancing down to see him lose himself, his hands now touching you like he didn’t want to let go. The poor guy was panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucked and kissed your nipple, as if the sight alone would push him over the edge.

You soon moved your hand down, feeling the outline of his cock through his pants, feeling him flinch, his breath stopping as you gave him just a bit of what he wanted. "This what you want, Daryl?" You whispered, teasing him and squeezing his shaft just enough to make him groan, his hips bucking, desperate for more. "You do, don't you? But now, I want you to eat me out."

Daryl couldn’t even get out a response, his mouth still on your nipple, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

"Pathetic, but also really cute," you laughed, unzipping his pants just enough to reach inside, your fingers wrapping around his cock and making him gasp, his whole body tensing as you squeezed him. He was thick, hard, already wet from the pre-cum that leaked from his tip, and the way he moaned, quite high, only made you want to drag it out and tease him until he was begging to come.

As you quickly positioned yourself over his face, you could see how he was a nervous wreck the moment your ass hovered above him. "Oh, please, don’t just lay there. Get to work," you teased, lowering yourself down, your pussy brushing against his lips.

When he finally opened his mouth, it was like you flipped a switch. The moment your folds hit his tongue, he moaned, the sound muffled against you. It sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but grind against his face, pushing him harder against you.

"God, you’re a natural," you gasped, encouraging him with your hips. "Just like that, baby. Don’t be shy; use your tongue."

Daryl’s mouth worked hesitantly at first, but the more you ground down, the more confident he became. His face was buried in your pussy, the taste of you driving him wild as he licked and sucked, trying to figure out what made you feel good, and the way he looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and lust, only made you want to ride his face harder.

"Yeah, keep going," you panted, feeling your legs tremble as he finally got into a rhythm. "Good boy, just like that," you moaned, feeling the tension building inside you. He was so focused, so eager to please, and the way he hungrily licked and sucked made you see stars.

"Don’t stop, Daryl. I’m so close," you urged. "Yeah, that’s it," you moaned, pushing your hips down even harder. "Don’t you dare stop. Just like that—yes!"

The way he held your thighs, trying to hold you against him, and the way he whimpered against you—those sweet little sounds pushed you right over. "I’m cumming! Fuck!"

Your body tensed, and you ground down harder again, shaking and feeling him groan against your dripping pussy as you let go and came, completely lost in the moment.

You felt him drink it all in, and you knew he was just as lost as you were. The second you pushed yourself off his face and watched him, face red and lips parted, you could tell Daryl had no idea what to do with himself. Wide-eyed and panting, he lay there as if you’d just dragged him straight into some fever dream he wasn’t even ready for. He seemed so helpless as he tried to piece together the storm of feelings that’d just hit him.

"Still with me, Daryl?" You asked, letting your weight push him further into the bed. His eyes looked down between your legs, then looked away, like he didn’t have the courage to watch.

"Y-yeah…"

He shuddered, that helpless little whine slipping out as you leaned down, your mouth right over his. He was as stiff as a board beneath you, looking both horrified and desperately curious at the same time.

"Think you can handle more of this?" You whispered, one hand moving down and wrapping around his cock as you took it fully out of his pants.

"W-wait," he stammered, trying to close his legs in a last attempt to get some space, but you only held him tighter, giving his cock a slow, teasing stroke. It twitched in your hand, leaking all over your fingers like he couldn’t stop himself.

"Sweetie, look at you," you smiled, swirling a finger over the tip, just to watch him jerk, hips lifting up like he was begging. "So needy aren't we?"

Daryl let out another whimper, his face going beet-red, those shy eyes looking away once more as though if he didn’t look at you, he’d somehow be less mortified.

"Feels so good, huh?"

His whole body was practically trembling with need, and he was leaking—a lot. His cock throbbed in your hand, pre-cum dripping so much it smeared along your fingers.

"Damn, Daryl," you whispered, smirking as your fingers now teased along the underside of his cock. "Didn’t know you’d be this easy, really."

You soon leaned down, your mouth just over his cock; the slightest lick of your tongue along his tip pushed another bit of pre-cum out, and you couldn’t help but laugh, loving every bit of his need.

"Baby, look at you, leaking everywhere," you teased again, wiping the tip with your thumb before bringing it to your lips, licking off the taste. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly before leaning up to kiss him, letting him taste himself on your lips.

It made him moan again, his hands reaching out to grip your body as if needing to ground himself. "P-please…" He whispered, but you didn’t give in just yet.

Instead, you reached down, grabbing your vibrator again. You saw the way his eyes narrowed, with pure nervousness all over his face, as you suddenly pressed the toy to his cock, starting at the lowest setting. The buzzing made him gasp, his hips jerking involuntarily against you as you dragged the vibrator along his shaft, right along that sensitive spot just under the head. Every time it brushed up and down, he leaked more against your hand, only making it messier.

"Oh s-shit…" He whimpered, sounding utterly wrecked.

With a smirk, you leaned back and held up the vibrator for him to see, his eyes following it, dazed, and lips parted. "I think that’s enough; otherwise you might explode on the spot," you said, watching his expression drop just slightly as he looked at you switching it off and tossing it back into your toy box all of a sudden.

Leaning up, you gave his lips a slow, lazy kiss, feeling him melt against you, even more needy when you pulled away and slipped back down. And damn if he didn’t start leaking more, a fresh drop of slick pre-cum glistening right there, just begging to be tasted.

"How sweet you are, Daryl," you murmured, slowly moving your tongue along the underside of his cock, not missing the way his hips jerked up instinctively, even though he didn't seem to understand why. One gentle lick. That’s all it took for him to be close again, and he was helpless against it.

"Just relax and enjoy it," you continued, letting your tongue move along the tip of his cock and the desperate little gasp of his driving you wild as he grabbed the sheets, practically sobbing as he tried to hold back.

You wrapped your lips around just the head, barely enough to count as anything. But to him? It was like fireworks going off.

"N-no, I—oh fuck, I can’t—" He breathed out as his head fell back, his body shivering under you.

And when you took him just that tiny bit deeper, that was it—he lost it. Hard. He tried to hold it, tried to push you back even, one hand weakly pressing against your head, but he was already too far gone. The orgasm tore through Daryl, overpowering him completely.

His whole body stiffened, a helpless cry coming from his throat as he finally lost it, filling your mouth with his cum as he came. Before he even had time to process it, you’d swallowed every last drop from his throbbing cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked back up at him.

He was still shaking, his mind clearly blown, and when he finally managed to look at you, it was with that same wide-eyed shock.

Daryl just lay there, still in shock, his body trembling as reality sank in. "D-did ya really jus'—" His voice cracked with disbelief all over his face as he tried to wrap his head around what just happened.

You smirked at him, leaning in close, your lips moving softly against his in a teasing kiss. "What’s the matter, sweet boy? Never had someone swallow your cum before?"

He quickly shook his head. "I—I thought ya might get pregnan' or somethin'!" He stammered in embarrassment, his mind racing with the wildest thoughts.

"Oh, cutie. You really think it’s that easy? I'm sorry, but that's not how it works," you laughed, nudging his arm, enjoying the way his shoulders tensed up like he was trying to hide from you. "What? Can’t even look me in the eye after that?"

He opened his mouth, but whatever words he thought he might stammer out just died right there, and his hand went up to scratch the back of his neck.

"I... I didn’ mean to..." he finally managed to say, his voice cracking in the middle, his face still as red as a tomato.

You raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t mean to what? Coming in record time?" You let out a sarcastic scoff, and he near cried, ducking his head as though it would save him.

"I-I dunno, I thought... I jus', I mean—" he stumbled over each word. "Jus' ain’t never been with... y’know, anyone... like that."

"No kidding," you replied dryly, watching him shrink even smaller, if that was possible. "Anyone coulda guessed that, by the way, you freaked the hell out." He winced at your words, but hell, it just made him look all the more adorable, laying there.

When you placed a hand on his thigh, he went stiff as a board all over. "Easy, Daryl," you murmured. "No one’s laughing at you... much."

"I-I’m... sorry," he mumbled again.

"Sorry?" You scoffed, tilting his chin up to force his eyes to look at you. "For what? That you came too soon, or that you actually loved it?"

He tried to look away, but your fingers held him in place. "Both, I reckon," he answered, his voice shaking. It was like he thought he’d done something wrong, like he needed to apologize for being human.

"Nothing wrong with it, Dixon. Means I sure as hell did it right." You laughed, running a thumb over his jawline as he stared back at you.

"Bet that head of yours is just spinning right now, ain’t it?" You said, half-mocking. "Poor, sweet Daryl, don’t know what to do with himself now."

It was easy to see what he still needed—what he wanted, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You didn’t have to guess, though. He was desperate for something more, desperate for you to just tell him what to do. It was obvious that he had no experience with women or anything like this, but it didn’t matter to you. If anything, it just made it better. You wanted him nervous.

"Hey," you said softly. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not at all." You could see that he wanted to apologize again, wanting to make up for how pathetic he felt.

"Tell you what," you said, kissing his cheek. "You’ve got a lot to learn, Daryl Dixon. But I think you’re gonna like it. You just need to stop worrying." His hands moved to your waist, but they were hesitant, unsure. "And me? Well, I’m not here to judge you."

You took his hands and placed them back on your body, guiding him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate much, but it seemed as if he was trying to copy the way you had guided him earlier, trying to find some way to make up for what had happened. But that, for now, was enough.

"Don’t worry," you said, grinning at him, "I’m going to teach you."

Because you would. And he had no choice. Maybe that was what you liked most. The way Daryl needed you now, the way he didn’t even know what he wanted, but he was willing to follow you with your help along the way.

And he was only going to fall deeper.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema — (also tagging @darylsdelts as requested)

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