#regardless... pleased with how this spread came out!

[essenceofarda]

Lil Celebrian sketchbook spread ♥️��️

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[coralinnii]

‧₊˚✧ Welcome to the Family‧₊˚✧ 

↳ Getting Culture Shock from Your Friendly Family

feat: Sebek ❋ Silver ❋ Malleus genre: fluff, note: no pronouns were used for reader, established relationships, TWST characters’ age are canon-accurate (so no underage drinking), 

So... I sort of misinterpreted a request and there's just too much to change so I'm gonna have to redraft an entire writing post. But, I felt like it'd be a waste to delete this so I hope you enjoy this random plot.

The culture shock hit the fae the moment your boisterous family opened the doors with bright smiles and excited cheers. 

“You must be Sebek! Come in, come in!” 

Word must have spread because not only your parents, but Sebek ended up being introduced to your aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, grand-aunts and uncles who were visiting your parents that day. Apparently, your extended family tree was ‘coincidentally’ in the area and wanted to drop by to see the man you brought home. 

A simple lunch plan became an all-out buffet with your family pulling out the extra chairs and plates. Sebek insisted on helping with the heavy lifting which your parents adamantly refused. 

“A guest doesn’t do anything!” “That’s right, just relax and have a drink!” 

“Dad, he’s 16.” 

Sebek was in slight awe of the power your human family possessed, not really physical power but rather their charismatic aura that he couldn’t fight against. Sebek came from a good home as well, but this feeling of intimacy and acceptance from a group of humans that owes him no such hospitality is new to him.

It was as if he was reduced to a pampered child and any responsibility or obligation, he had was taken off his shoulders. 

Once the table was set, Sebek’s vision was overcome by a whirlwind of hands, utensils, and food. Without lifting a finger, the green-haired guest had a mountain of food piled up on his large plate. It was a cuisine unlike the Briar Valley’s food he was familiar with, but the aroma was too tempting to ignore. 

The house was full of loud chatter and laughter that brought a sense of homely warmth to Sebek.

Sebek came from a good home as well, but this feeling of intimacy and acceptance from a group of humans that owes him no such hospitality is new to him.

This feeling of being swept away by your family was… strange but not unpleasant.

"So, how are you keeping up with my family?” You cheekily questioned the tall young man, finally alone as the two of you hid in the sanctuary that was your bedroom. 

After lunch, the little ones in the family were taking advantage of your boyfriend’s trained body as they climbed and swung on him like a jungle gym. Of course, you trusted Sebek as he kept his stance and never once did he drop or falter while the children played to their heart’s content. 

“Hmph, as if a bunch of humans could ever be a challenge for a knight such as myself.” Sebek huffed with all his bravado, but you see the gel in his hair slightly wearing off from sweat. 

You smiled regardless. “That’s good, then. I’m honestly surprised that you're so good with kids.” 

The green-haired man smirked with confidence. “Of course, I would not be so easily taken down by such a puny number of opponents.” 

“Please don’t call my cousins your opponents.” 

Sebek straightened his back as he puffed up his chest. “I am personally impressed that your family are not deterred by me, since not many can handle someone of proud fae blood such as myself!” 

You hummed humorously at him. You knew behind those arrogant words, you knew that he was actually nervous about your family being put off by him, be it for his heritage or his abrasive personality. You even swore that his hair seemed a little more gelled up than usual, hoping to look good in front of your family. 

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around Sebek’s broad shoulders, with Sebek instinctively stiffening from your touch. “My family loves you because they can see what I see. Who do you think raised me?” 

Sebek relaxed and turned his head to meet your eyes. His softened eyes reflected in yours as his hidden worries dissipated from your words. 

Both of you felt a mutual pull towards each other, lips leaning ever close to touch- 

Knock Knock 

Sebek well nearly flung you to the other side of your room in panic, his face burning with embarrassment while your face expressed more shock and a little indignation. 

“Mom and auntie said there’s snacks, so come down.” A tiny carefree voice came through the door before footsteps walking away followed after. 

Maybe Sebek was right. Your cousins were opponents, indeed. 

The moment you and Silver step foot into your family home, you weren’t sure who’s the guest and who’s the actual family member anymore. 

Silver was pulled to the center of the sofa with your family crowding him, cooing and praising the handsome man. 

“Such soft hair, you take good care of yourself!” 

“Not only that, you have a strong body too. You must eat well, that’s good.” 

He’s not your boyfriend, he’s our future son-in-law

Silver is fairly used to this kind of energy thanks to a certain easygoing fae but he does internally heave a sigh of relief that your family seem welcoming of him. Being a human from a primarily fae kingdom, he wasn’t sure how he would come across to other humans.

If you ever worry about the potential gawkers Silver would attract with his good looks and personality, imagine that…but with your very own blood-bonded family. 

You and your family had to suppress your bubbling laughter as you watched your little siblings' eyes sparkle at the prince-like young man you brought home. They quickly latched onto the confused knight-in-training, chubby hands either gripping the leg of his pants or raised up high asking for a hug.

“Should I up my game so I won’t lose my only boyfriend?” 

You finally couldn’t stop yourself from laughing when said boyfriend asserted with such a convicted expression that he would never stray from you. 

Finally, you and Silver had a moment to yourself…or at least one as close as you can get while your little siblings run amok at the park nearby. While the adults were cooking up a storm back home, the children wanted to play outside which led you and your boyfriend on babysitting duty. 

“So…” you started the conversation while the two of you leisurely sat under the shade of a hefty tree. “How are you feeling? I know my family can get a little…much.” 

“They remind me of Father in many ways.” Even with some drowsiness in his voice, Silver replied without hesitation. “It was almost like being in a room with multiple versions of him.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

The fair man looked over to the park where your siblings were yelling and running without a care in a world. He knew they could feel so carefree because they have you watching over them and have a whole room full of people waiting for them with a warm, hearty meal. 

Never alone, never unloved. A big, joyful family.

And these loving people readily welcomed him, a child with mysterious origins and an unfamiliar upbringing. Silver didn't want to come off as unapproachable or disrespectful due to his quiet demeanor, but your family was unaffected in the least and accepted him with open arms.

Silver smiled at you like a man blessed by the heavens. “It’s wonderful. I never thought my life could feel even brighter and warmer than it already is.” 

You smiled back, warmth filling your heart after hearing the man you love equally cherishing the people precious to you.

Perhaps Silver’s sleepiness has rubbed off on you as you felt compelled to rest your head on his side, with Silver immediately laying his head atop of yours.

“Next time, let’s invite Lilia too.” A quick look of panic was shared between you two. “He’s not allowed in the kitchen, though.” 

“Agreed.” 

Malleus, a being of pure fae blood, was the most clueless of what to expect at a human gathering which led to a multitude of questions regarding human customs. It was rather adorable to watch this imposing figure pace back and forth over the most minor of concerns. 

“What is the customary gift to offer your family as a greeting?” 

“I don’t know, wanna try gold bars? Haha…wait Malleus don’t actually-!” 

After calming your boyfriend's nerves, the two of you finally reached your home where your family were excitedly waiting for you and the man you brought.

Of course your family is impressed by the magnificent figure that was Malleus and the inhuman features that the fae worried over were instead adored and admired. 

“His horns look strong but shiny, so sleek.” 

“Such a tall, handsome man! A little skinny, but very healthy and that’s what matters.” 

Mayhap, this lack of fear of yours is an inherited trait.  

Soon, compliments turned to gifts as your family bombarded Malleus (and by extension you, I guess) with things around the house that they think kids your age would like. Free prizes they’ve won, treats the family bought too many of, presents given by other relatives or friends…everything was suddenly in his hands and lap. 

It was almost entertaining watching your boyfriend, who could literally acquire any materialistic goods he could want for, get overwhelmed by all the gifts and trinkets that he could barely carry in his arms.

“Just be grateful, Malleus. At least they hadn’t given shopping bags filled with those dried fruit snacks you mentioned were good yet.”

A sense of calm and peace finally came over your household. Well, your family’s version of calm at least, which is everyone sitting around the living room, chatting while watching a melodrama with that attractive actor your grandmother likes. 

Imagine the confusion and slight concern on Malleus’s face as your mother tried to explain the plot of the whole series. 

“Is he not aware of how his mother is treating his paramour? How can he let this be?” 

“Malleus sweetie, he’s been in the hospital this whole time because of that car accident with his half-brother. That’s why the mother is trying to get rid of the girl before he wakes!” 

You chuckled at the scene of your sweet boyfriend giving his full attention to your mother’s passionate venting, but a pang of anxiety pricked you. 

Your family can be quite boisterous and forward, even by typical human family standards. You never wanted to pry into Malleus’s personal life but you can’t imagine any noble fae behaving like your family do. You are by no means embarrassed by your family, but you’d hate the idea that Malleus was feeling uncomfortable but far too courteous to speak out.

Gently, you called Malleus’s attention with a subtle touch atop his hand. When he turned to you, you motioned him to lean down to whisper into his ear. “If we get too loud, you can excuse yourself. I can cover for you.” 

Malleus felt aghast by your words. Was he giving off any signs of dissatisfaction? That was not his intention at all. 

Yes, your family is unlike most families the young fae heir have encountered. In fact, they are unlike most people he has encountered in general. No one would be brave enough to crowd him so freely, to pull one of the strongest mages of their time around to their whim. 

In contrast to the large, silent halls of his throne room in his castle, Malleus found himself nearly squished into a couch with someone at every direction while chatter filled this comparatively small home. 

How delightful this has been for him to be a part of this lovely family.

Hoping to convey his sincerest thoughts, Malleus encompasses your hand in his, whispering softly to you. 

“I’m enjoying myself, truly.” 

Your mother suddenly perked up, looking away from her phone she was typing away on. “Oh, honey! My friend group is planning on a road trip to this cute retreat. Would you and Malleus want to join us?” 

“Are you…inviting me?” 

If Malleus’s tail was visible right now, do you think you’d see it wagging excitedly?

[anathemaspeaks]

chocolate

character(s): toji fushiguro synopsis: you accidentally eat an aphrodisiac, but you definitely don't regret it. word count: 1.1k warning(s): smut a/n: i need him SO BAD inspired by this fic by the amazing @tonycries <3

this was a prank. it had to be. you stared at the empty black chocolate wrapper in front of you in horror. the bold, golden letters on the wrapper seemingly mocking your current predicament. 'making bedroom adventures sweeter since 1992' written in a sickeningly bold cursive font under the brand name.

once your initial surprise wore off, you realized you actually felt quite... normal. you had just eaten an aphrodisiac for the first time, after all. even if it was accidentally. but you felt pretty okay, so you decided to get back to work since your lunch break was over.

just as you were about to start working, your phone rang, showing your wallpaper of your drop dead gorgeous boyfriend toji. still, nothing was happening. there was absolutely no change in how you felt.

until you heard his voice.

"hey doll, you eat yet?"

and just like that, you melted at the thought of him.

your hands on his sculpted abs, teasingly moving lower. him whispering praises on how you're being such a good girl for him, how pretty you look right now. how he lifts his arm to fix his hair, unintentionally flexing his bicep to-

"babe, you there?"

"toji!" your voice came out much breathier than you anticipated. you were suddenly made very aware of how you'd soaked straight through your panties just by hearing his voice. you told him you'd be coming home early today and ended the call quickly.

when you entered your house, you found a naively confused looking toji sitting on the sofa. you would've explained the situation to him, but the only thought in your mind after seeing him sitting there looking so positively delicious, was having his fat cock inside you, making you cum over and over until you couldn't walk for a week.

you practically ripped your clothes off the moment you shut the door behind you.

"well i'm not complainin' doll, but what's goin' on?" toji questioned, his hungry eyes practically devouring you regardless.

you didn't even give him an answer. instead, you walked over to him and straddled his lap, and kissed him. you kissed him again, and again because fuck, he just felt so good against you. so warm, so right, so fucking big.

when you finally pulled away for air, all you could let out was a whiny "need you, toji." you kissed him again, harder this time. then his hands were everywhere, his touch alone lighting your skin on fire. he was holding the back of your neck, and then his hands were on your waist. every touch of his was driving you crazy, the heat inside you only growing, especially as his hand moved to squeeze your ass.

with that, you lost any semblance of self control you might've had before. you broke the kiss and tugged his hair, guiding his lips to your neck. you practically ripped his shirt off. a primal, raw instinct taking over you now. you slowly started grinding on his thigh, moans spilling out from your mouth uncontrollably. you could hardly think with the way his muscular thigh felt against you.

your bare cunt was rubbing against the denim of his jeans, which were already soaking wet because of you. the material rubbing against and catching your clit just right. his hands were on your ass, squeezing and caressing it while guiding you. his mouth sucking your tits, occasionally leaving hickeys on your neck as little whines escaped your pretty lips.

and just like that you're so close, that sweet relief feels so near. "toji please i'm so-" and you cum all over his pants before you can finish your sentence. he kisses you while still guiding you with his hands still on your ass, not letting you slow down. but you're still horny as ever. you get off his lap and help him take off his jeans and boxers, then you drop to your knees in between his spread legs.

oh fuck. he wasn't making it out of this alive.

you start by licking a small stripe up his painfully hard, slightly red and leaky cock. then you slowly take his flushed, hot tip inside your mouth, licking it almost teasingly. and then, within a second, you have his whole cock inside your mouth, tip almost touching the back of your throat with your cheeks hollowed out as you felt every vein running up his length, your saliva spreading on his cock as he fucked your throat relentlessly. "fuck you're such a good girl, shit" "mm, i know you can take all of it, my good little slut"

his cock was so big you had tears in your eyes trying to deepthroat it, but you couldn't stop, not when he looked like that. one hand on the back of your head, guiding you, with the other one in his hair, causing him to flex his bicep. his abs glistening with the light sheen of sweat that had formed, the salty taste of his precum in your mouth so addictive.

his flushed cheeks and closed eyes that would occasionally open to look down at you. his mouth, which was open and saying the filthiest of things to you, cursing and groaning every other second, panting from how good you were taking him, how deep he was.

you couldn't wait any longer, you were nearly dripping onto the floor.

you stood up and leaned down to kiss him, tugging on his hair. "need you, toji" you whined. "need me where, princess?" god, he was such a tease. but you were impatient. so you allowed yourself to sink down onto his length with no warning, bottoming out in a singular thrust as he throws his head back, eyes rolling into the back of his head with a broken moan of your name.

shit, you were gonna be the death of him.

you were so wet you could cum from that alone, but you needed more, more, more. you've been on top before, but never like this. you were insatiable, riding him like there was no tomorrow. the lewd sound of his cock going in and out of you, the feeling of being so full and stretched out so well, him whispering dirty praises into your ears, the timbre of his voice when he moaned, it was too much.

you couldn’t hold it in even if you tried, cumming all over his cock. he finished inside you a few seconds later, holding your hips down and in place to keep you from squirming as he filled you up, hips stuttering with his broken whines of your name, his warm cum dripping out of your ravaged pussy.

you didn’t stop there, though. you continued riding him, the only thought on your mind being toji. his current state only turned you on even more. completely lost in the feeling of you, so drunk on your pussy, a whimpering mess all for you.

you placed your lips on his again, wanting nothing more than to taste him. he couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore. he was high on the feeling of your warm pussy fluttering around his fat cock, forming a sticky, creamy ring at the base as you continued. he was moaning so loud you were sure the neighbors heard you.

the overstimulation paired with your hands tugging on his hair as his mouth fell permanently open, practically drooling over you, with his hands squeezing your ass, and the view through his half lidded eyes of your tits bouncing so perfectly as you rode him were just too much for him.

the oversensitivity made you both cum again, filthy moans escaping the both of you. yet, you still didn’t stop. toji felt like he might pass out, but fuck, it felt so amazing. at this point, he knew it wouldn’t be over until one of you had blacked out. and he loved every goddamn second of it.

toji, despite having way more stamina than you, blacked out first - you were insatiable. that chocolate was the only thing keeping you going for longer than your greek god of a man. god, you'd never felt so fucked out. you both wake up on the sofa, your naked body on top of his. you woke up to find him already smirking down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “toji?” you questioned. “yeah, i'm definitely giving you those again.” he said with a grin.

then it clicked. that little shit had replaced your chocolate on purpose. “TOJI FUSHIGURO-”

likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated! requests are open <3

[wyniepooh]

Protect

Logan protects you, in the only way he knows how.

bodyguard!logan x reader. just assume that reader is some high profile public figure lol. mentions of smoking. use of the nickname ‘kid’.

you could no longer feel the expression on your face.

It was only when you passed by a window— an awfully tall glass panel with an elaborate gilded frame— did you notice that the pleasant smile that had donned your face for the entire evening was finally beginning to falter.

a flash and click of a camera went off behind you, and through the reflection of the window, you could see a reporter walking eagerly towards you. you quickly swiveled in the opposite direction, hands grasped onto the front of your long gown as your feet guided your body towards a dark and isolated corridor.

but, you weren’t scared or alarmed in the slightest at the empty and unexplored room you were entering. because you knew that wherever you went, he was right behind.

after endless fidgeting with the hatch on a pair of doors, you could only sigh in relief when it finally opened. you stepped out into the balcony, sighing as you felt the abundance of fresh air fall over you.

your silent lonesome didn’t last. before long— just like you had suspected— a quiet, but familiar pair of footsteps trailed out from behind.

“I’m fine, logan. I just needed some air,” you turned your head slightly to the side. “you don’t need to follow me everywhere.”

he aligned himself beside you, arms clasped together behind his back. “Actually, I do. according to the contract I signed with your father, you require 24-hour supervision-“

“Please, enough,” you cut off, head fully turned to face him as you felt a warm teardrop drip down your cheek. you could see the rapid rise of your own chest, the consistent motion getting faster and more panicked by the second. you gripped the metal railing of the balcony and closed your eyes, hoping the cold sting would distract from the embarrassment.

when you opened your eyes again, logan seemed to be standing closer than before. his previous— and usual— stern expression was long gone, replaced by one of genuine empathy.

His softened brows twitched. you watched as his hand slowly reached up towards your face, arm pausing for just a second before a pointer finger extended gently to your cheek. You looked away as the wetness spread across your flushed face, and when you heard the parting of his lips, you turned your head and swatted his wrist away.

you spun towards the sky, looking at no star in particular, but focused on the scattered beads in the nightfall regardless. All was completely silent and still for a minute, which provided just enough time for you to slow your breathing and dab away at the mascara you were sure had traveled down your face.

You had just made a decision in your head to leave and return to the spectacle when you heard the muted click of a lighter. you smelled the tobacco before you saw it, and when you did, nothing but a scoff could escape you.

“I- I don’t think you’re allowed to do that here.”

he shrugged, and simply took an experienced drag of the cigar in response. He leaned a little closer to you, supporting his weight on the balcony railing as he raised the lit object up to your face. “who’s here to stop me? Or you, for that matter?”

You laughed dryly, crossing your arms as you asked, “are you seriously offering me a cigar? I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

He bounced his arm in suggestion of the cuban again and muttered, “kid, this is me protecting you.”

your smile faded away as you took in his words, and after a long second, your hand came up to reach for the cigar. but before your fingers could hook around the shaft, Logan opened his mouth and moved his arm away.

“ah— slow down. i still have a job to do. It’s my obligation to at least teach you how to smoke it first, so you don’t puke all over the prime minister or something. Plus,” he bent his head in, lips angled towards your ear, “if you’re not holding it and you get caught, you can talk your way out of it.”

he retracted his head, raising his eyebrows as he took one last puff and switched the direction of the cigar to face you. “Don’t be shy, kid. Just put your mouth around it.”

You followed his instruction with skepticism, delicately wrapping your lips around the brown paper of the cigar with your eyes down. With a mouthful of tobacco smoke, you looked up from your downward gaze, and as your eyes connected with his hazel glare, logan’s proud smirk seemed to falter for just a second; the corners of his mouth dropped, and his lips parted for a minute too long before he spoke.

“Just… don’t inhale into your lungs like you would a cheap cigarette,” he whispers, “you’re meant to enjoy it.”

You exhaled, clearing your throat as you watched the smoke dissipate into the dark background of the sky. “enjoy what?”

You notice the hesitancy in his response, his arm pausing half-way to his face as his eyes flicker to the imprint of your lipstick on the stick. finally, he puts his mouth on top of the red stain, takes a puff, and breathes, “the taste.”

The moonlight reflected off of his slicked back hair, and it looked like a star or two were dancing around in his eye. It was only now did you see the prominence of his wrinkles and the grey in his beard that you had never noticed before.

you don’t know why you stayed silent. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything to talk about— your very recent breakdown provided obvious proof that you needed to talk. And if there was anyone you could and wanted to talk to, it had to be logan.

You broke the silence first. “So, why’d you take this job anyways?”

he chuckled. “Honestly, I’d like to say some sappy bullshit like ‘i love helping others’ but,” he purses his lips, “I’m afraid you’d find the real reason quite selfish,” he responds.

You laugh. “So, for the money?”

“Something like that.”

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know anyone else who’d know exactly what to do when I’m freaking out, even if it’s by giving me a cigar at an event where reporters are swarming everywhere.”

He smiles, a lopsided one that only further emphasizes his wrinkles hidden within his beard. “I’m glad you consider me as a friend.”

You remained quiet. After a windy moment, you stepped closer to where he was leaning against the metal railing. You grabbed his wrist which contained the still-lit cigar, and turned your back towards his chest to take a hit. You look back to him, blowing the smoke into his face.

“a friend, right.”

now it was his turn to be silent, eyes frantically scanning over your face before lowering down to the hand around his wrist. His gaze jumps back to your eyes, a fog of something indistinguishable knitted between his brows.

“you know, I don’t really taste anything special. Just smokey.” you turned, pressing your chest against his as a casual hand toyed with the edge of his shirt collar. There was no space between the two of you, and yet there was no resistance, from either side, to step back and separate. “What’s it supposed to taste like?”

He tilted his head. “a little earthy. nutty,” his unoccupied hand fell upon the small of your back. “sweet.”

you couldn’t tell if he had more to say, but if he did, his words were all swallowed up by your lips on his. The hand on your waist tightly squeezed, pulling you flush onto him until the two of you were on the edge of practically falling over the balcony. both of your hands curled tightly around his gelled hair, tugging harshly as you silently gasped against his mouth.

the desperate roughness of his teeth scraped against your lip, and your respective chests rose up and down in synch with one another before he pulled back, his free hand coming up to caress the side of your hair.

“I’m supposed to protect you, kid,” he panted.

your fingers lingered over his chin, nails scratching at his overgrown stubble. You pleaded, “Logan, please, i’ve never felt so safe.”

you felt a sudden rush of coldness as Logan turns his head away. “I lied, you know. I didn’t exactly take this job just for the money. Your dad pays well, of course, but, that’s not why I stayed.”

He turns back, the star-splattered sparkle still twinkling in his eye as he mumbles, “you’re the selfish reason, sweetheart. you always have been.”

you pulled his forehead to yours, arms crossed around his neck to bring his warmth even closer. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty.

“Logan,” was all you muttered, and it was all it took before a low growl escaped through his chest and he drew your face in firmly by your chin.

You heard the faint drop of the half-gone cigar on the ground, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You tasted the sweetness on his tongue, just fine.

-

a/n: logan was canonically a bodyguard and I feel like we writers need to take more advantage of that fact

[anantaru]

thoughts jealous genshin boys?

including. scaramouche, lyney

cw. jealous syx, fem! reader

— ꒰ SCARAMOUCHE ꒱

it's evident in his eyes, indigo mist manifesting to the shade of need and anger— and so of course, you instantly catch it, regardless of scaramouche desperate attempts to keep his bothersome jealousy hidden from you, even though it secretly turned you on.

because it showed that he cared, in a way, and a perception of lust takes a hold of your trembling frame, his chest being pressed so close against your own that you can vividly feel just how fast the beat of his heart was racing for you.

truly it aggravated him, when he sees how someone was able to make you laugh just like that, when in reality it should only be him you're gifting your sweet attention to, no other person in this broken world should even blink near you, breathe near you or stand near you if it was for scaramouche personally— who now was working his hips in between your legs, a harsh gasp rattling through his clenched jaw as he keeps on telling you to fucking keep your thighs spread apart for him, okay? so he angrily spit on your cunt.

even like this, while you're brimming full of the racing pressure on your wet cunt being repeatedly stuffed by his shaft, the smacks of his hips loud and echoing, his pace almost too rough for its own good as you simply cannot help yourself but admire your boyfriend's outstanding beauty and soft features, which were radiantly glowing even stronger whenever he was a little angry at you, or jealous for that particular matter.

it's cute, really, you have to admit— seeing him like that while being out of breath with a sheen layer of sweat holding together the bangs on his forehead, his psyche all concentrated on pleasing you as good as he could, almost as if he was scared of losing you— and it's because he thrusts so deep that your tits bounce back and forth, his hot breath sticking on your glossy lips when he roughly fucks his cock in and out your warm hole spreading so nicely for him, reaching all those places that only scaramouche was able to reach.

— ꒰ LYNEY ꒱

it's almost disgusting and surreal how fast lyney could switch his mind into something else when it came to his love for you— and of course, he loves you, a sickly sweet love that would forevermore run through his bloodstream and soothe his mind, in fact, just looking at you could make the man bend to your every will.

well, only when you're behaving that is, when you aren't looking for ways to practically piss him off until he has you draped against a desk with his head tightly shut between your rattling thighs, noticing how you're instantly arching your back into his mouth and reveling at each and every new stroke of his arousal-drenched tongue littering across your velvet walls.

if only you were nice tonight, lyney would definitely had made you cum at least twice, in fact, he would always put your pleasure first because he was a good boyfriend, a perfect one if being honest for a second— so for you to just make him jealous like that, you meanie! giggling enthusiastically at a person you barely know while holding their gaze through your dazzling eyes.

no, don't even go there, don't just assume lyney is making stuff up in his mind— he would never let this happen, but punishing you with his tongue and rutting it across your drenched hole was always a delicious meal on its own, a sticky one at that until his rosy cheeks and chin were aglow of arousal and messed up of your gooey slick.

your thighs were now, shaking viciously as you're forced to take it all with your hips twitching when you grind your cunt against his mouth, taking the rough and precise brushes of warm tongue like a good girl as it easily dug past the flesh of your folds until lyney hits your sensitive clit with the tip of his wet muscle, circling over the bundle of nerves— his focused brain catching on to every single detail of your lewd whimpers, electric twitches and sensitive turns, or the way your precious thighs would clamp up around his head even more, while most importantly, how your glazed eyes would suddenly collect warm crystallines on your lashes.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lyssaluvs]

Just Play the Part

(Luke Castellan x Fem!Dionysus!Reader)

Summary: A makeover from Silena and the Aphrodite girls gives you the confidence boost you need.

A/N: this took me so bloody long it's borderline embarrassing. also luke is so out of character it almost makes me sick but whatever. god this is so short, i'm so sorry.

Warnings: Use of Y/n, reader is described to have curly hair but that's about it.

Children of Dionysus are rare, daughters even more so. As a matter of fact, you were the only one. To your knowledge… Before you came to Camp Half-Blood, you were an only child, and when you arrived, you suddenly had a much larger family that you did before. A father, brothers, it was fantastic, it felt amazing to have the family you had always dreamed of. However, with a somewhat absent mother, apparently no sisters, and not a whole lot of friends, let alone female ones, you had had little to no feminine influence in your life. This resulted in you becoming a bit of a tom-boy. It’s not that you didn’t want to embrace your femininity, you just didn’t know how.

“Oh goodness, those curls are a mess.”

“That outfit certainly isn’t doing her any favours.”

You heard the whispers as you walked past the small group of Aphrodite girls. As a child of Dionysus, you had quite a talent for theatrics, as well as being prone to sarcastic remarks, so you just couldn’t help but snap back.

“Can I help you?” You asked the group of girls, hands on your hips with your brows furrowed.

“Actually, we were wondering if we could help you…”

---

You now found yourself sat in a surprisingly comfortable barber-style chair in the bathroom of the Aphrodite cabin.

“Sorry I got defensive; I’m not really used to talking to girls much.” You apologise to Silena once again. 

“Stop apologising! We love having a new girl to give makeovers to. And who knows, maybe this will give you the confidence boost you need to finally talk to Luke, since he’s obviously too shy to talk to you first.”

You cast your gaze downward as a warmth spread across your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re not that obvious. I just have a knack for these kinds of things, comes with being an Aphrodite kid. Luke, however, is about as subtle a sledgehammer. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” She paused combing your hair to look you in the eye.

You just shrugged.

“The lingering touches when he corrects your stances, yearning stares…” She awaited your reaction and when she was met with a befuddled expression, she continued.

“Oh my god, you’re oblivious. Here’s what you’re going to do. Once we’re done here, you’re going to walk right up to him, and ask him out. There’s no way he’ll say no, so don’t try that excuse. And I’ve seen you on stage, you can certainly play an outgoing character, so if you’re going to use the shy excuse, I’ll tell you to just pretend you’re on stage.”

---

It had been almost two hours and your makeover was finally over. Your curls were healthier than ever, your nails were painted, light makeup had been applied, and you had never felt more beautiful. You looked at your outfit in the mirror, taking note of the way the new flare jeans were much more flattering than your previous daggy cargos, and your camp tee now a size smaller and no longer drowning you.

“You’re lucky orange suits you, now go get your man!” Silena pushed you out the door, giving your butt a playful smack on the way out.

---

Feeling more confident than ever you approached Luke while he was practicing his swordsmanship in front of the setting sun, alone, as he usually was at this time of day.

“Luke”

The brunette boy turned around so swiftly he almost lost his footing. He looked you up and down and swallowed heavily.

“Y/n, you look ama- “

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words shot out of your mouth before you could stop them. Regardless of Silena’s reassurance, if he did end up rejecting you, you wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

His jaw dropped and he looked as though he wanted to say something, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate.  The two of you stood in silence for a few moments as you waited for an answer.

“It’s fine if you don’t. I’ll just go.” You began to turn around.

“YES! Sorry, yes, I want to go out with you. Please. I really want to go out with you.”

It seemed his voice had finally caught up with his mind.

Hmm… He’s cute when he rambles…

@elz-zalarrr this one's for you!

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

← Smutlet Masterlist

18+ Edging

An hour! He had been at it for an hour. It felt like an eternity. But Bucky was a patient man. He knew the value of fortitude. The value of tenacity. So much so that your pleas might as well have fallen on deaf ears. His touch made you melt, regardless of the situation, but when he was trying, you were his to mold. You were putty in his hands. He knew your body like his own, the things you liked, the things you loved, the things that drove you crazy. His own body responded to yours. But when this mood came over him, nothing else could distract him from his plans.

“Keep your eyes on me, Doll. You’re doing so well.”

You were bare before him, just how he liked you. Every part of you accessible to his eager needs. He found himself between your legs, grinding against your core. It didn’t take long for you to turn into a squirming mess as he rutted against you. You were so close when he bent forwards to capture your nipple between his lush pink lips, making your hips stutter, losing your rhythm and breaking the tension in your tightly wound coil.

“I thought I taught you better than this, Doll? Such a needy little princess.”

He was possessive. No one got to touch you but him. You weren’t even allowed to please yourself when he got like this. You belonged to him and him alone. Bucky was a tactile person. He liked to feel. You in particular. With his fingers, with his tongue, with his cock. He was addicted. To the softness of your skin, the plumpness of your lips, to the firmness of your ass and breasts. You offered him a level of trust like no one had before. And he liked the control. He loved the way you responded to his touch. The sounds you made. The way you looked when he was inside you.

“Don’t hold back, Doll. Show me how much you need me.”

Not that he always showed the same restraint when it came to his own needs. His pants were around his ankles without hesitation. Stroking his swollen member as he stood between your spread legs. He gazed longingly at your glistening cunt. Teasing himself with the arousal that coated your folds. Mixing his juices with yours. Maybe he would allow you one taste, just to see how well your essences complimented each other. He would have you hooked on the cocktail of your desires. Your hips bucked longingly as he pushed into you.

“Can’t get enough, can you, Doll? Can’t get enough of my thick cock deep inside you?”

The devilish grin that painted his face told you he meant to only tease you. Give you but a taste of his talents. The ridges of his cock stroked your sheath, stretching your walls, but leaving you just short of a release. Of course, this didn’t stop him. He tilted himself away from your most sensitive spot, leaving you begging him mercilessly. He spilled his scorching white seed into you. His throbbing shaft pulsed inside, filling you to the brim. You were so close when he pulled out of you. Bucky gathered his cum leaking from your cunt and pushed it back into you. Your moans imploring your release.

“Louder, baby. Let me hear you. Does that feel good?”

Bucky chuckled at your frustration. The denial, the control. He got off on it. He kneeled down between your legs, his face inches away from where you wanted it most. He blew softly against your cum-filled pussy. Making your clit tingle with anticipation. He spread your folds, amused by the eager thrusts of your hips, meeting nothing but air. He taunted you, dangling your release in front of you like a proverbial carrot.

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?”

He didn't give you a chance to answer as he licked a stripe up from your hole, tasting you. Reveling in the whimpers falling off your lips.

“You taste so good. I will never get enough of you.”

He hummed his approval, licking his lips. He tried again, tongue making contact with your clit. Again and again. Faster and faster. Until you were pleading with him.

“Just hold on for me, Doll. Just a little longer.”

His voice was soft but filled with authority. You would do as you were told. Bucky's lips circled your clit, sucking roughly. Making you scream from the sensitivity and pleasure. You thrust into his mouth, grinding at the same pace as he put more pressure on your swollen nub.

“Count to ten for me, Doll. Nice and slow. Then you get to cum. Understand?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, nodding, willing your mind to focus.

“But remember, Doll, any signs of you trying to cum before that, and you're going to be sorry.”

You took a deep breath and spoke. One. Your hands made fists into the bedsheets in your effort to stay sane. Two. His nose brushed your clit as his tongue pushed into your cunt. Three. Bucky hummed, the vibrations his voice sent into you almost had you losing control. Barely holding on to your sense of control, you took another step. Four. He took his vibranium hand off your thigh and used it to spread your folds. Five. 

“That's my good girl, just a little more. Just hang in there and I'm going to make you feel so good.”

Six. You muffled a sob against your fist. Seven. He was licking every inch of you. Eight. Your back arched as he pushed his fingers inside you. Nine. They grazed your sweet spot, testing the boundaries of your climax. Ten!

“Cum for me, Doll!”

You shook from the pleasure, eyes rolling back. There were fireworks. Bucky held you, supported you, helped ride out your orgasm. You lay limp in his arms, spent from the effort, basking in the exhilaration. Bucky smiled down at you.

“Good girl.”

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Lucifer x Reader - A Gift For You (NSFW)

A drabble based on @the-other-soup’s birthday gift to me (I’m so sorry you got age restricted because of it 😭😭😭)

Lucifer was nearly inconsolable after he came home late after he promised a date night; work at the hotel tied him up more than he initially thought

You kept insisting that it was alright and that you understood his work was important; but he was adamant about making it up to you!

The poor thing wouldn’t take “no” for an answer; so eventually you conceded

But what you didn’t expect to see when you walked into your bedroom the next night was a very naked Lucifer tied to the headrest with a lovely red ribbon

“Lucifer? What uhh…what is this? I mean, not that I’m upset! But this certainly is a…very nice surprise.~”

The angel chuckled lightly. “I promised that I would make it up to you, didn’t I? Well…this is my apology! Unless you don’t want-“

”No, no! I do! But what’s with the bow?”

”I think it’s only fair that you get to do whatever you desire since I wasn’t able to keep my promise. I am at your mercy, my love.~”

“So…I can do anything?~”

Lucifer swallowed hard, giving you a nervous smile. “Y-Yes, anything. It’s the least I can do! And I’ll remain bound until you say otherwise.”

You smiled at him sweetly and leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips

“Such a good boy for me~,” you praised him, “I think you deserve a treat~.”

In no time, you stripped naked and hovered your needy pussy over your lover’s eager face

“Eat up, Luci.~”

You lowered yourself down onto his face slowly, making sure not to overwhelm him…At least not yet!

Lucifer wasted no time licking your folds like a man starved, moaning into your wet folds, his tongue prodding your entrance

You had to grip the headrest a bit tighter than normal; Lucifer’s hands usually gripped your hips but this time you wanted to make him work for it

Regardless, Lucifer’s tongue was just as skillful even without his hands to hold you steady; he knew exactly how to push you over the edge

You came in almost no time at all, your juices flowing down his chin as he tried to clean you up as much as he could

You looked behind you to see his cock now standing at full mast, precum leaking from the tip

“Thank you, baby,~” you cooed. “Let’s keep going shall we? But I’ll need a few things first.~”

You dug through your drawer and pulled out a few things to make this night a little more fun; a cock ring, a bullet vibrator, and a bottle of lube

Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat when he saw what you had brought over; he knew he was in for it now

You slipped the cock ring on him first, making sure he couldn’t cum anytime soon; he whined as you pumped his cock a few times just to tease him

You kissed the tip, giving it a small little kitten lick to clean up what had already spilled out of him

“Spread your legs for me, hon, just relax.~”

The king nodded his head and did as you asked, his breath shaky and unsteady

After placing some line on your fingers, you pried open his his right ass, stretching it and making sure he was prepped for the other toy you wanted to play with

After a little bit, you retracted your fingers and replaced them with the small vibrator, setting it at a medium pace

Lucifer’s hips bucked up involuntarily at the new stimulation his body was receiving, soft cries escaping his throat

“You know the safe word, right Luci?~”

“I-I do…” he whimpered,

“Use it if you need to, sweetie.”

You made your way back on top of him as easily sunk down on his strained cock

You shifted you hips lethargically at first, pulling the cutest whimpers and moans from the devil underneath you

You used his cock like your own personal toy, fucking yourself on it till you came hard around him; your pulsing walls pushed Lucifer to his breaking point!

"F-FUCK, PLEASE! Please love...let me hold you...please, I-I'll do anything! Anything you want, j-just...just let me go!"

His pitiful pleas pulled at your heart strings; you didn't want to leave him unsatisfied

As soon as you untied the bow, his hands flew to your hips in the blink of an eye, his nails digging into your skin

"Ah ah, behave now, Luci,~" you reprimanded. "The ring stays on, the vibe stay on, understand?~"

A small pathetic whine escaped his throat, but he nodded nonetheless

He began to move your body, impaling you on his cock as if you weighed nothing; you knew he couldn't cum and yet it was as if he didn't care

All he wanted was your pleasure

One of his hands flew to your clit, rubbing it in tandem with his harsh thrusts as his mind was overloading from the pleasure he was being denied

Small tears began to prick his eyes as he relentlessly bucked his hips up into you over and over until you came for a third time, squeezing his aching cock

It was near torture

But you smiled as you began to catch your breath from your last high, slowly removing yourself from him

"N-No! Please come back! I-"

Before he could beg anymore, you removed his cock ring for him, finally freeing his engorged length

"You were so good for me, Lucifer. I just need on last thing from you.~"

You mounted him again, slowing easing down on his cock once more

"I want you to fill me to the brim. Can you do that for me?~"

"Y-Yes! Yes, thank you, love, t-thank you!" Lucifer exclaimed.

Needless to say, your cunt was leaking his massive load in no time as he spilled his hot angelic seed into you not even a minute later

You crashed on top of him, desperately trying to regulate your breathing

"Good boy, Luci. Thank you for the gift, I love it.~ And I love you.~"

"I love you more, my angel.~"

[star2fishmeg]

may i interest you in some oral fixation!luke thots? ☝️

you start noticing it early on your relationship. chews on his straws, ice, gums. and it doesn’t help that he takes every opportunity he has to have his lips on you. constant neck kisses, bites where only he can see, doesn’t even let them heal before he goes over them so they don’t fade.

so one day you’re lazily making out on the couch after he came home from practice, hand stroking his cheek with your thumb dangerously close to his mouth. pulling away just barely, he whines from the loss of your lips and you just can’t help but test your theory out and stick your thumb between his lips. and luke just stares at you wide-eyed but closes his lips around your finger with a low moan, swiping his tongue around it and you’re just mesmerized by how sweet he looks underneath you.

i could go on for dayssssss about this 😵‍💫

ALWAYS PLEASE SHARE AND THAT FINGER IS MY FAVE EMOJI

I fear I ghostwrote this, bc I have literally been writing about finger-sucking with Luke- nonnie I'm wet, need his lips on me now after that. Holy shit that was hot. Whiny Luke, making out, neck kisses, I need that irl. I'd like to add:

Oral fixation!Luke where you find him burying himself between your legs at any given opportunity, relishing in the way your cunt glistens for him when he spreads your folds apart to run his tongue through them painfully slow, flicking your clit mercilessly. He's lapping at your arousal messily, pressing his face as far as he can, ensuring his nose bumps your clit to draw those beguiling whines from you. Sometimes he loves the comfort of your thighs clamping around his head, other times he's holding them open with his big hands for his tongue to bully into new, deeper angles that provoke the most erotic wails from you. But regardless, he's pinning you down and eating you out like you've deprived him of your taste, grinding down into the mattress fuelled by carnal desire.

Oral fixation!Luke who stares you down with a dry mouth when you're eating ice cream, wiping a melting drop dribbling down the cone with your finger. He doesn't give you the chance to bring it towards your lips before his fingers are gently wrapping around your wrist, pulling your finger into his mouth, tongue swirling to taste the ice cream but also sucking on your digit. His eyes burn into yours and you insert your middle finger between his lips, captivated and curious with this obsession of his.

Oral fixation!Luke who kisses you until your lips are swollen and red, biting your lip and never suppressing his eager whines and moans when your tongues lick into each other. He kisses you until you can't breathe, his grip on your hips so tight his hands leave bruises. He loves it when you pull his hair, it sends his body into overdrive and it feels like he's being electrocuted. Loud, unhinged groans emit from his chest and kisses become sloppier until your lips are stinging.

[ziggymars]

mirror, mirror (18+) - cl.16

Charles Leclerc x Reader

winner from this poll

warning(s): sentences that would have gotten me lobotomized in the 1900s, terribly translated Italian AND French, established relationship, fingering, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected pnv, cream pie, horn dog charles and awful writing probably, please don’t hate me im intimidated by the f1 fandom even though i am in it ..... also i didn't proofread the whole thing please forgive any errors, they will probably be fixed soon. minors pls DNI.

word count: 3.7k+

A/N: mama an inchident behind you ! I know I was going to post this like a month ago, but I'm going through it sis AND my computer ate the original so I had to rewrite this oop. i'm very sorry to everyone who was expecting timo, the mexico city gp had me feral so you get this monstrosity. don’t hesitate to send any dirty thoughts you have about charles, perhaps inspiration will strike and i will give you the gift of sinful prose. i'm nervous to post this but i'm going to anyways xoxo zigs

The first thing you usually hear that is a clear indication that Charles is home, is the purr of his engine pulling into the driveway. A sound that had quickly become one of your favorites. A cacophony that drove your neighbors completely mad, music to your ears. Next came the jingling of his keys, echoing in the foyer. Which was very clear to you from where you stood. Today you were faced in front of a ginormous mirror. It had just gotten delivered but the installation guys wouldn't be able to make it until next week; so now it was placed, halfhazardly, against the wall in the living room. Definitely not where it was supposed to go. It looked kind of nice there regardless, reflecting the warm glow of lights in your shared home.

You glanced over at the clock, a familiar anticipation bubbling inside of you. He had mentioned an interview with Max earlier, and you could only imagine how it had gone. The door creaked open, and you turned your head -- a warm smile spread across your face at the sight of him. There he was, looking so effortlessly handsome as he always does. "Honey, I'm home!" He chirped, once again, as he always did. Charles strode to where you stood, and he stopped in his tracks for a moment as his eyes fell on the mirror. "Wow, um.... that's huge," he said with a raised brow, astonishment clear on his features. He continued walking towards it and ran a finger along the ornate frame, your eyes following it the entire time "I didn't expect it to be this big."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his observations, you had thought the same thing when it came. "Neither did I." You said as you followed closer to him to wrap an arm around his side, head on his shoulder. "What do you think?" You asked, "I think it will look really nice in the stairway. Installation guys can't make it until next week though.”

Charles mirrored you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He tilted his head to the side as he studied his reflection and then he began to study yours. "I think it will look really amazing once it's put up. For now it takes up a lot of space, no? I guess that's alright." He said, the last part mostly to himself.

For a moment, you both stood there, caught in the sight of your reflection. There was something intimate about it, even if both of you were fully clothed. It captured your visage but also the energy in the room; remnants of shared memories and love. An idea came to him that made all of his cares about its current placement fly out the window.

"Do you want to try it out?" Charles asked suddenly, catching you off guard. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, don't you want to see how we look together?"

A warm flush spread across your cheeks and you ripped your eyes from his reflection to look at him for real as you asked "Together?"

"Of course. You know what I mean." He laughed and turned his gaze to look at you too, the intensity making your heart skip just a beat. "Please. Let me play with you, il mio cuore."

Your shoulders brushed as you turned to face him, your mouth opening to protest. You had two Cornish hen's in the oven that you desperately did not want to burn. It wouldn't have been the first time you nearly started a fire because of Charles' obsession with pleasing you. It was a protest that he didn't even let escape your mind before he was placing a finger over your lips to silence you. "Just turn it off, if you're worried about dinner." He knew without you even having to say it, he could smell the aroma from the kitchen. And while it did smell really, really good -- the pull to explore this mirror’s capabilities was too strong for him. Too strong to miss this opportunity.

You gave a playful roll of your eyes before you kissed the finger pressed to your lips, a sigh of “Fine.” slipping through the space around it.

Too excited to wait even a moment longer, he gives your ass a light spank, saying "Hurry along." The commanding tone sending a shiver down your spine and a skip in your step as you did as he told; scampering to the kitchen to turn the oven off. It took you no time and even less to get back to him.

"Good girl." He purred and then pulled you closer to him by the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, maneuvering your body until you were both facing the mirror. Charles towered over you, his torso brushing against your shoulder blades. He ran one hand across your collarbone and then down your clothed stomach. "This will be fun, I promise."

"I don't doubt that," you breathed, goosebumps starting to rise in the wake of his fingertips as your eyes closed, "it's just a bit awkward, watching myself."

"No.." Charles cooed, his fingers gliding back to where they came from, tracing along the swell of your breast, the feeling of it causing him to take a sharp inhale. "You're beautiful, please, look at you."

When they found their way to your nipples, which were already pert under his touch, your eyes finally fluttered open. A soft, almost indiscernible grunt leaving your already parted lips. "You're so excited already, and I've barely touched you." He said, a cocky grin slipping to his lips as he pinched at one of them absentmindedly. You let out a quiet yelp and your back can't help but arch into the touch, "More, please." coming from your lips.

Nearly every time he heard you say that, he would oblige. Right now was one of those times. Charles slid his hand down, slipping it under your shirt; fingertips gliding across your flesh, "So soft." He remarked, his voice becoming more thick the closer his hand got to cupping around your breast. Where he kneaded, his fingers melding to your skin deliciously. You gave off another soft grunt, your thighs wriggling in an attempt to rub them together. "Oh, feeling needy today?"

You were tempted to roll your eyes but decided against it, not wanting to thwart any chances of getting what you now desperately wanted. He took notice of your self restraint so he rewarded you by snaking his hand down and into the hem of your spandex shorts, the ones he loved so much. Charles was met immediately with the feel of your already slick folds. "No underwear, mon lapinou?" (my bunny).

All you could do was nod your head and look at his reflection with a pleading look as the pad of his middle finger circled in the slick you produced. "Use your words." His voice was a gentle coo urging you on.

"No underwear." You confirmed with a shaky voice "Please, Charles, you're driving me crazy."

"You drive me crazy all the time," he said "perhaps this is payback." The same smirk glued to his lips from before as he moved his finger up and down gently against your clit. "Fine," he huffed "I'll give you what you want though." It was partly for you, but also selfish reasons. He was eager to watch the show you were about to provide for no one but him; the thought of it intoxicating him relentlessly.

Without another word, he's tugging your shorts down and allowing you to step out of them before he dramatically, and honestly, a bit comically threw them to the side. Not giving a single care to where they went, tunnel visioned on nothing but making full use of the mirror.

Next, Charles started to pull the leather arm chair that was skewed beside the couch to sit in front of the mirror; patting his legs with a look to you. “Take off your shirt and come sit on my lap.”

Finally finding courage and clarity through swirling vestiges of lust, you purred a simple "Yes, papà."

Something you didn't call him often. Something you saved in your back pocket for when you really wanted to rile him up. A special treat, for a very special man.

One "Oh, Gesù Cristo." (Jesus Christ) and you knew it had worked. Perfect.

Charles' pupils blow wide and stuck to your hands that were now removing the last remaining piece of clothing. Your eyes, however, were settled on the wet patch that had formed on his shirt, almost the very instant that you had called him the name he loved so much. "Do you like what you see, papà?" You asked, metaphorically poking the sleeping bear.

"Love what I see," he said, beckoning you closer "but I'd love to see what you look like with my fingers inside you a little bit more, come here. Please." Near the end of the sentence, his voice was almost a whine. Giving away just how much he wanted to feel your body against his. You weren't cruel, and to be fair you wanted this just as bad as he did. So you were doing as you were told for the second time this evening. You clambered to settle in his lap and he was quick to adjust your legs. Spreading them impossibly wide with rough hands, your breath already beginning to bait at the implication alone.

Then Charles did something that left your cheeks burning; he spread apart your folds. His mouth fell open as he gazed at the sight in the mirror, admiring your beauty. “Look at that," he swooned, "so pretty. So fucking gorgeous.”

Feeling sheepish from being so exposed, you tried to turn your head and bury it inside the crook of his neck but there was absolutely no way he was going to let that happen. With his other hand he grabbed your chin, not hard enough to actually hurt you but hard enough to make you look; forcing your gaze to where his fingers held open his prize. "See? What did papà say?" He said, his tone scolding yet still warm "So pretty."

Your hips wriggled in his lap, a futile attempt to grind back against the now achingly hard length that was flush against his stomach. Trying to urge him on, to do anything else besides continue to wordlessly look at you like he was going to swallow you whole.

"I'm speaking to you, mon lapinou." Charles tsked, his index finger now circling around your entrance, "don't be rude."

Realizing you didn't have another option, you couldn’t be shy now that you had opened this can of worms with one simple name, you managed to parrot him “So pretty.” Followed by a choked and begging “Please, touch me.”

“Good girl.” He cooed, simple and sweet before he was plunging one finger into your depths; a soft, languid moan falling from your lips. If your vision had been any more clouded, you might have missed the way his eyes nearly rolled back at the sound alone.

Charles’ grip tightened on your chin, keeping your focus steady to where he was now slowly, but surely drawing his finger out, and then back in at an excruciatingly slow pace. Enough to give you what you want but not getting ahead of himself just yet. His eyes dipped closed for only a moment as he leaned forward to pepper gentle kisses to your shoulder. When his eyes open he had to still all of his movements for a moment, genuinely fearing he might cum in his pants at the very sight of you perched in his lap. Your lips parted, legs spread, arousal dripping down his wrist. It was enough to make him weak.

You let out needy whines, hips bucking against his hand, urging him silently. Charles chuckled and obliged, slowly pumping a second digit into your tight heat. “That’s it, ma belle. Let me make you feel good.” He purred, his accent becoming more evident the more he lost himself in the sight. He watched, ever intently, entranced by the way you fell apart under his touch — filthy, breathless moans tumbling from your lips like a leaky faucet.

Charles’ deft fingers continued their filthy dance, pumping in and out of your dripping core, his thumb coming to circle your throbbing clit. Your breaths come in short and labored gasps, chest heaving as you started to lean back against him, pleasure washing over your body. Your hips began to stutter and he made the executive decision to remove his other hand from your chin so he could use it to press them back down against him — spreading your thighs even further. “Oh fuck!” You gasped, a choked moan as he was able to pump his fingers even deeper. Your eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy, head falling back to his shoulder. He tilted his own to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongue immediately dipping into your warm mouth to taste your sweetness.

Charles fingers continued to work, curling them just right. He stroked against the sensitive spot inside of you that made you see stars. A loud and wanton mewl is ripped through your throat, forcing you to pull away from the kiss so you could throw your head back against his shoulder. Obscene wet sounds filled the room as he began to finger-fuck you even harder, reveling in the way your smooth walls fluttered around him. Finally, you manage to pick your head up from his shoulder so you can look into the mirror. Blood rushes down between your thighs as the scene before you comes to view.

A third finger came to play and you were a goner. He reveled in the way your smooth, velvety walls pulsed around him. You became a whimpering mess, your mouth falling open as he met your gaze in the mirror. His eyes were dark and you could see he was holding himself back from just shoving you onto the floor and fucking you into oblivion. It made your eyes roll back, a slow moan of “Charles!” accompanying it.

“You’re close, I can tell.” He says, his voice course but somehow also boastful; knowing he’s the one who knows how to make you come undone like this, writhing in his lap like a first rate whore. One of the ways he can tell is now, how your moans grow even louder, higher pitched. Your hips started to buck against his hand frantically as you babbled “Yes, yes, yes!” over and over in his ear.

“That’s it, amore.” Charles encouraged you, voice husky in your ear. He gritted his teeth, “Cum all over my fingers, pretty girl. Come on, that’s it.”

It was enough for you, it was always enough for you. To hear him commanding you to cum. Like a sleeper agent only activated by a carefully constructed phrase. So with a loud and keening cry, your entire body seized. Thighs clamping around Charles’ wrist, a gush of liquid splashing against his hand and soaking his fingers. It dripped down the leather chair and onto the floor. His eyes widened in shock — you had never done that before. Charles could practically feel his chest swell with pride, satisfied smirk etched on his face. The puddle on the floor in front of you serving as a physical reminder to him of just how well he had done.

Somehow he managed to keep himself composed, grunting as he continued to pump his fingers, coaxing every wave of your orgasm. “Jesus, fuck! Baby!” He growled in appreciation, never ceasing his fingers movements until you were collapsing back, breathlessly, against his chest.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips. You could only watch, mesmerized, when he sucked them clean. A deep moan rose from his throat that reverberated around his fingers. “Delicious,” he said, pulling them from his mouth with a satisfied hum. Charles can barely even hold himself back now, his cock straining against fabric as he stared at the ethereally erotic display before him. You panted, legs shaking from the orgasm he had given you. "Enough of that, mon cherie. I need to be inside of you."

He doesn't give you any time to respond before he is standing, and in one swift motion bending you over the side of the chair. Your face is pressed into the cool leather, your gaze stuck on the reflection of the two of you in the mirror. You didn't mind it being stuck there now, the aftershocks of how good he had made you feel helped your guard come down. And now all you could do was stare at him in the mirror, Charles missed it because he was quick to push both his pants and boxers down, settling himself behind you. You arched your back further and wiggled your hips, a giggle escaping as you presented your glistening pussy for him. He let out a low groan, hands roaming over your ass and up your back. "Fuuuck, look at that." Charles said, taking a moment to admire the view, slowly stroking himself a few times.

Positioning himself behind you, finally, he rubs the tip of his cock across your slick folds, teasing at your entrance. And then without warning, he sheathes himself fully inside of you with one powerful thrust. A long and low moan escapes both of your lips, a sweet symphony of soprano and tenor. Your hands grip onto the leather arm of the chair, trying to ground yourself into reality.

But it's hard. Really hard. Especially when he starts to set a steady rhythm, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. Setting a primal pace that leaves the both of you gasping in pleasure. His pelvis slaps forward against your ass with each and every powerful thrust -- each one driving you forward just a little bit more. Your eyes are half-lidded now, heavy with lust. But you will them to stay open. You can see everything in the mirror. The ecstacy etched in your furrowed brows, the bounce of your ass with every jolt of his hips, and his muscles flexing subtly as he fucked into you at a relentless pace. Hands down the hottest thing you had ever been privy to witness.

Another thing you're keen to notice is the way he's so focused on not losing himself. For a man so ready to fuck you in front of a mirror, it sure seemed like he couldn't handle it anymore. Evident by the way his head was thrown back, curses of your name tumbling from his lips over and over. Your eyes begin to roll, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the knowledge that you were the one who made this usually so confident and domineering man feel like this.

Almost as if he could sense your thoughts, his head comes back forward, his hands gripping tightly onto your ass now. "You like this, non?" It comes out with a quiet grunt "You like when I fuck you like this?"

When you're not answering as quickly as he'd like, he's suddenly bringing one hand down to slap against your ass harshly. You let out a yelp that turns into a pathetically pleasured whine, "Yes, Charles! Feels so good!"

Charles rubs his hand along where it had previously struck, soothing the angry flesh. "Good girl," he cooed through gritted teeth "milking this cock so good." One of his hands abandons its grip on your ass to reach and rub tight circles against your clit. It sends cascading shockwaves of bliss pulsing through your bones. Determined to make you cum again, he says "Come on, baby. Cum all over this cock," Charles can feel you tightening around him, your moans growing more insistent and drawn out "I want to feel you." He clenched his jaw, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

He leans forward and loops an arm under you to palm at one of your breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers as he pounds into you. The new angle allowing him to hit that spot inside of you. His thrusts grow even more erratic, teeth grazing the sensitive skin against your neck -- rapidly chasing his own release. The thought of him cumming, the look on his face, it was too much. You cried out his name and your walls rhythmically pulsed around his cock as you came for the second time this evening. It was his Achilles' heel. Charles' snapped his hips one final time, burying himself deep as he possibly could. There was a long and low grunt that bellowed from his throat as he emptied himself inside of you, both arms wrapping around your middle to hold you close to him.

There was a long moment where the both of you just stayed like that. Your heart rates coming back to normal, still joined together. "You are incredible. The sounds you make, how you take me..." Charles' praises you softly, his thumb running along your swollen lower lip "c'est magnifique. I love you." He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before he pulls out, slow and careful. Watching as his release trickles from you, a wolfish grin spreads across his lips, but you're momentarily displeased. A whimper bubbles from your lips, wishing he could just stay inside of you forever.

You unfurled your body from it's position across the chair, trying to keep your thighs clamped together as best as you could, "I love you, too."

Before you can even blink, Charles is by your side, giving you his arm so he could walk you to the bathroom. He was sweet like that. Always making sure that he took the best care of you after he had done sacrilegious things to your body.

Together, you made your way down the hallway. Albeit, you had to practically waddle to ensure you didn't spill on the floors you had just so meticulously cleaned hours before.

"Maybe we could just keep the mirror there?" He looked over at you to suggest, cheeky grin in tow. Amusing suggestion from someone who just said that it was taking up too much space.

You laughed and then grimaced, your hand flying between your legs "Please, don't make me laugh right now, Charles."

[coryosmin]

the thought of reader teaching peacekeeper!coryo how to eat pussy and please her because he’s a selfish lover and never done it before !! at first he was hesitant at the idea but when his sweet gf cums he just wants to watch her do it all day - please blurb this PLEASE 😫😫

nsfw | mdni | fem!reader | oral (f)

you and coryo hadn’t really done much in regards to being sexual with one another. more often than not, peacekeeper snow only came to you when he needed a quick blowjob. and honestly, you were quite sick of it. you need relief too! so when coryo had come to your home late one night asking for a blowjob, you said no.

“what?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“i’m not going to give you a blowjob until you can make me cum, coryo,” you said, rolling your eyes.

coryo frowned, realizing the position he was in. really, all he wanted was head. you’re the only girl in district 12 that he didn’t find repulsive so he only went to you for his own sexual pleasure. but if you’re requesting you be pleasured too then if he wants to keep getting head, then perhaps he should make you cum. but he wasn’t too open about the idea of eating you out. weren’t vaginas gross?

well he didn’t quite know, truthfully. blowjobs are the farthest he’s gone with a woman. he’s never eaten anyone out before nor has he fingered someone.

coriolanus sighed. “how shall i make you cum?”

“eat me out.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders.

coriolanus mentally cursed himself. “just shut up and suck my cock.” he said, rolling his eyes.

you scoffed. “no,” you said back. “i’m not touching your cock until you’ve made me cum,” you exclaimed.

coriolanus bit the inside of his cheek, annoyed by your behavior. of course this would happen. he rolled his eyes once more before finally replying. “fine.”

you grinned, taking a seat on your bed. you grabbed your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side. “well, get to it private snow,” you said, spreading your legs for coriolanus.

looking at your glistening pussy in front of him, coriolanus couldn’t help that his cock instantly hardened. coriolanus swallowed, dropping to his knees in front of you with a hand on your thigh. he looked down at your pretty pussy before looking back up at you. “what would you like me to do first?” he asked.

you tilted your head. “have you ever eaten a woman out, coriolanus?”

coryo hesitated to respond. he could lie and say he has or he could tell the truth. regardless, he would seem weak and pathetic. eventually, he shook his head no.

and in return you smirked. but you didn’t say anything that indicated you judging him. so coriolanus took that as a good sign. so you guided coriolanus through it. you told him about licking a strip up your cunt and about wear the clit was, how his tongue may dip into your hole and it will feel good.

coriolanus listened carefully, taking in all of that information before putting it into practice. he tentatively licked a strip up your cunt. your juices were foreign on his tongue, very different. but not entirely bad at all. though he wasn’t willing to admit that at all. coriolanus brought his tongue over to your clit, teasing the nub with the tip of his tongue.

you let out a soft whimper, looking down at coryo. his eyes were looking up at you as he teased you with his tongue. coriolanus then brought his lips around your clit, sucking on it. you moaned, bringing a hand to his head.

and that’s when coriolanus realized he liked it. being able to make you feel good, there’s a power to that. he began eating you out properly, making you realize that coryo was indeed a fast learner. his face was buried in your cunt, making you whine and moan. he dipped his tongue into your hole, his nose rubbing against your clit.

your orgasm hit you hard and fast, causing you to clench your thighs around coriolanus’s face. and oh my god was coriolanus in heaven. but rather than stopping after you finished, coryo continued, eating you out messily as his tongue continued its attack on your cunt.

you were whining from the overstimulation but you absolutely adored it. because coriolanus truly was a natural at it. and clearly, coriolanus was enjoying it too judging by the fact that he was rutting against your mattress.

it was safe to say that it quickly because coryo’s favorite thing.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 22 - 'Galería D’ange ' | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.8 k

Lunch out in Madrid with Jude, Jobe, and Toby was a lively, carefree afternoon. The café was full of laughter and teasing, a pleasant contrast to the more serious moments you’d been through recently. You’d almost forgotten about the world outside until you noticed some fans began to gather at the window, phones out, eager to catch a glimpse of Jude.

“You came back for this?” Toby leaned over with a grin, nudging you lightly teasing. You laughed, feeling the attention, and instinctively buried your face in the crook of Jude’s neck, giggling as he chuckled too, his arm slipping around you protectively. 

“Obviously,” you joked, peeking up from behind Jude as Toby continued to tease. Lunch carried on with more laughs and playful jabs as you all enjoyed each other’s company. When the meal ended, the four of you wandered down a picturesque cobblestone street, the sun warming your skin but the breeze sending a shiver down your spine. The atmosphere was light, peaceful, and Madrid felt a little more like home with them by your side. 

“Yo…Have you heard about the new gallery in Carabanchel?”  Jobe casually mentioned as you walked.  You looked at him, surprised he had.

“You? A gallery? I hadn’t” you giggled. “But why do you even know that, Jobe?” you teased, a grin spreading across your face. 

“What, I can’t have interests?” He smirked.

“You can! You just didn’t tell me we had the same one. It hadn’t come up yet that’s all,” you said, laughing, hands raised in innocence. “You wanna go?”

“Yeah, why not?” Jobe shrugged, acting nonchalant. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. 

“Since when are you so down for stuff like this? I tried to get you to go with me one time and you said no.” You raised your brow joking but recalling a recent event you got invited to. Jobe was in town and a friend of friend invited you to an opening knowing you were now in Madrid, 

“Because it was a pity invite!” Jobe yelped! Jude couldn’t go so you invited Jobe to go with you genuinely. He still was invited with or without Jule so whilst he was pretending to be offended right now… he hadn’t wanted to go that night.

“Alright alright, regardless, I think we should go today.” Jude, walking beside you, squeezed your hand and chimed in.  You blinked up at him, a bit confused. Normally, you’d have to persuade him to join you on something like this, but today, both brothers seemed unusually eager. 

“No…Wait… What’s going on?” You smiled.  Jude grinned but didn’t give anything away.

“Nothing, just thought it’d be fun.” He quipped. You weren’t going to press. If they wanted to go look at art you were more than okay with it. With a shrug, you let it go and continued walking, Jude’s hand warm in yours.  It was a sunny day but the weather was turning. It was brisk and so you had to nick Jude’s jacket off him adding a men's Saint Laurent jacket to your mini skirt, t shirt, and boots look. “You ruined my fit but I guess I’ll still go to the gallery with you, angel.” Jude teased. You giggled pushing your face into his bicep. The exchange almost distracted you from the direction change in your route. The cobblestone streets soon led you to a part of the city you loved but one you weren’t intending to go to today. You were struck by a striking green windowed wall, an old garage-style door with vibrant green window panes catching your eye. It made you smile. It reminded you of a door at your chateau.  You smiled at the look of the place, appreciating the aesthetic and the familiar feeling it brought to you, but as you got closer, something seemed off. The space was completely empty, just concrete floors and nothing inside.

“Jude…” you said, your voice holding a note of suspicion. “What is this?” He stopped walking and looked at you with a mischievous smile.

“Come on then, just trust me please,” he said softly, pulling you toward the empty building. You glanced back at Jobe and Toby, who were both smiling like they knew something you didn’t.

“No… I don’t like this. What is going on?” you asked again, more curious now than anything else but not appreciating Toby and Jobe’s smugness. Jude led you closer to the empty space, his hand still firmly in yours. 

“Voilà! Mon ange.” Jude cooed, leaning to whisper into your ear. You roughly could see inside, your eyes wide as you took in the space, its high ceilings and expansive windows filling the room with natural light. The charm of the old, worn exterior contrasted perfectly with the brightness and newness inside of it, and it felt like the perfect balance between something familiar and something entirely new. Before you could process it all Jude gently dropped a pair of keys into your hands before he moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.  You stared down at them, heart pounding. “It’s for you… for us,” he said, his voice soft and calm, but the weight of his words settled over you. He leant around you, his eyes flashing to meet yours, and there was something vulnerable in them. “I wanted you to have something here. A place that feels like you.” He said. Your breath hitched. The gesture, the thought behind it—it was overwhelming. He was offering you more than just this physical space. He was offering you a home, a way to make Madrid yours too, to build something that belonged to you both. Jude’s hand cupped your cheek as he smiled softly. “You can do whatever you want with it. Sell it, keep it, leave it empty… or,” he paused with a smirk, “my personal suggestion is you make it the secondary location of my favorite gallery in the world. What do you think?” He cooed. Your lip trembled, and before you could stop it, tears spilled down your cheeks. 

“And she’s off.” Jobe, who was standing behind you, made a quip with a laugh. You barely heard him as Toby elbowed him to shut up. You were locked in your own little world, where all that mattered was Jude and the weight of what he was giving you. The thoughtfulness, the future he was offering—it all hit at once. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Jude’s voice broke through your daze. You nodded, but your hands shook as you tried to steady your breath. Jude noticed and took the keys from your hand, unlocking the door himself and holding it open for you. You stepped inside, feeling the cool air from the wide, open space wash over you. Jobe and Toby followed, their usual banter quieting as they sensed the enormity of the moment. You walked a few steps into the gallery but couldn’t move any further. The reality of what this space meant, the future it held, made your knees weak. 

“You good?” Toby, sensing your shock, gave your arm a gentle squeeze as he asked with a soft smile. You couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but stand there in disbelief. Jude had mentioned the idea of a gallery before, but you hadn’t taken it seriously. Now, standing in the middle of this space that was yours, you felt the full weight of his commitment. Jobe and Toby, sensing the need to give you two space, quickly made an excuse and headed out, leaving you and Jude alone. The second they left, your legs gave out, and you sank to the floor, your hands shaking as you tried to process it all. Jude was instantly at your side, kneeling in front of you. 

“Angel…” he murmured, his hand brushing the hair from your face. “It’s just the space, there’s no pressure. I want Madrid to be our home. And your work… it’s important. It’s important to you, it’s important to me.” His voice was so sincere, so full of love. “If having a little annex here in Madrid helps us build something that feels like home, then I think it’ll be good for us.” You looked up at him through teary eyes, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to form words. His face softened as he waited patiently for you to speak. He was giving you everything, and it was almost too much to bear. “So… thoughts?” he asked gently with a smirk, trying to pull you back from the brink of your emotions.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking as more tears spilled over. “I love you so much.” Jude pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and steady.

“C’mere, I love you too, Angel,” he whispered into your hair. “We’re going to make this our home. Together.” Jude helped you up, pulling you gently into his embrace as the two of you stood in the empty gallery space.

“Me and you.” You murmured into his chest almost silent, confirming your togetherness. 

“Us against them all, yeah?”  He cooed. You nodded. Normally, a space like this, with its bare walls and concrete floors, would feel cold and impersonal. But in Jude’s arms, it felt warm, alive. His presence, his heartbeat against you, made this gallery the most beautiful it would ever be, even in its emptiness. He looked down at you, his cheeky smile making your heart flutter. “I thought of a name… if you’d want to hear it,” he said, eyes twinkling. 

“Okay, go on” you said, your curiosity piqued. The moment broken by your soft giggles, leaning into his warmth. 

“Galería D’ange,” he said with a playful grin, stumbling over the Spanish and French words. His attempt was endearing, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was so Jude, and it melted you inside. Your eyes lit up with amusement and affection as the sweetness of the name settled in your mind. But then, Jude’s face softened into something more serious, his gaze intent as he continued. “And then we’ll add the ‘of Y/L/N New York,’ you know? Make it yours, connect to your gallery back there.” He told you. You blinked, processing his words as the reality of what he was saying sunk in. 

“Galería D’ange of Y/L/N New York,” you repeated slowly, the name rolling off your tongue with meaning. It was perfect. It was you. It was him. It was everything the two of you had built together, now grounded in something tangible and lasting. This was your life—intertwined with his, filled with love and adventure, and now, with a space to call your own. “Babyyyy,” you whined, overwhelmed with emotion, but your smile was radiant. “Perfect. Parfait. Perfecto,” you giggled, switching between all three languages with playful enthusiasm. Jude chuckled softly at your reaction, the warmth of his laugh spreading through you. “Thank you,” you whispered, your heart swelling with gratitude. You leaned in, kissing him deeply, your hands sliding up to his face as you pulled him closer, pouring all the love you felt for him into that kiss. When you pulled back, you gazed up at him with glistening eyes, unable to fully express how much this moment, this gesture, meant to you. But you didn’t need to. Jude knew, and the way he looked back at you, as if you were his whole world, said everything. So you stood there in the middle of the empty gallery, the air around you buzzing with quiet emotion as you held onto Jude tightly. The tears on your cheeks felt never-ending, your nose pressed into his shirt as you sniffled. His arms wrapped around you, steady and grounding, as if he were trying to physically hold together the emotions between you. 

 “Don’t take this the wrong way, but this really shouldn’t…” You trailed off, your voice cracking with the weight of how deeply overwhelmed you felt. “It shouldn’t work.” You finished your sentiment. Jude understood what you meant. You weren’t questioning the relationship, you were complimenting how unreal it was that you were finding success  Looking up at him, your eyes wide and filled with adoration, you pouted. “Why are you like this?” you asked with a pout, barely above a whisper. “You’re the sweetest boy in the whole world.” Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his cheek as your thumb brushed gently against his skin. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, as if he were savoring every second of the connection. And when he opened them again, your heart flipped. His gaze was soft, yet intense, filled with so much love that it made you feel like the luckiest person alive. He was so gorgeous, inside and out, and right then you were certain of everything. 

“It works because I love you,” he said, his words carrying a weight that made your chest tighten. “And no newspaper, no tweet, or even ocean can keep me from loving you.” Jude’s voice was low but steady, filled with unwavering certainty. His eyes held yours, and for a moment, the world felt like it had stilled completely. “I want you with me,” he continued, his voice soft yet firm. “Whatever you need, whatever you want—I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you, Angel. For the rest of my life.” You stood there, holding him in the stillness of the empty gallery, the city sounds faint and distant outside. It was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s presence, as the moment stretched into something timeless. Tears continued to slip down your cheeks only slower, but there was a warmth in your heart that overtook the fear and uncertainty. You pressed closer to him, your body melting into his, and in that quiet space—empty, yet so full of promise—you stayed, holding onto the one person who made you feel safe in the storm. 

Time had passed since Jude gave you Galería D’ange. It was like the gallery built a damn blocking anything from the past from getting to you and Jude and today was just another day behind it. You held Jude tightly in the middle of the shop, your arms naturally wrapping around his waist as he reached up onto a shelf to grab something. 

“Angel, let go for a minute, yeah? I need to reach the shelf.” His warm laughter filled the small space as he gently teased. You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even noticed how close you were, how your body instinctively pressed into him, as if you couldn’t bear to be apart for even a moment. With a soft laugh, you apologized, reluctantly letting him go, though the warmth lingered between you. Things were so good—almost terrifyingly good, like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you tried not to think about that. You let yourself stay in the warmth of these moments, the mundane sweetness of just being together. You were out running errands, something so ordinary but so full of meaning when you did it with him. A few people had stopped Jude for photos as you wandered through the streets, smiling and nodding politely as he interacted with the fans. It wasn’t overwhelming, not today. Just a few brief interactions, faces lighting up when they saw him, quick requests for a picture or a signature. It was part of the rhythm of your life now. After the shop, you stopped for coffee, the two of you slipping into a quiet corner of the café. But even in the hushed space, life had a way of reminding you of its presence. As you sat across from Jude, the faint sound of a camera shutter echoed, a flash going off accidentally as a girl tried to take a picture of her coffee. Or maybe it wasn’t an accident. It definitely wasn’t. Either way, it didn’t matter. She glanced your way apologetically, realizing she’d been caught. You gave her a small smile in return, understanding that this was life now—moments of hazy bliss with Jude, sliced through by interactions with strangers, with cameras, with glimpses of the outside world that never quite went away. But Madrid had become your home. You’d moved there primarily, letting New York slip into the background. You’d go back maybe quarterly, only when necessary, but that house nestled just outside the city with Jude—that was home. The kind of home you could breathe in. Where you could wrap yourself around him as much as you liked, no cameras, no interruptions. Just you and Jude, and the life you were building, piece by piece, moment by moment… And on occasion Denise would pop back in too. But today it was just the two of you. As you walked back to the car, the last whispers of summer clung to the air, the warmth still lingering just enough to remind you of the heat, though the crisp bite of autumn was making its steady, inevitable arrival. Madrid had that way of feeling alive during these in-between moments, where the seasons shifted, and the city’s energy matched the change. You tucked the jumper of Jude’s you were in tighter around you, enjoying the cool breeze that swirled around the street. Jude walked beside you, his hand brushing yours as you made your way toward the car. Ever the gentleman, he reached for the door handle, but not before planting a soft kiss on your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to make you smile. The moment was sweet, simple, until you felt the playful slap on your ass. He laughed, full and bright, watching your reaction.

“Jude!” you whined, rolling your eyes dramatically as you shot him a mock glare. “We’re in public!” You dropped your head to the side pouting. 

“Sorry, couldn’t resist angel,” he teased, his grin unapologetic. “Look leng today.” He smirked. With an exaggerated sigh, you slid into the driver’s seat, sending him a sarcastic shake of the head. 

“Thanks so much for that,” You cooed as he shut the door behind you. Of course, you were the one driving—again. This had become part of your dynamic, one that the public, and his fans especially, had picked up on. Jude, for all his skills on the pitch, was still absolutely useless behind the wheel, and you had teased him about it endlessly. He rounded the car, sliding into the passenger seat, completely unbothered by the fact that he was always chauffeured around by you. As you pulled out of the parking lot, heading home, the atmosphere between you was light, carefree. It was one of those days where everything felt just easy—running errands together, grabbing coffee, and soaking in the simplicity of it all. It was as normal as it could get. These were the moments you loved most, the ones that felt like a pause button on the chaos of your lives. But as the city blurred by outside the window, the buzz of Jude’s phone filled the car, and you saw him scrolling through something on social media. He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he scrolled faster, clearly amused by whatever he was seeing.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, glancing over as he leaned back in his seat, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He turned the phone toward you, and there it was—the video. Someone had filmed your entire little exchange back in the parking lot. The kiss, the ass slap, your mock protest, all of it. And it was already making the rounds online. The comments were blowing up. Boys were praising Jude, hyping him up for being so cheeky. Girls were half-swooning, half-scolding him in a mix of affection and exasperation. But then there was the real fan conversation that seemed to be dominating the thread—the one about his driving, or more accurately, his lack of driving.

‘Why can Jude still not drive? That’s a full adult ’ 

One tweet read, with endless replies echoing the same sentiment. It was a long-running joke at this point, one that had taken on a life of its own. Jude clicked his tongue, visibly annoyed but amused all the same.

“Nah, see… when are you actually going to teach me to drive? I’m just getting rinsed online at this point. They’re ruthless,” he said, glancing at you with a mix of frustration and playfulness. You couldn’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling up despite yourself.

“Wait, that’s what you’re concerned about? Not the fact that people are talking about you smacking my ass in public?” He shot you a serious look, his brows furrowed as if this was an actual pressing issue. 

“Yes. Everyone knows I can’t drive. It’s like a national crisis at this point.” He scrolled through more of the comments, his eyes scanning them casually as if he wasn’t slightly stung by the teasing. “But our relationship? That’s private. They don’t know anything about that.” Your eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the seat. 

“Private, huh? Jude, you kissed me, then slapped my ass. So private,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. He shrugged, completely unbothered. 

“I can be way sweeter than opening the car door for you,” he said nonchalantly, scrolling through more tweets. “And I can definitely be rougher than tapping your ass.” You blinked, not expecting that. Your eyebrow raised higher as you studied him, waiting for the smirk you knew was coming. But Jude just kept scrolling, not looking up, completely casual about the whole thing, as if he’d just said something totally normal.

“Oh, really?” you asked, your voice low, teasing. Finally, he looked up, locking eyes with you, his expression softening into that playful grin you knew too well. 

“Really, angel,” he said, the edge of his voice teasing, but there was something earnest behind it. He reached over and brushed his hand against your thigh, his touch light, but the warmth of it lingered. His smile grew, and it was one of those rare moments where the public and the private blurred, and you realized how much of your relationship was still yours, still hidden away from the world, even with all the prying eyes. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head, trying to hold back a laugh. He leaned back, satisfied with himself, and scrolled through the last few tweets with a sigh. 

“All I’m saying is, one driving lesson would solve this whole thing. They’d have nothing left to clown me about.” He explained seriously. You shot him a look.

“Jude, I love you, but the way you panic at a roundabout… I’m not sure I’m the right person to teach you.” His face lit up with mock offense, a hand flying to his chest. 

“Roundabouts are stressful! It’s like driving in circles for no reason, angel.” You couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore. The absurdity of it all—the fact that Jude, this world-famous footballer, was more concerned about his lack of driving skills being roasted online than the viral video of your intimate little moment—made you laugh so hard, you had to concentrate a bit harder on keeping your focus on the road.

“Okay, okay,” you said between laughs, “we’ll do some lessons. But no promises you’ll end up with a license.” You cooed. He grinned, leaning over to plant a kiss on your cheek. 

“Deal. But for now, you can keep driving. I like having my chauffeur.” He smirked. You shot him a playful glare, but the truth was, you didn’t mind. These moments—the teasing, the banter, the simplicity of just being with him—made all the noise from the outside world fade away. This was home. And that was enough. 

"So, rough, huh?" you teased Jude later that evening recalling his joke earlier after the shops. You were  leaning against the bathroom counter as you got ready for bed. The playful smirk tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. Jude, mid-motion of pulling his shirt over his head, paused just enough to catch your eye in the mirror, his grin widening as he tossed the shirt to the side. He turned to face you, that mischievous look in his eye lighting a fire that you'd become all too familiar with. Things had been-well, let's just say spicy between you lately. With no hectic long distance travel schedules and the nights together stacking up, except for the odd away game, you and Jude had spent a lot of time wrapped up in each other. Not just in the bedroom, either-pretty much anywhere had become fair game at this point. The frequency had ramped up in a way that left you both breathless and constantly looking for the next moment to be alone. The scrutiny online about your relationship, the constant public attention, it only seemed to fuel the fire between you. It was as if the more people speculated and watched, the more determined you both were to shut out the world and claim each other, over and over again. Your relationship had found new life through this physical closeness, this undeniable pull toward each other. You weren’t sure you could possibly be more in love with him-this intensely connected, both emotionally and physically. And the sex? Well, it had taken on a life of its own. You were both impossibly horny all the time, a constant heat simmering between you, and it felt like no matter how much time you spent together, it was never enough. You found yourself stealing glances, teasing touches, small moments that quickly spiraled into more. It wasn't just a phase either. It had become your new normal, and you weren't complaining -except maybe for the fact that you couldn't seem to get enough. Your mind was often preoccupied with when you'd get your next fix, your next stolen moment with Jude. The real concern, though, the one in retrospect probably should’ve been entertaining more, was whether you were keeping up with your birth control. But honestly, having to drag yourself upstairs to grab a pill from the nightstand at 9:00 p.m. when you were cuddled downstairs with Jude felt like such an inconvenience. Especially when his arm was draped over your waist, and his lips were finding that perfect spot on your neck that made you melt. It was hard to care about practicalities when life felt this good, when he felt this good. Every kiss, every touch-it was like a drug, and you were both addicted. You couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like to be in the perfect moment, where everything aligned just right, and nothing outside the two of you mattered. Jude stepped closer to you now, his hand sliding up your arm as he leaned down, his lips brushing just beneath your ear. 

"Oh, you have no idea," he whispered, his voice low, teasing, sending shivers down your spine.

You turned to face him fully, biting your lip, your heart racing in anticipation. His eyes sparkled with that playful, knowing look as he reached for you, pulling you against him. The warmth of his skin, the way his body molded to yours, it was almost too much-and yet, it was never enough.

"Care to remind me?" you teased, your voice breathless, the words barely slipping past your lips before he kissed you, deep and slow, pulling you into the kind of moment that you'd found yourself living for lately. Life was good. Jude was even better. Suddenly the bathroom mirrors fogged up with steam, blurring your reflection after you and Jude had fallen into each other once again. He fucked you in the shower till he was dripping out of you. You both knew you were being reckless lately, but the thrill of it all kept you repeating it again and again. It was as if you'd created your own little world within these four walls, a world where pleasure and desire reigned supreme. You locked eyes with Jude through the haze, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. He looks so fucking sexy, his frame glistening with water droplets from the hot shower. Your heart raced as you began to anticipate what was about to happen again, knowing very well that Jude could make you feel things no one else ever could, and you knew that because he just showed you moments ago. As he stepped out of the shower, his tanned skin contrasted with the white bath towel wrapped around his waist. You bit your lip as you watched him approach you, his eyes never leaving yours. The towel accentuating his muscular physique, you couldn’t help but admire the way his abs flexed as he moved.

"Not done with you, angel. Can't keep my hands off you," he whispered, his voice low and husky. You giggled, a playful glint in your eyes. 

"Okay. Come here, baby. Give me some more of you.” You smirked. Arousal flooding your veins all over again. He grinned, revealing his perfect pearly white teeth. 

“Starting to push the limits here, innit? Endless rounds and rounds, and you keep begging for more.” Jude cooed. He was teasing a bit but you both knew there was a slight undercurrent of irresponsibility in what you were doing.  

“Are you complaining?” You teased moving past any possible practical concern with a raised brow, dropping your own towel off your body. 

“Nah, never. You’re just too fucking good f’me. I could never stop wanting more of you.” His hands moved towards you magnetically, his hands then brushing up and down your sides, making goosebumps rise on your skin. You nodded, already feeling a little breathless. 

"I can't help it. You make me feel so good." You whined with a frown as you reached for Jude’s towel, and with a swift motion, you let it drop to the floor, revealing his hard cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, your mouth watering. He was thick and long, a masterpiece of male anatomy.

"Let me make you feel good again, angel. I want more of you," he growled, his voice filled with desire. You didn't need any more encouragement for things to kick off again. But in opposition to Jude’s ideas you hummed a ‘mmnhmm’ with a cheeky shake of the head. In a quick but smooth succession, you dropped to your knees, your hands reaching out to stroke his length. The skin was hot and silky under your touch, and you could feel a rush of power as you took control. "Oh yeah, baby?" he moaned questioning your decision to take more of him as your fingers wrapped around him. "That's it, take what’s yours." Your fingers moved up and down, teasing the sensitive tip, making Jude's breath catch. You leaned in, your lips brushing against the head of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum that glistens there. "Fuck, YN," he groans. "Your mouth... I need it." Jude was a mess. Neither of you could be satiated lately, and he, right now, was proving just that and thankfully, you didn't need to be told twice. With a sultry smile, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, savoring the taste of him. Jude's hands dove into your hair, gripping gently as he encouraged you to take more of him. "That's it, suck me off, angel," he pants. "Deeper, baby, let me feel you." You obliged, taking him deeper, your throat opening to accommodate his girth. Your eyes watered slightly, but the pleasure on Jude's face kept you going. His moans filling the room. You knew exactly how Jude liked head by this point in your relationship. It was almost down to a silence. As you sucked and stroked, Jude's hips began to thrust gently, meeting your mouth with each forward motion. The wet sounds of pleasure filled the bathroom, mixing with the steam and the scent of sex. "Fuck. I'm gonna cum, Y/N," he warned, his voice tight with restraint. "Fuck.”

"I wan’ it... all of it." You pulled back briefly looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, a string of salvia still connecting you to him. And so moments later, with a final, powerful thrust, Jude came, his hot cum flowed down your throat. You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him, not wanting to waste a drop. He groaned, his body trembling as the orgasm washed over him.

"Fuck, that was so good," he breathed heavily, pulling you up for a deep kiss. You kissed him back, tasting yourself on his lips, and feeling his passion ignite yours.

"Come on, baby. I want more of you still. Bed now," you whispered commandingly against his mouth. Jude's eyes lit up with excitement. He was thrilled you wanted to keep going.  As you entered the bedroom, the soft sheets beckoning, you both knew this was just the beginning of another session. You pushed Jude onto the bed, his back against the headboard, you straddled his waist, your wet pussy already aching for him.

"You wanna ride me," he urged, his hands cupping your tits, thumbs flicking over your sensitive nipples. You leaned forward, your hands on his chest for support as you began to grind your hips, feeling his hard cock slide along your slick folds. Your tits bouncing with each movement, Jude's eyes darkening with desire. "That's it, angel, show me how much you want it," he encouraged, his hands moving down to grip your hips, guiding your movements. You moaned, the sensation of his cock rubbing against your clit drove you wild.  “Tell me how bad you need my cock.” You could feel your pussy throb as he teased you. You begged him to fuck you whimpering. 

“Jude please. Please fuck me. I want you,” you whined causing Jude to smile smugly. He lined his cock up with your entrance but kept you hovering above him, not allowing you to sit down. 

“I know.” He cooed as you sank down. He stretched you perfectly. You breathed slowly as he filled you. He held his same smug grin watching the pleasure on your face. “Such a good girl f’me. Just like that, baby.” He was enjoying watching you but his own feelings had him struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back. As you grinded on him, Jude knew this was a feeling he could never replace. His hands slid up your waist to grip your tits as they bounced with every movement. You leant back, your hands behind you for support, and begin to ride him with purpose, your pussy engulfing his length with each downward thrust.

"Fuck, you feel so good," You whimpered as his hands squeezed your ass, urging you on. The pace quickened, and your moans filled the room as you rode him harder, your pussy clenching around his shaft. Jude's hands move to your thighs, spreading them wider, giving him deeper access.

"That's it, let me feel that tight pussy," he grunted, his own control slipping as he met your downward thrusts with powerful upward strokes. The sensation was incredible, and you could feel your orgasm building, your body trembling with anticipation. Jude's eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense and loving. "Cum for me, angel," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let go, I wanna feel you." He told you. You whimpered, your body tightening as the pleasure peaked. 

"Oh, fuck Jude... I'm..." Your words were lost as your orgasm hit, your pussy convulsing around his cock, milking him as waves of pleasure wash over you. Jude's hips bucked off the bed, driving his cock somehow deeper inside you as he came with a roar, filling you with his hot release this time in a different way. In the aftermath, you collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips trailing kisses along your neck.

"I love you so much angel," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration. "You're my everything." You smiled, snuggling closer, feeling the warmth of his body and the wetness between your thighs. 

"I love you Jude. This...  was…we... are so good at that." You giggled, hiding your face. He hummed in agreement kissing your hair

And so as it goes, life was good all until it wasn’t. All it took was one tweet. 

‘All I’m saying is since that girl showed up Jude Bellingham has been shite. Save some energy for the games, mate.’

It felt like you’d read this exact tweet hundreds of times but apparently this one carried firepower and it brewed a whole debate online, for weeks. And so it was declared Jude’s form had been off—at least, that’s what everyone was saying. The press, the fans, the analysts. And somehow, as ridiculous as it sounded, you were the one they blamed. You’d become a convenient story for them, something to latch onto when the statistics didn’t add up the way they wanted. Even the most reputable pundits asking if his personal life or is the spotlight affecting him. Sure, Jude had been playing well, but his goals and assists were down compared to last season, and people needed someone to point fingers at. The narrative spun out of control in the way only a media frenzy could. It wasn’t new to you. But somehow, this time it stung a little more. You didn’t like that people were being rude to your Jude. It made you sad. You didn’t want to inflict that type of hurt on him and so… you hide. Tonight, you were at the Bernabéu. You’d come early, as usual, trying to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible. The stadium was slowly filling with fans, the energy building in that electric way it always did before kickoff. The roar of the crowd was still a murmur at this stage, the steady hum of anticipation floating through the air. You found your spot far in the back of the box, standing as you always did, eyes squinting to make out the figures of the players warming up on the pitch below. From here, Jude was just another one of the players, moving through his drills, stretching, shaking off the tension that always seemed to cling to the start of a game. This had become your routine, this quiet, removed place where you could watch without the weight of all those eyes on you. In a way, it was your safe zone—a place where you could feel present for Jude but shielded from the noise. From the stories. From the judgment. You shifted on your feet, feeling the cool metal railing beneath your hands as you leaned forward just slightly, trying to focus on Jude and not the knot in your stomach. It was hard to ignore the things people said sometimes, even when you knew they weren’t true. But before you could sink too deep into your thoughts, you felt a hand on your arm. Firm but gentle, the touch snapped you back to reality. You turned to see Denise standing there, her expression sharp but filled with concern. She didn’t say anything at first, just pulled you slightly toward her, her grip softening as she looked you in the eye.

“Hun…enough,” she finally said, her voice low but carrying the weight of everything unsaid. “You are not here for them. You’re here to support Jude. And you can’t do that from back here.” You blinked, trying to find a response, but nothing came. Denise didn’t wait for you to argue. She grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the front of the box, toward the seats you’d been avoiding. There was no point resisting; when Denise had made up her mind about something, it was best to just go along with it. And truthfully, you knew she was right. She sat you down next to her, her hand never leaving yours as if she knew you needed the grounding. Her tone softened, the edge replaced by something warmer, more maternal. She was incredibly sweet with you but you knew she’d always been tough, protective in her own way, and over time she had come to treat you like one of her own, the toughness included. You could feel that in moments like this. “Do you know the surname on your back?” she asked, her gaze steady. You looked at her, caught off guard by the question, but you nodded. Of course, you did. You wore that name every time you stepped into this stadium, whether or not you realized it. “You’re either part of this family or not. You decide.” She said it bluntly but you knew it wasn’t meant as a threat but as a reminder. Still, her words struck a chord deep inside you. You were part of this family—Jude’s family, but also this team, this life. You hadn’t chosen the spotlight, but it came with the territory, and Denise was reminding you of that in the most direct way possible. This wasn’t about the press, or the stories people told, or the numbers on a scoreboard. It was about standing beside Jude, even when things felt overwhelming. You couldn’t help but smile at her. It was a small, grateful smile, one that said more than words could. Denise nodded, satisfied, before she wrapped her arm around you, pulling you close in that protective, motherly way she had. She kissed your temple softly, a quiet show of affection that made you feel both cared for and understood.  As you settled into the seat, you felt the weight of a few eyes turning toward you. People noticed, of course they did. In this world, you were never truly invisible. The whispers and glances might come, but sitting here now, next to Denise, you realized something: it was okay. Let them look, let them whisper. You weren’t here for them. You were here for Jude. You straightened up a little, your back pressing firmly against the seat as the crowd roared louder, signaling the match was about to begin. The tension in your chest eased ever so slightly as the players lined up on the field. You could see Jude now, clear as day, and for the first time tonight, you didn’t feel the need to hide. This was where you belonged, and it would have to be enough.

Since the series came out, Jude had become, if possible, more clingy with you, though the internet had it all wrong. People assumed that with his fame, his talent, and the endless attention he received, he didn’t need you to ground him, that he was the star and you were just along for the ride. But in truth, Jude believed he needed you to perform, to thrive on and off the pitch. Jude was struggle despite the fact that he wasn’t playing badly, you both knew that and so did the more seasoned football fans too. But you also both knew the scrutiny was part of the job, but it didn’t make it any easier. Jude was always a target. If he wasn’t scoring or assisting every game, the critics were quick to pounce. It was exhausting, but you had your own ways of supporting him through it all, grounding him when the outside noise became too loud. Jude’s clinginess had always been endearing, even if the public rarely saw it. They had this image of him—self-sufficient, confident, the superstar who didn’t need anyone. But in reality, behind all the headlines and highlight reels, Jude leaned on you more than anyone could guess. He wasn’t shy about it, either. To him, you weren’t just his partner; you were part of his success, his comfort, his why. Every day was a reminder of that, in small ways that meant everything. Your presence had become a part of his routine, the glue that held everything together for him. 

Take this morning. He was mid-set in the gym, his arms straining as he pushed through the reps, sweat dripping down his face. Often, you’d sit on the floor of your home gym while he worked out, chatting away as he powered through reps, his eyes occasionally glancing your way for a quick grin, your words acting like background music to his workout. He swore it helped him focus. He needed you there. Today was no different, you sat on a yoga mat, leaning against the wall, scrolling idly through your phone while chatting with him, explaining some drama Winnie was in. He’d glance over between sets, grinning like a boy who couldn’t get enough of the sound of your voice, as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded during the workout. But sometimes you wouldn’t say anything at all, you’d just watch. Your presence enough for him. 

“You’re staring again,” he muttered teasingly, mid-lift, his breath labored but full of amusement.

“Who says I’m staring?” you shot back with a smirk, not even bothering to deny it.

“I can feel it,” he replied, his lips twitching into a smile as he set the weight down and shook his arms out. “Keeps me going, though.”

And that was just the start. Then, there were the breakfasts you made for him before training.  He’d follow you into the kitchen, waiting as you made him breakfast—his usual, the one you’d perfected over the months. It was always the same, exactly how he liked it. And no matter how many people offered to do it for him—a chef, his mum—he insisted that only your cooking was right. It was part of the ritual, part of his connection to you, and through that, his connection to the game. You once tried to tell him someone else should* handle but Jude had immediately vetoed the idea.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t make it like you do.” It wasn’t just the food. It was you. He was playing well—anyone with a proper eye for the game knew that. He wasn’t putting up these astronomical numbers in goals or assists, but he was solid, consistent, and crucial to the team’s strategy. Still, that didn’t stop the critics from coming for him whenever they could. That kind of pressure could break anyone. But not Jude—not as long as he had you by his side. And you knew he felt that. You could see it in the way he sought you out after games, his eyes scanning the stands, always finding yours, as if that was the moment he could finally exhale. With the international break around the corner, you felt a twinge of relief. It was always an intense period, with Jude off representing England. He was proud to pull on that jersey, but the added strain on his body was undeniable. You’d spent nights massaging the knots out of his back, watching him ice his knees after long stretches of games. He was fit, sure, but the game took its toll, and you could see the wear in moments of quiet, when he finally let down the walls. Still, the two of you were eagerly looking forward to this particular break for one reason: the draw. England versus France. The very idea of it lit a spark in both of you, not just for the magnitude of the match, but for everything it represented. Paris wasn’t just another city for you—it was a place loaded with history, with meaning. This international break there was something extra to look forward to. The two of you had been eagerly anticipating the draw, and now it was official. The game would be at that little old place on Rue du Commandant Guilbaud, Parc des Princes in Paris. December would bring cold air and frosty breaths, the perfect atmosphere for a match that was sure to be icy with tension between the two countries. The history, the rivalry, it all made the stakes feel even higher. You could already imagine it—friends and family in the stands, the energy electric, your heart racing as you pulled on Jude’s England jersey, feeling the weight of it, the pride, the love, but slight fear because you knew Louis was going to kill you when he saw you in the kit.  You grew up going to Parc des Princes but you hadn’t been in ages. The nostalgia was already pulling at your heartstrings, memories of the city swirling in your mind. But more than anything, you were excited to be there for him. To stand in the cold Parisian air, bundled up, but warm with pride as Jude stepped onto that familiar pitch, surrounded by tension and anticipation. This wasn’t just another match. It felt bigger, more meaningful. For Jude, for you. And you couldn’t wait to be there, standing by him as always, ready to watch him shine, knowing that no matter what, you were part of his every win, every challenge, every moment.

“oh mon Dieu. I’m so so so excited, baby,” you said one night seeing the fixture announced on Instagram as you curled up beside Jude on the couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder. “Feels like ages since we’ve been in Paris together.” You smiled jumping over your last Parisian memories with Whitney and instead skipping to recall better times with Jude.  He smiled, pulling you closer. 

“Feels like ages since we’ve done anything that wasn’t football-related.” He cheekily smiled a little annoyed at the fact that you were going for his work but also eagerly anticipating what was going to happen on this trip.  

“You’re not wrong,” you agreed, letting your fingers trace small circles on his chest. “But this match… Jude, it’s sweet. It’s like us..” You smile. His expression softened, a mix of pride and excitement. The darkness of the room wrapped around you both like a cocoon. “England versus France. December in Paris. The crowd, the atmosphere…” Jude’s hand slid across your waist, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. You smiled against his skin, your heart full.

“Big weekend, innit?” He smiled but his heart was pounding.  His voice was a soft rumble in the quiet of the room. You nodded none the wiser. He had plans for that weekend and he was stressed about much more than the game. “And my angel will be there f’me. Wearing my shirt, hmm?” He cooed, kissing your hair a few times.  You laughed, nudging him playfully. 

“Of course, likely freezing my ass off but I wouldn’t miss a chance to see my favorite player in the world. I’ll even brave the Parisian winter for it.” You giggled. 

“Such a martyr,” he teased, kissing the top of your head.

“I cant’t wait to see Kylian play, Aurel and Cama too, you know?” You giggled and Jude kissed his teeth. 

“Honestly. Just so rude. Can’t wear my kit anymore. Get one of your little French boys to give you a jersey.” He feigned offense. You kissed his neck with a giggled, squeezing him in a bone crushing cuddle. It was all in good humor because the truth was, you’d do anything for him, and he knew it even beat your own heritage. The match itself was already steeped in tension—the rivalry between England and France, the history, the weight of national pride.  The Parc des Princes had always held a special place for you but this time, it wasn’t just about the past. It was about now. It was about Jude, about watching him in the jersey that meant the world to him, feeling the weight of his name on your back as you stood in the crowd. There was something magical about it, something that felt different from all the other matches. Maybe it was the nostalgia of Paris, or maybe it was the fact that after all the scrutiny and pressure, this match felt like an opportunity for Jude to remind everyone who he was. And you’d be there, as you always were, bundled up in the cold, feeling every ounce of pride and love for the man who had your heart. Jude might have been the star, the one everyone watched, but the truth was, the game—his game—wasn’t the same without you.

With the break fast approaching you were worried about Jude’s body, more now than ever before. The season was relentless—game after game, with no real break in sight, and every added match meant another 90-plus minutes of strain on his already taxed muscles and joints. His shoulder, his ankle, his knee… they all weighed heavily on your mind. The problem was, Jude would never admit if something wasn’t right. He always brushed off your concerns, telling you he was fine, that it was just part of the game. But you could see it—the subtle winces when he stood too quickly, the extra time he took to stretch in the mornings, the way he sometimes favored one leg over the other when he thought you weren’t looking. And yet, lately, it wasn’t just Jude’s physical state that had you worried. There was something going on with you too. You felt so achy, this unfamiliar heaviness lingering in your limbs. By the afternoons, your energy was completely drained, leaving you groggy and fighting to keep your eyes open. And then there was your body. You’d been brushing it off for weeks, but you couldn’t ignore it anymore—your jeans didn’t fit quite right, not like they used to. They were tighter around your waist, your hips, and no matter how many times you told yourself it was just bloating or stress, the little voice in the back of your mind whispered something different. It was the reason why that trip upstairs at 9 p.m. to get your birth control had suddenly become so important again. For weeks, you’d been a little careless, caught up in the whirlwind of life with Jude, in the physical intensity of your relationship. It had been too easy to forget, to prioritize the comfort of cuddling on the couch over getting up and grabbing the pill. But now, you couldn’t brush it off. You couldn’t let it slip for one more night.  The problem was, the thought that had been creeping into the edges of your mind—the one that you were now terrified to even entertain—scared you. It was a fear you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge, let alone say out loud. Because if you did… what then? You sat on the couch beside Jude that night, your head resting against his shoulder as he scrolled through his phone, oblivious to the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. His body was warm and steady against you, his presence always a source of comfort. But tonight, comfort felt elusive. Your thoughts kept drifting back to how off you’d felt lately, how your body seemed to be betraying you, sending you signals you weren’t ready to interpret. You knew you needed to make that walk upstairs to your nightstand, to pop that tiny pill and push the thought out of your mind. But for the first time in weeks, you weren’t sure if it was already too late.

“Everything okay in there, angel? You’ve been quiet tonight.” Jude’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, pulling you back to the present. His finger coming to tap on your temple gently but teasingly.  You forced a smile, looking up at him. 

“Yeah, just tired, that’s all.” You admitted a half truth. He kissed your temple where his fingers were, his lips lingering there for a moment, his breath warm against your skin. 

“You sure? You’ve seemed off lately.” Your heart skipped a beat at how easily he could read you, even when you weren’t ready to admit anything. You nodded, not trusting yourself to say much more. Jude was already dealing with so much—his body, the pressure of the season, the upcoming international matches. The last thing you wanted to do was add to his stress. But as you sat there, wrapped up in his warmth, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. Something was happening. You just weren’t sure what it was yet. And that terrified you more than anything. The night was quiet, the soft hum of the television the only sound filling the room as you cuddled into Jude’s side. After the international break games had been announced, Paris—Parc des Princes—was where Jude’s thoughts had been circling for days. He was focused on upcoming fixtures but also what was meant to happen outside of those match days.  You could feel his excitement simmering just beneath the surface, even if tonight, he was calm, content just being there with you. As you shifted, settling deeper into the couch, Jude’s voice cut through the stillness again. 

“I was thinking,” he began, his tone thoughtful but easy. “Do you think your dad would want to come to the match? I’d really like to invite him.” Jude cooed.  You blinked, surprised. 

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that. I can tell him—” You cooed almost instinctively, it was sweet but you were not really thinking about it much. Jude gently placed a hand on your arm, stopping you mid-sentence. 

“Nah, angel.” he said softly but firmly. “I mean I want to invite him myself.” His words hung in the air, and you pulled back slightly, sitting up, studying his face. There was something deeper in his request, something more personal than just an invitation to watch him play. For a second, you felt touched by how important it was to him. But then, like a wave crashing over you, the thought hit hard: What if something’s wrong? Your mind started to spiral. All the little signs—the achiness, the strange grogginess, the tightness of your jeans—they all seemed to be pointing in one direction, a direction you weren’t ready to consider. What if… you were… no surely not. The thought made your stomach churn. You suddenly felt a bit sick, not from any physical symptom, but from the sheer weight of the possibility. Seeing your family, especially in Paris, suddenly felt like a mountain you weren’t ready to climb. You pictured sitting across from them, the warmth of wine glasses being passed around, the ease with which they would pour you a glass without question. In your family, wine wasn’t just a drink—it was tradition, hospitality, connection. Refusing a glass would raise eyebrows. They’d notice, they’d ask questions, and how would you explain that? You couldn’t decide which option was worse: taking a test and confirming your fears, or sitting through a meal with your family, knowing you might be hiding something so monumental. “Angel?” You must’ve gone quiet for too long because Jude’s brow furrowed in concern.  You nodded quickly, trying to shake off the dizziness of your thoughts. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I’m fine. Just thinking.” You forced a smile, still trying to process his request. “It’s sweet, Jude, but… You don’t have to do all that, why do you want to ask him yourself?” Jude didn’t hesitate. He looked at you with the kind of sincerity that always made your heart skip a beat. 

“It’s a big deal for me to have people at my games and not just there as spectators but I want them there as family, as friends. Your dad… he’s important to you, so he’s important to me. I’d love for him to be there as someone I invited, someone who’s part of my or our world.” His words softened the edges of your anxiety for a moment, his thoughtfulness tugging at something deep inside you. You knew your dad would appreciate that gesture. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to use his name or status to get into fancy places. He didn’t care for the fuss of hospitality suites or special treatment. What he cared about was connection—being present, being part of something real. And here Jude was, offering exactly that. Although your dad was a man of comfort and luxury so you knew he wouldn’t complain in Jude’s box either. 

“He’d love that, Jude. Really, baby.” You smiled, this time genuinely. Jude’s eyes lit up, clearly pleased. He reached out, gently pulling you back down into his arms, your head finding its familiar spot against his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple, a steadying presence as always. The warmth of his body, the rhythm of his breathing—it was enough to slow the racing of your thoughts, if only for a moment. As you lay there, your mind couldn’t help but return to the nagging possibility of what might be happening with your body. You tried to push it down, tried to focus on the feeling of Jude’s arm around you, the comfort of his presence. But it was hard to ignore. Every day, it seemed more likely that you were dealing with something much bigger than just fatigue or stress. You had brushed it off for so long, but now, sitting here with Jude, your thoughts swirling, you realized how scared you really were. And yet, in this moment, with Jude holding you close, something shifted. His kiss against your temple, the way his hand rested protectively on your side—it all steadied your heart. Maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be so terrifying. Maybe if Jude was by your side, and if your family was there too, it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. The idea of facing whatever was coming with both of them by your side suddenly didn’t feel so impossible. As Jude’s breathing slowed, and you realized he was drifting off to sleep, you stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling. The thought of Paris loomed ahead, the cold December air, the intensity of the match, the weight of what might be happening with your body. But maybe, just maybe, if you had Jude and your dad there with you, it would all be okay. Eventually, you let yourself relax into Jude’s arms, closing your eyes, telling yourself that whatever was coming, you wouldn’t face it alone. Maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

You leaned against the counter, watching Jude pace around the kitchen, phone in hand, looking every bit as anxious as someone about to make the biggest business deal of their life. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Jude, are you seriously this nervous to call my dad? You’ve known him for how long now?” You giggled. 

“It’s different this time. You don’t get it, alright?” Jude stopped, glancing at you with a look of half-embarrassment, half-whining. 

“Oh, I get it,” you teased, folding your arms. “You’re about to ask him to a football match, not pitch for a place on the team.” He groaned, running a hand over his hair, the nerves clearly getting to him. 

“Angel, seriously,” he whined, “don’t make fun. This is… important.” He glanced at you. You weren’t sure why this was such a big deal to him. Like just ask him to the game? Simple as. So you raised an eyebrow. 

“Important? Jude, you’ve invited people to games before.” You explained dropping a bit of the humor and inquiring a bit more genuinely. 

“Yeah, but this is different.” He shot you a look and mumbled. You could see that he was genuinely stressed, and that only made your curiosity grow. 

“Different how?” you asked, stepping closer, playful but also wondering what had him so rattled. “Are you planning something secret?” You teased and Jude’s breath caught momentarily in fear you knew why this was a bigger deal until he let out a frustrated sigh, cheeks turning a little red as he waved you off. 

“I’m calling him,” he muttered, “but I need to do it in private. You’re making me nervous.” He told you sheepishly with a childish pout. But that word made you pause. 

“Private? Why?” You asked. He shot you an almost panicked glance and headed for the door. 

“Because you can’t hear this,” he called over his shoulder, already making a break for the living room. “Don’t listen in!” You blinked, watching him retreat. What on earth was going on. Jude closed the door behind him, breathing out heavily as he looked down at his phone again, preparing himself. This wasn’t just about inviting your dad to the game—that part was easy. It was about the real reason he wanted to meet him before the match. He needed to ask your dad something far more important, something that had been weighing on his mind for ages now. He knew how much your family meant to you, and he wanted to do this right. He wanted your dad’s blessing before asking you the biggest question of his life, your life. Jude’s hand hovered over your dad’s contact before he hit the call button, exhaling deeply as he heard the line ring.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 23 - The Right Time xx

[by-wronged-hands]

What a good boy you are…

(Thomas Hewitt x M! Reader)

Warnings: smut, insults

DISCLAIMER: This scene is from Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, but Bubba Sawyer is replaced by Thomas Hewitt in this story.

It was a quiet night in K-OKLA’s office. Dark alleys were covered by the light of an almost full moon. No noises disturbed the silence. Regardless of this, you could not help but be worried. Half an hour ago, you had played the recording of a supposed murder by a killer who disappeared 14 years ago.

Your heart raced when a strange silhouette roamed around the lower room of the office. Cracking the door open, you were met by an eerie looking man. He begged for an autograph, a tour, songs, and hundreds of other things your mind wasn’t able to catch. Trying your best to push him away, his feet moved him closer.

Finally, you were both standing in front of a small closet. Inside, there were nothing more than countless vinyl records. Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

Seconds after he referred to them, a horrifying motor-like sound skyrocketed your fear. Almost losing your life to a chainsaw, you ran with every ounce of strength left in you after a tiring day. The adrenaline dragged your body to safety, immediately blocking the way with a resistant metal wall.

“Get that motherfucker, Leatherface!” The strange man from before yelled.

Metal against metal, a cacophony stirred between that irritating crash and your screams. Your throat felt as if it was burning away, with each screech full of fright.

Suddenly, the silence made its way back to you. Not for long, though. The wall on your left was brought down, and you recognized the sound of the chainsaw.

Taking a closer look to the man who held it, his long hair danced at every movement. His rough grip made you wonder how his fingertips would feel against your skin. His staggering height was highly intimidating. Yet, as soon as your eyes were set on his body, your terror began twisting into something else.

Something gut wrenching—you were bewitched by his size.

“Please…” you began speaking with no hesitation, “show me how good you can be”.

His chainsaw, which was now steady, began lowering. His eyes studied your body, seemingly curious. A barely audible huff left his lips.

“How good can you be? Huh?” You began teasing him.

A part of you wished to survive, but another part wished to see how far you could take this wicked arousement of yours. Thankfully, he began playing along.

You spread open your legs, and your hands travelled up your thighs. He followed closely with his gaze. At this point, every action of yours was careless. You allowed your lust to take control.

After staring for long enough, Leatherface took the blade of his chainsaw closer. Tracing the way from your ankle to your inner thigh, he stopped himself on top of your crotch. Putting pressure on it, your hips began rocking forward softly.

“Oh—you’re very good” you moaned under your breath to not alert the killer next door. Leatherface, visibly flustered, moved one of his hands away from the chainsaw handle. It was laid on top of his pants, which made you notice his growth.

Before he continued, he backed away. The man went into a spontaneous rampage, destroying the studio until nothing was left. You abstained from screaming.

He looked back at you for a second, and you caught a glimpse of his hunger. He then walked to his companion, and both crossed the exit. You could’ve sworn it was the end, and you were left with a problem to take care of, but he came right back.

He clumsily walked inside, and while leaning on a door frame, he grunted in discomfort. A cocky smile was shown from your side. You opened your legs once more, but this time he threw his weapon out of the way.

“What a good boy you are…come on”

He approached you in a rather awkward manner—a shy killer, who would’ve guessed?

You were desperate for his touch, and decided to walk over to him. You pushed him down onto a chair, and stood between his open legs. With a knee on his erection, you kissed him. Waiting for his permission to slide your tongue inside his mouth, your hands caressed him.

Every time you tried taking a slight peek at his face, he would either turn his head around or shove your face back in place.

His hands wrapped around your hips, pulling down on your knee.

“Should I call you Leatherface?” You said, between warm kisses. “Or, will you give me a proper name to moan?”

He grunted, and his grip became weaker. “Thomas…” he rushed out of his mouth. You went on to kiss his neck, also guiding his hand towards your little problem down there. The temperature rose between you two.

It was mostly you who initiated anything. Even opening his pants, or taking any clothing off of yourself.

“Can I see what’s under that mask of yours, big boy?” You were straightforward, yet you felt anxious to ask such a thing. He stiffened up a bit. Your hand held his cheek with delicacy, and his muscles once more eased.

Moments after, he allowed you to take a look at his face. His eyes ran away from yours, ashamed to confront your reaction. But, to his liking, your body only craved him more. As your knees touched the floor, you prepared your tongue for him.

“You’re still precious to me, Thomas.” His expression showed surprise, embarrassment too. “You…are so beautiful”.

Your mouth wrapped around him, fitting perfectly. Both craved the touch of another being, the love of another heart. He had sparked interest within your chest.

“I won’t be letting you go soon,” you said, cutting off his moans. You knew it wouldn’t be the last time you explored his body.

[jclolz22]

i belong with you — tashi duncan

tashi duncan x fem!reader word count: 1.4k

author's note: please pretend the last picture isn't two white girls, and i’m sorry if this writing isn’t up to par, because i’ve never really written like this before so the bar is low... also thank you to annie for this idea/request; i love your brain

After an intense match against UCLA and a particularly grueling week filled with practice, practice, and more practice, Tashi was more than happy to get back to her dorm. It’s tough being Stanford’s star tennis player, regardless of how easy she makes it seem. Seeing you there waiting for her made her even happier and grateful that her week was over, so she could finally rest, decompress, and destress with you. “Hey, baby,” you started saying to her as you watched her place her tennis bag down next to her desk. Her fatigue made her even more glad to see you. 

“Hey. I am absolutely exhausted,” she tells you as she sits down in between your spread legs on the floor, her back pressed up against your chest. She couldn’t help but let out a content sigh as you gently ran your hands up and down her arms.

Though, she was a little confused as to how you managed to get into her room. “Wait… how’d you even get in here?” You laugh at her obliviousness, and tell her “I may or may not have managed to snag your key this morning. You’re telling me you didn’t realize your door was unlocked when you came in here just now?”

Tashi sits up, creating a small space between the two of you, and she turns her head to look back at you. “Um, no? I didn’t even think about that, honestly. You know how busy I’ve been this week.” You nod, acknowledging the week she’s had and how tiring it’s been for her. “I know, babe, I know. I just find it a bit funny, is all.” 

You pull on her hair tie, making sure to be gentle while letting her curls free from the ponytail they were just in. She turns her head to face forward again, and lets you run your hands through them before separating her hair into three equal parts to braid it. It’s no shock to you that Tashi enjoys the feeling, and the fact that you’re always so careful and tender makes it even better.

“Wanna hear what happened to me yesterday?” You figure that talking about something that happened to you could maybe make her feel less stressed and get her mind off her weariness for a little bit. She lets out an “Mhm,” and you start to tell her your story as you bring each section of hair over one another to make the braid. “Alright, so I had to stay after class yesterday to talk to my professor, and she asked me like, the funniest and stupidest question. And it was the old one, y’know, for my writing class.” Now she’s more intrigued, because what kind of question could your professor ask you that’s funny and stupid? She knows who you’re talking about, though, and she has a little bit of a suspicion. “What’d she ask you?”

You laughed and continued to braid her hair. “Remember how she saw us kiss last week?” “Yeah,” she says and you carry on with your story. “Well, she first told me that she really liked my last paper, and then asked me if you were my ‘best friend!’” 

You think back to that moment, and you remember how you couldn’t contain your laughter. You literally laughed in your professor’s face after she asked you that. Maybe it was a little rude, but you weren’t expecting her to ask you something about your personal life, nor were you expecting her to totally deny the fact that you’re dating Tashi. 

“Uhm… no, Dr. Clark, she’s not my best friend. She’s my girlfriend, actually.” You told her after your laughter ceased. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to offend. So you and Tashi, you’re… girlfriends?” She sounded a bit confused, and you could tell that she hadn’t actually had ill intentions. “Yes, ma’am, we are. Actual girlfriends, not just ‘best friends’ or ‘girls who are friends.’” A look of realization dawned on her face, and she apologized again. “I see. Well, I do apologize, again. Truly, I didn’t mean to be rude. I hope you can forgive my ignorance.” And you did. It was a misunderstanding, and you knew that you shouldn’t hold a grudge against her for growing up in a different time period when she didn’t have control over it. 

“Are you being serious? She asked if we’re best friends?” Tashi’s voice is even, but you get the feeling that it’s teetering on upset. “I mean, yeah, she did ask that, but obviously I told her you’re my girlfriend. Like, my actual girlfriend. And besides, she was just a little confused. You know she’s all old and… senile, I guess. She didn’t actually mean any harm; I cleared up any confusion she had.” You had to make sure Tashi knew that, or else she’d want to have a word with your professor. “But she basically ignored the fact that we’re dating,” she starts, but you quickly stop her. 

“Look, I get how it sounds, but it’s not like that, okay? She really just didn’t understand, and I helped her. It’s fine, Tash. She grew up in a way different time, it’s not her fault.” She sighed quietly and agreed, calming down to let you finish. 

“I’m proud of you, y’know. For winning today.” You say softly to her, changing the subject. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s smiling. “I do know, actually. You always remind me. But thank you.” And by the sound of her voice, she is happy and flattered.

As soon as you finished braiding her hair, you placed delicate kisses along the exposed skin of her left shoulder, leading up to her neck and the spot right under her ear that gets a small shiver out of her every time. “Come on, wanna read The Great Gatsby again?”

“Yeah, sure.” Tashi turns her head back to kiss your cheek before standing up and holding her hand out for you to take. You place your hand in hers and stand up too, grabbing the book from her shelf and reminiscing a bit when you see how beat up it is, and thinking about how many annotations there are in the margins from the numerous times you two took turns reading it individually before you’d read it together.

She’s already laying down, head propped up on a pillow. You smile at the sight, this beautiful girl before you, and the fact that she’s yours. “You look pretty comfy there, don’t ya.” You send a wink her way and you love the giggle it gets out of her. You’ll never tire of hearing it; never tire of her. 

“C’mere,” she starts, and you can’t help but oblige. After handing her the book, you climb onto the bed and cuddle up close to her, laying your head on her other pillow. “This is one of my favorites. And you can’t lie, I know it’s one of yours, too.” She laughs a bit, before saying “Well I wasn’t going to say anything to refute that.” 

“Sure you weren’t. I know how stubborn you are, Tashi. You like to argue just for the sake of arguing.” Now she’s rolling her eyes, which is very Tashi of her. “How about you just shut up and read the book already. Please?” She lifts her head up and you see the pout forming. She then peppers kisses all over your face, trying to butter you up. You, being the weak woman you are, can’t stop yourself from giving in and starting the first chapter. 

“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. ‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’”

As you continue reading through the chapter, with Tashi’s head resting on your shoulder and her body pressed up against yours under the covers, you can’t help but think about everything that’s led to this moment. Even something so small, like re-reading one of your shared favorite books, is meaningful and special.

Tashi feels the same way, even though she won’t admit it. Not yet, anyway. And she’s always known that she belongs on the tennis court. It’s ingrained in her, practically since the day she departed from her mother’s womb. But in her heart, she also knows that she belongs with you. Nothing and no one can ever change that.

[rizykim]

Kisses || Choi San

Pairing: Workaholic!Sam × You

Summary: It's been a few weeks since you and San could finally settled down for some quality time together since he was so busy with work. You couldn't stop but to admire him after sneaking a peak at him working. His irresistible charms still stood regardless of what he was doing and you just had to go over and give a small peck on the cheek.

Warning: Fluff

Wordcount: 1K

Note: Instead of 'Y/n' it'll be '___' for you enter your name and this my first time writing oneshot fluff and if you did enjoy please do leave a like and repost if you can,it would help alot!

It had been an hour and a half since San entered his study room right after he came back home. Longingly giving ___ a comforting hug and a long kiss before unwillingly pulling away, informing her of the intermediate work task he has at hand to finish and turn in before he could relax. He himself was upset with leaving her lovely girlfriend to stay alone longer, but her supportive words made him want to wrap up everything as quick as possible before he went back to being with her.

The occasional soft clicking of the keyboard being the only source of noise in the emptyly dim hallway leading to his office. The door was wide open, giving her permission to enter anytime she wanted. San himself has repeated that she can interrupt his work without the need of being hesitant; he wanted to let her know that she's his priority over everything else.

___ tiptoed her way towards the unshut door, standing near the doorframe, and peeked inside to see her woraholic boyfriend scribbling something in his grey leather notebook. The small light on his desk was flooding his work space and lighting his face. A serious expression contoured on his perfectly sculpted features. He was still in his work attire. The only thing that was off his fine body was his raven black blazer that rested on top of the couch at the side. His waistcoat still hugged his torso over his white shirt. The fabric around his arms rolled up to his elbows for more access to move. His hair was partly disheveled, the shiny locks framing over his profile.

A small smile spread across her lips at the sight, her heart beating warmly inside her chest. Her eyes scanned every detail of the man she could call as for herself. From the way his arm flexes to his focus stare on his task. She had the urge to just go and wrap her arms around his neck and pepper kisses his pretty face for how much she loves him. She knows and appreciates how hard he works and still makes time to keep her happy and smiling. She can't thank him enough for the effort he puts into their relationship.

Suddenly, she was conscious of the scent that lingered on her body that came from the source of material that was on her. She was wearing one of his dress shirts as well. Her shoulders were smaller than his and slumped over hers. The sleeves covered all the way down to her fingers, with much space in the arms for coziness. The white fabric ended at her thighs,enclosing her in the warmth of him even if he wasn't there. The soft smell of his scent was enough to calm her instantly without a single worry in mind. She snacked her arms around her torso to bring the shirt closer to her small frame. Her eyes were still glued to his figure.

The more she watched him silently, the more she felt the urge to steal his attention and make him shift his focus to her. But she had to resist her selfish thoughts. As much as she missed him the whole day, she didn't want to disturb him.

"Yes love?" She shot up at the unexpected voice calling out to her. He was still on his book, writing something down before looking at her. "Anything wrong?" He was sounding a little worried.

"H-huh? Oh no...no no...sorry." She giggled, leaning her cheek on the wooden frame. He smiled at her softly and responded, "I'll be done soon, okay? Then I'll get back to you, sweetheart." His way with words never entirely seeped in to her. It still had a way of making her heart flutter and feel all giddy. She nodded her head as he smiled once more before going back to his work.

Her eyes went down to staring at his pretty pink lips. The vision of kissing them flashed through her mind. The way he pursed his lips from time to time with concentration. It sort of looked cute at the same time, so attractive. She couldn't help it anymore and let her intrusive thoughts win.

She walked into the room, her bare feet against the cold tiled floors, striding towards his desk. He still had his eyes on work. She had her hands connected behind her back, waddling to his side with a cheeky smile. She then bent down and gave a quick peck to his cute lips before standing back up straight again. A grin beaming on her face as she swayed her body side to side.

A smile made its way up San's face as well, his eyes creasing as he turned to her, looking up at his sweet girlfriend. Before he could say anything, she spread her arms wide open, inviting him for a hug. He dropped his pen on the table, twirled his chair in her direction, and wrapped his strong and firm arms around her waist while hers encircled his neck. Pulling her onto his lap. Both of their eyes closed at the sensation of feeling each other's bodies against theirs in solance.

He tightened his hold on her, feeling her closely along with the rhythm of her breaths. His hand traveled up to her head, caressing her hair softly and kissing her cheek before resting his head against hers again.

"I missed you," she murmured into her shoulder. The fragrance of his cologne wafted stronger than that of her shirt as she inhaled sharply.

"I missed you more, love," he cooed, pressing another kiss to the side of her face. His thumb is slowly rubbing on the clothed skin of her waist.

She giggled softly, hiding her face further on his neck as silence settled between them. It wasn't awkward but calming and relaxing. It felt much needed after missing each other's embrace for what felt like ages. They did get to spend time together at the end of the day, but not for long as one or the other would slowly drift off into a slumber from tiredness.

The moment just felt so right and soothing that none of them wanted to ruin it by moving or saying anything, but ___ realized that he still wasn't finished with work.

"Oh right, you have work." She voiced out, trying to get off him, but he refused to let go,pouting his lips slightly, "No, don't go." He whined, making ___ chuckle at him for how his cold and stern aura from a few minutes quickly transited to a cute and soft one.

"But, babe, you have work to do." She reasoned, holding his neck in-between her hands, "It's almost over, so stay with me." He wasn't letting her go any sooner or later, that's for sure.

"Hmm, she acted as if she were thinking, tapping her index finger at her cheek and looking away momentarily. "What will I get in return for staying?"

"What do you want?" He blinked his shiny eyes, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he eagerly waited to hear what his girlfriend was about to suggest.

"Mm, what bout...a kiss?" Her lips tugged upwards with a giggle, to which he did the same. The vibrations of his laughter shaking his chest.

"Of course, my love, why would I object? Come here," he said, pulling her close by bringing in her by holding the back of her neck gently. His lips instantly lapped on hers. Enveloping her in a sweet and tender kiss. Their lips moving in sync as their eyes shut themselves to sink into the moment. San pushed the chair forward, trapping her between the table and him. His big shoulders almost enclosing her small frame as his strong arms keep her secured in place.

Her delicate hands encircled around his broad shoulder blades, the warmth of his body seeping into hers regardless of the layers of fabric barring them. The cozy feeling made her whole body melt into his, not wanting to even lift a single finger and letting him just make her mind empty of any thoughts with just his gentle kisses.

After a brief moment, they pulled away, but his wet lips moved over to her jaw, down her neck, and to her collarbones. Peppering the soft texture with his fluttery pecks. She giggled, loving the feeling as always.

"Mm, I missed you so much." His voice vibrated against her skin,still leaving trails of his smooches all over her. "I hate how work's got me busy from attending my sweetheart."

___ smiled at the familiar name, her hand caressing his thick black locks before pulling him up to look at him eye to eye. Her ones poured in every ounce of her love into her sight as he did the same with no less affection.

She wasn't intending to say anything, just wishing to have a small moment starring at him lovingly when he suddenly mumbles "I love you" with the sweetest and most heartwarming smile. His thumb running circles and shapes over the skin of her thigh.

She pecked his lips in response and spoke, "I love you too, San." She smiled contently before going in for another hug.