#she finally has her little hair strand in her face again!!!!!

[starsjulia]

16 going on 28 // leah williamson

a/n : so sorry about my month long hiatus, but i am back!!! and i’ve got you guys some leah x gobby!reader but reader is now carrying leah’s baby! pls let me know if you’d like a part two because i deeply enjoyed writing this one.

warnings : suggestive, pregnancy, reader being a shitbag, and this is so cute i almost cried beavyse i am so single

“We’ve got a problem,” you announce gravely.

Leah groans, face buried back into the pillow. “If this is about the toast being too crispy again—”

“It’s burnt, Leah. There’s a difference.”

Leah peeks at you, a smirk creeping across her face. “You literally asked for it ‘extra golden.’”

“That’s not the same as setting it on fire, is it?” You huff, waddling dramatically back towards the kitchen, belly leading the way. “Honestly, it’s like living with a pyromaniac.”

Leah finally drags herself out of bed, following the trail of muttered complaints. She wraps her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Morning, love,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

You try to maintain the façade of being very cross, but your face betrays you, lips twitching.

“Don’t think you can seduce me out of my rage, Williamson.”

“Oh, I definitely can,” she murmurs, kissing the spot behind your ear—the spot she knows drives you mad.

You shiver despite yourself, turning in her arms. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

“God, it’s embarrassing how right you are.”

After training, the team lounges around, trying to relax. You waddle into the room, plopping down next to Leah with an exaggerated sigh.

“Leah,” you announce dramatically, “your child is ruining my life.”

Leah doesn’t even look up from her phone. “You mean our child.”

“No, because my child would’ve had better manners.” You rub your belly with mock disapproval. “This one’s clearly yours—rude as hell, keeping me up all night.”

The team snickers, already used to your daily monologues of suffering.

Beth pipes up, grinning, “Didn’t you literally say yesterday that you ‘loved being pregnant’?”

“That was before I sneezed and peed a little, Beth.”

The room erupts into laughter. Leah finally looks up, shaking her head with a fond smile. She reaches over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re beautiful when you’re ranting.”

You squint at her. “I’m beautiful all the time, but thanks for noticing.”

Leah leans in, her voice low. “Especially when you’re moaning.”

The room goes silent.

“OH MY GOD,” Viv groans, covering her face with her hands. “Can’t we have one conversation without you two flirting like teenagers?”

“No,” you and Leah respond in unison, both grinning like idiots.

You’re both in Tesco, which was Leah’s first mistake because pregnancy has turned you into an unfiltered, walking hazard.

“I want crisps,” you declare, standing in front of the snack aisle.

Leah, already holding three bags, sighs. “Babe, you’ve got enough crisps to feed the whole team.”

“Well, the team isn’t carrying a small human and emotional trauma, are they?” You grab another bag, tossing it dramatically into the cart. “These are for survival.”

Leah snickers, steering the cart like she’s driving a getaway car.

At checkout, the cashier glances at your growing belly. “Aw, when are you due?”

Before Leah can answer, you deadpan, “Oh, I’m not pregnant. I just like snacks.”

Leah chokes on her own spit, trying to stifle her laughter while the poor cashier looks like she’s about to evaporate from awkwardness.

Outside, Leah doubles over, tears in her eyes. “You’re evil.”

You grin, proud. “I keep you entertained.”

She pulls you in for a quick kiss, her laughter fading into something softer. “I keep you loved.”

Your heart squeezes, but you cover it with a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Now carry the bags, I’m fragile.”

Later that evening, you’re sprawled on the couch, Leah sitting between your legs, massaging your swollen feet.

“You know,” she murmurs, fingers kneading gently, “pregnancy suits you.”

You snort. “Yeah? I’m sweaty, swollen, and have heartburn from drinking water, Leah.”

She leans back, her eyes dark with something warmer, deeper. “Still the fittest person I’ve ever seen.”

You arch a brow, biting your lip. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m growing your child.”

Leah shifts, her hand sliding up your leg, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Nah. I fancied you even when you were just a gobshite with an attitude problem.”

You grin, pulling her closer until your faces are inches apart. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve still got the attitude.”

She kisses you softly at first, then deeper, her hands cradling your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

When you finally pull back, breathless and grinning, you whisper, “Still whipped, huh?”

Leah presses her forehead against yours, her smile soft and full of love. “More than ever.”

later, kettle whistles in the background, but you’re too busy glaring at Leah to care. She’s leaning against the kitchen counter with that smug grin—the one that says she thinks she’s hilarious—while you sit on the couch, belly protruding like a smug reminder of your current, swollen state.

“I swear to God, Leah,” you huff, struggling to adjust the blanket around you, “if you make one more joke about me ‘waddling,’ I’m throwing your protein powder in the bin.”

Leah snorts, unapologetically stirring her tea. “You do realise you’ve married an athlete? Go ahead baby, i’ll get another fifty packs shipped to our door tomorrow.”

You narrow your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. “Don’t test me. I’m hormonal, hungry, and hot. Triple H—but not the sexy wrestler kind.”

Leah bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her tea. “Triple H? You’re such an idiot.”

“Oh, I’m the idiot? Says the woman who wore her very new very expensive white trainers, which i did tell you was a bad idea, in the rain last week and then acted shocked when they got dirty.”

She walks over, still grinning, and plops down beside you. “At least I can still see my feet.”

You gasp, mock-offended. “I’m growing a human, Williamson. What’s your excuse for that forehead?”

Leah nearly chokes on her tea, coughing and laughing simultaneously. “You’re so mean,” she wheezes, eyes crinkling with affection.

You roll your eyes but lean into her anyway. “Yeah, well, you love it.”

She presses a kiss to your temple, her hand instinctively resting on your belly. “I really do.”

The team is gathered in the lounge of a hotel post match, and you’ve made the grave mistake of standing up too quickly.

“Ugh,” you groan dramatically, gripping your back. “I feel like I’ve aged 40 years in nine months.”

Beth smirks from across the room. “You sound like it too.”

You flip her off without missing a beat. “Didn’t ask for commentary, Bethany.”

The girls burst into laughter. Leah watches, amused, shaking her head.

“I don’t know how you survive,” Beth says to Leah, chuckling.

Leah shrugs, biting back a grin. ”it’s character-building.”

You glare at her. “Character-building? Please. You’re lucky to have me.”

Leah saunters over, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and kisses your cheek. “Yeah, I am.”

The team groans in unison. “Get a room!”

You stick your tongue out like a child. “Jealousy’s a disease. Get well soon.”

Leah wakes up to you standing over her with a look of pure desperation.

“I need ice cream,” you whisper like it’s a life-or-death situation.

Leah squints at the clock. “It’s 3 AM.”

“And the ice cream won’t buy itself.”

Fifteen minutes later, she’s standing in the kitchen, hair a mess, wearing mismatched socks, scooping ice cream into a bowl.

She hands it to you with a tired smile. “Happy?”

You take a bite, sigh dramatically, then look at her with faux seriousness. “You’re lucky you’re fit.”

Leah laughs, leans down, and kisses you softly. “Yeah. And you’re lucky I’m whipped.”

[hirookouji]

idk if this is her first appearance but guys. we have chibi momoi satsuki

[gojoshooter]

HER HO!NY HUSBAND : GOJO SATORU

tw. suggestive, gojo flashes his goodies

Husband!Gojo coming out of the shower with a wet muscular body and a piece of towel hanging along his waist—only to see his wife laying on the bed right in front of him.

Pregnant Wife!Yn who had been insecure of her growing belly and weight since a couple months due to her pregnancy, watches Gojo check her from head to toe, an unexplainable look on his handsome pale face.

Sitting upright, she fixes her loose garments. Maybe he’s finally come to the realisation of not being such a big fan of my mom body.

Husband!Gojo sensing her dejected mood, snaps out of his internal thoughts as he decides to reach out and sit next to her instead.

“Baby? Something’s bothering?” he asks softly, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.

Pregnant Wife!Yn ever a self-conscious overthinker, mumbles while looking up at her husband, “I saw you gazing at me few a many times now...” she fixes her garment again, in embarrassment “like... weirdly. You start looking stiff all of a sudden, as if you want to confess something. About my bad shape maybe.”

At her confession, Satoru pauses, lips parted open slightly and not sure which part to explain first. He brings a wet but comforting hand on her swollen belly.

“Silly girl. Are you worrying about your plump little adorable tummy again? I told you I like it.”

Pregnant Wife!Yn frowns, not really sure of his words. “Really? Then how would you explain everytime you stopped to stare at me? Your face doesn't seem as if you love it—or even like it, Toru.”

Husband!Gojo who shakes his head, body turning more towards her distressed wife. “I don't like it? I love you and every part of you babe, you know me.”

Yn sighs softly, looking down with an upset face. “I do... but maybe i shouldn't have asked for a baby. I just... I feel like you'd have appreciated my old body more, Toru.”

Satoru snaps his head towards her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. This was his last straw. She has to know what his pregnant, innocent wife does to him.

As he stands up slowly from the edge of the bed, he makes sure she's all eyes and ears. “Oh really now. Then I must give you a real reason to never regret your baby with me...”

Undoing the towel hooked on his dripping wet waist, the white haired man reveals his lower half of the riches. As her eyes set down, there comes in view an almost fully hard wet length of Gojo Satoru.

Pregnant Wife!Yn being taken aback, is unable to react for a good few first seconds, mouth agape. Light hue of red crawls up the neck to settle on her cheeks, when her husband hums in question.

“Mm? You see this? This is what you do to me, silly girl.”

Everything seemed suddenly more reasonable—Gojo stealing those frequent long gazes, his odd body language while he checks his pregnant wife out. Gojo gets aroused.

Pregnant Wife!Yn tears her gaze away from his manhood, cold sweat making her feel more or less like her currently out of shower dripping wet husband. Oh the thoughts that might be running in his perverted brain, all the ways he could take you in and you wouldn't be moving away with all the weight you bear of his baby, but comply, and relish, and whine.

“Oh-oh...” she mumbles shyly, the revelation lessening her insecurity effectively more than all sweet words combined could have ever had.

an. husband gojo >>> also this is my 1k readers special! ty for giving my writings your time, love y'all. likes & rbs are appreciated <33

tags: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @ruins-posts

[bruhstories]

sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k

a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.

Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.

Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.

No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.

It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.

Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.

He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.

But finally, you were done.

It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.

You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.

Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.

"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.

"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.

"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"

Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.

"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."

But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.

You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.

"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.

He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.

"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"

You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.

"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.

How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.

"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."

The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.

You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.

"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.

"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.

"I don't know, kid-"

"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.

Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.

"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.

You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.

"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"

"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm-"

"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.

"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.

"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.

"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.

"I don't like sweets, kid."

"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."

"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."

"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.

"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"

"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.

Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.

"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.

"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."

"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."

Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."

"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.

"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."

"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."

"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.

Caught red-handed.

"Educated guess."

"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"

Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.

"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"

"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"

"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.

"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"

Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.

"You never called me that."

"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.

"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.

"And I'll regenerate."

Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.

"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."

"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.

"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."

"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"

"She." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.

"Alright, that's enough."

"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"

"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.

"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"

The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.

Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.

"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.

"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"

Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.

"I had a hunch." He shrugged. 

"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."

"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."

"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.

Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.

You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.

"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."

The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.

"I'll let it cool off a bit."

"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.

"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.

"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."

"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.

"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.

Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.

The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.

"Shit."

"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.

"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"

You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.

"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."

"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"

"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.

Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.

Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.

"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.

Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.

"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"

"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.

"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."

"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.

"I think you found yourself a new customer."

"You're too nice."

"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.

"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."

"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.

Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.

His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.

With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.

Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.

"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.

"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.

With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.

Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.

"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.

"Likewise. Now spread 'em."

"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.

He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.

"That desperate, hm?"

"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.

"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.

"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.

"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.

You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.

"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.

"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.

He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.

To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?

"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.

You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.

"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.

Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"

"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."

"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.

"Where are your manners?"

"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"

The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"

Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.

"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.

"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.

Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.

"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.

"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.

You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.

"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."

"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."

"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.

You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, honey badger."

"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.

"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."

He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.

In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.

"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.

"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"

"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."

"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."

"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.

"Both. It's both."

You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.

He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.

Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.

"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.

"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."

You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."

"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."

"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"

"Yes."

"Dulce de leche?"

"Yep."

"Baklava?"

"Uh-huh."

"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"

"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"

"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."

"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.

"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."

"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"

"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.

Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.

[jiangshiu]

𐙚 cho hyun-ju x reader — braiding her hair

slightly edited as of 1/7

her hair is tangled, nowhere near as styled as it was upon her arrival.

your fingers gently thread through the brown mess — the texture is not as brittle as you'd expected, pleasant to the touch just enough that you want to keep your hands buried in it for just a while longer.

so, for a few more minutes, you allow yourself to slack off, to enjoy the feeling of hyun-ju's surprisingly soft locks. she doesn't utter a word as you play with and twirl her hair, not even when you accidentally tug at the ends a bit too roughly.

it's only when you pull away, about to start working on your masterpiece (or in other words, the braid) that she finally speaks up, her voice quiet, timid, “...i've never had anyone do this for me before. thank you again.”

her confession makes you pause. for a moment, your brain struggles to pick an appropriate reaction. you want to express pity, console her, ask her more, but you'd rather not open any old wounds.

instead, you settle for the simple truth; “in that case i'm honored to be the first one to do this.”

with that said, you finally get to work. you divide hyun-ju's hair into three neat sections, interlacing the strands together. you take your time, treating each piece of the braid like it might break if you as much as twist it the wrong way. every piece falls into place perfectly like a puzzle as you intertwine the dark locks, your pace intentionally slow, leisurely.

a shaky breath slips through hyun-ju's lips, her shoulders slinking back a bit as she lets herself succumb to the gentle motion of your hands. despite not being able to see her face, you're certain her eyes are closed, drowning in the sensation.

“if...” you start, nearing the split ends of her hair, “when we get out of here, i think we should try out more hairstyles. and get ourselves some cute hair accessories. oh, actually, we should go to the mall and buy some pretty clothes as well! what do you think?”

it's like you can hear her lips curl into a small, appreciative smile, “i'd like that,” she admits.

as you secure hyun-ju's locks with a hair tie, a smile blooms on your face as well, “i'm counting on it then.”

“there,” your fingertips follow the length of the braid — truthfully, it's far from perfect, a few stray strands sticking out here and there, but little do you know she won't really mind.

hyun-ju turns around to face you. her black eyes carry a hint of uncertainty, like she's unsure of herself, “thank you,” she repeats, “it means a lot.”

the reluctance in her voice is loud and clear. she doesn't want to lose this precious moment of serenity just yet. because neither of you know when you'll have the opportunity to do something like this again, or if there even is a chance to escape this death filled land.

“actually, hold on, i'm not done yet.”

for the final touch, you tuck out two strands at the front. curling each strand in between your index fingers to give them a temporary wave, you catch hyun-ju's eyes slowly trailing down your face. she seems to be absolutely entranced by you — from the way your lips are pursed in concentration, to the kindness in your gaze that nobody else here has bothered to show her.

“you're watching me like a hawk,” you tease her with a toothy smile, tugging on one of the strands lightly.

that seems to pull her out of her trance-like state. she blinks a few times and looks down at her lap in shame, nervously wringing her hands, “sorry...”

“don't apologize,” you shake your head. you fluff up her bangs a bit as you continue, “i don't mind it if it's you looking at me.”

hyun-ju clears her throat. a faint blush dusts her cheeks as her fingers brush against her new hairstyle, careful not to dishevel it, “how do i look?”

your smile brightens.

“as beautiful as ever.”

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines

Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst

A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)

“Need anything?” Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. 

“I’m good,” you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead. 

“You wanna come in with me then?” 

You shook your head– the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. “No, I think I’ll stretch my legs out here.”

“Okay,” he said in a tone that indicated you’d be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” you assured him. 

He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, he’s opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face. 

You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadn’t ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritable– just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.

You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stifling– thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadn’t broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truck’s AC didn’t work as well as it used to. 

The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crew’s RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window.  

You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale air– like even they were desperate for some reprieve. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings. 

Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you. 

Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that you’d known about their existence had been more painful than the last. 

Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansas– their feud only grew each time their paths crossed. 

Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gaze– hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. 

“There she is,” he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driver’s seat. 

“Now what're you doin’ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didn’t need two uni drop outs on their team?” he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm. 

He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tyler’s skin. 

Tyler’s biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strength– but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the diner– hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to you– you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly. 

“Anderson,” you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tyler’s truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. “So lovely to see you, as always.”

You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker. 

Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. “You guys go ahead,” he instructed his crew. “I’m gonna spend some time with my friend here.”

They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone. 

“You should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.”

You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” you lied (it was absolutely on purpose). 

Anderson chuckled. “You know– I don’t know if we’ve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. You’re much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.” 

You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his words– but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chest– currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up in– but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel. 

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze. 

“Oh, hey now darlin’, don’t cover up. I’ve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action I’ve gotten all summer.” 

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerk– and he’d definitely make you uncomfortable… but you couldn’t imagine that he’d ever actually do anything to harm you.  

Then again, you’d never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didn’t care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness.  

You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tyler’s gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for that– all you caught was the glare from the sun. 

“You know I’m not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually you’re all covered up,” Anderson whistled. 

As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tyler’s truck– preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your ground– to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful. 

Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. “God, it’s true you don’t know what you’re missin’ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.”

You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yell– to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain weren’t connecting. 

“C’mon, where is she?” he taunted. “You know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer ‘em a little spicy.” 

He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like you’d originally planned. 

“Why don’t you come on back in my van with me,” he winked. “I’m not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.” 

Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldn’t move– your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly. 

“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fight– to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear. 

Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. “And don’t be afraid, baby doll. I don’t bite… too hard. Owens ain’t gotta know–”

“Anderson!” 

Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice… Not just any familiar voice– Tyler’s voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on you– undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage. 

“Here he is!” Anderson taunted. “Her douche bag in shining armor.”

You couldn’t help but notice Anderson didn’t step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tyler’s wake– all coming to your rescue. 

In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Anderson– forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tyler’s T-shirt for good measure. 

“Easy, Rambo,” Anderson sneered. “I was just tellin’ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidin’ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hangin’ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for something–”

But Anderson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Anderson’s nose. 

The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tyler’s shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face. 

Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils. 

“Damn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if she’s worth all this,” Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didn’t back down.  

Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up. 

“Easy, T–” Boone said. 

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Boone’s shoulder. You’d never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.   

Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. “It’s okay,” she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaos– like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. “You alright?”

You nodded, flustered.  

“Next time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,” Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone. 

“Yeah, and he’d deserve it. But he’s not worth catchin’ a charge,” Boone said. “It’s been a slow season and we don’t got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.”

“Take a breath, T,” Dani said. “He’s walkin’ away. Take a breath.”

You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breath– his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him. 

As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned around– his attention landing on you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of you– his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didn’t sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word. 

Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didn’t quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didn’t ask more. 

“I gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,” Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“What’d that asshat say to you?” Lily asked. “You looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyone’s eyes on you. Anderson’s previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourself– like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin. 

“Just the usual shit,” you tried to brush it off.  

You felt grateful when they didn’t push. 

Eventually, the crew disassembled– everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didn’t reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you didn’t take your eyes off from where it was parked– like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation. 

You remained hidden from the team– feeling so awkward and uncomfortable– like you didn’t want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Anderson’s words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldn’t find any shirts in your duffel bag that weren’t disgusting. And currently you didn’t have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat. 

“Everyone else is riding in the RV, it’s just us,” he said, eyes lingering on you. 

“Okay,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that you’d feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines.  

Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. “Baby, what’d he say to you?” 

You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. “I mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there… Just a lot of that.”

You heard his loud exhale. “Just say the word and I’ll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.”

The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. “I just want you to stay here,” you admitted. 

He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirts– like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirt– the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind. 

Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes. 

You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word. 

…

It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once you’d grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out. 

Tyler found you sitting on the curb once he’d passed out everyone else’s room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour. 

“You ready for bed?”

You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile.  

“C’mon,” he motioned his head to the left. “We’re upstairs.”

Tyler led the way to your room– and even though this was a dingy motel, you’d never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name. 

Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, he’d laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was… Still reading between the lines. 

You’d spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasn’t that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerk– of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldn’t have been a surprise– and yet, you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words he’d said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves. 

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tyler’s clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he must’ve grabbed for the two of you. 

“Better?” he asked, handing you one. 

You nodded and cracked it open. “Much.”

Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I-” you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tyler’s hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak. 

“It wasn’t even anything that bad–” you admitted. “I meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it… I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross… and dirty, and…” And, well, you didn’t quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight. 

“Oh, baby,” Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead.  

It wasn’t until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he assured you, only squeezing tighter. 

“I don’t know why this bothered me so much–” 

“Because Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,” he answered for you. “You’re allowed to be upset by that.” 

You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt. 

“I’m the sorry one,” he said. 

“What?” you shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry–”

“I should have been there.”

“You were there,” you reminded him. “Unless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the nose…”

Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chest– instantly soothing you. 

You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth. 

“I just–” you paused again. “I–” 

“Hey,” he said. You looked up at him briefly. “It’s just me.” 

That was the problem– it was Tyler. And you didn’t want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened. 

“I didn’t fight back,” you said quietly. “I just froze up– it was like I couldn’t even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood there– taking it.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “What are you talking about?”

“It just felt like…” your voice tapered off. 

Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, “Like what?” 

“It just felt like I didn’t do anything to stop it,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. “Like I let it happen.”

“Baby,” Tyler sighed. “Baby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldn’t have mattered what you said–”

“But I could have told him to get the fuck away from me–”

“You were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we can’t control how we react when we’re scared. It’s fight or flight–”

“Or freeze,” you mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Or freeze. I’m pretty sure fawning is one too, now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter– what matters is you can’t control that you froze. Just like–”

“Just like you couldn’t control punching him in the face?” you asked. 

You glanced up just in time to see Tyler’s lips tug into a smile. “Exactly,” he said. 

“I just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,” you pouted. “Freezing didn’t do much.”

You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,” he smirked. 

“Thanks for protecting me,” you said quietly. 

“I’ll always protect you, you know that,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. “And thanks for punching him in the nose.”

Tyler snorted. “Anderson’s had that coming for a long time.”

[prettybabybaby]

rating: 18+. mdni.

pairing: stepbrother!sirius x reader x stepbrother!regulus

content: stepcest

“see, reggie?” sirius grunted, his head hung, a curtain of onyx hair shielding his face and the expression of pure bliss. “it’s not so hard to fucking share.”

regulus merely rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest, further creasing what was once a crisp white dress shirt. “as if you would share, you selfish bastard. you never-“

sirius cuts him off with a groan. “I'm the oldest. I don’t need to share.” he finally lifts his head, his eyes instantly locking with yours as your chest heaves up and down in time with his thrusts. “much less our pretty sister. she was mine first.”

regulus scoffs, “it doesn’t work like that you sick freak. she-“

sirius cuts him off again, adding to regulus’s growing frustration. “reggie, shut up already. can’t you see that your older siblings are busy? go play or something.”

regulus scowls, unable to resist giving sirius a childish shove. he glares venomously, “idiot. you’re not even doing it right. you don’t know what she likes.”

you let out a whimper as sirius’s cock slips out of you as regulus shoves him, your pussy on full display to their eyes. you gasp, cold air from the room sending a shiver down your spine as it blows against your sore clit. your brothers don’t dote on you as they normally would at any sign of the smallest distress, focused on their childish argument. you pout further at the loss of attention. “would you two please just-“

sirius snarls at regulus, shoving him back. “and you do?” he scoffs, pushing his hair back with one hand, the other tangling into yours, yanking the hair tie from your hair. he wraps it around his silky locks, shorter strands of his messy haircut falling from the loose ponytail.

you yelp, slapping his hand. you rub your scalp with a pout, “sirius! that fucking hurt!”

sirius ignores you, his own breath rough and ragged, his cheeks flushed a soft pink as he’s focused on your younger brother. “you’re lucky she let you fuck her in the first place. baby.”

“don't patronize me, sirius.” regulus grits, “she came to me.” a smug smile then pulls at his lips as he takes in sirius’s glare as he tuts, tugging his slick cock. “she still does. and never has she spoken a word about you all of the countless times I’ve fucked her. every time she’s milked me dry all these years... I know exactly what she likes. does that make you jealous, brother?”

sirius rolls his jaw before answering, “hardly. of course she’d go to the baby first. probably pitied your micro-“

regulus shoves him again roughly, his cheeks reddening, “I’m bigger than you.”

your older brother snorts, settling between your legs again, mindlessly tapping the weeping tip of his cock against your throbbing mound. “sure you are. you probably fuck her like a little puppy in heat. no wonder she didn’t fight me off. she’s probably ready for a real man.”

you could practically feel the anger radiating off of regulus’s body, his arms tight inside his shirt, his fists gripping the bedsheets, jaw clenched so tightly you worry for his teeth. you sigh, exasperated, “reggie, please don’t get mad. I’ll…” you place your hand atop his, letting out a strangled whine as sirius slips back inside you, “I’ll let you have a go after siri, okay?”

[flemingology]

drunk on you ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alcohol makes your girlfriend lose her inhibitions. but not her ability to make you feel so, so good

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, grinding (dancing), language, smut (18+), strap (R receiving)

wc: 4.8k

an: save me drunk, messy and eager alexia save me. thank you for the request! hope you enjoy :)

Alexia’s at the annual end-of-season party with her teammates. The venue is a chic upscale rooftop bar overlooking the glistering city lights. It’s been rented out exclusively for the team, a night to celebrate another successful season and finally blow off some steam.

The atmosphere is vibrant, fairy lights and lanterns string across the space, casting a warm golden glow. Alexia stands by the bar with her usual calm, collected demeanor, though internally, she’s anything but. She can’t wait to get the night started, to lose some of her inhibitions that she clung to tightly during the season. She’s already had a drink, a glass of white, and is nursing a second more to keep her hands busy than anything.

She knows you’re coming. You texted her earlier saying you got held back a little at work, finishing up some meetings here and there, but ever since you texted her you were on your way, she’s been hyper aware of every moment ticking by. She missed you. She always misses you throughout the season. Not physically, of course, because you spend every moment of every day together. But Alexia always feels like her busy schedule forms a barrier between the two of you, as much as you both try your best to work around it. Now, with the prospect of a couple weeks off, and especially a fun night ahead, she can barely control herself.

When you finally arrive, the vibe shifts. Alexia noticed you the second you walk in, abandoning her conversation with Patri almost immediately, much to the dismay of the midfielder. Her gaze locks on to you, and her breath catches slightly at the sight. You’re wearing a black dress that hugs your figure just right, confidence radiating as you weave through the crowd. It’s moments like these that Alexia still has to pinch herself. You were hers, all hers, but sometimes she couldn’t quite believe that.

Her mouth quirks into a small smile, but her eyes already darken with desire. She feels her pulse quicken, and tightens her grip on the glass slightly. Internally, she’s already scheming how to get you alone, but for now, she stays composed as she watches you greet new and familiar faces before you eventually reach her.

As you make your way toward her, Alexia straightens up, setting her glass down on the bar. She doesn’t say anything at first, just takes a step closer and weaves her hands around your waist as if it’s where they’ve always belonged. “You made it.” Her voice is quiet, a mixture of relief and attention lacing her tone. Her fingers press gently into your sides as she pulls you closer, her forehead resting against yours. The world around you fades for a moment as Alexia tilts her head slightly, and her lips brush against yours in a slow and deliberate kiss. When she pulls back, her thumb lightly strokes your hip through the fabric of the dress. “How was your day?” “Better now,” you laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Mine too.” She kisses you again then, a little firmer, but still unhurried. Just a silent reminder of how much she missed you throughout the day, even only after a short time apart.

It’s grounding, for Alexia. After a full day of meetings and training, her mind being pulled in different directions, having you there at the end of the day centers her. She feels the tension in her shoulders begin to fade, a warmth spreading through her chest that only you seem to bring out.

The party is in full swing, the venue feeling alive with music, laughter and the hum of conversations that ripple across the room. For a while, you and Alexia stick together, her hand occasionally finding the small of your back as you both engage with teammates, coaches and friends. You share a drink, clinking glasses with knowing smiles before being pulled into separate conversations.

At first, you keep Alexia in your peripheral vision. There’s something enticing about how she speaks animatedly to her teammates, her expressions more open and carefree than usual. Her laughter rings out above the chatter, a hearty sound that makes your heart flutter. It’s rare to see her this untroubled. During the season, she keeps herself to very strict standards, so you love seeing her thrive in environments like these. It doesn’t happen often, but when it happens, you can’t help but admire the way she lets loose.

You find yourself swept into conversations of your own, chatting with familiar faces and even a few new ones. Still, there’s an undeniable magnetism between you and Alexia. Every so often, your paths cross and she’ll slip her hand around your waist, leaning in to ask if you need another drink or if you’re enjoying yourself.

“Having fun, cariño?” She asks, her breath warm against your ear as she stands close. “Not more than you, apparently,” you tease, gesturing to the drink in her hand that should’ve been her fourth or fifth. She grins, playful and unbothered, and you’d give the world to have seen it plastered on her face a little longer. “I’m celebrating. Let me live a little.”

The party has escalated into a full-blown celebration. No more polite conversations and introductions to staff, the DJ has found his rhythm and the dance floor is pulsing with energy. People are laughing louder, dancing harder and drinks keep on flowing freely. You’ve slowed down on the alcohol, because someone has to drive you two home, and Alexia, it seems, has had more than enough for the both of you. You’re leaning against the bar, nursing a soda while watching on from a distance. She’s caught in a circle of teammates, all laughing and clapping as someone attempts a questionable dance move. Mapi, probably.

Her cheeks are flushed, her hair a little tousled, and she looks radiant in a way that makes your chest ache. She glances up and catches your gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she breaks away from the group and makes a beeline for you.

“You’re no fun over here,”’ she says, words slightly slurred and voice raised to compete with the music. She wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Come dance with me.” “I’m fine right here, Ale.” You laugh, placing a hand on her arm to steady her. “I need to drive us home, remember?” She pouts dramatically, her bottom lip jutting out as her fingers tug lightly at your wrist. “One dance. Just one.”

And who are you to resist her when she looks at you like that, on one of the very few nights in the year where she gets to let loose? She pulls you onto the dance floor, her hands immediately finding your hips. The beat is fast, but Alexia, too drunk to really notice, doesn’t care about keeping rhythm. She’s clumsy, her movements loose, but it’s endearing. “See? You’re having fun!” Alexia says, her lips close to your ear as her fingers dig into your waist. “You’re impossible,” you reply, but you can’t help smiling as she spins you around playfully.

The music shifts then, into something with a deep, pulsing rhythm. The dance floor grows tighter, couples dancing together while others simply lose themselves in the music. Alexia pulls you closer, her hands firm on your waist, and she turns you around so your back is flush against her chest. She rests her head on your shoulder while swaying the two of you. “Ale, seriously,” you murmur, but your voice doesn’t carry the seriousness you wished it would. “We’re not exactly alone here.” You can feel her smirk against you. “No one’s paying attention. Look around.”

You glance around briefly, and sure enough, everyone seems engrossed in their own little worlds. Her hands tighten slightly on your hips, her voice taking on a teasing edge. “I’ve barely touched you all night. Let me have this.”

You had a retort ready, really, but then her grip shifts, her strong hands guiding your hips in time with the beat, and it dies in your throat. “Ale,” you say again, but it’s weaker this time, your protest faltering as her thumbs rub small circles into your waist.

You swallow hard, your resolve crumbling. Against your better judgment, you let yourself lean back into her, the tension in your body melting as the music takes over. You start to move with her, letting her guide you, her strong frame pressed against yours. Her hands drop slightly lower, resting just above your hips, and her grip tightens as your movements grow bolder. She groans softly, the sound nearly lost in the music but still enough to make your stomach flip.

“That’s it,” she whispers, her lips delicately brushing the curve of your jaw. “Just like that.” Her hands shift again, sliding dangerously close to areas that weren’t appropriate in this setting, and you grab her wrists, stopping her before she gets too bold. “Don’t push it,” you warn, though your breath hitches as she nuzzles into the crook of your neck. She chuckles, low and teasing. “I’m just warming you up for later.” Her comment makes your stomach flip, and it takes everything inside you not to lead her out of the crowd and home now.

As the song fades into another, you slowly pull back from your girlfriend, whose arms circle around your waist tighter in response. “Don’t go, cariño”, she murmurs into your neck. “Ale, I need a break, and you look like you could use some water.” You teasingly flick the tip of her nose, before softly pecking her lips a couple times and walking away. 

The hours slip by, and the party grows louder, messier. Alexia drifts through the crowd, moving from one group of teammates to the other, seemingly always a new drink in her hand whenever you catch her gaze. You try to give her a couple disapproving looks, but she acts like she doesn’t notice, and continues on with her celebrations. It’s when you see her at the bar for the second time in five minutes, you think it’s time to intervene. Her balance is off and she leans against the counter of the bar to steady herself. The bartender is pouring her another drink, but you step in before she can take it. “Okay, Ale, I think you’ve had enough for the night, hmm?” “Huh? Por qué? I’m fine!” You hum, the way she slurs her words telling you she’s anything but. “Let’s go home, amor.” You don’t expect her to comply immediately, but she doesn’t complain when you wrap her arm around your shoulders and carefully guide her through the bar and to the parking lot. 

The quiet of the night is a sharp contrast to the chaos of the party, and as you help Alexia into the car, you can feel her start to relax against you. She’s tipsy, her movements a little clumsy, but the way she laces her fingers with yours tells you she’s already thinking about what’s to come when you get home. The ride is filled with Alexia’s warm, slightly slurred murmurs against your neck. She keeps pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, her lips soft but uncoordinated. “You smell so good… I missed you tonight.” “Missed me? I was there all night, baby.”

She pulls back just enough to give you a half-hearted glare. “Not like that… you know what I mean.” Her hand slides up your thigh at that, delicately brushing her fingers over the exposed skin where your dress had ridden up a bit. Before it gets too high, though, you catch it and put it back in her own lap. “Save it for when we’re home, Putellas.”

-

The door clicks shut behind you as Alexia practically collapses into your side, her arm draped over your shoulders. Her steps are uneven, and her weight leans heavily on you, but the soft giggle that escapes her lips tells you she’s exhilarated. “You gonna help me with my shoes, or am I just supposed to struggle?” she teases, holding onto the wall for balance as she kicks one heel halfway off, then nearly topples forward. You laugh softly, reaching out to steady her by her waist. “At this rate, you’re going to break an ankle.”

Dropping to a crouch, you gently tug her heels off, your hands brushing against her bare ankles. Alexia watches you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, her fingers resting lightly on your shoulder to keep her balance. “There,” you say as you place her shoes by the door. “Gracias, mi ángel,” she murmurs, the pet name making your stomach flip.

As you both step further inside, Alexia’s fingers brush your arm, trailing down until she’s holding your hand. She tugs you toward the living room, but her movements are uncoordinated, and she nearly trips over the edge of the rug. “Careful,” you say, catching her again. “Maybe I had more to drink than I thought,” she admits, laughing as she pulls you closer. “You don’t say.”

The walk upstairs is a challenge. She almost falls more than once, needing to steady herself on the railing more than she’d like to admit. You’ve got a hand on the small of her back from behind, slightly pushing her forward. At the top of the stairs, she stops you, her fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “Wait,” she says, her voice low. You look up at her, your brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” Her eyes drop to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. “Just… kiss me.”

It’s not a question, and before you can respond, her lips smash against yours. There’s nothing soft about it, not tender, not deliberate, it’s all tongue and teeth. She manoeuvres the two of you towards the bedroom and it’s a miracle that you reach it without her bumping you both into something. Her hands are roaming across your body hurriedly, like she wants to make up for lost time.

“Alexia,” you murmur against her lips, your hands tangling in her hair. “Tell me,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “Tell me you love me.” Your answer comes in the way you kiss her back, your fingers tugging at her shirt, desperate to feel her closer. Alexia groans softly, her lips moving to your jaw, then your neck, as she walks you backward toward the bed.

The back of your knees then hit the bed, and you sit down on the edge, Alexia pushing you further up the mattress. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this,” Alexia murmurs, her voice low and rough in your ear. Before you can respond, her hands slide under the hem of your dress, the coolness of her palms sending a shiver down your spine. She lifts the fabric slowly, deliberately, and you raise your arms to help her, the piece of clothing discarded somewhere behind her.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her eyes raking over you like she’s seeing you for the first time. Her fingers trail over your bare skin, leaving goosebumps. Her lips find yours again, this kiss deeper, hungrier, her teeth catching your bottom lip before she pulls away slightly. “Let me take care of you,” she says, her voice almost a plea. You nod, your hands tugging at her shirt in return. “Only if you lose this first.”

Alexia chuckles, reaching behind her to yank the shirt over her head. The movement is hurried, and the hem gets stuck for a moment, causing her to fumble. You can’t help but laugh, but the sound dies in your throat when her toned body is revealed, the intensity in her gaze making it impossible to focus on anything else. “Something funny?” she asks, a playful smirk plastered on her face. “Nothing,” you manage, your own voice unsteady. “Just... hurry up.” She stands up quickly and her hands fumble with her belt, a huff of frustration leaving her lips at that. “You’re really not as smooth as you think right now.” “Shhh,” she replies, giggling as she finally gets it undone. “I’m still smooth enough.”

She climbs back onto the bed then, her movements not as fluid as they usually are, but her eagerness sends a wave of arousal through you. Her fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, and she pauses, looking up at you with a question in her eyes. “Can I?” You nod quickly, your breath hitching as she tugs them down, leaving you bare beneath her. “Dios mío,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re perfect.”

Her gaze catches yours as she trails her fingers down your body, and you let out a soft gasp as her digits find your clit. Although she’s clearly trying her best, her movements are a little jerky, and it’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable for you. “Alexia…” you murmur, shifting slightly beneath her. “Am I-” she starts to ask, her brow furrowing, “is this okay?” You nod but guide her hand gently, showing her the rhythm you need. Her eyes soften, and she focuses harder, biting her lip as she matches your guidance. “There,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “That’s perfect.” She teases you a little, rubbing tight circles over your clit and eventually dipping her fingers down your folds to gather some arousal. It’s not perfect, it’s definitely not as precise as she usually was, but it felt good. 

A couple moments pass when you suddenly notice her body is no longer pressed against yours. She reaches over to the bedside table, clumsily rummaging through the contents of the bottom drawer, but you know what she’s looking for. She eventually retrieves the strap, a goofy triumphant smile on her face. As Alexia stands up from the bed, you take a moment to get comfortable, moving up the bed and against the pillows. You ground yourself, taking a couple deep breaths, but you notice that Alexia is taking way longer than usual. When you open your eyes again and look over at her, you can’t help but choke out a laugh at her state. She’s fumbling with the harness of the strap, and it would be adorable if she didn’t seem so worked up about it. “Need any help over there?” “No,” she insists stubbornly, and it takes a couple more tries, but she eventually manages to get it on snugly. 

As she walks back over to the bed and climbs on top of it, you can’t help but drift your gaze down to the silicone between her legs. If there was one way that Alexia knew to make you crazy, it was with her strap. Her muscled body and athlete’s stamina often made for multiple orgasms a night, the midfielder usually only ever stopping when you had to tap out.

She spreads your legs with one hand and rubs some lube up and down the strap with the other, and you feel a jolt of arousal course through you at the sight of her hand pumping up and down the toy. “Ready, mi amor?” You bite your lip and give her a nod, eyes fixed on the way she slides the toy between your folds, your breath catching in your throat as she rubs it over your clit a couple times. “Ale,” you start, your voice desperate, “please.”

As Alexia sinks into you, her breath catches in her throat, and her hands clutch your hips with a desperation that makes your heart race. "God, you're perfect," she groans, her voice slurred but full of emotion. Her lips press against your jaw, her words tumbling out. "I missed this. Missed you." Your nails rake lightly down her back as you arch into her. "You feel so good, Alexia," you whisper, your voice trembling with pleasure. "Just like that."

Her movements are messy, her thrusts uneven, but there’s something intoxicating about the way she moans your name. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy," she murmurs, her words slurred but passionate. "I can't, mi amor, I can't get enough of you." She loses her control at that, her thrusts becoming harsh as she grips your hips so tight you’re sure there’s gonna be a bruise tomorrow. You try to match her pace, guiding your hips along with her movements, but it’s to no use, as she seems to speed up inexplicably more. You try to relax and enjoy it, but it’s teetering on the edge of painful and you know she wouldn’t like it if you didn’t tell her.

You grip her shoulders, guiding her rhythm as best you can. "Slow down, baby," you murmur, your breath hitching when she adjusts. "Just take your time." Alexia nods against your neck, her lips brushing your skin. "Anything for you," she whispers hoarsely, her thrusts becoming more deliberate. "Just tell me... tell me what feels good, cariño."

When her pace steadies, a deep groan escapes her lips. "You're so tight," she mutters, her words broken and breathless. "So perfect for me." Your hands find her face, cupping her cheeks and forcing her to meet your gaze. "I love you," you say, your voice trembling as she hits the perfect spot inside of you with every thrust. Alexia’s eyes darken, and she lets out a low, guttural moan. "Say it again," she pleads, her thrusts deepening. "I love you," you repeat, your voice louder this time. "Only you."

You feel your first orgasm fast approaching, the weight of Alexia’s vulnerability combined with the way she seems to have perfected her thrusts, even in her drunken state, is pushing you to the edge far more quickly than you would’ve liked. The tension builds between the two of you, Alexia’s breathing growing heavier in your ear and you letting out moan after moan, no longer caring about who in your apartment building you’re keeping up with how loud you’re being.

Alexia's grip tightens, her lips brushing against your ear. "Come for me," she murmurs, her voice low and commanding despite her drunken haze. "Please, mi amor. I need to feel you." Her words push you over the edge, and your release triggers her own. You let out a desperate whimper of her name as she buries her face in your neck, her moans muffled but no less intense as she shudders against you. "Te amo," she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. "So much, more than anything."

After a brief lull, where you’re both catching your breaths and Alexia rests her forehead against your shoulder, her warm breath tickling your skin, she stirs again. Her fingers trace lazy circles on your thigh, her touch sending little sparks through your body. "I’m not done with you," she murmurs, her voice slurred but filled with determination. You chuckle softly, still trying to recover. "Ale, you’re drunk."

“Doesn’t seem like that kept me from making you feel good just now.” You blush at her words, and you know she’s right. You hit her shoulder lightly, feigning annoyance, but the smile playing on your lips gives you away. Before you can protest, she’s shifting you onto your stomach, her hands clumsy but insistent as she guides your hips up. "Stay just like this," she says, her words breathy and almost pleading.

You lean your head down onto your forearms, waiting patiently for Alexia to adjust herself behind you, still trying to catch your breath from your first orgasm. Alexia’s hands roam your body, her touch eager. She fumbles a bit, trying to adjust herself, and lets out a frustrated groan when the strap isn’t cooperating. "Why is this so hard right now?" she mutters to herself, which makes you laugh softly. "Do you need help?" you offer, half-teasing, but there’s a fondness in your tone. "No, no," she insists, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I’ve got this. I swear."

Her hands tremble a little as she aligns the strap with your core, misjudging the movement a couple times. “Sorry, sorry, let me- wait, okay.” Finally, she aligns herself, and as she slowly pushes inside, the clumsiness fades. She lets out a low moan, gripping your hips tight. "Oh, fuck," you breathe, your voice raspy. "Fuck, that feels so good, Ale.”

Her thrusts aren’t as rushed this time, but she’s struggling to find a steady rhythm. She goes with deep, slow thrusts at first, but then speeds up a bit, and when you’ve finally adjusted, she slows down again. It feels good, but it’s not steady enough to be entirely pleasurable. “Babe,” you begin, your voice strained as you try to talk through the pleasure. “What? Did I hurt you?” Alexia speaks up before you can form your sentence, her thrusts slowing to a complete stop now. You look at her over your shoulder, your heart warming at the little frown that was etched across her forehead. “No, you’re not hurting me, baby. You’re just a little… off. Just try and be steady, yeah? I’ll guide my hips along.”

Her frown melts into a sheepish grin, and she nods, leaning forward to press a kiss against your cheek. “Sorry, cariño,” she murmurs against your skin. “I’ll do better.” This time, when her hips roll forward, the sensation draws a soft gasp from your lips, your head falling forward on your forearms. “Like this?” she asks, her voice low and slightly slurred but full of intent, her gaze locked on your face. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Like that.”

A smug grin spreads across her face, her earlier clumsiness replaced with a determination to make up for it. “Told you I’m smooth with it,” she teases, her voice tinged with playful arrogance. “Shut up and keep going,” you reply, your words coming out in a breathless laugh.

She chuckles, her lips trailing down the back of your neck as her hands tighten on your hips, anchoring you against her as she moves with more purpose. The heat between you builds quickly now, every thrust deliberate, every press of her lips against your body filled with an urgency that leaves you both gasping for air.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with pleasure. “So do you,” you reply, your voice trembling as her movements drive you closer and closer to the edge. “Better now?” she asks, her tone playful but earnest, her lips brushing against your shoulder. “Much better,” you manage to say, your voice breaking into a soft moan as her rhythm deepens, her body pressing into yours with just the right amount of pressure. You know she won’t come again, usually only being able to come from the friction once, but you know she’s enjoying it just as much as you are. 

Her arm slips around your body after a while, two of her fingers finding your clit as she draws quick circles, firm around the bundle of nerves, a desperate moan leaving your lips at the added pleasure. “God, Ale-”, you start, your voice breathy, “fuck, baby, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop, please.”

You lose yourself in your pleasure, your back arching for her and moan after moan spilling from your lips as she brings you closer and closer to your release. She leans down, her body flush against yours and brings her lips to your ear. “Let go for me,” she whispers, her voice tender but full of intent. 

Her words and her movements are all you need, and when the release finally washes over you, it’s overwhelming, leaving your entire body trembling beneath her. She doesn’t stop, her touch soft and soothing as she helps you ride it out, her lips pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

When you finally come down, she collapses beside you, pulling you into her arms as you both catch your breath. “Better?” she asks again, her tone teasing but warm as she presses a kiss to your temple. “Perfect,” you reply, snuggling into her chest, your body still buzzing from the aftershocks.

Her fingers trace gentle patterns on your back as she mumbles, “I love you. Even if I’m a little drunk and clumsy sometimes.” You laugh softly, lifting your head to meet her gaze. “I love you too. Even if you’re a mess.” “Hey,” she protests lightly, her lips curving into a grin. “Shut up and kiss me,” you say, pulling her down into another kiss, her laughter muffled against your lips.

After cleaning each other up with a quick shower, Alexia is completely sobered up and you share the rest of your evening together, tangled in the sheets, whispering affirmations of your love and adoration for the other in the quiet of the night. 

[ceesimz]

Lavender

A date that unfortunately doesn't go as planned. (autistic!reader - angst -> fluff)

Reverie series here as always! A verrrry real experience depicted in this one, with some amazing help from @pickledwoso that i am very grateful for, thank youuu <3

“Engel, are you ready to leave?” Alexia sang as she headed out of the bedroom towards where you were at the door rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, waiting for her.

“Yes, you fool, I've been ready for the past half hour.” You rolled your eyes at her teasingly, laughing when she lightly pawed at your side where she knew you were ticklish. “Come on! You're taking all day.”

“Ay, it is our day-off, I can take my time for once. No rushing, just calm, and me and you.” She gave an alluring smile, sliding her hand down your arm until she intertwined your fingers, then leaned forwards to kiss your forehead. “Are you excited?”

“Very. I love when we do this.” You told her with a squeeze of her hand. The girl grinned, her eyes brimming with excitement and complete happiness seeping from her pores, like the prospect of visiting a farmer's market with her girlfriend was as exciting as a third Ballon d’Or.

“Me too.” She gently knocked your chin up and pecked your lips before brushing back a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, are we ready, mi vida?”

“For the love of god, yes!”

Any time the club issued some days-off, one of the things highest on the list for yourself and Alexia was visiting the local farmer’s market. You’d buy the best of the best fresh organic products and cook together a dish of food that, combined with the quality time you'd spend with each other, would make for a night-in together that was so much better than going out somewhere. 

These days had become somewhat of a tradition, and with it being the penultimate day of the short summer break after the tournament Alexia had gone to, it was absolute perfection. The last day had no plans apart from relaxing and spending time together before the season started again. You couldn't think of a better way to spend the last bit of time off than a date to a familiar, easy place with Alexia that was sure to give way for a fun afternoon and evening.

With it being the height of summer, Barcelona was especially warm, which was perhaps the first warning sign of the day.

“Ale, you really need to get your car in the garage, your AC sucks.” You groaned, the vents on full blast yet hardly doing a thing to cool you down against the 35 degree air outside. Your window was open and your head rested against the door dramatically, Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight even if she did feel a little bad about it.

“It’s got a service next week, they will fix it then. Sorry.” She winced, hardly breaking a sweat in the weather she was more than acclimated to whilst you seemed to be struggling before the pair of you had even left the car.

You shrugged her off because it's not exactly her fault her car's AC has been faulty since the spring, and focused all your attention on the life-saving breeze hitting your face as Alexia maneuvered through some tame midday traffic. Hot weather wasn't one of your favourite things in the world, as a matter of fact much more comfortable in minus degree weather with tiny icicles on your eyelashes, but a year into living under the blaze of the Barna sun you had no choice but to put up with it.

Though, your patience with the heat wore off quick. And in its wake, a simmering feeling of restlessness, which should have been yet another warning sign. But you were too deep in your determination for this to be a good day for anything to write you off.

The market was only a short drive away, the two of you having opted out of walking because, well, duh, the weather, and just as the sweat that found its place on your nose no more than five minutes after stepping out of your ice cold shower finally began to evaporate, it came crawling right back the second you got out of the car. Alexia was starting to feel uneasy about the day's plans, and, really, so were you, but you were set on pushing through the constrictive feeling that had settled in your bones when the first bit of heat came your way after leaving your flat. There wouldn't be much time in the coming weeks for a day like this with your girlfriend, you weren't about to wreck it for the both of you.

From where the car was parked to the entrance of the market, you walked in silence, hand in hand across slightly worn stone tiles until the rusted old gates of the park stood before you. Over the threshold of the entrance, paved tiles turning to cobble, you knew the chaos the market had in store for you. You didn’t know if you could handle it. The writing on the wall was in the prickly sensation in your skin that was all too familiar, as was the way every nerve in your body screamed in discomfort, almost like your soul was desperately trying to find a way out of your body.

You ignored it, and headed towards the stalls before Alexia could ask how you were.

This place was familiar; you knew the ins and outs of each stall, you knew where to go, you knew how long it took to get around. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

You loved this place, of course it’d be fine. It beamed with energy, with good vibes, with good people. With its colourful displays of the finest fruit and vegetables, it was more than just a market; it was the heartbeat of the surrounding neigbourhoods.

All kinds of scents and aromas swirled around each corner, weaving themselves into the fabrics of people’s clothes and lingering long after they’d left. They were intoxicatingly good, and it was evident in the looks of wonder on everybody’s face, old or young, experienced shopper or recent newcomer. Vendors positioned at every stall or tattered wagon called out their offerings in a chaotic yet melodic mix of Spanish and Catalan, grabbing the nearest fruit or veg to wave around like an auctioneer with a hammer, the only use for it being to wave off the flies dancing tauntingly around their goods. 

Locals haggled over prices with the farmers they’d come to know just as well as their own family; their loud and boisterous back-and-forth banter may have sounded like arguing to unknowing tourists, but to everyone else it was understood as just some good-humoured ribbing that they all delighted in. It was more of a shuffle than a walk throughout the place thanks to the tourists that seemed to stop in the middle of the aisles every second, clearly oblivious to the well-practiced dance of the locals. Elderly ladies pulled their clueless esposos around with one arm whilst they carried their wicker basket in the other, the woven willow groaning under the weight of the countless ingredients to be used in that night’s meal.

For a moment, as you paused off to the side whilst Alexia caught up with one of the stall owners, a fisherman with his catches of the week proudly on display, which you knew your girlfriend would end the conversation by buying enough fish meat to feed the five thousand, you took a moment to breathe. Everybody seemed relieved of their life’s burdens here, gathered closely in one space that was steeped in the essence of the world’s simplest pleasures; flavour, tradition, and community. Only, the smile that was usually imprinted on your face whenever you came was no more than a distant memory. 

Despite the fairly shadowed area, considering the park was fenced in by sporadic trees that skimmed the roofs of buildings that showed off the city’s beautiful architecture, it was still insufferably hot. It radiated off of the ground, rebounded off the buildings around, and the flurry of structures meant there was no wind breaking through to give a cool Mediterranean breeze like you had before. 

Alexia seemed none the wiser, enraptured by the surroundings like it was her first time there, her head on a swivel and marveling at the mouth-wateringly exceptional variety of things to choose from. You hadn’t really been taking it in, your eyes stuck to the back of her head as you followed her through, waiting on shaking legs whenever she laughed and joked with each worker she bought from. 

This labyrinth of every cook’s dream was well and truly alive, but you weren’t. You couldn’t absorb the intense feeling of belonging and sonder you got whenever you came here. It was too much. The thought ate away at you, as with every fly that landed on your skin or every person that brushed against you, you became more and more on edge. 

All the different smells, the different sounds, the crowd of people, they didn’t spark those usual feelings of contentment and peace that transpired for you normally. Instead, they felt oppressive, like they were attacking your senses. 

The concoction of aromas forced themselves inside your nose and overloaded you completely, the squeamish smell of fish and the fiery linger of hundreds of kinds of herbs and spices bringing on a pounding headache. Every squeak of a wicker basket as the willow was put under more pressure could have been a gunshot for all you knew, the way it echoed around the tunnels of your ears. Anytime someone briefly put a hand on you as they moved past had you flinching, hating the unexpected contact as it was the last thing you needed in such a situation.

You didn’t find any comfort whatsoever in how Alexia’s hand never left yours for more than a minute, when normally it was something that grounded you. Her usually funny comments and little facts and point-outs of detail about her ‘second home’ (the name she had given it as she’d been coming here since she was young) didn’t make you feel any brighter, in fact you were pretty sure you missed most of them.

And as every minute passed, it appeared to get busier and busier, until it started to feel like you were in some kind of mosh pit, people bouncing off of you with every turn only for the next one to come along no more than a second later. You couldn’t hear a word Alexia was speaking, the once calming mix of languages turned into a booming echo of voices that were so close they seemed to be knocking on the bone of your skull, yet too distant for you to make out what anyone was saying, making it all so. much. worse.

Every voice, every footstep, every hearty laughter and every scrape of wood along the floor grated against your ears, all noises around amplified to immeasurable heights. The space was far too loud and far too crowded – each sensation you felt blurred into the next until it became impossible to separate from one another. But you did feel how each individual muscle tensed, from your legs to your shoulders, as Alexia continued to pull you through the market. 

You were hyperaware of everything around you and it soon became unbearable. But Alexia was happy, she chatted away like nothing was happening, comfortable and content as her canvas bag brimmed with stuff you didn’t even realise she had bought. You soldiered on, or at least tried to.

Until, your breathing began to quicken, your lungs unable to take in any of the stuffy air you walked through, your chest tightening in a way that only caused you to panic impossibly more. Each piece of fabric from your clothes grazed against your skin like a hundred scratches in a single second, your shirt and shorts beginning to feel like they were getting tighter with each step you took. And when the claustrophobia, the feeling like there was no escape at all, began to really set in, the day was over.

Your resolve had completely eroded. You tried to focus on grounding yourself — reminding yourself this was a safe space, but that was an empty claim to make to your shredded composure. You tried convincing your mind that Alexia’s hand in yours was comforting, when it only felt constrictive, her hand wholly enveloping yours like a snake, leaving no room to breathe. You clenched and unclenched your fist in time with your breaths, but you couldn't even inhale for a second before your mind went into overdrive. All the tools you relied on before were inadequate in that moment. The rational part of your brain slipped away, instead replaced by an instinctive need to escape. 

Surges of anger, panic, anxiety, fear, they all rose uncontrollably at once. Your jaw clenched, your free hand curled into a tight fist, and your vision turned hazy as your world dissolved into one indistinct blur.

The snapping point came abruptly. Perhaps it was a shrill laugh nearby, the clatter of a crate being dropped, or an impatient shove from someone trying to pass by. It was the smallest thing, but it tipped the scale far out of anybody’s control. You were alone in that moment. Trapped completely in your mind.

You missed how Alexia called your name over and over, how her hand nudged yours to desperately try to grasp your attention. It was only when her hands grabbed both your forearms that you were brought back down, but only for half a millisecond, before it all went south.

“What?!” You snapped at her, jumping back out of her touch. 

As a result, there were about thirty pairs of eyes on you. Everybody around paused, your sharp shout cutting through the buzz of the market, and it went so quiet that every flutter of a fly’s wing and every creek of wood could be heard. 

You took another step back when Alexia came towards you, a worrisome look on her face with her hands out in front of her like she was trying to not spook an untrusting animal in front of her. She rushed out some words of reassurance that fell into the background with all the other noises around that had picked up again, the market-goers losing interest in a seemingly harmless situation. They didn’t register within you, nor did her intentions. Your mind was far too good at playing tricks on you, convincing you of things that were far from the truth but in the moment felt like gospel.

There was no way out of where you were, both in the physical and the mental sense, and that was the main factor in the eruption that had just happened. With so many emotions coursing through you, there was an intense itch to find a release from them all. So before you realised, your arms crossed over your chest, hands on your upper arms just above your elbow, and you began to roughly palm, rub, grab at the skin there, needing a distraction from the volume of your mind and the world, whilst also desperately trying to get the movement to act as a release of the crushing press of the feelings inside of you. 

If you were alone at that time, god only knows what would have happened. Fortunately you weren’t.

The next time Alexia touched you was the featherlight weight of her hand on your lower back, the minor contact enough to lead you through the winding paths of the market. Your legs ran on autopilot, but you stumbled with every few steps, eyes too blurry to see the bumps and dips in the cobbles underneath your feet. There were probably tears down your face, though you’d reached such a broken point that your body was just… numb. You weren’t in control of anything anymore, hadn’t been for a while, but this was a new extremity. You weren’t even present in your own mind. Just an innocent, unknowing passenger in the car crash that had come out of nowhere.

Somehow, with her own hands trembling from concern, Alexia managed to lead you out of the chaos of the market to those same rusted, paint-chipped gates from earlier— the entrance of the park area. She was lost on what to do or say, but rationally she knew the only thing that would work for you right now was getting you home. 

“I will drive us back to your flat, back home, okay?” 

You gave her no indication that you heard her, which she was expecting, though you had heard the one word you were in dire need of and it was the first thing so far that managed to break through into your overwhelmed mind. Your hands were still moving roughly against the skin of your arms, sure to leave marks afterwards, but Alexia knew if she attempted to stop you, it’d only make matters worse. She had to get you home. Seeing you like this was breaking her.

It took a concerningly small amount of effort to guide you to the car; you were pliant and mindless, the exhaustion having fully taken over the minute you left the crowded space. She opened the door for you, helped you into the seat, and put the belt on. You leaned your head back against the seat rest and stared straight ahead. Whether it’d help or not, Alexia wasn’t sure. But she had to do one thing, more for the sake of her sanity than yours. With a quiet call of your name, she gently put a hand under your chin and turned you so you faced her.

“I’ll take you home and look after you. You will be okay.” She whispered, tentatively brushing away some of the tears still on your cheeks with her thumb. Her words were a sentiment for her as much as they were for you. “You’ll be okay soon.”

—

Next thing you knew, you were in your bed, lay on your side with your weighted blanket over you and Alexia nowhere to be seen.

It was definitely the calm after the storm. The room was mostly dark apart from the light that bled through the curtains which were closed, you could hear the quiet whir of the AC as well as the dull hum of traffic on the street below, but that was about it. It was a stark contrast to how things were before.

You don’t exactly remember getting home after what happened after the market, but what you did know was that though Alexia wasn’t in the room, she had been at some point, because you felt her love in the way she made sure everything was properly set up for you. The AC hadn’t been on before you left earlier and it only could have come back on by someone turning it on. The curtains were open that morning, whereas now they were drawn. And last time you checked, your blanket was still in the dryer, waiting to be taken out when you got back. 

Everything you felt earlier still echoed faintly inside your head and chest, but the weighted blanket over you helped to anchor you back to your life again, rather than the chaos you were drowning in not so long ago. Your mind was convoluted, thoughts jumbled, and you flitted from one shattered fragment of insecurity to the other. You were simply too exhausted to hold onto any of them, emotionally and mentally drained. Though, you still tried to identify what you were feeling— was it anger? Shame? Embarrassment? You couldn’t put a finger on it. 

Your hands still shook, your chest still shuddered with every breath. Your clothes still felt scratchy and overbearing, just less so now that you lay in the aftermath of it all. Instead of focusing on that, you drifted your attention to the feeling of the blanket on you; you focused on its texture, its softness, the heaviness of it and how it draped over you and helped to extinguish the flame that was overstimulation and overwhelm. These small but familiar details offered a tiny foothold in the mirror maze of your mind that you were still trying to escape from, only for the ruined reflection of you at the market to be shown back to you.

The longer you spent in that position, a deep, bone-level weariness quietly consumed you, like every aspect of you right down to your soul had been drained. But even still, your mind continued its hyperactive ways, replaying the day’s events over and over like a faulty film reel. The memory of it isn’t the slightest bit cohesive, it was just flashes of moments— the suffocating press of people from every direction, clamour of voices, the overloading mixture of scents. You alternated between frustration and exasperation, wanting to desperately forget what happened whilst not being able to move on from the embarrassment of it. 

However, the strain of it slowly began to dissipate with each minute you spent back at home in bed, a safe space where there were no expectations, where time was temporarily unimportant, and where there were no watchful eyes or scathing glares at the disruption you’d caused. And eventually, you felt like you had gained back control of your mind again. It was quieter then; the world felt muted, less aggressive, though you could feel that you were still wary of your surroundings because of how everything ambushed you earlier.

You weren’t fully recovered, you still felt heavy and your body ached due to the tension in your muscles and joints when it all came falling down, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but the sun sat a little lower on the horizon when you finally felt able to get out of bed. The desire for time alone had gone, you needed something else then, and at this point of the relationship you felt comfortable enough to seek exactly what you needed without giving it a second thought. 

The door to your room creaked like it always did when you opened it, your apartment mostly silent save for the occasional huff from the kitchen as the person you were looking for busied herself with any chore she could think of as she waited patiently for you. 

You didn’t quite know what to say, but one of the best things about your relationship was that often in times like this, words weren’t a necessity. So you bypassed her and headed straight for the sofa, sitting in the corner and curling your feet underneath you, almost like you were making yourself as small as possible. And, just as you expected, not a minute went by before the blonde headed over, trying to disguise the worry she felt by giving a tight-lipped smile that was more on the amusing side than the reassuring one.

When she sat down, however, she left a gap between you both and perched only on the edge, which wasn’t what you wanted. One shared glance later and Alexia was smiling properly this time, shuffling to sit back against the cushions and beckoning you over with a small wave of her hand. With a sheepish but slightly triumphant look on your face, you moved along the couch and chose to sit sideways on her lap, one of her arms immediately wrapping around your waist as the hand of the other landed just above your knee. She pulled you close to her, and you settled into her with a relieved sigh, indescribably glad to have the final piece of the puzzle to self-regulation in your possession.

For some time, the pair of you didn’t speak, only relishing in the comfort you both needed after the day that had been had. At some point, Alexia noticed the redness to your skin from earlier and subconsciously brought a hand up to one of your arms, her thumb gently tracing over them with a frown on her face. She felt compelled to speak then.

“Please, engel, don’t put yourself through uncomfortable situations just to make me happy. If you asked me to, I would have taken you home earlier in a heartbeat.” The midfielder said carefully, panicking a little when she heard you sigh before calming when you buried your face in her neck.

“I didn’t really know it was going to be uncomfortable until it was already happening.” You told her in a mumbled, downbeat tone that made her hug you tighter against her. She contemplated her next words, wondering whether it was wise to voice them or not, before deciding that you’d hate it if you found out she’d kept her feelings from you.

“I’ve never seen you like that before.” Her fear and sadness was evident when she spoke, matching the frown still on her face and the furrow to her brow. You pressed your lips to the skin of her jaw in a somewhat apologetic gesture, which made her feel a little bad. “We’re both okay though, mi amor. I love you and we’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s over now, it’s in the past, and we’re here together now.”

It might have been a minor reminder, but it relieved a lot of the remaining anxieties and insecurities you had. Even though she made sure you knew she never judged you for anything, you were only human, and sometimes the devil on your shoulder got the best of you. So, to hear her say she knew it wasn’t your fault and that she wasn’t angry, it was… very needed.

The mix of physical touch and words of affirmation never failed to work wonders for you. The period of time after an event like earlier was a delicate time to say the least, where your mind and your self-esteem was easily swayed by whatever reaction waited for you afterwards. Having Alexia be so welcoming, non-judgemental, caring and adoring even after what she’d witnessed made a world of a difference.

“Better day tomorrow?” You said shyly after moving back to look at her. She shook her head at first, which greatly confused you, before she smiled brightly, softly, reassuringly, and leaned forwards to kiss your temple.

“Better evening tonight after a bad day. And then a very good day tomorrow.” Her words were a little skewed, probably lost in translation, but you understand what she was getting at and it warmed your heart all the same.

It was important to you then, that you voiced your thoughts from just a moment ago. She had to know how important she was to you.

“Thank you, Ale. For everything.” You started, laughing quietly at the puzzled expression on her face. “You always know what to do, what to say. You always make me feel better after a day like this and I don’t know how you do it but… you changed my life.”

Her reaction was the sweetest. Her cheeks blushed red and she turned away for a moment with a tiny disbelieving shake of her head.

“I don’t know about that, cariño.” She murmured, but you weren’t having it. You put a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to you, ensuring she met your gaze before you spoke again.

“You did. I really mean it. I think about it a lot, how you’ve changed me, how I see myself because of you and how you treat me.” You paused for a moment, smiling up at her as her eyes silently urged you to continue. “I… value myself more because of how you value me. I don’t tell you enough how grateful I am for you and what you really mean to me. You’re the greatest person I have ever met.”

The normally sure and confident captain was rendered speechless in that moment, completely caught off guard and lost for words. How she could ever match the gravity and beauty of your words, she didn’t know. But they meant so much more to her than she knew she could ever express.

Ale ducked her head down for a moment as she really took in your words, before she lifted it back up again a moment later, with tears in her eyes. 

If only you knew how much you meant to her too.

“You’re my favourite person in the world, you know that?” She said with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, almost accusing you of foolishly being uncertain about the fact that she stated so definitively. You knew she only did that to deflect the softness of her words a little. So, you just smiled, and tucked your head back into her neck and closed your eyes, completely at peace. “My favourite person in the whole world. You changed my life too.”

—

i really really tried my best to encapsulate the autistic experience of being overstimulated and overwhelmed in such a place here but i have no idea how well it comes across to a large audience. but for me and probably others, this is the reality, no matter how much you can plan and prepare and be excited for something, it can spiral out of your control so quickly and it's definitely a downer when it happens. hope this is somewhat understandable, im gonna go hibernate out of fear now, thank you v much for reading :)

[planetaryupscaled]

Birthday Present

Male OC x Wonyoung

Tags: 11k, creampie, dub con, tw

The story is not ours; we are simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

This wasn’t what Wonyoung had planned — she didn’t expect the ‘casual’ party to blow out of proportion like this!

Loud music was blaring throughout the entire house, and a countless stream of teenagers was littering every inch of the building. She wasn’t even able to return to the living room without having to squeeze through multiple groups, by the stairs and in the hallway. Sure, it was her boyfriend’s home, but she knew that most of the clean-up would become her duty.

“Hey!” Wonyoung attempted to gain some attention of those around her. ‘Guys, could you,’ she continued timidly before even she realized that her words were completely drowned out by the music.

“Could you just… could anyone turn down the music a little? Please…”

It was no use. She was forced to keep on trying to reach the living room and to lower the volume herself.

Truth be told, this was a mess of her own making.

It had been her job to make it a special event. Her boyfriend had asked her to help with the preparations for his little brother’s birthday party. But even he probably didn’t anticipate that Wonyoung would manage to gather a crowd of this size, certainly not on short notice.

Wonyoung loved helping people, always did. She was part of the school committee, she was the representative for her class members, and she was the head cheerleader. It wasn’t that she sought out those positions, they simply ended up in her lap. Helping others brought a smile to her face, and in turn, people happily relied on her. Her generosity was widely known and accepted.

So there was no question about it. When her boyfriend asked her to help out with the preparations, she did.

It took a couple of phone calls, but her friends were happy to party! But then those friends invited more friends, and then the circle just kept on growing. She hadn’t intended for the small birthday celebration to explode into a full-blown party. She didn’t even recognize most of the faces that were present! Hell, plenty of the unfamiliar guys looked old enough to be advanced college students. Which was weird, most of her friends had just finished high school or recently entered college. There was an unexpected wide range of ages present.

“Hyeon!” She finally spotted her boyfriend near the speakers, and gestured for him to turn the music down just a little. It took him a moment to figure out her signals, but then he obliged. It was finally possible to have a normal conversation.

“Thank you so, so much!” It was a blessing to finally be able to hear herself again. She pushed her way past a few more unfamiliar faces and then gave him a hug — mostly to reassure herself. His tall, muscular frame was like a beacon of safety and comfort in this mess.

“What’s up? You doing all right?” Hyeon looked down at her and brushed a few stray strands of her dark hair from her face. They were a cute couple, and an exotic one at that. He was a just your average high school jock with skin as pale as a bottle of milk. While she was not just your typical average high school cheerleader, to the contrary. Wonyoung extremely pretty. Her pale caramel skin, as well as her dark brown eyes, made her quite the treat.

“Yeah, it’s just… how is your brother holding up? I know he’s pretty shy so maybe this isn’t… you know, optimal? I may have overdone it a little with the party? I think.” Wonyoung reflected on her words and felt a pinch of guilt. It was meant to be a perfect event, but instead she perceived it to be chaotic. Her inner perfectionist was ringing the alarm bells.

“This is totally on me…” Wonyoung sulked and briefly lowered her gaze. Hyeon however, gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“You did great, babe. I’m sure he’s having a good… time…?” Hyeon cut off his sentence after he spotted his little brother nearby. He was walking down the stairway with a camcorder in hand, with no sign of shyness.

“Is that Hajoon?” He went for a quick double- take. They both turn to observe his little brother, who was in the process of celebrating his birthday by holding up his old camcorder and recording the multitude of drunken, scantily dressed high school and college girls. It was going to be a memory he wouldn’t erase anytime soon.

“That does remind me,” Hyeon added as he redirected his attention back to Wonyoung. “He’s been struggling to, uh… to get laid… do you think you could hook him up with one of your friends?” He paused as he realized how silly his own words were, but it wouldn’t be the weirdest favor he had asked for.

“It would be one hell of a gift,” he continued. ‘I would owe you big time. He would finally stop mentioning how he wants to have his first time.’ He briefly paused and scratched the back of his head. “You can imagine how awkward it is, when your little brother tells you about wanting to get laid. I’m not even sure if he’s picky anymore, he just wants to hump a girl.”

Wonyoung grimaced slightly — truth be told, she had already tried in the past to get Hajoon into a relationship! Everybody deserves to be happy. So when she learned of Hajoon’s bad history with the ladies, she tried to get him to date one of her friends.

But he was simply too reclusive and way too much into his computer and board games. Unlike his older brother, he also wasn’t in good shape physically. He was quite chubby and made no effort to improve that situation. If only there was some way to help him. She sighed.

“I don’t know. I guess I can give it another try, sure! Let me find some liquid courage first, though.” There was no need to stay sober throughout the party, she figured. People were having a good time, so why shouldn’t she try to do the same? Who knows what the day may have in store for her.

Hajoon however, was pretty much in heaven. It didn’t take much for someone of his age to be entertained. He had never seen this many drunk girls in one place.

“Guys, are you seeing this? Jack. Pot.” He swayed the camcorder around and got a few more good shots of the surrounding girls — fortunately none of them recognized him or knew who the party was for. “Guys!” He briefly turned to ensure his two buddies were still following close behind.

“Come on, let’s keep looking!” Hajoon didn’t have many friends, partly because very few people shared his obsessions for indoor activities. But Jin and Sehun always had his back. Whether it was computer gaming, board games, anything. They kept each other company.

“What’s going on over he—ohh…” Hajoon’s voice trailed off as he pushed past another couple of teens and had a look into the kitchen. Lined up along the entire length of the kitchen counter were bottles of whiskey, vodka and other beverages. Right next to those were like a dozen plastic cups full of freshly mixed drinks, with a few empty cups scattered across the floor.

This really felt like a wild college party.

What really caught the boy’s attention however, was a young couple near the corner of the kitchen. The boy looked old enough to be a college graduate, while the girl looked freshly out of high school. What drew all attention, was where the guy’s hand was planted — deep inside her pants! His digits were moving erratically and he was quite obviously finger-fucking her.

Oddly enough it didn’t coax much of a reaction out of the girl. She had her gaze averted to the ground with a glassy-eyed stare. Were all girls like this? Hajoon murmured.

“He’s totally going at it! I’ve never seen that in real life!” Hajoon feverishly tried to zoom in with his camcorder, but failed to record anything significant before a few more guys approached from behind and firmly pushed him right out of the kitchen. It was written all across his face that he wasn’t old enough to be anywhere near alcohol. Old enough to drive a car or own a gun maybe, but not old enough to drink booze.

In the meantime, Wonyoung had a few of those drinks herself, back in the living room. Aside from an unusually salty taste, they didn’t raise any suspicion. Maybe a bit strong on the alcohol content, but decent.

However, it took her only a few minutes before she began to feel funny. More than just drunk, she felt sluggish but without feeling tired. She also felt weirdly out of breath.

Hyeon noticed rather quickly that she was behaving very unusual. She was a lightweight, but the drinks shouldn’t do more than making her feel tipsy and giddy. They certainly shouldn’t make her so… docile? She looked stoned rather than drunk.

“Wonyoung, are you all right?” He could tell that something wasn’t right.

As soon as he said that, the wheels in his head began to turn and he had another look around. In the midst of all the music and commotion, nobody had even noticed that some girls were passed out on the couch, and a random guy was sleeping on the carpet.

It made him furious to realize that someone pulled an unacceptable prank. Someone had slipped drugs into the drinks. Maybe just sleeping pills, maybe a roofie. It didn’t make a difference.

“Ah, what the hell,” he muttered under his breath before shutting down the speaker system and raising his voice to draw the attention of his guests.

“Party is over! Some asshole spiked the drinks, everyone out!” He then repeated himself once more while untangling a kissing couple that hadn’t paid attention.

The commotion had been enough to draw Hajoon’s attention as well, who quickly approached his older sibling to offer his help.

“Just in time, here.” Hyeon pushed Wonyoung into his brother’s arms while his eyes were already going back to scanning the area. He wasn’t sure how to deal with the girls who had multiple of the altered drinks and were straight up passed out. Thankfully Wonyoung was still able to stand on her own, though she was not quite grasping what was happening.

“Get her upstairs,” Hyeon instructed while giving his brother a reassuring pat on the back. “I’ll take care of the party so just get her upstairs.”

Hajoon hesitated and looked back at him with a surprised expression. Like a deer stuck in headlights. He had no idea that the drinks had been spiked so this was a confusing moment.

“Upstairs, to one of the bedrooms, what are you waiting for? I got my hands full here,” he instructed before he once more surveyed the situation. A couple guys stared at the drugged girls, so he started there and ushered the creeps out of the house. He certainly didn’t want to be the person who allowed girls to be roofied and taken advantage of at his own home.

It had all been so hectic that he didn’t even pay attention to his younger brother anymore.

Wonyoung still felt a little weird, less energetic than before. She kept an arm around Hajoon while he led her upstairs. Her surroundings didn’t even register to her until she heard the door closing behind herself, at which point she turned to see Hajoon staring right back at her.

There had been a colossal misunderstanding. As far as Hajoon knew, his older brother had just set him up with his girlfriend. A favor for sure, but an incredibly weird one. In his eyes, it certainly made sense now why they both acted so fishy. He took another moment to contemplate the situation, and then he set his camcorder aside to approach her.

“So uh,” he began to say. “He really wants me to… with you? Is that like, some kind of birthday gift?” Wonyoung gazed back at him with vacant eyes. It wasn’t that the situation was overwhelming her, she simply couldn’t motivate herself to think about it or the implication of his words.

Her thoughts were more occupied by a warm tingle in her crotch. A very special part of her was itching for attention and the moral implications didn’t cross her thoughts.

“I guess.” The response was half-hearted and she lazily lay down on his bed. It was a small bed, designed for just one person and with messy bed covers. This clearly wasn’t the bedroom of someone who ever had a girlfriend before.

She got comfortable nonetheless and buried her face in the pillow. For a brief moment, things were quiet and peaceful…

It didn’t remain like that for long. A pair of hands reached around to unbutton her jeans, and she instinctively groaned her lazy disapproval.

“What… what are you doing back there?” Wonyoung twisted herself around and onto her back to see those same fingers grasping the waistband of her pants and gradually pulling them down. Before she had a chance to object properly, her jeans were already halfway down to her ankles and revealed what she wore underneath.

Her panties were an innocent pair of pink, frilled cotton undies.

Hajoon scarcely believed his own eyes, up to then he had assumed she was some kind of secret seductress. That she and his brother had some kinky relationship which they had been keeping hidden. That of course, she would be wearing something lewd like a thong. But no, apparently, she was truly conservative and… prudish?

The old, washed-out fabric clung snugly to the shape of her vulva. Despite her unsexy taste in underwear, she obviously possessed a pussy — which was all that currently mattered to Hajoon. But if she felt conscious about her panties…

“I don’t mind, I guess they’re cute,” he mumbled while he gave her pants another tug and pulled them off completely to focus entirely on her underwear. Wonyoung was still barely reacting to his actions. She was quietly observing him. Whatever had been mixed into the drinks was keeping her sedated far beyond her control. It also didn’t help that she was feeling weirdly excited and aroused — another effect of the cocktail.

As far as Hajoon was concerned, she was simply shy about this arrangement. So when he touched her panties, grasped the soft fabric, and began to peel the material off her smooth silky skin, all he could think about was losing his virginity with her help.

It was a gradual process, he didn’t want to rush this considering how relaxed she seemed to be. Maybe she wanted this to be romantic, who knows. After all the struggle, finally, Wonyoung's perfectly smooth-shaven pussy was revealed. This discovery only made her more appealing.

But even under the effect of alcohol and whatever else had been mixed into the drinks, Wonyoung gradually felt her heart beating faster. Adrenaline began to pump through her at an alarming rate. Her mind began to grasp that she was about to have sexual intercourse with someone other than her boyfriend.

“Uhmm.” She paused for a moment. It was so damned difficult to gather her thoughts and think straight. How did she end up in this situation?

Wonyoung eyes wandered up and down the view in front of her. The way Hajoon was removing her underwear. How his gaze kept fixating on her crotch. Something about this was alerting her. But just as her emotions began to take shape in more coherent thoughts, she felt another dulling wave of drowsiness washing over her.

Wonyoung leaned back, and took a deep breath. Her head rested on the cushy pillow. She watched her boyfriend’s brother tossing her underwear away before standing back up to undress. She could vaguely recall the prior chat. About hooking him up with someone. Maybe… she had volunteered? Perhaps she had agreed to help him out in a more direct way.

In her drugged state, it made just enough sense.

Her gaze was glued to him and his actions, she had never been with anyone but her boyfriend so this was new. Hajoon was without a doubt on the chubby side. And as he took off his pants, she also noted that he wasn’t particularly well endowed.

But he definitely was excited and steadily growing. Wonyoung however, was still at the mere beginnings of feeling aroused, she knew that having sex in her current state would be unpleasant. So she reluctantly reached under her shirt, pushed her bra out of the way and began to caress her breasts. Some part of her knew that this would be the only foreplay she would get. As long as she could get herself wet enough to make his entry easy, she knew that her body would take care of the rest.

Simultaneously, Hajoon held his semi-erect appendage in his fist and stroked it to life while watching her. He glanced back and forth between the motion underneath her shirt, and the triangle between her legs. The awkward teenagers continued like that for longer than either of them would care to admit.

Wonyoung eventually reached down to the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and away, discarding her last piece of clothing. Her perky breasts were crowned by stiff nipples, hinting at her own growing excitement.

Her moral barrier was all but torn down, she was no longer conscious of the fact that she was about to cheat on her boyfriend. Unlike all the girls downstairs, she didn’t have anyone to keep her safe and to prevent her from committing a mistake.

Hajoon joined her side, and the bed creaked bitterly in response. The rusty bedsprings weren’t made to endure the weight of two people. He climbed on top of Wonyoung while supporting himself on his elbows, and his erection poked her belly button. He wasn’t even close to his target destination.

It coaxed a timid giggle out of her.

“Wait, I got this,” he uttered nervously. Hajoon then readjusted his angle and reached down to grasp the veiny, firm surface of his dick. It felt harder than ever before, and throbbed in tune to his nervous heartbeat. He knew that he wouldn’t last long once he was inside her, but that didn’t matter.

The bloated crown of his appendage gradually slid down towards her crotch, accompanied by a very fine trail of pre-cum which clung to her pale caramel skin. It didn’t help that he was particularly aware of some fruity adolescent perfume that surrounded her and made her even more intoxicating to be with. Everything about Wonyoung was feminine and attractive. All of this had been developing so fast that he barely had the time to fully process it. But he wasn’t about to pause.

His cock nestled in the midst of her pussy lips and he could feel his tip pressing against her skin. He gave it an inquisitive jerk forward, but merely lured a displeased groan out of her.

Wonyoung felt him awkwardly applying pressure to her clit with that bloated head of his cock. Hajoon was still a couple inches away from his target.

“It’s lower than that…” she mumbled.

Wonyoung waited another moment while he fidgeted with her genitals, before she reached down and wrapped her slender fingers around his shaft. The first thing she noticed was how warm his cock felt! After her initial surprise faded, she guided his purple cockhead down to the slit of her pussy and towards the snug embrace of her labia. She directed his dick up and down until it was decently held in place by her own body, until it was wedged in place just in front of the tiny opening that would lead inside her.

The bed squeaked as Hajoon suddenly lunged forward and buried his length inside Wonyoung pussy with a single push, just like he had seen in porn. His inexperience was painfully obvious and Wonyoung suffered the consequences of being his first.

Wonyoung inhaled sharply and tensed up. Despite being wet enough for his entry, she hadn’t been prepared to take in everything at once! Her boyfriend had never pushed into her like a savage, it had always been a slow and gradual process to open her up.

“This is amazing,” he spoke breathlessly, his voice heavy and sultry. Simultaneously he was still wriggling his hips forward, and fully ignored the way his pubic bone was already grinding against hers.

Wonyoung hadn’t even noticed the way she had instinctively wrapped her legs around him — it felt like someone had shoved a scalding metal rod into her privates and was still trying to push it deeper.

“I think… it’s all inside.” Wonyoung response was a mixture of half-hearted wit and dumbfound frustration. She knew well enough that she would be sore for the following few days after such a callous entry. Her vagina wasn’t built for such rough treatment. The silken walls were involuntarily clenching down on his member but unsuccessful in expelling the invader. She could feel herself stretching to accommodate his manhood, adapting to make room for him, allowing him to become a part of her.

Just like he had seen on the internet, he began his slow withdrawal followed by another push back inside her. He copied the motions to the best of his abilities.

A slippery squelch escaped Wonyoung womanhood, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks. It was either her own arousal, or an ample serving of pre-cum which helped to lubricate her pussy. Either way, it paved the path for him to pick up a clumsy pace of burying his entire length in her, pulling out, and repeating the process.

Throughout it all, Wonyoung remained fully aware of the heat his cock was emitting within her tight sheathe. Each time Hajoon buried his cock inside her, she could feel it like fireworks going off against her delicate flesh. The heat, the texture of his erection, the veiny shape, she felt it all as he repeatedly drove it home.

Every other slap was more deliberate than the last, and soon the sounds of his skin slapping against hers echoed throughout the small room each time his crotch impacted with Wonyoung’s. Her small breasts rocked back and forth in tune to the rhythmical motion of her body, the petite girl was like a doll while under the mercy of his actions. This wasn’t the romantic love-making that she was used to, it was an act with a singular goal in mind.

With little else to do but to bear the sensations, she grasped the bed sheets more tightly and dug her fingers into the fabric.

She also unwrapped her legs from around his back and placed her feet back on the mattress — this was an encounter she did not intend to repeat. She wanted him to do whatever he desired and to get it over with quickly.

And yet despite her mental struggle, Wonyoung found herself feeling playful, almost giddy. A part of her was enjoying the knowledge that her body brought him such joy. She also felt desired and appreciated beyond anything she felt in the past. Perhaps with a bit more foreplay, she thought, this might have felt amazing, even for her.

“Do you… do you like it?” Wonyoung asked, those words bashfully while her innocent eyes gazed back up at him as if seeking his approval. As she lowered her view back down to her crotch, she could see as well as feel the way he kept pulling his hungry cock nearly all the way out of her — leaving her with a sensation of emptiness inside her — and then slamming back into her. Each impact coaxed another stifled sigh out of her, it was all she could do to prevent herself from moaning.

She still believed that her friends were hosting a party downstairs. She didn’t want to create any noise.

“Fuck,” Hajoon cursed, as he felt the tightness of Wonyoung’s cunt squeezing down on his cock. “Yea-yeah,” was all he could muster in response as he kept on focusing entirely on that wet hug of her pussy. Wonyoung kept tensing up, he could tell. Voluntarily or not, it felt incredible to have her flesh so tight around his shaft. Every clench of her flesh just heightened his pleasure, driving him on to make this last for as long as he could.

It was his first time, however.

Wet perspiration was collecting on his back, his muscles were aching and shivering from exhaustion, and all he could think about was that paradise between Wonyoung’s legs. His basic instincts were urging him on to claim her completely in whatever way possible.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, he could feel himself approaching his peak. An explosion of pleasure that concentrated in his loins. He shoved his entire weight against and into her. He deliberately wanted to share this moment with her, all of it, forcing it on her.

So when a familiar tingle was spreading from his crotch all the way to the tip of his erection, he made sure to keep it buried as deep in her little twat as she could take it. Wonyoung’s vulva kissed the base of his cock. She had taken every inch. They were one.

His orgasm began with a single pulse at first.

It was also right then, that Wonyoung fully comprehended what felt so different this time, compared to sex she usually had with her boyfriend. Today she was acutely aware of the shape and heat of her partner’s erection because it was not engulfed by a thick layer of latex, she realized. There was no condom!

For the first time in her life, she was committing to unprotected intercourse. And to make matters worse, it was with someone other than her boyfriend. Those pink walls of her pussy had been in direct contact with a naked, uncovered cock. It was the first time that she had sex completely bareback and as nature intended.

Squirt.

Wonyoung inhaled sharply at that, like something had just touched the very end of her love-tunnel. A sickeningly strong spurt of… wetness. That thought didn’t prepare her for the following squirts, which felt twice as intense — her mind made the connection with a super soaker as it was emptying a blast inside her! It felt strong and masculine as it washed into her.

It was weird, but not nearly as bad as the discomfort it caused. Those pumps delivered the payload of cloudy sperm right up against her cervix, coating the smooth organ with a fine slathering of creamy seed. Wonyoung flinched each time Hajoon injected another serving of baby gravy against that uttermost sensitive part inside her.

His member kept jerking against the vulnerable walls of her cunt. It was a huge load.

“You can’t…” Wonyoung mumbled. “You gotta… you can’t cum inside me.” Her words were incoherent, and it was also too little, too late. His organ already delivered nearly a dozen spurts directly into her. Even Wonyoung understood that much.

Up to now, nobody had been allowed to ejaculate inside her. Not even her own boyfriend had gotten to enjoy that privilege. This had all been intended to be a one-sided deal, that she would help Hajoon to lose his virginity. But instead, it had turned into a mutual exchange, in which she was allowed to claim his virginity, and he would be allowed to claim her bareback virginity. Her excited pussy got its first taste of semen, and would without a doubt, never forget its first unprotected conqueror.

“Ahh… no…” It was part of her mother’s advice, which had been repeatedly drilled into her head as soon as she had her first period. The women in her family were incredibly fertile, and she should not be taking any risks until she was absolutely ready to become a mom.

All of her sisters had at least one pregnancy scare, too. Despite combining multiple birth control methods.

Wonyoung had no doubts about it. That stubborn triangle between her legs would be more than happy to accept any lucky sperm, and to put her right on course for an early motherhood.

But yet here she was with her trembling legs wide open like a wanton slut, and a real penis throbbing to deliver the final watery spurts of sperm into her battered cunt.

It was almost as if he was seriously trying to inseminate her defenseless vagina. To give her a baby bump and to ruin her prospects of remaining a cheerleader. Wonyoung could feel herself clenching down on his erection at the thought of that, and in response, his member flexed aggressively against the walls of her cunt.

Just like a mare, she thought, she had been mounted and potentially impregnated. Like she was nothing more than an animal. Her family would never forgive her if they found out she made such a mistake, nor would her boyfriend…

“What am I supposed to do now…?” Everything inside her felt gross and slippery. Each time he moved even an inch, she could feel his organ moving inside the puddle he dumped inside her. She might never again feel clean. Her pussy had gotten its first creampie, the most intimate event a girl and a boy can share with one another.

Followed by a bitter sigh, Wonyoung plopped back against the pillow with her legs still open and her lover sheathed inside her vagina. More of his weight was resting on her now, after he had deposited his cum in her and had lost his strength.

There was little she could do now that he already came in her, and her mind was weirdly at ease with the thought. Still, she knew of the risk. She also knew she didn’t want to get knocked up at such a tender young age.

All that adrenaline, which coursed through her veins like never before, helped her to temporarily form a more coherent thought.

An obvious idea occurred to her.

A simple solution to this mess, thanks to modern science. Unlike her mother or her grandmother, she wasn’t completely at the mercy of her partner. A single accident wouldn’t permanently doom her, she couldn’t allow that to happen, she wouldn’t.

Wonyoung extended her arm as far as it would go and pulled her discarded clothes close enough to retrieve her phone. Her sluggish mind was whirring and spinning while she stared at the bright digital screen, until she remembered her password. She navigated her way to the calendar and created a simple reminder; Purchase plan B, ASAP.

Even if it took a day, even if it would take two days, she would be fine. It was a relief. She wouldn’t have to endure a baby growing inside her and she sure as hell wouldn’t have to endure weeks of morning sickness just because she once forgot using a condom.

Throughout it all, Hajoon remained on top of her. Her breasts did little to cushion the way he was pinning her in place. He was truly spent now that he had thoroughly enjoyed his birthday present.

Wonyoung placed her phone on the nightstand, uttered a weary sigh and closed her eyes. She could still feel the vastness of cum that was swirling around inside her vagina. It was so warm and sticky, distinctly different from her own wetness. It didn’t feel right. She felt tainted and dirty. There was a very good reason for why she had never permitted her boyfriend to soil her insides like this.

Even the thought was obscene — that she currently carried millions of his little swimmers inside her womb. Wiggly little sperm tadpoles. Each one with the single goal of ruining her teenage years, by forcing her into an unplanned pregnancy. Sometimes, being a girl certainly sucks… she thought.

And every now and then Wonyoung could feel her pussy twitching around Hajoon shrinking shaft, as if to make up for the growing emptiness within her. Everything about this felt too intimate. She could scarcely believe it, but it almost felt like her vagina was falling in love with the bareback sensation. She grimaced at the thought, but nonetheless felt a warm pressure in her loins. A deep satisfaction. If he wanted to go for another round, she would probably let him.

The room was quiet… she couldn’t even hear the party downstairs anymore. It was fairly tranquil and serene, she thought. Caught by the sullen silence, the two teenagers were moments from falling asleep, entangled as they were.

Until the door handle twisted, and turned.

The bedroom door opened. Jin and Sehun — those friends of Hajoon — entered the room only to change their expressions from ones of curiosity, into ones of surprise and shock.

“Are we interrupting? We’re interrupting,” Sehun said while already being in the midst of trying to close the door again.

“Wait,” Hajoon answered. He was still surprisingly out of breath. “It’s cool. She offered to help me lose my… uh, my virginity. My brother made it happen, I guess. So it’s all good. She isn’t cheating or anything… what are you doing here anyway? Wait, did he… did he send you?”

The situation was weird without a doubt, and Hajoon had no intention of remaining completely naked in the presence of his buddies. He rolled over to cover himself with the bed covers.

Which left Wonyoung with the feeling of how his softened member slipped out of her, with a slick pop, after which a tendril of warm cum drooled out of her freshly fucked pussy. Everything down there felt swollen, tender and sticky. Since she wasn’t making an effort to move, her senses were acutely aware of how all that cum was gradually escaping her. It began to leak out of her slit more richly, oozing down the cheeks of her bum and pooling underneath her.

“Well… he did send us, yeah. But he said something about checking up on everyone. I don’t think this is what he meant…” Sehun surveyed the situation. “But hey, I’m not gonna pass up on this. If she’s all right with it? And if you don’t mind either?”

“Yeah sure, go for it.” Hajoon had his share of fun. He didn’t mind sharing the experience with his closest friends, as well.

None of the guys asked Wonyoung, who still lay on the bed. Considering how widely known her helpful attitude was, the boys simply assumed this was all part of her charity. That she offered herself to be used for their entertainment however they saw fit.

Who knows, maybe this was even some fetish she had, Hajoon thought to himself. She did seem completely at ease with everything, other than that little accident inside her pussy. But even that unwelcome cream filling didn’t seem to bother her much at all. It gave him a newfound motivation to indulge in what he assumed to be her kink.

“Go ahead,” he suggested as he climbed off the bed while keeping the covers wrapped around his lower half.

Sehun and Jin still stood a good distance away. After a brief moment of contemplation, Sehun shrugged his shoulders and began to strip. He was surprisingly fit, with mildly toned muscles underneath his clothes. He wasn’t short on confidence either, he was the only one in their small circle of friends who had an easy time with the ladies.

And so, while Hajoon and Jin retreated with chairs to a corner of the room, to watch the show, Sehun approached the bedside.

“I always thought you were the prettiest.” His eyes wandered over Wonyoung curves. Her pristine, beautiful skin was free of any marks or imperfections. Sehun reached out to give her left tit an inquisitive squeeze.

“The real deal, sweet. I kinda prefer girls with bigger breasts, but it’s not like you’re offering a boobjob anyway.” His gaze moved up and he briefly looked into Wonyoung’s eyes. He could see a trace of confusion and fright, locked behind the entrancing shade of hazelnut of her iris, as if she was trapped inside her own mind. He recognized the look, it was the same one all the intoxicated girls downstairs had.

Wonyoung was fighting a losing battle, certainly. Each little rush of adrenaline had less of an effect to free her mind, she was rapidly succumbing to the alcohol and whatever else she ingested.

“She had a bit too much to drink, didn’t she?” Sehun contemplated the situation for a moment, but it wasn’t his fault that she got herself into this mess. This would be an easy way of teaching her a lesson, while he and his friends would get to have fun. It was harmless anyway, he figured, it’s not like they were harming her.

Sehun knew nothing of the trouble that was brewing in Wonyoung’s loins, with more cum trickling towards her cervix.

Wonyoung still looked up at him, dazed and intoxicated as she was. Each time she breathed in, she grew more aware of the vile scent of drying sperm and her own vaginal juices that seeped into the air and filled the room with the smell of unprotected sex. All she could hope for was an opportunity to fall asleep and to rest.

She simply wanted this to be over, even her own arousal was giving her little more than embarrassment and shame. She took no joy or pride in the fact that everyone currently in the room knew what her cunt smelled like when she was in the mood for another cock. Her pussy was pleading for another dick to own her. But instead, Sehun moved his hand toward her cheek and beyond, grabbing the pillow her head was resting on. With one swift tug, he pulled it away and she uttered a displeased groan in response as her head plopped onto the firm mattress.

It was the beginning of something new, as Sehun relocated the pillow and pushed it underneath Wonyoung’s shapely buttocks. One strong push and it was in place. It raised her crotch, higher up than the rest of her body and much easier to access.

Sehun climbed on top of her.

“Tell me that I’m your boyfriend,” Sehun instructed as he reached for his erection, and used his grip to rub the blunt tip of his cock against the shrouded little point of pleasure, just atop her slit. Wonyoung’s perfectly shaven pussy had gotten sticky with a mixture of fluids. His cockhead applied a gentle pressure on it, just enough to make her curious.

“Ah… ahnn!” Wonyoung released a tender moan, and her soft voice helped to coax more life into his erection. “My… my boyfriend?” She had never felt anything like this. Sex had always been something she would do just to get it over with. It had never even occurred to her, or her boyfriend, that sex could be pleasurable for both of them.

It was her upbringing which had taught her that everything between her legs was a no-no area. So many sensations were flooding her brain, her body was more than amped up to receive more attention.

“You are… my boyfriend?” She weakly repeated his words, though she didn’t care to understand their meaning. She simply wanted this moment to continue. Free of shame and stress, this was the first time that she discovered a new side of herself. And despite her frail and tired mind, she suddenly felt a new rush of energy to urge her onwards.

“That’s right.” Sehun drew small circles around her opening, a dab of his pre-cum smeared all over Wonyoung’s smooth pussy lips.

When he was finally pleased with her growing need, he pushed his cock down to knock against the entrance to her juicy cunt. The battered lips of her pussy were drenched, it was either a mess of her own creation or leftovers from Hajoon’s deposit inside her cunt. She was about to accept the second unprotected dick of her life into her body.

Much like it happened with the first one, she was vaguely aware of a gentle push, followed by the feeling of being spread open by something. This is it, Wonyoung contemplated, and the tip of his erection entered her. She had taken him inside and she was once again allowing a guy to relish the wet embrace of her cunt.

The anxious fear crossed her mind again, as she remembered that she still wasn’t on any birth control. At this rate, she may end up taking another warm batch of sperm into her most vulnerable core — her blind reliance on taking a morning after pill was nagging her. She knew this was a bad idea, and yet—

“Ahnnn!” Wonyoung uttered another perplexed moan as she felt the manly appendage invading her further, stretching her womanhood far more so than the first cock she took.

It was only when she planted her hands on the mattress to push herself into a more upright position that she could gaze at the obscene sight that was playing out further down. While the shadow cast by Sehun’s body made it harder to observe, Wonyoung was able to see the way his grotesquely thick cock was worming its way into her. He would pull back by an inch, and then feed two inches back into her. His actions also just so happened to push all the remaining cum deeper inside her.

“Nnnh,” Wonyoung sighed bitterly. Sehun monstrous size was pushing against some particularly sensitive parts and she was rapidly approaching her breaking point. There was only so much she could safely accommodate, before she would feel the sheer strain and burden of trying to force something unusually big into her. “It won’t fit, it doesn’t fit,” she mumbled with her broken voice, a plea that was ignored. Her hands clutched the bed’s fabric more tightly.

Sehun kept on applying more pressure with every other thrust, coaxing her insides to accept him. It was fortunate that she was so damn wet, otherwise this would’ve proven uncomfortable for both.

Wonyoung’s fists gradually unclenched as she managed to relax. Her breathing still came deep and ragged, and her mouth felt dry, but she was getting used to it all. Even the sounds no longer caused her as much discomfort — that repetitive slick noise each time his member pushed inwards. The way her battered pussy lips simply opened up and allowed his erection to plunge deeper still.

She refused to say it out loud, but it was beginning to feel weirdly pleasant. It felt just right, the way Sehun managed to stimulate those unknown parts within her. Those tender spots she never knew existed.

“Ah! Ohh…” A particularly sharp moan left her brittle lips as she felt him delving deeper than even Hajoon managed to, yet undiscovered parts were opening up to accommodate her lover. In response, Wonyoung parted her legs further.

One foot slipped just off the edge of the bed and dangled uselessly above the carpet, while her other foot remained atop the mattress. Even so, all it did was creating more space inside her. An act that allowed Sehun to pick up the pace with which he was mating with her.

It shaped up to be a proper fuck, with deep hard strokes.

It was so much more intense than she could’ve ever anticipated, a workout for her untrained pussy. And as those ebbing waves of soreness, excitement and lust kept retreating and returning, she soon found herself reaching another height she had yet to experience.

Her first orgasm.

It began with a sensation similar to having just burned herself, her instincts urged her on to touch herself, to reassure herself that she was okay. It was accompanied by a squeezing that she was aware of each time he thrust into her. The soft, slick walls of her cunt clenched down on his member when he pushed in, and when he withdrew she felt empty and hollow. It was like a weird, twisted dance.

Soon she could feel a heaviness emanating from just below her belly button.

It seemed to be spreading in a butterfly shape, growing outwards. It reached down to her thighs, and all the way up to the tips of her tingly fingers. Its intensity kept climbing until she sighed, and bit her lip hard enough to draw traces of blood.

She suddenly felt lightheaded and breathless. Warm shocks of bliss rolled through her and accompanied the fullness in her pussy. Her eyes were shut tight and all her senses concentrated on those feelings, the confusion and joy of her first climax. It felt so damn good.

Simultaneously, Sehun could feel her vagina rhythmically contracting around his dick, damn well making it impossible to push as deep as he had grown accustomed to. But he didn’t need to.

Just as Wonyoung was in the midst of an orgasm, her lover joined her. He repeated the same motions that had forced her over the edge. He fucked into her as he began to deliver a row of thick, virile spurts of semen into the depths of Wonyoung’s defenseless vagina. His persistent thrusting only helped to push it deeper.

Her cervix repeatedly dipped into the sticky mess, in tune to her barely suppressed moans.

A milky pool of cum all but drowned her vulnerable cervix. The boys were certainly doing their very best to try and seal her fate, knowingly or not, they were breeding her unprotected cunt.

The pillow underneath her peach-shaped buttocks all but ensured the sperm had nowhere to go but where it belonged most. She still shivered and gasped, even when her partner slowed down and paused.

“And that’s… that’s how you get it done…”

Sehun allowed his muscles to relax, now that his job was finished. The exertion of his work came crushing down on him. His full weight was lowered onto Wonyoung while he gasped for fresh oxygen.

The air was heavy with the salty taste of sweat and exhaustion. He leered down at her with a toxic, lecherous stare when she eventually opened her eyes. It had taken her a while to recover. He knew he had succeeded in something that perhaps nobody else had attempted yet — to ride her to the peak of pleasure.

Simultaneously, Wonyoung’s senses returned and she regretfully grew aware of that new, added heat in her loins. That damp warmth from all the recklessly deposited sperm that now resided within her. She had taken it all, like a gift she couldn’t return anymore.

Their crotches were fused together for the time being, and she could feel him softening against the tender sides of her pussy.

Even her vulva, somehow, felt more bruised and battered. There were so many things she was suddenly in the midst of discovering. It’s like her world was finally filled with color again, it was real and vivid. Whatever had been mixed into her drink was slowly leaving her system, but the influence of alcohol still affected her strongly.

“Are you… did you… finish?” Her words came timidly. The weight of the situation was slowly closing in on her and she wasn’t sure how to react.

Her caring nature and positivity, clashed with the overwhelming mess this turned out to be.

“Yeah. It was amazing. You were amazing.” Sehun lowered his gaze down to where their genitals were still hugging one another, and slowly withdrew from her sloppy insides. It coaxed a few gasps and sighs from Wonyoung, but he soon felt himself popping free from her pussy’s tight embrace. The way the pillow kept Wonyoung’s crotch propped up, allowed him a particularly lewd sight.

His limp member dangled above her gaping, abused opening and dripped remnants of their combined juices all over, and into, the overexerted slit of her cunt. The shade of his expelled cum blends perfectly with Wonyoung’s pale skin.

It was a strange sight for Wonyoung who never had sex without a condom, and never saw a guy’s ejaculate outside of a thick latex prison. It confirmed her suspicions, she really didn’t like the feeling nor the sight of spunk. Though she couldn’t deny that she had at least a little bit of fun… no that was an understatement. She had to be honest to herself, it had been her first orgasm.

“So who is next,” Hajoon asked. “Jin, you wanna have a go at her? We wouldn’t judge you or anything if you don’t wanna,” he continued while he observed his friend’s reaction.

Of the three friends, Jin was certainly the least social one. Which didn’t mean that he was bad looking by any means, but he was scrawny and quick to grow nervous. Which was entirely to be expected considering he grew up in a household with half a dozen siblings. As the youngest sibling of the bunch, he had always been teased and made fun of. He never had a chance to build his confidence.

“I don’t know, maybe?” His gaze jumped back and forth between his friends, and the cute girl, Wonyoung. who was waiting on the bed with her legs wide open, ready to be fucked with a sullen expression. She didn’t seem too happy about the situation, but she also didn’t glare or anything. She had accepted her fate.

She did however moan sweetly when a pair of fingers delved into her pussy — and shoved all that previously deposited warm lubrication inwards. An unpleasant but familiar sensation, at this point. Sehun seemed to be taking great delight in groping her in every way he could. His sperm-covered fingers left her pussy and trailed back up to her taut, flat stomach — where he drew a wet circle around her belly button before moving further up to cup her breast. A soft squeeze confirmed that her tits were just as responsive as her cunt.

“Yeah, I kind of wanna try.” Jin watched the show and it was mesmerizing. His brothers often brought drunk girls home, and they often would end up being rather vocal about their nightly entertainment.

Unlike Hajoon, Jin had never complained about wishing to lose his virginity. But much like his friends, he failed to see a reason to pass up on this opportunity.

“Sure, she’s ready to go,” Sehun responded while he climbed off the bed.

Once again nobody bothered to inquire for Wonyoung’s thoughts on the matter. She wasn’t even comfortable with her spot on the bed — the pillow elevated her midsection, sure, but that caused her head to rest on the rigid mattress. And her vagina was sore and achy. She also hated the feeling of sperm wedged into every crevice of her cunt.

Though just as she was about to voice her discomfort, Jin climbed on top of her. There wasn’t much wiggle room — it was still just a tiny bed, designed for just one person — so when he planted his elbows on either side of her, she could only glance left and right in case she still had a chance to slip away. She couldn’t.

“Could you… like… turn around?” Jin gazed down at Wonyoung, and for the first time she actually had the presence of mind to look back up at him.

“Turn around,” she repeated his words, albeit more slowly as if trying to decipher the meaning. “What do you mean?” She turned her head and looked at the wooden headrest of the bed. It took her another moment to comprehend his intentions — to turn her body!

She’s never had sex in any position but missionary. It hadn’t occurred to her that some people may have a preference. Wonyoung awkwardly twisted and turned her body around and found herself face-to-face with the mattress she had gotten so familiar with. She also felt the pillow now digging into her crotch. The result was the same, her cunt was raised and easy to access.

A strong blush crept across her cheeks, a burning shame. The growing awareness wasn’t entirely a good thing…

Wonyoung could soon feel something poking her labia again. It was a surprise that her crotch hadn’t turned into more of a sloppy mess, but that simply meant most cum was still somewhere inside her.

Which wasn’t reassuring. Wonyoung felt nauseous, thinking she might get knocked up. She briefly wondered just how much cum would fit into her, before even her baby-frenzied vagina would begin to spit it back out. But then she remembered that even if her pussy would be filled to the brim, her elevated crotch was giving all their combined cum a chance to needle through her cervix and to drool right into her womb.

She shivered warmly and sighed, just long enough for her to question if her vivid imagination coaxed another orgasm out of her… The gentle, careful prodding ceased when she felt Jin’s cock head had successfully located her slit. It made her feel so very vulnerable. She was naked and exposed, and so cursed helpless — yet she did not dare make a fuss about it. Just one more time, she thought to herself. They’re almost done, then I can shower and go home.

Jin inched his hips forward, he had observed the prior dance long enough to have a general idea of how it was done. The bulbous cockhead nudged between Wonyoung’s swollen pussy lips, pushed them apart and then entered the welcoming heat of her loins.

He moaned with a mixture of excitement and surprise — it surpassed his expectations! So caught up in the moment, he eagerly intended to claim more of this newfound pleasure and pushed onwards, slowly but deliberately.

It was an effortless process, Wonyoung took him in with ease. At least physically. Her mind was rebelling. She crossed her arms in front of her face and hid herself, an attempt to conceal her expression — torn between shame, confusion and guilty pleasure.

Her new partner wasn’t as large as the previous ones, but everything inside her had become so sensitive that he didn’t need to be well endowed. She could feel every stroke, every throb. She could hear the soft creaking of the bed frame as he added more weight to her, and she could smell the potent scent of frequent intercourse. Her senses were drowning in an ocean of lust and everything tied to it.

Jin was taking his time, or at least tried to. He was inching back and forth, as if he was afraid he may break her if he pushed too deep, or too fast. He also wanted to make it memorable for himself, stretching these moments for as long as he could manage. Even if two other guys had already used her, it still felt like her pussy was tight enough to snap his dick. It was an impossible embrace, mayhap related to her youth, or rigorous exercise as cheerleader. Whatever it was caused by, it was a blessing.

Another subtle moan left him as he tried to thrust forward and was met with more resistance. It had no right to feel this good to have sex with her, and it was taking his breath away. It was the single-most special experience in his entire life.

Wonyoung felt similar. Her entire crotch felt like it was heating up or burning, like all the nerve endings were firing off signals left and right, to signal her what she already knew: Only her cunt mattered.

Every other push drove those thoughts home, and soaked her mind with more desire. A taboo kind of desire that seemed to be fighting with what little was left of her rational mind.

Wonyoung listened to the way each thrust forced a wet squelch out of her beaten cunt and she moaned sultry. Though just as she was getting closer to claiming another orgasm for herself, she heard her lover releasing a more drawn-out moan. His voice was mixed with emotional release and regret, but also genuine joy. Wonyoung pinched her wrist, to distract herself from the sudden sensation of more cum being delivered into her violated cunt. Hot, sticky bursts showered the depths of her cunny with everything he had stored in his weary testicles. Weeks, maybe months’ worth of pent up semen.

“Ahnn!” She moaned by sheer accident, just as she felt a particular forceful burst against the end of her love tunnel. It was humiliating, she didn’t feel like she had any control over the situation. At least it was over. Or so she thought.

“Are you done? I kind of want to go again,” Hajoon asked. Nobody had the heart or motivation to deny him. They switched places and Wonyoung once again found herself getting used for sex.

It wasn’t a gentle fuck by any means, every thrust caused her face to rub across the mattress, but her energy was depleted. Everything began to blur into one big event, seemingly endless. Her thoughts dimmed and calmed down as she accepted that this would go on for much, much longer.

It was in the midst of that encounter that she finally fell victim to her exhaustion.

After all that had happened, she reached her limit and passed out while still being pounded from behind. It wasn’t graceful and it certainly wasn’t ladylike.

His crotch simply continued to repeatedly slap against the perky cheeks of her behind, to sink every inch of his overeager erection back into her sheathe. Subtle ripples waved outwards each time his flesh impacted with her buttocks. Nobody paid attention to the way she barely reacted anymore. If anything, they took it as sign that she finally consented fully. That she was merely ashamed of enjoying herself.

Hajoon didn’t notice, not even when he came inside her for a second time. Nor did his friends notice that she wasn’t awake anymore when they continued taking turns with her. Until the evening truly came to an end, until they were well and truly sated… Wonyoung had a dreamless slumber. Her body had desperately attempted to rid itself of all the toxins but it didn’t have any power left to spare. Her sleep wasn’t a restful one whatsoever.

A splitting headache assaulted her as soon as she opened her eyes again, much later.

“What the hell did I do…?” She mumbled to herself lethargically, while placing both hands on the sides of her head as if she was afraid it may fall off. Her throat felt incredibly dry, like she hadn’t had a sip of water for weeks. She also noticed that her entire body felt sore which usually only happened after overexerting herself at the gym.

Her mind was a foggy mess. She truly couldn’t remember anything other than getting drunk and praying that someone would turn down the music. The last time she had gotten blackout drunk like this was… on her birthday, probably. Where was she anyway?

She took a quick, panicked look around and found herself still at her boyfriend’s home, in one of the guest rooms. All alone. It was reassuring, even if she couldn’t recall how she got there. Someone must have carried her.

Presumably her boyfriend, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The blanket clung to her skin, that’s how sticky and sweaty she was. Even in her moody and drained state, she felt grossed out. If there ever had been a time that she needed a good hot shower, this was it. The poor state she was in became more obvious as she crawled out of bed and felt her legs trembling miserably. She walked like a zombie, stumbling forward and dragging her hands along the walls, as she pushed herself to the bathroom without second guessing just why she was already naked. Her eyes fixated entirely on the path ahead of her.

When she finally reached the bathtub, she sat under the showerhead and allowed the warm water to sprinkle over her naked body, which finally lured a groan out of her. She tugged her knees in and rested for what felt like an eternity, simply relaxing and recovering. Her joints ached and her muscles still felt stiff, so it felt heavenly to have a thousand water drops massaging the entirety of her body for so long.

She eventually pulled herself back up to her feet, finished her shower and dried herself off with a cozy, soft towel. It was a treat to feel the fabric caressing her. She studied herself in front of the bathroom mirror while doing so, and for the first time, noticed that her entire vaginal area was enflamed and red. She leaned forward to take a better look, and parted the swollen lips with her fingertips. Her actions were slow and gentle, as if she was afraid she may break something down there by touching it.

Some kind of cloudy, sticky discharge trickled down her thighs almost immediately, and she uttered a startled gasp. It was a mystery to her why she might be so dripping wet on the inside. Did she have some kind of wet dream before she woke up? She wasn’t sure, but she sure as heck hoped that she hadn’t masturbated in the guest room while she was drunk out of her mind. Oh god, even the thought made her nearly choke in embarrassment. Hopefully nobody had noticed that she apparently touched herself. It was time to clean away any evidence of her intoxicated behavior.

She quickly sat down on the toilet seat and grabbed a small box from the side. The contents were what she expected, the private stash of tampons belonging to her boyfriend’s mother. Applicator included.

“Thank god!” An essential household item if she had ever seen one.

She retrieved one of them, parted her legs, and gingerly inserted it between her swollen pussy lips. Her pussy felt bruised and spongy, but she quickly blamed that as well on any kind of unacceptable dream she must’ve had.

She pushed that bad boy home before pressing down on the plunger and securing the tampon in place, somewhere in the back of her vagina where it would help to prevent any kind of awkward discharge. She could still feel some thick fluids sloshing around somewhere within her, thank god she no longer had to be afraid of it oozing down her legs.

“Nope, nope!” It was all icky and strange down there. The less she had to deal with her private parts, the better. She certainly had other things to worry about, she thought. So after using a ball of tissues to wipe the insides of her thighs clean, she returned to her boyfriend’s bedroom to find him soundly asleep. It gave her a good excuse to borrow some of his clothes — at which point she realized that she couldn’t remember taking off her own clothes upon entering the bathroom. She had no idea where those were.

Did she blank out about that, too?

No matter, she grabbed a fresh pair of boxer shorts from his wardrobe, some sweat pants and an oversized shirt before retreating underneath her boyfriend’s blanket. Perhaps now she might be able to claim the restful slumber she had been missing out on. Her soft, warm hands wrapped around his sleeping form as she cuddled up to him and closed her eyes…

Simultaneously in an adjacent room, a distinct noise appeared. An intrusive digital beep, it startled Hajoon and tore him from his dreams.

He had slept on the carpet, right next to his bed.

After the guys had entirely spent themselves, and probably ejaculated every single drop of semen they had to offer into Wonyoung’s receptive pussy, they carried her to the guest bedroom. Hajoon returned to hopelessly stare at the obscene puddle of cum right where she had spent most of her time. On his bed. Which he had no intention to lie in, not after he saw that disgusting mess.

So after using a whole bunch of towels to try and wipe away most of the excess, he stripped off the bed sheets and tossed them into the washing machine. All that spunk had soaked down to the mattress — he had no choice but to sleep on the carpet.

Needless to say he didn’t appreciate being woken up by some loud beeping device.

It did turn out to be a pleasant surprise, however. It was his camcorder’s signal and indicated the batteries were running low. He approached his camcorder — it was still on his desk, right where he had placed it after initially escorting Wonyoung to his room.

His expectations were even more blown out of proportion when he accessed the memory and watched the video file. It was all right there. The girls he recorded at the beginning of the party, the shaky movement when he went upstairs with Wonyoung, and the hours of sexual exploration they shared together. It was recorded at a perfect angle, showing everything. He fast-forwarded the clip, and then quickly ejected the tape to keep it inside one of the drawers of his nightstand.

That’s when he noticed that Wonyoung had forgotten her phone. Curiosity got the better of him, since it still seemed to be unlocked. He browsed right to the picture gallery where he found another little heap of treasures. A whole bunch of — arguably tasteful — nude pictures that she had sent to his older brother.

Hajoon sent a copy of every single one to himself. His little stash would keep him satisfied for months, possibly years to come. Hajoon couldn’t be happier.

But then Wonyoung phone released an urgent beep.

A little notification popped up. It was gibberish: “Purrchess plantB ASAA.”

He barely suppressed a laugh at the memory just how drunk she seemed to be at first, at least until she seemed to sober up temporarily. She must’ve typed that message by accident, he figured. It was just random letters and didn’t make any sense.

His fingertip danced across the digital screen as he swiped to the side and pushed that flashing button that confirmed his selection. Delete notification. After all, she didn’t need a reminder of how drunk she was.

For the following few weeks, none of them dared bringing up the topic of his birthday. They all assumed that Wonyoung simply didn’t want to talk about what happened, they had no idea that she truly didn’t know or remember. Hajoon was perfectly content with the way he got to lose his virginity, and his friends were more than happy with the outcome after they received a copy of the recording.

There were no consequences. Or so they thought.

It was months later, after another pleasant night in her boyfriend’s bed, when Wonyoung woke up to a sensation not much unlike being punched in the stomach. Her eyes flashed open, her hand shot up to cover her mouth, and she desperately stormed out of the room and to the bathroom. She woke up half the house with her sudden noise, and she barely managed to slam the door shut before dry-heaving and coughing into the toilet. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her long cascading hair hung down the sides of her face.

The muscles in her abdomen just kept tensing, and she couldn’t help but to feel utterly devastated and miserable. What was going on, what was happening to her? She was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t think. More than that, she felt terribly weak and ill.

Halfway through, Hyeon arrived as well and approached her on the cold bathroom tiles. He comforted her, hugged her, and reassured her while she bawled her eyes out. When she finally recovered enough to breathe normally again, his hand slid down to grasp the hem of her shirt. He suspected one possible cause for her sickness.

“Don’t,” she panicked and her hands moved on top of his.

“It’s okay.” Once more her boyfriend reassured her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and his hands began to lift her shirt more insistently. Right there, where she used to have a perfectly taut and flat belly, he caught a glimpse of a visible baby bump. It was the first time that he noticed it.

And he smiled back at her.

“Accidents happen.” He comforted her with a tight embrace while he spoke warmly into her ear. “Maybe one of the condoms broke, who knows. It doesn’t matter.”

“I want to keep it,” he added while his hand brushed over the bulge where she carried a baby. She was about to become a mother.

No — more accurately, she had become a mother as soon as one of those wiggly tadpoles had reached her womb, months’ ago at the party. Her fate had been sealed as soon as she had gotten drunk, naked, and ready to be taken entirely bareback.

It was Wonyoung who had to pay the price. Ever since that day, a new life had been growing inside of her.

She trembled and could barely even breathe, emotions were tearing her left and right and tugging at her heartstrings. It felt like a combination of anxiety and bliss. Naturally she believed that it was her boyfriend’s baby that was growing inside her.

She slowly accepted this turn of events. It was a reason to be happy! She felt that the start of something new was waiting just around the corner.

[d-z20]

Hers and Hers Alone

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: Agatha Harkness’s possessive nature burns brighter than ever when she claims you, not just with her words but with her magic. In the charged intimacy of her study, the line between dominance and devotion blurs, leaving no doubt that you belong entirely to her.

-OR-

She marks you with a magic tattoo cause you're oblivious to people flirting with you

Warnings: Possessive Agatha, reader is an idiot when it comes to flirting, magical marking, jealousy/obsession, claiming trope, slight angst, kind of dark romance is implied (at least their relationship is in my head), some dom/sub dynamics, reader gets called a good girl

Words: 1.9k

A/N: FuckMarvelEveryoneLives AU :P I errrr had carried this fic into the smut but then realised the request didn't ask for it so I guess what happened will just stay in my head :))

AO3 | Masterlist

Agatha Harkness always gets what she wants.

That’s the first thing you learnt when you fell into her orbit—her sharp eyes, her wicked smirk, the way her presence alone felt like it could strip you bare. It wasn’t just her power that made her dangerous; it was her confidence, the knowledge that she could claim you with nothing more than a look. And claim you, she did.

Tonight, that claim becomes permanent.

It starts earlier in the evening, though you’re far too oblivious to notice. Another witch—a newcomer to your coven—has been lingering a little too close, her compliments flowing like honey, her hand brushing yours just a bit too often. You think nothing of it, laughing at her jokes and responding with your usual warmth, but Agatha sees it all. She sits across the room, her wine glass in hand, her gaze locked on you with an intensity that sends lesser witches scattering. It’s subtle at first—the narrowing of her eyes, the slight tilt of her head—but as the other witch leans in and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, Agatha’s smile falters, replaced by something far sharper.

Jen sidles up beside her, an amused glint in her eye as she tracks Agatha’s gaze. “You’re going to set the room on fire if you keep glaring like that,” she says dryly.

“Perhaps,” Agatha mutters, her tone deceptively smooth. “But how could anyone blame me?" Her gaze flicks briefly to Jen before settling back on you.

Jen’s laughter is soft, a knowing sound that holds no pity. “She’s not doing anything. It’s you who sees it as a challenge.”

“A challenge easily won,” Agatha snaps, her irritation slipping through. Still, she doesn’t move. Not yet. She knows you too well to make a scene in public. No, this required precision.

—

The air buzzes with conversation, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that dance across the stone walls and when you finally turn toward her, your face brightens at the sight of her. You weave through everybody, the scent of burning herbs mingling with the faint tang of red wine, excusing yourself with a polite smile and a brief touch of hands that only fuel Agatha’s determination. By the time you reach her, she has composed herself into a picture of calm.

“You’re being antisocial again,” you tease lightly, tilting your head to study her. “Should I be worried?”

“Hardly,” she replies smoothly, though her voice dips into a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “Although perhaps you should.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Agatha steps closer, her fingers brushing your wrist lightly. The contact sparks against your skin, her magic coiling beneath the surface. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you feel the weight of her presence settle over you like a velvet cloak.

“You’ve been quite generous with your attention tonight,” she says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your heart skip. “Perhaps too generous.”

Your brows furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” She laughs low and dangerous. “No, darling. Jealousy is for those who doubt their place. I know exactly where I stand. Do you?”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, and then Agatha’s fingers trail up your arm, her touch deliberate and slow, leaving behind a faint, smouldering heat. The air between you thickens, charged with her magic and something even more primal. Her breath brushes your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t understand yet,” she whispers, her tone laced with a dark promise. “But you will.”

“Come with me,” she commands, making your pulse race.

Agatha doesn’t speak as she pulls you down the hallway, her grip firm but not painful, though there’s no mistaking the fire in her movements. You trail after her, a little breathless from trying to keep up, still half-confused about what’s gotten into her. It’s not until she shoves open the door to her study and drags you inside that she finally stops, turning to face you. The door clicks shut behind you with a wave of her hand, the air in the room thickening, charged with something electric and unrelenting.

“Agatha—” you start, but her sharp look cuts you off.

“Do you enjoy parading yourself like that?” she asks, her voice deceptively soft as she steps closer. “Letting them think they have the right to touch what’s mine?” The words cut like a knife, her tone equal parts petal and thorn, daring you to challenge her claim.

Her words sting, but there’s a flicker of defiance in your chest. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong, yet the weight of her gaze makes you second-guess yourself. “What? She was just being nice."

“Nice.” Agatha repeats, a dark chuckle escaping her lips as she closes the distance between you. “That wasn’t ‘nice,’ darling. She was flirting. And you…" Agatha pauses, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—not doubt, exactly, but something close. Vulnerability that is quickly buried under her usual sharpness. “You’re far too sweet to see it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die in your throat as her thumb brushes your bottom lip, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter. “You’re mine,” she says softly, almost like a warning, her eyes darkening as she leans in. “You can laugh and smile at the others all you want,” she continues, her voice like silk laced with steel. “But they’ll never know you the way I do. They’ll never touch you like this.”

Your breath hitches; your body already betraying you as heat pools in your stomach. Agatha’s hands move to your shoulders, steady and deliberate as she turns you around to face the desk. You feel the press of her body against your back, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in. “Don’t move,” she murmurs, the command dripping with authority.

You stand still, barely daring to breathe, though your mind races. The weight of her gaze, the heat of her power, wraps around you like an unrelenting grip. A thrill courses through your chest—half fear, half longing—as you realise what she’s about to do. This is more than a claim; it’s a declaration, a tether, and deep down, you’re not sure if you’d ever want to break free.

 Agatha brushes her fingers down the column of your throat and across your collarbone before stopping over your chest. Her touch is gentle, but the power swirling from her is anything but. 

“Right here,” she murmurs, her voice a dark velvet caress. Her fingers brush over your chest, leaving a tingling trail of magic in their wake. “This is where my claim belongs—above your heart, so no one ever forgets who it beats for.”

A surge of violet magic blooms from her palm, tendrils of shimmering light twisting and curling as they seep into your skin. It’s not just energy—it’s alive, sparking and crackling like a storm contained within your chest. Heat rushes through you, both foreign and familiar, as if her power is carving itself into your very being.

You gasp, your body arching instinctively as Agatha mumbles soft incantations under her breath. When she pulls her hand away, your heart is racing, and you feel it—a faint, lingering hum where her magic settled.

“Look,” she instructs, her voice soft yet commanding. 

There, etched into your skin in delicate, curling lines of violet, are Agatha’s initials. It’s an ancient and commanding mark, pulsing faintly with magic. You feel it thrum in time with your heartbeat, as though Agatha herself has left a piece of her soul imprinted onto you. 

You blink, lips parted in surprise, but before you can speak, Agatha’s fingers ghost over the mark. The second she touches it, a wave of pleasure rushes through you, leaving you trembling as a choked gasp escapes your throat.

“Sensitive, isn’t it?” She murmurs, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe now you’ll remember who owns you.”

You shiver under her touch, the magic from the mark sparking with every deliberate brush of her fingers. She leans in close, her voice a low purr against your ear. “And if you ever let anyone get that close again, I’ll make sure you cannot walk for days, darling. Do you understand?”

You swallow hard, nodding wordlessly, and Agatha hums approvingly. “Good girl.”

Agatha’s approval drips like honey into your veins, the warmth of her magic lingering just beneath your skin. Your body betrays you completely—breath shaky, pulse fluttering, and heat pooling low in your stomach. Every brush of her fingers near the freshly marked skin pulls a soft gasp from your lips, and you can feel her smile against your ear.

“Sensitive already,” she husks with dark amusement, the words sending a fresh shiver down your spine. Her fingertips ghost over the mark again, just enough to make your knees buckle, and you clutch at the edge of the desk for support. “Such a pretty reaction. I could play with you like this for hours, you know. Watch you squirm. Hear you beg.”

"Agatha,” you breathe, her name tumbling from your lips in a desperate mix of frustration and longing.

She tsks softly, her free hand trailing down your side, gripping your hip firmly enough to hold you in place. “Do you feel it yet?” she asks softly, tilting your chin up to force your gaze on her. “The way you need me now?” Her voice drops lower, the teasing edge softening into something deeper, more possessive. “That mark isn’t just to ward off wandering hands, love. It’s a tether. A reminder of exactly who you belong to.”

You can only nod, unable to find your voice as the thrum of magic beneath your skin grows more insistent. The mark feels alive—Agatha’s initials pulsing faintly, like they’re echoing your own heartbeat. The sensation deepens when she leans closer, her lips just grazing the sensitive skin below your jaw, and you let out a shaky whimper before you can stop yourself.

“That’s it,” Agatha whispers against your neck, her breath sending another ripple of arousal through you. Her lips curl into a smirk as she presses a kiss there, followed by a deliberate flick of her tongue. “You’re already so desperate. My mark is working beautifully.”

Her hand trails down the front of your body, teasing but never quite satisfying the ache that’s grown unbearable. “I could make you cum just by touching it,” she continues, her voice like velvet as she strokes a single finger lightly over the mark once more. The pleasure spikes instantly—so sharp and overwhelming that your head falls back with a gasp, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt for relief.

Agatha pulls back just enough to watch the way you tremble, utterly at her mercy. “Tell me, darling. Do you understand now? Do you know who you belong to?”

“Yes,” you manage, the word escaping in a breathless, desperate whisper.

Her smirk widens. “Say it.”

“You, Agatha,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “I belong to you.”

“Good girl,” she hums, her voice softer now, almost tender. Her fingers trace the edge of the mark, drawing a shuddering breath from your lips. “You wear it beautifully,” she murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss just above the sigil. Her magic lingers there, warm and possessive, as she cups your cheek with a rare gentleness. “Mine,” she whispers again, more for herself than you.

-----

I just need to take a moment to appreciate the way Kathryn looks at the camera in the gif used at the start... the woman is staring into my soul and ughhhh the piercingssssss 😩😩😩

-----

Taglist: @danveration @aceday @alwaysharmony

[shellxrls]

rafe cameron x fem!reader x sarah cameron…

warnings: oral (male receiving) / stepcest (reader is sarah & rafe’s stepsister) / filming / not technically incest (sarah doesn't touch rafe) but still valid as a warning

“sare get your camera out,” the first time you hear the nickname fall out of rafe’s mouth, its casual, almost endearing and it makes your stomach turn; your knees aching on the floor, taking up space beneath rafe as you lap at his swollen dick, conflicted between meeting sarah or rafe’s eye — both staring you down intently.

“want her to have a little reminder of what it means to be—to be cameron property,” he chuckles, patting your head further down onto him when you flash a look of distress upwards, pawing at his thighs to be let up.

not before you see a flash going off in your peripheral though, your face surely flushed and tear-stricken by the time rafe finally lets you off, and you take a deep inhale and make a point to distance yourself from him.

“c’monnn, don’t— don’t be like that. y’know what sarah’s like, she’d rather.. rather die than let a video of her precious girlfriend sucking her brother off get leaked.” rafe ends the sentence with a sort of finality that has you crawling back into him, reaching again for a mouthful of dick.

you can see sarah approaching from the side, kneeling beside you to lift your hair up while you stroke a stray vein on rafe with your tongue, her hands warm and placating.

“and you’re doing so good baby, who wouldn’t want a reminder,” she whispers, kissing at your neck and triggering a whimper out of you, the action constricting your throat around rafe and causing him to groan in subsequence.

“fuck, yeah keep talking to her like that sare,” rafe grunts, that nickname again, unfamiliar yet seemingly so comfortable for him to contort his lips into.

she only hums in response, straying one hand to grope at your chest, massaging the soft skin while her other hand gently guides your mouth down further; your fingers going to cup rafe’s balls instead, until his neck was flushed and his torso sweaty.

rafe moans, “fuck sare,” when he cums, digits coming to intertwine with sarah’s in your hair, only pushing you down further to swallow.

the force leaves you breathless, choking and struggling without let up, you felt like you were going blue in the face: throat closing up, lips numb, heart racing.

and then you wake up, stranded alone in sweaty sheets, stomach pulsing with aftershocks and mind full of dread for whatever interactions you would have to endure with your stepsiblings today— mind still foggy with a combination of murky remorse and searing desire.

[sunvmars]

only you || s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x reader (brief platonic!nat, sam, and bucky.)

*navigation/directory | request box | taglist | masterlist

word count: 7.1k summary: only a few weeks after a breakup, you go out for the night with the team. steve doesn’t show up, and he’s been purposefully not showing up to anything non-work related after the breakup. however, tonight you drink a little too much, and insist that steve pick you up. warnings: angst (breakup, talk of bullying, body image issues), swearing, drinking, *smutty implications.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't know who else to call," Sam explains, his voice raised to speak louder than the blaring music.

"She keeps asking for you, and she won't go with anyone but you," Bucky adds as he and Sam lead Steve through the crowded dancefloor.

The blond sighs and shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. "It's alright, really, but just how drunk is she, exactly?"

Before Sam can respond, they come to a stop right in front of the team's reserved booth. Bruce had only come for all of an hour of the night, but Clint and Tony had left about thirty minutes prior to Steve's arrival, leaving your well-being in Natasha, Bucky, and Sam's hands.

Steve looks over you and Nat; you're laid down on the long, cushioned seat with your head resting on her lap. Her jacket is slung over your lower half to cover your exposed legs from your dress rising up on your thighs. You're looking up at her adoringly, reaching up to twirl strands of her hair between your fingers as you mumble about how pretty her hair is.

"That answer your question?" Sam whispers, chuckling slightly.

Another sigh falls from Steve's lips, and although his heart aches, he has to stop himself from cracking a smile. "That it does."

He steps closer to the booth, taking in the sight of you with softened eyes. Typically, you never let yourself get this drunk, not in the public eye at least. Even though it's clear you've had more than a bit too much to drink, the sight is endearing.

Nat directs her attention from you and up at the three men approaching the table instead. Her expression is one of amusement with a slight hint of relief as she looks down at you again. "Hey, look who's here, honey," she says softly to you.

You turn your head in her lap and let your hands fall back down, finally releasing her hair from your gentle grip. Your eyes land on Steve and you blink up at him before a wide, drunken smile spreads on your face.

"Steeeeve!" you exclaim in a slur, reaching your hand out for him. "You came!"

He crouches down next to the booth, hesitantly taking your hand into his. "Hey, doll. 'Course I came, I always will. Looks like you've had fun tonight, huh?"

You nod excitedly and your smile spreads into a grin. "Nat's hair is sooo pretty, did ya know that? 'S soft too, like a pillow," you ramble, your words somehow not coming out scrambled.

"I bet," Steve says, watching Nat brush your hair out of your face. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

"Your home?" you ask in a softer voice.

Right. His home.

"I don't..." Steve starts before falling into silent contemplation.

He looks up at Nat who's already looking back at him, her expression apologetic and soft. Then his eyes shift back down to you, and his heart clenches in his chest. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink at him, your eyes light up and twinkle in a way that they only do for him, and your lips part a little as you take slower breaths.

How could he say no to that?

"Sure, yeah, we'll go back to mine," he concedes gently, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

You smile again and scramble to sit upright. Nat lays a hand on your back to help keep you balanced, Steve taking your other hand in his free one to pull you up gently. When you're sat up straight, he takes Nat's jacket off your legs and helps you tug your dress back down.

He slides your phone off the table and into his pocket before throwing your arms around his neck. You take the hint to hold on as he slides one of his arms under your legs and the other behind your back.

Effortlessly, he lifts you into his arms. You clasp your hands together behind his neck and a giggle slips out of your lips- a sound that was once music to his ears which had now become one he longed to hear again.

"G'night, Nat," you say sweetly, turning your head to look at her.

Steve's body follows the direction of your head, turning towards the table so you don't strain your neck. Her eyes meet yours and she smiles at you once more.

"Goodnight, babe. Text me tomorrow, alright?" she requests before looking up at Steve and saying, "Make sure to get some water in her, we had to trick her into drinking some by watering down her tequila."

"Will do-"

Your gasp cuts Steve off effectively, her words only just now sinking in. "That wasn't tequila?!" you exclaim, your voice coming out quieter than you realize.

The three at the table laugh a little- even Steve lets out a low chuckle of his own.

"I'll let you in on a secret," Nat starts, her voice dropping to a whisper before continuing, "It was definitely tequila, but you know these guys are no fun, so we can't tell them that."

"Ohhh, right, right. I can keep a secret- you're the world's bestest adult sitter," you reply softly.

"The best, huh?" she questions with a half smirk.

When you nod, she takes a sip of her drink, placing the glass down before saying, "I'll be expecting my plaque soon then."

"You wanna say bye to Sam and Bucky?" he asks, looking over slightly to meet your eyes.

You hum in response and he walks you over a few steps to Bucky and Sam who are sitting at the other end of the table. The pair smile at you, though it's more of an amused grin on Bucky's end, and you return the gesture.

"Bye, Bucky," you say, sleep and intoxication ridden in your voice.

Bucky chuckles and rises to his feet to ruffle your hair playfully. "Bye, doll. You get some good sleep, alright?"

Your nose scrunches at the feeling of his hand in your hair. "Always good sleep when with Stevie."

Bucky sits back down, and Sam starts to speak, "Punch it in," he instructs, raising his fist up to your level.

You oblige happily, curling your hand into a fist to the best of your ability and bumping it against his. "G'bye," you slur, nuzzling your face into the crook of Steve's neck.

"Call us if you need us," Bucky says to Steve.

"Yeah, thank you for watching over her," Steve responds appreciatively, "Goodnight, be safe getting home."

"'Night," the three say collectively, smiling at him in a way that's bordering apologetic.

Steve forces a smile before turning to walk away. He makes his way through the crowd, holding you tight and protectively against his chest.

"You can go to sleep if you want, I can tell you're sleepy," he murmurs low enough for just you to hear him.

A small whimper emits from you, making a warmth spread through his body. He looks down at you adoringly before looking back up, shifting his focus back to the rather slow journey to the exit. Although some people part to make way for who they know to be Captain America himself, most of them are too drunk to care. So, Steve focuses heavily on navigating through the maze of bodies.

When he steals a glance down at you again, you're sleeping peacefully and your head has fallen back away from his neck. You must've felt him move though, because you immediately nestle your face back into his neck, and the warmth of your breath against his skin makes him shiver. The scent of the alcohol you'd been drinking lingers, but it's mixed with the familiar fragrance of your vanilla perfume, and it creates a blend that only you could pull off.

When you reach the exit, the cold, autumn night air hits both of your faces. Steve adjusts his grip on you to make sure you're comfortable and then walks to the car he ordered that dropped him off. The driver steps out, and opens the passenger side door for the two of you, allowing Steve to slide you comfortably onto the seat.

He thanks the driver as you whine at the loss of contact. You melt sleepily into his touch when he reaches in to brush your hair behind your ear to let you know he's not leaving. The bright city lights reflect in his blue eyes, and a soft, but achy, smile plays on his lips at the sight of you. Careful not to wake you or pinch your fingers, he fastens your seatbelt, making sure you're secure before closing the car door.

He walks to the other side of the car and gets in, choosing to sit by the window instead of next to you in the middle seat. As the car starts up, he can't help but look at you and admire you. The admiration quickly turns into longing, though. He takes in every part of your face, his mind plaguing itself with the memory of just over two months ago.

"I don't think I'm right for you."

The words flow easily from your mouth like water between open fingers. Steve looks at you, utterly confused and hurt. His jaw tightens, his eyebrows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again when he can't find the words.

He gets off the couch, rising to his feet and looking at you from across the room. "You want to leave, to forget everything from the last year and a half, just because you don't think you're right for me?"

The weight of your decision and his words sit heavily on your shoulders as you slouch over, putting your face in your hands for a moment. "I... I'm no good for you, Steve, and you deserve better than me... I can't be what, or who, you need."

"What are you talking about, y/n? You're perfect to me, I wouldn't trade you for anything," he explains, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring despite the fear and irritation building up in him. "Please, tell me what I can do to make you feel better and I'll do it, I'll do anything-"

"You can't do anything!" you finally snap, your emotions being misdirected towards him. You let the warm tears that were welling up fall freely from your eyes as you continue, "There's nothing you can do, Steven, I'm not the person you need, and I never will be. Drop it, just leave it at that, and move on."

"'Leave it at that?'" Steve repeats back in bewilderment. "We have been together for almost two years and you expect me to drop all of it just like that?"

All you can muster up in response is a quiet, "I'm sorry."

He watches you stand up and sling your purse over your shoulder. Desperately, he scrambles for the right words to say to make you stay. "Baby, please, tell me what's really going on here- this cannot be it for us, I won't let it be."

Steve takes long strides towards you only for you to back away from him. For some strange reason, that small action hurt worse than any of the words that came, or could possibly come, out of your mouth. He stops dead in his tracks, trying to search your face for any sign of changing your mind. When he doesn't find it, he bites down on his tongue to save himself more heartache from the useless begging he wants to let out.

"I'm sorry, Steve. You deserve better, and you always have," you mumble, wiping the tears off your cheeks and walking quickly to the front door.

"I love you," he says, only to receive no response other than the front door slamming shut as you walk out of it.

“You alright back there?” the driver’s voice snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “You need heat or air? Seat warmers? Anything?”

Steve shakes his head slightly, snapping himself out of it. His hand reaches over to you, and he rests the back of his hand on your forehead. “A little heat, thanks,” he says with a smile after nothing the tinge of cold your skin has.

“Of course,” the driver says with a returned smile as he turns the heat on.

As he avigates the familiar route to Steve’s apartment, with the sleepiness Steve feels, he's thankful for the fact that there's only a minute or two remaining of the drive. And on the other hand, he’s sulking about the short time left because that’s two minutes closer to you being gone by the time he wakes up.

He turns his gaze back to you, still peacefully asleep with your head resting against the window. The soft hum of the engine provides an almost calming backdrop that yet does nothing to soothe the ache that persists. Focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest always seems to soothe him though, and it still does so now.

The car comes to a stop in front of the apartment, and Steve reaches into his wallet to pull out some cash. He pulls out his keys too, to make it easier when he gets to the door. Then he hands the cash to the driver with a grateful nod before getting out of the car and making his way to your side. Gently, he opens the door, reaching up quickly to lean your head back on the headrest.

You grumble a little, and he's quick to ease you as he unbuckles your seatbelt. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we're home now."

"Home?" you murmur, still half asleep.

He carefully lifts you into his arms once more, and you instantly cling to his jacket. "Yeah... home."

The building's lobby is quiet as he enters through the automatic doors, the night shift doorman giving him a knowing smile. Steve offers nothing but a small and short nod in return, his focus solely on your drunken state. Luckily the elevator ride is short, but every second feels like an eternity to him.

The weight of your body curled up in his arms provides a comforting familiarity. It's a familiarity he soaks up though, having not seen you outside of work during the few missions you had together. In fact, you hadn't spoken to him outside of work since you left either.

Even during missions, you were short with your comments. And when you picked up your things from his apartment, of which you were actively moving into, you did it on a day when he was gone. You'd left your key under the mat and shot him a brief text letting him know. He replied, only asking how you were doing, but he got no response back.

The elevator dings, snapping him out of his thoughts again as he steps out, taking long strides until he reaches his door. He turns to the side, bending down ever so slightly to unlock the door with his keys in the hand hooked under your legs. He twists the doorknob and pushes the door open, carrying you inside with practiced ease.

The soft glow of outside city lights filters through the open windows. Paired with the dim tv, the lights cast a cool ambiance over the living room. With a deep breath, he heads straight to his room and slowly lays you down on the bed.

The bedroom is dark except for the blue and green aurora projected on the ceiling from the starlight projector you insisted he get since his room was too 'plain.' At first, the light kept him up at night because he found it too distracting, but since you'd left, he couldn't sleep without it on. After all, it was the only piece of you that you left with him other than the few shirts and undergarments.

Steve sighs deeply, taking your heels off your feet and placing them next to the bed. He covers you with your favorite blanket from the foot of his bed, and with a heart heavier than typical, he makes his way to the kitchen to fill up a cup with water. He then carries the glass back to the bedroom and sits it on the bedside table.

He takes a moment to simply watch you as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. The soft features of your face relaxed in sleep makes him contemplate waking you up- you were always a peaceful sleeper, and he hated disturbing those few moments of peace.

Before he can attempt to wake you, you begin to stir, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes slowly open. You blink slowly a few times, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and then a sleepy smile forms on your face when you see Steve.

"Hey," he greets you softly, reaching over to offer you the glass of water from the nightstand.

"Thank you," you say.

It's obvious that you're still not sober as you take the glass and sit up too quickly, the sudden movement resulting in your head throbbing as you groan. "Ouch," you mumble, pressing the palm of your free hand against your forehead.

"You okay?"

"Think so," you reply, sitting up much slower than before.

The cool water soothes you a little as you take small sips of it. A contented sigh falls from your lips, your body appreciating the non-alcoholic beverage. You place the glass back onto its spot on the nightstand and then focus your attention back on Steve.

Your eyes reflect the projector's lights as your eyes rake over him for a few seconds. Slower than you realize, you raise your hand and brush it gently over his cheek in admiration. "You're like... like an angel, but a reaaally handsome one," you croon.

Steve chuckles, a mixture of amusement and genuine joy spreading across his features. "I'm flattered, but you're the angel here, honey," he says with a smile.

He captures your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. You giggle in response, the alcohol still evident in your system, and then your happy expression fades away. You look down, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

"I'm sorry for, uhm, causing a fuss t'night. I never meant to ruin your night..."

The look on his face becomes one closer to sympathetic as he drops your hand, now reaching over to cup your cheek. Carefully, he forces you to look at him as he speaks. "Hey, you didn't ruin anything, alright? I'll always come when you need me, and I'm just glad you're okay."

Missing the feeling of his skin on yours all too much, you lean into his touch, letting his warmth soothe you. "Thanks for...everything."

"Anytime, truly," he replies.

There's a comfortable silence that falls between you, the weight of the obvious unspoken words lingering in the air. You look up at him, trying to keep yourself awake. Steve drops his hand and tries to memorize every detail of your face. He knows that tomorrow things will go back to how they were, and he's not sure he can stomach that.

It only takes a few more beats of silence before he breaks the said silence, his voice low and gentle. "Can we talk?" he asks, his blue eyes searching yours.

You hum for a moment, taking a slow breath before saying, "Jus' for a minute, very sleepy."

"I just... I have one question, that okay?"

"Hm?"

Steve musters up the courage to speak, only breaking apart from your gaze for a second. "Could you maybe tell me why you left? Like why you really left?"

When your eyes flicker with hesitation and sadness, he starts to regret asking. The air feels heavier than it ever has, holding the weight of everything spoken and not yet said, but he breathes it all in. Right as he's about to tell you to not worry about it, you take a deep breath and smother your vulnerability with the knowledge that he deserves the truth. Slowly as to not give yourself another headache, you nod.

"S'like I told you, that was the truth, 'm not good enough. You look at me with so much love and admiration, and I know...I know I could never live up to what you think of me," you explain, drawing out each word a little more than you would if you were sober. "'M holding you back, always have been, and you deserve better."

His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your words, his gaze intense and sharp. "I look at you like that because of who you are, not because of who I think you should be," he says in an attempt to reassure you. He reaches out to take your hand in his as he continues, "You're always been more than enough, honey. I mean, hell, you're more than I deserve, and-"

"No, no, you don't get it!" you exclaim lowly, cutting him off and taking your hand out of his grip. "Y-you're perfect, you're America's golden boy, and 'm jus' me. I hate my body, my mind, an-and everything about me. Could never be good enough for you, Steve. As if I don't already hate myself enough, everyone says and sees how much more you deserve, except for you."

Steve's mind races and his heart tightens as he takes in your words. The obvious pain in your voice cuts through him like a scalding knife, the tears welling up in your eyes cutting him even deeper. He's now sure that nothing could measure up to the pain of hearing you talk about yourself in the complete opposite way of how he thinks of you.

Silence passes as he dwells on your words. Then it clicks.

"Who's been saying that?" he questions sternly.

You avoid his gaze like the plague, immediately breaking the eye contact you were holding. Physically, you can feel yourself shrink. Whether it's the guilt from your outburst, the shame from everything you've heard and thought about yourself, or the intensity of his gaze- you're not sure.

His jaw tightens in anger, but not directed at you. "Who, y/n?"

A deep and heavy sigh falls from your lips as your eyes dart around the room. "Phone," you say quietly, holding out your hand to him.

Steve looks at your outstretched hand, confusion covering the concern etched on his face briefly. He pauses for a moment before reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out your phone. Placing it in your hand, he watches closely as you unlock it with shaky fingers. Your eyes scan over the screen, but it doesn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, and your expression tells it all.

You hesitate to hand the phone to him, but you do so anyway, lying down on the bed and curling up into yourself as soon as the phone touches his hands. And, not that you see it, but his eyes narrow as he reads over everything rapidly. You'd had it all saved in a little folder; every message, every media report, every post made about you.

He's not sure what's worse of the situation, to be honest. To know that you'd felt this way about yourself for God knows how long and not have said anything about it was painful, sure. However, the words written about you were downright cruel, analytical, and simply not true at all.

But the amount of things that were written and you had saved for you to read at your whim, only reaffirming whatever untrue things you thought about yourself? That was a different level of hurt that he could imagine hurt you hundreds of times worse than it does him.

Unable to stomach anymore, he places your phone face down on the nightstand. Silently, he scoots up on the bed to be closer, reaching out to place his hand on your cheek. You flinch at the contact at first, but his touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the words you've been subjected to.

"I'm so, so sorry, my sweet girl," he says softly, trying to force down tears of his own.

You take a shaky breath in and out, your voice barely above a low murmur. "Didn't want you to leave me, so I left first."

Steve's heart sinks at your admission, his thumb gently stroking your cheek to wipe away the stray tear that escaped your eye. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that's meant to offer some kind of comfort and reassurance.

"I would've never left you, and I still won't, okay? I know you care about what they say, but I don't. Nothing could ever skew my image of you, angel, you're my definition of perfect- you don't have any image to live up to in my mind," he promises with a soft-spoken tone.

You can't find it in you to respond even though you want to, all too scared of your voice failing you. Sheer pain radiates from you to the point where it's almost suffocating. While he's more than aware that no words can take back anything you've read or heard, the simple fact that he can't undo what has already been done riddles him with guilt still.

If he could, he would take all of that ache and bear it all for you.

"When did all this start?" he inquires, waiting patiently for your answer.

"I don't know..."

"I know you do, honey, you can tell me."

"Only... Only a week after we got together, got worse after I started moving in here."

"Scoot," he instructs gently, careful to control his tone with you although he feels a deep rage.

You oblige and scoot over slowly. Almost instantly, he lays down behind you, curling up so that his body molds with yours. He brushes a few pieces of your hair back before wrapping his arm around your midsection to hold you protectively against him.

"Can I ask you one more thing?" he asks, adding on, "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

After thinking about it for a second, you nod. He tries to find the best way to ask what he wants to ask. Deep down he wants, but somehow already knows, the answer, yet he doesn't want to make things worse. Nor does he want it to seem like the subject is the only thing he was thinking about.

"Is…is all of this, meaning what people have said and what you think about yourself- is this why we've never, you know, done anything together?" he inquires with furrowed brows from the overwhelming amount of emotions. "I'm just asking because I never thought this would be why, I thought I was doing something wrong or you just weren't ready."

Your body tenses at his question, and you have to steady your voice before answering, "Part of it. Never felt good enough, and I didn't want you to see me like that and be disappointed."

Steve frowns, sighing lowly as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. The gesture is simple, but it effectively conveys the depth of what he feels.

"I don't care how long it takes me to convince you, but I'll spend forever trying to get you to see yourself even a fraction of the way I do if I have to," he says as his thumb traces circles on your side. "You're absolutely breathtaking, angel. Fuck anyone who says you're anything other than beautiful."

A quiet giggle slips from between your lips, unable to hold contain your momentary amusement. For the first time in a while, he smiles a real, genuine smile. "You don't know how long I've missed the sound of that pretty laugh."

"You said 'fuck,'" you tease, trying to soak in the temporary joy.

He chuckles and the sounds rumbles through his chest. "Sometimes I can be a little hypocritical, especially when it comes to protecting you."

The smile you hold fades again, and you're left with nothing but the sadness and warmth of Steve's body behind yours. "Thank you," you whisper.

Steve tightens his hold around you and presses another gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. "You don't need to thank me for telling you the truth, it's what I'm here for, and I meant every word."

The two of you lay there in silence for a while. The room stays filled only with the sounds of your delicate breathing and the occasional passing of a distant car. This time, the silence isn't agonizing though. Steve's presence makes it feel comforting, and his words make your brain go mute even if just for tonight, making the weight of the world lift just a little.

"Stevie?" you murmur, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" he responds.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist. "Don't wanna be alone t'night," you admit.

"Then you won't be," he promises softly. "Do you want me to help you out of that dress? No pressure, of course, I was just thinking it might be more comfortable for you to sleep if you changed. I think you've still got a shirt here or you could wear one of mine, and like I said I could leave if-"

"Steve?"

"...Yes?"

"Don't think I could get out of this dress by myself right now if I wanted to, and I'd love one of your shirts."

Steve smiles at your response, relief washing over him at your comfort with him. He unwraps his arm from around you, sitting up slowly before helping you sit up. When he slides off the bed, walking over to his dresser to find a shirt, you scoot yourself slowly to the edge of the bed. Your legs dangle off the edge and your shoulders slouch as you try to keep yourself awake.

With a worn-out gray t-shirt in his hand, he walks back over to you. "Alright, sweetheart. Let me take care of you," he says.

He places the shirt on the bed and reaches behind you to unzip your dress. You allow your head to fall against his chest, trying to soak in his warmth. His movements are slow and delicate, precise too, ensuring that he doesn't cause you any discomfort.

Once the zipper is down, he leaves his hands resting on your back to help you slide off the bed. Then he slips the thin straps down your arms, allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.

Crystalline, icy blue eyes rake over your body for a moment as he bends down to pick up the discarded fabric. It's not a sexual ogling, and you know that; he's simply admiring you the way he has always wanted to.

Suddenly feeling bashful, you avoid his gaze. You look at anything but him or your body, opting to focus on the street lights outside the big window. He catches your slight shyness immediately and quickly tries to soothe you.

"Hey," he coos with concern written on his face, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek, "You're perfect, angel. Are you feeling uncomfortable, do I need to step out for a minute?"

"N-no," you answer promptly and force yourself to meet his eyes. "'M jus' not used to being looked at like this."

Steve's gaze softens, clearly showing he understands the vulnerability you feel. He leans in to press a lingering kiss on your forehead. "If you let me, I'll help you get used to it- and I'll make sure you never feel unsafe or uncomfortable with me. How's that sound?"

The corners of your lips manage to quirk up into an appreciative smile. "Sounds nice, Stevie," you reply, your voice low but still audible.

Returning the same appreciative look, he picks up the t-shirt and says, "Thank you for letting me see you, and touch you, but let's get into something more comfortable for right now. You need some sleep."

You nod and raise your arms up in the air so he can slide the t-shirt onto you. It's then that you notice he'd given you the same shirt you wore the first night you ever spent the night at his place, and almost every time since then, threatening to make you cry.

The fabric is as soft against your skin as it always has been, and the scent of Steve's cologne envelops you, providing a sense of security. A warm feeling spreads through your chest at how he cares for you.

Steve takes a small step back to admire you in the shirt, and just to get another look at you. A fond smile plays on his lips as he looks you over once more. "Always has looked better on you than it does on me. Good to know it still does," he says, honesty obvious in his voice.

Again, your eyes lock with his. You search him for any sign of anything negative, coming up with nothing almost instantly. He searches you for any look or hint of discomfort, but he finds nothing other than sleepiness and adoration in your gaze.

Silence passes over the two of you like it had just mere minutes ago. The quiet environment feels even more natural and comforting than it did before, though.

He clears his throat, trying to prevent the eye contact from becoming awkward for you. "Uhm, let's get you into bed, alright?"

You step to the side so he can pull the comforter back, your hands playing with the bottom hem of the shirt. He turns to face you, and you take a wobbly step towards him, balancing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. His hand flies to your lower back to offer you more support, and you look up at him through the eyelashes of your sleepy eyes.

Slowly, tracing your way up and down his chest once, your eyes stare into him with something he'd never seen in you before. In fact, the look is so intense that it could make any man weak, he's sure of it. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly at your sudden touchiness.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks, somehow oblivious to exactly what look it is that you're giving him.

"Mhmm," you hum, drawing out the 'hm,' with a voice laced with a soft and sleepy seduction from still being tipsy. "Y'know, 'm not thaaat tired."

"Oh? The way that you're hardly able to hold yourself up says otherwise, angel. We have all of tomorrow to talk, let me just help take care of you tonight."

A giggle slips from between your parted lips in response to his cluelessness. "S'cute when you're so sweet," you croon.

"Do you, uhm, do you need something before bed? Like an Advil maybe?"

Instead of a verbal response, you grab onto his jacket and give it a slight tug. You take a step forward, pushing him back gently to force him to sit on the bed. He looks up at you in confusion, but you don't let go of him as you slowly straddle him. With your weight being supported by your knees on the bed and his legs under you, you lean in, nuzzling your face into his neck.

"Angel, what're you-"

Your lips brush lightly under his jawline, leaving a trail of tender kisses as you gradually make your way down to under his chin.

Steve's breath hitches, and his free hand comes to rest on your waist with a delicate, but firm, grip. "O-oh," he murmurs in a sigh.

You nibble gently on his jaw. "Jus' need you," you mumble before pressing your lips to his.

He lets you kiss him, unable to resist the feeling because, well fuck, how could he?

The taste of your lips is all too familiar, and as his lips work against yours, his hands find your hips. His hold on you is secure, and it does nothing to ease the arousal building up in your stomach. You whine from the contact, and he tugs you closer, still careful to keep you steady on his lap.

His resolve weakens, and he becomes hyperaware of your vulnerable state again. So, he breaks the kiss, looking down and into your eyes.

"Y/n, I'm not sure if-" he starts, only to be interrupted by you dipping down to bite on his neck. You suck harshly on his neck as you reach down and palm him through his jeans.

A low groan emits from his chest, his voice husky when he speaks. "God, baby.”

Thoroughly enjoying the reaction he gives, you whimper against his neck. He can feel the corners of your lips turn up into a slight smile. His other hand is on the other side of your waist, gripping it firmly, as soon as you start grinding down onto his thigh. He loses himself in the moment for just a second before reminding himself of your inebriated state.

“F-Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Wait, wait- stop.”

You bite down once more, whining slightly before pulling away. The sensitive spot on his neck pulses, rushing with blood from the sucking and vibration. He tenses up with a mixture of both surprise and arousal at your forwardness. Then he lets both of his hands find your hips and settle on them, his hold tightening on you.

"D-did I do somethin' wrong? Did that not feel good?" you ask with a deep frown.

"No, no. That's not it, I promise; everything you've done feels amazing," Steve reassures you, quickly shutting down your negative thoughts.

Once again, he clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. "Angel, you're just… not in the best state right now. I won't take advantage of you, and I don't want you doing anything you might regret," he explains as he looks down to meet your gaze.

You're staring up at him with those big puppy dog eyes that you always use as an effective method to sway him. Tonight, though, is vastly different.

"C'mon, doll. Don't look at me like that. If you still want me in a few hours, when you're sober, that is, then I am all yours," he promises, trying to bargain with you.

You stick your lower lip out a little unintentionally, giving him the cutest pout he's ever seen. "Sober..." you repeat, looking away almost in shame as you add, "Promise you'll still want me then?"

Steve tilts your chin up with his finger and forces you to lock eyes with him. "I can promise you. I've never wanted anything more in my life than I want you. And that's never going to change."

Tantalizingly, he runs his thumb across your lower lip, a small smile playing on his lips. "But, I need you to be sure that this is what you want. I want you to remember every moment, not just bits and pieces of it, and know that everything we do is your choice," he says softly.

After taking a moment to process his words, you nod in understanding- noting the sincerity in his eyes. The room fills itself with an assortment of emotions, ranging everywhere from desire, uncertainty, and just a touch of venerable fragility.

Steve brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his expression one of soft neutrality. "Alright. Let's get you tucked in," he whispers, his voice a low murmur.

You let go of his jacket after he scoots back on the bed, bringing your knee from the other side of his leg and lying down. You curl yourself into a ball, and Steve's eyes never leave you as you do so. He takes a moment to appreciate the mere sight of you back in his bed, and a wave of warmth rushes through his chest. His earlier desires are still very much present, but so is the respect for the boundaries he set for your well-being.

He gets up briefly to pull the blankets over you before sitting down in the comfy chair in the corner of the room to take his shoes off. The chair you'd begged him to get as well to fill up the empty space in the room.

After sliding the boots under the chair, he makes his way to the dresser to change into some loose-fitting sweatpants. When he's about to put a shirt on, you grumble a 'no,' that catches his attention and makes him turn to face you.

"No?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow up questioningly.

"Nuh-uh," you respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles lightly. "Why not?"

"Warmer without it, not a bad sight either," you say softly, following it up with a yawn.

Steve smirks in appreciation of your usual playfulness. "If you insist," he concedes, deciding to forgo the shirt. He slips the shirt back into the drawer and walks back over to the bed.

He settles himself in beside you and lifts his arm up, allowing you to scoot into his side and rest your head on his chest. Happily, you hum, soaking up his warmth and focusing on his steady heartbeat. He then reaches down with his free hand to pull the blanket over himself.

"Uncomfortable?" you murmur, sleep laced in your voice.

"No, I'll be alright as long as you're comfortable."

A second passes by before you speak again. "Thank you."

"For what, angel?"

"For being so...you."

You feel Steve's chest rise and fall with a deep, contented sigh. His fingers trace slow circles on your back through your shirt. "Always," he whispers, his soft voice lulling you even closer to sleep.

The room stays wrapped in a soothing silence, the only sounds heard being the quiet breaths from both of you. As you lay there trying to sleep, you can't help but marvel at the man beside you. Everything about him is truly perfect, from his basic concern for your well-being to the way he has always taken care of you.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy, slowly shutting fully as you find yourself on the brink of slumber. Just before you succumb to sleep, you muster up the energy to mumble, "Steve?"

"Hmm?" he responds, his chest rumbling under your cheek.

"'M glad it's you."

"Wouldn't trade you for anything, sweetheart," he murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "And, for the record, I'm glad it's you too."

Steve continues to run his fingers over your back as you fall asleep. His fingers create a rhythmic pattern that mirrors the peaceful in and out of your breathing, only making your rest more soothing. He looks down at you and smiles to himself, reveling in the sheer joy of having you back, even if it's only for tonight.

Often the weight of his responsibilities feels too heavy to bear, but with you, there's a sense of solace that transcends the chaos of the outside world. Everything about you and your presence is a sanctuary. It's all a nice reminder that, after everything he does for everyone else, he's worthy of a little tranquility at the end of the day too.

Steve presses another gentle kiss into your hair before closing his eyes, savoring the sweet moment. "Goodnight, angel."

He hears your tired, softly grumbled response before he falls asleep. Though he tries not to let himself get too wrapped up in the moment, too used to your presence again, he does anyway. If there is anything he wants for the rest of his life, it's you next to him.

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[odatelier]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤUNLIKELY PAIR * CHEERLEADER!JENNIE

𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖲 ،،̲ jennie was the campus it girl. she had a hot boyfriend, good grades, and all the popularity one could want. so why did jennie care if you, a nobody, was getting hit on?

𝖥𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 jennie kim x fem reader ⋅ 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖣 𝖢𝖮𝖴𝖭𝖳 4,000 words ⋅ 𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖲 sub!idol, mean girl au, cheerleader x loner, explicit smut ⋅ LINK

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 ،،̲ sub!jennie, hard dom!reader, slow burn, jealousy, brat taming (!!!), teasing, suggestive themes, dry humping, spanking, begging, masturbation, jennie receiving oral sex, messy, cum eating.

“why were you talking to that loser?”

jennie’s arms crossed over her chest and she raised an eyebrow as she waited for your answer. if looks could kill, you’d have already been six feet under. she watched the way your eye twitched in annoyance. the empty classroom was eerily quiet for a few moments while you paused before replying blankly. “this has nothing to do with the presentation you said you wanted to discuss.”

jennie rolled her eyes. she was used to that deadpan attitude of yours, but it pissed her off to no end.

“yeah, well, i don’t care.” jennie pushed off the desk and stepped closer to you, shoving her index against your chest. she hated it, how towering you were. how she had to look up at you, while you had the perfect view of everything she didn’t want you to see. “just answer the question. why were you talking to her.”

now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “i was talking to her because i wanted to. it’s a free country.”

a scoff passed from jennie’s pretty lips at your answer. why’d she even ask? it was a stupid question to begin with. “of course you do.”

her head tilted back and she looked at you, watching a few strands of your hair brush against your cheeks. she was tempted to reach out and touch. her fingers wanted to touch the skin behind them, feel your pulse. wait. no. shut up, mind.

“you have bad taste.” she deadpanned.

“sure. . .” you trailed off with a sigh. glancing at the wall clock, it showed you had 20 minutes left before class. “anything else?”

jennie’s jaw clenched slightly. everything you said, the tone of your voice, the look on your face, even the way you held yourself ― it was all irritating. she wanted nothing more than to smack the indifferent expression right off your face.

jennie stepped even closer until only a few inches separated the two of you and she refused to back away. her own expression mirrored yours as she leaned back slightly, still looking you up and down. “why didn’t you ever text me back last weekend?”

you huffed sharply through your nose. she wasn’t going to let you go, was she? “there was nothing else to say. you were spamming.”

her nose scrunched up in annoyance and jennie narrowed her eyes. that’s when a new feeling started rising in her chest. it was ugly, something she didn’t think she’d feel for someone like you.

“i ―” she began, lifting one hand up to lightly shove your chest again.

“don’t ―” again, her hand pushed against you.

“spam.” and one more time. each word was punctuated with another push.

your expression flickered with something akin to what one would look at an annoying fly, her little shoves not deterring you or moving you much either. “are you done?”

jennie’s nostrils flared as she tilted her head back to glare at you. and why was it so much hotter when you glared? what a weird thing to be attracted to. attracted to. . . wait. she was not attracted to you. no damn way. you were annoying her right now, she should hate you.

the pushes finally stopped as her hand balled into a fist and rested against your chest. “why didn’t you keep the conversation going?” she was getting a headache now from you. why did you have to be so indifferent all the time when she was here feeling so. . . so. . . ugh. what was the feeling she had? she pushed it away, the feeling of wanting to grab your face or punch it or press her own against your mouth. it was annoying.

“because.” you shrugged, unphased. you hoped not reacting to her would bore her out and she’s leave you alone.

she was getting more and more pissed off with every word that passed from your lips. jennie knew she was hot, she was petite and soft and pretty. she was used to getting her way, she was used to men, women and every gender in between falling all over her. but you were indifferent. it was irritating, stupid and infuriating.

she wanted to push you. or punch you. or smack you. or kiss you. oh god. . . why did she want to kiss you all of a sudden?

“anything else you want to say or do?” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you looked down at her, almost tired of being in a constant state of annoyance. “or is her highness going to allow me to get back to class?”

highness? she was not a princess, far from it, but she did look like one. she was the epitome of doe-like perfection and she liked it that way. all the girls either wanted to be her or be with someone like her. and yet there you were, being disinterested and rude to her. acting like she wasn’t the most desirable person around. “oh, bite me.” the words left her mouth before she could even stop herself.

“i will if you keep annoying the crap out of me.” you suppressed a groan, sitting down on one of the seats. you knew she wasn’t going to let you go any time soon until she had her fun with you. gaze flickering around the empty classroom, you eventually stopped to give jennie a once-over, looking at her properly for the first time. her skirt was too short, you noticed off the bat.

jennie’s nose scrunched up with annoyance when she noticed you were checking her out. “shut up,” she huffed and leaned back up against the desk, her arms crossing over her chest. she made sure to shove her chest out more so you could get a better look.

“excellent comeback.” you rolled your eyes and looked away, finding the window more interesting than this mind-numbing conversation.

jennie hated the way you looked right now. arms crossed, shirt tight enough to show how well-built you were for a girl despite your pretty curves, sitting there and looking so relaxed. the more she looked, the more she realized the almost androgynous attractiveness you had. it confused her.

friends, family, strangers alike would fall over themselves to compliment or please jennie, but here you were, acting like you didn’t even care who she was. she wanted to wipe the look off your face. jennie was too used to people unable to take their eyes off her. no one ever treated her like this before and it pissed her off. “ugh,” she groaned, stepping closer to you. jennie reached for your shoulder and shoved you gently. “look at me.”

“there’s nothing much to look at.” you bit back without thinking, your lips twitching upwards slightly, suppressing a small laugh at your own response. “unless there’s something you want to show me that i haven’t seen before?”

jennie’s nostrils flared the moment that last phrase passed from your lips. oh, she really wanted to smack you.

jennie would show you something. show you there was plenty to look at. she stepped up to you and stood in between your legs. slowly, her hands came up and rested on your chest. “i’ve got lots of things i could show you.” she taunted in a low voice, her heart beating quickly. she felt almost lightheaded.

you were momentarily surprised by the fact that she toyed back at you, head tilting slightly as you felt a flicker of interest in your chest (and somewhere else). this was a first. “oh really? then go on and give me an example before i walk out of here. . .”

she’d give you a good example. the best example ever. her hand gripped your shirt and suddenly she was climbing into your lap, settling down heavily against your thighs, both hands now resting against your chest. jennie straddled your lap and she was close enough to see you, to smell you, to feel you.

“does this example work?” jennie breathed out, forcing her voice to sound seductive and not needy like she felt underneath.

“not really,” you looked down at her and your palms settled over her hips. “you’re not the first girl i’ve had in my lap. you’ll have to do more than that to get my attention.”

“is that so?” jennie’s eyes widened for a split second before a defiant look crossed her eyes. she moved, grinding her hips slowly against your own as she bit her lip. her hands began to roam up from your chest, fingers tracing against the skin of your neck and jawline. a shiver passed down her spine the minute she touched you. “do you really think others did better?”

“i guess you’ll have to prove otherwise.” you gripped her hips, fingers slightly digging into the curve of her ass as you made sure the tough material of your jeans rubbed against her clit through her panties with every grind.

a soft gasp escaped jennie’s lips at the feeling and it was almost embarrassing how much she liked the pressure. and the look in your eyes. . . she’d never seen a look like that from you before. her heart was pounding in her ribcage now, feeling more intense than it ever had before. “prove it, huh?”

jennie hummed, leaning forward until her chest was all but pressed against yours, her breath hitting your lips. damn, you smelled good. she felt your fingers slip under her skirt to feel the smooth flesh of her plump ass, squeezing the skin softly as she rolled her hips. jennie moaned softly at the contact.

“you promised to show me a good time,” you mumbled in her neck, nipping the skin under her jaw teasingly. “and yet i’m sitting here and doing all the work.”

jennie’s clit was throbbing softly and she felt her panties dampen as you grabbed her hips and pressed her further into your lap. jennie had the urge to press her face against your neck. she held back, just barely, and let out a slow breath. “you’re ―” she huffed, pushing slightly back into your hands while one of her hands tugged on your hair. she was not going to let you win. “you’re so insufferable, you know that?”

“tch.” you smacked her ass, feeling the fat jiggle under your palm. “careful, brat. you’re not going to get your way with me.”

jennie flinched slightly, but then her eyes narrowed at the fact that your expression didn’t change, still as emotionless as ever. “shut up.” she hissed out, her own grasp on your shirt tugging you closer so she could lean in again. jennie pressed her lips against the skin of your neck, and then nipped gently. “and i always get my way, mutt.”

“that’s it.” your annoyance flared at her words. you grabbed her waist and lifted her off your lap and onto the table, tugging her harshly until she was bent over the surface. keeping one of your palms on the small of her back, you made sure she was pinned face down onto the surface, ignoring her yelp of surprise. “either you behave, or i’ll make you behave. and you’re going to call me ma’am.”

jennie seethed. this was not how this was supposed to go. but the feeling of your hand on her back and the way you were holding her down was making her mind go all fuzzy. jennie pushed against the table, turning her head to glare at you. “i’m never calling you ma’am,” she protested defiantly. “i don’t care how big and strong you are, i’m not following your orders.”

“wrong answer.” your free hand easily unbuckled her skirt and let it slip down her long legs. jennie’s skin was smooth and blemish-free, the sight making you want to mark every inch. your gaze set on her baby blue panties. the cotton fabric was high cut and barely contained the round globes of her ass. you kept her pinned with one hand while the other harshly smacked the right cheek, enough to leave a nice red mark. “apologize.”

jennie hissed through her teeth as your hand came down. it hurt, but it didn’t hurt terribly. just enough sting that was quickly being overpowered by the fire that was starting in her gut. her heart was suddenly beating a hundred miles a minute and she gripped the wood of the table so hard her knuckles went white. “no,” jennie forced out. it came out like a strangled gasp and she wondered why the hell her voice sounded so weak.

“no?” your gaze roamed over her sprawled form. a slight red mark was blossoming in her ass you spanked her harder. you didn’t miss the wobble in her voice and the patch of wetness on the crotch of her panties. “apologize. now.”

“ah!” jennie cried out when another spank landed. another mark that would surely leave a bruise. why was her skin so stupidly sensitive? why was she feeling so weak? jennie should push back up, fight you harder, shove back against your hand. but the moment she tried, the hand came down again. and that’s when she felt that odd throb in her pussy. the need, the want. she was starting to get worked up. “just. . . just shut up, goddamnit.” she tried to snap back, but it no longer held the same confidence.

“what a shame. . . we could be having so much fun,” your voice was cold, but teasing, which was the most emotion you’d ever shown around jennie. unable to hold back, your fingers dipped past her panties to rub her wet pussy teasingly, fingers drenching in her juices. when you heard her moan, you pulled back and spanked her again, mesmerized by the way her ass jiggled. you refused to give her what she wanted. “but you won’t to be a good girl and listen. don’t you know only good girls get rewarded?”

jennie’s pussy pulsed. by now the wetness in her panties was obvious and uncomfortable, and the fact that you were being a prick was turning her on even more. jennie’s skin was burning and her heart was racing. she was starting to get lightheaded and her body was heating up. her breath came out in small pants and she found herself struggling against your hand.

jennie wasn’t a bad girl. jennie was a good girl. jennie needed to be a good girl. “i am a good girl.” she forced the words out, voice almost sounding like a whine.

“good. then apologize. and call me ma’am.” you smirked, feeling a rush as you enjoyed her giving in, but it wasn’t enough. you wanted to reduce her to a whining and needy mess. you wanted to break her princess act and make her beg you to get her off. you wanted her to beg for your fingers in her pussy, your mouth on her clit. “go on.”

“n-no, i. . .” jennie couldn’t say it. she refused to believe she was going to give in this easily. jennie had never given in to anyone, she was used to being the one in control, the one calling the shots. but here you were, forcing her to give in. jennie felt her eyes burn and suddenly she realized she was shaking. her legs were quivering and if you kept this up she was going to collapse. this was embarrassing. “i’m sorry,” she said stubbornly. “i’m sorry, ma’am.”

“beg.” you chuckled, kneeling behind her as you gave her another harsh spank before trailing your tongue over the pink and throbbing skin to soothe the sting. “beg for me to make you feel good.”

“please.” the word spilled out involuntarily and it took jennie a moment for her brain to catch up as she processed what she said. oh god. had she just pleaded with someone like you? begged for you to give her pleasure. jennie was ashamed of herself and her face flooded with heat. her head leaned down, so her forehead was resting against the table. jennie’s voice was quiet as she forced the words out, unable to do anything but push past her shame. “please, ma’am. i’ll be a good girl. j-just make me feel good.”

“hmm, finally.” your fingers hooked her panties and pushed it down, watching the faint wisps of her juices cause the panties to cling to her cunt before peeling off. you wasted no time before licking a long stripe from her throbbing clit to the rosy bud of her asshole, hearing her gasp. you could almost hear the wood creak from how jennie grasped the edge of the table. “and now you can get your reward.”

jennie’s eyes squeezed shut as she shivered from her soaked cunt being exposed to the cold air. the utter shame from the action of being bent over and having her pussy licked in an empty class, especially by someone like you had her clenching and squirming. she felt your hands grasp the flesh of her inner thighs and push them apart to reveal more of her wet and puffy pussy lips so you could wiggle your tongue between more easily.

jennie’s moans and mewls wouldn’t stop, especially when the hot appendage of your tongue laved over her swollen clit repeatedly, the sensitive bud throbbing. your tongue dipped lower and prodded her tight slit, feeling the walls of her cunt clench around the muscle. “needy, aren’t we?” jennie heard you tease, your hot breath brushing against her hypersensitive cunt and causing her to twitch. yet her legs remained spread for your mouth, hips pushing back softly as your tongue and mouth found a rhythm.

“f―fuck. . .” jennie breathed, feeling you pull away to spit on her hooded clit, shaky hand instinctively reaching back to grasp your head and push you back until your mouth met her pussy again. “r―right there.”

you smirked in her pussy as you followed her command, sucking the slippery fold of her clit in your mouth and feeling her jolt, tongue swirling through her dripping cunt. you felt your own panties dampen from the taste of her juices flood your palette, one of your hands slipping into the front of your jeans to rub your clit through your panties while you sucked on her clit and lapped up her juices.

“please.” jennie whispered shakily, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt something tighten in the pit of her stomach. everything else forgotten, her body slipped into instinct as she chased the high that was building up. her thighs were shaking and her mind had blanked. she was unable to think or bother about anything except the feel of you sucking her clit, your head moving from side to side. tongue and teeth lashing on the sensitive bundle of nerves, jennie felt tears gather on her lashline. “please.”

meanwhile you gripped her leg with one hand, your other hand furiously rubbing your own clit as you sloppily ate her pussy. jennie’s shaky fingers gripped your head in place between her legs while she moved her hips back to match your tongue. her cries were incoherent but you could tell how close she was by the way her thighs spasmed and her juices dripped down your chin.

“i’m so close. . .” jennie sobbed, voice a trembling whimper as she struggled for breaths, propping her leg on the table and you paused to watch the way her pussy lips peeled open, dripping with a mix of her creamy juices and your saliva. you pressed your face between her legs, fingers working your own clit quickly while you lapped at the hardened bundle of nerves. you didn’t forget to give her fluttering hole some attention, pushing your tongue in and out of the sopping slit.

jennie’s cries increased in pitch and volume while your tongue lashed at her cunt at a mind numbing pace, feeling her approach her orgasm while you felt your own build up. setting a pace between your tongue and fingers that you both reached your climax together, you felt jennie finally cum in your mouth with a scream, your hips jerking as your moans were muffled between her legs. you ended up coming in your pants with a muffled groan, the vibrations from your mouth prolonging jennie’s orgasm as she bucked her hips back into your face.

her thighs continued to tremble and her eyes rolled back, expecting you to stop once your orgasm had subsided; however, you continued licking at jennie’s walls. she let out a pained groan, trying to tug your hair away from her over-sensitised pussy, but you were stronger and held yourself there as you continued eating her out until her legs shook and she cried out. “n―no more!”

you panted softly as you hesitantly pulled away. strings of her juices connected her pussy to your mouth as you licked your lips and wiped your chin with the back of your hand. both of you were gasping your breath as jennie shakily turned herself over and glanced at you, her eyes dazed and head tipped back.

jennie struggled for breath, glancing at the ceiling as she attempted to gather her wits and grasp what she had just done. she was interrupted by the sound of the bell, signaling her class starting somewhere in the building as dread began to settle in her chest. what had she done?

she slowly sat up and pushed herself up off the desk. jennie’s movements were slow and careful, trying not to show just how weak her legs felt right now. her face was flushed and her breaths came out in pants. why the hell did she get so riled up like that? it made her mad. it made her want to punch you and kiss you at the same time.

jennie quickly pulled her skirt up and tucked her blouse back in, avoiding your gaze still kneeling by her the whole time. “i’m―i’m just going to go to class.” she didn’t know what else to say. jennie was still in denial about the whole situation. it all still felt like a fever dream.

“oh? already?” you cleared your throat, an amused glint in your eyes. you were unable to keep the smirk off your face as you watched her avoid your eyes and get ready to leave. it was pleasing to see how the bitchy little cheerleader reduced to a meek mess just from your tongue. “what a shame. . .”

jennie was not a mess. she wasn’t. sure, her body was on fire and the ache between her legs was annoying and frustrating, but she was not a mess. in fact, she felt more clear headed than she had in a long time. only because of the kind of release she just had that left her satisfied beyond measure. not that she’d ever admit that to you.

her eyes narrowed, but jennie still was avoiding your gaze. “i need to go to class,” she mumbled again before quickly turning to leave the classroom. ugh. she hated you.

jennie stormed towards her locker with a frown. her body was a mess of emotions. frustration, anger and. . . need. wait, need? again?

she took a moment to rest her back against her locker and let out a slow breath. the interaction ran through her mind and she huffed, trying to calm herself. god, you were so infuriating. jennie’s fingers gently touched her now-tender skin and she hissed slightly. you’d bruised her.

this can never happen again, jennie told herself. yet every time she recalled the last glance she had of you wiping your lips after giving her the most mind-blowing head she'd ever received, she felt her pussy flutter in tandem with her heart.

still, the dread didn't pass. god, what had jennie done? she put herself in an intimate position with a girl she claimed was a nobody. jennie had never been with a girl like that. did it always feel so good? it was hard to admit, but the truth was, she liked it.

and fortunately for you, she wanted more. so who was the bigger loser now?

𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗏𝖾𝗅

[msfantasy-anime]

My Little Brothers Wife

Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader x Platonic!Sabo

Summary: a requested short story on Koala delivering the news of Y/n’s bounty to Sabo.

Part IV

Koala’s head leans back, letting the cool breeze blow out the strands of hair from her face. A moment of peace shattered when a rolled up news paper drops from a sky delivery, right into Koala’s lap, spraying the pages everywhere.

“Freakin birds I swear-“ Koala’s quite cursing halts seeing a wanted poster Monkey. Y/n, 100,000,000 berries, your full photo on display for all its glory. “WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?!” She screams to her self, haphazardly strewing the news articles until she locates the bounty explanation.

Monkey. Y/n, wanted dead or alive for a 100,000,000 berries after brutally assaulting a Marine Officer for implying husband, Monkey D. Luffy, of negative behaviour. Y/n’s unprovoked attack and straw hat pirate association has earned her a large bounty for a new comer. It is yet to be confirmed if Y/n is part of the straw hat crew or acts independently.

Koala bolted throughout the hideout with the wanted poster in hand to the only man with an explanation. “SABO!” Koala yells, shoving the wanted poster so close to Sabo’s face, all he could manage to see was a big ‘W’. “Look at this! Can you believe this? I thought we were friends and she didn’t even bother inviting me to the wedding! Did you know she got married?! Why wouldn’t she tell me?!” Koala pouted.

“Calm down a second would’ya. I can’t even see what you’re talking about.” Pulling the poster from Koala’s hand, she retreats with her arms crossed over her chest, a grumpy expression holding stead.

Monkey. Y/n.

A small smirk breaks across his lips. It’s good to see your still alive and well, and wrecking havoc like you swear you wouldn’t when you last met.

Figures.

“Well Koala, what do you want me to say? I even officiated their marriage.” He says with a taunting smile, making Koala gasp in betrayal. “Relax, those two have been married for 12 years now.”

“12 years?! But they’re only-wait… 12 minus… hey, that doesn’t make any sense! You’re saying they got ‘married’ when they were only kids? So it’s not real.”

“No. It’s real.” Sabo says smiling softly once again as he looks at the wanted bounty. “That’s my little brothers wife.”

“So, you’ve got a bounty now.” Sabo says into the transponder snail.

“I got a what?!” You yell back into the snail, the volume of your exclamation causes the sound waves to crackle.

“It reads Monkey. Y/n wanted dead or alive for 100 million berries.” Sabo says which only makes you scoff.

“I didn’t even do anything! How did I get that large of a bounty?!”

“It says you assaulted a marine officer.”

“……he had it coming! No one talks trash about Luffy. Man, this is so embarrassing, now the world thinks I’m married to that loveable doofus.”

“At least you finally have a family name right?“ The transponder line turns silent. Sabo knows you well enough that your smiling. But what he wasn’t expecting to hear what you admitted next.

“Yeah … it is actually. Monkey is a cool last name…and now it’s mine.”

“Seems like Luffy finally worn you down huh? So, will you join his crew?”

“I decided that-“ a loud explosion sounds off in the background. “THE SHIP IS UNDER ATTACK! Ugh! I gotta go Sabo, I’ll talk to you later.”

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (poly 141 x afab!reader, female pronouns)

Calling this anon, HBD and I hope you enjoy this.

“Woke you up, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flutter open when you feel a hand caressing your face briefly, the sunlight seep through the seam of the curtain, basking the bedroom in a scrim of orange as your mind process who’s beside you when you meet a pair of tender brown eyes.

“Kyle…” Stretching out your limbs then roll out from underneath the duvet, you rest your head on his lap before answering him “Not really, was about to get up after all.”

A click from the door turns both of your attentions towards the direction, the door’s not even open fully, but Johnny’s voice pops up from behind already.

“Who got the lassie out of her beauty sleep already?” He closes the door behind, and the mattress dips when he joins you and Kyle on the bed. “Ye know you can nap a bit more, eh? A perk of being a birthday girl.”

“Before Simon and John come back from picking up the cake?” You snicker when Johnny’s eyes widens a bit at your words, but a scoff of laughter quickly replaces the surprise, follow with Kyle’s chuckles ringing from the top of you.

“Already said that she’ll find out one day, Soap.” He reaches his arms out again, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Not that hard to figure it out when you both started convincing me to have a nap every year around afternoon?”

“aye,” another pair of hands tracing circles on your calf, and you shift your gaze to meet Johnny’s again. “Forgot about we got a smart one for us.”

A shudder leaves you when Kyle gently maneuvers you to sit up, your head rest against his chest while Johnny scoots closer to you on the bed, and you huff out a laughter, feeling Kyle’s warmth seeping through his shirt with Johnny’s breath fanning on the nape of your neck. “So this is why they’re the one getting the birthday cake, and you two are the one staying home with me?”

“We’re more entertaining than those old men.” Kyle eyes meets Johnny’s for a brief moment, as if seeking his approval. Yet nothing speaks louder than Johnny’s hand traveling upwards, stopping at your inner thighs and palming the supple flesh in a sensual manner.

Your hazy mind’s clouded with pleasure, Johnny’s face burying between your legs, lapping like a starving dog through your wet folds, make sure every spots are taken care of and changes between sucking the swollen nub and teasing your entrance with little swirl of the tip of his tongue. He groans obscenely whenever you squeeze your thighs around his head, chasing each drop of your essence with the same passion of a bloodhound, no way he’s going to waste any drop of those precious juices. Leaning back on Kyle’s body, his hands slipping past the hem of your shirt, his lips pressing against yours hungrily, drinking all your moans elicited by his fingers flicking and pinching your hardened nipples down with his tongue leading you in a deep kiss. It’s until your back arch upwards, thighs trembling and riding through your orgasm with Johnny’s lips giving little sucklings to your twitching clit, resting your cheeks on Kyle’s shoulder and recovering from the release, that you finally notice the two hulking forms lurking at the open bedroom door.

“Told you muppets to keep her entertained, not wearing her out before she has her birthday cake.” John chides them with his gruff voice, but the amusement in his tone is obvious, not to say the smirk on his lips when you look at him with glazed eyes.

“ 'm just having my cake first” Giving a peck to your pussy lips, Johnny unabashedly smirks back to the captain.

“You’re not even the one whose birthday’s today, Johnny.” Simon sets down the cake on the nightstand, rolling his eyes before looking down at you, gaze soften a bit at the view of your blissed out face. “But the princess looks happy enough, guess Gaz and you had take good care of her, huh?”

“Can always count on us, Ghost.” You hum softly as agreement to Kyle words, which gets a snort from Simon, but he sure does approve his statement.

You eyes land on the cake, exquisite decorations with just your favorite flavor, they always spoil you even more when it’s your birthday, from refusing you to do any chores and ushering you to lounging around in the house, to gifts and cake that always make you confuse how these hotheads know that you’ve been storing those products in your basket for months but always close the app after staring at the ‘buy’ button and hesitating whether you should buy them or not.

“Thank you.” Your eyes shift from the cake and the presents, to meet each of theirs. Each of them distinct, convey their love to you in their own unique fashion, yet share the same affection and devotion to you.

“Does the birthday girl want her cake first…” John scoops a bit of the whipped cream from the cake, letting you have a taste of the creamy sweetness, then his chest rumbles with laughter when he spots the eagerness in your eyes, thumb slide past your lips and allow you to lick the cream clean from it. “Or she wants her ‘birthday gift’ from us first?”

You’re suddenly aware of how they surrounded you in a circle, John sitting in front of you between your spread thighs, his bulge restrained by his trousers nudging your puffy pussy—still wet from Johnny eating you out and you’re sure it’s dripping juices and staining the bedsheets now, body heating with desires of all your men drowning you in their scents— and Kyle’s cock already poking at the fat of your ass, his arms circling around your waist as he waits for your response.

“Doubt she’s able to enjoy the cake when she just wants us now.” Ghost tilts your head, tossing his gloves aside before sneaking a kiss from your lips, tasting the remnants of the whipped cream from devouring you in a prolonged kiss. You don’t have to give his crotch a glance to know he’s probably rock-hard too from watching your little show earlier.

“Cannae wait to get yer pretty cunny filled with our cum, eh?” and Johnny…the shameless bastard’s already stroking his dick through his sweat pants while teasing you.

“Well…Can’t say you’re wrong…” Giggling at them, you admit your wish without hesitation, before getting pulled into a kiss again, relaxing entirely under their touches and indulging in all four men’s pampering.

Because birthday girl deserves all the attention from her lovers, yeah?