#spain you have one fucking job

[livelaughlovepedri]

he’s happy to be there that was all I needed to know ❤️‍🩹

[caracolcondiarrea]

Tomorrow my parents are having a meeting with my awful English teacher bc she literally let nearly everyone in my class laugh at my face twice and she didn’t said or did anything and more things she did that showed she is an awful teacher to a student who has the C1 and oh my god, do I want to be in the room where it happens.

[rosalesbeausderholle]

I like how in my life I went from: "I am intrinsically different from other human beings because I'm smarter and a better person than everyone else, but I will always be alone for it, though" as a child, to "Well, people are very different and not everyone is as bad or as dumb. There's lots of people who are worth it and lots of people who are good and smart. It's not just me!" as a teen, then back again to "I am intrinsically different from other human beings because I'm smarter and a better person than everyone else" as an adult. And yes, I am on antidepressants.

[ceesimz]

feels like we only go backwards

is this all you'll ever be? (angst -> comfort/fluff)

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I am done with this.” 

All of your adult life, you thought that the six month mark argument stage was a myth. Maybe that’s because you hadn’t ever made it to that milestone before, dating wasn’t your thing.

“And everytime you say that, I don’t understand what you mean!” 

Apparently it was true.

“No, you do not get to pull that card. You know exactly what I mean. I come home after working all day, exhausted, just to hear you whine and complain about chores and other bullshit. You work from home, I travel all over Spain and Europe, so I'm sorry if I forget my chores once in a while!” 

You think it's unfair that the person you are truly, genuinely, wholeheartedly in love with is the one you can't stop arguing against. Relationships aren't meant to be like that, even you can recognise and acknowledge that after years and years of failed attempts at them.

“What, just because you're famous you think you're more important than me? That your job is more exhausting? I rarely work from home, the only time I do is when you're actually in the city so that I can try and see you! How fucking selfish are you? My job is important, in fact I make an actual difference to people's lives whereas you kick a ball around the pitch and expect everyone to worship you for it!” 

The first one began when you were running late picking Alexia up after she had a meeting, her car was in the garage and the weather was especially awful that day. Maybe the torrential downpour should have been a sign of things to come, things only got worse from then onwards.

“My job IS important! It is my life, if you can't understand that part of me then I don't know why you're still here!” 

Alexia feels like the walls are closing in on her where she lays on her couch, thinks her life might end after a particularly bad argument, the worst of them all so far. For weeks, the tension had been simmering slowly, but now it had boiled over completely. She wasn’t sure she would get you back.

“Wow. Okay. You know, if you never loved me, liked me, even. I wish you would have told me to leave sooner.” 

Both of you were to blame in all this, you two knew that. For some reason, you were just too stubborn to acknowledge that fact and do anything about it. So you both sat in different apartments in the same city, lost and fatalistically melancholic about a situation that could be solved with some simple communication. One conversation could save you from this, but were either of you brave enough to take that first step?

“Dios mío, now you are being even more ridiculous. How can you say that after all I have done for you?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you did, lying in bed and feeling sorry for yourself. Your neighbours were probably on the other side of the wall, laughing at the pity party happening in the next apartment over. From this moment on, you could never take the elevator again, you think the small talk that would occur might be your last straw.

“All you have done? Enlighten me on what you think love is, Alexia, because you’re making it out to be something transactional, and if that’s the case then this relationship might be the worst fucking ‘investment’ of my life. Don’t even act like you’re some kind of saint either, I have spent the last month feeling more alone than loved.” 

That final statement from you was when the penny dropped for Alexia. It was a sentence that would haunt her forever. There wasn’t even a thing she could do about it either; you slipped your shoes on, and walked out after it. 

You didn’t mean to leave at that precise moment, you knew that was the worst thing to do in an argument. In all honesty, it wasn’t even to make a point to Alexia. What you admitted in that moment felt way too vulnerable, you inwardly cringed when the words fell out. Your only choice then, it felt like, to save the last ounce of your dignity was to flee so that you didn’t give your heart the chance to feel bad for saying that to the woman you loved.

Being annoyed and angry didn’t come naturally to you, being sympathetic did. You knew you would have instantly felt a hundred times more guilty if you had stayed to see her reaction. And thankfully, for some time, you didn’t feel regret or remorse, you were hot with rage. Alexia didn’t try to stop you leaving, nor did she follow you. 

But then, in the quiet safe haven of your apartment, those feelings began to set in. Not even the dark of your bedroom or the comfort of your duvet could fend them off, sleep decided to go against you that night and opt out of helping you. That left you with no choice but to dwell on the evening’s events, the week’s dramas, and the month’s emotional turmoil. 

It had been one of the hardest months of your life, you just wanted it to be over. Instead, the only thing that seemed to have ended was your relationship.

And on the other side of the city, a two-time Ballon d’Or winner had reduced herself to tears after the realisation that all she had come to be in football had meant she had totally disregarded who she was at home and, more importantly, who she came home to. 

In football, when you make a mistake, there are twenty-plus people that will put you in your place and tell you exactly where you went wrong. In life, there is no such thing. There is no system, only consequence. Age was irrelevant when it came to learning things. Here, she was humbled in a way she had never been before, no nutmeg or own goal could match this. She knew, the moment it sunk in, that she needed it. 

She also needed you; she needed your love, your joy, your touch, if she ever hoped to feel whole again. The pain of the night’s occurrence was almost as horrible as the longing she felt when she thought back on the first months of knowing you. All was right in the world then – she was playing great football, and she had an incredible partner to come home to. Out of all the things she missed, all the obvious things, one thing that once seemed incredibly minor soon stepped out of the shadows and stabbed her right in the chest.

Knowing that, after the day she’d had no matter if it was good or bad, she would still get to come home to you was an unexplainable feeling. It was a phenomenon she wasn’t sure she could ever put into words. Something about being exhausted or full of energy, grumpy and miserable or content and calm, and still having someone that loved her was… priceless. If she lost that, you, forever, she was sure her heart would beat a little slower, have less will to live and function. A life without love like yours simply wasn’t worth it. 

As you both lay down in separate flats, only a car ride between you, the anxieties and the doubts were the same. Your soul was nearly a reflection of hers; the same morals, the same worries, the same guilt. Only the reasons for the last two were different. You were both determined characters, at work and in life in general. Alexia decided to put hers to good use.

Alexia: I’m coming over.

Initially, that text you received only made you feel a thousand times worse. The moment your phone vibrated with the notification, you scrambled to pick it up, hoping it was anything but that text. Maybe if you were in a better state of mind, you wouldn’t have spiralled at the sight of it. Maybe if you didn’t think your relationship was already dead and done with, it wouldn’t have been the final nail in the coffin. 

Staying in bed and feeling sorry for yourself was no longer cutting it, you had to get up and move. So, move you did. You never stopped pacing for a second. You waited for her in the lounge, a room that may as well have been a shrine to the woman about to serve you the worst news of your life. Framed photos littered the walls and any surface in sight – you were always an old soul, something Alexia adored about you. The way you demanded to have photos of every single person you loved on display reminded her of her mother, it was a sentiment that never failed to make her smile. 

But it wasn’t just the photos, it was the signs of life. The most agonising reminders of what simplicities you would lose; one of her jackets hung on the wall by the door, the dishes piled up in the sink from when you had shared breakfast just that morning, the book of yours she had been borrowing to read when she came over. They all served as a horrifying mockery of what you were about to let slip from your grasp. 

You had her, and soon you wouldn’t. 

The pacing stopped then, the sudden, strange grief strong enough to break through the autopilot movement of your legs and allow the world to come falling down on you. Whoever said that heartbreak didn’t cause a physical reaction clearly hadn’t lost a person like Alexia. She was one-in-eight-billion. No amount of searching would lead you to anyone that came remotely close to the beauty of her heart, her mind, and her soul.

“Cariño, let me in, please!” The pounding at your door brought you out of whatever pit of dread you had fallen into, only for you to fall right back into it the moment you came to. “Please. I need to talk to you, amor.”

“-if you can't understand that part of me then I don't know why you're still here!” 

Then why is she here?

The sound of the lock sliding and the door opening sent a surge of relief through Alexia, though it left the second she saw your face. Eyes full of tears and cheeks reddened by past drops that had fallen, even hours after the earlier altercation. The sun had set long ago, and it had taken any remaining hints of hope with it.

“Why are you here?” You said, knowing that the confidence you tried to put on crumbled with the crack of emotion in your voice.

“Let me in. Please, amor, I can’t… I can’t.” Sounded like she didn’t have much faith in her facade either, judging by the desperation in the way she spoke. There was also a drop of disdain too that you knew was aimed entirely at herself, you’d heard it before, and even after the way the day had gone, or rather the month, it still hurt to hear your favourite person in the world to talk like that.

If she was surprised at how you stood to the side to let her in, she didn’t show it. 

“Alexia…” You started, but trailed off fairly quick. You didn’t know what to say.

“No, don’t call me that. Please, not you.” She shook her head with the same amount of desperation as what was in her tone. 

You closed the door and slowly padded your way over to where she stood in the centre of the lounge. As you came to stand in front of her, you noticed the gloss of her eyes that glistened in the moonlight streaming through the window. The way you reached out and delicately put a hand on her arm was all instinct.

“What's wrong?” You asked quietly, but that only seemed to cause more unrest.

“Qué? What's wrong?! The fact that we love each other and we cannot stop arguing! Why are we against each other when we are supposed to be on the same team? I-it’s absurd, amor, I-”

“Ale, Ale, calm down.” Your other hand came up to grab her arm, holding tightly in an effort to grasp her attention. 

She didn't deserve your time. She had neglected you for the past month, yet here you were, taking her heart and caring for it with a tenderness that would make the world stop.

“I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t treat you like this anymore.”

Here it comes.

Your hands fell away when she said that, and the roles reversed. You slipped into a state of panic, though you tried to hide it, whilst Alexia’s composure came back to her.

“From now on, no more arguing. No more arguing, no more shouting, no more of it. It is not good for us, you don’t deserve it.” She had to get that out first, then take a deep breath, before she could move on to what really mattered to her. “I love you. These arguments hurt the both of us, but I cannot stand making you cry or making you feel alone. Dios, I will never make you feel like that again even if it kills me.”

Her words weren’t registering in your mind, you were nearly in a state of shock. Only minutes before she had showed up, you were in a near catatonic state at the anticipation of the death of your relationship. That wasn’t the case here.

“What?” You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest in a way that broke Alexia’s heart once more, because it was like you did it to defend yourself. 

She tried her best to soften her demeanour, from her body language to her eyes, and she cautiously stepped over. Her hands landed gently on your cheeks, brushing away the tears there, and she gazed at you with a softness you weren’t expecting to ever see again.

“I am sorry for how I have behaved towards you and I will say sorry for the rest of my life. I can’t lose you, amor, I would rather lose everything else in my life if it meant I could have you. I didn’t recognise that in the past and I am so sorry it took me this long to realise it. You don’t deserve my behaviour and I don’t deserve you.”

She let out a shaky breath, leaning down to rest her forehead against yours as she swallowed the lump in her throat and willed herself to get through her next words.

“What I said earlier, I do not mean it and I never could. I have never loved someone like I love you, and even though that scares me a tiny bit, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want you around, and I want you to want me around too. There are no excuses for the way I have neglected you and treated you, and I will be better. I will be better, I promise.”

“I…” You choked back your emotions and prepared yourself for her reaction to your next words. “I thought you were coming here to break up with me.”

Even though she was the one touching you, you sensed her whole body stiffen at that. You opened your eyes, not having even realised they were closed in the first place, and saw her eyes tightly shut and the familiar frown to her face. Though, there was a tremble to her chin that told you she was fighting back her sobs. 

“No.” Was all she muttered as she shook her head gently against yours. She quickly moved away then, and the loss of her was terrifying for a moment, before you realised she had just turned around to hide her tears for a moment when she wiped her face on the inside of her shirt, turning back afterward. Her hands cradled your face in the same way she did a moment ago. “No. I’m not breaking up with you and I don’t want to break up with you, ever. For as long as you let me, I will love you. I even-”

Her eyes went comically wide then, and if the moment wasn’t so serious, you probably would have laughed.

“What?” You wondered, watching in amusement as she groaned and threw her head back. 

“I bought two bouquets of flowers for you and I left them both in my car.” 

Even though you felt a little bad, you laughed at her admission. You laughed, genuinely and freely, and it felt different to any of the laughs you’d let out in the past few weeks. When Alexia moved past her frustration, she couldn’t help but join in with you. And before you knew it, your shared laughter bounced off of the walls despite the tears still present on either of your faces. The moment was funny, in fact the whole situation of both the flowers and the arguments that had been had were ridiculous.

Most of the time, you couldn’t even pick out why the argument started. Not to mention most fights were just rehashing the same points and excuses over and over. So yeah, it was ridiculous.

Alexia, however, wasn’t expecting you to wrap your arms around her in a hug she had missed for… she didn’t even know. Every act of intimacy of the last month had felt forced, with an ounce of apprehension in them. This hug, it was different. It was sincere and filled with the love that had been lacking recently. To be honest, it took her breath away.

“You’re not breaking up with me.” You mumbled into her neck where you had buried your face, a bashful smile on your face. 

“I’m not breaking up with you. If you’ll forgive me, if you’ll have me still, I’m not breaking up with you.” 

That sentence especially caught your attention. You leaned back in her arms, keeping your own tight around her, and looked up at her in confusion.

“Ale, if you forgive me. I said some horrible things too, it wasn’t only you. I was just as bad.” The blonde smiled sadly down at you and shook her head softly before moving forward to place a gentle, reassuring kiss to your temple.

“We both said some mean things. I want to forget it for now.” She whispered. You were more than happy to entertain her in that.

“Me too. I love you, Ale. So much.”

No relationship was perfect, that you knew now. But even through the arguments, the disagreements, the particularly bad fights, every moment outside of those occurrences were worth it, and more.

—

wrote this on a whim, and its... actually short? 😧 overall im not too sure about it, it's been a while since i posted something like this but hope you liked it 🙃🧡

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ farmhand!mingyu x farmer's daughter!reader

note ✭ this is very much inspired by the mingyu pictured above. (also i don't mention it explicitly, but girly's family is lowkey rich)

synopsis ✭ when your dad hires a hot new farm hand, you can't keep your hands off of him.

content/genre ✭ smut (18+ mdni)

word count ✭ 2.9k

warnings ✭ smut, mingyu and reader are horny af, outside sex (no one else sees them though), no prep, overall horny shenanigans i guess 🤷‍♀️, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex (they're not depicted as drunk, but they did have a couple drinks)

✭✭✭✭

Every time your father hired a new farmhand, they were always the same. While they never disappointed in the build department (they were always jacked, but that was kind of a requirement of the job), but they all looked identical. They wore the same brown scuffed boots. They had their hair in the same floppy cut with the same dirty blonde color. 

For a couple of summers through your teens, it had been fun. Your father would hire him after the final school bell rang for the summer. You’d introduce yourself to him when your father was nowhere in sight, and you’d spend the rest of the summer sneaking around with him and having your fun. When summer finally ended and school began, you’d bid him farewell and never speak to him again, and your father was none the wiser.

And it was fun! The first two times. Then every summer turned the same, and every single farm hand looked indistinguishable from the last with no discernible personality whatsoever. 

So, having just finished your second year of university, you were expecting more of the same. You’d have a gander, but you certainly weren’t expecting much from whoever your dad decided to hire this summer. 

“God, why couldn’t you have invited me to stay over at your house this summer? I’d take whatever hunk your dad decided to keep,” your best friend from school, Jennifer, whined over the phone as you pulled your car up the long driveway to your house.

“I did invite you, but you’re spending you’re leaving today for Spain, remember?”

“Yes, but y/n!” she whined again, “I need more muscly men in my life. This would be the perfect opportunity.”

“You’re gonna be in Spain for two months. I’m sure you’ll find at least one man muscular enough to fit your standard.”

“Yeah, whatever. You better have fun with this man without me.”

“Like I told you earlier, they’re so fucking boring. It’s not gonna happen.”

You put your car in park and began to gather up your purse and phone when you glanced up out the windshield to see probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life walking out your front door and toward your car. It was as if your severe doubts had summoned him.

Ever the chatterbox, Jennifer kept talking, “Well I’m just saying maybe you should keep an open mind. You never know what could happen. One magical night in the woods and you could be locked down for life. It’s just–”

“Jennie shut the fuck up.”

“Woah,” she seemed mildly offended, “sorry?”

“He’s hot Jennie. Like really hot. Not even a ten. Probably a twelve.”

“Ugh, you lucky bitch! I told you to keep an open mind,” you could hear her mother yelling at her in the background, “Oh shit. Girl, I have to go, but send pics! Please! I need to see the hunk you’re railing this summer.”

“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled while she hung up on you.

This man was really throwing you for a loop. Just based on appearance alone you could tell he was not the type of guy your dad usually hired. First and foremost, he was massive. Well over 6 feet tall and far more muscular than any guy you’d ever seen (and that was saying something), and the skin-tight black t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide it. His hair was dark and cropped, a far cry from the endless supply of shaggy blonde hairstyles you’d seen over the years. 

The cherry on top was when, after watching you stumble out of the car, he’d asked, “Where’s your luggage? I thought I’d help you carry it inside.”

“Oh,” you let out an awkward laugh, “It’s in the trunk. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he followed you around the back of your car and popped open the trunk, “I’m Mingyu by the way.” He stuck out a hand for you to shake it.

You grabbed the hand and he shook it with a firm squeeze. Holy fuck he has nice hands. “Y/n. It’s great to meet you Mingyu.”

There was no hiding the way you gawked at the way his muscles flexed when he carried your stuff inside.

✭✭✭✭

The idea of returning to your old ways was honestly exciting for you. Last night over Facetime Jennifer had gotten the whole rundown of your brief interaction with Mingyu. You fawned over his muscles, his cute lisp and the way he’d been such a gentleman to help you carry your luggage after what you assumed was a long day of work. 

She’d found his Instagram of course and found out that he was indeed just as attractive as you’d described (and he had cute friends too). 

This morning you felt more than ready to kick off what you predicted to be a great summer. And you weren’t starting slow either. You knew the routine of your father’s farmhands enough to know that Mingyu would start the day mowing the lawn around your house. He’d usually start later on Saturdays (today), too. Meaning that if you got out there by 10 am, he’d probably still be working his way around the lawn. Hopeful by the pool.

Which, by complete coincidence, is where you were. Laid out in your favorite bikini by the water. The dark sunglasses covering your eyes meant that your eyes were completely hidden, but it was obvious where you were looking. 

Not far from the pool, you could see Mingyu pushing the lawn mower through the grass of your backyard. The tight black t-shirt from yesterday was no more. Instead, he wore a white tank top that left his arms completely exposed. He glanced over at you a couple of times, but he never let his gaze linger long enough for you.

You watched him from your laid-out position in your pool chair for a good fifteen minutes before he disappeared into the shed, presumably to put the lawnmower away. While he was inside, you took a moment to stand and dip your toes in the water thoroughly enjoying the coolness of the water. It was nice, you had to admit, but you’d have to save that for later because, while you were distracted by the water, Mingyu had made his way to the fence that separated your pool from the rest of the yard. 

It was only when he cleared his throat that you noticed him standing there, leaning against the fence smiling at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you normally spend your mornings checking out your dad’s employees?” God his voice.

You stepped out of the pool, “Only when I think they’re worth my time.” You slid your sunglasses off your face and onto the top of your head as you approached the fence where Mingyu was standing.

“Charming. I’m assuming he hasn’t the slightest idea what you get up to, then?”

You laughed, “Of course not. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“So…” you brushed his forearm with the tips of your fingers, “What time do you get done?” You knew the answer of course, but it felt polite to ask.

“Seven thirty. Why? Hoping to get me alone?” He smirked

“I wouldn’t mind it.” You bit your lip as you no-so-subtly checked him out for the millionth time, “Meet me behind the shed at seven forty-five, ok? Don’t be late. I’ll bring booze.”

✭✭✭✭

Part of you wondered if he’d be there when you snuck out of your house at eight-fifteen. Yes, you were late, but that was part of the game. Your parents always went to bed early, and you were an adult. So getting out of the house unnoticed was no issue at all. If your dad noticed the six-pack missing from the garage fridge, you could just tell him you drank it or you could feign complete innocence. 

The weather was still warm despite it being completely dark outside, so your athletic shorts and oversized tee did just fine. You’d contemplated wearing a skirt but ultimately decided against it because you didn’t want him to think you’d give it up that easily. Even though you were already struggling greatly to contain your excitement.

He could hear the clinking of the glass beer bottles as you made your way to the shed through the freshly cut yard. As much as Mingyu would love to deny it, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you since this morning. Something about the way you were laid out in the sun this morning had left a permanent imprint on his mind. The secrecy of the situation was also incredibly appealing. It turned him on more than he’d like to admit, messing around with his boss’s incredibly hot daughter.

Mingyu wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were taking your sweet time on purpose. You’d made him wait half an hour just to see if he’d wait around for you that long. You wanted to see how bad he wanted it, and clearly, he wanted it pretty bad because you found him sitting on the bench behind the shed staring up at the stars.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

He laughed, “Sure you are.” He held out a hand.

You passed him a bottle as you sat down next to him.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, but it seems you just enjoy the idea of making people wait for you.”

“Maybe,” you turned so your knees just barely brushed his thigh, “But you waited for me didn’t you?”

“Hey, maybe I just wanted free beer.” He gestured to the bottle in his hand.

“I know for a fact my dad pays you enough for you to afford your own beer.”

He laughed and leaned his head back against the shed, giving you a full view of his neck. You couldn’t help but imagine kissing his neck, leaving plenty of marks in your wake. “He sure does. It’s one of the many benefits.”

“What else do you like about the job?” You were genuinely curious about what was so appealing about doing nothing but manual labor for an entire summer. Even if the paycheck was really good.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Gets me off my ass. Gives me something to do with my hands.”

“Oh? You good with your hands?”

“You just don’t let up do you?” He really did enjoy how insistent you were despite your attempts to make him pine after you by making him wait for you so long. 

“Not unless I’m asked to.”

You ended up talking with Mingyu for two hours. The two of you drank and talked about your lives, school, home, past flings, and relationships. By the time you two of you had finished off the six-pack you’d brought out, you felt as if you’d been out there forever. 

At some point, you’d put your legs over his lap. He caressed one of your calves with one hand while you played with the fingers of his other hand.

As much as you’d enjoyed this little conversation, the more you drank, the hotter he got, and you were hardly holding it together anymore. With every move of his hand on your calf, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

You took the hand that was already in yours and placed it on your cheek, “Mingyu…” you whined looking up at him.

“What, baby?” his thumb stroked your cheek.

You straddled his lap, sitting back on his thighs and moving down his neck and to his chest, “can we stop talking for a little bit?”

“Oh?” he questioned, lightly placing his hand on your lower back under your shirt, “What do you suppose we do instead?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked leaning further into him so that your chests were touching.

“You can do whatever you want, baby.”

That was all the confirmation you needed to lean completely into him and kiss him. The kiss was long and more passionate than any kiss you’d experienced from your past summer flings. His hands were on your ass, pulling you to hover over his crotch where you could obviously tell he was hard. And that would have made you smug if you hadn’t been sitting in your own arousal for at least an hour. 

You kissed down his neck just like you had previously imagined. He let out a deep moan with every mark and bite you made. You had failed to realize that one of his hands had left your ass until you felt a hand brush over your completely clothed pussy.

“Baby, as much as I love these cute little shorts, can I take them off of you?”

Nodding furiously, you leaned back, pulled yourself off of his lap and pulled off your shorts and shirt, setting them on the bench beside him. Of course, you weren’t wearing a bra, something Mingyu had noticed almost immediately when you’d sat down beside him. Before you made your way back to his lap, you reached for the hem of that stupid, useless white tank top that covered virtually nothing. You pulled it over his head with ease. 

“Wow–” you whispered.

He laughed and pulled you back into his lap, “As flattered as I am,” he ran a hand up your side, “I could say the same thing about you.”  

Before you could even think about how to respond Mingyu’s face was in your chest, feverishly placing kisses on your tits. He grabbed one with his hand and rolled the nipple between his fingers.

You gripped onto his hair and moaned softly. Your hips rolled over his clothed dick multiple times before he finally shucked off his jeans which had become uncomfortably tight. 

“Can I please fuck you now?” he asked.

“Please,” you begged completely forgoing the chance to tease him for his politeness.

You pulled down the waistband of his boxers and grabbed him. Running a thumb over the tip, you pulled his cock out and pumped it a couple of times. “God, baby. You better hurry up.”

He slid your panties to the side and ran a finger between your folds, “you sure you don’t want me to prep you?”

You shook your head. So much for making him wait. “I’ll be ok. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He nodded and reached to grab a condom from his pocket. Of course, he’d come prepared. When he failed to open it fast enough, you snatched it out of his hands and ripped it open with your own teeth. You rolled it onto him after what felt like an agonizingly long amount of time. 

He positioned himself at your entrance and slid himself into you with relative ease. You threw your head back when he bottomed out. You covered your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself at least a little quiet. 

“F-fuck, Mingyu!”

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he grunted out, “I’m gonna need you to move, baby. Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded and gripped onto his shoulder. As you started bouncing up and down on his cock, he buried his face back in your chest, kissing and biting at your tits, collarbone, and neck. He left plenty of marks on your chest that were identical to the ones you’d left on his neck, maybe even darker. You had brought your own hand to your clit. Desperately trying to find your release. 

“Oh god Gyu, I’m so close,” you grabbed onto his hair.

He hissed from the stinging in his scalp, “Me too, angel, me too.” His face was in your neck when you’d finally reached your climax, and he followed immediately after.

You both sat there, chests heaving, for a couple of minutes, saying nothing.

“Wow,” was all he could say as he pulled you off his lap and helped you put your clothes back on, tossing the condom into the trash bin beside the bench. You made a mental note to take the trash out before your dad came out here tomorrow.

You laughed breathily, “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him. Your hands found their way to his chest instinctively. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”

“Oh, was that not enough for you?”

“God, no, that was perfect. But I wanna take care of you for real next time.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I have a truck,” he nodded toward the red pickup truck in your driveway, “I can drive it down to the creek. The bed of the truck is actually pretty comfy when you put blankets and pillows down.”

Laughing, you said, “You want to fuck me in the woods.” He shook his head, “I wanna eat you out in the woods.”

God, this was gonna be a fun summer.

✭✭✭✭

“Girl, what!? It’s only been a day?” Jennifer’s voice rang through the phone. “Was it good?’

“For outside bench sex? Yeah, it was great. We’re seeing each other tomorrow night.”

She groaned, “Ugh, you lucky bitch. I’m so jealous.”

“What? No Spanish hunks?”

She shook her head, “not yet. But I’m hopeful!” 

“Do you still want updates, or are you gonna explode from jealousy?”

“No! Please keep me updated. I’m living vicariously through you.”

You laughed, “God you’re insufferable.”

“I know!” She batted her eyelashes at you, “You will keep me updated though, right.”

“Of course, how could I not.”

✭✭✭✭

thank you for reading! i knocked this shit out in two days (and you can probably tell 👀), but i'm genuinely surprised with myself.

anyway hope you enjoyed. reblog and like if you did! love hearing your thoughts

mwah~

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi Bunny! Could I request a croissant with a side of mocha coffee & champagne + Fernando please? 🙏🏻

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? look at the menu for more information! i love getting requests in! please if you can reblog and comment! this bunny feeds off praise! as for this one, thank you lovely anon! i hope you love this! enjoy!

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by fernando alonso (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, daddy issues, age gap (20s/40s), daddy kink, sugar daddy au, breeding kink, pregnancy, bimbo!reader, missionary, fingering

you'd go to visit 'friends' in spain during the off season of formula one, and you'd always come home with some kind of bruise. mostly on your face or knees, your father knew how clumsy you were, and didn't really bother him too much. his poor, simply daughter got another bump and bruise.

you were just happy that fernando's cum didn't stain the front of your shorts.

madrid was beautiful even in january. it wasn't particularly warm, but it wasn't freezing like your father's home across the atlantic. but that just gave you more of a chance to be closer to your lover, fernando alonso.

the much older formula one driver that was working with your father's marketing firm on a new collaboration. it meant you saw a fair bit of fernando when you were 'helping' your father around the office. (your father thought that since you couldn't get into post-secondary that some working experience would bridge the gap!). but, you were doing less organization of paper work and more having the formula one driver fuck you over top of the photocopier. (he even got a photocopy of your pretty tiddies out of it).

the world was such a big place, and you were just a simple girl.

but, you never did have to worry. not with fernando by your side, letting the older man keep you like a perfect little pet. and that meant spending your time in spain, letting the driver just make you feel like the most perfect princess in the world.

the house that fernando lived in was beautiful and gave you plenty of room to explore. you'd be by the pool or snuggled up in front of the large flat screen television.

you were a pretty live in toy that frenando enjoyed nothing more than to fuck the living daylights out of him. currently you were in the bedroom on your back with your sugar daddy crowding your space, with his fingers buried inside of you.

he said softly, "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." he knew it riled you up when he mentioned your asshole of a father.

you squirmed and said, "nando! c'mon! no fair?" your back arched a little when he rubbed against the perfect spot. your pretty pains dug into the covers as he continued to finger you.

he shook his head, "no, no. you are just too cute under my thumb. your father gave you your job to keep you busy, but i think that you work harder on your knees then in the office."

you whined, "i'm a good employee."

he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, leaving a wet mark on your skin, "sure, beautiful. you're the employee of the month." he chuckled as he slipped a third finger in, which made your core throb.

you squirmed a little more and reached for your lover. he went in for a searing kiss which made you moan loudly. you felt your heart batter in your chest as he continued to sink his digits into your pussy. the wet sounds made him hot all over.

"you're so pretty like this." he said as his cock twitched in his boxers as he continued to pleasure you. he licked his lips, "such a dumb little thing, you think you get by because you look so cute. but, just know, you're all mine."

you squeaked and nodded, "yes, daddy."

he took his fingers out of you then slapped your pussy which made you almost cum right there. he got himself out of his underwear soon after and got between your legs. his cock was impressive in size and made your skin burn as you watched him get comfortable between your plush thighs.

you looked up at him and said, "please, daddy. i need you." then kept your eyes on him as he shifted your hips up to meet his cock. he sank into your pretty pussy with relative ease, the entire process made the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

"my pretty princess." he purred, "so beautiful. so good under me, you are so painfully sweet. and stupid." he said as he placed both hands on either side of your body and started to move up against you. he felt the thump of pleasure in his head with every hard thrust.

"i'm not dumb, daddy."

he chuckled and grabbed you by the face to look at him, as he moved against you. he grinned at you, "not when i'm done with you, princess."

fernando was a rough lover, he was the kind of daddy dom who kept you on a tight leash. he had to, you had a habit of getting into trouble. maybe next time he'd get you a collar to yank on when he fucked you.

when he bred you.

that was what this all boiled down to. fernando had to make sure that his special little princess didn't stray too far. it was hard to do that when a plump little baby in your belly. maybe it'll smarten you up to be a mother. your father would be happy that his dumb little daughter married rich.

you whined as he continued to move against you.

fernando felt the sweat drip down his back as he continued to rut into you. the painfully sweet thing that he managed to trap, to keep under his thumb while he reamed your sweet cunt. he could feel his heartbeat in the back of his throat as he moved against you.

"you're so perfect.' he said.

"thank you daddy." you whimpered as you felt hot all over.

he loved it, he loved the control he had over you. the sweet little girl that he found, the place to leave his seed. let it spit into the back of your womb. it all belonged to him.

you whimpered, "please daddy." most sugar daddy's would pay to keep a baby quiet, but not fernando. he'd pay for you to raise his little baby properly. be a good mother and wife. it was a roundabout way of making sure you'd marry him.

he was a possessive old bastard like that, make sure he nabbed himself a pretty young thing he can empty his balls in and watch care for his brats. it was quite a charmed idea.

and you had no idea what was going on. only that it felt good when fernando fucked your cunt with heavy thrusts that made your mind swim.

"so precious.' he said, "and all mine."

you felt the moan get stuck in your throat as you arched your back. you clung to the soft covers of your shared bed and clenched around his dick.

"fuck, pretty girl. my princess." he groaned as he continued his heavy thrusts. your cunt felt like a dream around his cock as he buried it to this hilt, made sure that every inch was snug inside of you. he continued to move you up and down the bed as he fucked you.

with one last heavy thrust, he finished inside of you. you gasped heavily as you felt his cock throb inside of you. he gave it a few more thrusts of his hips before he stopped and relaxed. his shoulders were curved over top of you and panted heavily.

you looked up at him, still feeling a little blissed out. you said softly, "thank you, daddy."

he looked down at you and took in the sight of you. he smiled briefly at you and said, "that's a good girl. remember to take all of it."

-

your new years was in spain then became spring in spain, then summer in spain. now you were expecting a baby girl in october and you had a nice ring on your finger.

you spent most of your time around the house, mostly tending to things around it. you rubbed your lower back and soon felt the arms of your husband around your middle.

fernando came closer to kiss you on the cheek, he cupped your swollen middle and said, "how is my beautiful princess?" he melted against you, love the feeling of his child in your womb. he sighed contently as he said, "the most perfect woman." <3

[yukioos]

hiii honey!! can i request a leon and ada drabble kinda like ur ashley and leon one? but this time reader takes a liking to both but leon and ada don’t like each other?

BE MY BABY

SUMMARY: leon kennedy x reader x ada wong // on september 29, 1998, you first met leon kennedy and ada wong. six years later, you are sent to rescue the president’s daughter from a town in spain. the last people you expect to be there are leon and ada, who both seem to have an attraction to you. unfortunately, they seem to hate each other more than ever.

WARNINGS: not proofread, cussing, reader’s in the military, ada and leon literally hate each other

AUTHORS NOTE: hi guys! please send resident evil asks because i had so much fun writing this! this is kind of like my ashley and leon writing, so it’s not necessarily a full-on oneshot. it’s basically just ideas. this is 1.1k words.

being in the military is hard work. hours on the field and time-consuming training and meetings have tired you out quicker than you expected. but there is one thing you know for sure: being in the military isn’t for everyone.

september 29, 1998 was the day that changed your life. living in raccoon city was great, it had a supportive community and historical sites to visit once and a while. you’d just gotten home from a mission that took half a month to complete. you quickly became a lieutenant, and ever since then, your days have been filled with leading troops through missions.

however, you didn’t have much time at home before you had to evacuate to the police department because of the zombies. on your way to the department, you met a man who claimed his name was leon kennedy, and he was a police officer who was supposed to start his job that day. he was a sweetheart, far too kind and caring to be deserving of dealing with a traumatic outbreak.

for the hours you spent together, you learned a lot about him, and vice versa. he was a sweetheart, but you could see the sadness and pain behind his eyes. this certainly wasn’t how he expected his first day to go. unfortunately, it was as if the zombies were perpetual, almost every time you’d turn a corner, a hoard would be walking toward you.

the two of you then met a supposed fbi agent, who introduced herself as ada wong. she was mysterious, leaving randomly with no answers, leaving you feeling annoyed. there was something different about her, something wrong. you believed there was no way an fbi agent would randomly leave an officer and a lieutenant on their own to do their own thing, especially not in that situation.

you eventually parted ways with the two of them and found yourself safe for a short period.

six years later, you still remember leon and ada, secretly hoping they’re still safe or in touch. the trauma had followed you, and when you were sent by the president to find his daughter, you of course accepted. it seemed iffy that she was kidnapped by a cult, in a rural town in spain, but nonetheless, you did what you had to do.

he stated you would be accompanied by an agent, who he didn’t name. only when you saw another person standing by the police car to drive you to spain, did you realize who the man was.

leon fucking kennedy. he was actually alive.

your heart flutters as he gently says your name, “y/n?” and you softly smile, you feel exhilarating, and happiness runs through your veins.

instead of a quiet ride, like you would have preferred with anyone else, you and leon discuss what had happened the past six years. he had become an agent with the role of protecting the president’s family, and at the same time, you were moving up the ranks as fast as lightning. the president wanted the best and most talented people to save his daughter. luckily, he chose the perfect team.

you ask what happened with ada, and your heart drops once he tells you she’s a spy.

she seemed genuine, but your suspicions were proven right, she was just trying to get the g-virus and bring it back to her boss.even after hearing all that, you still feel sad for her. she went through so much, and the only two people who went through exactly what she did probably hate her.

but when exploring spain, you never would’ve expected to see her again. you persuade yourself to trust her again, because, in the end, she desires the best for the world.

leon feels the opposite about ada. he hates everything she does, every little word she oh-so confidently says, and how she’s always doing so much for you. she left the two of you, she doesn’t deserve you, as he thinks. he doesn’t want you and him to get manipulated again, and he thinks the two of you share the passion of hating ada.

leon took in all the words you said in the car ride to spain, but was mostly focusing on your plump lips. the way your lips would stretch into a smile, the sides curving upwards, would make his body feel warm. he missed you so much, more than words could describe. every day, he thought about seeing you again. he didn’t even know you were still alive until he heard the president mention your name once. as he spoke highly of you, pride bloomed in leon’s chest. he knew you before you became a very well-known military asset.

leon knew he fell in love easily. hell, he fell in love with you the first time he saw you at the police station. you were in the prettiest outfit, and once you escaped the department, he saw your necklace that had been lying on your chest, dropped on the ground. he kept that necklace for the next six years in hopes of bringing it back to you one day.

he gave it back to you in the police car, telling you straight up, and how he had hoped he would see you again someday. the gratefulness and red cheeks made him quietly chuckle. he secretly relished in the idea of you being flustered and touched because of him.

in 1998, ada felt the need to protect you and leon, she thought she felt attracted to him at one point. she then realized the idea of being with you would be much more wholesome and better for you. leon was just a rookie who didn’t know anything! there was no way you would warm up to him quicker than her

the rookie hardly knew anything, he clearly wasn’t taught to be weary of other people. he was too gullible, in ada’s opinion. there wasn’t many good things about him. his jokes weren’t funny, he didn’t have many appealing qualities, so clearly she was a much better partner for you.

seeing you in your cute, dark blue button-up blouse and black skirt makes her eye you like a dog eyeing a cat. she wants you all to herself, and will do anything to gain that. she would gently lift your chin or tease you while talking to you, asking “are you listening? seems like your mind is somewhere else.” and hook her arm around your waist to redirect you to a different path.

but she and leon knew the other won’t give up on attaining your love. i mean, who wouldn’t want you? you are the most perfect person ever, perfect qualities, perfect beauty, perfect skills, and that’s something they can both agree on. the spy and agent both want you to have the best partner, but both believe they are the one for you.

you hate how they can’t see eye to eye on what you think about the two of them. you love both of them. leon’s chuckle and jokes make you feel like you have a heart attack— in the best way possible, though! he always finds a way to brighten your mood whenever you are feeling upset and will voice his concerns about you. he was straightforward, and you love that in a person. another reason why you love him is that he’s one of the most handsome people you’ve ever seen. whenever his eyes wander into yours, your cheeks feel a little too hot beyond comfort.

ada is beautiful, and you are sure of one thing. red is her fucking color. i mean, god, you’ve spent days just thinking about who could wear red better than her, and that wasn’t even one of the main reasons why you love her! the way she does everything in a confident matter makes you adore her, she seems so sure of herself. she was so strong and far more talented than anyone you’ve known. the way she effortlessly avoids danger like the back of her hand, and protects you from it as well, makes your cheeks flush.

how were you supposed to choose between two of the best people in the world? the hours you spend with them are supposed to be calm, besides finding ashley, but instead, it’s stressful. all that time you only think about finding the president’s daughter, and the two love interests that cloud your mind for eternity.

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Four

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.7K

Series Masterlist

She was late for work, again. Her boss was going to kill her.

Just like last time she rushed around the house, grabbing what she needed before she left. This time she managed to grab lunch before she rushed off to the office.

When she got there, nobody noticed how late she was. There was a buzz of something else as she slipped into her cubicle, unnoticed. Everybody else was looking towards the bosses office, whispering to themselves.

"What is it?" She asked the girl in the cubicle beside her own as she leaned over.

The girl in the cubicle was also looking towards the bosses office. Staring, actually. "The hottest guy I've ever seen just walked into Oliver's office," she hissed. "Does Oliver have a son?"

"No way," Y/N answered. She too found herself staring towards the office, captivated.

Inside of the office, Lando was beating the shit out of Oliver Cooke, boss of HC Publishing. "You got the money yet, Oliver?" Lando asked between punches. His knuckles ached in the best way.

"Yes!" Oliver cried, thanking god that his office was soundproof. If his employees heard this, he'd never get over it. "Yes, I'll pay you!"

Lando stopped punching just long enough for Oliver to run over to his chest and pull out a stack of bills. He handed it to Lando, flinching when Lando raised his hand to count the stack of bills, to make sure all of the money was there.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said and strode out of the office.

Immediately the employees went back to work, glued their eyes back to their computer like they hadn't just been waiting for him to walk out of the office. The girls were pretty, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing into the cubicles.

Until he came across her.

"Y/N?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide in surprise. "Lando, what the fuck?" But then a smile crawled across her face. "Are you stalking me? I'm flattered but, seriously, you didn't have to go to this length."

"Not stalking," he said quickly. "But incredibly surprised to see you. I had no idea you worked at HC Publishing."

That was because she hadn't told him where she worked. They talked about everything but their jobs when they drank in his club. "Listen," he said as he leaned against the cubicle. "I've got to go to Spain for a few days. Do you wanna hang out before that?"

"As long as we can do something that isn't drinking in your club until the early hours of the morning. If I'm late again, my boss is gonna kill me."

Lando could do something about that. One word with Oliver, one flash of his bloody knuckles (which were currently hidden in his pockets) and she'd be able to do whatever she wanted in this place.

"Do you wanna have dinner at mine?" She offered.

"Yours as in where you live?" Asked Lando. He had no need to know where she lived, but it would certainly help. "Yeah," he answered, nodding his head. "That would be nice."

"Perfect," she said and quickly wrote something down. "I finish at five." She ripped the piece of paper out of her notepad and handed it to him.

Lando couldn't stop himself from grinning as he said his goodbyes. He was practically skipping out of HC Publishing, and he didn't give a flying fuck who saw.

"Y/N, what the fuck?" Several of her co-workers called.

She looked around at them. "What?" She asked as she logged into her work computer. "What did I do?"

"You know the hot guy that had a meeting with Mr Cooke! How?" They all asked as they crowded around her cubicle. It was all very intense.

She was the talk of the office for the rest of the day, a never ending source of gossip. She ignored it, pretended not to hear it when they theorised how they knew her. There were several people that theorised that she had slept with him, others that had kinder theories. One person straight up asked if they were childhood friends.

The end of the work day couldn't come quick enough. As soon as the clock hit five, she grabbed her things and rushed out of the office. Her co-workers were still whispering even as she left.

As soon as she got home, she checked in her fridge. There wasn't enough in there to make a decent dinner for two and she wanted to pick up some wine.

Showering and changing into her sweats, she headed down to the shops. It was a small shop and everything was marked up, but she still shopped out, purely out of convenience. She bought what she needed, plus two bottles of wine, and headed back up to her apartment.

With no idea what time Lando was arriving, she began cooking. She multitasked, managing to get dressed while she cooked.

What she didn't know was that Lando was outside of her apartment. He was dressed down, his suit jacket missing and the top three buttons of his shirt open, revealing his necklace against his chest. He leaned against one of the trees lining the street opposite her apartment and stared up at the apartment he thought was hers.

She ran past the window on her way to and from the kitchen and Lando knew. It was definitely her apartment. The area around wasn't the nicest; Lando had done enough shady deals in this area to know. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest.

He strode forward, making his way into the building. He already had her addressed memorised, reciting it in his head as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Lando passed two other front doors before he was standing in front of her apartment. The light in the hallway above him flickered as he raised his hand to knock.

"Fuck!" He heard from the other side of the door. There was a crash before the door opened and she stood there, hand on her hip as she smiled. "Welcome to mi casa," she said and stood to the side, letting him in.

Lando looked around as he strode in. There was no sign of what had made the crashing noise, and he could only assume that she had cleaned it up. "Nice place," he said, looking at the pictures on the walls.

There were some generic ones that she obviously hadn't changed from when she bought the frame. Pictures of family, pictures of pets, pictures of friends. They made her walls bright and colourful.

She had lights strung up around the apartment. Comically large hearts lit by fairy lights, classic chilli pepper lights and more. The couch was covered in blankets and cushions and a giant eight ball rug on the floor.

The apartment had a good feeling spreading through his chest.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled the first bottle of wine out of the fridge and opened the top. "My friends say my calling is interior design. My bank account says to stop buying everything that looks cool." She poured out the wine and handed a glass to Lando.

They tapped their glasses together and she invited him to sit on the sofa. They talked and she managed to take his mind away from his impending trip to Spain. Periodically she ran off to check on dinner and set the table.

After a good fifteen minutes of drinking and chatting, she plated up the food and invited Lando to join her at the table. He brought his wine with him, slipping into the seat opposite her as she lit a candle.

"Do all the guys get a candle lit dinner?" He asked with a teasing smile.

"What guys?" She answered through a laugh.

For a moment, they ate in silence. Well, almost silence. Lando let out a series of moans as he took the first bites. "Fuck me," he said as he got more food onto his fork. But he had no more positive words as he wolfed everything down at an inhuman speed.

She was eating just slightly slower. "So, why were you at the publishing house?" She asked as she picked up her glass.

Lando stopped eating. He should have expected her to ask, but he hadn't. "Uh," he began, trying to formulate a lie. Not that he wanted to lie to her, but he wanted to keep her as far away from his world as he could. "Uh, the people I work for own the building that you guys rent," he said. "I was... having a chat with Oliver about the changing rates," he finished and quickly went back to his food.

She nodded. "It's kind of cool," she said, her gaze on her food. "That you guys own the place where I work."

Lando nodded in agreement, but mostly because he didn't want to say anything else on the matter.

But she had more questions. "You said you're going to Spain, right?" She asked and he nodded his head, still eating. "So, what're you going for?" She asked enthusiastically. "Family holiday?"

Again, Lando didn't want to lie to her. But he had no other choice. He told her as much of the truth as he could. "We're having a wedding out there," he answered.

"A wedding, huh? Fancy."

No, it was going to be traumatising, Lando thought as he finished his food. It was going to be a beautiful ceremony, he knew, but he was dreading it.

It was switch turned on in his head. "Hey," he said suddenly. "Do you wanna come with me for the wedding?" He asked.

"Seriously?" She asked, surprise in her voice.

He nodded his head. "Yeah, hell yeah! It's gonna be a nice ceremony and they'll have an open bar, and I could use the moral support."

"I'd love to, Lan," she said, letting a smile cross her face. "Thanks. I can't wait."

So much for keeping her as far away from his world as he could.

Permanent Taglist: @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minkyungseokie @formulaal @darleneslane @hiireadstuff @urfavnoirette @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris

Series Taglist (CLOSED): @millinorrizz @cinnamongirlontv @sainzluvrr @aquangxl @hollie911 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @queenofmanydreams @somepeoplemaybe @shobaes @thatsusbitch @ibanstro @sobersidedly @ririgy @barcelonaloverf1life @hotbuns13 @dinodumbass @bellezaycafe @maddie-naps @yl90 @itscrzy @dontleaveitsmyfault3 @jule239 @noneofyourfbusinessworld @annispamz @mxmtewnz @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eviethetheatrefreak @lovejunz @nervous-bee @lifelessfan @phantomxoxo @ln4norizz @ladymarvel27

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

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

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

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

Chapter 8 - Last Night | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.9k

Jude leaned casually against the kitchen island, a drink in hand, as he made small talk with the girl who had been eyeing him all night. She was attractive, with hair that fell in waves around her shoulders and a confident smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was saying something about her job, but Jude’s mind kept drifting, his thoughts unwillingly turning back to you. As the girl laughed at something he’d said—a joke that felt hollow even as he told it—Jude’s heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest. Everything about this felt wrong. The way she looked at him, the way she leaned in a little too close, the way her laughter felt forced. She wasn’t you. She didn’t make his pulse quicken, didn’t challenge him in ways that both frustrated and fascinated him. She didn’t make him feel like he was teetering on the edge of something incredible and terrifying all at once. The girl’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he forced a smile, trying to engage in the conversation. But as she spoke, he found himself comparing her to you in every way. The way her laugh wasn’t as genuine, the way her eyes didn’t light up with that same spark of mischief. She was perfectly fine, but she wasn’t you. Jude’s grip tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning a shade lighter. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be talking to this girl, this close to her,  trying to convince himself that he could be the person he used to be—the one who didn’t care, who didn’t get caught up in feelings he couldn’t control. But with every passing second, it became more and more clear that he couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t want to. Before he could extricate himself from the conversation, he felt a familiar presence at his side. He turned to see Trent standing there, a look of confusion and concern etched across his face. Trent glanced at the girl Jude was talking to, then back at Jude, his brow furrowed.

“Jude,” Trent said, his voice polite but laced with underlying tension. “C’mere for a minute, mate.” Jude hesitated, caught between the girl’s expectant gaze and Trent’s pointed look. Finally, he nodded, excusing himself from the conversation with a forced smile. As he and Trent stepped away, Jude could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of guilt and frustration churning in his stomach.

“What the hell are you doing? You need to drop this shit. You know what you're doing, mate. ” Trent asked quietly once they were out of earshot, his tone more confused than angry.

“It’s nothing, bro. Just talking.” Jude ran a hand over his hair, exhaling sharply.

“That didn’t look like nothing. I thought you were with Y/N. What’s going on? You have a fight? I thought things were good.” Trent’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it. 

“Nah, we’re good. I am into Y/N,” he admitted, his voice low, “but we’re not… She’s not my girlfriend, okay? It’s not like what you have with Whit. It’s so different.” Jude felt a pang of shame at Trent’s words, but he tried to shrug it off, to play it cool. 

“Why not? You like her, she likes you… She’s flown to Spain twice to fucking see you. Why are you holding back?” Trent crossed his arms, his expression growing more serious.  Jude opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. How could he explain the fear that gnawed at him—the fear of losing himself in someone else, of being vulnerable in a way he’d never been before? The truth was, he did want what Trent had with Whitney. They we’re engaged, they had a baby, they had lived together for years, but the most enviable aspect of it, they were unequivocally in love. He envied it more than he cared to admit. But the idea of giving himself over to something so uncertain, so unpredictable, terrified him.

“I’m not ready for that,” Jude said finally, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m not like you, Trent. I can’t just… dive into something and hope it works out.” Jude took a deep breath. 

“I’m not hoping bro… I put work in. We put in effort for it to work out. You should too. Stop dragging her around if you aren’t ready. It’s fucked up. Jude, I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you like this. Y/N means something to you—more than any of the other girls you’ve been with. Don’t throw that away because you’re scared.” Trent’s expression softened, his concern for his friend clear. Jude looked away, his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to confront the truth that Trent was so easily pointing out. “If you don’t want her, don’t fucking do this, tell her.” But he couldn’t deny it, either. You had gotten under his skin in a way that no one else ever had. You were all he could think about, even when he tried to distract himself with someone else.

“I do want her. I just don’t know what to do,” Jude admitted, his voice strained. “It’s like… she’s all I can think about, even when she’s not around. And that scares the hell out of me, bro.” He sighed.

“Then stop fighting it,” he said simply. “You’ve got something good with Y/N. Don’t mess it up because you’re afraid. Trust me, it’d be worth the risk.”  Trent placed a reassuring hand on Jude’s shoulder. Jude swallowed hard, the weight of Trent’s words sinking in. He knew his friend was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. Still, as he glanced back at the party, at the girl he’d been talking to just moments ago, he knew that nothing here could compare to what he had with you.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I need to stop fucking about.” Jude nodded, the decision finally settling in his chest. He hated that he was conceded. He hated that Trent was right. 

“Good. Stop being a fucking donut and go upstairs.  Go upstairs and find her please. She’s the one you should be with tonight.” Trent smiled, relieved.  Jude nodded, feeling a sense of resolve he hadn’t had before. As he made his way back through the party, the noise and the people faded into the background, his focus solely on you. He didn’t know what the future held, he was praying that when push came to shove he’d be ready to take the plunge. For you, it was worth it.

Jude climbed the stairs with a heavy heart, a type of guilt he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy who had done something wrong but didn’t quite know how to fix it. As he approached the door to his room, the weight in his chest only grew… why did he just do that? When he finally opened the door, the sight before him made his heart break. There you were—curled up in his bed, looking so peaceful, so angelic, that it nearly undid him. The soft light from the hallway illuminated your face, casting a gentle glow over your features. Your hair was splayed out on his pillow, and your chest rose and fell with the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. You were perfect, and all he could think about was how much he wanted this—wanted you—to be his every night. Carefully, Jude crossed the room and slipped into bed beside you. As he pulled you into his arms, he felt the warmth of your body seep into his, grounding him in a way he desperately needed. You stirred, your eyes fluttering open as you felt his presence, and you instinctively cuddled closer, pressing soft, sleepy kisses to his bare chest. Jude stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing. The guilt gnawed at him, sharper now that he was lying next to you. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have even entertained the thought that there could be anything better than this—than you? After all the turmoil from him entertaining a girl the other week, was he delusional? The very idea was absurd, and the embarrassment of his earlier actions weighed heavily on him.

“Baby…What took you so long?” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin. Still half-asleep, you nuzzled into him, your voice soft and drowsy. Jude’s heart clenched at the question. He grappled with what to say, not wanting to lie to you, not wanting to keep any more secrets. But the truth was complicated, and he didn’t want to hurt you with it. 

“I was… just talking,” he said, his voice quiet and uncertain. Finally, he settled on the simplest answer, though it felt inadequate. You hummed in response, your eyes closed as you clung to him, but there was a hint of something in your voice—a slight tension that hadn’t been there before. Even in your tired state, you could sense that something was off, something was troubling him. And as much as you wanted to ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach, you couldn’t quite shake it.

“Jude… is everything okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a mix of concern and weariness. You tightened your grip on him, your kisses trailing up to his neck as if to reassure both of you. You hated that now you were scared of him being with other women. 

“Yeah, angel.” he whispered back, his voice strained. “Everything’s fine. Just… just tired, I guess.” Jude’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, wishing he could just erase the last few hours.  But even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t enough. You deserved more than this, more than half-truths and evasions. You deserved all of him—the real him—and he wasn’t sure he was ready to give that, but he knew he had to try. As you drifted back to sleep in his arms, Jude made a silent promise to himself: he wouldn’t let this—let you—slip through his fingers. Not now, not ever.

Whitney caught you in the hallway the next morning, her expression a mix of concern and determination. You two had always been close, but Whitney’s protective side was out in full force today, especially after what she’d heard from Trent last night when they had gone to bed. 

“Y/N, can we talk?” Whitney’s voice was soft, but there was an underlying tension that made your stomach tighten. You nodded, trying to suppress the unease rising within you. You’d seen the way Jude had been acting the night before, and though you tried to push your fears aside, they lingered like a dark cloud over your thoughts. Whitney led you into the small sitting room at the back of the house, away from the noise and commotion of the morning. Once you were seated, Whitney wasted no time getting to the point.

“Trent told me what happened last night,” Whitney began, her eyes searching your face for a reaction. “He said Jude was talking to another girl at the party right after you went up and not in a platonic way… and that Trent had to step in. Even if it was harmless… it’s really not nice.” Your heart sank. You’d suspected something was off, but hearing it confirmed made you feel like the ground was slipping from beneath your feet. Still, you forced a smile, trying to brush it off.

“It’s fine, Whit. Really,” You said, your voice steady even though your heart wasn’t. “Jude and I… we’re not anything serious. We’re into each other, that’s it. It’s meant to be just fun.” You lied. And the lie fucking hurt. 

 “YN, I know you. And I know you care about him—probably more than you’re willing to admit. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt.”  Whitney frowned, clearly not convinced. You looked away, your gaze fixed on a distant point outside the window. You wanted to believe that everything was fine, that you could keep your heart protected behind the walls you’d built. But the truth was, those walls were starting to crack, and it scared you more than anything.

“It’s just… complicated,” You finally admitted, your voice quieter now. “Jude’s not the kind of guy who wants to settle down right now I don’t think and I’m not the girl who wants to get her heart broken.” You sheepishly told her. Whitney reached out and took yorur hand, squeezing it gently. 

“I get that. But maybe you’re not giving yourself—or him—enough credit. Jude cares about you, Y/N. Trent said he was acting weird last night, and I think it’s because he doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling.” Whitney sympathetically smiled at you. You bit your lip, your emotions swirling in a confusing mix of hope and fear. You’d seen glimpses of something deeper in Jude, moments where he’d let his guard down just enough to show you that there was more to him than the carefree playboy he pretended to be. But you’d also seen the hesitation, the way he pulled back whenever things got too real.

“It’s just… he’s used to keeping things casual and so am I. You know I always have.” You said, your voice faltering slightly. “And I don’t know if I can let myself get close to someone who might not be there when it really matters.” Whitney’s gaze softened, her worry for her friend evident. 

“You’re right to protect yourself, but don’t shut him out completely. Maybe you need to give him a chance to show you who he really is. Maybe he just needs a little time to figure things out.” You nodded, though your heart still felt heavy.  “Y/N… you always have but you haven’t always had to.” She cooed gently. You wanted to believe Whitney, wanted to believe that Jude could be different, that he could be the person you needed him to be.But the fear of getting hurt, of letting yourself fall only to be left alone, was almost too much to bear.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, squeezing Whitney’s hand in return. “But for now… I’m just going to take things one day at a time. No expectations, no promises.” You couldn’t even pretend to smile as you said it because that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted promises and you wanted to expect things of him. 

“That’s fair. Just… don’t forget that you deserve someone who’s all in, Y/N. Someone who sees how amazing you are and doesn’t want to let you go.” Whitney smiled, though there was still a trace of worry in her eyes. You nodded, your heart aching with the truth of Whitney’s words. As you stood up and made your way back to the rest of the house, You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something—something that could either lift you higher than you’d ever been or break you completely. And the scariest part was, you weren’t sure which way it would go.

You were curled up on the couch later in the day, head resting against Jude’s chest, completely knocked out from a mix of exhaustion and the drinks you’d had yesterday night. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was the only sound in the quiet room. Jude, very much awake, ran his fingers lazily through your hair, his gaze soft and protective. He was hungover too, but he didn’t mind, not with you draped over him like this. Trent came over to the couch, having just said his goodbyes to Denise, Whitney who was still saying hers. Without warning, he flicked Jude’s ear, pulling him out of his reverie. Jude winced, then grinned up at Trent, lifting one arm for a half-hearted dap without disturbing you.

"You alright, mate?" Trent teased, eyeing the two of you with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve got your hands full."

"Yeah, I don’t wanna move. Might wake her up." Jude chuckled, keeping his voice low so as not to wake you. Trent raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer.

"Nah, that’s not it," he teased, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "It’s not about waking her up, it’s ‘cause you like it. You like her laying on you, you like taking care of her." Jude couldn’t help but laugh softly, though he knew Trent was right. He enjoyed having you this close, the feeling of being needed, and maybe even more than that, the feeling of taking care of you, of you trusting him enough to fall asleep against him. He was in deep, and he knew it.

"Yeah, yeah," Jude grumbled, shaking his head with a smile. "Alright, maybe. But keep that to yourself, yeah?"

"Too late for that, bro. You’re already in trouble so don’t fuck it up." Trent gave him a light punch on the shoulder, still grinning. Jude let out a quiet laugh, glancing down at you again, your peaceful face nestled against him. He didn’t mind being in trouble. Not if it meant moments like this with you.

When Jude picked up the injury, you knew it was going to be a long road for him. It wasn’t just the physical pain or the rehabilitation that weighed on him—it was the feeling of purposelessness, the uncertainty of what he was without football. You curled up next to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he vented his frustration. He wasn’t the kind of guy to let anyone see his vulnerability, but with you, he felt safe enough to spill his thoughts.

"It's not the rehab, you know?" he started, his voice low and filled with frustration. "It's the fact that I'm just sitting there, useless. I hate watching from the stands... makes me feel like I’m not contributing to anything, like I’m just taking up space." You ran your hand across his chest, feeling the tension building in him as he spoke. 

"I can’t imagine how tough that must be," you said softly, "but Jude... you’re so much more than just football. I know that’s hard to believe right now, but you are. Football’s what you do, not who you are." He sighed, staring at the ceiling as if it held some answers, but you knew he was listening, even if he didn’t say it right away. The weight of sitting out a game at the Bernabéu, watching his team battle on without him, was too much for him to bear. 

"I'm supposed to be out there. That’s where I belong, on the pitch. Not stuck in a suit, sitting on the sidelines," he muttered. Then, his voice softened as he turned toward you, his gaze searching yours. "Will you come with me to the match? I don’t want to sit up there alone." You blinked, surprised by the question but also deeply touched. You knew this was more than just wanting company. This was him letting you into his world—really letting you in. This wasn’t about a night out, or a private moment shared between just the two of you. This was about being seen with him, in front of the world, at his place of work where every move he made was watched, scrutinized. And he wanted you there, right beside him. It was a gesture of trust, of significance. Jude had built walls around his life, carefully separating his public and private selves, but now he was pulling you through those barriers. Your heart swelled with the realization that this wasn’t just about sitting in a box seat at the Bernabéu. This was Jude telling you that your support, your presence, had become something he relied on, something he couldn’t imagine going without.

"Of course," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "I’ll be right there with you." He pulled you closer, resting his head against yours, his breath a little steadier now. There was still so much for him to work through, but in that moment, you felt like the invisible walls between you had crumbled a little more. You were part of his world in a way you hadn’t been before, and the weight of that made your chest tighten with emotion. As you lay there, you couldn’t help but feel the enormity of what it meant. The world would see you two together, no more hiding, no more secrecy. Jude needed you in a way he hadn’t before, and that thought filled you with both warmth and a sense of responsibility. You wanted to be there for him, to lift him up when he felt purposeless, to show him that his worth went beyond the pitch. In that quiet, intimate moment, you realized that you’d become part of his foundation, and in some ways, he had become part of yours.

You were engrossed in a video, scribbling notes in your notebook while sitting cross-legged on Jude’s bed. The topic was one you couldn’t afford to miss—an upcoming art exhibit back in New York, one you really needed to be home for. Your focus was razor-sharp until you felt Jude’s presence beside you. He flopped down dramatically, his larger frame pressing into yours as he leaned his head into your lap.

"What’re you doing, angel?" he asked, his voice low and curious looking up at you.

"I need to pay attention," you muttered, trying to focus on the details of the exhibit, but Jude wasn’t so easily deterred.

"Can I listen with you?" he asked, a little more earnestly this time. 

“You don’t have to.” You smiled. At first, you were ready to brush him off, but something in his tone made you pause. 

“Can I listen with you?” he repeated again persistently. He just wanted to be with you. You sighed softly, running your fingers over his hair in a distracted motion, scratching at his scalp while the video continued. Jude grabbed the pen from your notebook, and even though it was unclicked, he began tracing it over your skin in idle strokes. His touch was light, almost absentminded, but it sent small shivers across your arms. You could tell he was about to ask something—his lips parted—but before he could get the words out, you shushed him gently.

"I just wanna know your middle initial," he whispered, smiling against your thigh. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at your lips.

 "You're were right. It's ‘y/m/i,’" you finally admitted before leaning down to kiss his temple. He had been drawing your initials on your skin, you felt the letters over and over again. Satisfied, Jude clicked the pen and, with careful precision, began to write his own initials now—'JVWB'—on your arm. The ink left a subtle trail on your skin, a quiet mark of him. When he finished, he gently turned your hand and placed the pen in it, watching you with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. Wordlessly, you took the pen and did the same, tracing your initials onto the inside of his wrist. You both glanced at the marks, your initials resting against each other’s skin, a quiet connection. You didn’t say anything more, but neither of you wiped the ink away. It felt right, leaving it there.

The morning of the match, the energy between you and Jude felt different. As you both got dressed in the warm glow of your shared space, there was a quiet, almost unspoken intimacy that flowed between you. Jude was focused on pulling together his outfit, looking for a middle ground between subtly but professional, while you carefully picked out your own clothes—stylish, sophisticated, a Miu Miu denim jacket, a leopard mini skirt, tall black boots, along with the Chanel bag Jude had gotten for you. You knew you could have worn something simple, maybe a Madrid jersey, but something about today felt like it needed a more personal touch. This wasn’t about being just another person in the crowd. When Jude looked over at you, his eyes flickered with admiration. A slow grin spread across his face as he took in your appearance. 

"You look gorgeous," he said, his voice soft, but there was an edge of pride in it. "The club might have to put you in the trophy cabinet after this." His playful smirk made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the warmth that flooded your chest. You both left for the stadium, and though Jude wasn’t on the pitch today, the moment you arrived, you could feel the weight of being by his side. The cameras were everywhere, capturing the scene, projecting it onto the big screens for the entire stadium and anyone watching from home to see.  Jude sat beside you, his presence calm but solid, like a shield against the swirling energy of the match day. When the camera panned to him, he raised his left hand, giving the crowd a wave, but what made your heart skip a beat was the way he kept his right hand intertwined with yours. His fingers laced through yours, resting gently on his thigh, a subtle gesture that wasn’t overt but spoke volumes.  It was bold, and in a world where he could easily keep things between the two of you private, he chose to let people see this small but meaningful connection. You weren’t hidden in the background anymore; you were sitting there beside him, as much a part of his world as he was in yours. That quiet gesture had your heart racing in a way you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just the thrill of being seen with Jude; it was more than that. It was the sense that, for the first time in your life, someone truly saw you for who you were, beyond the surface, beyond the glamor or the assumptions people had about you. Jude’s hand in yours wasn’t about possession or display—it was about acknowledgment, appreciation. He saw you, the real you, and it made you feel like you were falling for him all over again, but deeper this time. You glanced over at him, watching as he focused on the game below, but there was a softness in his expression, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart swell. You leaned into him slightly, letting your shoulder brush against his. He squeezed your hand in response, a silent confirmation that he felt it too—this connection, this bond that was growing stronger by the day. Sitting there with him, surrounded by the energy of the match and the roar of the crowd, you realized just how much he appreciated you. Not as an accessory or a fleeting romance, but as someone who mattered, someone who was part of his life in a way that was real and meaningful. And in that moment, you felt something shift. You weren’t just falling for Jude—you were falling into something deeper, something that felt like it had the potential to last.

Jude had popped inside momentarily so you sat in the stands next to Denise as the game unfolded before you. The roar of the crowd, the energy in the stadium—it was exhilarating. But what truly caught you off guard was how at ease you felt with Denise by your side. Denise had been warm, welcoming, and most importantly, had said things you hadn’t realized you needed to hear.

“You know,” Denise said, her eyes fixed on the field, “Jude’s been so much happier lately. I can’t help but think it’s because of you.” She turned to you, her expression soft. “He talks about you all the time, hun. It’s been nice having you around.” Your heart fluttered, the tension you’d been carrying easing slightly. Whitney’s words from the other day had lingered in your mind, leaving you with doubts and questions. But hearing this from Denise, someone who knew Jude better than anyone, was a relief. It made everything feel more real—more possible. When the final whistle blew, Denise gave you a reassuring smile as you made your way to the box to find Jude. As soon as you saw Jude, his eyes found yours, and a grin spread across his face. He moved towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his lips brushing your temple. The connection between you was undeniable, the affection natural and easy. For a moment, you felt like everything was falling into place. But then, someone else appeared.

“Hey, Jude!” the guy called out, striding over with a casual confidence. He glanced at you, curiosity in his eyes. The man in the suite—one of the VIPs, someone who clearly knew Jude and had been chatting with him casually throughout the game—turned to Jude with a curious smile and asked, "So, who’s the lovely lady?" It felt like the whole room paused, even the noise from the crowd below dimming in your ears. Your heart raced, anticipation bubbling in your chest. It wasn’t that you expected Jude to call you his girlfriend. You weren’t naive. You knew where you stood—or at least, you thought you did. Jude hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He hadn’t thought about this—hadn’t prepared for it. And in that moment of uncertainty, he saw the flash of hurt in your eyes. But what you didn’t expect was Jude’s hesitation to continue. His pause. The way his mouth opened, but no words came out. He didn’t say your name. He didn’t offer any explanation of who you were. He was stumped, as if he didn’t know how to define you or the place you held in his life. The silence hung heavy between you, a sharp contrast to the warmth and connection you’d felt moments before. You felt your stomach drop, like someone had pulled the floor out from under you. How could you be so wrong? Just minutes ago, you thought he saw you—truly saw you. You thought he wanted you, that he appreciated you for more than just a passing moment. But now, all of that belief, all of that trust came crashing down. What you felt like doing amidst the sting of his hesitation was telling this man that you were simply the idiot who Jude uses for sex and to unload all his feelings on but apparently, not good enough for a label. Jude eventually muttered something about you being a friend. The man nodded politely and moved on, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. The moment was ruined. You sat there, stunned, the weight of disappointment pressing down on your chest like a heavy stone.

This was a test, wasn’t it? All of it had been. You’d been waiting to see if he could really step up, if he could finally give you the validation you needed after everything—the months of uncertainty, the limbo, the back and forth. The audacity he had to be jealous enough of you to sleep with someone else but the indifference to not even say your name was shocking. And while Jude had passed the first part of the test, holding your hand, letting the world see you together, he had just failed miserably at the most crucial moment. Your chest tightened, and you blinked away the stinging sensation in your eyes. You couldn’t let him see how much it hurt, but inside, you were crumbling. You knew in that instant that you were done. This was it. You couldn’t handle the limbo anymore, couldn’t live in this space where you were important one second and invisible the next. You weren’t going to be someone he couldn’t even acknowledge in public, someone he wasn’t sure how to define. The decision hit you with finality: you needed to go home. Tomorrow. You couldn’t stay another minute longer in this in-between state, where you were constantly left guessing about where you stood in his life. You deserved more than that. You needed more than that. Jude couldn’t sway you this time. You felt distant, like you were a million miles away from everything and everyone—including Jude. And as much as it hurt, you knew it was time to let go. You had been drinking and you started drinking more after that. This night was a wash anyway. It was clear that no matter how many people told you that you were good for Jude and he liked you, he didn’t want it enough. You’d traveled to Madrid to make things work and he couldn’t even get the balls to introduce you. The rest of the night was awkward and tense and for you a bit blurred. You retreated to his house, but the usual comfort between you was absent. You kept your distance, and Jude was too afraid to bridge the gap, terrified of making things worse. But in your drunken haze you wanted one last hurrah with jude. A final send off.

It's late and the air was heavy with tension between you and Jude. The pressure from earlier had been intense, leaving you with hurt feelings and unresolved emotions. But as the moonlight streamed through the windows of Jude’s room, and despite your anger and deep sadness inside you, he still looked delicious. You couldn't help but be drawn to his irresistible presence. With a deliberate move, you rolled over and face him, your eyes adjusting to the dim light. Jude, with his tall, athletic frame and tanned skin, looks like a Greek god lying there. His brown eyes flickered, meeting yours, you could see a mix of emotions playing across his handsome face. You reached out letting your fingers trace the outline of his muscular chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.  A mischievous smile played on his lips, and you knew then he was considering your temptation but he also knew he was in the dog house so there was hesitation. 

“Y/N, you’re drunk and you’re upset. Please.” His voice is deep and husky. Jude paused as he tried to hold you off from climbing over into his lap in bed. The thing was… you really weren’t that drunk anymore, not at all actually, you knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Mmm it’s fine, baby. I’m really not and I want you. You’re turning me on.” You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear before you sat back on your heels and ran your hands up his thighs. Jude groaned but then shook his head despite feeling his resolve crumble.

“I’m not doing anything.” Jude smiled at you hating that the way you were leaned over him had you tits spilling out of your tank top. You were running on the adrenaline of ending this and you wanted Jude to fuck you. 

“Mmm but you… you’re so sexy.” You continued moving your hands up over his hips onto his abs. You caught his eyes dropping to your tits. “Are my nipples hard already, Jude?” You smirked, glancing down. “Look.” You brushed your fingers over your hardened nipple before pulling your shirt completely over your head. You sat there playing innocent on full display for him.

“We really shouldn’t, yeah?” Jude hesitated again despite his hands moving to grab your hips pulling you onto his lap. He was saying one thing and doing the other. Ironic considering he’d been doing that out of the bedroom as well.  He gripped your hips, and he pulled you closer. You leaned forward and began kissing his neck.

“Pleaseee, I want your cock inside me.” You moaned rolling your bottom lip dramatically before sitting down onto him entirely. Jude could feel your warm pussy on his hardening cock now. You could feel his desire growing as your bodies pressed together. His fingers explored the curves of your body, tracing the line of your waist, then sliding up to cup your full breasts. A soft moan escapes your lips as his thumbs graze your sensitive nipples, before pinching them.

“Y/N, come on this is so unfair.” He complained. "Too fucking gorgeous to resist," he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. 

“Just give me a kiss, Jude. Please. I promise I’ll be such a good girl for you.” You moaned, picking up his hand, dragging his fingers up your body before taking two of them in your mouth. You sucked on his fingers the way you would his cock, swirling your tongue around them. 

“Fine, just one.” He smiled but he knew he was tempting fate as he leaned in to kiss you.. apparently just once but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Jesus baby.” He growled. His words ignited a fire within you, and you felt a surge of power, knowing you had this effect on him. You wanted to show him just how perfect you were, to make him remember everything, especially the pleasure you give him. You were straddling his waist, your legs on either side of his powerful thighs. The heat between your bodies palpable as you grinded against him, your wetness already leaving a slick trail on his hard length. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you closer. "You're driving me crazy." He whispered. You wanted to roll your eyes. He was in fact driving you crazy lately. You leaned down, your hair cascading around his face as you kissed him hungrily. Your tongues dancing, tasting each other, as your hands explored, caressing and teasing. You reached down, guiding his thick cock towards your entrance, teasing yourself with the tip.

"Please, Jude," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need you inside me. Make me forget everything but you." With one swift motion, he thrusted into you, filling you up completely. You gasped at the sensation, your body welcoming him as if you were made for each other. The stretch of his massive cock both intensely pleasurable but painful from the lack of foreplay. After you adjusted his cock hit all the right spots, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Jude started to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you matched his pace, riding him with abandon. His hands grip your tits, squeezing and kneading them, as he fucked you with purpose, making you feel every inch of his hardness.

"You like that, baby?" His voice raw with desire. "You like my cock pounding into your sweet pussy?" He sat up and whispered nibbling on your ear. He tucked his face in the nape of your neck. He sucked on your sensitive skin. His hair tickling you. Hoarse grunts escaping him as you soaked him. He collected enough spit in his mouth before he made you open yours. He spit his saliva into your mouth. You swallowed diligently with a moan. 

“Oh fuck, that feels so good!” You whined, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Harder, Jude. Make me feel you everywhere." He obliged, picking up the pace, his hips slamming into yours. The bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, and your moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure. You felt your orgasm building, a coiling tension deep within your core. You shut your eyes tight with your mouth agape as your tits bounced. The sight was enough to make him cum. You flashed your eyes up to look at him. The look in your eyes made Jude tense.

“Oh angel, don’t give me that face. I’m not gonna last.” He grunted out. He slapped your ass and you smirked. You moaned at the second. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you. “Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight. You want to cum for me? Let me feel you cum on my cock, baby, please.” He begged. He knew exactly what to do, what to say to get you there. "That's it, angel," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear. "Cum for me, baby. Let me feel your pussy clench around my cock."  His dirty words pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name as your body convulsed around him, your juices flowing freely, coating his shaft. He groaned, his own release building, as he continued to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure. As the waves of ecstasy subsided, you collapsed onto his chest, your heart racing. Jude's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his breathing ragged against your hair. You could feel his cock still throbbing inside you, awaiting to continue fucking you when you were ready to go but the reality was… you wouldn’t ever be again. You were ready for something Jude was about to hate.

"That was so good, baby.” You kissed his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat, whispering against his skin. His lips were back all over your neck. He smacked your ass cheek ready to go again but you ignored it. “I’m tired, Jude.” His whole body stiffened at your words, his body going completely still. 

"Y/N..." he began, but you cut him off by placing a finger on his lips.

"Shh... no more talking. Tired. Just sit with this," you said softly, as you gently rolled away from him, breaking the connection between your bodies. You curled up on your side of the bed, your back to him, knowing that Jude was being left unfulfilled, his cock still throbbing and needy, desperate for relief. You felt a pang of satisfaction knowing you've left him wanting more, but also a hint of guilt for the lingering tension between you. As you laid in bed after, the silence between you felt heavy, almost suffocating. Jude wanted to reach out, to pull you close and tell you that you were more than just a fleeting moment, more than just someone to pass the time with and maybe you could continue having sex because this was probably the worst case of blue balls he’d ever had. But the words were stuck in his throat, weighed down by the fear that maybe it was already too late. You, for your part, stared at the wall, your mind racing. You’d always been afraid of getting too close, of letting someone in. But with Jude, it had felt different—until now. Now, all you could think about was how vulnerable you’d let yourself become, and how much it would hurt if this all fell apart. Taking back some semblance of power through sex was satisfying but that feeling vanished quickly. In the quiet darkness, you laid side by side, both too scared to do anything, both too afraid of what might happen if you didn’t. As the night rolled into morning, that fear only grew, threatening to tear you apart even as you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way through this together. You began to drift off to sleep, your mind swirled with emotions, unfortunately you were dreading what was to come in the morning. Everything had been perfect, or at least it felt that way. You were sitting there, hand in hand with Jude, feeling like you’d finally found something real. The world seemed right for once—like you were falling into place with him, and for a fleeting moment, you believed it. You believed you mattered to him in the same way he had come to mean so much to you. But then it all came crashing down. 

The suitcase hit the floor with a heavy thud as you stood in the middle of the room, chest rising and falling with anger. The sun was far too bright for how dark the mood felt inside the room. You could hardly look at Jude without feeling the wave of betrayal twist inside you. You were livid, yes, but underneath all the fury was a deep, wrenching hurt that had been growing since they day he’d told you he slept with someone else. 

"You’re really leaving?" His voice cracked at the end, soft, unsure—a sound so foreign for him, but it didn’t sway you. Jude stood across from you, his face losing its color, brows furrowed in confusion and guilt, hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. 

"Yeah," you bit out, your voice edged with bitterness. "I am." For a moment, the air was filled with nothing but the echo of your words, the room stilling as the finality of it all weighed down between you. Jude’s heart pounded in his chest, a cold dread wrapping around him. He knew you were upset after last night, after his inability to introduce you, but this… this felt like too much. His thoughts were spiraling, the panic bubbling up, clawing at his throat.

"I know last night wasn’t great," he started, walking closer to you, his voice low, trying to keep it steady. "But leaving? Just like that? It feels… harsh." He could barely believe the words coming out of his own mouth, grasping at anything to keep you from walking out that door. And that’s when you snapped.

"Harsh?" you repeated, your voice shaking, eyes brimming with unshed tears. You spun around to face him, anger flashing across your face like lightning. "Harsh is being reduced to nothing in front of everyone. Harsh is you pretending like I don’t exist when it matters most." You could feel your throat tightening as the words spilled out. "Harsh is thinking I’m finally something to you, only for you to not even say my name, Jude. Not even my name." Your words were like a slap across his face. Jude froze, the shock of it hitting him like a punch to the gut. His mouth opened, but nothing came out, the weight of your anger and hurt choking him.

"That’s not—" he croaked out.

"You didn’t even look at me!" you yelled, cutting him off, your voice shaking now, the pain seeping through the cracks. "It didn’t matter if it was me, or the girl you slept with, or the one you were flirting with at the party. It’s all the same, isn’t it? We’re all interchangeable to you. Nothing special. I’m nothing special." Jude’s stomach twisted violently, his face going white as your words hit him like a freight train. His hands trembled as he raked them over his face. 

"How do… you—" His voice cracked again, barely a whisper. "How do you know about anyone at the party?" The disbelief in his voice almost made you laugh, but it was a bitter, broken sound. You wiped at the tears angrily, shaking your head. 

"Do you think I’m blind, Jude? Do you think I didn’t hear about you with her? The way you smiled at her like it meant nothing? The same way you smiled at me before we got involved. Do you even realize how much you’ve hurt me? Or are you too wrapped up in your perfect little world to notice?" Jude took a step toward you, but you recoiled, holding your hand up to stop him. 

 "I wasn’t thinking… I didn’t—" His heart was pounding in his chest, a deep pit forming in his stomach.

"Exactly, you weren’t thinking," you spat, the frustration bubbling up inside you. "You’ve never thought about me, Jude. About how I feel. I’ve given up so much to be here with you in Madrid, to support you, to be by your side, and you can’t even give me the decency of acknowledging me in public." Jude swallowed hard, his throat tight, guilt crashing down on him like a wave. He could see how hurt you were, how much pain you were carrying. His mind was racing, trying to find the words, but everything felt hollow compared to the anger and heartbreak written all over your face.

"I do care about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but you just shook your head, a sharp laugh escaping your lips.

"Do you?" you asked, your voice quieter now, the anger beginning to give way to the deep sadness that had been simmering underneath. "Because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m just here, waiting, always waiting for you to make me feel like I actually matter to you. But last night? You couldn’t even say my name, Jude. You couldn’t even call me yours." He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. His chest was tight, and he could barely breathe. He didn’t know what to say—because you were right. He had failed you in the worst way possible, and now he was standing in front of you, watching everything fall apart.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, the words so small, they felt like they’d vanish in the air. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. I—"

"You didn’t realize," you repeated, shaking your head, the hurt etched deep into your face. "Of course, you didn’t. You never have." Jude felt a sharp, deep pain in his chest as the realization of how much he had messed up hit him. His hands fell limply at his sides, helpless. 

"Please, don’t leave. Don’t go. I know I’ve hurt you, but I—" You cut him off again, shaking your head as more tears slipped down your cheeks.

"I’m tired, Jude. I’m tired of being the one who waits. I’m tired of always being on the outside looking in." Jude felt his heart break as you spoke, his entire body aching with the guilt, with the fear of losing you. He didn’t know what to do. He had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

“I’m begging you, please," he choked out, his voice cracking. "I need you. I don’t know how to fix this, but I’ll do anything. Just… don’t go." You stared at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying, and for a moment, you felt like you might give in. Like you might run into his arms and let him hold you the way you wanted him to, but then the anger bubbled up again, and you couldn’t.

"I can’t do this anymore, Jude," you said, your voice shaky but firm. "I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with being nothing to you when all I’ve done is give up everything for you." You turned, grabbing the handle of your suitcase, and Jude’s heart clenched painfully as you went to turn towards the door. He wanted to reach out, to stop you, but his feet felt rooted to the floor. You stood there, suitcase in hand, your heart pounding as Jude's words echoed in the room, cutting through the tension like a jagged knife.

"I called her your name," he said softly, his voice strained with guilt, like he was offering it as some kind of consolation, a way to make things better, to prove you weren’t nothing to him. But instead of calming the storm inside you, it ignited something far worse—a deeper, more painful rage. Your grip tightened around the handle of the suitcase, your knuckles turning white as you stared at him, disbelief flooding through you.

 "You think that makes it better?" you asked, your voice cold, the anger simmering under the surface ready to explode. "You think that fixes anything?" A whirlwind of rage and heartbreak tearing through your chest. You couldn’t believe how the night had unraveled, and now, after everything you’d been through together, this was how it was ending.

“Wait!” Jude’s voice cracked behind you, desperate and pleading. You paused, barely turning your head, your body rigid with fury, your breath coming in sharp, jagged bursts. “When I—when I slept with her…” he began, stumbling over his words, “I called her your name.” His voice trembled, the confession hanging heavy in the air between you. He said it like it was supposed to mean something, like it should somehow ease the ache in your heart. But instead, it was gasoline on a fire.

“What?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You think that’s supposed to make me feel better?” You whipped around, eyes blazing, barely able to contain the explosion brewing inside you. 

“I—no, I just—” Jude stumbled over his words, trying to catch up with the damage he didn’t realize he’d already done. “I just wanted you to know, even when I was with her, I was thinking about you.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.” He stepped forward, hands raised as if he could somehow reach you, somehow fix the irreparable.

 “I didn’t mean it like that. I was so messed up, I thought you were with someone else. I wasn’t thinking straight—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, your voice cold. “Don’t be sorry. You can sleep with whoever you want, right?” You threw the words at him, each one a bullet, sharp and cutting. “It must be so fucking hard being the Jude Bellingham and not hooking up with people when you’re this insecure.” The venom in your tone was thick, and Jude flinched, his face twisting in pain. He tried to protest, stepping forward, pleading. 

“Angel… I thought you were with him. I didn’t know what else to—” he puffed out some air defeated. 

“No, I’m not your angel anymore.” You interrupted , your voice dangerously low, as you turned fully to face him. The look on your face made him stop dead in his tracks. Something in your eyes shifted, darkening, and he knew instantly he was about to lose more than he’d ever realized. “Did she make you feel as good as I do?” Your voice trembled, but the power in your words was enough to knock the breath out of him. The question was simple, but the impact was profound. Jude froze, the weight of your question crashing into him. His eyes widened in shock and fear as he realized the gravity of what he’d done.

“God, no,” he breathed, his voice soft, like the truth was tearing him apart.

“Of course not,” you said, your voice dripping with scorn. You shook your head, a cruel, bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You threw everything away—for shitty sex—because you were too insecure to believe we had anything real.” The truth of it hit him like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The room seemed to spin around him as he watched you, standing there with a strength he suddenly realized he had never truly appreciated. You stepped closer to him, eyes burning into his, your voice steady but cold. “I hope it was worth it, Jude. I hope that fleeting moment of doubt and weakness was worth losing the one person who would’ve given you everything. Because I tried to give you everything.” You started crying, unable to stop. You had made a mistake but only because of Jude. His heart dropped to his stomach as he realized what you were saying and how much it hurt you. It wasn’t just about the mistake he made—it was about how he’d completely shattered something that could’ve been so much more. He hadn’t just messed up; he’d destroyed the only connection that had ever felt real to him. You took one last look at him, disgust and heartbreak mingling on your face. “You can keep apologizing, but it won’t change the fact that you let your insecurity ruin everything we had.” Jude had never been called insecure before and it had never been more true. And with that, you turned on your heel, leaving him standing there, drowning in the suffocating weight of his own regret. For the first time, it was glaringly obvious—emotionally and physically, no one would ever measure up to you. Jude’s face crumpled as he realized how wrong his words had been, how desperately he had miscalculated. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, telling you he’d been thinking of you would ease the pain, but all he had done was drive the knife deeper.

"I didn’t mean it like that," he stammered, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I wasn’t trying to—"

"You weren’t trying to what, Jude?" you cut him off, your voice rising, the hurt pouring out of you now like a dam had broken. "You weren’t trying to tell me that I’m just some idea to you? That I’m nothing more than a name you throw around in your head, in your bed? I mean so little to you that it doesn’t even matter who I am as long as you can imagine me there?" Jude took a step toward you again, desperation in his eyes, his hands reaching out as if he could physically stop you from leaving, from pulling further away. 

"That’s not what I meant, I swear—" He shut his eyes. 

"But that’s exactly what it is," you spat, shaking your head, tears blurring your vision. "You don’t care enough to see me. Not really. You only care about the idea of me, the version of me that you can fit into your life, your world. But you’ve never actually cared enough to sort out who I really am, to protect me, to give me something real." Your chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of all the hurt you had been holding back for so long crashing down on you. You had given him everything, opened up your life, your heart, and now it felt like all of it had been taken advantage of. Used and discarded. Jude’s face fell, his expression shifting from confusion to something much darker—guilt, pain, the realization that he had truly lost you.

"I care about you, I care about you so much," he whispered, his voice breaking, but you shook your head, stepping back as the walls started to go up. This wasn’t something you could just patch over with words anymore.

"No, Jude," you said, your voice firm, though the cracks of emotion were still there, seeping through. "You don’t. You don’t care about me, because if you did, you wouldn’t treat me like this. You wouldn’t let me be labelless, nameless. You’d fight for me. You’d see me." Jude’s breath hitched, his eyes wide as he stared at you, helpless. He could feel you slipping away, and he didn’t know how to stop it. He had never been good with feelings, with sorting through the mess of his own emotions, and now, standing here in front of you, he realized that it was too late to learn.

"You’re right," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn’t let the people around me know that I saw you the way I did but I promise I did see it. I didn’t treat you how I knew I felt. But I will now. Please… don’t go." But the damage was done. The cold, suffocating weight of betrayal had settled deep inside your chest, and no matter how hard he tried, no matter what words he said, you knew there was no coming back from this.

"I can’t," you said, your voice hollow, the finality of it hanging heavy in the air. "I can’t keep letting you do this to me. This time… this time, I’m building a wall. A steel wall. I can’t keep protecting myself with the glass you begged me to take down because you keep shattering it." You turned toward the door, your heart breaking with each step you took, but you knew you couldn’t stay. Not anymore. Not after everything. And behind you, Jude stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as the realization hit him—he had lost you. Jude stood there, heart hammering in his chest as he watched you walk out the door, the words stuck in his throat, choking him. He wanted to call out, to say something, anything to stop you. He knew exactly what he needed to say—I love you. But how could he say that now? It would’ve been selfish, unfair. You didn’t deserve his love if it was tangled up in this mess, in the pain he had caused.

So, he let you go.

As the door clicked shut behind you, the silence swallowed him whole. His fists clenched at his sides, his body vibrating with a tension that had nowhere to go. He took a step forward, and then another, until he reached the wall. His breath was shallow, ragged, his head spinning. The pressure inside him built, rising like a tidal wave, until it was too much, until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. With a guttural scream, Jude lashed out, his fist connecting with the wall, the sharp pain shooting up his arm like fire. He didn’t care. He hit it again, harder this time, the plaster cracking beneath his knuckles. The pain was grounding, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough to numb the agony in his chest, the guilt that was eating him alive. He stumbled back, his body trembling, and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold floor, his head dropping into his hands. The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, streaming down his face as he sobbed into his palms. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried, but now he couldn’t stop. He was furious—at himself, at the situation, at everything he had done to you. Jude had spent so long trying to be the person everyone expected him to be, the confident, untouchable star, the guy who always had it together. He thought he needed to prove something to Toby the other night, prove that he was still Jude. The one who didn’t get tied down, who could have anyone and never cared too much. But right now, sitting there on the floor, broken and alone, he wanted to be anything but that person.  He had lost you, and it was all his fault. He had never felt more himself than when he was with you. He had never felt more safe and authentic and he was too juvenile to grow up and do something about it. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. He had taken you for granted, dismissed your feelings, brushed off your pain. And now, you were gone. Maybe for good. He couldn’t fix it with an apology this time. Words were meaningless now, and no amount of charm or sweet talk could undo the damage he had caused.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible as it cracked with emotion, the tears still falling. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to you, to himself, or to the empty room that felt like it was closing in on him. Jude’s chest heaved with the weight of his own remorse, the crushing understanding that he had pushed away the one person who made him feel real, made him feel seen. And now, all he could do was sit there in the wreckage of what he’d destroyed, the emptiness echoing around him. All he had wanted was to be enough for you, but now he wasn’t sure he ever could be.

You furiously scrubbed over your arm where Jude’s initials once were every time you showered even though the ink of of him was long gone. It felt like Jude was burned onto your body, no solvent was strong enough. You couldn’t get him off. The tension between you and Jude had lingered long after that fateful night at the game. What had once felt so natural, so easy, had become heavy with unspoken words and unmet expectations. The awkwardness hung over you like a storm cloud, and neither of you knew how to clear the air. The silence between you was deafening. Jude wished he asked you to stay, beg you not to leave—but he knew your answer, his fear once again kept him quiet. When you walked out the door, neither of you called it a break. You weren’t officially together, so how could it be? But it felt like one. The space between you grew, not just in distance, but in the emotional chasm that had opened up. Back in your Manhattan apartment, you found yourself crying more than you’d care to admit. You were embarrassed, frustrated that you’d let yourself get so wrapped up in someone like Jude. Someone you thought might actually care about you beyond the physical. But now, all you had were memories that felt more distant with each passing day. Jude wasn’t faring much better. He would stare at his phone, your contact name glowing on the screen as his thumb hovered over it, unsure of what to say, what to do. Every time he thought about calling, he would sigh and put the phone down, the weight of his own insecurities and fears keeping him from making that leap. Even Denise noticed the change in her son. He was quieter, more withdrawn. She didn’t press him, knowing better than to force Jude to talk before he was ready. But she could see the hurt in his eyes, the way he carried himself with a heaviness that hadn’t been there before. Weeks passed in this limbo, neither of you reaching out, both of you desperate to but too afraid to be the first. Once you had left Madrid for home, everything seemed to unravel at once. You felt like this was the end for you and Jude, the silence between you made it feel like it should be. You hadn’t responded to his texts or calls. The sting of that moment in the suite still lingered, and as much as you cared for him, you couldn’t ignore the way he hesitated, like you didn’t matter. Back in Madrid, Jude was losing it. Your absence hit him harder than he expected. He tried to keep himself busy, but no amount of training or distractions could drown out the fact that you were gone, and the silence on your end was eating him alive. The uncertainty of whether you two were over gnawed at him, twisting in his gut.

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

Next part - Chapter 9 - His Angel xx

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 3: PHONE SEX

johnny mactavish x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.3k words

summary: on leave, johnny can't resist pestering you while you're at work. or perhaps he just can't resist you...

cw: f!reader, sexting, dirty talk, voyeurism(?), begging, masturbation (m & f), orgasm denial, inferred voyeurism. this one made me blush.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 4: APHRODISIACS ⇾

❝You look so good right now. I can’t actually see you, but I assume you look good because you always do.❞

A grin splits across your lips as you read the text that lights up your phone screen. It lays next to your keyboard on your desk, the lock screen a photo of you and Johnny on holiday in Spain. The sky brings out the blue in Johnny’s eyes– or what you can see of them. They’re almost crinkled shut as he laughs at you, having pushed the icecream you’d both been sharing into your face, creamy white gelato smeared across your nose. 

Peering over your desktop screen, you make sure no one in the office is looking as you pick your phone up. Donna has her eyes firmly on an excel spreadsheet that looks far more like an ancient language than it does data she can make sense of, and Peter has left his desk to make what you could only assume was his signature, watered down cups of tea that made you gag when you tried them. Before he could come back and catch you red handed, you tap your password into the phone, unlocking it to respond to the cheeky text message. 

It was odd to get a message like this now. Texts like these were usually reserved for when Johnny was on deployment, off in some God forsaken sandy wasteland where bullets would fly past his head and threaten to steal him from you. Instead, he was on leave, no doubt sitting on the sofa with his PS4 controller in hand, yelling commands to his makeshift squadron. You’d be home in a few hours – an office job wasn’t quite as long and treacherous as a place on the special forces. 

“Can’t last 7.5 hours without me? x” 

You smile to yourself as you hit send, turning your attention back to the work on your desktop before noticing how quickly the ‘ … ‘ speech bubble appears above the keyboard in your chat. It takes barely a couple of seconds before Soap replies. 

Bzz. 

“Go in the bathroom and take a picture of you touching your pretty pussy. Please? xoxo” 

It’s ridiculous, the way such a simple text sets your body alight. The warmth prickles in your stomach, settles between your thighs as you try to reason with yourself. Lunch was two hours away, and you had no doubt that Johnny would keep pestering you until you finally gave in to his pleadi–

Bzz. 

“Please? xoxoxoxox”

Chuckling to yourself, you lock your computer and stand from your desk. As casually as you can manage given you were soaking your panties, you inform Donna that you need a bathroom break. Making a note to pat yourself on the back for working so hard and earning her trust, you grin and offer a quiet thank you when she nods her head in dismissal. 

As you try to hurry to the bathroom without catching anyone’s attention, you can feel your phone buzzing in your hand. 

Bzz. 

Bzz. 

Bzz, bzz, bzz. 

Biting back a stupid grin, you ignore his pining text messages entirely and head straight for the call button, pressing your phone to your ear as you enter the single stall bathroom and lock the door behind you. 

It takes two trills of the phone before Johnny answers. You’re surprised– you expected him to hit the answer button halfway through the first. 

The first thing you hear is the sound of skin on skin, wet, sloppy sounds of Johnny working his cock in his hand as he groans your name down the receiver. 

“Fuuckkk. Yer a dirty girl, bonnie. Leavin’ yer desk to touc–” 

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny,” you breathe, malice lacking in your voice as you quickly pull the hem of your skirt up to your hips, leaning against the wall and burying your hand underneath the waistband of your panties. 

“But– Fuck– I wanna taste you,” Johnny continues pining for you, making your clit throb as you roll it beneath your fingertips with an airy sigh. Johnny sounds far more unhinged on the end of the phone, crackly audio punctuated with heavy, needy gasps of bliss and the slick sound of him fucking into his hand over and over.

“You sound so needy, Johnny,” you coo quietly, pinching your clit and feeling the warmth of your arousal trickle through your nerves when you hear Soap groan desperately. 

“Jesus– Yer bein’ so fuckin’ mean t’me,” he complains weakly, the sound of his thrusts getting louder and quicker over his slurred protests. “Feels so fuckin’ good, Bonnie. Wanna feel you ‘round me.”

Slowly burying your fingers inside your slick cunt, you whimper softly as you grind your clit into the heel of your palm. It’s not enough. Nothing is enough after having Johnny. His months away on deployment are torture, no technique or toys enough to bring the same bliss he consistently pulled from you each and every time you fell into bed together. Or the sofa, or the shower, or the kitchen counterto–

“Need you t’come home, Bonnie. Need you t’come home and sit on my face. Cannae wait all day for ye to come back home,” the timbre in Johnny’s voice is hoarse. It burns something sinful deep down in your gut, pleasure arcing with another circle of your clit. 

“What if I just left you there?” You muse quietly, careful not to be too loud incase anyone was passing by, “What if I clocked off after work and went for dinner with that guy on the payments team… What’s his name, Darren?” 

You’re grinning halfway through your teasing comment, hearing Johnny spluttering in complaint. 

“Bonnie–”

“Or… You could behave. Could wait for me to come home without interr-upting my work,” you hiccup, dangerously close to cumming when you felt the beginning of your orgasm zing up the base of your spine. You arch your hips away from your palm despite your clit’s throb of complaint, squeezing your eyes shut and bracing your voice to sound steady. “And when I come home, I’ll ride you while you play your game. You can be on mic, and Gaz and your friend’ll hear you struggle to keep it together. Hear how fucking wet I sound when you put your dick in me.” 

“Steamin’ fuckin’ Jesus–” Johnny wheezed, the sound of him fucking his hand hastening at your filthy offer. “Hah–”

“You can’t cum, though,” you urge him quickly, grinning at the sound of his desperate wail when the sounds suddenly stopped altogether. It was replaced by the sound of Johnny’s heaving breaths, quiet moans of complaint. You could imagine him now, sprawled out across the sofa, grey sweats around his ankles. He’d have his face buried in the crook of an elbow, cock flushed like his cheeks while bobbing up and down in protest and drooling precum onto his stomach. 

“Stay right there, just like that,” you breathe, excitement bubbling in your chest at the sound of his struggle, “Text Gaz and tell him to be online at 17:30.”

“Fuck,” Johnny slurs, and the sound sparks something so visceral in you that it threatens to spark an orgasm all on its own. “S’fuckin’ torture.” 

“I know, baby. I’ll make it worth it,” you promise him, ending the call before the sound of his keens made you cum. 

An hour or two later, sitting at your desk and vaguely focusing on the spreadsheets of information that were all beginning to blur together, your phone buzzes with another text. This time, a picture is attached. 

“Still here.” 

Johnny’s laying on the sofa, lips raw from gnawing on them in what you could only assume was an attempt to restrain himself. His cock is rock hard, bright red and angry with its neglect as it drools a wet pool of precum across his abs and down his shaft, exactly as you’d predicted. 

You’ve never been so excited for clocking off. 

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

how I percieve Hotchniss:

as requested by @em-prentiss

emily:

tropes: action girl, blue blood, lady in a powersuit, back from the dead, brainy brunette, dark and troubled past, honour before reason, sarcasm personified, reckless and sexy

she/her

libra sun, scorpio moon, leo rising

bisexual 

born 12th october 1970

chaotic neutral

ENFJ personality type

cat person

only child - and very much gives only child energy

red is her favourite colour

body count: "private, thank you very much!"

her favourite movie of all time is 'Carrie' - but she can't resist a good old mystery novel

has some secret skills she doesn't really talk about or use until she needs them; plays the piano, did ballet until she was 15, can horseback ride.

her favourite book of all time is 'Jane Eyre'

dog ears her books to save her pages - either that or uses literally anything as a bookmark. argues that it makes her books look 'loved'

her favourite meal is a good cheeseburger (although she'll tell you its some kind of fancy pasta)

chews her nails when she's stressed

grew up in multiple embassies across the world including: UK, Iraq, Russia, Italy, France, Greece, Spain, and Egypt.

mommy issues galore although she'd never admit it

daddy issues, too, while we're at it.

absentee father who was 'working' all the time - only 'working' meant having affairs and avoiding their home as much as possible

her parents only put on the show of a functional, happy marriage for elizabeth's career, a charade emily was also expected to play a part in. she did so until she went away to college

her dad died when she was 23

nomadic lifestyle all her life due to her mom's job - finds it hard to settle down as a result

has a little box of mementos from each of the places she's lived, trinkets that would be of no value to anyone else but mean a lot to her

has a few small, discreet tattoos

multi-lingual but not a show off about it - sometimes dreams in italian

is also multilingual in sarcasm and often uses it to diffuse tense situations.

had an abortion when she was 15 - doesn't regret it but has always wondered. marks the day each year, even if it's just with a prayer. it's the only time she prays

✨️ religious trauma ✨️ 

rebelled against her mother as a teenager and their relationship has never really recovered

spoilt, privileged lifestyle 

likes her luxuries as a result and doesn't shy away from them 

never had too many close friends growing up - due to the moving around a lot

bit of a wild girl at college, there's not really a sexual position or an illegal substance she hasn't tried at least once (except the ones you inject, she's not insane)

still sneaks the occasional cigarette

cannot abide by any rule she considers arbitrary

loves a good horror movie, the gorier the better but the supernatural ones freak her out

has a secret passion for classical music when she’s stressed - particularly beethoven and bach

emily has a love for fine wine and is something of an amateur connoisseur, able to tell the difference between a good vintage and a cheap bottle. she and rossi bond over this.

her passion for coffee, however, is much more lax and she can drink even the roughest of instant crap. 

can also whip up a mean martini

she’s a cat person but never had a pet growing up due to all the moving around.

emily’s guilty pleasure is reality TV—she finds it oddly comforting and a way to unwind from the seriousness of her day-to-day life.

often doodles when she's on the phone—her notebooks are full of random sketches.

loves an indoor plant but finds it incredibly difficult to keep them alive

fucking loves technology and is slightly addicted to TikTok. has to limit her own screen time.

speaking of TikTok, she's totally on BookTok and loved the ACOTAR series.

loves spicy foods - often challenges herself to try the hottest dish on the menu.

bit of an adrenaline junkie, whether in her home or professional life. overly impulsive sometimes as a result

what she wears:

aaron:

tropes: badass in a nice suit, stoic leader, chronic hero syndrome, highest kill count, death glare, grumpy to her sunshine, deadpan snarker

he/him

scorpio sun, taurus moon, virgo rising

heterosexual

born 2nd november 1965

lawful good

ISTJ personality type

dog person

bodycount: 2

favourite colour is navy blue

eldest son, his brother, sean, is 11 years younger than him

his favourite book is 'one hundred years of solitude'

prioritizes his fitness and likes to take on fitness challenges to keep himself healthy

lonely childhood even though he had a little brother

abusive, drunk for a father

emotionally absent mother who was trying to deal with her own trauma

his mom died when he was 25

his dad is still alive out there somewhere but they're not in contact, and aaron has no intention of being

had to be the strong one for his little brother

comes from a pretty poor background, has built himself up to be and have everything he is and has 

always felt like more of a father than a brother to Sean because of their age gap, and the fact that he practically raised him

loves to go camping and be in the wilderness

a morning person - likes to get up and out of the house as early as possible

a very neat person - you'd be forgiven for thinking he was in the military (he never was) by the way he makes his bed and stacks his clothes

collected coins as a kid, something he never grew out of. has a very well organised collection he values greatly

keeps his books neat and tidy - always uses a bookmark

loves an old western, likes an action movie, horrors make him uncomfy and he's a secret sucker for a rom-com

reluctant green thumb and often ends up taking care of the plants that emily brings home and gives up on or gets distracted from

has a soft spot for old-school jazz and sometimes listens to it when he needs to decompress.

he's a surprisingly good cook, which is a skill he honed while having to take care of his brother, although the recipes were a lot more basic back then

still has his parents wedding rings, a fact about himself that he wrestles with since he doubts they were ever in love

prefers handwritten notes to digital reminders, is a very tactile person. never really fell in love with his phone.

hums softly when he's concentrating, a habit he's more often than not completely unaware of, and emily finds it adorable

keeps a stash of chocolate in his drawer in the office - stocks it with emily's favourites

wears his grandfather's class ring. it's the only family heirloom he has, and sometimes he feels guilty for not giving it to sean

has a collection of old vinyls from the 70s

visits the same diner every saturday for breakfast. after getting together with emily, the visits become less frequent but they still go now and then. aaron says they have the best eggs. emily thinks they're just ok, but she likes to see him happy

aaron isn't a big drinker; he'll have a few beers on a night out, or a whiskey after work occasionally, but he very rarely engages in any binge drinking. emily's only seen him really drunk a handful of times throughout their relationship.

he is, however, partial to the occasional cigar and although emily sneaks her own cigarette now and then, she can't stand the smell of them.

what he wears:

Hotchniss:

the only time hotch is not a morning person is when emily is in his bed, then he never wants to leave the comfort of the covers and the warmth of her body

hotch will watch a horror movie with emily with a straight face, but hate it the whole way through. emily will pretend to be into his action movies, and doesn't let him know she's actually bored out of her mind. their middle ground is a good western or a rom-com.

their first big fight is over a clash between their idea of 'tidy' - emily is laid back, doesn't mind a bit of clutter. aaron is...borderline ocd. they fall out over her having left a towel on the floor...again.

they are very well matched at chess, and often their games can go on for weeks in between cases and life. currently emily is winning by two games.

aaron would rather to repairs around the house himself, where as emily is used to throwing money at a problem and making it go away. they try to compromise but they're away so often for work that more often than not, emily wins because aaron just doesn't have the time, but when he does take on a project he loves the manual labour, and emily loves to sit back and watch x

it was his dream to restore a classical care so emily bought him one for his 50th birthday and its his pride and joy. he painted it red just for her

emily reads before bed and aaron does the crossword, with his glasses perched on the end of his nose and emily thinks it's the cutest thing.

emily's love of spicy foods means that more often than not aaron has to resign himself to buying her two meals when the spiciest dish on the menu is just 'a little too spicy' - he doesn't mind, really

they're both incredibly competitive. emily gets sweary and loud when she's in competition, aaron gets smug and smirky and that drives emily up the wall. their second biggest fight, ever, was over a game of monopoly. it's been banned in their household ever since.

emily takes aaron to a ranch for one of his birthdays - to celebrate his love for an old western, and because she thinks he'll love it! turns out aaron hotchner is terrified of horses. emily spent the first day riding and trying to convince him to do the same, and after that they just enjoyed the views and each other's company, and the horses, but from afar.

emily often teases hotch about his love for organization and can’t resist occasionally hiding a few items just to see his reaction. he pretends to be frustrated but secretly finds her antics adorable.

surprisingly, when they go on vacation, it's emily who wants their days planned down to the moment so that they don't miss anything, and aaron who just - finally- wants to relax and 'go with the flow'. emily finds this version of her husband disconcerting.

emily loves to surprise hotch with impromptu weekend getaways. he pretends to grumble about the lack of planning and the expense of it all but secretly enjoys the surprises and the thought she puts into them.

financially, aaron and emily grew up in two very different places. aaron watched his mother scrimp and save every penny to try and provide for him and sean, when she was lucid. when she wasn't, he had to figure it out himself. he's worked since the age of 14. emily had everything in life given to her on a silver platter and, even now, occasionally spends out of her trust fund. aaron gets frustrated by spending that he sees as frivolous and emily has to remind him that they're well off - she still has her trust fund, even if neither of them were working. it's infrequently a source of contention between them, though.

they dated before emily's 'death', before paris. he visited her in paris, where their flame sparked again but when she came back to the team nothing happened. then beth happened. then emily left again.

they stayed in contact while she was in london and eventually realised they were miserable without each other. emily moves back to the states, returns to the BAU and they get back together.

they marry that same year. it's a really small ceremony, attended only by the team, jack and sean. neither of their surviving parents are invited.

they started a two-person book club where they choose a book to read each month and discuss it over dinner. they always donate one copy - whether to charity or a friend. sometimes both if they agree that the book sucked.

they create the 'hotchner cup' which is a trophy that they play for every family game night. it's an old, tarnished badge of hotch's with 'Hotchner' written across it super-glued to an old ballet trophy of emily's. it's currently in emily's possession...due to the chess situation.

emily's a cat person and hotch loves dogs. as a compromise, they have one of each.

when emily has their kids, they share the position of Unit Chief at the BAU and alternate shifts, so someone's always at home with the kids. it's their one rule; the kids never get left alone.

they have three kids together, ava, livvy and alex. jack is aaron's son from his previous marriage to haley, and emily loves him like her own.

they share a home office and walking into it is hysterical; there are two desks and it's immediately obvious whose is whose because aaron's is meticulously organised and emily's is a mess.

aaron always dreads his weeks 'on' at work, because he knows he's going into his desk being an absolute mess. emily is the same because she says whenever he cleans up, he puts her stuff away and she can't find anything. she prefers her 'organised chaos'.

even though emily is a luxury resort kind of girl, aaron forces the family to take an annual camping trip. every year, emily complains about it; alex and ava follow her suit. jack and livvy love the camping trip like their father. even though emily and the kids complain, they also secretly love it.

they take an annual family photo during every camping trip

every year they all celebrate haley's birthday together with a special meal; homemade lasagne followed by apple pie and ice cream, both favourites of haley.

when it comes to parenting, there's no doubt who's the strict parent. emily definitely takes a more relaxed approach than her husband.

however, when it comes to bullying or the kids being in danger, emily has to be kept in check. more than once she's threatened to pull her badge on a kid - or parent - at school. more than once, she's had to be talked down by her husband, and sometimes the kids.

when aaron eventually retires early, he takes up teaching at the academy. they still have lunch together most days.

after aaron retires, emily takes on the role of unit chief by herself and eventually progresses to section chief, which is more of a bureaucratic role than she ever imagined for herself, but it means she gets home to her family every night.

Hotchniss tropes:

grumpy x sunshine rich girl x poor boy he's her boss mutual pining will they/won't they jealousy trope friends to lovers 'touch her and you die'

Photos Aaron takes of Emily:

Photos Emily takes of Aaron:

Joint camera roll:

How Hotchniss text:

Hotchniss playlist:

[libraryofloveletters]

Chapter One: United Front

Jenson Button x Teammate!Fem!Reader

Warnings: new teams, friendships are being built and brought down at the same time, jenson is a bit unsure how to feel now that the spotlight isn't on him, jealously, championship fights are coming from inside the house, so many feelings, the basis of the story is being built here, the initial sweetness wears off.

Word Count: 2,520

Author's Note: welcome to the new series! I promise I will try to be consistent, I'm excited to see what's in store.

Bound By Fate Masterlist

--

Young and naive; the headline that covered all the front pages from the moment you stepped foot on track.

You, y/n l/n, were all but 22 years old when you had your Formula One debut. Mclaren had been good to you, Ron was more than happy to have you on the team - young, fresh talent, no one does it like you.

The first year had been painstakingly hard, it was a big jump from test driving. A fuck up on a closed track doesn't have a much of an impact as one on a full, live track with thousands of people watching. It took you a few tries - Australia, Malaysia, China, Bahrain and Spain before you found yourself in sunny Monaco.

Your first points, your first podium finish. It was insane to think you managed to get your first points and podium on the same day.

That was the day you knew you were doing what you were supposed to be doing. That you did deserve your spot there and you were going to do everything in your power to prove to everyone that you were worthy of it.

You proved your worth, despite getting a late start on your point scoring, you managed to rack up 73 points over the course of the season. By the end of it, you were all but 4 points short of the championship podium. Speaking of championships, you remember the day as if it was yesterday.

The rain brought a sense of excitement with a tiny bit of fear. You and Lewis were starting P6 and P7 and the current championship contender, Jenson Button was in P12. All he needed to do was score 5 points, needing to move up from P12 to P4. He didn't do it coming in one place short but still winning the championship by a landslide, washing Sebastian and his own teammate, Rubens, out.

When the news broke that Jenson would be moving to Mclaren, you felt every emotion possible; happy, sad, nervous, scared, calm.

You had no idea what you were in for, unsure if you two were going to get along or if he'd be an arrogant stuck up prick. Up until that point, you had very minimal contact with Jenson. A hi and hello in passing, a chat at press conferences; you weren't part of the inside jokes or the hang outs, you were there to race and that was that.

It took only the pre season and before you knew it, the two of you clicked like the last two pieces of a puzzle.

"When your drivers get along, it's easier to work, to fight for wins, for championships." Jenson read the quote from Ron, a bass added to his voice as he paced the length of your hotel room. The two of you had returned from dinner not too long ago; a post podium tradition you've built in a short time.

"He'd be pissed if he heard you," you tell him, sitting cross legged on the bed. Jenson shrugs, tossing the newspaper he picked up from the lobby onto the nightstand, flopping down next to you.

"Oh well," Jenson tells you, looking over at you. "Good job today, I don't think I told you."

You two had come in P1 and P2, Jenson taking second place as he's done the last 3 races.

"Yeah, thanks." You smiled, "you did well too."

The two of you had been in contention for the championship all season, fighting for P1 and P2 back to back all season. This was your second season as teammates and you were having a better run than the first time. The first season, you were close, right behind Sebastian and Mark; you in P4 and Jenson in P3.

It was a year of dominance for McLaren, for you and for Jenson.

Despite what the reporters were predicting, you and Jenson were as close as always, nothing but 4 single points separating the two of you.

4 points was all that separated the two McLaren drivers going into the summer break, you in P1 and Jenson in P2. You had one more race before the break, a chance for Jenson to push himself into the first place spot for the break.

You weren't giving in.

Friends or not, you had cemented yourself in the P1. You belonged there, you worked too hard to let it go. You'd do anything to make sure you stayed there, playing dirty if need be.

--

You and Jenson find yourself sitting apart from each other, Sebastian and Fernando between the two of you. There's a sea of reporters in front of the 4 of you; the 4 drivers in the first 4 slots of the championship.

All but a few points keeping all of you apart, it really was anyone's game at this point.

The first reporter speaks, starting the questioning. "Jenson, as we head into the summer break, do you feel confident that you can secure those 4 points and ultimately beat your teammate in the standings?"

Jenson chuckles, glancing over at you. "It's possible, 4 points isn't a lot but knowing y/n, she's going to put up one hell of a fight."

You smiled at his response, nodding. Sebastian chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder. He knew you just as well as Jenson did, the two of you have had it out on track. You gave it your all every race, you didn't have anything to lose.

The same reporter added another question but directed to you now. "Y/N, with the upcoming race this weekend, do you plan to give Jenson a bit of a break and let him secure those 4 points, or will you be pushing hard to keep your position ahead of him?"

You picked up the mic, "why should I give him a break? I know we're teammates but we're not fighting for the good of the team, we're both in contention as of right now. Both Jenson and myself are here to win, a win is a win. I know Jenson wouldn't give me a break, so I'm not planning on giving him one."

The reporters seem to be eating up the answers from both you and Jenson, the spotlights were on you two. There's a few more questions being asked.

You and Jenson are the picture of perfect teammates, or at least, that's what you want everyone to believe. On the surface, you're both laughing, exchanging inside jokes, and giving off all the right signals of camaraderie. But beneath the surface, something's shifting; something neither of them seems to notice yet.

Small moments linger too long, words are said with just a touch more edge, and there's a tension in the air that no one can quite put a finger on. The rest of the room feels it, though, the subtle cracks beginning to show, the invisible divide growing wider with each passing moment.

It’s only a matter of time before it all comes to a head, and when it does, no one will be able to pretend it was ever fine.

Dismissed from the press conference, you find yourself prepping for the race, going  through your usual routine. You get dressed, pull your hair back into a braid and you get yourself hyped for the race and always, you wait for Jenson, the two of you heading to the grid together.

P3 for you and P2 for Jenson. Sebastian was on pole with Fernando in P4 along with the rest of the cars lined up behind you.

It was windy and grey, you looked up at the sky, trying to see if the rain would come down. Your engineer, Mac, tells you not to worry about the weather. If need be, you'll pull in and switch to wets.

You didn't like this.

There’s a gnawing feeling in the back of your mind, your stomach twisted in on itself. A sense that something’s off, but you can’t put your finger on it. Everything looks fine on the surface, but there's something about the way the air feels thick.

You can’t shake the sense that something is about to go wrong. You just don’t know what or how.

It’s like waiting for a storm you know is coming but can’t quite see. The feeling lingers, heavy, and all you can do is wait for the shoe to drop, knowing it’s only a matter of time.

You look up at the sky once more, the grey clouds rolling in over the Hungaroring, you can't help the unsettling feeling that's creeping up on you.

There's a hand on your shoulder, bringing you back to the present. Jenson stood in front of you with a cheeky smile, "taken up bird watching, y/n?" He asks.

"Shut up," you huffed, smiling at him with your arms folded over your chest. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good luck." You smiled and Jenson returned the smile. "Yeah, you too."

You put your helmet on, getting into the car. Last minute checks to make sure comms were working and everything was in order. You go over weather changes and the plan with Mac once more before he pats your head, giving your shoulder a squeeze and the grid clears off.

You couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. One last look up at the grey clouds, the fans standing around with umbrellas and ponchos in case of the rain. Your focus on the lights ahead.

3..

2..

1..

Lights out.

It’s been a tough race, the kind that keeps you on the edge of your seat. The three of you, fighting tooth and nail for P1, constantly swapping positions. Every lap felt like a high-speed chase between you, Jenson, and Sebastian. You had the advantage at some points, then Jenson would slip past, and Sebastian was always lurking, waiting for any opening.

The intensity of it was like nothing else, the tension thick with every corner.

Just as the race was reaching its peak, the skies darkened. What had been a perfect, dry track quickly turned into an unpredictable nightmare.

The rain began to fall, light at first, then harder, turning the surface into a slip and slide. Drivers were forced to change, and the pace slowed dramatically. Every move became a calculated risk, and tire management was now as crucial as ever.

With the rain coming down harder, the decision was made: time to pit for wets. The pit crews were ready, and as you peeled off into the pit lane, the world outside seemed to blur. Tires were changed quickly, but it was a crucial moment, getting it wrong could cost you.

When you rejoined, the race was no longer about who was fastest, but who could keep their cool as conditions got difficult.

In the end, it was Sebastian who managed to hold on, keeping P1 until the checkered flag waved. You pushed hard for that last minute move, and came in just behind him to secure P2. Jenson held his ground, taking P3, making it a tight top three right to the finish.

Despite not getting the win today, the results put you in a good spot.

With that P2 finish, you still managed to maintain your lead in the championship standings, staying ahead of Jenson and Sebastian as the midseason break rolled in.

It’s a small gap, but it’s enough.

You head into the break in P1, with the knowledge that you’ve got what it takes to hold onto the top spot. The competition is strong, but the battle is far from over. Every point counts, and you’ve just set the stage for what promises to be a hectic and messy second half of the season.

You all stand together for the photos at the top of the podium, the bright flashes of cameras filling the air. There’s something different about Jenson.

You can feel it, a subtle coldness coming from him, a distance that wasn’t there before. As you glance his way, you catch his eye for a split second, but instead of him acknowledging it, he quickly turns to speak to Sebastian, his attention fully on the German.

The moment is brief, but it leaves a strange feeling lingering.

You tell yourself it’s probably nothing, just the exhaustion from such an intense race. Emotions run high after a race like that, and maybe the tension is just getting to everyone. You try to brush it off, chalking it up to the pressure of the day, the fatigue that comes with giving it everything on track. But even as the photos continue and the celebrations roll on, you can’t help but wonder if something's changed.

The 3 of you together for a photo, covered in confetti, champagne and rain, there are smiles on your faces, your arm around Seb, bottle of champagne in your free hand. Jenson's focus is on Sebastian, he doesn't even so much as look at you.

After the podium, you head straight to the press pen, where interviews are lined up and the usual buzz of reporters fills the air. You and Jenson are across from each other, each doing separate interviews, the distance between you both oddly noticeable now, the tension from before the race smothering everyone in its vicinity.

The reporter in front of you smiles and asks, “How’s everything going? How are you feeling after today’s race?”

You nod, trying to keep things positive, even if there's a strange weight hanging in the air. "I’m good," you say, smiling. "Happy with the points, happy for the team. A double podium is a good result, and we’ll take it."

Meanwhile across the pen, Jenson’s interview seems to take a different turn. When Jenson was asked about his race, he didn't hold back.

“I wish I’d been P1," he says bluntly. "But I’m focused on the bigger picture. The championship is what matters. What other drivers get in the standings? Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

The reporters picking up on the contrast, turn back to him. “Y/N had some nice things to say about your drive today," one of them says.

Jenson barely looks up, his response flat. "I’m sure she did," he mutters, brushing it off without a second thought.

It’s a small moment, but the tension in the air is palpable. Everyone in the room feels it, the growing divide between you and Jenson.

Somehow, you’re the only one who doesn’t see it. For you, it’s just another race, another round of interviews. The contrast between the two of you couldn’t be more apparent.

You, still smiling, still positive, unaware of the ice that’s slowly creeping into Jenson’s tone. You had no idea what was brewing just beneath the surface. You hadn’t picked up on the subtle shift; the small moments when Jenson used to smile at your jokes, the times he’d offer advice after races, the camaraderie you thought you shared.

Now, it was like you were looking at a stranger.

But it’s clear to everyone else that something’s shifting, and the cracks are starting to show.

---

taglist: @67-angelofthelordme-67 @clementinesjuice @tazskylarstonguepiercing @amelielazozo @percervall @elissa-shelby @that-aesthetic-chic @vi0letblu3s @reiofsuns2001 @23victoria @sebvettelsgirl @Briannash-worlds @Darkomiomi @ru-kru @Myescapefromthislife @mehrmonga @dear-fifi @steamy-smokey @aishisorbet12 @feelslikealbon @kimiracing07

see the masterlist to add yourself to the taglist!

[featguler]

baby steps, baby ────── a late night conversation in his car. threading on a whole new thing with kylian.

♡ ────── pairing : kylian mbappé x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. reader lives in an apartment in paris and is a normal person. reader is somewhat insecure and is filled with doubts abt their relationship. ♡ ────── wordcount : 710 ♡ ────── notes : seems like i'm just writing whatever the fuck i want. send in req's pls ♡ masterlist.

You choose not to ask Kylian if he had ever felt the way you are feeling before.

Why would you?

His past relationships are none of your business, the previous pairs of lips he’d kissed are none of your business, and the beds he chose to spend his nights on before yours are none of your business either.

He opens the door to your side of the car, he orders your food for you, and asks if you would like to share a dessert to hide his own eagerness. He is endearing, and the right now you have is enough.

It’s silly to obsess over did-not-happen-yet scenarios. Your brain, though, cannot help but string you along.

As he drives down the road leading to your arrondissement, on your third night out after an awkward confession in your apartment, Kylian talks about how he has to fly soon to Germany. He talks about how they—whoever they are—have begun integrating group games and activities into practice, and he talks about how keeping a team cemented requires more HR work than anything else.

It still feels out of your mind that you are dating Kylian Mbappé—superstar footballer, conceited on field and humble off it. Grace lace his strides and half the world wants him. Or maybe not. You’re not sure. That’s what it feels like, though.

You wouldn’t imagine that you’d be sharing a drink together a few months back, moreover a car ride, moreover a night out, moreover a kiss.

“...come with me?”

You noticed that you were dozing off the conversation, preoccupied with Paris’ night light just outside your seat window.

“To Germany?” You ask, trying to gauge the context of the conversation from what you remember. “Me?”

He laughs a hearty laugh, glancing over at you as quick as he looks back to the road.

“Yeah,” his grin is illuminated by the occasional streetlights—you recognize the quirk of his eyebrow as the sign of an incoming jest. “Watch me play, beat the whole tournament in one game.”

You laugh along with him. “I’ve watched you plenty, Kylian.”

“Not outside France,” he retorts before stopping for a quick second. “And not outside Paris.”

“Well,” you hesitate, “I’ve got a job and all, you know? Can’t exactly drop everything and leave for Germany.”

You watch the fist around his steering wheel tighten, his lips pursing after yet another one of your rejection. He’d always asked you to come to his games—begged you, even. Far before you had recognized the intention behind his invites, he’d send texts asking if he should save a ticket. It would be a game in Spain or Germany, always somewhere far-off, and always on a working day.

You would think that he had gotten used to the disappointment, but you try putting yourself in his position, and imagine how he would feel. It’s probably different from the hurt you feel every time he has to leave you for long, but you try matching it.

“But anyway,” you speak, hoping to distract the sudden tense atmosphere invading the car. “How do you win a tournament with just one game?”

“You never know,” you hear the light returning to his words. “If I score 20 points in the first 30 minutes, maybe they’d change the rules.”

“I’d change the rules,” you counter. “For you.”

You turn to watch the road ahead, but from the corner of your eyes, you see a quirk of his lips, and then a quirk of his eyebrows.

“That’s sweet,” he reaches over to touch the hands folded on your lap, grabbing one in his. “But it would be boring if all the rules were altered to fit me.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, flipping your hand to return his hold. “You gotta take it one game at a time, one goal at a time.”

“Uh-huh,” he nods. “Baby steps. I’ll get there in due time.”

He pulls your hand over, pressing a kiss on top of your knuckles. This right now feels too good to be true—if it were you and him against the world, it seems like it wouldn’t be as scary as all of the imagined scenarios in your head.

“Baby steps, baby.” You look at him and cannot hold back the smile, “Baby steps.”

[bunny-jpeg]

This is my first time ever submitting an ask on tumblr but i didnt realize u also wrote for Fernando !!! i have kinda a big order tho so mb ToT. can i please get persian roll and swiss roll with a side of naked and famous and champagne? served Fernando Alonso :))

bakery menu!!

want to submit your order? hit up the menu! there are many things on the menu and i would love to see what you come up with! these orders have been so fun to do, so thank you to everyone who has submitted them! <3 (also don't worry about it being a bigger order, i love doing this as well!!)

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." + swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you." + naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader + champagne: sugar daddy situation served by fernando alonso (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, bimbo/ditzy!reader, mean!fernando, age gap (20s/40s), dirty talk & degrading language, fingering, doggy style, rough sex, orgasm denial

"daddy!" you chirped as you came through the front door of fernando's large house in spain. your heels clicked against the tiled floor and you did a full turn to find him, "daddy! where are you!" you perked up when you saw him emerge from the kitchen. he was drying his hands on a dish towel.

his smile dropped when he saw the bags in your hand. the names on them were expensive. he grew a little curious, "how did you pay for those, princess?" he asked you with his eyebrows raised. you didn't have a job, you hadn't had one for almost two years. and with the amount the appeared to be in those bags, your allowance didn't pay for that either.

you dipped your head a little and said, "i don't know daddy." and softly put the bags down and clasped your hands behind your back. your glossed bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

dumb little girl. stupid, idiotic little girl. you wouldn't learn your lesson until your ass cheeks were bruised till they were purple and you were wearing the collar that fernando bought for you when you misbehaved. there was a little weight to the item to remind you who you belonged to.

he groped your ass while you laid out on his lap. your ass was properly bruised as you whined against him. you were a pretty, whorish display for him. his grip was tight as he said, "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

you moved a little, 'daddy, please." you wanted to bury your head under the covers. to hear his rough voice in your head left you heated all over. he could so easily get under your skin, he could push and pull you into any position he needed you in. that was the power of a sugar daddy in that kind of arrangement. fernando, regardless, held over power over you. and it always made you pant heavily in a heated passion that made your cunt clench around him.

he liked you like this, submissive against him. while he'd give you the world, there were rules you had to follow. he touched your ass a little more as he said, "i know you cannot think, princess. there are so thoughts in that head of yours. but, what did i say about not taking daddy's credit card? you have to behave, angel."

you squirmed a little, "i'm sorry, daddy." you tried to pull away from him, but you weren't getting far. you clung to the sheets under you, your ass was a whorish display. he sank his fingers inside of you for a moment and you moaned loudly, "daddy i'm sorry!!!" and arched your back slightly, which fernando liked quite a bit.

"i bet you are." he said. his fingers felt so good in you as he rubbed against some of your more sensitive areas which made your toes curl, "but i know you'll do it again. because you are a bad girl, always a bad girl for me." his voice was low and it made you squirm a little more.

your cunt took his digits so well, your back arched so pretty and fernando continued to finger fuck you. he just kept you on the edge of orgasm, not helping you got over the hill with it. he teased you and you whined as you tried to get some friction from his rough jeans.

"no. no, princess. it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." he said as he refused to let you orgasm, this was all part of the punishment. it didn't take long before you ended up off of his fingers and on your face in the pillows with our hips in the air. you pretty pussy on display for him.

fernando got his clothes off and ended back on the bed with you. he licked his fingers clean of your wetness before he got up behind you on the bed. his cock was at full attention and the head was leaky with pre-cum. he wanted you, he wanted you badly. even when you misbehaved and caused him headaches. he wanted to finish inside that pretty cunt and bully his cum as deep as he could get you.

when he got himself inside of you, your back was arched and you clung to the pillows. your noises got loud and pathetic. you tried to beg, "i'm sorry, daddy" and hiked your hips up a little further.

"i know you are. i know you want me to forgive your little incident. but i think i may have grown too soft with you, angel. being too nice.' he said as he rutted against you. he could feel the flash of heat in his body, he pushed your head into the pillows and picked up the pace. he bullied your sweet cunt and your noises were greatly muffled, "you've become a spoiled little slut. you enjoy getting into trouble." he moved against you harder and you were moaning loudly.

"please, daddy." your back arched more as you yearned for him greatly. he just thought you were to die for, beyond beautiful laid out under him. if he flashed enough bills in your face or slipped you his credit card, you'd happily do anything he asked. he had you bound in a way that there was little to escape from him.

he continued to fuck you with a feverish pace and was spurred on by your hot and heavy moans. he watched you whine and claw at the covers like a wild animal. you were insatiable at times. you yearned for cock deeply and who was fernando to deny you that. but he was going to deny you the sweet release you craved.

only good girls got to cum.

he pace was brutal and you felt the rush of pleasure through you. you panted wildly and felt the inferno of lust in you. you were fernando alonso's stupid little princess and you wore that title with pride. you were proud to be his, even if you had bubblegum for a brain. but that was alright, that was what fernando was there for. to make sure his angel was cared for.

"are you not going to take my credit card anymore? you're going to be a good girl for me? not cause me problems? i'd hate to have to leash you. keep you close to me so you don't cause problems." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

you shook your head against the pillows, "no daddy, i'm sorry daddy." your voice was strained as you felt close to your climax. but fernando finished before you, he shoved his entire length into your sweet cunt and made you toes curl at the feeling.

"that's what i like to here, angel. you sound so pretty when you beg for me. maybe you do have it in you to be a good girl for me." his thrusts were rough and it made your heart feel in your throat. he fucked you with a fury that left you feel even dumber.

"daddy."

with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. marking your pretty little pussy. he loved when he shoved it in as deep as it would go. leave a little reminder of him in you. he groaned harshly, "so pretty under me. such a little fucking whore." his words were biting and it only turned you on more. but before you could finish. he pulled out and pinched your clit. "no." and you whined more.

"daddy!" your voice was tight.

you whined and fernando said, "if you want to finish, you for once have to work for it. now get up on daddy's thigh." <3

[rinniessance]

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE ༊*·˚ - leon kennedy x fem!reader x satoru gojo

leon kennedy has been announced mia after 24 hours of no contact. high brass doesn't care that you only came back from a mission a day prior, injured no less. when you're dispatched to spain, the last thing you expect is to get a special kind of rescue mission.

this is my entry for @rinhaler's gaming collab - MASTERLIST 🎮

꒰ warnings: nsfw - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ resident evil au. kind of following the plot of resident evil 4. aphrodysiac sex, unprotected sex, pet names (it's my staple <3), oral sex (f receiving), slight dacraphyllia, squirting, two dicks in one hole, cream pie. forgive me if i forgot any tags ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.8k ꒱ ꒰ notes: we love pure self-indulgence in this house .ᐟ.ᐟ tagging @mymegumi and @lilacliliess because they support my delusions about fucking two blue eyed men:3 ꒱

it’s been uneasy 24 hours in the D.O.S headquarters – ever since leon kennedy stopped responding to any attempts at communication, he’s been announced MIA this morning. given the sensitive mission of retrieving president’s daughter, the urgency to dispatch someone for another rescue is being pushed by the high brass, sending everyone on a search to find an agent capable enough of handling the job. as it turns out, out of dozens of people working in this forsaken organization, you’re the only one qualified.

“are you shitting me, hunnigan? i just came back from the mission last night. did you not see the stabbing wound?” for dramatic effect, you raise your t-shirt, showing freshly bandaged area where the deep cut resides. coming into the work this morning, the most stressful part of your day was expected to be the tons of paperwork you would’ve had to go through – yet as soon as you stepped into your office, you were greeted by leon’s handler, bearing the news from your superiors.

“sorry, you know it’s not up to me. whatever the president says goes.”

“are there literally no one else in this entire building who can be ordered to go instead?”

slumping over your desk, you put your head on top of your folded arms – it takes everything in you not to scream. your own mission was already problematic enough: bioweapon developers have become exceptional in making new B.O.Ws deadlier and deadlier, and knowing leon’s resume, there is a very high chance he was sent to deal with the worst of it.

“you’re one of the few partners kennedy has had while working for D.O.S. you know how he operates; it makes sense they are sending you.”

you know there is no point in arguing – if it’s been decided by the president, you have no choice but to go. it doesn’t mean, however, you can’t be irritated by the whole situation.

“do i at least get paid overtime?” you sign with exasperation, sulking deeper into your chair, hearing hunnigan let out a breathy chuckle.

“maybe if you bring golden boy’s ass back in one piece.”

“great. can i at least go home and make sure i didn’t leave the kettle on or something.”

“you’re not getting out of it, agent,” she says with a smile, and you can only groan. leon will be paying for all your meals for the next 6 months. “the helicopter is already waiting, actually, so you better gear your ass up and head to the helipad.”

“more amazing news.”

hunnigan only pats you on the shoulder – nothing she can say will make this situation suck any less – and leaves the room, letting you wallow in your misery.

“can you just fucking die already?” you yell in pure annoyance, trying to shoot the same person for the third time (you aren’t sure you can call these things human anymore). when the creature finally goes down, hopefully once and for all this time, the view in front of you is grotesque: hideous tentacle sprang out of the poor man’s head when you shot him between the eyes; it keeps moving, taunting you to waste more of your ammo. still holding onto your gun, you cautiously approach the body, slightly poking it with your boot – it doesn’t stir anymore. a sigh of relief escapes your lungs.

“just what the fuck is going on here,” you quietly mumble to yourself, looting any useful items nearby.

you arrived in spain this morning. surprisingly, leon made it easy enough to retrace his steps – he stopped by the local law enforcement which in turned let you know two of their men also went missing after they escorted kennedy to the area of interest. no one volunteered to come with you once you acquired the location of the small village somewhere north of here – apparently people have been going missing in the mountains for a while now – which was fine by you. everything you needed was the car you could use, and you were on your merry way.

in your 5 year long career as a government agent, the kind working in anti-bioweapon divisions, you’ve seen a multitude of… monsters, for lack of a better word. nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’ve witnessed when you arrived at your destination though: villagers turned into something sinister, creatures with no will of their own. you noticed it right away: their bulging veins pulsing with black viscous liquid, eyes shadowed with madness. what a surprise it was that when you finally started shooting them (hey, they started it), mandible-like limbs, shape closer to tentacles, with eyes growing out of them, erupted from their dead bodies, as if a swarm of crazy cultists wasn’t already enough.

you quickly glance at the still convulsing body on the ground, parasitic tendrils clinging onto their last living seconds; just looking at it makes you want to vomit. the smell of puss, heavy in the air, doesn’t help your desire to empty the insides of your stomach. you do not know what causes them to mutate, and you make a note to avoid any unknown substances – you also log a mental check not to get bitten by one of them (just in case).

after escaping a village, getting access to this stupid castle trying to find stupid stupid leon kennedy (you’re sure that what s. in leon s. kennedy stands for), you overheard some of the cultists talking about two prisoners on the basement level. leon and ashley? the goal now is to figure out how to get to the basement (and why does it always have to be the basement).

with careful precision, you finish analyzing the room you found yourself in – it’s a storage space of some kind, and nothing about it is particularly helpful to you. letting out a deep sigh, you sit down to re-collect your thoughts. wandering around this castle with no purpose will only stall you further – and time is something you do not have luxury of wasting.

just as you were about to get up from the chair, you knee bumps into something underneath the table. bingo. you quickly try to search for a keyhole or a puzzle piece to fit in to open the hidden compartment. but the gods are smiling down on you today – it only takes a simple click of a lock for the secret drawer to unlatch. before opening it, you stand to the side (the gunshot wound would mean deaths of all parties you’re trying to get out of here), and slowly push it forward with the knife.

“no way.”

the gods are smiling down on you– inside the drawer you don’t find a loaded shotgun, a poisonous smoke or anything else aimed at taking you out. instead, you find yourself looking at the map. something akin to relief makes your hands tremble as you unfold the treasured piece of paper, looking at the building blueprints, as fresh as if this was drawn yesterday.

tracing the way down to the basement level, you try to decide the easiest and shortest way. some of the rooms might require a key, deducting it’d be smarter to stick to the main rooms which are less likely to be locked. shoving the map back into your side bag, you reload the gun and slowly leave the room, looking for any signs of being followed. making sure the coast is clear, you start your way down.

leon, you better be still fucking alive.

leon wakes up from another torturous nap. he doesn’t know how long it’s been: could be 2 days, could be a week. to keep his sanity, he keeps trying to count the meals they bring them, figuring out the passage of time. why is salazar even feeding them? they’d worth more to him dead.

“good morning, sunshine.”

leon groans as soon as he hears the voice coming from his side. he doesn’t need to turn his head to know that satoru gojo is, despite the circumstances they found themselves in, still smiling.

“god, do you ever stop talking? they should starve you,” leon sighs heavily, and leans against the wall. his arms hurt – they have been cuffed to the ceiling this whole time, and the constant chatting from his unwanted companion makes this situation ten times worse.

“oh, common, don’t you have faith in your government? or you’re not important enough to rescue?”

“i might not be but the girl definitely is.”

it seems to shut satoru up, even if for a moment. his comments did make leon wonder if the headquarters organized the search party yet – more time they spent here means more time for the cult leaders to complete whatever it is they want with ashley. him and satoru have been infected with las plagas parasite too, their time is running short.

sighing deeply, gojo also slumps against the wall. both men can feel… whatever they were infected with moving inside their bodies, crawling their way into their brains. satoru is not sure what makes him and leon so special, but no signs of any infection have been visible yet. he wonders if it is a waiting game now: waiting for the moment they start losing their minds. what a sight that would be.

just as he was going to make another comment about their current predicament, both agents hear gunshots coming from the hallway, just outside the prison cells. blood curling screaming follows, rippling through the air, the unknown person emptying their clip into the guards until the room is engulfed in the oppressive silence.

to leon’s great surprise, and a great relief he must admit, it’s not a crazed guard running through the doors this time around – instead, two locked-up agents are met by your face. you hold your gun out, hand outstretched in front of you, ready to shoot the last remnants of the infected. it’s only when your gaze meets leon’s and you don’t identify any immediate danger, the gun is lowered, and you are rushing towards the cell.

“holy shit, it’s nice to see a familiar face,” leon cannot help but smile at the sight of you standing outside the cell bars, trying to break the lock.

“you won’t believe but the feeling is mutual. one too many mutated cultists, and even i started missing your ugly mug,” you throw back, returning his smile. your eyes move to gojo. “who’s that?”

“his partner.”

“no one.”

two men say that in unison, exchanging a heated glance afterwards.

“okaaaay,” you drawl out, “i don’t really care, you can bicker later. what we need to do it we need to get the fuck outta here like right now.”

you rush to uncuff the men with the keys you stole form the guards you shot earlier, and wait until they are able to push themselves on their feet.

“i am satoru gojo,” mysterious blond introduces himself properly, and extends his arm. you shake his hand and mumble your name back. you don’t know why but he makes you nervous.

“okay, all formalities for later. both of us are infected with that new plaga parasite, we need to extract it immediately,” leon interrupts the intense staring contest you entered with satoru, making you snap your attention back to him.

“well, then you’re in luck. i passed something that looked like a laboratory on the way here. it’s not too far either, only one floor up.”

“okay, great, no time to waste.”

kennedy steps out the room first, you and gojo following close behind. you’re on full alert – it doesn’t matter that you just took half of the castle down, somehow, new infected keep popping out like bunnies out of woodwork. it doesn’t take long the three of you to reach the desired destination, lab laying just behind the door straight off the stairs.

you cautiously look inside – no one seems to be here. after entering the room, you stand on guard while satoru and leon are looking for anything that might look like the cure. it seems that gods are smiling once again on you today because leon is able to find the last two vials of the vaccine sample. you have never seen him grinning so widely – it would’ve been almost heartwarming if not for the grim circumstances all of you ended up in.

before they can inject themselves with the medicine, the door swings opened and you’re thrown into the shelf, located on the opposite side of the entrance. multiple bottles with unknown substances fall on top of you, one of them breaking and infusing the air with a white powder. before you realize what happened, you inhale the mysterious concoction, immediately bursting into a coughing fit.

“fuck, are you okay?” leon yells your name somewhere from the side, and you try to wave him off. gojo is distracting whoever rammed through the doors, shooting the gun you presented him back in the prison cell. it takes exactly three more headshots for the mutated cultist to drop dead, and you’re pushing yourself off the ground and back on your feet. satoru is eyeing you suspiciously – you’re too busy brushing off your clothes and getting your breathing in order to notice.

“common, jab yourselves with the vaccine and let’s go, we have no time to lose,” you say with coarse voice. leon is also looking at you with worry but decides not to mention anything. both men inject themselves with the medicine, hoping and praying it’ll work, before rushing out of the doors and back on track to find ashley.

running through the corridors of the castle, you can feel yourself getting weaker – there is a sheer layer of sweat covering your spine, goosebumps are dancing on your skin, and a very familiar heat is pooling between your legs. your head feels heavy, you’re barely able to string two coherent thoughts together so you resort to slowly trailing after two men who haven’t stopped arguing about the next course of action.

“i don’t care what you came here for, satoru. i have my rescue mission that still needs to be completed,” leon sighs heavily as he pushes through the heavy doors into the next room.

“sure,” the other blond man quickly agrees, “but don’t you think you government would say ‘thank you’ if you helped securing the source of this outbreak?” gojo questions as he follows leon through the doors. you want to weigh your opinion in but before you can open your mouth, as you cross the threshold of the room, you trip on your own feets and send yourself flying towards the floor. the loud bang makes both men turn their attention back to you.

“god, are you okay?” leon’s by your side in mere seconds, supporting you by the elbow so you can get up. the waves of his body heat wash over you, and you want nothing more but to curl into his body and kiss the spot underneath his jaw. has he always been so handsome? you’re so concentrated looking at leon, you don’t notice satoru standing near you now. he touches your forehead, and it takes all of your willpower not to moan. fuck, his cold hands feel so nice on your feverish skin.

“shit, she’s burning up.”

“you think it’s because of whatever substance she inhaled back in the lab?”

“i don’t know, everything’s possible.”

two agents move you to sit on the table in the corner of the room – they can clearly see how foggy your eyes are, a layer of milky mist dancing across your vision – and leon’s fingers find your pulse point. this time, you are not fast enough to stifle the low whine that escapes your lips. at any other time, you’d be dying of embarrassment but now your body is begging for release, and you’re ready to do anything to get it. anything to soothe the ache building up in your throbbing clit.

“’m so hot…” you mumble as you start taking off tactical t-shirt, baring your sports bra to the two men in the room. “and it really hurts.”

satoru and leon look at each other before they look at you – kennedy will have to work with you in the future so he’s really trying not to look at your perky nipple, shape visible through the fabric, unlike gojo, who’s taking in your current condition with almost sick satisfaction.

“where does it hurt?” satoru asks before leon is able to butt in. as if wanting to confirm his suspicion, you take his hand and guide it to your sex, cupping it.

“here.”

leon is not even able to react before gojo is lunging forward and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, making your head bang slightly against the wall. you let yourself moan into his mouth, satoru greedily claiming all the sounds to himself. it’s not nearly enough to pacify your accelerated heartbeat, but it’s still making you shudder. you’re spreading your legs to accommodate gojo’s tall frame – but before he is able to move any closer, he is thrown back by leon; loss of his warmth makes you whine.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kennedy hisses through his teeth, moving away from you and towards gojo.

“what does it look like? don’t pretend like you don’t know this is exactly what she needs right now,” satoru spits back. you think they continue arguing but their voices are being drowned out by the ringing in your ears. heat spreading through you sets everything on fire, and your pants join your t-shirt somewhere on the floor in your desperate attempt to relieve yourself of this scorching feeling. your partner notices it and sharply turns to face you.

“what the hell are you doi-” before leon can finish his sentence, you wrap you legs around him and press your body into his.

“leon, please…” you sob, hot tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, beads of salty water wetting your eyelashes and blurring your vision. hearing your pathetic plea, voice thick with lust and desire, looking at your tears-stained face, mouth slightly agape, and watching your lips, red and messy from satoru’s kiss, glistening in the moonlight – everything about you now screams ruin me and leon is not a strong enough man to resist it.

“what are you asking me to do, sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips in a teasing tone. his switch is almost jarring but you don’t have the brain capacity to mull over his sudden mood change. he moves his hand between your legs now, touching your pussy through your panties. leon’s fleeting touch is sending shivers down your spine, and you culr yourself into him more, whining and panting against his mouth. “jesus, she’s so fucking wet already.”

“i told you, didn’t i? she needs someone to stuff her full of cum,” satoru’s dirty talk comes somewhere from the side. too distracted by leon’s deep blue eyes, gojo’s touch makes you tremble in surprise and turn your head towards him. looking at his face, you’re met by baby blues – it felt like being thrown from the ocean into the endless skies. you think men with blue eyes will be the death of you.

gojo leans down to capture your lips again, re-exploring the sacred geometry of your kiss, while leon is planting wet kisses along your jawline. you mewl in euphoric pleasure, their touches soothing to your burning skin, and you’re completely giving yourself away to the bliss rolling over you in waves. leon’s digits are teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand, making him chuckle into your neck.

“she’s dripping, gojo. i bet she can take both of us unprepped,” leon says to the other agent, still busy with sucking on your lips, invading your mouth with his tongue. at his words, you shiver under men’s bodies, tingling sensation rushing through you.

“i want you in my lap, pretty girl,” satoru whispers against your lips, and you jump off into leon’s arms so the other man can sit on the table first. you move to climb on top of gojo, legs on either side of his thighs, ready to ride him, but your partner’s strong arm stops you from turning around.

“nah-ah, let him hold you spread open for me, i want to taste you first,” leon breathes against your ear, teasing the sensitive spot, making you quiver in his hold. you turn yourself towards gojo and see him grinning as he beckons you with two fingers to come closer. when you end up in his arms, he spins you around, his chest to your back, and makes you sit between his legs on the table, opening you up.

satoru’s masterful fingers unclasp your bra with ease while leon makes a quick work of your panties, shoving them into his pocket, unbeknownst to you. who knows how your relationship will work out after this – he needs something to remember this moment by. you are now sprawled completely naked for the two men’s hungry gazes: your cheeks are flushed, mouth shaped into a perfect “o”, short breaths escaping your lungs – you are truly a sight to behold. gojo wastes no time in cupping your breasts with his hands, trailing his lips on the side of your neck, sucking in hickeys as part of his claim.

kennedy gets on his knees in front of you, looking up into your eyes. gojo’s fingers are playing with your hardened nipple, making your hips buck upwards – right into leon’s mouth. his first languid swipe of the tongue comes just as satoru pinches your sensitive nubs, and you cannot help the pornographic moan escaping your lips.

“jesus, doll, who knew you’d sound so pretty,” it’s gojo’s voice against the shell of your ear, making you shudder. one of his hands keeps massaging your boob, twisting the nipple between his digits, while his other hand goes all the way down and spreads your folds for leon’s easy access. he hums in appreciation, and starts flicking his tongue up and down, drawing tight circles on your clit, sucking on it when he feels your legs tighten around his head.

agent’s movements make you squirm in satoru’s hold, dropping your head against his shoulder as leon continues eating you out. you’re absolutely incoherent now – your fever never dropped so your muscles are aching, toes curling in anticipation of the long awaited release, as you continue moaning through quick breaths.

“finger her.”

leon follows gojo’s command immediately, shoving his middle digit inside, while still lapping at your pussy. your walls clench against him almost instinctively, intrusion sudden but not unwelcome – he groans feeling the embracing heat of your cunt.

“fuck, she’s so fucking tight.”

gojo keeps your legs spread, you trying to close them around leon’s head as he keeps up his assault with his tongue. he’s nibbling on your clit, putting extra pressure with the tip of his tongue, licking it back and forth in quick succession, before flatting it to lick between your sticky folds, all the way down to the drooling hole. leon adds a second finger now, setting up a merciless pace – he is curling his digits in a heavenly way, able to hit the soft, spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and your pussy throb; you gasp loudly.

“i wish we had a phone to record this. you look so divine.”

you clench at gojo’s words, making leon groan. he’s now playing with your tits, rolling your nipple, tugging at them to add the painful sensation to the lit-up nerves. your desperate moans are bouncing among the walls, and gojo decides he wants to hear the squelching sounds of your pussy around leon’s fingers and his tongue’s wet sounds as he sloppily eats you out so he shuts you up with a kiss.

you feel your tummy begins tensing up as two men continue their ministrations: it’s satoru’s hot mouth on yours and his hands squeezing your tits, fingers playing with erect nipples; it’s leon’s tongue lapping at your pussy, precise circles on your clit and his digits scissoring you at a perfect speed, hitting the nerve bundle that rushes to send you over the end. your legs start shaking and you grab onto satoru’s arm around you to ground yourself.

“nnggh-…” you whimper into gojo’s mouth, and he finally lets you catch a breath. “’m so close,” you sob again, “’m gonna cum.”

“yeah, you want to cream all over agent kennedy’s face?” satoru taunts you from behind. “that’s so unprofessional,” he makes a tsk sound with his mouth and squeezes your cheeks to look at him.

“we’re feeling generous today, i think,” he quickly throws a glance down at leon, who only smirks as his tongue keeps licking and sucking at your clit. satoru looks you straight in the eyes as he slowly drawls his next words, “you may cum.”

the orgasm washed over you in glorious waves, rattling your entire existence. you’re scrunching your eyebrows, mouth agape with a sinful moan, as your thighs clasp around leon’s head. you’re quivering in gojo’s hold, his hands forcing your hips down, pressing them more against kennedy’s face. the latter doesn’t stop his onslaught, lips suctioning around the throbbing pearl, fingers still curled at earth-shattering angle. you try to move away but neither man lets you.

“uh-uh, where are you trying to run away? let him drink everything.”

and everything does leon kennedy drink – agent is lapping at your juices like a kitten at a fresh bowl of milk, now substituting his digits with his tongue as he keeps fucking in and out of your needy cunt. ministrations don’t stop, not even when your moans turn into little sobs as your body starts feeling overstimulated. your puffy clit is now ruined from satoru’s finger pads playing with it.

both men can feel your form shaking almost violently, gojo’s gathering your falling tears with his tongue. leon’s finally pulling his face away from your sex, standing up to look at your ruined state.

“god, i only ate her out and she already looks fucked out,” he chuckles to the other blond man, and moves to stand between your legs.

“let me taste her,” before you can react, gojo’s grabbing leon by the back of his head and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. trapped between a rock and a hard place, you can do nothing but observe the most passionate display of carnage you’ve ever witnessed – they were slobbering over each other’s faces, and it made your pussy clench around nothing. god, you can’t wait to fuck them both.

“she’s sweet, just how i like them,” satoru smirks against leon’s lips, turning his attention back to you immediately. “common, princess, you’re going to have to ride me if you want both of us.”

you’re quickly climbing on the table, straddling him. kennedy situates himself right behind you, warmth radiating off him like in suffocating waves. you’re trying to unbuckle satoru’s jeans to free his heavy cock, still trapped in confines of his boxer briefs, but leon smacks your ass, sending you forward into gojo’s embrace. it stings, the outline of his hand already forming a bruise, and you’d be mad if you pussy lips didn’t flutter at the slap.

“you’re taking too long, sweetheart,” you hear satoru, both men undoing their belts and zippers before you can, pulling out their leaking cocks. from your position you could only see satoru’s hard dick as he stroked himself near your aching hole, but what you’ve seen was enough to make you almost scared – gojo’s dick was long and blessed with a perfect curve, just upwards, one thick vein running prominently from the bottom of his shaft ending just before his mushroom head. you’re sure leon’s looked just as pretty.

“you haven’t said a word. you wanna ask nicely for what you want?” you hear leon behind you as he’s pushing you forward again, right into satoru’s chest, and teasing your waiting cunt with his thick tip – the mixture of his spit, your slick and his precum is dripping down satoru’s cock from where he’s positioned just underneath you, and the messiness of it all makes leon groan.

“please, i want your cocks inside me… please,” you sob out again, vocal cords heavy with tears.

“i think this will be our reward for saving us, how about that, huh?” there is a teasing tilt in satoru’s voice, and you grab at his shoulders, mewling like a needy animal in heat.

“yes, yes, anything,” you’re blabbering with teary voice, making men hard at the mere image of you: a capable agent reduced to a cock-drunk slut, an image that makes their cocks twitch.

leon grabs gojo’s member, giving it a couple strokes, surprising the white-haired man but hearing no complaints. his thumb is playing with the drooling slit of his tip, beads of pre-cum decorating the entrance to his flushed dick, and kennedy can’t help but smirk at how blissed out satoru looks. he’s guiding his heavy and red cock inside you, while his other hand rests on your waist. gojo’s forcing your hips down while bucking his up, and he fills you up in one long thrust.

“ah!” you cry out, biting your lip to the blood, metallic taste in your mouth almost overwhelming on top of the mix of pain and pleasure burning through your body. you’re whimpering into satoru’s mouth, while his hand is running soothing circles on your back.

“here you go, such a good fucking girl. taking me in so well, huh? all it took is one thrust, so perfect,” he’s blabbering against your skin as he starts sinking in and out of your sloppy hole. looking down, you can see the bulge in your tummy, and it makes you purr – you not only feel him splitting you in two, you are able to witness it. his reddened tip is meeting your cervix in a bruising kiss, and god, he’s making you fell so good.

you’re so lost in the rapturous sensation of gojo’s huge cock pushing against your gummy walls, you don’t notice leon’s presence behind you – he is grabbing your hips with one hand while his other is jerking his dick, prepping himself to enter you. his tip is near your whole when you finally realize what’s he’s trying to do.

“no! no, it’s too mu- ah!” he doesn’t let you finish before he start pushing himself inside, sliding alongside satoru’s heavy member, making the man grunt.

“fuck, feels so tight and warm,” you hear behind you as kennedy sets a punishing pace, sheathing himself into your abused hole. they are stretching you out to heavens, leon looking at your gaping cunt with pride. it’s fluttering and clenching around their huge cocks, your walls spasming in pleasure as their lengths are grinding against your soft spots. you can hear your pussy queefing, and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin add to the dirty symphony.

“ngg, ngg- feels so, so goo-” you’re unable to finish your sentence as they keep bouncing you on their cocks, manhandling your body however they seem fit. you’ve never felt so full – both men keep drilling into you, like you’re no more than their little personal toy to play with. satoru grabs you by the back of your neck, biting at your lips, sloppily making out with you, while leon grabs your hair, forcing you back on his dick.

you can feel both cocks twitching inside you, approaching climax evident by their shallow breathing, moans hitching at every thrust of the hips. your walls are tightening around their cocks, and men’s whimpering and groaning is sinful to listen to, yet they are determined to make you climax first.

“common, gorgeous, cum around our cocks,” gojo hoaxes from underneath you. leon pushes your hips even closer into satoru’s body, your clit now grinding against his pubic bone, and it’s making you teeter on the edge of your bliss.

your bladder feels pressure you’ve never experienced before as gojo’s cock pressing against it from a perfect angle. leon is digging his fingers into the plush skin of your ass, rutting in and out of you, pushing against your back walls. all of your nerves are on fire, exploding fireworks in your brain, sending all your pleasure receptors into the overdrive. as your second orgasm washes over you, you’re left trembling in the men’s arms, leon’s chest against your back, your sweaty tits against satoru’s broad front.

“that’s a good girl, look at how cock-drunk you are,” you can hear them chuckle between themselves, not slowing down for a second. leon can see the white creamy ring enveloping the base of his cock in a soft embrace – it’s making him lose last of his slipping composure as he starts thrusting extra hard, thus speeding gojo up.

you bounce like a rag doll on top of gojo, having no semblance of control, being completely used by two agents. the pressure in your bladder comes back, and you throw your head back – your body continues quivering uncontrollably as you start sobbing again, tears drawing salty rivers on your cheeks, result of your body riding into stimulation. before you know it, something warm and so fucking wet starts gushing out of you. you want to look down, but men react first by groaning, voice impossibly thick with lust and awe.

“fuck, baby, didn’t expect you to squirt this much. so fucking filthy, i bet you waited to do this the whole time,” gojo grunts from underneath you, and you can only purr in response. it only takes couple more thrusts before leon and satoru synchronize their orgasms, shooting the ribbons of cum inside your womb, painting it pearly white, fucking it in warm and cozy. the squelching sounds ricocheting among the walls are nothing but sinful, and your cheeks flush red from the realization of what just transpired.

as both men pull out of your abused, stretched out hole, the combined mixture of all the fluids trickle down your thighs, making you groan in disgust. now that aphrodisiac has been fucked out from your system, you can’t even bring yourself to look them in the eyes. you hurry to pick up your clothes, but your legs give out underneath you – you’d end up flat on your ass, if not for leon who caught you mid fall.

tension in the air is palpable, electricity dancing on your skin is able to set everything on fire again. you’re ready to break the silence when satoru speaks first.

“you know, kennedy, next time you want to touch my cock, you don’t need to bring a woman between us.”

he leaves the room before either of you are able to force a reaction, and you wish you’d left both of them for dead instead.

© rinniessance do not steal, plagiarize or translate my works. do not recommend me on tiktok, thank you

[lunaandco]

i heard from a friend of a friend

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: ivet recovers her love for football thanks to some guys at the park. one of them wants to introduce her to a friend of his; or in which ivet meets gavi through a common friend.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

The park was just two streets away from where Ivet lived. It wasn't the aesthetic and gentrified kind of Barcelona park she had grown up around, but a gray concrete and grafittied place that boys used to skate and play football.

Ivet crossed it every day to go to work, ignoring the itch on her legs to kick the ball every time it flew past her. She had played, once upon a time, with pigtails and her older brother's second hand kits and boots, but that time was long gone. Oscar had grown out of the sport when she was around fourteen, and without him it had not been as fun for her, so she ended up dropping out too.

That didn't mean she didn't miss it, the adrenaline, the power, the skill.

She had cried like a baby when Spain lifted the Women's World Cup, watching how a bunch of girls made a dream that she thought impossible reality; she had gotten drunk with her friends when the men lifted the Eurocup.

"Careful!" a voice called, while she was crossing the park. On pure reflex, Ivet controlled the ball that was hurled at her, quickly stopping the movement. She located the owners quickly, a bunch of guys that were staring at her as if she had grown a second head.

She made the pass, missing the ball the moment it left her feet.

"Woah," the guy that recueved the ball approached her. "Do you play? We're missing one!"

Ivet bit her lower lip. The offer was everything she had wanted to hear, but a bunch of strangers, specially male strangers, made her a little bit nervous. She mentally checked what she was wearing: comfortable sweats and a pair of trainers that, while they weren't ideal, they were good enough.

"Can I play?" she asked, not believing it yet.

"Please," replied the guy. "My name is Guille. This are Rafa. Marcos..." He gave her the names of the seven guys. Ivet replied shyly with hers.

"You play in my team, Javi, you change. We play with our shirts on, they play shirtless."

"Oh, c'mon, why do I have to change?"

"Well, she's not gonna play shirtless, is she?"

Javier could not argue against that logic, and pulled off his shirt.

"Let's fucking go."

Ivet wasn't fourteen anymore. It took her a while to get used to the pace, a bit rusty from the years without playing, but catching up in no time. Football was like riding a bike, in some ways. By the time they all had to go home, Ivet was sweating a big smile stretching her face.

"Damn, girl," Guille patted her back like she was one mkre of the gang. "Come back whenever you want, this was awesome."

Ivet did.

Once she had tasted the adrenaline of football once again, it was like she could not get enough.

"You're from Barcelona, right?" Asked Guille one of those days.

"Yeah, born and rised."

"Why are you here tho? In Sevilla?" Marcos took a swing of his soda can.

"My parents found a better job here."

"Damn. It's funny, you know. We have a friend that had to move to Barna a few years ago," Guille said. Marco stepped on his foot, a wordless way to tell him to shut up. "It's like you're replacing each other."

Ivet laughed it off, and returned to the game with them.

💙❤️

"Hey, where are the others?" Ivet asked Guille as she approached the park, and only him and Marcos were there.

"We are going to play at the sports centre today," explained Guille, a guilty expression on his face. "Our friend, the one from Barcelona is visiting, so we're doing this a little bit more fancy."

"Ah."

Ivet took a step back. It stung a little bit that after half a year of playing with them, she wasnt yet part of the group enough to know about thsese kind of change of plans, but she had never met the friend from Barcelona, so she understood why she hadn't been let on what the plans were about.

One thing she didn't understand was why the friend wanted to play at the sports centre and not the park. Obviously the centre had its advantages, artificial turf, proper goal posts and a big pitch that one could rent privately, but it seemed like a lot of hassle just because.

"But.. I was kind of hoping to introduce you two, today," added Guille. "Maybe you can join us, if y'all vibe nicely."

"Ah?"

"He's picking us up in—"

A car honk interrupted Marcos' explanation. The three of them turned to the expensive looking car by the street.

"Let's go!"

Guille grabbed Ivet by the wrist and pulled her towards the guy that was hopping off the car. He was Ivet's size, with broad shoulders, thick thighs, and a confident strut.

Marcos reached him first, and they melted into a tight hug. Then it was Guille's turn, there were a lot of back pats loving insults.

"Hermano, this is the girl I told you about, Ivet."

"Nice to meet you," she said, examining the boy's face. He was handsome, a boyish smirk that reminded her of her brother in some ways, pointy teeth and a couple of small faint scars peppering his skin.

"Same. I'm Gavi."

Ah. That explained why Guille and the others were so low-key about their friend from Barcelona. He was not only living in the city, he was playing for them in first division.

Luckily for Ivet, she had seen very few matches from the men's side, not enough to get star struck meeting him. She preferred watching Barça Femení games, since they were more affordable and she had not been able to enjoy women's football when she was a kid.

"So, Guille speaks wonders of you. Are you coming to play with us tonight?" asked Gavi, giving her a shirt greeting hug.

"Uhm..." Guille and Marcos had not been very specific about that.

"Yes!" replied Marcos for her.

"Let's go then!" Gavi threw his arm around Guille's shoulder, leading them back to the car.

Ivet stopped right on her tracks.

"Uhm, wait a second. I can't..."

"What?" The three boys turned to her in tandem, as she pulled out her phone. "I need to..." she said absent mindedly, as she quickly texted her location to one of her female friends and her brother. She then walked to the front of the car and snapped a picture of the license plate.

"What on earth are you doing?" Asked Guille.

"Sending my brother the info," she replied, as she finished detailing the plans. "Have your mothers never told you not to go on stranger's cars?"

"Yeah, but we're not strangers, you don't need all that."

"Huh. That is how you get yourself kidnapped, Guille."

Gavi snorted.

"Oh, c'mon, look at me," said Gavi. "I've got like, the worst disguise to commit a crime."

"On the contrary. Who would believe my best friend if she said I was last seen with you, when we have never met before?"

"Damn," admitted Marcos. "That's a good one."

"I know."

"How do I know you're not a crazy fan ready to post everything about me on Instagram?" rebuked Gavi then, but he was smiling widely.

Ivet snorted.

"Same as I know you're not a kidnapper. Leap of faith."

Gavi snickered and opened the passenger door.

"Girls first," he told her, ignoring Guille and Marcos' protests of being relegated to the back seat.

"Thank you," she whispered, even if she would rather sit on the back seat, and be by the margins.

Gavi drove like a madman, toying with the speed limit.

"You're from Barna, no?"

"I was born in Gràcia," she said, holding to the seat as discreetly as she could, her face turning green.

"How does Marta deal with you hanging out with a pretty girl every day?" Asked Gavi then, looking at the rear mirror for a split of a second.

Ivet tensed. She knew that her gender separated from the friend group and jt made her unlikely to be fully considered one of the bros, but the reminder still stung.

"Quite well, hermano. Ivet was the one that helped me ask her out."

"Ah, joder." Gavi was silent for a beat. "All my exs would have insisted I was cheating."

"That is kind of your fault Gavito, you're such a catch you bring the paranoia in everyone," said Marcos. Ivet rolled her eyes, which only Gavi saw. He snickered tongue swiping at his teeth.

"And you? Your boyfriend is fine with all the men you hang out with?"

"I don't have a boyfriend. And if he had a problem, then he would stop being my boyfriend very quickly."

💙❤️

At the sports centre, there were more boys than Ivet knew. Friends and cousins of Gavi that didn't necessarily mingle regularly with Guille and his gang.

Ivet kept close to Guille and Marco, as all the boys went through their greetings. They don't stall too much, quickly arguing the way of making the most balanced team.

"Gavi should play with the girl," said one of the guys Ivet didn't know. "To balance things out..."

Ivet crossed her arms above her chest.

"How is that supposed to balance the team, genius?" she asked, knowing exactly why he had said that. She just wanted to see if he had the balls to admit it to her face.

"Ivet will play for my team," decided Guille, who was in the team against Gavi.

With that issue quickly resolved, Ivet watched the boys organise the teams. She purposely dropped to the background, waiting for the game to start.

Guille told her to take the left wing. Ivet hadn't play such a well structured game in years, but she adapted well to the change. Most of the boys she didn't know had ended up in Gavi's team, so she caught them by surprise, shooting a ball to the post.

Gavi, who had been relegated to goalkeeper in order to maintain the fairness of the game, cursed like a madman.

"Don't let Ivet take the ball," he kept ordering his team. It made Ivet smile as she assisted Guille's first goal.

In the end, Gavi recklessly left the goal to dribble past Guille's entire team to ensure his own victory, to which all the boys complained half-heartedly. They all knew his competitive spirit would flare up sooner or later.

💙❤️

By the tike they were all leaving the sport centre, Ivet approached Guille.

"About the money, what do I owe you guys?" she asked him. Renting a pitch on the centre meant paying quite a bit of money. Marco shrugged.

"Usually Gavi pays for it. He feels guilty that we can't play normally when he's around, so he covers the cost of his... special needs," he explained.

"We tried to pay once and he just invited us for dinner after. He does not like being denied," added Guille.

Ivet bitbher lower lip. She could understand why Gavi would pay for his firmed, but for her?

She then approached him gently. Gavi was hugging one of his cousins goodbye, so she waited at a respectful distance.

"Guille said you were good, but I fear he underrated you," told her Gavi once they were alone. She blushed.

"Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"I'm sorry?"

Ivet explained her reasoning, to which Gavi only shook his head.

"No, no, you're my friend now," he said, dropping his arm around her shoulder.

"But..."

"Unless you want to be my date. I would like that very much, there's this new coffee shop my sister says I have to try?"

"What?" Ivet stopped on her tracks, making Gavi turn to look at her directly.

"I'm asking you on a date, Ivet. You're supposed to say yes."

Ivet hesitated a bit.

"Yes?"