#the more time I have the more brutal it will be and I’m so ready
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damselflyvids · 11 hours ago
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@captaincaptainfisher and many others asked if there’s anything they can do without money, and the answer is absolutely yes! real change never happens because of donations, although money is certainly helpful at times. there are so, so many more ways to keep each other alive and lay the foundations for a better world. which ones you choose will depend on what skills you have or want to build.for example, I’m good with data so I’m coordinating the massive data entry and behind-the-scenes spreadsheets for a ballot referendum that, if passed, would divest a major American city from Israel.
you’re calm and collected? you could be a great abortion clinic escort or a legal observer at protests (in my state at least, becoming an LO requires no legal background, you just take one training and then you’re ready to document police brutality).
you ride a bike? protests always need corkers to keep people safe from traffic!
you’d drive a car? out of state abortion seekers need rides.
you’re a good cook? Food Not Bombs and other mutual aid groups would love to bring you a big load of groceries every week so you can make hot meals and distribute them to the homeless! or maybe you work at a bakery and can get them leftover bread.
you were good in high school chemistry, or you’re going through menopause? you can make or get estrogen
you’re a trans woman who already has safe access to estrogen? cool, you can pretty easily lie to doctors to get prescribed testosterone for your trans brothers.
@thefloralmenace and others will have many, many more ideas, these are just some of the things I see happening in my own communities.
here’s the key: to get started, you’re going to have to show up and talk to someone. I know that’s hard for some of us. I get it, I have social anxiety! but once you show up, you’ll realize it actually feels really good to be doing something. and the more you show up, the more you will grow your network and your skills, until one day things that were unthinkable feel easy.
I’ll end with a story to show how this can work. I used to work out in the woods, so I have more first aid training than the average bear. at the first protest after Dobbs, when I knew maybe two people in my big scary new city, I went up to a medic and asked how I could do what she was doing. two years later I’ve medicked more actions than I can count and built even more connections with people I respect and love (including an unbelievably hot and sweet girlfriend, lesbians take note). I am currently organizing a training to get new folks equipped with the same skills. and after one of the latest string of natural disasters, that medic collective decided to expand into going into the areas FEMA won’t (the hollers, the poor Black communities) with community mutual aid and medical supplies. so next month I’ll be learning how to use a chainsaw to clear downed trees to prepare for another support run to Western NC, where I’ll meet and learn from even more people.
that’s how much you can change your life, just by showing up once asking how to help. no donations required.
if you're feeling powerless right now—and god knows I am—here's a reminder you can donate to the National Network of Abortion Funds, the Trans Law Center, Gaza Soup Kitchen, the Palestine Children's Relief Fund, and hundreds of other charities that will work to mitigate the damage that has been and will continue to be inflicted
life continues. we still have the capacity to do good, important work. that matters
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muletia · 2 days ago
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[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader
summary: optimus has a dream about you
cw: obsessed!optimus, angst, fluff (only at the beginning), implied robot-fucking/valveplug, mentioned pregnancy, optimus is depressed
word count: 810
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The mission took longer than he expected. Retaking the energon mine from the Decepticons stretched on for what felt like an eternity, as the enemy kept calling in reinforcements. For every fallen Vehicon, two more would appear, alive and ready. The battle dragged on too long, completely draining the Autobots’ energy and morale. But they succeeded. For the first time in many months, they claimed victory, securing a steady supply of energon.
Optimus was the first to cross the ground bridge, praying to Primus that you were still in the base. Once inside, he transformed gracefully, though in haste, and headed toward the platform. The tension left him instantly when he saw you on the couch with a book in hand. He made a mental note to ask you about it later.
Despite his exhaustion, he managed a smile, mirroring your animated expression. Getting close enough to the platform, he leaned down and pressed the gentlest, most tender kiss on your head, pouring all his immense love for you into that single act. You giggled as his warm breath lightly tousled your hair, and Optimus listened to your laughter as if it were the most beautiful melody, composed just for him. Feeling playful, he blew gently once more so you’d grace him with your laughter again.
The other team members paid no mind to the sweet scene, fully accustomed to your little exchanges of affection.
"Hello, my dearest," he murmured, still close to you. He didn’t want to leave your side. Ever.
"Hello, love. Mission accomplished?"
"Yes, we managed to secure the mine. We have supplies for the next few months."
"That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you."
Now it was your turn to shower him with affection. You planted kisses on his warm metal face, making sure not to miss a single spot, so Optimus knew just how much you loved him. Such a simple gesture was enough to make the leader of the Autobots weak in the knees, looking as though he’d ascended to heaven. But thankfully, he didn’t have to ascend anywhere — his heaven was right there, wherever you were. He had never been so happy, so blissfully content. After all those years of brutal war, spilled energon, and lost comrades, he had finally found his piece of heaven.
"Optimus?"
He blinked a few times. He was no longer in the base. Before him stretched a vast panorama of mountains, forests, valleys, and lakes, with no beginning or end. He’d passed similar landscapes many times on patrol, admiring the beauty of this planet. Each time, they left him speechless.
"Optimus?"
He looked down to where the voice was coming from, and a smile appeared automatically when he saw you. You looked concerned, likely because of his momentary distraction; to comfort him, you were gently stroking the metal on his shoulder… When had he managed to mass-displace? He had no idea, and it didn’t matter as long as you were so close, touching him, focusing all your attention on him.
He wanted to hold you and never let go so much.
"You were gone for a long time. I was worried."
Looking at you as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, Optimus gently stroked your cheek, handling you like fine porcelain. You smiled at his gesture, snuggling closer into his metal servo. He was always so tender with you, so gentle, a contrast to his true, raw strength. He took care to never harm you, to always make you feel safe.
Especially during the pregnancy.
His caring optics instinctively shifted to your slightly rounded belly, widening in surprise. He looked startled, and he was. Shocked that your biologies were compatible enough to create an offspring together.
But he had known about it for a few months now…
Slowly, he moved his trembling hand to your belly, caressing the curve. A smile appeared on his slightly parted lips. Could it be that his life had finally come together? No more war, no more being a Prime? Could he finally be free?
"This is a dream, isn’t it?" he whispered, looking into your eyes.
But you were no longer there.
Optimus woke up tense and anxious. Of course, it had only been a dream. His life couldn’t be so perfect, so flawless. He clutched his face as the scenes from the dream played over in his processor, now tormenting him in the real world. You haunted him even in his dreams, offering no respite even in his most private realm. But, unfortunately for him, there was only one antidote for this condition.
With a heavy spark, he got up from his berth and left his quarters. He automatically headed toward the main section of the base, clinging desperately to the faint, naive hope that he’d find you there and maybe, just maybe you would spare him a glance.
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legendoftherisingtide · 2 years ago
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grrr i hate you world let me play dnd with my friends
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historicallyaccuratecheese · 6 months ago
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god I hate how brutal pipe murder is actually becoming funny to me now. …i’ve hit rock bottom. or ascended. I don’t know…
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isaadore · 8 days ago
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STITCHES QUINN HUGHES
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pairing quinn hughes x doctor!reader
SUMMARY when quinn suffers a shoulder injury, he’s forced to work with you. word count 1.2k words
warnings mentions of injury and physical pain, workplace romance, teasing, forced proximity (?), fluff
note first quinn fic in a while!! (even tho it's a bit on the shorter side 😞) missed writing for him
MAIN MASTERLIST QH43 MASTERLIST
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THE CROWD CHEERED as the Canucks’ focused, ready to take back the lead. You watched from the medical bay, eyes following the puck and scanning for any signs of injury. As the new head of the medical team, this season was a make-or-break for you, and you knew you had to prove yourself capable of handling any situation under pressure.
Then, it happened.
A bone-jarring hit echoed through the rink. Your eyes shot up to the screen just in time to see Quinn Hughes take a brutal check into the boards, twisting in a way that made your stomach lurch. He went down hard, clutching his shoulder. The team’s medical staff rushed onto the ice and helped him off, and a few moments later, he was hobbling into the treatment room, face pale and pained, still gripping his shoulder.
He sat down, wincing as he did so, and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours. He offered a slight nod, even managing a tight smile. “Guess it was just a matter of time, huh?”
You returned his smile, feeling sympathetic. “Seems like it, but let’s see what’s going on.”
You placed an ice pack over his shoulder, trying to ease some of the swelling. “I’ll start with a few checks to see what kind of injury we’re dealing with. Let me know if it hurts too much.”
He gave a small nod. “I’m tougher than I look.”
Carefully, you guided his arm, checking his shoulder’s movement. He was trying to play it off, but you could see his face tighten in pain. “Quinn, don’t push through it,” you said gently but firmly. “If it hurts, I need to know.”
He let out a shaky breath. “All right… yeah, it hurts a lot more than I thought it would.”
“Thank you for being honest,” you replied, moving his arm back to a resting position. “For now, let’s get a scan to see what’s really going on. My guess is you’ll need some time off the ice to heal, maybe a few weeks.”
His expression fell, and he let out a quiet sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That long?”
You nodded, keeping your tone reassuring. “It’s tough, but this is about protecting your long-term health. We’ll take it step by step.”
He nodded, visibly frustrated. “Can’t say I’m thrilled, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”
The next morning, Quinn showed up for his first official rehab session. He wore a hoodie, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture closed off and frustrated. You recognized the look; a mix of vulnerability and irritation. Being benched was the last thing any player wanted.
“Ready to get started?” you asked, offering a gentle smile.
He shrugged, though his attempt to hide his irritation was clear. “I don’t know if I’d say ready, but I’m here.”
You chuckled, leading him through an outline of the exercises. “Today’s going to be mostly small movement work. It might seem light, but this is where it all begins.”
You guided him through gentle exercises, keeping it easy to help him regain strength in his shoulder. He followed along, sometimes gritting his teeth when it hurt, and you noticed him stealing glances your way when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d fidget whenever your hands brushed his shoulder or arm, you could see he trying to distract himself from the pain.
After the session, you began to reorganize the room. He leaned against a table, watching you. “So, how’d you end up working with a bunch of stubborn hockey players?”
You laughed, glancing at him. “Guess I like a challenge.”
He grinned, looking amused. “Well, you found one. We’re all terrible patients.”
“I’m beginning to see that,” you teased, crossing your arms as you met his gaze. “But I don’t mind it.”
Over the following weeks, Quinn’s rehab sessions became a regular part of your day. You fell into a rhythm together, moving through the exercises, slowly adding tougher movements as his shoulder improved. Sometimes you talked about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company. He’d walk in a little more relaxed each day, his mood visibly lifting.
One morning, after a particularly tough session, he sat back, wiping sweat from his brow. “I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said, half-joking. “I’m probably driving you nuts.”
You leaned against the table beside him, crossing your arms. “Honestly? You’re one of my better patients. Some guys complain non-stop.”
“Guess I’m saving that part for later,” he replied, smirking. Then he paused, his smile fading a bit. “But seriously… thank you. You make this bearable.”
Your gaze softened. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s hard to be off the ice, but I’m here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “I can tell you actually mean that.” His voice was quiet, almost as if he were afraid of ruining the moment. “Most people just want to get us back on the ice as fast as possible for the pay. But you’re different.”
Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his words. “I care about what I do. And it’s easy to care for passionate people.”
His expression softened, and he looked at you, something in his gaze you couldn’t quite place. “Maybe you can remind me next time I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
“Deal,” you replied, smiling. “But you owe me for all this extra therapy.”
He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk appearing on his face. “Are you saying I’m high maintenance?”
“I’m saying that you’re lucky I’m patient,” you shot back, feeling a strange, excited flutter in your chest. His playful expression softened, and his eyes focused intently on you.
“I’ll remember that,” he said quietly, his gaze holding yours a little longer than necessary.
One evening, after the facility had mostly emptied, you were finishing up some paperwork when you heard footsteps approaching. You looked up, surprised to see Quinn lingering in the doorway, looking as though he’d been debating whether or not to come in.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, setting down your pen.
“Didn’t expect you to be here this late either,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Do you ever stop working?”
You smiled. “Not when I’m invested in a patient’s progress. And you, Quinn, are making a lot of progress.”
He stepped further into the room, a hesitant smile on his face. “That’s good to hear. And I guess part of me wanted to say thanks. For everything.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already thanked me a hundred times.”
“I know. But…” He looked down, gathering his thoughts. “This isn’t easy for me. Not being on the ice, not doing what I love. But you make it easier.”
The air felt thick, and his gaze met yours, soft and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. You felt your pulse quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you said, “Maybe when you’re cleared, we can celebrate with a coffee; you owe me after all.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it quickly melted into a warm smile. “I’d like that. More than you know.”
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‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ QH43 MASTERLIST
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daisynik7 · 1 year ago
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Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~1.7k
cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby) 
Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated. 
Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune. 
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You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button. 
Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”
It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you. 
The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face. 
You never told me your name.
Why do you want to know my name?
Because I want to know who I’m looking at.
This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 
It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”
“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.
He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. 
Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom. 
Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you. 
“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”
He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”
You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”
“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”
You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm. 
You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”
“Can I get a kiss now?” 
He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”
“Aw man! Really?”
You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”
You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now. 
“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”
“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling. 
“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.
“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation. 
You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you. 
You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him. 
“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”
Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”
“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more. 
“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs. 
“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric. 
“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.
He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?” 
You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth. 
He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”
Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it. 
Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”
You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”
After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives. 
As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”
You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace. 
“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”
You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."
He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”
You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.
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pucksandpower · 6 months ago
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Pequeña
Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics
Fernando Alonso x Webber!Reader
Summary: a brutal breakup leads you right into the arms of one of your father's oldest friends (or in which being sooooo normal about Fernando Alonso runs in the Webber family)
Warnings: 18+ content, age gap, taking advantage of an emotionally vulnerable state, breeding, and pregnancy
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You sit hunched on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest as tears stream down your face. Your mobile vibrates again and you swipe away another message from your now ex-boyfriend without reading it. How could he do this to you? You thought what you had was real.
Your thoughts drift to home, to your family thousands of miles away in Australia. You long for your dad’s comforting embrace and your mum’s reassuring words. But they’re so far away. You feel painfully alone in this strange English city where you’ve come to attend university.
Before you can stop yourself, you’re dialing a familiar number. It rings three times before a warm voice picks up. “Hola pequeña! What’s wrong?”
“N-Nando ...” You sniffle, trying and failing to keep your voice from cracking. “He … he cheated on me.”
There’s a pause before Fernando responds, his Spanish lilt taking on a protective edge. “That little hijo de puta. I’ll kill him myself.”
You let out a watery laugh. “No, don’t do that. I … I just miss home. Miss my family.”
“Say no more, pequeña. You’re coming to stay with me for a bit, yeah? Can’t have you all alone like this.”
You hesitate, wiping at your tears. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose ...”
“Impose?” Fernando laughs. “My favorite girl? Never. I’m sending a car to get you right now.”
“No, no, I can drive myself-”
“You’ll do no such thing in this state,” he chides. “Driver’s on his way. Go pack a bag.”
You open your mouth to protest again but think better of it. Fernando can be extremely stubborn when he wants to be. “Okay, okay. Thank you, Nando. Really.”
“De nada, pequeña. I’ve got the guest room all ready for you. We’ll get through this together, yeah?”
His soothing Spanish accent is already making you feel infinitely better. You know Fernando has been close with your family for years, has watched you grow up into the young woman you are today. He’s always treated you like his own daughter.
“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it. Spending time with Fernando is guaranteed to lift your spirits. “Your place in Silverstone, right?”
“That’s the one. Get packing and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll see you very soon.”
You hang up and immediately start throwing clothes and essentials into an overnight bag with a renewed sense of hope. Fernando always knows just what to do to make you feel better.
Two hours later, you’re being ushered into the backseat of a sleek black sedan by a courteous driver in a pressed suit. He takes your bag and stows it in the trunk before sliding behind the wheel.
“Miss Webber? I’ll be taking you to Mr. Alonso’s residence now.”
You nod, suddenly exhausted from all the crying. The driver seems to sense your melancholy because he doesn’t try to make small talk.
The English countryside whips by in a blur of green fields and quaint villages. Before you know it, the sedan is pulling up to an impressive brick estate surrounded by beautifully manicured gardens.
The driver lets you out and leads you up to the front door, which swings open before you can knock. Fernando stands there in a soft white sweater and dark-washed jeans, arms open wide.
“Pequeña!” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he pulls you into a fierce hug. “Welcome, welcome.”
You breathe in his comforting scent of sandalwood and citrus as he rubs soothing circles on your back. “I’m glad you came,” he murmurs.
He ushers you inside and you can’t help but gape at the tasteful, modern interior decor. It’s bright and airy, with huge windows offering views of the impeccable gardens beyond.
“This place is incredible, Nando,” you say, trailing behind him as he leads you through the spacious living room towards what appears to be the kitchen.
“You like?” He grins over his shoulder. “I had it remodeled not too long ago. Here, have a seat.” He pulls out a barstool at the huge kitchen island.
You take a seat, settling your elbows on the cool granite surface as Fernando busies himself at the stove. “So,” he says without turning around. “Tell me everything, from the beginning. Don’t leave out a single detalle.”
You sigh, resting your chin in your hands as Fernando starts pulling ingredients from the fridge. “Well, it started a few weeks ago. ..”
You recount all the little things that, in hindsight, were red flags: the constant emailing and texting, the unusually long nights “studying” at the library, the bizarre excuses. Fernando listens intently, occasionally tossing in a sympathetic “maldito idiota” or an indignant shake of his head.
Finally, you get to the part where you finally confronted your now ex about his shady behavior … only to have him confess that he’d been cheating on you for months with some underclassman sociology major.
By the time you’ve finished, your voice is thick from holding back a fresh wave of tears. Fernando sets down the knife he was using to chop vegetables and comes around the island to pull you into another hug.
“Oh, pequeña,” he murmurs into your hair. “Lo siento mucho. You didn’t deserve any of that, you hear me?”
You just nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Fernando rubs your back again before pulling away, hands on your shoulders so he can look you square in the eyes.
“Listen. That boy?” A feisty glint enters his warm hazel eyes. “He’s a fool, a complete and total imbecile for hurting someone as incredible as you. You’re so brave, so strong, so full of life ...” He tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “And any man should consider himself the luckiest in the world to have you in his life, you understand?”
You manage a watery smile and nod again. Leave it to Fernando to know exactly what to say to begin mending your broken heart.
“Good.” He straightens up, clapping his hands together decisively. “Now dry those tears, pequeña. I’m making my famous seafood paella for dinner tonight and I’ll need my best assistant chef!”
You let out a surprised laugh, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “You know I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”
“Nonsense!” Fernando waves a dismissive hand as he returns to the cutting board. “Everyone can learn with a little guidance from Chef Nano, no?”
The next couple of hours pass in a blur of cheerful chopping, stirring, and laughing as Fernando walks you through the steps, nudging you gently whenever you veer off course. It’s impossible to stay weighed down by your sadness when he’s cracking jokes in that irreverent way of his and peppering you with silly kitchen nicknames.
By the time you’ve portioned out the fragrant saffron rice studded with shrimp, mussels, and clams into bowls, you’re doubled over in a fit of giggles from Fernando’s dramatic retelling of his past Formula 1 antics.
“... And then this crazy Australian madman comes barreling into the pit and just starts laying into me!” He throws his hands up, eyes dancing with mirth. “If Charlie hadn’t stepped in, I think your old man really might’ve killed me that day!”
You shake your head, still laughing as you take your first bite of the paella. It’s absolute perfection, the flavors melding together in an incredible symphony on your tongue. “My dad really went after you?”
“Oh yeah,” Fernando chuckles, digging into his own bowl. “We were like two crazed animals back then whenever we were on the track together. Couldn’t stand each other.”
There’s a lull as you both focus on eating for a few minutes. When you’re pleasantly full and satiated, you sit back with a contented sigh.
“Nando, that was hands down the best paella I’ve ever had.”
“You flatter me too much.” He waves a hand, but you can tell he’s pleased. “Just wait until tomorrow, when Chef Nano teaches you how to make the perfect tortilla Española, eh?”
The idea of getting to spend more time with Nando and being cooked for brings a genuine, untroubled smile to your face for the first time in days. This is just what you needed to start healing from your recent heartbreak.
***
As you help Fernando clear the dishes, a comfortable silence settles between you. He pours you both generous glasses of his favorite Spanish rioja and you retire to the plush living room sofas.
Fernando settles into the overstuffed armchair across from you, stretching out his lean legs as he takes a sip of wine. “So, pequeña ...” He fixes you with that warm, piercing gaze. “What is it you really want? In a man, I mean.”
You pause, considering his question as you swirl the ruby liquid in your glass. “I … I’m not sure I know anymore, to be honest. I thought I had it all figured out with ...” You trail off, unable to even say your ex’s name without a pang of hurt lancing through you.
Fernando reaches over to pat your knee comfortingly. “Hey, no more tears, okay? That pendejo is in the past. I’m asking what your ideal partner would be like going forward. What do you want, need, deserve from a man?”
You take a fortifying sip of the bold, peppery wine before responding. “I think … more than anything, I just want to feel cherished. Valued. Like I’m the most important person in his world.”
Fernando’s expression softens. “Oh, pequeña. You have such a big, beautiful heart. Of course that’s what you want — to be adored and treated like the incredible woman you are.”
You duck your head, warmth blooming in your cheeks at his praise. “I don’t know, Nando. Maybe I’m just being naive or asking for too much ...”
“Claro que no!” He leans forward, pinning you with an intense look. “You’re allowed to want those things, pequeña. You’re allowed to be selfish when it comes to your heart and what you need to be truly, deeply happy.”
His words resonate somewhere deep within you and you find yourself nodding slowly. “You’re right. I am allowed to want someone who makes me their whole world and never takes me for granted, aren’t I?”
“Exactamente.” Fernando reaches over to grasp your hands, his calloused fingers engulfing yours. “And let me tell you — any man who doesn’t give you that is un verdadero idiota. You deserve to be cherished, worshipped, put up on a pedestal every single day.”
His dark eyes burn with conviction, lips pressed into a serious line. You find yourself unable to look away, mesmerized by the sheer intensity of his words and manner.
“You deserve everything, pequeña,” he continues in a low, gravelly tone. “A man who makes you his whole priority, who loves you with every fiber of his being. Someone who will lay the world at your feet.”
Fernando reaches up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over the apple of your cheekbone reverently. The calloused pad of it sends a shiver racing down your spine.
“Someone who looks at you and can scarcely breathe for how lucky, how blessed they are to have you in their life ...”
His face is so close to yours now, his warm breath caressing your lips. You’re completely transfixed, body thrumming with barely restrained tension and … anticipation?
Fernando’s next words are barely more than a hoarse rumble. “I will cherish you, pequeña. Always. Allow me to show you how a real man adores the woman he loves.”
And then his mouth is on yours, hot and insistent and tasting of wine and desire. You gasp into the kiss, frozen for a split second before melting against him, kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands slide up to tangle in the soft strands at the nape of his neck as he angles his head, deepening the heated exchange.
Fernando groans low in his throat, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. His large, nimble hands come up to frame your face, holding you in place as he takes his time thoroughly exploring your mouth, nibbling at your lips, stroking his talented tongue against yours in a way that has you whimpering into him.
He pulls away slightly and you chase his lips with a soft keen of protest. Fernando chuckles darkly, nosing along your jaw.
“Patience, pequeña,” he rumbles against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “As sweet as that gorgeous mouth is, there are so many other parts of you I’ve been longing to taste ...”
A full-body shudder wracks you at his words, at the sheer need and promise lacing his tone. Part of you is stunned by how quickly the atmosphere between you has shifted, how easily you fell into his passionate embrace.
But a much larger part — the part that has admired and idolized this man since you were knee-high — is utterly intoxicated. Delirious with the knowledge that the love you’ve secretly harbored for Fernando for years is, impossibly, reciprocated.
His mouth is trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the column of your throat and you tilt your head back with a wanton moan, reveling in the rasp of his day-old stubble against your sensitized skin.
“N-Nando ...” You try to put a protesting note in your voice, but it comes out a pleading whine instead. “Are you sure about this? I’m … I’m just a kid to you.”
He rears back to pin you with a look so full of naked want it makes you squirm. “You stopped being a kid a long time ago, pequeña,” he growls. “I’ve been watching you grow into this gorgeous, fiery woman and it’s taken everything in me not to take you into my arms like this until now.”
His hands roam down to palm your waist, fingers flexing possessively against the dip of your sides. You’re breathless, dizzy, wondering if you’ve stumbled into some incredible, wildly realistic dream.
Because surely this — with your longtime crush, the older man you’ve harbored forbidden fantasies about pulling you flush against his strong frame and lavishing kisses up the side of your neck — cannot be real. Can it?
“It’s real, pequeña. So, so real,” Fernando croons, as if reading your mind. He frames your face again, searing you with another passionate kiss that steals your breath and chases away any remaining doubts. “Feel how real it is,” he murmurs, guiding your hands down to the firm evidence of his arousal straining against the soft denim.
You whimper into his mouth, tentatively palming the thick bulge. Fernando hisses in a sharp breath through his teeth and breaks the kiss to press his forehead to yours. His eyes are tightly shut, long lashes fanning across sunkissed skin.
“F-fuck, pequeña,” he chokes out in a ragged voice. “Been dreaming of those little hands on me for years.”
Something inside you shifts at his confession, like a dam of long repressed want and need cracking open. You suddenly feel bolder, empowered by the effect you’re having on this man — this god among men who you’ve put on a pedestal for so long.
Maintaining heated eye contact, you slowly drag your hand up the length of his erection in one firm stroke that has Fernando’s hips jerking up as he curses vehemently in Spanish.
“Like this?” You rasp, a blatant challenge in your tone as you repeat the motion.
Fernando’s eyes flash hungrily and then he’s surging forward again, capturing your lips in another punishing kiss that leaves you lightheaded and alight with lust.
“Just like that, mi amor,” he growls when he releases your mouth with a final nip at your lower lip. “Now it’s my turn to cherish you ...”
With that, he loops an arm behind your knees and rises in one smooth, powerful motion, hoisting you up into a secure bridal carry. You yelp in surprise, hands flying up to cling to his broad shoulders.
“Nando! What are you, mmph-”
Your protest is cut off by his mouth slanting over yours in another heated kiss. Fernando maneuvers you easily as he starts carrying you towards the staircase, hiking your dainty linen dress up around your thighs.
“I’m making good on my promise, pequeña,” he murmurs hotly against your swollen lips. “Bedroom. Now. Going to lay you out and cherish every sweet inch of that gorgeous body, just like you deserve.”
Unbidden, a soft whine slips from your throat at his heated words. You tighten your grip on his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle there as a fresh wave of arousal floods through you, hot and insistent.
Fernando chuckles darkly, adjusting his grip on you as he starts up the stairs. “That’s it, let me hear how much you want this too.”
You open your mouth to respond but only a needy whine escapes as Fernando hitches you higher in his arms, the movement causing delicious friction against your core.
“I want, ngh-” Your words dissolve into another needy noise as Fernando nips at the juncture of your neck and shoulder in reprimand.
“Use your words, pequeña,” he rumbles against your tingling skin. “Tell me what you want.”
You don’t have a chance to reply before he’s kicking open a door and striding into what must be the bedroom, depositing you gently onto the plush center of an enormous bed. Fernando looms over you, chest heaving as he rakes his heated gaze over your prone form in a way that makes you shudder.
“Nando, I … I want you,” you finally manage, fighting past your shyness to meet his burning stare. “Want you to cherish me, cherish every part of me, like you promised.”
Fernando’s eyes darken further at your words and he slowly, purposefully begins lifting his sweater, never looking away from you.
“Good girl,” he praises in that deep, gruff tone that has your thighs pressing together instinctively. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
He shrugs off the soft knit, revealing a toned, hair-dusted chest and abdominal muscles carved from years of intense athletic training. You can’t help but drink in the display of his powerful body as he reaches for the buckle of his belt.
Fernando doesn’t miss your frank appraisal, a cocky smirk tugging at his full lips. “Like what you see, pequeña?”
You bite your lip and give a small, shameless nod. His grin widens and with a few deft flicks of his wrist, Fernando’s belt is undone and sliding free of its loops. You watch, rapt, as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs in one smooth motion.
“Then no more teasing,” he promises in a low, heated rasp. “Tonight you’ll have as much of me as you can handle.”
With that, Fernando pushes his trousers and underwear down over his hips in one go, springing free in all his thick, flushed glory. Your eyes widen and you suck in a sharp breath at the sheer size of him, mouth going dry with naked want.
Fernando steps forward until he’s standing at the edge of the mattress, gloriously nude and incredibly aroused. He crouches down, bringing himself eye-level with your flushed face as he reaches out to gently take your hands in his calloused grip.
“Are you sure, pequeña?” He searches your gaze intently. “Because once I claim you, mark you as mine in every way … there’s no going back. I won’t ever let you go.”
His raw confession hangs in the heated air between you. You meet Fernando’s fiery gaze without faltering, threading your fingers through his in silent acceptance. His eyes blaze and then he’s surging up over you, capturing your mouth in another searing, all-consuming kiss as he slowly, reverently hikes your dress up and divests you of your last remaining garments.
You wind your arms around his thick neck, holding him close as Fernando settles between your splayed thighs with a low, guttural groan. He rears back just enough to pin you with another scorching look, stealing your breath.
“You’re mine now, pequeña,” he vows roughly, guiding his thick length to your slick entrance. “And I’m going to spend all night cherishing this sweet body, just like you deserve ...”
Fernando braces himself above you with one powerful forearm, using his free hand to grip your thigh and hitch your leg higher around his lean hips. You keen softly as the new angle allows him to sink even deeper, filling you up so deliciously.
He drops his forehead to yours, dark eyes locked on your parted lips as he starts rocking into you with slow, measured strokes. Each deliberate grind of his pelvis against yours has you whimpering, nails raking down the flexing planes of his back.
“That’s it, pequeña,” Fernando croons, punctuating his words with a sharp roll of his hips that has you crying out. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”
You try to muffle your sounds against his broad shoulder, but Fernando isn’t having it. He slides the hand not braced on the mattress up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head so your mouths are a hairsbreadth apart.
“No, no … I want to hear every gorgeous, needy little noise,” he rumbles, lips brushing yours with each scorching word. “Want to hear you begging for more of my cock, stretching you so perfectly ...”
A desperate whine slips free at his filthy words, your walls fluttering around his rigid length in defiant response. Fernando rewards you by capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his talented tongue teasing against yours as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.
You moan brokenly into his mouth, legs locking around his narrow waist as Fernando sets a rhythm of steady, pounding strokes. Each slick glide has you building higher and higher, pleasure bordering on overwhelming. It’s so much after so much time without, yet somehow not enough.
You tear your lips from his with a ragged gasp, throwing your head back against the pillows. “M-More, Nando! Please … ah!”
Fernando grunts in approval at your needy plea, hips snapping forward to bury himself deeper. “As you wish, pequeña ...”
He sits up further on his knees, using the new leverage to drive into you with increased force and intensity. The lewd noises of your joining fill the air — skin slapping against skin, your cries of pleasure mingling with Fernando’s low groans of exertion.
Part of you feels like you should be embarrassed by the wanton sounds spilling from your lips. But a much bigger part is just reveling in the indescribable feeling of being taken apart so thoroughly by this incredible man’s skilled body.
Fernando hooks an arm under one of your knees, nearly bending you in half as he leans down to mouth hot, openmouthed kisses from your collarbone up the slender column of your throat. You keen wildly, fingers spasming against the rippling muscles of his back.
“Do you want it harder, pequeña?” He growls the filthy words against the racing pulse point under your jaw. “Want Papi to fuck you just like the needy little girl you are?”
A choked whimper is all you can manage in response, rendered incoherent by his merciless onslaught against that sensitive cluster of nerves deep inside you.
Fernando’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk against the side of your neck and then he’s driving into you with renewed vigor, hips pistoning in short, brutally powerful snaps that quickly have you keening. Your nails leave stinging welts in their wake as they drag down Fernando’s glistening shoulders and back, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
“That’s it, taking me so well,” he grits out through clenched teeth, each word punctuated by a nasty grind of his hips that has you crying out. “Such a good girl for Papi, con esas caderas tan estrechas ...”
His dirty Spanish murmurs nearly do you in, shooting white-hot sparks of pleasure-pain arcing across your nerve endings. You swear your vision nearly whites out entirely when his calloused fingers find your swollen bud, stroking firmly in tight, rapid circles that have you keening.
That familiar, coiling tension is rapidly becoming too much to bear. You can feel your orgasm fast approaching, building and building with each punishing thrust into your greedy little hole and stroke against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves.
“Nando, Nando,” you pant, clutching desperately at his flexing biceps as your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably. “I’m gonna, ah, fuck, I can’t-”
Fernando’s response is a series of harsh Spanish curses that would make a sailor blush. His mouth crashes against yours in a searing, messy kiss, swallowing your cries as he fucks you right through your release.
Wave after relentless wave of excruciating ecstasy crashes over you. You tremble and wail into Fernando’s mouth, pulled taut as a bowstring as he milks every last exquisite pulse from you with those sharp, unforgiving snaps of his hips.
Just when you think the pleasure searing along every nerve ending will break you into pieces, Fernando’s rhythm falters. He rears back, baring his teeth in a feral snarl that sends a fresh shock of desire arrowing straight to your core.
“Going to fill you up now, pequeña,” he grits out in a gravelly tone laced with strain. “Make you nice and, ah mierda, messy with Papi’s cum ...”
The sheer filth of his words, combined with his furious tempo draws animalistic whimpers from deep in your chest. You lock your ankles at the small of his back, taking him deeper as he starts to lose control.
“Please, Nando!” You beg shamelessly, reaching up to dig your fingers into the straining chords of muscle in his back and shoulders. “Please cum inside me, wanna be yours, wanna-”
Fernando cuts off your fervent cries with a harsh growl and then he’s slamming home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills molten heat deep in your convulsing channel with a stream of strained Spanish curses.
You shudder and cry out at the incredible sensation of being filled so completely, holding him flush to you while he pulses and throbs. Fernando captures your lips in another searing kiss, fucking his tongue into your mouth in time with the shallow rolls of his hips as he spends himself.
Just when you think the incredible intensity of his release will never end, the shrill trill of a ringtone shatters the sweaty, panting silence of the bedroom.
Fernando goes rigid above you, finally breaking the fevered kiss with a curse that shoots straight to your over-sensitized core.
“Fucking hell, now?”
His tone is one of pure annoyance as his darkly tousled head whips towards the nightstand where his mobile is ringing incessantly. One large hand flexes against the sheets beside your head, ready to simply ignore the call.
Until, that is, he sees the caller ID and his entire demeanor shifts from one of irritation to something more sheepish. He immediately sits up on his haunches, the movement tugging at your overstuffed, abused entrance in the most delicious way and drawing a helpless whimper from you.
Fernando fixes you with a heated look, plush lower lip caught between his teeth as he drinks in your disheveled, satisfied state sprawled wantonly across his rumpled sheets. Only then does he make a sudden, aborted movement to grab the still-ringing phone, gaze flickering down to where you’re obscenely joined.
“Don’t you dare pull out,” you pant in warning, clenching down hard around him as he shifts to reach for the mobile. Fernando groans explosively at the vice-like grip, arm falling back to brace himself against the mattress.
“Insatiable,” he accuses with a dark chuckle. He somehow manages to snag the still-trilling phone without dislodging himself and you shamelessly squeeze down even tighter in petty retaliation. Fernando tosses you a smoldering glare that makes heat lick along your nerve endings before he finally answers.
“Hola?” His deep voice is rougher than usual, gravelly from the thoroughly ravished state you’ve put him in.
“Fernando! Mate, it’s me.” Your father’s crisp Aussie tone immediately filters through the speaker and you inadvertently clench down again in panic.
Fernando’s lips peel back in a mild wince before smoothing back into that trademark smug grin of his. He drops his free hand to splay possessively over your lower abdomen, thumb rubbing idle circles into the soft, oversensitized skin there as he regards you with dark, hooded eyes.
“Mark!” He greets your father with forced nonchalance, even as the pads of his calloused fingers dip dangerously close to where you’re still intimately joined. “What can I do for you?”
There’s a pregnant pause during which you can practically picture the slight frown creasing your dad’s brow at Fernando’s strange tone. “Er, sorry to bother you, Nando. I was just ringing to see if my daughter made it to you alright?”
You suck in a sharp breath, eyes going wide as Fernando’s lips quirk up in a devilish smirk. Instead of answering right away, he drags the tip of one finger agonizingly slowly through your damp curls in a wordless warning.
Biting your lip to stifle a moan, you obediently stop clenching your internal muscles, allowing Fernando to sink that few extra incredible inches back inside you with a roll of his hips. His eyes burn with smug satisfaction when you keen softly at the feeling of being so deliciously full.
“She arrived safe and sound,” Fernando finally replies, voice gone low and rough in a way that has your thighs trying to clench instinctively. He holds you open by digging the heel of his palm against your mound, lips twitching when you whimper. “I’m taking very … very good care of her. You don’t need to worry.”
Another pause from your father’s end, this one even longer. You can picture the perplexed furrow in his brow deepening as he tries to figure out the strange undercurrent in Fernando’s tone.
“Right … well, good then. I just wanted to check in and make sure she got there okay after that whole mess with her asshole of an ex.”
You shudder at the memory, hips shifting restlessly against Fernando’s calloused palm in a plea for friction, pressure, anything. He simply watches you squirm with darkly glittering eyes, lazily rubbing his thumb in soothing little circles just below your navel.
“Trust me,” Fernando finally rumbles, voice gone low and graveled in a way that sends a shiver of desire arcing down your spine. “Your little girl is being very well looked after, in every way.”
Your cheeks burn hot at the blatant innuendo lacing his words. Fernando’s smirk widens, like he enjoys seeing you so flustered, before he continues in a tone of exaggerated innocence. “She’s been … quite the handful, really, but I don’t mind.”
Your breath hitches in your throat and you shoot him a betrayed look, clenching reflexively around the thick length still sheathed snugly inside you. Fernando arches one artfully sculpted brow as if in challenge, using his free hand to firmly grip one of your thighs and wrench your legs obscenely further apart in clear retaliation.
You muffle a whimper into the sheets as the new position allows him to grind deeper, that delicious friction quickly unraveling your will to stay quiet. You can already feel the coil of need building rapidly once more with each shallow roll of Fernando’s hips.
“What was that?” Your dad’s mildly bewildered voice suddenly crackles over the line, jarring you back to the reality of the situation.
Cheeks burning with a mixture of arousal and mortification, you blindly grasp for one of the pillows to muffle the series of pitiful noises now spilling past your lips as Fernando ups the intensity of his thrusts.
He leans in closer until the two of you are practically nose-to-nose, teeth sinking into that plush lower lip when you instinctively tighten around him like a velvet vise. Fernando’s eyes roll back briefly before fixing back on you, dark and fathomless as the depths of the Mediterranean.
“Nothing to worry about over here,” he pants through gritted teeth, one hand leaving its bruising grip on your thigh to curl around the back of your neck and pull you into a searing, filthy kiss designed to swallow any incriminating sounds. “Like I said. Just … taking very good care of your little girl.”
There’s one final confused little hum from your father before the line clicks off with a hollow beep. Fernando instantly drops the phone and slants his mouth hungrily over yours once more, all thoughts of the call instantly forgotten as he resumes fucking up into you with renewed vigor.
“My little girl, aren’t you pequeña?” He grates against your lips, punctuating each word with a scorching grind of his hips that has sparks bursting behind your eyelids. “Going to be a good girl and cum all over Papi’s cock again, sí?”
You can only nod wildly in agreement, nails raking down his broad back as that incredible tension inside you winds tighter and tighter. Fernando swallows your cries with his wicked, talented mouth, until finally you go rigid in his arms, back arched as your release rockets through you like a shockwave.
This time Fernando doesn’t even attempt to stifle your hoarse, animalistic keening, merely rearing back to watch in fascination as your complexion colors and your eyes roll back. He growls your name like a prayer, hips snapping erratically as he uses your convulsive flutters to chase his own high. Fernando’s chiseled features contort in pleasure, teeth sinking into his own lip hard enough to draw blood when you bear down with the vise-like strength of your release.
“F-Fuck … gonna … gonna fill you up again,” he grits out, thick cock jerking deep inside your molten depths. “Make you … gonna ah … make you mine forever this time, pequeña ...”
The gravelly promise in his tone somehow penetrates the sweaty, lust-hazed cocoon surrounding you. Your eyes fly open just in time to witness Fernando’s own clenched shut, jaw dropped in a growl as he buries himself to the hilt with one final, bruising grind of his pelvis.
You cry out at the incredible sensation of his release flooding your already stuffed channel with scorching ropes of thick seed. Fernando lets out a shuddering moan of pure gratification, hips working in short, shallow thrusts to pump every last pulse of his sticky essence into your greedy little womb.
When the last tremor of his climax has wrung through him, he drops bonelessly on top of you in a sweaty, panting tangle of sated limbs. You whimper quietly at the delicious feeling of his weight pinning you to the mattress, his softening length still lodged snugly inside as the two of you bask in the afterglow.
Fernando nuzzles into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pressing lazy, opened-mouthed kisses to your slick, overheated skin. His talented fingers trace abstract patterns up and down your sides, touch reverent as his gravelly voice rumbles against you.
“Going to get you nice and full, pequeña. Fill you up again and again until my baby takes ...”
A violent shudder wracks through you at the filthy promise in his words. Fernando chuckles darkly, gathering you closer against his sweat-slicked chest as his hand drifts down to cup your lower abdomen with tender possessiveness.
“That’s it, let it sink in,” he croons, fingertips rubbing in gentle circles. “My seed taking root deep inside this sweet little womb, putting a baby in your belly ...”
He punctuates the words with a firm press of his palm that has you gasping, walls fluttering greedily around the thick shaft still impaling you. Fernando makes a noise of deep approval low in his throat.
“Going to keep you just like this,” he vows in a tone that brooks no argument, hot and heavy against the sensitive shell of your ear. “Barefoot and pregnant in my bed, that gorgeous body swollen and glowing with my hijo ...”
You whimper at the image his words conjure up — your belly rounded and stretched taut with Fernando’s child, heavy breasts leaking as you cradle his son or daughter. Fernando husks out a laugh at your reaction, nosing along the line of your jaw until you meet his heated gaze.
“You like that idea, don’t you pequeña?” His eyes glitter with a mixture of desire and predatory satisfaction. “Being tied to me forever, in the most permanent way possible?”
You can only nod dumbly, suddenly rendered mute by the depths of your own yearning. Of course you want that — to carry this incredible man’s legacy inside you for all the world to see. To belong to him, completely.
Fernando rumbles his approval against your swollen lips, cupping the back of your head to angle your mouth for a tender, lingering kiss. When he finally breaks away, you try to chase his mouth with a breathless whimper of protest.
“Shh, patience, pequeña,” he murmurs indulgently, thumb stroking over your slick lower lip. His eyes are dancing with dark promise. “You’ll have plenty of time to take your fill of me in the coming months while I breed you over ...”
He kisses the words into the hollow of your throat, teeth grazing the rapid flutter of your pulse point.
“... and over ...” Fernando rolls you onto your back in one smoothly powerful motion, settling his weight over you as he lips trail a blazing path down your abdomen.
“... and over again.” His tongue dips briefly into your navel before he nuzzles lower, nose nudging through your damp curls until his warm breath ghosts over your overstimulated sex. You suck in a ragged gasp, thighs trembling with anticipation as Fernando glances up at you from under those ridiculously long lashes.
“Until it finally takes,” he finishes with a wicked grin before ducking down to swipe one firm lick through your folds. You nearly black out from the electric shock of pleasure-pain, broken cries echoing through the bedroom as Fernando sets to work thoroughly mapping every intimate inch of you with that devilishly skilled mouth and tongue.
True to his filthy promise, Fernando keeps you until the first rosy hints of dawn are just beginning to lighten the horizon outside, thoroughly ravishing your helpless body over and over again until you’re boneless and incoherent with satiation.
It’s only when the first few birds have begun to chirp their morning songs that he finally relents, blanketing you with his solid weight one last time. Fernando’s lips are kiss-swollen as they trail up the line of your throat to find yours in one more long, thorough kiss that leaves you totally plundered.
“Sleep now, pequeña,” he rumbles against your parted mouth, gathering you close as his hand drifts down to splay possessively over the slight tautness of your lower abdomen. “Let my release take nice and deep inside you ...”
You slip into unconsciousness to the sensation of Fernando’s calloused fingertips rubbing soothing circles over your skin and the imprinted promise of his low, sleep-roughened vows.
“I’m going to put a baby in you, pequeña. Going to breed you so full of my children until you’re round and glowing with them … that’s a promise.”
***
Six Months Later
Fernando can’t keep the swell of pride and possessiveness from blooming in his chest as he guides you through the paddock with a supportive hand on the small of your back. His dark gaze keeps flickering down to admire the swell of your belly peeking out beneath the flowing summer dress you’ve chosen for today.
He feels like a conquering king surveying his latest prize as you waddle adorably at his side, the golden sunlight caressing your features and lending a rosy flush to your glowing complexion. Fernando has never seen a more beautiful, ethereal sight than you in this moment — rounded with his child, your body transformed by the life blossoming within.
His hand subconsciously moves to cup the subtle curve of your belly as you pause to allow a team member to pass. Fernando feels a fresh surge of scorching desire and smug satisfaction race through his veins when you instinctively cover his hand with yours, cradling his palm against the taut swell.
“Easy there, pequeña,” he rumbles with a wolfish grin, leaning in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. “We’re in public, remember? Wouldn’t want to give these pendejos an eyeful of how insaciable my little girl has become since getting knocked up ...”
A delightful shiver visibly ripples through you at his words, those gorgeous eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before fixed back on him blown wide and dark with rekindled want. Fernando lets out a low chuckle of approval, arm winding around your waist to pull you flush against his side.
Just then, a familiar figure comes striding around the corner, brows low and thunderous as they zero in on the embrace Fernando has you locked in. Mark Webber falters mid-step as he takes in the rather obvious changes to your body, chin dropping in a comical picture of dumbstruck shock.
Fernando can’t resist angling the two of you forward just enough to emphasize the prominent curve of your belly straining against the flowy fabric of your summer dress. He watches your father’s expression morph from surprise, to confusion, then slowly … realization as the pieces begin to click into place.
Within seconds, Mark’s eyes have narrowed to slits of rage, mouth curling back in a snarl of anger as he picks up his pace and stalks towards the pair of you. Fernando’s own smug expression slips, features settling into a hard mask as he angles his body slightly in front of yours on instinct.
“You motherfucking piece of shit-” Your father snarls, face taking on an alarming reddish hue as he rears back and swings at Fernando.
Fernando manages to sidestep the worst of the blow at the last second, feeling only a glancing impact against his left cheekbone before Mark closes in again with balled fists raised. Behind him, you let out a strangled cry of dismay, reaching out helplessly to grasp at the back of his shirt.
“Dad, no! Fernando, please-”
But Fernando is already sinking into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and weight evenly distributed. He blocks another wild swing from Mark with ease, allowing the Australian’s momentum to carry him past so Fernando can land a swift, open-handed punch against the side of his head.
The sharp retaliatory crack has Mark stumbling sideways, snarling like an enraged animal. For one brief, wildly intense moment, the two former rivals simply square off — sizing one another up like they’ve done a hundred times before on various circuits when they were both still competing.
From anyone else, Fernando might have been able to laugh off this overreaction, shrug it aside as the misguided anger of a hotblooded father learning his young daughter is now expecting. But this is Mark Webber — a man who has proven himself as fiery and formidable an opponent as they come.
Fernando won’t admit it aloud, but a tiny thrill of excitement races through him at the prospect of a proper throwdown with his old nemesis turned friend. He throws you a quick glance over his shoulder, assessing if he needs to move you further away before the situation escalates.
You surprise him by shaking your head adamantly, those beautiful eyes blazing with protective fury of your own as you plant yourself squarely in between the two men.
“Fernando, don’t hurt him,” you plead, gaze flickering between him and the bristling Aussie now clambering back to his feet. “He’s just-”
“Being a bloody psychopathic bastard,” Mark spits, wiping a hand across his rapidly swelling lip. His hateful glare lands accusingly on the prominent swell of your middle. “Fucking hell , Nando. She’s just a kid-”
Fernando feels his own temper ratcheting up several notches at the venom and dismissal lacing the other man’s tone. He takes an aggressive step forward, forcing you back behind the shield of his powerful frame.
“Don’t talk about her like she isn’t here to defend herself,” Fernando growls, unconcerned that they’re rapidly drawing an audience from the swarm of crew personnel surrounding them.
He arches a challenging brow at your father’s scathing glower. “What’s wrong? Upset that while you were off galivanting around the globe, I was putting a baby in your daughter’s belly?”
Mark lets out an outraged roar, lurching forward to throw another wild haymaker that Fernando easily ducks under. You cry out in distress, hands coming up to grip at Fernando’s biceps from behind as you try to bodily pull him away from the furious Australian’s reach.
“Both of you, stop!” Your shrill voice cuts through the tense alleyway, causing both men to pause for a split-second and glance towards you. “Nando, don’t provoke him! And you-” You aim an accusatory finger at your seething father. “Lay one more hand on Fernando and I swear to god-”
Whatever heated threat you were preparing goes unvoiced as a sudden aura of pain visibly ripples across your features, brow furrowing and lips parting on a pained gasp. Your hands instinctively fly down to cradle your belly, entire body locking up with tension.
Fernando’s heart leaps into his throat as he recognizes the clear signs of distress from months spent doting upon your every subtle twinge and discomfort. Immediately, his previous temper fades into a dull, distant roar easily overshadowed by the all-consuming need to ensure your well-being.
“Pequeña?” He’s at your side in an instant, gripping your upper arms to steady you as a light sheen of perspiration blooms on your brow. “Breathe through it, mi amor … just breathe, okay?”
“I-I’m fine,” you manage in a tight voice. “Just a twinge. The excitement is probably too mu-ahh!”
You gasp again, nails digging punishingly into Fernando’s forearms as your knees threaten to buckle. All hints of masculine posturing flee his mind as Fernando smoothly sweeps you up into a secure bridal carry, heedless of the soft whimpers of discomfort now trickling past your parted lips.
He locks eyes with a stunned Mark over your bent crown, gaze impassive and steady. “You heard her. The excitement is too much. We’re leaving.”
Without waiting for a response, Fernando swivels on his heel and marches back the way you’d originally come with you cradled protectively against his chest. He keeps his strides measured and unhurried, but still manages to put a fair amount of distance between the pair of you and your father’s petulant anger in a matter of moments.
Once you’ve rounded a quiet corner alcove, Fernando gently lowers you to a relatively secluded stack of equipment crates, bracing your lower back and guiding you into a seated position.
“Wait here,” he murmurs against your hairline, dropping a fleeting kiss to the rapidly dampening strands stuck to your brow. Fernando’s fingers ghost down to cradle your belly once more, silently assessing for any areas of increased tension. “I’ll be back in just a moment with some water and a physio, alright?”
You nod weakly, squirming to rest back against the cool metal behind you as another pained grimace flits across your features. Fernando feels his heart clench at the wretched, lost expression clouding your eyes.
Cupping your cheek, he tilts your chin up until you meet his heated gaze. “Don’t look so afraid, pequeña. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”
Fernando leans in until his nose brushes against yours, allowing the familiar closeness and the scent of his cedar and bergamot cologne to soothe you. “Our little one is just reminding us who’s boss, that’s all. But Papi’s here … I’ll take care of both of you, sí?”
You manage a weak smile at that, some of the tension bleeding from your delicate features as you nod against his palm. Fernando presses one more lingering kiss to your brow before reluctantly pulling away.
“I’ll be right back, mi vida. Just breathe deeply for me in the meantime.”
With one final reassuring caress to your belly, Fernando turns on his heel and strides back out into the bustling paddock area. His jaw is set in a tense line, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he mentally catalogs which team staff he needs to track down.
Rounding a corner, Fernando very nearly barrels straight into the rigid form of your father standing there with arms crossed, clearly waiting to waylay him. The Aussie’s expression is thunderous, eyes blazing with hurt and undisguised fury.
“So that’s it then?” Mark bites out in a tone of barely restrained aggression. “You’ve gone and knocked up my little girl. My own daughter, Nando ...”
Fernando holds up a dismissive hand, in no mood to allow your father’s misplaced anger to provoke another confrontation — not when you’re so clearly in distress. “Don’t start with me again.” His tone is low, brooking no argument. “Your daughter is safe and being well looked after, that’s all that matters right now.”
With that, he moves to sidestep around Mark, only to find his path blocked by the other man’s broad chest as he steps directly into Fernando’s space. The former World Champion narrows his eyes warningly, feeling his temper ratcheting back up in the face of such insolence.
“Look, you arrogant Spanish prick,” Mark growls, lips peeling back in a menacing sneer. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-”
Fernando abruptly cuts him off with a harsh bark of humorless laughter, dark eyes glittering dangerously. “A game?” He shakes his head slowly, expression one of vaguely disbelieving contempt. “You really think that’s all this is to me? Getting one up on you by deflowering your little girl and leaving her pregnant, alone, and disgraced?”
The other man flinches almost imperceptibly at the crass words, clearly thrown by Fernando’s frank disdain. The Spaniard presses on relentlessly. “Any man who would treat a situation like this so flippantly doesn’t deserve to consider themselves a real man at all — let alone a father.”
Mark’s face has turned an alarming shade of puce, whether from shame or sheer unchecked rage Fernando neither knows nor cares. He simply crowds further into the Australian’s space, heedless of how their chests nearly brush with each harsh exhalation.
“Make no mistake, I love that woman and the child she carries more than life itself,” Fernando states with conviction, cadence low and gravelly. “If you’re asking whether I intend to be there for them both as a partner, as a father … my answer is simple.”
He pauses just long enough to allow the weight of his next words to truly sink in.
“For as long as your daughter and my children will have me, you couldn’t pry me away from their sides with a fucking crowbar.”
Fernando holds your father’s seething gaze for one final beat, satisfaction lancing through him at seeing the other man seemingly robbed of his righteous anger. With a curt nod, he finally moves to brush past the speechless Australian without another word —intent on fetching the physio like he had originally set out to do.
Because in the end, Mark Webber’s approval means less than nothing to Fernando. All that matters is rushing back to your side and ensuring your safety and comfort. You and the new life blossoming within you are his entire world now.
As if to reaffirm the point, you suddenly appear around the corner, one hand braced protectively under the swell of your abdomen.
“Nando,” you breathe in a tremulous voice, blindly reaching for him. “The little one misses you ...”
Fernando instantly abandons all thoughts of confronting Mark, or retrieving a physio, or anything else as he rushes to gather you up in his arms once more. He cradles you tenderly to his chest as your fingers twist almost convulsively in the fabric of his Hugo Boss shirt, dark eyes wide and pleading.
Fernando glances down at you cradled protectively in his arms, heart clenching at the distressed furrow of your brow and shallow, panting breaths.
Readjusting his grip, he dips his head to murmur a string of soothing Spanish endearments against your sweat-dampened hairline as he carries you through the winding labyrinth of the paddock. His strides are measured but purposeful, not rushing — he needs to get you somewhere quiet and comfortable to recover from the ordeal.
Finally, Fernando spots a secluded alcove tucked away behind a cluster of tires. He quickly guides you over and gently lowers you onto an emptied workbench, cocooning you against his broad chest.
“There, there, pequeña,” he croons, lips brushing your brow. “Just breathe nice and deep for Papi, just like we practiced ...”
You nod weakly, fingers reflexively flexing against the solid planes of Fernando’s abdomen as you struggle to pull in deep gulps of air. He deftly tugs the neckline of your summer dress aside to expose more of your flushed skin, using the hem to dab away the perspiration beading on your chest and throat.
“That’s it, mi vida,” he praises in that dark, soothing timbre. “Just like that, easy does it ...”
Slowly, the tension bleeds from your features as the worst of the discomfort subsides. Fernando doesn’t dare loosen his supportive embrace, nor does he tear his increasingly heated gaze away from your parted lips as each measured exhale puffs across his skin.
“Better now?” He murmurs, thumb tracing the delicate arch of your cheekbone reverently. A rosy blush stains your complexion when you nod meekly, lashes fanning across those glorious cheekbones.
“Good girl,” Fernando rumbles, helpless not to drink in the gorgeous picture you make — cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with lingering stardust. He grips your jaw in a firm caress, tilting your chin up until your gazes lock.
“Because I must admit,” he husks softly, gaze darkening to molten whiskey. “Seeing you like this, with my child safe inside you … has me feeling quite possessive, pequeña.”
You shudder visibly at his words, tongue darting out to wet those plump lips in a blatant show of want. Fernando doesn’t miss the subtle gesture, allowing his gaze to dip briefly to track the slick path your tongue carves before fixing back on your rapidly dilating pupils.
“Would you like that, hmm?” He lowers his voice to a sensual rumble, skimming his thumb across your lower lip in a wordless command for access. “Having Papi show you just how adored, how cherished you and our little one inside you truly are?”
A whimper catches in the back of your throat as you readily accept the gentle press of Fernando’s calloused digit between your parted lips. Your eyes flutter shut on a trembling exhale as he slowly begins to glide the thick pad of his thumb across that heavenly softness, careful not to scrape the sensitive skin with his nail.
“That’s it, pequeña,” he growls, a tad hoarse as desire visibly burns behind those long lashes. “Suckle for me, let me take care of you both nice and proper ...”
Fernando rocks forward ever so slightly, allowing the swollen curve of your belly to brush against his solid abs with each tiny shuddering breath you drag in through your nose. He keeps up the lazy, hypnotic strokes of his thumb until you’re completely transfixed — hips shifting restlessly against his thighs and soft, muffled mewls escaping past the seal of your swollen lips.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice pitched low enough to rasp straight through you and ignite every raw nerve ending. “So sweet and responsive for Papi … going to reward that gorgeous little mouth in just a moment, I promise.”
You whine wantonly around his thumb in response, eyes fluttering back open to reveal pupils blown wide with naked yearning. Fernando chuckles indulgently, thumb tracing the delicate bow of your lower lip one final time before retreating fully.
“So eager,” he tuts without any real admonishment. Leaning in close, he angles his head to brush kiss-swollen lips against the outer shell of your ear. “Don’t fret, pequeña. I’ll take such good care of both of you right here, right now ...”
Fernando drops a lingering series of kisses along the line of your jaw, letting his lush mouth trail lower and lower with each heated murmur.
“Will remind you exactly who you belong to … who made you … who put this child in your belly ...”
His final words are an exhale ghosting out across your thundering pulse. Fernando immediately latches on with his teeth, nipping and sucking a series of stinging, possessive marks into your sensitized flesh that has you arching against him with a strangled cry of pure bliss.
Out here, cloaked in the shadow of the paddock where anyone could stumble across the two of you — your father included — and discover just how thoroughly Fernando has claimed you. The taboo thrill of it all is utterly intoxicating.
As your trembling fingers find purchase in his clothes, dragging him nearer with insistence, Fernando feels that familiar molten lick of possessive pride unfurl deep in his core. You are his now, fully and completely — mind, body, and soon … family.
Just the way it was always meant to be.
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fairlyang · 11 days ago
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Ready 🕷️
w/c: 712
pairing: husband!miguel o’hara x wife!reader
tags: 18+ smut. halloween special<3 giving out candy, he’s thinkin, breeding kink, pregnancy, unprotected sex (duh), creampies, dirty talk
kinktober masterlist | main masterlist
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being miguel’s wife where you loved decorating for the holidays and being as extra as you could. so for halloween you found those cute inflatables to put in the front yard so the kids would know you’d be giving away candy.
you found such a perfect couples costume he found it hard to say no to because of your excited face.
he heard the doorbell ring and the trick or treaters have started for the night. he went downstairs from getting changed to find you bending down holding the bowl of candy to small kids.
you were complimenting them on their superhero costumes then waved goodbye. you shut the door and turned around to find your husband as handsome as ever.
“a real shame about that wig…” you joked and stepped forward to him, fixing the orange ascot.
“you’re fucking crazy if you thought i was gonna wear a blonde wig…” he scoffs making you chuckle.
“well it seems i’m just more committed to the cause then.” you tease and pull away.
the doorbell rang once again and you quickly went towards the door, opening and gasping at the little princesses in front of you. their little hands reached into the bowl and it warmed your heart.
miguel was watching you closely, eyes softening and a small smile appearing on his lips just imagining you as a mom. you’d be the best, the most nurturing mom ever.
it’d be the cutest thing to have a daughter and for her to look just like you, your mini me.
this conversation has been talked about plenty of times, always going back and forth if you’re really ready.
but watching you be so sweet and affectionate tugged on his heartstrings way more than he expected. it usually did anyway but tonight was just different.
he was ready.
you closed the door and turned to look at him again, this time his facial expression was much different.
he looked at you in your daphne blake costume, looking so gorgeous in that purple dress and matching heels, that not so cheap looking wig and he knew what you’d be doing after all the candy was done.
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it was a brutal two hours later that he was finally able to take you into your bedroom, lift your dress up, rip your pink tights, and ensure you’re coming out of the bedroom pregnant.
he had already came inside you once doggy style on the edge of the bed, then had you ride him which had you tired too quickly so you were just grinding back and forth. you quickly came up with the bright little idea to spell his name with your hips repeatedly and by the third time he realized what you were doing, having no choice but to cum again.
after placing a towel beneath you so the cum can leak out for a few seconds is when he decides to flip you onto your stomach.
so now you were fucked out of your mind, makeup destroyed, wig barely intact as he fucked you prome bone style but making sure his body was barely hovering over yours. you were feeling so sensitive but at the same time didn’t want him pulling out because he was fucking you so good.
he was hitting the right spot with every thrust, going even deeper than before, practically hitting your cervix as you moaned out for him, “fuck baby- p-please-“
he moaned into your ear then kissing the side of your neck as he felt his cock twitching again. if this didn’t make you pregnant, he’d just have to try again tomorrow. the whole day if that’s what it takes.
he was determined and mind set.
“gonna be so pretty when you’re pregnant baby.” he grunted and you clenched against him.
you both moaned, going back and forth with dirty words, “yeah? gonna make sure you fill me up baby?”
“it’s what you deserve, my love.”
“please don’t stop-“
“c’mon, let’s have that family we’ve dreamed of.”
“please give it to me-“
you turned your head to kiss him and with the sloppiest of thrusts and slow kiss, he spilled his last load into you murmuring sweet i love yous as you both came hoping three rounds would be enough
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gilverrwrites · 5 months ago
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Just soft sweet love making with vulnerable boyfriend Jason Todd where he feels comfortable letting himself be.
pleasee
He needs love and pampering!!!🥺❤️
AN: You can probably tell that I’m in the middle of re-reading RHATO Rebirth. This may have come out longer and a teeny bit more tough love than I had planned, might do a fluffy-fluff version where Jason is a bit more involved at a later point haha CWs: Fluffy smut, restraining but not really, unprotected p in v sex, F!Reader
18+ only, MINORS DNI
“Stay still.” “Why? So you can kiss my boo-boos?” “Precisely.”
Body worship, where maybe it started out as a joke or a challenge, or maybe he just needs it. Where you ghost your lips over every curve and crevice of his body, the soft parts, the hard muscles, every freckle and scar. Expressing your adoration for him, your devotion to who he is, who he was, who he will be without saying a single word.
Touching him in all the ways you know make him feel good, ways that ease his tension. Lightly scratching your fingernails against his scalp. Lapping your tongue against the sensitive spots at the nape of his neck, behind his ear until he’s cursing and rocking his hips for friction.
Holding his hands above his head as you grind on him, not to restrain him, he could break out of your grasp at any time. It’s just to remind him that he doesn’t have to be in control all the time. To remind him that he can lay back, relax, and enjoy the feel of your tight pussy around his cock without having to prove something.
That you’re not just there for the rough and ready and brutal parts of him, you’re there for the slow and soft and steady too, even if he’s not come to terms with those parts of himself yet.
“Fuck, Jay, you’re amazing.” “Yeah? I’m not doin’ anything.” “No, I mean you’re amazing.”
You can tell his ingrained masculinity wants to bite back, to stifle his growing abashment with a witty comment or by throwing a compliment back at you, so you lean in, greedily kissing his lips, exploring his mouth with your tongue, slowing but never once stopping the pumping of your hips. You kiss, and touch, and ride him until he’s red in the face, until his eyes roll back, and his jaw grows slack. Until he has no choice but to wither, and whine and listen to your praise.
“Does that feel good? I want you to feel good, you deserve to feel good.”
“You’re the best man I know, Jay.”
On and on you applaud him, as clearly as you can manage through your own arousal, as loudly as you can muster, to be as crystal clear as possible.
“I love you, Jason Todd.” And then he bites his lip, hard. Slips out of your grip to hold you tight to his chest as his cock twitches inside of you, filling you with ropes of red hot cum amidst a chorus of “Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou” and an abundance of breathy, open-mouthed kisses.
You don’t care that he came first, he’ll make it up to you tenfold, that’s just the kind of man he is, that’s one of many reasons why you love him, but that doesn’t matter now, because you already know you love him, what matters is that he knows he's loved.
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xqueen-of-disasterx · 1 month ago
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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 - 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒 - 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤
You could feel the cold hair around you, it was a cruel game but Natasha’s guilty pleasure too. She loved to hunt you through the forest only to have you on the ground right there and then. It drove her crazy, not knowing where you might be, not knowing how long it would take until she had you again. 
You were trying to walk as quiet as possible after all Natasha at made you walk barefoot through the cold  norwegian forest. To make it more interesting she had told you. You could feel her close, you can’t make a sound now. But you did slip on the wet soil, your body falling to the ground with a thud. 
Your ankle hurt as you tried to get on your feet again, and you slipped again. By the third time Natasha had got up with you. “Got you baby” She whispered, pushing you down on the soil, she kissed all over her face. She spread your legs groaning at the sight of your helpless body all ready for her. “You look so hot like that” She tore your shirt right off your chest, making your tits spill out. You cried out squirming under her touch, she reached under your skirt pulling it by side. “Stop fucking moving or it’s gonna hurt” She spat fiddling with her pants as she pulled them down to reveal her hard dick. 
You pushed at her shoulders as she stretched you open with her dick, tears streaming over her face “N-NAtasha too big”. She panted and set a brutal pace, her hips snapping on yours. “Fuck baby I got you now huh? You can't run from me” She pressed you down fucking you roughly snapping her hips forcing moans out of your raw throat. “I-I’m coming” You cried and got no response from her, she was far too gone in her own instinct. 
“I’m gonna breed your pussy so good make you all full and round with my seed” She cried her thrust more erratic as she emptied herself deep inside your stomach. She stood up to pull her pants up and buckle the belt. With gentle hands she wrapped you into her jacket and carried you back to her trailer. You nuzzled your head into her shoulder already forgetting about the painful ankle. 
@jolyssereed
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cupcakeslushie · 2 months ago
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First || Prev || …
Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!
Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.
They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.
One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.
The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.
So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.
Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.
Amnesia.
So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.
He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…
Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.
An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.
Everything was normal, physically.
That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.
Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.
A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.
They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.
Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.
But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.
Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.
The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.
Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.
No; leaving him alone was not an option.
Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.
Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.
Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.
While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.
Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.
“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”
“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”
“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”
“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”
“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”
“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”
“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”
“BOYS!”
Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.
“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.
“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”
“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.
Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.
“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”
The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.
Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.
“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”
His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.
It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.
Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.
Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.
Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”
Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.
Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.
“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”
The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.
“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”
Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.
Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).
Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.
Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.
In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.
Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.
But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.
Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.
It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.
Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.
Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.
His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.
After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.
They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.
Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.
He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.
Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.
He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.
“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.
At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.
The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.
“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”
It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.
“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.
“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”
Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.
With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.
“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”
Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.
“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”
“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.
“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”
Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.
“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”
It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”
He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.
Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.
Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.
“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.
Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.
“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.
“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”
Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”
Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.
He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.
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!!!SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN’T LISTENED TO THE VENGEANCE SAGA OF EPIC THE MUSICAL!!!
I find it really interesting that people are so upset about the Poseidon loss, using “it’s weird that a mortal beat a god” when the whole thing with gods in Greek mythology is that they’re parallels to humans. That’s why they have emotions, human anatomy, feel pain, and bleed (even if it is ichor that comes out). There are multiple cases of gods being beaten by humans, primarily demigods, but still humans—MORTALS. What makes them so powerful is their domain. Take that away? They’re practically powerless.
Poseidon is shown to be arrogant, claiming that the only reason he’s still hunting Odysseus (DESPITE killing his men, teaching his lesson, and even likely knowing about the brutal siren deaths) is because “the top dog can’t be seen letting his prey go. How else can I send the message that I’m a big dog? It’ll ruin my reputation!” He’s a cocky bastard, playing with his prey, telling Odysseus to get in the water because it’s more entertaining to him than just getting his revenge and killing him then and there. He talks like he’s never felt pain in his life and doesn’t think he ever will because “the top dog is untouchable”.
But he forgets that he needs his domain, needs his range to keep himself from losing. When Odysseus pulls the same trick with the wind bag (which he should’ve seen coming), he isn’t ready, because he’s never had to fight that fight. Odysseus has, and he has the anger to push himself farther. The god gets downed (which has happened many times with many gods as discussed earlier), and he still acts cocky. Odysseus opened the bag. He can’t leave. But that knowledge—knowledge that he’s stuck here and will eventually die anyway—allows Odysseus to make his decision. He can hurt Poseidon for as long as he’s capable of, make him suffer just as much because, hey, he’s going to die anyway, right?
Now, Poseidon has an out. He can get rid of the storm before Odysseus even lays a hand on him, let him go home, and flood Ithaca like planned. But he doesn’t, because he’s so in his own head that he doesn’t realize the position he’s in. And then Odysseus makes the first stab, and then the other. It hurts, even more because, like I said, Poseidon has probably never felt this pain before. And Odysseus doesn’t plan on stopping, not until Poseidon calls off the storm. He’ll go until his arms stop working, and if Poseidon hadn’t given in, he probably would’ve.
Poseidon can’t stop him either because the wounds are made before the others can heal. Does this punishment seem familiar? It should, because it’s the exact same one given to Prometheus by Zeus. Truthfully, it’s a punishment made for a god.
I should probably stop here because this has gone on way too long, but I do understand why some people might think it’s weird. We’re raised to believe that any god is untouchable, that they’re all-powerful and incapable of harm, especially at human hands. But that’s not Greek mythology. Gods aren’t capable of death, but they are capable of suffering, and a lot of them do. Just because the one suffering this time is one of the “big three” doesn’t mean it’s unrealistic.
Epic’s message isn’t the same as the original, and it never has been. It’s about what you’re willing to sacrifice, how far you’re willing to go for your own gain, and what the repercussions are when you do. Poseidon really kick started that message hard, and I think it’s poetic that it ends with him facing the outcome of that message himself.
Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves, but it’s not the same being on the receiving end, is it?
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hsunrry · 5 days ago
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best i’ve ever had // one shot
harry styles x fem!reader
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summary: you asked your best friend for unusual favor.
|| masterlist ||
words: ~1,1k
warnings: smut18+, praise, oral (m receiving)
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
you laid down on his bed on your back, closing your eyes, when you felt him laying down just on top of you with his whole weight, nuzzling his face in your neck. he’s your best friend since forever and you two are practically inseparable. “i’m tired.” he mumbled. you chuckled softly at his words.
“Harry?” you spoke after few seconds, thinking he fell asleep. he lifted his head up to look at you with sleepy expression. “we’re best friends for so long.” you hesitated for a moment. “can i have a weird request? you don’t have to agree.”
“anything, you know that.” he nodded slowly, lowering his face back to your neck, his hot breath causing goosebumps on your skin. “what is it?”
“so you know, when i was with this guy few months ago…” you started, chuckling right after. “god, this is so stupid.” he lifted his head up to look at you with confused expression.
“i’m sure it’s not, whatever it is, just say it.” he shrugged, poking your side. he went back to nuzzle into your neck.
“okay, so, when i was with him and i was giving him a head he was like… quiet? i don’t know, he came, obviously and he was telling me he was enjoying it, so i don’t know if it’s just some, uh, preference of mine that i like when guy is loud durning that and he just wasn’t the loud type, or if i’m just not good enough at it to make him loud.” you swallowed quietly.
“oh.” his face still in your neck. “you’re asking me if it’s normal that guy is quiet durning that?” he summarised.
“no, i’m just wondering if i’m good enough at it or if i’m that bad he wasn’t satisfied to even make a sound.” you shrugged. he lifted his head up to look at you.
“so, you want me to?…” he bit inside of his cheek nervously, looking at you expectantly.
“you don’t have to agree if it’s stupid for you and if you think it’ll change anything between us.” you said quickly. he looked at you for long moment, his expression soft and reassuring.
“it won’t change anything between us.” he said gently with a soft shrug. “i want to help you figure it out. i’ll be brutally honest.” he chuckled softly, but after that he went serious. “but only if you’re completely sure you want to do that. i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or awkward.”
“don’t worry about it, i won’t.” you chuckled. he smiled slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.
“okay then.” he sat up, standing up from the bed right after. “give me a minute.” he said, walking out from the room, probably to the bathroom. after few minutes he came back, his face slightly flushed. he sat down next to you. “okay, i washed myself.” he smiled. “i want you to do exactly what you did with him, okay?”
“yeah, got it.” you said with soft smile. “can you lay down then?” he nodded, laying down on his bed. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
“okay, i’m ready.” he said softly, trying to mask his nervousness with a smile.
“are you sure?” you asked last time.
“yes, i’m sure.” his voice firm, his eyes never leaving yours. “i promise, i’ll be honest and i won’t hold back anything.” he took deeper breath, preparing himself for what was about to happen. you took off his sweatpants, leaving him only in boxers. he looked down at himself, his heart racing in his chest. “okay…” he whispered, his eyes flicking back to meet yours. “go ahead.” he said, his voice trembling slightly. he inhaled sharply when you started palming him over thin material. “mhm.” he let out quiet moan. “it’s already good, y/n and you’re not doing much right now.” he muttered.
“is it?” you smiled softly, taking off his boxers when you felt he was rock hard and going to kneel between his thighs. he spread his legs wider in response, giving you more room to work with.
“you look so good like that.” he complimented, his voice already hoarse. you smiled softly, loving the fact that he was praising you and that he was giving you better reactions already than the guy you were with before. you wrapped your hand around his hardened flesh, starting to stroke slowly. your thumb went to spread pre-cum on his tip. his head fell back against the headboard and quiet groan escaped his lips as you stroked him. “oh fuck, y/n…” he gasped, his hips rocking slightly into your hand. “your hand feel good, so good.” his hands gripped the sheets slightly. you went down with your head, starting circling his tip with your tongue. he jolted at the sensation and he whimpered. his one hand went into your hair. “please, more.” satisfied with his reactions, you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking slightly and working with your tongue inside your mouth. his hips bucking slightly as you sucked on his cock. “fuck, y/n.” he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair. “yes, just like that.” he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as you went deeper on him, sucking and stroking the part you couldn’t reach with your mouth. his noises went more desperate. “your mouth feels incredible.” he panted, his free hand gripped the headboard behind his head. “you love sucking my cock, don’t you? such a good girl…” you moaned around him at his words, loving the comments and noises he was making. you started moving even faster, hollowing your cheeks inside to bring him even more pleasure. he cried out, his head snapping against headboard. “yes, yes, just like that! fuck, y/n, i’m getting close, so close!” he warned, gripping your hair slightly tighter. “don’t stop, please, don’t stop. i’m gonna cum.” you started moving even faster at his words. he let out loud, drawn-out moan, his body tensing as his hot sprouts went down your throat. he panted your name few times as his body shuddered with pleasure. you sucked him slowly through his orgasm, licking him clean and swallowing everything. he collapsed on the bed, his chest heaving with each breath. a lazy, satisfied smile spread across his face. “holy shit, that was incredible.” he murmured, his hand stroking gently through your hair. “you’re amazing, y/n. i don’t know what was wrong with this guy.”
“really?” you smiled, laying down next to him. he pulled you into his arms, holding you close.
“yes, really.” he nuzzled into your hair. “that was the best blowjob i’ve ever had. hands down.”
“i’m glad i wasn’t the problem then.” you chuckled softly.
“you’re definitely not the problem, darling.”
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ot8xbangchansgirlsblog · 26 days ago
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can you write an OT8 x reader where the reader gets into an a bar fight with a few guys and she calls them?
(you dont have to make it very violent)
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𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝𝕤 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕟!
Warning: Angst/comfort, cursing, hate.
Summary: Request!
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Y/n knew that since she was out tonight most of her lovers would be awake waiting for her, so getting messages from the group weren't very shocking.
Minho: Text me or Chan when you're ready to go come home bbg.
Hyunjin: All the maknaes miss you but we put them to sleep. hahaha
Chan: Stay safe. Call if any one bothers you. I mean it.
Those were the last two messages from her boyfriends—sent that evening—that she read before quickly tapping out a reply and switching off her phone. The glow of the screen faded, and her attention shifted to one of her friends, Aeri, who was animatedly ordering drinks from the waiter, her laughter ringing out above the chatter of the bar.
She felt a twinge of guilt for shutting her boyfriends out, knowing the hangover was sure to hit her hard the next day, but she reminded herself that she needed this night out. Sure, she'd much rather be home, cozied up with them, sharing quiet moments and stolen kisses. Yet, a deeper part of her understood how long it had been since she'd spent quality time with her girls—Aeri, Charlotte, and Desi—who had been reaching out to her with messages filled with emojis and longing.
The trio had been her support system, her partners in crime, and it felt like ages since they'd laughed until their sides hurt or shared secrets over cocktails. She could see the excitement in Aeri's eyes, and the thought of those familiar faces filled her with warmth. They had missed her, and she had missed them too. Tonight was about reconnecting, about letting go of the weight of everyday life, even if it meant facing a brutal hangover the next morning.
It took them about eight rounds of shots, four cocktails, and two mocktails for Y/n to finally grasp just how intoxicated they all were. Desi hiccuped, her cheeks flushed, and gave Y/n a sly smile. “Y/nnie!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Should we get another round?” Her giggle was infectious, prompting the rest of the girls to join in, laughter echoing around their corner of the bar.
Y/n couldn’t help but smile, but the reality of the situation hit her hard. “I think we need to get home now,” she replied, her tone slightly serious. “Leeknow is going to kill me, and Sun-hoo is definitely going to kill you when you get home.” She quickly waved over the waiter, hoping to end the night on a responsible note.
“NOOO! I’m going to miss you!” Charlotte pouted, her lower lip jutting out as she reached for Y/n’s hand. “Let’s take one more round! I know you’re going to be hibernating once you get home!”
Y/n felt her resolve weakening, the warmth of camaraderie pulling her back in. “Okay, one more round, but that’s it!” she relented, a laugh escaping her lips. In all honesty, she was already pretty far gone, and she knew there was no way she could drive home. So why not enjoy this moment a little longer?
Once she settled the bill—thanks to Changbin practically shoving his card into her hand—Y/n pulled out her phone to dial Chan’s number, knowing he was likely still awake. It only took one ring before his familiar voice came through, raspy from sleep. “Hello? Baby? You there?”
“H-hey Channie,” she slurred, struggling to get off the table while clutching her wallet tightly. Her friends were already heading toward the exit, and she could hear their giggles mingling with the bustling noise of the bar.
“Hey, babygirl? You okay? Need me to pick you up?” Chan asked, already sensing trouble. He was slipping out of bed, careful not to wake Han, who had been snuggled against his side.
“P-pleaseee,” she managed to reply, guilt washing over her. “I’m sorry for—”
“Aeri!” she heard Aeri squeal, drawing her attention just in time to see her friend stumbling and colliding with four guys standing on the pavement outside the bar.
“Aish! Omg!” Y/n sighed, watching as Charlotte and Desi rushed to help Aeri, who was apologizing profusely to the very annoyed group of guys.
“What happened?” Chan asked through the phone, grabbing his keys and heading toward Leeknow’s room to let him know he was heading out.
“One second, babe. Aeri just knocked over some guy’s drink, and he looks really mad,” Y/n explained, stepping closer to the chaotic scene unfolding in front of her.
“Don’t get too involved if they’re super drunk,” Chan warned, his stomach tightening with unease. He could already picture the scene and the potential for trouble, and his protective instincts kicked in. “Just keep an eye on her, okay?”
Y/n nodded, even though Chan couldn’t see her, focusing on smoothing things over with the group outside. She felt the weight of the night settling in, knowing she needed to keep her friends safe while also managing to navigate the rising tension.
“Watch where you’re going slut,” one of the guys grumbled, annoyance etched on his face.
“Excuse me?” Desi jumped in, her confidence shining through. “If you want a new drink, we can totally pay for it. No need to be rude!”
“All you girls do is come out to the bars, get super drunk, and ruin people’s nights,” he shot back, taking a step closer, making Desi feel a bit uneasy.
“We’re really sorry, sir! It won’t happen again,” Y/n said quickly, trying to keep the peace. She reached into her wallet and pulled out some cash. “Here, you can take this for your drink and dry cleaning, ”
“I don’t need your money, okay?” he snapped, swatting the cash from her hand. Y/n stood there, momentarily stunned. Did he just hit her?
“Y/n? Baby? You there?” Chan’s voice crackled through the phone, but she was too shocked to reply.
“Hey, what’s your problem?!” Charlotte piped up, stepping in front of Y/n as she picked up the money from the ground. “Why would you hit a girl?!”
“Y/n?!” Chan’s voice turned urgent as he overheard the commotion. He felt a knot in his stomach. Did Charlotte just say someone hit her? Without hesitation, he shook Changbin awake, urgency in his voice.
“Someone hit Y/n,” he said, his heart racing as he grabbed his jacket. He couldn’t believe this was happening and felt a strong urge to rush to her side.
“Wha—what?! Chan, hold up!” Changbin exclaimed, fully waking up as he scrambled to grab his shoes. Leeknow and Hyunjin soon joined them, both equally confused and moving quickly.
“Why do you both look so panicked? And why are we grabbing our shoes like something just happened?” Leeknow asked, concern growing in his eyes. He knew they would fill him in eventually, but the urgency of the moment pushed him to act.
“Try calling Desi, please!” Chan urged as he attempted to call Y/n again, but she wasn’t picking up.
“I’ll try Aeri,” Changbin said, already dialing.
“I’ll try Charlotte,” Hyunjin added, his brow furrowed in worry.
“Someone hit her,” Chan said, anger bubbling inside him as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.
“What the hell? Who?” Hyunjin growled, his protective instincts kicking in.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to bash their heads in,” Chan glared at the road, his heart pounding in his chest. Changbin’s frustration mounted as none of the girls answered, while Leeknow stayed focused, knowing Chan was in fight mode.
As they pulled up outside the bar, they spotted the girls standing outside, visibly upset. Charlotte was yelling at a group of guys, her anger palpable.
“Is that them?” Leeknow said, determination setting in.
Without waiting for an answer, Changbin and Leeknow jumped out of the car and charged toward the men.
“I told you, her boyfriends are going to kill you!” Desi smirked as Changbin grabbed one of the guys by the collar. When one of the guy’s friends tried to intervene, Leeknow swiftly blocked the punch and jumped in, igniting a full-on brawl.
The girls watched in shock as Y/n desperately tried to intervene. “Please! Chan, let’s just go home,” she begged, pulling at Hyunjin’s arm.
She felt guilty but couldn’t shake the belief that those men deserved the beating they were getting. Changbin was fierce, and Y/n feared he might send someone to the hospital if it weren’t for the security guards who finally broke up the fight.
“Where did he hit you?” Leeknow growled as he reached Y/n, noting the bruise forming on her wrist and feeling a metallic taste in his mouth from the adrenaline.
She pointed to her wrist, and he let out a frustrated huff before examining it carefully. Chan was making sure the other girls were okay while Hyunjin worked to calm Changbin down.
“This is why we don’t let you out without us,” Chan said, pulling Y/n into a tight hug, relief flooding through him.
“Are you both okay?” he asked, glancing between her and Leeknow before giving Leeknow a quick kiss on the forehead.
“Yeah, are you?” Leeknow replied, steadying Y/n as she swayed slightly; she was still drunk, after all.
“I’m fine, just a little shaken,” Y/n admitted.
“You okay, Hyunjin? Changbin?” Y/n asked softly, her eyes searching their faces for any sign of distress.
“I’m just so happy you’re okay, love,” Hyunjin replied, leaning in to give her a gentle kiss that nearly brought him to tears. “Never scare me like that again. What if we weren’t here, huh?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her sincerity evident. “I really am. It won’t happen again—”
“If it does, I’ll bash them again,” Changbin growled, and everyone chuckled, knowing he was dead serious.
"I don't think it's safe for your friends to go home alone drunk. We'll let them stay at the pool house, yeah?" Chan asks knowing how severely drunk they were.
"Sure my love," he smiled at the response before holding Y/n's purse.
“Take her to the car; I’ll get the rest of the girls,” Chan instructed, heading toward Y/n’s friends. Y/n watched in awe at how much her boyfriends cared for her, and their concern only deepened once they got home.
Changbin carefully carried her to the kitchen, encouraging her to drink some water to help her sober up. Chan led her friends to the pool house outside, where they would be staying over, while Leeknow grabbed the first aid kit and Hyunjin warmed up some food for everyone.
“Never scare me like that,” Changbin grumbled, making her drink more water.
“Mmmm, I love you, Binnie,” she slurred, wrapping her arms around him, feeling safe and cozy.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” she said again, yawning and slowly resting her head on his shoulder.
“I know you’re tired, babygirl, but I have to ice that bruise. It looks nasty,” Leeknow said gently as he examined her wrist.
She instinctively pulled it away, whimpering at the pain, her reaction adorably cute.
“Don’t make me fight you on this,” Leeknow said, giving her a playful glare. She finally relented, “Fine…” she mumbled, knowing he had her best interests at heart.
“Okay, everyone is asleep, and I’m filing a report in the morning,” Chan announced as he walked back into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Hyunjin’s waist and planting soft kisses on his cheek.
“What a night, right guys?” Changbin chuckled, spooning some food into Y/n’s mouth, hoping no one would ever try something like that again.
“Huh?” Y/n blinked, still a little dazed but comforted by the warmth of her boyfriends around her.
Funny thing is, she never remembered a thing when she next woke-up.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3
A/N: Thank you anon!
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stunie · 4 months ago
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Hear me out. ✋😩🤚 stoner Rindou and Wakasa and being passed around I’m just sayin hear ME OUT
SCREAMING i am hearing u out ands! ok so i don’t write for stoner!character because i feel like i would do a terrible job, however. being passed around ? yes. i would absolutely love to think of that ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა
rindou x f!reader x wakasa
contains: explicit smut (18+), threesome, creampie, etc
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They’re surprisingly compatible.
Your back is flush against Rindou’s chest, his fingers craning your head to the side as he sticks two fingers into your mouth, content with the way you’re instinctively sucking and licking his digits the second they touch your tongue. You’re doing the best you can anyway— your face is looking so sinful and they’ve barely even started, your eyes teary and half lidded from the way Wakasa is currently flicking his tongue at your click.
“Think she’s ready,” Wakasa grunts from between your legs, satisfied with the way your legs have begun trembling just from his tongue. The second he’s moving up, the fingers previously in your mouth are being stuffed deep inside your cunt, roughly curling against your sensitive walls as you squeal. It only takes you a little longer before you’re squirting, screaming as your juices gush all over Rindou’s hands, and you hear Wakasa sigh.
“Well now she’s definitely ready.”
You find yourself on all fours next, your face just mere inches away from Wakasa’s achy cock as he glances down at you through lidded eyes, hands coming to settle on the back of your head as he guides you closer. Rindou’s behind you, lining his thick cock along your hole before he’s pushing inside with a deep groan.
Your moans are muffled by the cock that’s stretching your throat out, vibrations of your voice pulling the most sinful groans from Wakasa as Rindou fucks you at a brutal pace. Wakasa’s hand is firm against your head, keeping his cock deep inside you, and Rindou’s grip on your thighs is bruising.
It’s only a few minutes in when one of them gets the idea to switch off, one of them moving to ruffle your hair before they’re both making their way behind you.
“Every two minutes?”
“Mhm. Every two minutes.”
You’re being dragged by your ankles next— until only your upper body’s on the mattress, body bent over as you grasp at the sheets. Your eyes are rolling back into your skull, throat raw from screaming, and it takes you a while to get used to them, but by the third round, you’re vaguely able to differentiate the two by the specific way they fuck you.
Wakasa goes deeper, thrusts a little more focused on making you feel the stretch— letting you feel him reach into your stomach. Rindou goes harder, his cock is slamming against the spot that has you screaming, and he aims to pummel that same spot as soon as he finds it.
You lose count of how many times they’ve switched. They’re still pounding into you so roughly that you’ve been pushed up onto your toes, then completely off your toes, but your thighs are too tired— too weak to hold up your weight, so they resort to simply holding you up for them. Their hands are tight around your hips, keeping you nice and still for them to each have a turn at dumping their next load inside you.
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just-jordie-things · 7 months ago
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[part three] we weren't just friends - okkotsu yuuta
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word count: 10.2k warnings: smut! oral (f!receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex, size kink (i think? yuuta's packin) praise kink, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, baby, slut is mentioned) overstimulation, soft sex summary: our two idiots may not know how to express their feelings through words, but they sure know how to find creative loopholes to solve that issue! more info: college!au so aged up characters!! roommates!au, childhood friends to lovers, the way i actuallly wrote smut for once and it's still mega softness
part three: "wish you'd let me stay, i'm ready now" ___
It wasn’t pleasant to wake up with a pounding skull.
Luckily what woke (y/n) up first was the rapping of knuckles on the door, hitting so hard it shook on it’s hinges.  It was a brutal awakening, and once conscious she could still feel Mai’s rampant knocking in her head.  With a groan, she burrowed her face into her pillow, attempting to block out all sound completely.  Unfortunately, feathers and cotton weren't enough to do this.
“Could you stop with the banging?” A deep voice behind her groaned.  She weakly made a noise of agreement.  
The bed dipped and rose as the boy who’d shared it with her dragged himself out of his own comfortable bubble to go answer to the heavy knocking.
As he approached the door he could hear a faint, “Yuuta make her say sorry” whine from the lump of covers on his bed.  He chuckled to himself as he swung the door open and hurried out of the room so he could close it behind him again.
Mai, still donned in the skin tight slip dress she’d worn to the bar last night, gave him a lopsided grin as he pulled the door shut.
“Wasn’t trying to intrude on your first morning after,” She teased, and gave Yuuta no time to defend himself before continuing, “But Maki’s outside, so I’m heading out” 
Yuuta’s brow furrowed as he frowned at her.
“You could’ve texted me that,” He grumbled while she laughed and carried her purse and heels in one hand while traipsing her way to the door.  “You didn’t have to wake up the whole building with your loudness” 
“Apologies!” Mai giggled.  “I just wanted to make sure you two would hear me in there!” 
As she swings open the front door and wiggles her fingers back at him in a playful goodbye, she’s still giggling.  Even when the door shuts again, he swears he can hear her cackling as she leaves the building.
He huffs, drags his hand over his face, and goes back into his room.
(y/n’s) curled up in a ball in the middle of the mattress.  With the covers tangled around her so snug it’s hard to make out what’s her and what’s blanket.  He chuckles, and there’s a little movement in the heap as she lifts her head.
“Did she say sorry?” (y/n) mumbles.
She’s turned towards him, but her eyes are closed, pinched shut to make sure no light penetrates them and sets her already frying headache on fire.
“She did,” Yuuta hums, sitting on the edge of the mattress and pushing her forehead gently back into the pillow.  The force of his palm is tender, but he’s firm in guiding her back down.  “She went home.  Go back to sleep” He tells her softly.
(y/n) lazily swats his hand off of her head after she’s already laid back down.
“D’n’t tell me what to do” She grumbles into the pillow, already drifting back to sleep.
He chuckles at her, fixing up the blanket and tugging it to her chin.  Despite her trying to suppress it, a soft smile tugs on her lips at the sweet act.
“You tuckin’ me into bed, Yuu?” She teases tiredly.  He rolls his eyes affectionately.  The giggle she lets out is muffled by the pillow.
“Yeah yeah, get some sleep and I’ll make you eggs when you’re up,” He tells her, smirking before she gags in reaction.  “Extra runny” He adds when he gets up from the bed, and this time he’s greeted with a louder gag.
“I’ll get sick in your bed!” (y/n) threatens when he leaves.
To both of their relief, that doesn’t happen.
It takes a few hours before she feels steady enough on her feet to even get out of the bed.  But at some point it’s too uncomfortable to keep trying to sleep off the hangover, and she prays a shower will soothe some of the aches and pains.
Yuuta bids her a cheeky good afternoon when she shuffles from his bedroom into the bathroom at well-past three o’clock.  He’d been working on the final touches for his Econ essay at the kitchen table and was pleasantly surprised to see her up at all.  She shoots him a glare but her lips deceive her and tilt into a small smile.
He’s more surprised to hear the shower running, seeing as she’d dragged her feet across the carpet and he wasn’t sure how long she’d be upright for, but he’s glad that she’s at least trying to push herself into feeling better.  He doesn’t think anything more of it as he goes back to his work.
Fifteen minutes pass and he vaguely registers that the water has been shut off.  And then a few minutes after that, the door creaked open.
“Hey, Yuuta?” 
“Hm?” He hums in response, his fingers still gliding across his keyboard as he continues to work on his revisions.
“Would you make me those eggs now?”
He laughs, wrapping up a run on sentence that he’d probably go back to delete again later, before turning his head to give her a nod.
But he freezes and the color drains from his face as his eyes land on her.  Almost instantly they begin to sting, burning with the need to blink, but they remain wide open and focused.
She’s standing there with nothing but a towel wrapped around her, water still dripping off the ends of her hair and sliding across her skin until they disappeared under the towel.  
It was like someone took the dial on Yuuta’s senses and cranked it up until the knob broke off.
He was so obviously staring at her, his face awestruck as he gaped and his eyes dragged over her figure so slowly his lashes twitched.
His throat felt dry.  His palms felt itchy.  And when he finally met her gaze, she was raising a brow at him, expectantly.
Oh, right, she asked him a question.
“Yeah,” He said, turning his attention back to his computer so he could actually speak.  “I’ll make you some eggs” 
He’s quick to save his file and shut the laptop before standing from the table and heading to the kitchen.
“Thank you!” (y/n) calls, and shortly after he hears her door shutting and he can’t help but let out a long exhale.
As he gathers the eggs from the fridge and the pan from the cupboard, Yuuta tries to push the image far from his mind.  But after their conversation last night and the incident from the night prior, he wonders if this is just his life now.
If he was the one destined to deal with having a hot roommate that he’d been falling for ever since they’d met in grade school.  Maybe this was his torture, only brought on by himself the longer he bottled up his true feelings and pushed them deep, deep down.  
This is what he deserved, he supposed.  After spending years tripping over his words and his feet when it came to her.  Years of struggling to keep his face from flushing when she looked at him, or trying to discreetly look at her when she didn’t notice.  Years of trying to forget about the lingering buzz in his chest and haze in his brain left by her, all for the sake of trying to cling onto a friendship which paled in comparison to the ways he truly felt about her- but could never admit to.
With a skilled hand he cracked an egg over the pan and tossed the shell blindly towards the sink.  It sizzled and popped as it began to cook, but even as Yuuta prodded it about the pan, his mind was far from focused on cooking.
Because now he wasn’t so sure if things were as one-sided as he previously thought.
Drunkenly making out with your best friend-slash-roommate is one thing.  Maybe most would have pointed in his face and laughed for excusing such behavior, but he’d justified it as simple curiosity anyways.
But then she’d admitted to him that there were more times she thought about him in less-than-innocent-and-platonic-ways.  She’d told him herself about those times- most of which Yuuta had never even thought twice about before.  And then she even told him he was a good kisser! 
Which begged the question in the back of his mind- was she still thinking about him? 
“Shit” He hissed under his breath when he realized the egg was about to overcook past (y/n’s) liking, and rushed to slide a spatula underneath it and plate it up.
He tried to clear his mind as he cracked a second egg in the pan, wanting this one to be perfectly to her standards- not that she’d ever complain.
Just as he’s adding the second, better, egg to the plate, (y/n) pads back into the kitchen, a grin on her face as she takes the plate from him.
“Perfect, I’m starving” She cuts into the lesser-looking of the two and doesn’t comment on why it’s crispier around the edges, only smiles as she slides the fork out of her mouth.
Yuuta chuckles.  All that anxiety over an egg, and she didn’t even seem to notice.  Maybe all of this stuff had wormed too deep in his head.  Maybe he should relax.
“I’m done with my essay,” He lies, knowing fully well that if he turned it in at it’s current state, it wouldn’t get a passing mark.  “Watch a movie with me?”
(y/n) smiles and nods, still picking at her eggs as she makes her way to the sofa, putting him in charge of the remote and deciding on what to watch.  Yuuta sits at what he deems a safe distance away from her.  Completely on a separate cushion, and when he rests his arm along the back of the couch, he’s careful not to rest it too close to her.
He might still be overthinking everything.
But as the movie starts and (y/n) finishes her four o’clock breakfast, he slowly finds himself relaxing.  His muscles feel less tense, his mind stops whirring, and for a good twenty minutes or so, he could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, and things were perfectly the same.
And then (y/n) pulls her legs up onto the couch and wiggles closer to him, until she’s tucked under his arm.  He must’ve made a face, because when she looks up at him, she gives him a sheepish smile.
“What? ‘m cold,” She says, shifting closer to him still.  “Does this bother you?” 
“N-no!” He laughs in embarrassment when he stammers out the answer, and (y/n) chuckles back at him, before turning her attention back to the screen.
“Okay, good,” She hums, leaning her head back against his bicep.  His entire arm tenses, and he’s overthinking again.  “I don’t want things to be weird forever” She admits quietly.
“Don’t worry, s’not weird” Yuuta mumbles back.
She turns her head against his arm, looking up at him with a small frown.  He winces, and feels guilty for lying to her.
“Yuuta, I’ve known you for a long time,” She says, her voice barely above a whisper.  “I think I can tell when you’re lying” 
His wince turns into a miniature smile before he huffs out a quiet laugh through his nose.  
“Touche,” He mumbles, and the corners of her lips quirk upwards.  “Is… is there something I can do to make it less weird?” 
Her brows pinch together, signifying that she didn’t think the solution was that easy.  It wasn’t a change in habits, or a lengthy conversation at the kitchen table.  It was messy, it was raw, and it was currently being held up by a lump in her throat and an irregular heartbeat in her chest.
“I don’t think so,” She murmurs with a sigh.  “What about me?” She turns the question onto him.  “Is there anything I can do?” 
He shakes his head in a small motion back at her, his eyes flickering between hers with enough attention that he catches the way they gloom with sadness.  Yuuta frowns, and before he can think about potentially making things worse, his palm cups her cheek, worry taking over his features.
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” He instructs, as though he were capable of reading her mind.  “You didn’t do anything wrong” 
“I know- I know, you keep saying that, but I…” Her voice is strained, her throat is burning, and she blames the lingering hangover for the swell in her emotions.  
But she knows that’s not the source.  She knows that the last few months- no- the last few years of gathering feelings for Yuuta are catching up to her, and their drunken little experiment on this very couch was just the tipping point she needed to solidify what those feelings really meant.
Yuuta’s thumb sweeps gently over her cheekbone, his touch was light but the warmth of his skin lingered there.  She found herself leaning further into it, despite her better judgment.
Reason tells her to get a grip.  It tells her to pack up the hormones and move on.  It tells her to go back to the bar until she finds someone to get under just to get over Yuuta, or maybe even text that stuck up asshole that Maki warned her about.  Anything it would take to move past this pebble in the grand scheme of her friendship with Yuuta.  Reason tells her it was one night, and she can’t let one night ruin years of a special bond.
Her heart begs to differ.  It cries, it pleads, it mourns the idea of not being truthful with him.  Her heart weeps with the outpour of love and desire, after spending so long wondering what something more with Yuuta would look like, only to have a small taste, a sample, really.  It was killing her, the thought of never having him fully, the thought that they’d go back to their friendship, more awkward than ever.
Currently, Yuuta wishes he could get a glimpse inside of her mind, because he could practically feel her inner turmoil happening before him.  Her lips were sealed shut, but her thoughts were screaming behind her eyes.  His brows draw together in obvious concern, and when she finally moves, it’s not to speak.
She’s pulled away from him and off the couch in a flurry of anxious movements.  Yuuta barely registers that she’s grabbed her empty plate and fork and is hurrying into the kitchen.  He blinks in a daze, before getting up and following her to the sink where she’s rinsing off the dirty dishes.
“I’m sorry, I-” She’s still stammering, despite trying to clear her mind and focus on communicating what felt the most important.  That she wasn’t upset, that he didn’t do anything wrong, and that she was the only one to blame for all of this.  
But that’s not what comes out.
“I just didn’t really see any of this going this way, you know?” 
She’s speaking more clearly, but her voice is still a shaky whisper, afraid of not being able to take the words back.  Yuuta’s waiting patiently, leaning against the kitchen counter while accidentally staring daggers at her back.  She knows he’s just focused, but the heaviness of his gaze adds pounds of pressure to her shoulders.
“I know,” Yuuta tries to keep his voice calm, hoping to ease her anxiety by remaining collected.  Even though a fiery mess of words were clawing up his throat and threatening to come out in a humiliating act of word vomit.  “But, (y/n/n), I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me all the time” 
She looks at him then, her eyes glossy with tears that she was trying to keep from falling.
“Yuuta, I don’t feel uncomfortable around you,” She says softly.  Her hands tangle together nervously as she turns around to face him properly.  They still wring together as she leans back against the sink and tries to find the words to explain her messy thoughts.  “You didn’t do anything wrong” 
He tilts his head at her, brows pinching in concern.  “You didn’t do anything wrong, either” He reminds her for the second time today.
“I know, but-” 
“I’m serious, (y/n),” He steps forward and crosses his arms over his chest, silently begging her not to look away from him so that she’d know he meant every word of it.  “Whatever we- whatever I have to do to help you, just, forget what happened, you need to tell me,” He pleads.  “I don’t care what it is, I don’t care if it’s ridiculous,” He’s shaking his head as he speaks, a nasty feeling of guilt building up in his stomach that he decides to push past for the greater good of not losing her.  “I don’t care, okay?” He lowers his voice.  “If you want the place to yourself for a while-” 
“No!” 
She shoots forward then, her hands latching onto his forearm as if he were about to abandon her then and there, as if she alone was strong enough to hold him in place if he tried.  Her eyes are wide with panic, and in the heat of the moment a tear tracked down her cheek.  She’s just as quick to let him go and roughly wipe away the wet streak with the back of her hand.
“I don’t want that, don’t- don’t do that,” She mumbles after collecting herself a little better. 
Yuuta eyes her hands, no longer tangled together in a tight ball of white knuckles.  They’re still strained, stretched out in front of her like she had a fresh coat of polish on them.  If he looked close enough, he could see them trembling.  He starts to uncross his arms, wanting to take hold of them and talk her down from this stressful moment.  He wants to remind her that no matter what’s happened, he’s there for her because he cares about her.  But just as he’s about to reach for her, she’s speaking again.
“I think I just wanted that to happen for a really long time,” She sighs, one of her hands darting through her hair to pull the overstimulating loose strands away from her face.  “And I… I guess I wasn’t expecting it to be like- like that,” 
Yuuta’s completely frozen before her, not having expected that of all the admissions she could’ve made.  Mentally he’d been packing his things.  Now he felt like he had whiplash and needed a good five seconds to do a full reset on reality.
“And that’s not fair I know I- I initiated the whole thing and I should’ve never listened to the Zen’ins it was stupid but I just thought maybe if it was a fleeting thing I’d get over you and things would be normal but I’m not and things aren’t normal and I feel so-!” 
“You were trying to get over me?” 
Yuuta’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.  In fact the forgotten movie playing in the living room had a clearer volume than him.  But somehow (y/n’s) frantic rambling ceased, and a silence settled between them.
He’s waiting for her to confirm that he’d heard her correctly, even though her exact words were still spiraling around in his head on a vicious loop.  While she’s waiting for the floor to open up and swallow her whole for getting so worked up and letting her mouth run on autopilot.
“(y/n),” Yuuta calls to her when she doesn’t speak, or even move, to acknowledge that she’d heard him.  
He knows she had, he knows she’s aware of exactly what she’d said.  He raises his eyebrows at her, wordlessly trying to get her to say something, anything.  She gapes at him like a fish out of water- thrown into a completely new element that she’s not equipped for, lost and afraid that she’ll suffocate to death.
“(y/n)” He says her name again, this time stepping forward.  He finally finds the courage to grab her tensed hands, and he wraps them in his and squeezes until he feels them relax.  A method that he’d used countless times before to calm her down- whether she was ranting about work or having a panic attack, it always did the trick.
Even now, her eyes soften a little bit as she stares at him worriedly, trying to figure out what he was thinking before he had the chance to voice it himself.  Her hands fall limp in his, and slowly, she presses her fingers into his palms.
“Yeah,” Her voice is hoarse, and her eyes lower from his, at first out of embarrassment, but then they land on his lips, pink and soft and parted in surprise, and her mind wanders off to recall just how sweetly he’d kissed her.  
For that first kiss, timid and new and exciting, he’d been so gentle.  If she thought about it, she could still feel the tingle of eagerness in her lips, and the warmth of his hand against her thigh.  Her eyes linger a little longer than they should have as she brought herself completely back to that moment. She wants to be sure that if he’d kissed her like that- passionately, desperately- that there must have been more behind it than simple drunken curiosity, right? 
“I- I was trying to get over you,” The rest of her answer has long since been delayed, but Yuuta doesn’t seem perplexed when her eyes flicker back up to his.  “It wasn’t just a kiss,” She continues, her fingers curling around his hands to ensure he felt every ounce of authenticity in her words.  “Not for me,” She shakes her head.  “I know I said that it was but I… I was lying.  It wasn’t.  I just… wanted to kiss you.  At least once, or, at least to be sure.  About my… feelings… anyways”
Yuuta blinked.  His expression had been shockingly blank, and it was starting to unsettle her.  She didn’t want to have to apologize or take any of it back, but the longer he silently stared at her, the more unease stirred in her stomach.
“I lied, too,” He tells her suddenly, and her lips twitch into a nervous smile.  A chuckle escapes him before he clarifies.  “It wasn’t just a kiss for me either.  Not even a little bit” 
He watches in real time as she reacts to his admission.  First her expression softens as her heart begins to melt for him.  Then her eyes lit up, brightening before him so brilliantly he couldn’t help but grin, just as she was doing now.
And then before he can tell her just exactly how it is he feels, she’s pulling her hands out of his, grabbing him by the shoulders and shooting up to the tips of her toes so she could reach him properly for a kiss.
He’s startled by the sudden act, but just as quickly has his hands wrapped around her waist and is reciprocating the kiss with fervor.
She’s instantly breathless, gasping for air between fast, heated kisses, but even when Yuuta tries to give her a minute to catch her breath, her lips are chasing his and she’s locking them together needily again.  Air could wait.
It only takes a miniscule shuffle backwards on her part for Yuuta’s hands to continue pushing her hips, guiding her to keep blindly tripping until her back hits the counter.  A small gasp at the sudden bump escaped her throat but she recovered in a moment's notice.
Just as Yuuta’s stooping lower to her height, his hands wandering down her waist and latching onto her thighs, her own grip tightens on his shoulders as she braces herself for him to lift her up.  A sweet, delighted little sound comes out of her when she’s placed on the counter and Yuuta’s slotting himself between her legs in one swift motion.  Their kisses barely cease as his hands are at the nape of her neck and in her hair as he skillfully tilts her head to deepen their kiss.
Her back arches and she leans forward off the counter until she’s pressed as close to him as she can get.  The bend of her knees are loosely hooked at his hips, and in small movements she tries to tighten their hold on him.  This proved to be difficult as the messier his kisses became, the weaker her knees grew.
Oxygen is gifted to her in abundance as Yuuta’s mouth trails along her jaw, swollen lips dragging over sensitive skin in between lazy kisses.  Her chest heaves as she pants, and Yuuta must have noticed because he chuckles into the junction of her jaw and neck.
“Why were you trying to get over me, pretty girl?” His lips tickle her neck as he speaks, punctuated with a sweet kiss followed by a filthier suckle of the alluring skin.  It has her hips squirming, which Yuuta notices as well, taking great haste to wrap his hands around the dips in her waist, keeping her still and firm against him.
“I-” She’s cut off by her own gasp as Yuuta returns to leaving a pretty mark on the side of her neck, just low enough that there was no hairstyle or collar that could possibly keep it hidden.  “I thought it was the right thing”
He lifts his head, finally meeting her gaze with hooded eyes and a lazy smirk that she can’t tear her eyes away from, even as he speaks.
“Right thing,” He repeats back with a chuckle that sets her body ablaze.  He leans towards her again, his nose prodding hers to the side until their lips brush as they speak.  “Baby, it’s an absolute shame that we weren’t doing this the whole time” 
Her hands are gripping at the material of his tee shirt so tight she’s convinced she could rip it right off his chest if she wanted to.  Her knuckles are white, and bound to start trembling soon, but she doesn’t care about looking foolishly desperate anymore.  Wanting him is the only thought occupying her mind.
Her lips are on his again in a heartbeat, and even though she’s kissing him and she’s the one trying to tug his shirt over his head, she whines in annoyance when Yuuta breaks the kiss to properly get the material out of the way.  He’s laughing again, mocking her for the pout on her lips before her hands are on him again and she’s sighing contentedly into his mouth.
And her hands are everywhere.  She’s touching him like she’s never felt human skin.  She touches him like she lost her sight and mapping out every inch of his body with her hands was the only way for her to know who it was before her.  Delicate fingertips trace along his collarbones, down his chest, along his abdomen, through the ridges of his abs, and then all over again.  At first it’s a precise dance, but it doesn’t take long for the movements to get sloppy, and the soft caresses turn into her grabbing and pawing at him.
“You c’n take mine off,” She tells him, voice low and strained against his lips.  His teeth sink into her bottom lip, only for a quick second out of pure impulsive desire, before his hands are sliding under her shirt and shoving the offending clothing up and over her head.  It’s dropped somewhere on the kitchen floor with his own forgotten shirt, and (y/n) grins at him as she loops her arms around his neck, fingers raking gently through the hair that hangs there.  “Eager, hm?” She giggles, and for a moment, she looks genuinely delighted, happy like she’d just been told good news.
The look softens and melts into something completely different when he responds.
“Well, ‘ve wanted you since high school” His voice growing huskier than she was used to, and when he catches her lips in a deep kiss, slower and more sensual than the ones before, desire pools in her stomach and she buries her hands further into his hair.
“H- high school?” She repeats back to him in a breathy moan.  Yuuta hums in confirmation, stealing another kiss.  “Why didn’t you-?” The question fails her while his hands roam over her hips, snaking their way up towards her bra.
“Didn’t think it was the right thing,” He chuckles as he uses her words against her.  She’d roll her eyes if they weren’t already in the back of her head from his fingers teasing her through the lacy cups of her bra.  “Pretty girl, getting all worked up over nothing,” He sighs, and she tilts her head forward to chase his lips, but he doesn’t grant her another kiss right away.  
One of his hands reaches for her face, cupping her cheek almost tenderly as he admires the dazed and needy look on her face.  Her blown pupils, swollen lips, heavy lashes- Yuuta always found her to be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but having her in this state might take the cake.
“If only you’d known the way I thought about you then,” He admits.  Her eyes grow a little wider, curious, and excited.  “Fuck, I don’t think you’d’ve wanted to live with me” He mumbles, an amused smirk on his lips.
Tugging on the strands of his hair until his face is as close as she wanted him to be, (y/n’s) lips curl into an eager smile.
“Well, we’re here now,” She murmurs.  One of her hands travels down his neck and then the rest of his body, almost on it’s own accord, until her fingers prod and tuck into the waistband of his sweats.  Her eyes follow the bob of his adam’s apple when he swallows thickly, her smile only brightening.  “And this time there’s no one to interrupt us?” She tilts her head as she makes the quiet suggestion, and Yuuta’s smile begins to mirror her own.
“Oh, ‘s that so?” He asks, his hands scooping her up off the counter and lifting her into his chest with ease.  The quick movement makes her laugh, her arms winding around his neck, and her legs hooking over his hips.
She’s still grinning like an idiot when she leans down to kiss him again.  It’s messier than before, all teeth and breathless laughter, but the moment is so sweet, and it feels so good to kiss him properly- not on some silly whim, but for real- that she doesn’t care about it being sloppy.  His hands are secured tight under her legs, and when they part again, she raises an eyebrow at him.
“Would you like to take me right here or…?” She asks, her face undeniably flushing with pink at the forward question.  He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at their corners as he smiles back at her, giving her left leg a teasing squeeze.
“Take you, hm?” He mocks, before adjusting her against him, pulling her closer, holding her tighter, and her face grows hotter with embarrassment but she’s grinning from ear to ear nonetheless.
“Mhm” She nods, and is giggling quietly again as he begins to carry her with him out of the kitchen.
He wants to keep kissing her, but he can’t help but let his stare linger on her pretty features.  His heavy gaze has her flustering even more in his hold, only making him want to stare at her for longer.  It’s making him a bit clumsy, tripping over their shirts on the floor, knocking into the furniture on the way, tipping a chair over and wincing when it hits the ground, but not caring enough to go back and correct it.  They’re still laughing, noses brushing and quick kisses being stolen in between quiet giggles and hushed, teasing whispers.
“Don’t you dare drop me” 
“Before the chance to ‘take you’, pretty girl? Wouldn’t dream of it” 
She’s not sure of the room he’s brought them into until the door is kicked shut and she’s greeted with twinkly orange fairy lights and the lingering scent of incense and her favorite perfume.
Once the door is shut his lips are on hers again, so swollen they almost feel sore but he’d rather go numb than refrain from kissing her again.  He moves slowly, memorizing every dip and curve of her lips, every taste of her velvety mouth.
He’s even slow when he sets her down on the bed, and slow to let her go so she can shuffle back on the covers.  He pauses completely when she settles at her headboard, her thumbs sticking into the hem of the cotton shorts she’d been wearing, and pushing them down her legs.
She’s biting her lip to keep from smiling too hard when she drops them on the floor, her eyes never leaving his.
“Well are you getting in bed with me, or not?” 
He didn’t need to be asked twice, kneeling on the mattress and crawling over her until she was caged beneath him, hands settled at either side of her head to keep himself from putting too much weight on her.  Her eyes brighten from underneath him, and her hands wrap around the nape of his neck to pull him down to her lips.
“I’ve been wonderin’ about somethin’,” Yuuta hums, appreciating the purple love bite on her neck before deciding she could use some more.  His hands slide beneath her, unclasping her bra with ease before reaching for the straps on her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.  She hums in response, tilting her chin back as he continued to pepper kisses down her neck and across her chest.  “That night, when you hurried off to bed,” He reminds her, a large, calloused palm trailing from her side down to her hip, agonizingly slow.  His thumb stretches out to tease at the waistband of the baby blue panties she wore, admiring the lacy trim before flicking his gaze back up to hers.  “D’ya touch yourself?” 
A bashful giggle escapes her, her head tossing to the side in the hopes of hiding her embarrassment in her pillow.  Her reaction was answer enough, and enough to make the corner of Yuuta’s lips twitch in a lazy smirk, but he still wanted a better response than that.
“C’mon, pretty girl.  Gotta have an answer, I’m afraid,” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice that’s melting her like putty in his hands.  
He gives her the benefit of easing up on the heavy gaze, dropping his head to plant kisses down her chest, through the valley of her breasts, before exploring over to the perky nipple.  He rolls his tongue lazily over the hardened bud, before wrapping his teeth and lips around it and giving it a small tug, just as his hand groped at her other breast with a gentle, experimental squeeze.  She squirmed beneath him, longing for more.  He smirks as he releases her nipple with a pop of his lips, just as his fingers pinch the other one, tweaking it and watching as her face screws up and a long whine is evoked from her. His hands knead selfishly at her breasts a bit more as his lips travel down her chest excitedly, only slowing down once he’d crawled down enough to reach her navel.  
“You been worked up since then, baby?” He murmurs so sweetly that she whines.  He drags one of his hands down to rest across the lowest part of her tummy.  It splayed out far enough to grip at the plush of her thigh, and still trail his thumb over the lacy hem of the last of her garments.  She raises her hips for him, desperate to feel just a little more friction from his hands.
And then she nods, shaky and fast, and her hand wraps around his wrist, tugging needily, but he keeps his hold firm on her hip, squeezing a little tighter.
Yuuta grins as she whines in irritation, his eyes flickering down to the wet patch on her panties, and then back up to her pouting face.
“Y’look so pretty when you’re needy like this,” He sighs, before settling down on the mattress completely.  Using his hand on her hip he tossed her leg over his shoulder with ease, his other hand wrapped under her thigh, holding it just right so she’d keep them open for him.  “You don’t know how long I thought about this pretty girl, ‘bout you” 
With his free hand, he ghosted his thumb over her panties, just barely hovering over where she craved the friction the most.  This elicited another whine.
“Yuuta,” She huffed, one of her hands fisting the sheets beneath her tightly as a means to let out the pent up frustration he was putting her through.  “Please, touch me, please” 
He hums, and hooks his thumb through the crotch of her panties, tugging the material to the side to give him a better view of the sticky mess she was making.  He couldn’t help but groan as he dragged the fat pad of his thumb from her soaked hole up to the hood over her clit, dragging it back painfully slow.  Her breaths grew even more labored, and Yuuta gave into her pleas as soon as her puffy clit was exposed.
“I like when you say please” He murmurs, breath cool over her slick heat.
He didn’t give her a chance to say anything else before he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, giving it a languid roll of his tongue.  Her hips stuttered and he quickly found he’d have to hold on a little tighter to keep her legs nice and spread for him.  
A few more slow licks and she was moaning for him.  Her head tossed back into her pillows, her back arched and hips raised for him while she whimpered and whined sweet noises for him.  Every little sound spurred him on further, earning her an eager suck at her throbbing clit.
She got more vocal as his finger circled her needy hole, clenching around nothing as he ghosted around the outside, feeling more wetness spill out the longer he teased her.  Yuuta had to press his own hips hard into the mattress just to ease the mind-consuming hardness in his pants.
When he teases the tip of his finger inside, feeling her tight, warm walls practically suck him in, he groans into her pussy, and that was all the more she needed to get louder, and a little more confident about asking for what she wanted.
“Yes, yes, Yuuta, please, put it in, put it in” She’s babbling, carried away by her own building desire, and shamelessly rutting her hips to try and get him to press his thick finger in further.  
He hums, sending another jolt through her core as his lips are still wrapped around her clit, and she’s chanting again.
“Please, p- please, please~” Over and over like a mantra, each strained whimper more enticing to him than the last.  Until eventually he grants her wish, and curls his finger the rest of the way inside, moving at a slow pace.
It doesn’t take him long to find the spongy spot when he curls his finger just right inside of her that makes her chant his name with so much praise he worries he could cum in his pants just listening to her.
“Gonna-!” She’s cut off by a sharp breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his tongue rolls viciously over her overstimulated clit while he plunges a second finger to pump in and out of her.  “Yuu-ta-! I’m gonna-! You’re gonna make me-!” 
“C’mon pretty girl,” He mutters into her pussy, giving her clit a harsh suck in between.  “You can do it, cum for me baby” 
The hot, tightening cord in her core finally snaps, washing heat and pleasure over her body in waves so strong she’s tearing up as she cries out his name and clamps down on his fingers, still pumping in and out of her as more sticky cream coats them.  He’s grinning at the sight of her shaking legs and screwed up face that relaxes as the sudden climax wears off into a dazed high.  He sits up on his knees with a chuckle, sliding his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean almost dramatically before her.
Her eyelids feel heavy as she gazes up at him in all of his glory.  His lips and chin are slick with her juices, his pupils are blown wide and his hair hangs in front of his face, a few strands getting stuck to his forehead.  But he quickly rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face before he’s lowering himself over her again, kissing either of her hips before working his way up her body.
“Did so good f’me, baby,” He praises as his lips reach the top of her breasts, mouthing at the soft flesh before continuing on to her marked up collarbones.  “So perfect, so sexy when you cum,” He continues to babble out praise while she whimpers and wiggles beneath him, already seeking out more friction.  “Wanna make you do it again” 
Her hands trail down his abdomen, fingernails dragging just slightly over his skin, until they reach the waistband of his sweatpants.
“Then take these off” The demand comes out as more of a whine than she means it to, and she pouts when he chuckles at her.
“Eager, hm?” He teases.
“Stop using my words against me” She huffs, and one of Yuuta’s hands is enough to replace both of hers, giving his pants and boxers a swift tug that pushes them to his thighs, before he peels them the rest of the way off.
“Make me” 
He grins at her, but her teasing mood melts away as soon as he’s completely naked on top of her and she watches his erect dick spring out from the confines of his clothes, tapping against his abs.  She knows she’s staring too hard, but she can’t help it.  It was her first time seeing her best friend’s dick.  And she had no idea he was so… big.
She’d never had much trouble with the couple of guys she’d slept with before, and they hadn’t exactly had small dicks, but looking at him now, she wasn’t sure he’d even fit in there.
“You never told me you had a big dick” She mumbles, shyly meeting his gaze.  Yuuta tries to stifle his laughter, but her eyes are so wide and full of wonder that he can’t help but chuckle a bit at her reaction.
“It’s not exactly something- fuck-” 
He’s cut off when her hand tentatively reaches between them, wrapping around the thick base and giving him an experimental pump before sliding her thumb over the swollen pink tip, gathering the precum leaking out of it and spreading it down the rest of his length.  Yuuta shudders out a breath, his eyes falling shut as he tries to compose himself, she’d barely touched him and his fist was clenched in the sheets.
“Not exactly something friends t- talk about” He stammers as she pumps him again, a small smile growing on her face as she watches his composure crumple as he gives into the pleasure.
“Well maybe you should’ve,” She murmurs, widening her legs as she guides him closer to her.  “We probably would’ve fucked a long, long time ago” 
It’s by far not the crudest thing said today, but it’s enough for him to take her hand and push it into the pillow beside her head.  During the action his eyes catch the silver chain daintily clasped around her wrist, little star and moon charms clinking together.  His eyes gloss over with an emotion (y/n’s) never noticed on him before, but she doesn’t get the chance to question him about it before his free hand taking his cock and rubbing the fat head through her wet folds.  They both whine at the pleasurable friction.
“Fuck, baby,” Yuuta sighs as he lets his hips roll over hers a few more times.  If she felt this good just like this he wasn’t sure he’d make it long once he was inside.  Nonetheless, he’s eager to line himself up at her entrance.  “Ready f’me?” He asks, his eyes meeting hers, and she nods up at him breathlessly.
She might be lying, because truthfully as soon as he pushes the tip in, she gasps and fights the urge to wince at the pain of being split open so wide.  This was certainly the biggest dick she's ever taken, and he wasn’t even halfway in yet.  But the more he pushes in, the more the sharp pain turns to pleasure of being so filled up.
“Aah- Yuu-” She cries out, her nails scratching up his back a little harder than she intended.  He hissed at the feeling but made no move to keep her from doing it.  “Too- ‘s too big,” She whines just as he bottoms out.  “Won’t fit- won’t-” 
“Shh, no, baby, look,” He coos, his hand cupping her face sweetly before he presses a kiss to her lips and nods down to where he’s completely sheathed inside of her.  “It’s all in, you’re takin’ me so well, see?” He muses, giving her a small rock of her hips that has her whining again.  “Can I keep goin’?” His thumb strokes over her cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen there.
She gives him a shaky nod, before sighing loudly.
“Yes, please,” She hums, and when he pulls out most of the way and slowly sinks back in, her nails are dragging over his back again, clinging tight to his broad shoulders in between scratches.
He groans every time he buries himself inside of her, picking up more of a pace with every thrust, and making sure to praise her as soon as he catches his breath and is able to do so.
“Feel’so good, baby, takin’ it so good” He grunts as his hips slam into hers with a little more force than before, earning a high pitched moan of pleasure out of her, followed by a tighter grip on his shoulders.  Yuuta hums appreciatively and repeats the action until she’s letting out nonstop strings of breathy moans and broken syllables that don’t quite make words.
“Does- ah! Feels- feels good,” She stammers out, rocking her hips in time with him and crying out when his tip hits that spot inside of her that makes a familiar knot twist in her stomach.  “So good, Yuuta, right- right there-!” 
“Here?” He rasps, his hands pulling her hips upwards for a better angle, and he’s rewarded with a yelp of surprise as her back arches further to meet his thrusts.
“Uh- uh-huh” (y/n) whines back at him as he picks up a faster pace.
Just as she’s about to warn him that she can feel her orgasm coming on, one of his hands slides across her hip until his thumb finds her clit, rubbing messy circles into it until she’s crying out his name like he’d show her mercy.
“Gettin’ so tight, baby, you gonna cum?” A fucked out grin takes over his face as he rubs harsher over the bundle of nerves.  (y/n’s) jaw trembles as she gasps and moans.  He groans as her walls flutter around him, getting tighter and wetter by the second.  She was about to snap, if it wasn’t obvious in the way she whimpered and cried out his name, he could feel it coming on.  “Be a good girl and cum all over my cock, hm?” 
The wave of her second orgasm is more powerful than the first, her entire bod shuddering as Yuuta continues to fuck her through it, watching a ring of cream form around his dick.  She’s still whimpering and babbling out nonsense while he’s fucking her, delighting in the hot wetness that of her post-orgasm pussy.  The praise falls from his lips before he can think about what he’s saying at all.
“Fuck, baby, you jus’ got so much wetter f’me” His head falls to the crook of her neck, kissing and sucking at any skin he can reach while his lips relentlessly pound into her.
“All f’you,” She mumbles back uselessly, feeling overstimulated in the most deliciously mind-numbing way.  “Jus’ f’you, only you” 
He nips teasingly at her throat before kissing the spot sweetly.
“That’s right, pretty girl, all mine now, yeah?” He groans, and she nods weakly back at him, teary eyes struggling to meet his as that coil in her core starts wrapping up tight again.
“Mhm” Is all she can manage for an answer.
“That’s it, baby,” Yuuta praises through a deep groan.  “Y’gonna cum again, aren’t you?” She can’t possibly work up the energy to respond, only whining and trembling beneath him like a slut.  His pretty n’ perfect little slut.  “Fuck, love your pussy s’much, wanna fuck y’like this all the time now, love f’cking you, love you s’much” 
With the mindless praise comes a confession that was less than meaningless, and suddenly (y/n’s) eyes are wide and his hips are stuttering and the heat of the room begins to make them sweat more than the strenuous cardio.
Yuuta opens his mouth, about to say something, maybe take it back, or explain that he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but (y/n) beats him to it, and she cuts through the bullshit before he can even start.
“You meant that,” Her voice is soft and gentle as she stares up at him with wide eyes.  Her pupils are still taking up most of her pretty eyes, flickering over his shocked expression with a curious glint.  “Didn’t you?”
The rest of the question comes out in a barely-there whisper, but he watches the movement of her lips, perfectly catching what she was saying.
“(y/n/n), look, I-” 
“I love you,” She murmurs out before he can come up with a way to explain himself.  Her hands are shaky as she reaches for his face, sliding them around his jaw and pulling him down close to her, whimpering in the slightest when the movement has his cock sliding along her walls just right.
There’s tears in her eyes as she stares up at him with nothing but genuine emotion.  Her lips tremble as they curl into a small and her gaze flickers between his eyes adoringly.
“I do, I love you,” She says it again, smiling even wider as the sweet confession tumbles past her lips.  “I love you so much, Yuuta- I- I love you so much it’s been driving me crazy” She lets out a breathless laugh before pressing a quick peck to his lips.
His eyes are wide and so focused on her he barely registers her small kiss.
He blinks, trying to clear his mind, trying to focus properly on what she’s telling him.
“I did mean it,” He forces out, lips brushing hers as he mumbles the admission.  “I do, love you.  I love you- I’ve always loved you, it’s always been you, baby, always,” The block in his throat is quickly removed as the babbling resumes, as does the gentle rocking of his hips.
(y/n) can’t recall a time she’d ever had sweet sex with anyone- she can’t recall a time she’d ever craved sweet sex with someone.  But something about being underneath Yuuta, having him fuck her softly while he goes on about how much he loves her, has her breath getting caught in her throat and tears of joy and pleasure sliding down her cheeks.  He kisses them away between whispered confessions and promises.
“Loved you f’ so long,” He murmurs against her cheek, before leaning down to capture her lips in a sweet kiss, only to be cut off when she gasps, a third orgasm reaching it’s climax.  “Love you always, love you s’much, want you to cum f’me again, baby, m’kay?”
With a weak nod, she drops one of her hands to reach down and circle her clit.  It’s so sensitive she cries out right away, and Yuuta groans as her walls spasm around his cock.
“That’s it, baby, that’s it, good girl,” He praises, rutting into her a little harder.  “Want you to cum with me” He instructs, and she nods again, whimpering and crying in agreement.
“‘m gonna- oh, Yuuta, ‘m gonna-!” 
She can’t finish her words, but she clenches down around him and that’s the final straw Yuuta needed to cum, thick hot ropes coating her walls with a deep groan, simultaneously pushing her over the edge with him as she tightens around him and cums again, breathy moans leaving her in pants as all of her muscles spasm.
Yuuta drops his forearm to the mattress, his hand pushing some of her hair away from her face before tracing gently over her cheek.  Her eyes were still shut, lips parted as she came down from her high and tried to catch her breath.  They’re both hot and sticky with sweat and various other juices ruining the sheets, but right now neither of them care in the slightest.
He just wants to stay here for as long as possible and enjoy how pretty she looks underneath him.
“I can feel you staring” She mumbles, peeking an eye open to catch him in the act.  He chuckles at her, pressing his hand against her cheek, heart fluttering when she pushes her face further into the warmth, despite being hot and sweaty, his heat was comforting.
“Can’t help it,” He murmurs back, pecking his lips to the tip of her nose.  “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” He praises.  “Even prettier naked.  And under me.  Bonus points” 
Now she’s the one to giggle quietly, her eyes crinkling and her cheeks flushing with color.
“Be right back,” He hums, kissing her nose again before climbing off the bed, grabbing his sweats from the floor and pulling them on with tired movements before leaving the room.
He must not have been gone long, because when he’s back (y/n) feels like it still wasn’t enough time to catch her breath.  But she smiles when she sees he’s brought a glass of water and a damp rag.
He hands her the water before he slides her legs open to gently clean up the sticky mess they’d both made.  He does his best to be careful, knowing she was overly sensitive.  When he’s done he tosses the rag into his laundry bin and turns back to her with a smile.
“C’mon,” He hums, sliding his hands around her hips.  “Let’s get you into clean clothes, too” 
She sits up with his help, and he leaves the bed in search of clean panties and a cozy set of pajamas.  She gets dressed with his help too, although she insists she could’ve done it herself.
“Thank you,” She hums once she’s in clean clothes.  “I’ll have to wash my sheets-” 
“We can do it tomorrow,” Yuuta hums, scooping her up from the bed with a grin.  (y/n) smiles as she leans her head against his shoulder, not even bothering to tease him for needlessly carrying her from her room to his.  “I just want to spend the rest of tonight with you” 
“M’kay” She murmurs sleepily, and thanks him again when they’re in his room and he’s laying her down in his sheets.
As soon as he’s settled into his side she wiggles closer, pressing him onto his back so that she can lay on top of his warm chest, humming contentedly like a cat in a patch of sunshine once her leg is thrown over his and his hand cradles the back of her head.
Yuuta pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a few moments longer than necessary, hoping he could convey every last feeling he held for her through the simple affection.
“I love you, (y/n)” He murmurs softly.
Lazily, her hand reaches around until she finds his, fingers pushing his palm open and sliding across it until she slots them between his.  He curls his fingers over her hand, squeezing gently, before letting his thumb trace along hers mindlessly.
She tilts her head until her chin rests on his chest, just close enough to look at him properly without being uncomfortable.  A soft smile curls on her lips, which he quickly mirrors.
“I love you, Yuuta,” She whispers back, before sliding up closer to him, propping herself up on a shaky elbow, her fingers also trembling as they touch softly against his chin, and then his lips, tracing the curve of his smile, pressing into the plush of his bottom lip, all the while watching with eyes holding nothing short of pure adoration.  “A lot,” She adds almost as an afterthought, before leaning downwards, pausing just short of his lips.  “Thank you for not letting me slip away,” She tells him, staring so deep into the dark oceans of his eyes that she wonders if she could drown in them.  “Thank you for not letting me go” 
His smile softens, and the hand that he had tangled in her hair slides to the nape of her neck, before reaching for her cheek.
“Me? Let you go?” He chuckles warmly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiles at her.  He guides her face closer to his.  “Never,” He mumbles, before sealing their lips together in a long, gentle kiss.  When they part, he holds her close so their foreheads touch, gazing up at her fondly.  “You’re my moon and stars, pretty girl” 
A flash of recognition lights up in her eyes, and her heart melts just a little more for him.
“Is that so?” She teases, but her words are faint, whispered against his lips with barely any volume behind them.  He smiles, brushing his nose over hers playfully.
“Mhm,” He hums.  “Always have been” 
“Then I guess that makes you…” She trails off thoughtfully, before her eyes light up and she looks down at him again.  “The sun,” She murmurs.
Yuuta laughs, his brows furrowing together in disbelief and humor.
“Don’t laugh,” (y/n) pouts.  “I mean it.  You are the sun.  My sun” She adds the last part bashfully.
“I think that’s the afterglow talking” He teases with a chuckle, dropping his head back into his pillow.  (y/n) grins, wiggling closer until she slid her body overtop of his, straddling one of his legs and beaming down at him when he wrapped his hands around her hips, slipping them under the tee shirt she had on.
“Maybe,” She drawled, both of them giggling quietly to themselves.  “But it’s true.  You’re bright, and warm…” She trails off, sliding her hands up his chest and giggling before cupping his face and leaning over to smile right at him.  “You shine and make my every day… better because of it” 
His lips part, taken aback by the sudden sweet words.  (y/n’s) cheeks are pink, but she doesn’t shy away from his gaze, only leans closer to brush her lips over his.
“Who knew you were a softie?” He hums, hooking a finger under her chin to keep her close.
“Well, like you said,” She furrows her brow in mock seriousness.  “Afterglow” 
He chuckles, shaking his head before pulling her chin downward so he could slant his lips over hers properly.
She melts down into him, the simple kiss turning into a lazy makeout session that only got messier and lazier the more she sunk into him.  He chuckles when her tongue glides across his bottom lip, breaking the kiss.
“I can feel you fallin’ asleep, baby” He teases, cupping her cheek and tucking her down into him, before grabbing his blanket and pulling it over them both.  (y/n) pouts.
“Wasn’t fallin’ asleep” She mutters back.  He hums in disbelief.
“S’ok.  There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow, yeah?” He asks, sliding his hand over her hip and caressing soothing circles into her skin.  “And the next day… and the next day…” 
She giggles quietly at him before giving in and settling comfortably against him.  He kisses her forehead once, twice, and then a third time just because.
“Alright, alright.  Want to go get breakfast tomorrow?” She asks before yawning, and only sinking deeper into the cozy warmth that was him afterwards.
“Askin’ me on a date?” Yuuta muses, but nods his head right away.  “I’m in” 
“Okay, then, it’s official” She mumbles, smiling into his neck.
“Official” He murmurs back, smiling stupidly to himself even long after she’s gone to sleep on top of him. ___
bonus:
[maki] : for the record, i told you boning was the way to go.
[mai] : don’t be gross. just be happy for them. [mai] : but. ya.  glad u boned ur way to happily ever after you cute n sexy bunnies!!!
[maki] : but what I said was gross?? blegh :p
[(y/n)] : ur both gross but i &lt;3 you anyways [(y/n)] : besides, the stuff toge said to yuuta was waaaay weirder o_O ___
xoxo ~ jordie
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