#they have to have something they didn’t have before

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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[rafecameroninterlude]

[🍩] soft!dom!rafe x breeding kink x corruption kink😜😜 with hella dirty talk😫

warnings: bambi!reader, innocent!reader, established relationship, making out, heavy petting, pussy slapping, oral (f. receiving), rafe is messyyyyy lol, unprotected sex, rough sex, crying, blood (very little, it’s from a bite lol), breeding, multiple orgasms, rafe slaps you just once, corruption kink, lots of dirty talk, first time, loss of virginity, fingering, finger sucking, hair pulling, slapping, soft aftercare, brief mentions of having kids

a/n: i think i got really carried away with this but breeding kink with bambi was something i wanted to write but was unsure of how to start it lol so thank you so much for this request 🤍

rafe was in heaven right now and he wasn’t even inside of you yet. he kissed you gently, the feeling of your fingers stroking his face while he caged you between his arms was everything he didn’t know he needed. “you show up in this pretty little dress of yours, did you have this planned?” you gasped when you felt his hand snake under the soft material of your dress, his touch skimming over the waistband of your underwear. “no. ‘just wanted to look pretty for you..” you whispered, those doe eyes of yours beaming up at the man on top of you. “you do. you look perfect.” rafe sighed.

slipping his tongue in your mouth, your eyebrows drew together as you couldn’t help but move your hips against the thigh he had between your legs. rafe looked down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you rut against him. “does that feel good?” he hiked your dress up, wanting a better view of your clothed cunt. you hummed, your skin flushing as rafe concentrated on the way you moved underneath him. hands roaming your body, there wasn’t an inch of you that went untouched. slipping your dress off, rafe marveled at the sight of your bare chest.

despite you two being together for a while, the furthest you two had ever gotten was making out and a little groping here and there, but that was it. rafe had no problem waiting until you were ready to go there. you shivered, the chilly air of rafe’s room making your nipples harden right before his eyes. “fuck, bambi..” he cupped one of your tits, a whimper leaving your lips when he leaned down and took the other in his mouth. “are you okay if i do this?” you glanced down at his hand moving your underwear to the side. meeting his eyes, you nodded. “please.”

rafe watched your face morph into one of full blown pleasure when he gathered the wetness at your entrance and glided the tips of his fingers to your clit. “you’re soaked.” he laughed, making you turn your head away from him out of shyness. grabbing your chin, rafe squeezed your cheeks together and forced you to look at him as his fingers started working your sensitive bundle of nerves. you were instantly trying to draw away from his digits, the motions being far too much for you at once. “shhh, don’t run from it,” he licked a stripe up the column of your throat, “let me watch you.” he smiled teasingly.

you smiled back, only for it to be wiped from your face when he slapped your folds, the sensation making you jolt. despite it stinging for a quick second, you started chasing his hand for more. “you want another one?” he slapped you again, this time making your thighs shake, “my little whore likes that, huh?” you were surprised at the name calling, but even more suprised when you found out you liked it. “talk to me, baby. tell me what you want..” his lips ghosted over yours. rafe had gotten you so wet, you could hear your slick with each stroke of his fingers. “wanna go all the way with you, ray..”

rafe swore he could hear the angels singing. he’s been waiting, anticipating for this day to come. “yeah?” he kissed you, slotting himself between your thighs before pulling away from your cunt. “yes. ‘want you so bad!” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. you watched him pop his fingers in his mouth, sucking the remnants of you off of his digits. oh, god. pulling him close, you kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. taking your underwears off in one swift movement, you palmed rafe in his shorts, your eyes widening when you felt how large he was in your hand.

“you’ll be fine, baby. i’m gonna take such good care of you..” in rafe’s mind, you had already did this before, but the look on your face was starting to make him think otherwise. his suspicions were confirmed when you looked up at him with watery eyes. “is it going to hurt?” you whimpered, his erection resting heavily on your tummy. rafe studied you for a moment. “you’ve never had sex before?” you shook your head, biting your lip nervously. rafe felt so wrong for being so turned on at the revelation. “have you ever touched yourself?” rafe was on the brink of losing his mind. “no..”

that was it. this man was going to ruin you. “i’m sorry, it’s embarrassing.” you pouted, looking away from him. embarrassing? rafe felt like he could cum right then and there. “that’s not embarrassing at all, baby.” he reassured you, moving away any stray hairs you might’ve had in your face. “you know what that means? that means i get to turn you into my own personal little slut.” his words made butterflies flutter in your stomach. rafe unbuckled his belt, his shorts and boxers now long forgotten. despite being horny out of his mind, rafe still checked to make sure you were okay.

“are you sure about this, bambi?” you watched as he snaked down your body, hooking your thighs to his shoulders. a shaky breath left your lips, your hands intertwining with his as he pressed kisses to your flesh. “yes, i want you-” you were cut off by rafe’s tongue delving into your sweetness. your back arched off of his mattress, your thighs threatening to snap around his head. the only word you could use to describe the noises in rafe’s room was lewd. the slurping, grunting, moaning, it was all hitting you at once that this was actually happening.

rafe was so hard already, his own fist wrapped around his cock as he sloppily lapped at your soaked pussy. he couldn’t get enough. instinctively, you couldn’t help your hips from grinding against his face, your boyfriend doing everything to make you tremble and shake in pure bliss. you freed one of your hands from his grip and trailed it up your chest, squeezing your tit while rafe groaned at the sight. “i haven’t even put any fingers in you, baby, you’re going to be a mess by the time i actually fuck you.” you cried out when he sucked your clit, his middle finger prodding at your entrance.

gasping at the intrusion, rafe shushed you as you whimpered at the unfamiliar stretch. “how are we doing, sweetheart?” he looked up at you, cursing under his breath. you were so fucking tight, he could only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. “..hurts a little.” you took a breath, moaning when he curled his digit. “it’ll feel good soon, i promise baby. ‘gonna make you cum so fucking much.” he continued working on your clit, the added stimulation making your eyes screw shut. rafe waited until you were gasping his name before entering a second finger.

you practically screamed, your hands shooting down to dig your nails into his skin. “rafe, i think i’m!-” you froze, your eyes rolling back as you felt a wave of euphoria wash over you. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. suddenly you couldn’t breathe, your mouth falling open in a silent moan before your legs started to shake. rafe knew you were cumming and it only made him go rougher on you, wanting your first orgasm to be unforgettable. inserting a third finger, your eyes shot open as you thrashed against his sheets, your body trying to retract from him.

“r-rafe, s’too much! i can’t!” your words came out choppy with each breath you tried to take, your boyfriend eventually bringing you down from your high. you had tears rolling down your cheeks, your entire body feeling like jelly as rafe came up from between your thighs. the lower half of his face, and even the tip of his nose, was glistening with your slick. rafe had given you a taste of something you soon felt like you couldn’t get enough of. rafe grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to look down where he lined his cock up with your entrance.

you met each other’s eyes, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, before he slammed into you, both of you having two different reactions. while rafe doubled over, absolutely enthralled by how tight you were, you were crying, your nails leaving crescents in rafe’s side. you were only able to take half of his length, but rafe was determined to give you the whole thing by the time he was done. while the feeling wasn’t exactly painful, you just felt so full. rafe took your lips in a searing kiss, pulling out before thrusting into you again. “you feel so fucking good, you know that?” he praised you.

rafe started thrusting into you until any sense of discomfort melted away. “oh my god, look at you taking me so fucking well..” rafe whispered against your skin, littering your neck and chest with kisses. wrapping your arms around his neck, you didn’t hold back from moaning underneath him. “rafe go faster, please!” your boyfriend smiled, pulling away momentarily to see that dark look in your eyes. “whatever you want, baby.” you cried out when his hips slammed into your own, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “oh, rafe..” you shuddered, now that you were filled to the brim.

“you’re so perfect, you want this dick everyday?” you nodded frantically, not seeing how you could go without it now. “yeah? i bet you do..” he laughed, “‘been wanting to corrupt you since i got you, baby. your sweet little innocent eyes looking up at me when i would rub you through your panties, you have no idea how bad i wanted to get you naked and fuck you until you were crying for me to stop.” he slapped your cheek, a gasp leaving your lips at the action. “look at you now, you’re gonna be begging for this all the time.. ‘might just fuck a baby into you, huh?” you whimpered at his words.

“i want that.” you panted, his pubic bone slamming down on your clit with each thrust. “yeah? you want me to fill you up? get you all pretty and pregnant?” god, what was happening to you? “yes, ray! i want it so bad, ‘want your babies!” now it was rafe’s turn to get hysterical, the idea of you growing round with his seed turned him on beyond belief. “fuck!” he grunted, “oh, i wanna see that so bad, ‘want you walking around tanneyhill with your tummy full. everyone will know what we did.. what you let me do to you.” rafe didn’t care if it was the heat of the moment making you two talk like this, he just knew that you were it for him.

“how about i breed you right now, bambi? you want that?” he hoped you’d say yes, considering he wasn’t going to last very long. when he felt you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in, he nearly lost it by how turned on he was that you wanted the same thing. “please give it to me!” you cried, your boyfriend pulling you into his chest where he embraced you, making you unable to move away from him. you buried your face in his neck, biting down on his flesh as his hips stuttered, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum inside of you. you relished in the feeling, your walls milking him for all that he had.

“son of a- fuck! you’re squeezing me so fucking hard.” he shivered, the feeling of you gripping him from the base was undeniably the best thing he’s ever felt. reaching down, rafe rubbed hard circles on your clit until you came around him, only making you spasm even more. after you had raked your nails down his torso, and drew blood from biting him so hard, rafe had pulled out of you with a hiss, not a single drop of cum dribbling out. you had taken it all. “holy shit, are you okay, babe?” you looked spent. droopy eyes, swollen lips, tear stained cheeks, rafe thought you couldn’t get any more prettier than this.

you spotted the bite mark on his neck. “ray, you’re bleeding..” you attempted to sit up but failed pathetically when your arms gave out from under you. “s’okay.. stay right here, i’ll be right back.” you were dazed, your vision hazy as rafe went to grab a cold towel. when he came back, the blood from the curve of his neck was gone and he wrapped you in his sheets. dabbing the towel on your forhead, you suppressed a giggle at his ministrations. “i’m okay, rafe.” you pecked his cheek, grabbing his arm so he could spoon you. pressing a kiss to your temple, he massaged soothing circles into your side.

“you were so good for me, baby..” he whispered, his words making your heart flutter in your chest. “you promise i wasn’t some amateur?” rafe shushed you, a laugh tumbling from his mouth. “no way, you were great. i don’t know how we’re gonna get through a day without ravaging each other.” you hummed, already daydreaming about the next time. “did you mean what you said earlier? about wanting a baby?” rafe turned you around so you were face to face. you trailed a finger down his jaw. “well, i’ve always wanted kids..” you smiled. “with me though?” rafe’s eyes softened when you nodded.

“with only you..”

[1d1195]

Independent

~10.6k words

From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.

Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.

Summary: “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaid’s dress she wore to one of her friends’ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.

Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.

Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy 😍

Do you hear that thundering sound? That’s my heart 😍 Rachel continued.

She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.

Don’t shake your head. Say something! At least you’re single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.

“Do you have an emergency?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she smiled. “Not at all.”

*

Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one another’s desks.

It seemed, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work, there was no issue.

Which was fine by Harry.

He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. “Hi, m’Harry,” Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.

Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harry’s faced his boss’ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldn’t see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.

She had a little plant near her window—a bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldn’t tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her L’s was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?

A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, “we love you” and “you’re so sweet.”

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled up at him to introduce herself. “Welcome to the team, are you having a good first day?”

He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. “I think m’in love with you,” she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. M’serious,” he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t right to say it while they were alone, but he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.

Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. “That’s... very forward,” she reminded him. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was going t’hold off on saying it until tomorrow, but m’unable t’contain it. You’re very beautiful and everyone seems t’go t’you when they need help, so I imagine you’re a lovely person,” he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. “M’going t’go t’lunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jus’ wanted to tell you,” he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“Nice meeting you Harry,” she called after him a smile on her lips.

He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. “Don’t forget t’eat, kitten,” he called.

*

But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasn’t each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.

Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didn’t seem right.

“Harry!” Val called from behind her. “Are you enjoying your first day?”

“Immensely,” did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.

“Did you just move to town?” Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.

Even if she wasn’t going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.

“I did, m’actually looking for a place t’live if y’know of any places. M’at a hotel until m’on m’feet.”

Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. “Mary Poppins has a room!” Rachel shouted.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Her roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know he’s good to go!”

Harry chuckled. “Um... who’s Mary Poppins?”

The whole office giggled. “Miss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?” Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.

This was mortifying. Wasn’t this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. There’s a nice kitchen, all new appliances.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. “Val looks like she’s going to bounce out of her seat,” Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.

“Tell him about your living room!” Val sounded like she was bouncing.

“Water’s included.”

“She’s the cutest interior designer. It’s so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,” Rachel continued.

“Rent would be about twelve hundred,” she ignored her so-called friends.

“She bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. It’s seriously the coziest place I’ve ever been,” Val kept going.

“In-unit washer and dryer.”

“Then she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. It’s incredible,” Rachel’s sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?

“You get your own parking spot,” she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I think that’s it,” she met Harry’s eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.

“Harry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.”

“M’sure I would,” he chuckled. “Could I see it sometime?” He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. “Whenever you’re free. Doesn’t have t’be today.”

“Today’s fine!” Rachel assured him. “She doesn’t do anything on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Today is fine,” she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.

But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.

*

True to her friends’ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.

There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. “You’re very clean.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “Y’don’t need t’apologize,” he put his hands in his pockets, so he didn’t do something crazy like hold her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I won’t have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then I’ll be kind of freaked out.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I like t’think m’pretty clean myself,” he assured her. “I also...” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. “Y’friends kinda put y’on the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,” he bit his lip. “Y’don’t have t’feel obligated t’house me.”

“I don’t,” she promised. “I need a roommate and like Val said,” she shrugged. “She did your background check so I assume you won’t kill me, probably. At least not because you’re a serial killer. Maybe because I’m too clean.”

He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. “Thank you, m’really appreciative.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry. Sorry we’ll be around each other a lot.”

That didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. “I think it’ll be okay. We didn’t really talk much today,” he shrugged. “If y’get sick of me, m’sure I can find another place t’live,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be necessary. But okay,” she sighed. “You can move in whenever,” she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. “I have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.”

“S’very kind of you, kitten, but y’don’t need t’do that. M’not going t’have all that much stuff. M’friend Louis lives not too far from here. He’ll come help me.”

“Offer stands,” she assured him.

Harry’s eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. “Are those your old roommate’s boxes?” He asked.

She nodded. “Two of them. I’m supposed to bring them to her, but they’re super heavy so I’m like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. It’s going to be two trips and I’m just being a little lazy about it.”

“I can bring them down,” he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. “Still probably two trips,” he nodded.

“Oh, I can take—”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself. Let me,” he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.

“Oh, thank you that’s... thank you,” she swallowed, feeling grateful.

“Not a problem,” he assured her and left immediately.

When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. “Do you mind decorations?”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Can I help?”

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “Um... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.”

“M’fine,” he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. “Can I hang something for you? M’good for height.”

Harry wasn’t that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. “That would be awesome,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kitten,” he smiled.

*

Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadn’t brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.

Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.

No. She wasn’t disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didn’t fall in love with her.

It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.

He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.

But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. “Seriously?” She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldn’t possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Harry, I can’t date my roommate.”

“Pretty sure s’how most rom-coms start,” he smiled. “S’okay. I’ll ask again later. Have a nice night,” he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.

*

Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.

But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.

She couldn’t believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. “I’ve always wanted one of these. They’re so expensive,” she blinked. “How do you have one?”

“M'sister got one when she got married,” he explained. “But she doesn’t bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.”

“Can we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?”

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. “Course. Anything else?”

She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. “This is stunning,” her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasn’t sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. “This would look amazing in the living room.”

“Bring it,” he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartment’s décor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.

“It’s your place too, Harry,” she reminded him. “Is there anything you want there?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Y’seem t’have everything, kitten. M’not picky.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest,” she pouted. “Like you should bring these,” she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. “I can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.”

He grinned. “Sure,” he shrugged. “If y’think s’what I should do.”

“Alright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if there’s anything else you want once you’re settled a bit?”

“Course.”

They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled.

“Hey kitten,” he said leaning against the door before he left. “Will y’go on a date with me?”

“Harry,” she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. “Will you?”

“I can’t go on a date with you, Harry,” she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.

“Then I’ll ask again another time,” he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.

*

“Hey Poppy, did y’want t’go get lunch with me?” Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Poppy,” he repeated. “Poppy,” he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.

“Me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you call me Poppy?”

“Well, m’assuming s’your favorite flower,” it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. “Also, everyone else calls y’Mary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still don’t know why, but I wanted t’be different. Want you t’know s’me when y’hear me talking t’you.”

Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. “I see. Sorry,” she smirked.

“Anyway,” he came over to stand by her desk. “Do y’want t’get lunch?”

“Harry, I told you I don’t date.”

“M’not asking as a date. M’asking as your coworker who has never seen y’eat a bite of food while you’re at work. M’asking as your concerned roommate who worries y’don’t eat until y’get home for dinner. And I don’t even want t’think ‘bout how long y’go without eating when you’re at your second job.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I don’t go out to lunch with everyone,” she explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while I’m here,” she gestured to her desk. “Lunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.”

“Well do you bring lunch?” He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasn’t eating.

“I do, it’s in the breakroom. I’ll get it in a minute,” she promises. “Go, you’re wasting your lunch hour.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. “Hey Poppy,” he smiled.

“Yeah?” She asked without looking up from her screen.

“Now that y’mention it though, will y’go out with me?”

*

At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldn’t be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldn’t take out the trash and he didn’t mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.

He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didn’t have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didn’t find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

Harry bought groceries and didn’t ask for any money from them. “M’sure you’ll buy stuff too,” he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.

Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. “Will you try one?” She asked, hope in her voice.

Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). “I’ll try again,” he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.

*

“Mary!” Val sang. “Do you have the stain stick?” She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.

It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. “S’impressive,” he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.

“That’s nothing,” Rachel said from the other end of the room. “Miss Poppins,” she smiled delightedly. “I have a missing button,” she told her.

That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.

“Hair tie!” Someone called from the other side of the room.

“Lint roller!”

They all called out items and she had every single one.

“Do you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?” Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. “You’re getting a raise, Poppins,” he called.

Hunter turned to look at Harry. “I gave her the nickname,” he explained.

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“If you need it, chances are she has it.”

“If she doesn’t, she adds it,” Val explained.

Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didn’t want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?

*

Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. “Holy hell you said he was cute, not hot,” she gaped.

“Aw, y’think m’cute, Poppy?” He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didn’t need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.

“I should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.”

“Didn’t you buy Matt high-end cologne?”

“Hence why I think he’s so hot,” Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.

“Sorry Harry, we’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“Take y’time. M’not in a rush.”

“Oh, you should come out!” Joey squealed. “Harry, please! She’s always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No offense, Harry.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t want t’impose. Plus m’in need of a shower.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.

“Can you not?” She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.

He laughed again and shook his head. “Y’can call if y’need something,” he assured her.

“Harry, please come out! You can meet us there!” Joey said again.

She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasn’t going to get out of it. Not if he didn’t have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didn’t need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.

“I can wait for you,” she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Poppy.”

*

Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.

Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. “Y’don’t dance?”

“Oh...maybe later. I’m not very good,” she admitted. “I like dancing with Joey because she’s worse than me.”

She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. “Thanks Mary,” she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.

Jaylen was next. Joey’s twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.

The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.

She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.

After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harry’s mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.

“Are y’cold?” He asked.

She shook her head.

But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasn’t totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasn’t cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasn’t obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a sound and her facial expression didn’t change.

But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. “Y’don’t have t’lie t’me, Poppy. M’your roommate and all. I know y’like the apartment a toasty temperature.”

She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

Harry really enjoyed holding her.

*

At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldn’t she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylen’s girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.

Joey and Matt waved goodbye. “Bye Hot Roommate,” Joey called waving to Harry specifically.

“Jesus, Joey,” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice meeting you Harry,” he called.

Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. “Go on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.

She elbowed him. “I can’t go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.”

He shrugged. “I’ll ask later,” he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. “You’re an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,” he listed. “Whoever y’end up with, m’going t’be very jealous,” he assured her.

She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. “Thank you, Harry.”

*

For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didn’t go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating.  

He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.

It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didn’t like it).

Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).

She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.

He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. “Poppy?” He asked. She looked up at him. “Go on a date with me, please," his expression soft.

She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadn’t caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didn’t drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. “That's very sweet, Harry. But I don’t date.”

It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. He thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. “I just don’t date, Harry. I like being friends,” she told him.

He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. “If I hadn’t told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. “I’ll keep asking then.”

*

When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. “Oh, come on, Poppy,” he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. “S’not fighting fair,” he frowned.

She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. “I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he grumbled. “M’so jealous I won’t get t’dance with you,” he pouted.

She shook her head. “I don’t usually dance at weddings when I go alone,” she explained.

“Well, y’should’ve told me. I would’ve been your date.”

“Harry—”

“Platonic date,” he rolled his eyes. “This is worse than when y’wore that pencil skirt t’work,” he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. “An outfit change?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “My sister is wearing green.”

Harry frowned. “So?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just...” she shrugged. “It’s alright. I like this dress just fine.”

But it wasn’t green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. “But—”

“Seriously, Harry. It’s fine.”

The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. “Well when can y’wear it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Season’s almost over for a wintergreen like that,” she shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. “Go on a date with me, Poppy.”

The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Please? Do it for the sake of that dress,” he pleaded. “We don’t even have t’call it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever y’want. Y’jus’ need t’wear it before y’can’t.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry. But I can’t.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome, Poppy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesn’t make it home to you, then we’re going to have to go there anyway.”

It didn’t replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.

“Sure, Poppy. I’d love to.”

*

She didn’t need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.

Even when she should have asked.

Harry didn’t notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didn’t invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.

Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.

When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. “Sorry I took your reading spot,” she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. “Thank you for driving,” she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.

“You’re gonna sleep there?” He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.

“Harry,” she protested.

“We’re grown adults,” he reminded her. “We can share a bed without it being weird. S’like a hotel room.”

“Harry,” she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. “I can’t—”

“M’not letting y’sleep in a chair or on the floor. So, it’s m’bed or y’aren’t sleeping,” he shrugged.

She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasn’t touching him. She smelled good in his room too.

“Night, Harry,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Poppy,” he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldn’t break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldn’t.

It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.

It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.

*

Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didn’t. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.

Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.

Harry was worried she wasn’t eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.

Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.

The poor thing looked exhausted. She didn’t join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. “I miss reading,” she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. “My eyes are exhausted though,” she rubbed them for good measure. “I think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t burn yourself out, Poppy,” he rolled his eyes. “What are y’reading?”

“I’ve been trying t’read this book for months,” she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.

Then, he started reading.

Out loud.

“Harry,” she whispered her eyes wide.

“Yeah?” He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. “M’starting over, because I want t’know what’s happening,” he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to feel.

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.

Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.

*

Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didn’t say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a week’s worth of drinks in advance.

He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.

One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harry’s key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didn’t like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.

Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone else’s.

Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinner—a soup that took hours and hours to make.

He didn’t even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.

“Poppy,” he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. “Go on a date with me, kitten.”

“I can’t.”

“S’not so hard,” he assured her. “You sit across from me and be yourself because m’already in love with you,” he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. “I tell y’how stunning y’look, I pay for you t’eat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that you’re probably too full t’eat and then I can kiss you wherever y’want. Lips, cheek, forehead,” he shrugged. “Then we come home, and I’ll read a chapter of your book. Y’can decide if y’want t’go on a second date.”

She giggled, her cheeks red. “I can’t, Harry,” she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.

His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.

Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.

For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she can’t go on a date with him. She didn’t date. That he was crazy.

Not that she didn’t want to. She didn’t say no.

Hope bloomed inside him.

*

She didn’t need anything. She didn’t need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didn’t deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.

All he did was make her soup.

She deserved so much more.

It almost seemed too obvious that they hadn’t done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.

“You’re staring, Styles,” she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.

“Go on a date with me,” he smiled.

She blushed, shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“You haven’t said no.”

"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.

“No, you’ve never said no,” he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldn’t. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. “I remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me t’hear y’say, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'can’t or that y'don’t date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'don’t want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going t’keep asking until y'say y'don’t want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. M’sure it does make me crazy. But I don’t care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'don’t want to.”

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.

"Kitten," he murmured. She didn’t look up. “Poppy,” he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. “Go on a date with me,” his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.

She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please don’t stop asking me.

As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.

"Only 'bout you, Poppy.”

*

Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.

He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.

Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.

It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.

Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.

“Harry?”

He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didn’t have the number saved. “Speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” the voice sighed. “It’s Joey,” she said. “Harry. Something’s wrong. She won’t stop crying and she won’t say anything but your name.”

He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didn’t even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.

He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasn’t sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.

He didn’t knock as he hurried barefoot into Joey’s apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.

“Poppy?” he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. “M'here. M'here, baby. It’s okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. “Oh kitten,” he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. “M’sorry, baby. M'here. S’okay. Tell me. Please. I’ll make it better,” he promised.

Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.

"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.

Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.

"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.

*

Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.

But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.

“Harry?” Her voice was raw.

“Hmm?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.

“Will you go on a date with me?” She whispered.

He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. “God, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.” She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d take y’right now. Whenever y’want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing t’be sorry for.”

"I have issues."

"We can work on them together."

"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.

"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."

"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.

She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."

Harry nodded. "Well—"

"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn’t devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. I’m not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, don’t I? I don’t know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I don’t think that’s...fair."

It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.

Harry tilted her chin up. "M’going to love you the right way,” he promised. “M’going to love you the way y’want because that's what y’deserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If that’s the case m’probably dead because s’the only possible explanation,” she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. “But it's not going to be a problem, kitten. M’going to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. M’going to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. M’going to love you the way you love," he promised. “Because s’an honor to love you,” he assured her. “S’an honor to be loved by you.”

She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.

"What, Poppy?"

"Do you love me already?"

"Of course I do."

She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. “Can we go home?”

“Course, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.

He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. “Harry,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"

“I’m in love with you too.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[fastandcarlos]

Drunken Kisses : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: there are all kinds of drunks, but you're definitely the type to pour your heart out, as lewis quickly realises

Lewis’ eyes rolled the moment he heard you groaning through the house, swinging his legs round and standing up from the sofa. Despite your promises not to get yourself drunk on your night out with your colleagues, he knew straight away that you hadn’t kept to that promise. 

His smile turned up though when he saw how giggly you were walking through the house, heading straight in Lewis’ direction on your unsteady feet. His arm came around your frame to support you, carefully guiding you to the sofa and safely sitting you down. 

“I missed you,” you whispered, resting your body against Lewis’, pressing several kisses against his cheek. “You should’ve come out with us tonight, we had such a great time.” 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Lewis mused, barely able to get his words out between the feeling of your lips pressing against him. 

Lewis didn’t quite know what to do as you scattered several kisses over him, your hands cupping his head to keep him still. The smell of liquor lingered on your breath as you smothered Lewis with as much love as you possibly could. 

When you moved for a moment, Lewis spoke up. “Do you think you might want to let me breathe?” 

“You’re already breathing,” you sighed, tapping against his arm. “You wouldn’t be talking to me right now if you weren’t breathing silly,” you scoffed, hearing a chuckle come from Lewis. 

“Do you think it’s time for bed?” Lewis suggested, but your head immediately shook in reply to him. 

You finally moved back from Lewis, but your eyes remained firmly on him, studying him closely. Lewis didn’t quite know how to react until he watched a tear roll down your cheek, reaching out and wiping it away for you before asking you what was wrong. 

“Are they happy tears?” He nervously asked, bringing his hands to hold either side of your face instead. “Did something happen whilst you were out that you’re not telling me?” 

Your head shook quickly, not wanting Lewis to worry with his eyes still on you. As you continued to remain quiet, Lewis couldn’t help but fret though. Your heart was racing as you toyed with the idea of opening up to Lewis what the reason for your tears was. 

“You have to promise that you’re not going to laugh at me.” 

Lewis hummed as his hand brushed gently through your hair, tucking you into his side. He held onto you tightly, biting down on his lip to make sure that his laughter was stifled as he waited for you to tell him what was going on. 

It was one of the things you hated about when you got drunk, how you suddenly found yourself overcome with emotion. As you arrived home to Lewis, that emotion hit you in a wave, feeling your heart swell with happiness when you were greeted by his figure walking through the front door. 

“It scares me sometimes how much I love you,” you whispered, brushing your hand against Lewis’ cheek. “Have I ever told you how much I’m actually in love with you?” 

“Love,” Lewis whispered, fighting back his urge to chuckle in surprise as to the reason for your tears. “You don’t need to do this.” 

“But I do, because you make me so unbelievably happy Lewis.” 

Before Lewis could speak, you leaned forwards and trailed several sloppy kisses along Lewis’ jaw, feeling the stubble on his face tickle against your slightly chapped lips. 

Your conversation went on for quite some time as Lewis sat back and let you get everything off of your chest. Although he always knew how you felt about him, he hadn’t heard you be quite so honest before. But that was what they always said about drunk people, the truth finds a way to spill. 

You had no recollection of heading to bed that night, confident however that Lewis would’ve taken good care of you and made sure that you got to bed in one piece. 

When you woke up the following morning, you found yourself with Lewis’ frame wrapped around you to keep you warm. He was already awake behind you, smiling away as he heard you groan and quickly shut your eyes again. 

“I’ve got so many regrets about last night.” 

“Good morning to you too,” Lewis teased, leaning forwards to press a kiss against your cheek. “I would ask how you’re feeling, but after the state you were in last night, I bet that I could have a pretty good guess about how you are.” 

Your eyes slowly peeled open again, this time a lot more prepared for the light in your bedroom, shuffling slightly in Lewis’ grip. “I don’t even want to know about anything that happened last night, just keep me safe from how embarrassing I was.” 

“You weren’t embarrassing, just a little lovesick.” 

“Oh no,” you whispered, hearing Lewis giggle jokingly, full of satisfaction knowing that he remembered exactly what you had to say to him last night. 

Lewis let you have your huff for a second before twirling you around in his hold so that you were facing him, clearing his throat to allow himself to fill you in. 

“At least I certainly know that you’re happy in this relationship, you made that quite clear.” 

“I don’t think I want to know.” 

“It was cute,” Lewis tried his best to assure you, “you certainly wanted to make sure that I was listening as well.” 

“Shut up,” you murmured, “can we just pretend that it didn’t happen?” 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Lewis whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I actually quite liked it, aside from the part when you didn’t let me move for your urge to kiss me repeatedly again and again.” 

Your head tilted back in disbelief, “I swear I don’t recognise the person that I become when I’m drunk, did I really do that to you? What must I have been thinking?” 

“Clearly you must’ve been thinking about just how much you love your amazing boyfriend.” 

“You’re enjoying this far too much for my liking,” you scolded. 

Lewis couldn’t help himself; it wasn’t that day to day you didn’t tell him how much you loved him, but when you were drunk that little extra came out that Lewis adored. 

As you fell silent, Lewis captured your attention again. “You know, for all you said last night, I want you to know that everything you said I feel the exact same way about you too.” 

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better,” you assured him. 

“I’m not saying it for that, I’m saying it because I mean it.” 

“Thank you,” you chuckled, “and sorry that I was such a mess last night, I don’t even know what happened to me.” 

“Don’t worry love, I could get used to receiving all those kisses anyway.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Guys I'm gonna pass out. He spoke to me this morning. Rahhh😭

♥︎~

"I dunno, girls. This is Bakugo we're talking about, Mr. 'I don't have time for your feelings'. What if he laughs at me when I tell him? I'm gonna be the laughing stock of the school!" You whine, burying your head into Jirous shoulders as she hugs you tightly.

"Well he'd have to be an ass to want to spread your name like that." The girl concludes, patting your back softly.

Suddenly, Mina is behind Jirou, using dainty fingers to lift your face up. She fixes the loose strands and tucks them behind your ears and whips out a tube of lip gloss.

"Pucker up, buttercup." She whispers, and you pout as she applies a layer of shiny pink to your lips. "Fix your posture. Your man is coming up the steps." She giggles, and you immediately stiffen, smoothing out your skirt while shooting her a glare.

Cautiously, you turn around, and sure enough, Kirishima is chatting up a storm to an obviously annoyed Bakugo. Your face heats up, and a shy smile meets your lips as the rest of them giggle behind you.

"Y/n, tell him good morning!" Mina whisper-yelled to you, almost laughing loudly at the horrified expression you have on your face.

"Me?! Why can't you do it?" You cry silently.

"Because I'm not into him! You are!"

You stood there, heart hammering in your chest, frozen as Bakugo and Kirishima approached. Mina and Jirou had fallen suspiciously quiet behind you, their earlier teasing replaced with expectant silence. You desperately wished you could disappear, every second feeling like an eternity.

Kirishima, all smiles and sunshine as usual, waved enthusiastically. “Morning, ladies!” he greeted cheerfully, stopping just in front of your little group.

“Hi, Kiri,” Mina returned with a grin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a word. Instead, you kept your eyes locked on the ground, hoping maybe—just maybe—you could get through this without embarrassing yourself.

Bakugo stayed a step behind Kirishima, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His usual scowl was fixed on his face, and the sight of him only made your nerves worse. He looked as irritable as ever, clearly annoyed to be dragged into this situation. You didn’t dare say anything, your throat tightening with every passing second.

Kirishima’s gaze shifted between you and Bakugo, catching onto the awkward tension. He gave Bakugo a not-so-subtle nudge with his elbow, grinning like he knew something the rest of you didn’t, which he did.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shooting Kirishima a sharp glare before looking back at you. His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might just ignore the situation altogether.

But then, in a voice so low you almost missed it, he mumbled, “Morning.”

It wasn’t enthusiastic. It wasn’t friendly. But it was something. And coming from Bakugo, it felt like a monumental effort.

Your heart skipped a beat, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to respond, but all you could manage was a small, "Hi".

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Who in their right mind says 'hi' to their crush?

Behind you, Mina and Jirou exchanged glances, but they didn’t push you this time. They stayed quiet, sensing that you were too shy to say anything. The silence hung in the air for a moment before Kirishima laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Guess we’ll see you around! Class starts in a few.” he said, tugging Bakugo by the sleeve to move him along.

Bakugo huffed in annoyance but didn’t resist, glancing back at you for the briefest moment before following Kirishima down the hall and through the doors of 1A.

You stood there, still unable to speak, replaying that one word over and over in your head, with your cheeks rivalling Kirishima's hair.

He said "morning."

To you.

♥︎~

Pt 1

Taglist : @vant3hell @succulent-momma @minkyungseokie

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK Men React to Seeing You in Their Clothes

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: fluff over fluff, I'm pretty sure I already wrote something like this but I can't find it anymore lol, all scenarios talk about the clothes of the said jjk men being big on you so please don't read if this isn't what you vibe with (but feel free to let me know if you want a version in which their clothes actually fit reader quite well!)

Gojo Satoru

The apartment is unusually quiet as you move through the living room, your bare feet padding lightly across the cool floor. Gojo had left early this morning to deal with some “business,” leaving you alone with nothing but a mess of his belongings scattered around. You’re not one to complain though - cleaning up after him has become second nature after spending so much time together.

As you tidy up his place, you come across one of his oversized hoodies. It’s sprawled across the back of a chair, still slightly wrinkled from when he wore it the night before. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you find yourself reaching for it.

It’s soft, much softer than you expected. You hold it for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully before a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. You slip the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you whole. The sleeves are comically long, almost covering your hands completely, and the hemline reaches down to your thighs. It’s so big that it feels like you’re wearing a blanket, and despite yourself, you giggle at the sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your legs up under the hoodie, and let yourself relax into the comfort of wearing something that smells like him. His signature cologne that follows him around wherever he goes, that makes your heart skip a beat every time you smell it. To be honest, you really miss him. These past weeks were so busy that you didn’t really get the chance to see him more than 2 hours before passing out sleeping. What you’d do for a whole afternoon, just you and him…

Not long after, you hear the oh so accustomed sound of the door unlocking, followed by the familiar voice of Satoru calling out, “I’m home!”

You stiffen for a moment, wondering how he’ll react, but you can’t hide now. Fuck, you never wore his clothes before. After all, they belong to him and you have no right to grab his stuff as you please.

Before you can say anything to defend yourself, Gojo steps into the living room, his bright blue eyes immediately locking onto you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

His sunglasses are perched on his head, revealing his crystalline eyes that seem to glow with delight.

“Did you raid my closet while I was gone?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Your place was cold. Figured I’d borrow something.”

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he walks over to you, crouching in front of the couch as he eyes you up and down. His grin widens as he takes in the way the hoodie completely engulfs you, making you look even smaller than usual.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, laced with something playful but undeniably affectionate.

He reaches out, tugging on one of the oversized sleeves gently.

“In fact, I think it suits you better than it does me.”

You scoff, though your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“That’s because it does.”

His grin is infuriatingly confident, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“But you, wearing my clothes? I think that might be my favorite look.”

He leans closer, his nose brushing against your temple before pressing a soft kiss there.

“You can keep it if you want,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t think I’m getting it back anyway.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft glow over Megumi’s small apartment. He’s still asleep, his dark hair a mess of unruly strands as he breathes softly beside you. You’ve been staying with him for the weekend, a rare break from the chaos of jujutsu sorcery.

As you quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, you feel the cool air hit your skin. Without thinking, you look around the room for something to cover yourself with. Your eyes land on one of Megumi’s plain black shirts, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It’s oversized, much bigger than anything you’d typically wear, but you shrug and grab it anyway.

Slipping it over your head, the fabric is soft and familiar, carrying the faint scent of him. It hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long and the hem falling halfway down your thighs. You glance at yourself in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something comforting about wearing his clothes, like having a part of him with you even when he’s asleep.

As you turn back toward the bed, you freeze. Megumi’s awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, still clouded with sleep as he watches you from the bed. You can’t quite read his expression -it’s a mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up early,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed your shirt.”

Megumi blinks, his gaze drifting over you slowly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can see the way his eyes linger on the way the shirt swallows you, how it looks like you’re drowning in fabric. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice quieter than before.

“It looks good on you,” he finally speaks out, a little awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure how to compliment you.

“Better than it does on me.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he seems, even though he’s trying to play it cool.

“Really? I think it’s a little big.”

Megumi shakes his head, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, almost shyly,

“You should wear my stuff more often.”

His words catch you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. Even though you know all too well that Megumi Fushiguro has a soft spot for you, you never really thought about stealing or borrowing his stuff. After all, he is the guy who slaps the back of Yuji’s head each and every day over stealing his sandwich or equipment. And now…he’s telling you straightforward that he wants you to wear his shirts?

“You want me to?”

He looks away, his usual stoic mask slipping just a bit as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

“I mean... yeah. It suits you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. Megumi isn’t one for big, flowery declarations, but this, this small, almost hesitant compliment, is enough to make your chest warm. You walk over to him, climbing back into bed and curling up beside him like you always do after waking up.

“Well, if you insist,” you mutter teasingly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I might just steal more of your clothes.”

Megumi huffs, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his loose shirt.

“I don’t mind.”

Yuta Okkotsu

You’ve been staying at Yuta’s apartment for the past few days, crashing at his place while you’re both on a break from missions. It’s been nice: quiet, peaceful, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company without the usual chaos of jujutsu high looming over you.

It’s late in the evening now, and you’ve just gotten out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day. As you towel off your hair, you realize you forgot to grab something to wear. Your suitcase is still in the living room, and you don’t really feel like walking out there in just a towel.

Your groan in frustration over your usual absent-mindlessness, eyes landing on one of Yuta’s old sweatshirts, folded neatly on the chair by his desk. It’s a little worn, clearly well-loved, and the idea of wearing something of his brings a smile to your face. Yuta definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing one of his shirts, right? And even if he did…you’d love to see that little blush creep up his face.

Without thinking twice, you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It’s oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, and the fabric is soft and cozy against your skin.

You’re adjusting the sleeves when the door creaks open slightly. You look up just as Yuta steps into the room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you.

“Oh, hey-” he starts, but then he freezes, his gaze locking onto the sweatshirt you’re wearing.

His face flushes almost instantly, a deep red creeping up his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Uh… is that…?”, Yuta stammers, clearly flustered.

You glance down at the sweatshirt and smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I forgot to grab my clothes, and this looked comfortable.”

Yuta blinks, his face still bright red, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind at all! It’s just… you look… um…”

He trails off, his eyes flicking away as if he’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

You giggle softly, stepping closer to him, to tease the hell out of him even more. That poor innocent boy who doesn’t even dare looking your direction when you stumble in the bathroom in the morning with noting but a shirt and panties on.

Even though you’ve been together for over a year by now.

“I look… what?”

Yuta clears his throat, still avoiding your gaze.

“You look… really cute,” he mutters, barely audible.

“In my sweatshirt, I mean.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile as you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Yuta.”

He finally meets your gaze, his face still red but his expression softening as he squeezes your hand back.

“You can wear my clothes anytime you want,” he says quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You grin, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I might just take you up on that.”

Yuta chuckles, his arms wrapping around you in return as he pulls you close.

 “I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Not at all.”

Nanami Kento

It’s late, and Nanami is still out on a mission. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, but the clock is ticking past midnight, and exhaustion is beginning to catch up with you. After all, you’ve had a long and exhausting day at work yourself.

You’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep, when the chill of the evening air prompts you to grab something warmer to wear.

Your own clothes are in the bedroom, and you don’t feel like moving that far. Instead, your eyes land on one of Nanami’s neatly folded dress shirts, sitting on the back of a chair. It’s probably not the warmest option, but the idea of wearing something of his feels comforting, like having a part of him with you while you wait for him to return.

You slip the shirt on, the crisp fabric soft against your skin. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but it’s cozy in its own way. You curl up on the couch again, pulling the sleeves over your hands and breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingers on the fabric.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the sound of the front door opening stirs you awake. You sit up groggily, blinking as Nanami steps inside, looking tired but unharmed. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Nanami’s lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he observes, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

You rub your eyes sleepily, nodding.

“It was cold, and I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Nanami walks over to you, his expression soft as he takes in the sight of you.

 “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“I didn’t expect to come home to this.”

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“If you don’t like it, I can-”

“I like it,” he cuts in, his tone firm but gentle.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand lingers at your cheek.

“I like it very much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch as you look up at him.

“I might have to borrow your clothes more often, then.”

Nanami chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re welcome to them,” he breathes out.

“Though I have to admit, you make my clothes look much better than I do.”

You laugh softly, your heart warming at his rare display of affection.

“I doubt that.”

Nanami shakes his head, his eyes soft and filled with affection as he looks at you.

“It’s true. But regardless, you’re welcome to them anytime” he insists.

With that, he sits down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body and the comfort of his shirt making you feel safe and content.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts to pull you back into sleep.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and soothing as he murmurs,

“Anytime, love.”

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[moonsgemini]

cherry wine - firefighter!rafe pt. 2

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

summary: Rafe’s job gets in the way of your first date, but you’re not mad about it.

warnings: teacher!reader x firefighter!rafe, fluff, mutual pining, flirting, sexy rafe, SMUT, fingering, fem rec oral, fem!reader, inaccurate descriptions of firefighter duties, alcohol, cursing

an: I have no idea how a fire fighters schedule works so I made it up bc it’s fiction. oh & do we like the long fics?? oh & it’s my birthday yay to 24

part one

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

The night at the bar Rafe made sure you were sober to drive. He had you drink lots of water and even ordered you a plate of fries. His mind wandering off when you would lick the salt off your fingers. He was gone for you from the start and he didn’t mind one bit.

After walking you to your car he asked for your number and promised to see you the next day. Leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and permanent butterflies. The whole drive home you belted out the lyrics to your favorite pop music, feeling like a high school girl with a crush.

Rafe drove him in silence with a grin on his face. When he got home and texted you that he had a great time and couldn’t wait to see you again that grin never vanished. It only widened when you replied reciprocating the same feelings.

The next day came and a couple hours before picking you up Rafe got called into the station. Instead of texting he called you wanting to make sure you knew he wasn’t flaking. You believed him of course. Yet you couldn’t help the natural feeling of disappointment that flowed through your bones.

That feeling was soothed when he texted you late that night that he had finally gotten back to the station. Along with that he sent a picture of the station dog Max on his lap. You couldn’t help the way your mouth watered at the sight of his veiny big hand that was resting in the golden retrievers fur. In return you sent back a picture of your steaming mug of tea and a horror movie playing on the tv in the back.

It sparked a conversation about movies which led to you and Rafe talking non stop the following week. Besides the times you were teaching and he was out training or helping people.

Rafe promised you a proper date that upcoming Friday. Making sure to let you know that he would do anything to make it work out this time. You reassured him it was okay if something came up again. That made his heart burst, it wasn’t often that someone was willing to work with his hectic schedule.

-

The outfit you had planned for the previous weekend still sat on your vanity chair waiting to be worn. And hopefully waiting to be taken off. You had finished your hair and makeup all done to perfection. As it neared closer to the time he was picking you up your anxiety spiked. He hadn’t called to reschedule so it was really happening.

Rafe had gotten worked up all week with the pictures you’d occasionally send of what you were doing. The one that really got him was when you had gotten out of the shower and sent him a picture of you in a fuzzy robe with wet hair and your skin glistening. Most likely due to a skincare routine you had mentioned to him.

Rafe thought you looked like a goddess, he wished he could have gotten down on his knees and untied that robe with his teeth before worshiping you. His kind had been in the gutter all week.

He was making sure this date was going to go perfect. He bought a bouquet of flowers from a street vendor and worn his best date outfit. As he rang the doorbell to your small cottage he started to get a bit nervous. He hadn’t put this much effort into a date since high school. Even then how much effort could a teenage boy put in. He didn’t actually remember the last time he went on a date.

Rafe’s runaway thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door. Standing in front of him in a short black skirt and black top. A jacket hanging over your arm and your glossy lips turning up into a smile. The boots you were accentuated your legs making them look even longer. Rafe wanted to lick every inch of you. Especially after the smell of your perfume hit him, he wanted to kiss your neck.

“Hi,” You said with a teasing tone.

He didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything, “You look beautiful.” He made it a point to look her up and down.

She laughed as heat creeped up her neck, “Thank you Rafe.”

He loved how you said his name, “These are for you.” He handed you the flowers.

“Come in while I put them in water,” You nodded towards the inside of the house, “They’re beautiful Rafe. You really do know how to treat me good.”

He closed the door behind him as you began filling a vase with water, “Oh this is nothing.”

“If there’s more than this I might start to like you a little too much,” You joked hoping the weight of those words don’t send him running. You didn’t mean to say something so forward so soon. Literally on the first date, but you decided to stick by your words. You didn’t want to hide that you liked him.

“Perfect, because I already like you a little too much.”

You froze with the kitchen towel in your hands as you dries them. As you looked at him his smile was sincere, no hint of teasing or lying. You finished drying your hands as you laughed softly. The crush you had on Rafe was growing by the minute.

“Ready?” You asked.

He nodded opening the front door for you. He even opened the passenger door of his truck for you. Of course you knew these were bare minimum things but you couldn’t help how giddy it made you feel. Especially when it was him doing it for you.

-

Everything couldn’t have been going more perfect. Rafe was almost grateful he had to postpone the date because in the week the two of you talked he learned a lot. With the knowledge of you he had he planned the perfect date.

He took you to a record shop that you hadn’t been to before. You had told him about your extensive collection you had started building in high school. He even remembered a few of the bands you liked when he came across them. Of course he insisted on buying you a couple which you repeatedly told him not to. Obviously he didn’t listen and bought you them.

Next door was the Italian restaurant Rafe had been raving about all week. Promising you it’d be the best pasta of your life.

But as you looked over the menu, a ghost of a grin hasn’t left your mouth all evening, his phone started ringing. Rafe took his phone out of his pocket beginning to apologize for not silencing it. He was going to ignore the call but the name across the screen had his brows furrowing in worry.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up briefly, “Uh yeah it’s my captain. I’m so sorry I need to answer this.” You nodded understanding as he gave you a regretful smile as he slid out the booth to take the call. You continued to look over the cocktail menu.

Rafe sighed as he sat down across from you again, “Everything okay?” You asked

He shook his head, “I hate to do this but I got called in. I wasn’t supposed to work today but there’s a hug pile up downtown where there’s a big concert and they need all the help they can get.”

You tried not to show the disappointment you felt because it was his job after all. Rafe could still see how your eyes lost a bit of their shine and your smile wasn’t as bright anymore. He really hated this. In his career so far he had never been called in so much. But now when he meets the hottest woman he’s ever seen work is taking over his life. He was not about to have you slip through his fingers.

“Oh yeah I understand. You can just drop m-“ You began saying before he interrupted.

“Come with me.”

“Huh?”

He shook his head with a laugh, “Not to the wreck to the station. Wait for me there.”

He didn’t even wait for you to reply because for one he needed to leave now or Captain Matthews would chew his head off. And two if you decided you didn’t want to and wanted nothing to do with him anymore he’s take you home, but the sound of your laugh as he pulled you through the restaurant was enough of an answer. Your hands stayed locked together until you got back into his truck.

The station wasn’t too far from where you already were so the drive was short. Rafe rushed out to open your door and grab your hand once again. As you trailed behind him you saw a few of the guys from career day and some new faces as they all stood by an engine in the garage. A couple were checking equipment and a few others were already getting on the truck.

“Sorry to interrupt your date but we need your help here Cameron,” An older guy said as the two of you approached. You assumed this was his captain.

You smiled, “Duty calls right?”

He laughed, “It sure does.”

“I’ll be right out,” Rafe said leading you into the station. He walked you into a room that was like a big living room with couches and a tv. Max was laying on the couch and when he saw Rafe he immediately got up and walked over to the pair.

“This is Max. Say hi Maxie bug,” He pet the dogs head who then sniffed your leg. You bent down petting his fluffy head.

“Hi Maxie.”

“Make yourself at home and feel free to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be back hopefully in a couple hours. If you get bored and uber home I won’t be offended I promise,” Rafe said placing a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, “Got it. Be safe and good luck.”

He leaned in with a grin and kissed your cheek gingerly. Even that small touch had your head spinning. You and Max watched as he jogged back outside and only a couple minutes later you heard the truck leave.

-

It had been almost two hours now and Rafe was still out. You had watched a fe episodes of your favorite sitcom and played with Max a bit. You even explored the station finding the kitchen and a few of the rooms used for sleeping where you stole a blanket from to lay over yourself on the couch. The only issue you were having was that you were starving.

Since you two had to leave dinner you hadn’t eaten since lunch and that meesley turkey sandwich was not cutting it.

That’s when you wandered into the kitchen and that habit of wanting to take care of people kicked in. You looked through to see what the guys had almost expecting to find the bare minimum. You were so wrong. The fridge and pantry were filled with groceries. You thought these guys must really eat a lot.

You started brain storming and decided on making lasagna and garlic bread. You figured they’d all be hungry when they got back and you were also starving. As the garlic bread finished in the oven and the lasagna cooled down you heard the rumbling of the fire truck. Perfect timing. You hoped you didn’t overstep but he did say make yourself at home. You even baked some chocolate chip cookie dough they had in the fridge. Even also tossing a salad to have on the side.

As Rafe opened the door that led to the station the smell of garlic bread and fresh baked cookies hit him. He thought he must be hallucinating until he walked into the kitchen and saw you getting plates out from the cupboard. A few of the guys walked in behind Rafe.

“Hey we’re back,” Rafe said stepping towards you, “Did you make dinner?”

You nodded a bit of embarrassment creeping up your spine, “Yeah hope you guys don’t mind. I was hungry and I figured you were too so I made food for you all.”

Josh stepped forward looking at the pan of lasagna, “Rafe keep her please, this looks amazing.”

“Seriously thank you this looks so good,” Captiain Matthews said as he stepped in.

“No problem please help yourselves,” You motioned towards the counter of food.

Rafe couldn’t look away from you. The way you stood so comfortably in the station kitchen talking to his coworkers. He walked closer towards you as the guys served themselves.

“You are just too sweet huh?” He teased.

“Well we missed our italian dinner so I made it myself,” You shrugged with a grin.

“That just means next time I’m cooking for you,” He said. The thought of there being a next time brough butterflies to your stomach.

“I’ll hold you to it,” You nodded.

Rafe grabbed a plate and began to serve you food. Handing over the plate before serving himself. All the guys thanked you as Rafe led you to the living room area. He also grabbed a bottle from one of the tall cabinets along with two glasses.

“Now I know this isn’t what I promised you but next time will be better,” He promised as he opened the bottle of wine.

“There’s no complaints from me about this date,” You shrugged, “Since when are you allowed to have alcohol in here?”

He smirked, “Well miss I’m technically off the clock again and this is from the christmas party we had a few months ago. Cherry wine?”

Your eyes lit up, “It’s like you know me already, I love cherry wine.”

-

After your stomachs were full of good food and a bit of wine that made your head feel a bit floaty you both settled on the couch. This was the best date you’d ever been on. Rafe was sweet and flirty never hiding his desire for you. Not even in a sexual way but in a way where he constantly asked questions about everything wanting to know more about you. He talked about his life as well which only made you like him more. Hearing about his troubled privileged childhood that led him to where he is now. It was admirable to hear him talk about it with no shame since it made him who he is.

As it got later Rafe drove you home. You were disappointed the night was ending but it was nearing one in the morning and you still had lesson plans to create.

He walked you up to your door with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“I had a really great time with you tonight. I’m sorry again for the interruption.”

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it Rafe. I still had a great time.”

“The guys are going to want you around all the time now,” He laughed.

“Oops,” You shrugged with a smirk.

He stepped closer, “Be careful now I might get jealous.”

“Maybe I’ll keep going then,” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “I know it’s late but uh do you want to come in?”

Rafe didn’t hesitate, “Yeah sure.”

You unlocked your door leading him in, “I can make you a cup of tea if you’d like or something else.” You asked as you set your things down on the entryway table.

“hmmm something else?” He asks as he steps closer to you.

You look through your cupboards, “I have tea, coffee, some random-“ your words caught in your throat as you turned around to look at him only to find Rafe behind you.

“That all sounds good but I think I want something sweet,” He said as he inched closer. Your hands rested behind you against the counter. Eyes wide with anticipation and curiosity as to what his next move would be.

“Like sweat tea?” You asked knowing exactly what he means but not wanting to jump to conclusions.

His smirk turned into a lopsided grin. He rubbed his hand over his mustache and shook his head stepping closer, “No that cherry wine was pretty sweet right?”

You nodded in agreement not taking your eyes off him.

“I think I want a bit more of that,” He was now practically caging you in against the counter. You felt like you were suffocating in him in the best way possible.

“Oh I don-“ He interrupted you by leaning forward and brushing his nose against yours. It shut you up immediately and then he broke the rest of the distance and pressed his lips to yours. You reciprocated moved your hands from the counter to pull at the blonde hair at the back of his head. His hands went to your hips pulling you closer to him then sliding up to your waist.

His thumbs going under your shirt the skin on skin contact made you shiver in the best way. Your mouths moved in sync as the kiss deepened.

Rafe could taste the sweetness but he wasn’t sure if it was the cherry wine or just you. He knew he was addicted to you now. He loved the way your hands felt in his hair and on his biceps and shoulders. He slotted his leg in between yours making you feel even closer to him. The small noises you were making made him sigh into the kiss.

He pulled away before kissing you a few more times and murmuring, “So sweet.”

You whined and tugged at his shirt to pull him back in. He smirked and gave you what you wanted. He’d give you anything you wanted.

This time you pulled away feeling a bit bold and the feeling of his thigh pressing against the place where you needed him the most helped you say, “You wanna see my room?”

He laughed softly kissing your nose, “You inviting me to your room?”

You scoffed a laugh, “Nooo I’m asking if you want to see my room. There’s a difference.”

“I’d love to see your room.” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully and shoved him. Grabbing his hand and leading him down the hallway to your room. You turned on the lamp on your nightstand which illuminated the room with a soft glow. Rafe had decidedly that he loved seeing you in that light. You looked like a real like angel.

“So this is it,” You said motioning to your surroundings.

He threw his head back with a hearty laugh, “Oh I really like you sweetheart. Come here,” He motioned with his fingers for you to come closer. A motion that had your mind in the gutter.

“Why do you say that?” You question as you walk forward to where he stood at the end of your bed.

“Because you’re all cute and sweet like you didn’t almost make me come just by making out.”

“Rafe!” You said with a surprised laugh.

He shrugged, “What? It’s the truth.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck still feeling bold. There was something about how unabashedly he admitted his feelings towards you that had you feeling confident. It felt good to be wanted. It felt good to be wanted by Rafe.

“You’re ridiculous,” You said as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His eyes moving down to your still swollen lips.

“Mhmm,” He hummed and nodded. He leaned in just like he did earlier in the kitchen. Kissing the air out of your lungs. His hands moved all over you gripping and holding anything he could.

His hand slipped down your back and over your butt, giving a squeeze as he past it, down to the end of your skirt, His fingers trailed up the back of your thigh and up your skirt. Hands gripping your ass under your skirt. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips which allowed him more access into your mouth.

There was a small part of your brain that hadn’t quite turned off yet. Rafe’s lips began to trail down to your neck leaving open mouthed kisses that had you arching into him. The feeling of his mustache against your smooth skin had you shivering.That’s when that part of your brain decided to speak up.

“Oh Rafe,” You said breathily eyes fluttering shut, “are you sure, it’s late and don’t you have work?” Rafe groaned as he kissed the spot behind your ear. He couldn’t help but get more turned on at the sound of her caring about him, but work and sleep were far from his mind. Right now he just wanted to bury his head between your thighs and have you moaning and withering underneath him.

“Baby I could care less about that right now,” He walked you back until you were sat on the bed. The bed wasn’t very tall so when he stood in between your legs you had to look up at him. The way he towered over you had your flimsy underwear feeling soaked. You had never been so turned on by a man.

Rafe reached forward to cup your jaw. Thumb stroking your cheek gently. Now that part of your brain was completely silent. All you could think about was him.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled almost to himself.

A soft smile appeared on your face and he practically groaned again. Your doe eyes looking up at him with an innocent smile had his cock hardening even more if that’s possible. He bit his lip and watched as your eyes moved to his mouth. He knew you wanted him as bad as he wanted you and that made this all the more exciting.

He slowly trailed his thumb to his mouth, pulling at her bottom lip teasingly. Almost like a habit your mouth opened slightly. He took this as a sign to gently push it into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it sucking and licking.

“Fuck,” He muttered as he felt your warm tongue. Where had you been all his life. He was never going to let you go. He pulled it out and leaned down kissing you again.

“You’re so hot,” He mumbled as he got on his knees in front of you. He removed your boots that you were still wearing and kissed up both legs. The intimacy of it all had your chest rising rapidly. The anticipation of just how good you know this man is going to treat you was enough to make your toes curl.

“I’ve been thinking about these thighs since I first picked you up,” He said as he kissed your inner thighs. He had placed your legs over his shoulders, hands gripping the outside of them. You sighed as your body ignited in pleasure.

You let out a small yelp as he pulled your center closer to his face causing you to fall back, “And fuuuck I’ve been thinking about pushing this little skirt up all night.” He hummed in appreciation as he pushed the black material up. Your feet now resting on the end of the bed. Your barely clothed pussy on display. Leaning back on your elbows you watched with hazy eyes as Rafe admired you.

He looked up at you through hooded eyes and a smirk, “Can I please taste you?” He knew you wouldn’t say no but he wanted to be a gentleman anyways.

“Please,” You whispered slightly bucking your hips up.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lace covered clit. The black lacy panties you had on barely doing anything to cover your slick cunt. He took a mental picture for the next time he was in the shower.

You moaned softly as he continued to kiss over panties, eventually pulling them to the side. He murmured curse words as he lifted his thumb to run through your folds. Gently slipping the tip of it inside you to gather your wetness. He trailed it up to your clot beginning to rub soft circles. The motion had your head falling back with a sigh.

Rafe turned his head and peppered kisses on your inner thigh. He pressed down a little harder as he watched you get wetter. After a few strokes he tentatively dipped his head down and licked your clit.

That was enough for him to know this is what he wanted to taste forever. He roughly pulled off the lacey matterial throwing it somewhere in the room.

He groaned as he fully dived in. Licking, sucking, and kissing just where you needed him to. He listened to your moans and soft whines to see what you liked the most. He was so painfully hard but he didn’t even care. Rafe just wanted you to come.

“Oh god Rafe,” You moaned as his tongue dipped into you. Your hands gripped his hair tugging when something felt extra good.

He moaned and the sound sent even more pleasure through you, “You taste so fucking good.”

“Rafe I’m close,” You panted, “you’re so good don’t stop please.”

He shook his head with his mouth still on you, “Never baby, you’re gonna have to pry me away from this pussy.”

The dirty words sending you even closer to the edge. You had never been talked to like this and you loved it. You liked how he ravaged you and actually paid attention to what you liked.

You felt his finger nudge your entrance before he slipped it in. Your walls tightening around his thick finger. You arched you back as he reached one hand up to press flat against your stomach to lay you down more. Then he added a second finger and you couldn’t help the cry that escaped your lips. It felt so good the way he moved them in and out. Fingers curled up hitting that spot you so desperately needed.

The lewd sounds of his fingers fucking you and his mouth on your clit filled the room. Along with your loud moans and his occasional groans. The roughness of his mustache felt so good on the sensitive bud.

“Rafey I’m-I’m gonna,”

“Mhmmm let go for me pretty girl,” He encouraged as his fingers moved faster and mouthed hungrily at your clit.

You became a shaking moaning mess as he continues his ministrations. Your orgasm taking over your body. His hand gripped your thigh roughly as he kept going until your high was over. Once your back was flar on the mattress he slowly pulled out and pressed one last kiss on your puffy clit.

He made his way up your body kissing your stomach over your shirt and then you exposed cleavage. He kissed you fully and you could feel his mustache damp with your arousal. You could also taste yourself on his tongue which had you moaning again. Rafe lifted you to be farther up the bed so he can comfortably lay on top.

“You taste so fucking good I already wanna do it again,” He said smirking as he pulled away.

You smiled in a daze, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” As you reached your hand down to the front of his pants. Your hand cupped him through the material and he groaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Fuck I really really want to do more but I actually do have work in a couple hours,” He groaned. He wishes he could just call off and spend the whole night rolling around in bed with you.

You looked at him with slight disappointment but understanding, “You sure?”

He leaned down and bit your neck playfully, “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be easily convinced.”

You giggled, “I understand Rafe.”

“I’m seeing you again though. I never lied about that. Especially after you let me have a taste of you,” He groaned dramatically, “So fucking delicious I’m addicted.”

[a-lexia11]

Womanizer (Part 1)

Fuckboy!Alexia Putellas x reader

Word count: Around 14k

Warning:highly suggestive (minors DNI), some angst.

Based on this request

Part 2

Note: I will be posting Part 2 in a few minutes, I just need to proofread it!

You relocated to Barcelona, hoping for a fresh start—a new city, new people, and a chance to rebuild your life with your three-year-old daughter, Mia.

You needed a place where the past wouldn’t haunt you, where you could finally focus on giving Mia the stable life she deserves.

It hasn’t been easy. You spent five years with your ex-boyfriend, someone you once believed was your forever. But over time, the cracks began to show.

He cheated on you more times than you care to remember, always finding excuses, always making promises he never kept.

When you discovered you were pregnant, you thought maybe things would change—that becoming parents might finally bring him closer.

Instead, the moment he found out about the pregnancy, he walked out on you without a second thought.

He left you to carry the weight of it all alone—heartbroken, pregnant, and unsure of what the future held.

Here in Barcelona, you met your neighbor, Carmen, a true blessing in your life. From the very first day you moved in, she was there—knocking on your door with a plate of home-cooked food, her warm smile making you feel like you weren’t quite so far from home.

Additionally, Carmen speaks English, which has been a great relief. Navigating a new country is challenging enough, and trying to learn Spanish on top of it all has been overwhelming at times.

Still, you believe your Spanish is at a decent level.

So when you first realized she was fluent, it felt like another little gift from the universe.

Carmen, with her silver-streaked hair and lively eyes, quickly became a constant in your new world, someone who seemed to understand without asking too many questions.

“You remind me of my daughter,” she’d say often, her tone affectionate as she’d pass by your door or hand you a fresh loaf of bread from the bakery down the street.

It didn’t take long before she offered you a job at her pride and joy—her little flower shop on the corner. “It’s nothing fancy,” she’d told you with a shrug, “but it’s my heart. And I could use the help. You’ll like it, trust me.”

At first, you hesitated. You hadn’t planned on working with flowers, or working at all, not while you were still getting your bearings in a new city.

But Carmen’s offer came at just the right time, and something about her made it impossible to refuse.

The shop itself is small but beautiful. The soft light from the street filters through the windows in the morning, casting a warm glow over the arrangements of roses, lilies, and wildflowers.

You spend your first days trimming stems, arranging blooms, and greeting customers. It’s peaceful in a way you hadn’t expected—almost therapeutic.

——

One afternoon, while you’re carefully arranging a bouquet behind the counter, the soft chime of the doorbell rang through the shop. You glanced up, and there she is—Alexia Putellas.

Her arrival is impossible to miss. Not only because she’s Barcelona’s football darling, her face splashed across billboards all over the city, but because she’s also infamous for her reputation. A womanizer. The kind of woman who seems to have a new lover every week.

Carmen had spoken of her often, describing how Alexia visits the shop almost daily. To Carmen, she’s practically like a daughter.

But until now, you hadn’t seen Alexia yourself. She’s been away, traveling for football matches.

Your daughter, Mia, is a huge fan of hers, idolizing her both as a footballer and a larger-than-life figure.

You’d never told Mia about Alexia’s reputation though—it wasn’t something your three-year-old needed to know obviously.

Alexia entered the shop with that unmistakable swagger, every movement filled with a quiet confidence that immediately grabs attention.

She’s not alone either. A shorter woman is draped under her arm, looking relaxed and cozy, as if she’s used to being in such close proximity to Alexia.

It’s unclear whether she’s a friend or one of Alexia’s many "flings," but the way they moved together hints at something more, or perhaps nothing at all. With Alexia, it’s hard to tell.

Alexia greeted Carmen as though she’s just stopped by to visit family.

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Carmen’s cheek. “¡Hola, Carmen!” she said warmly. “¡Qué gusto verte! Te he echado de menos.” (Hi, Carmen! It's so good to see you! I've missed you)

Carmen beamed, clearly delighted to see her. “¡Alexia! ¡Qué alegría verte de nuevo!” she exclaimed , her voice filled with affection. (Alexia! What a joy to see you again)

“Hace tiempo que no pasabas por aquí. ¿Cómo te ha ido? Todo bien con los partidos?” (It's been a while since you last came by. How have you been? Everything going well with the matches?)

“Todo bien, gracias. Una temporada agotadora, pero estamos ganando, así que vale la pena,” Alexia replied, her eyes drifting around the shop before locking onto you. (All good, thanks. It's been an exhausting season, but we're winning, so it's worth it)

“Esta es Laura,” she added casually, introducing the woman at her side. (This is Laura)

“Laura, te presento a Carmen, la dueña de esta maravillosa floristería.” (Laura, let me introduce you to Carmen, the owner of this wonderful flower shop)

Laura smiled kindly at Carmen. “Encantada, Carmen,” she said, her voice soft but genuine. (Nice to meet you, Carmen)

“El placer es mío, Laura,” Carmen replied. “¿Qué te trae por Barcelona?” (The pleasure is mine, Laura.What brings you to Barcelona?)

Laura shrugged with a small laugh. “Estoy aquí de visita. Alexia me está mostrando la ciudad.” (I'm here visiting. Alexia is showing me around the city.)

The conversation flowed easily between them, but Alexia’s gaze kept drifting back to you.

Her eyes swept over you in a way that felt unsettling—almost predatory, as if she were sizing you up.

It’s a look you’ve seen before—back when you were too trusting, too naive, and ended up burned by someone who once gazed at you the same way.

After a bit of back-and-forth, Carmen invited Laura to check out some of the newer flower arrangements, leading her away from the counter. And that’s when Alexia seized her moment.

She walked over to you, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Hola, guapa,” she said in a tone dripping with confidence. “No creo que nos hayamos conocido. Soy Alexia.” (Hello, gorgeous.I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Alexia)

You focused on your work, refusing to meet her gaze. “Y/N,” you replied coolly, your voice polite but distant.

“Un placer, Y/N,” Alexia continued, clearly undeterred by your indifference. (Nice to meet you, Y/N)

She leaned casually on the counter, her eyes following the movements of your hands as you arranged the flowers. “Sabes, tienes un gran talento con las flores”. (You know, you have a real talent with flowers)

You kept your expression neutral, fully aware of what she was trying to do. You were tired of smooth talkers, especially someone like Alexia, who likely believed she could charm anyone into bed.

You’ve seen it all before—Mia’s father had the same cocky attitude before he left you when things got tough.

Without looking up, you switched to English, knowing full well that Alexia speaks it fluently. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate you flirting with someone else.”

Alexia’s smirk widened, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ah, what a beautiful voice you have, Y/N,” she replied in flawless English, her thick accent making her cockiness even more apparent.

“She’s not my girlfriend, don’t worry. Just a friend… we have a lot of fun together.” She winked at you, making her meaning painfully clear.

You rolled your eyes and refocused on the flowers, hoping that by ignoring her, she would eventually leave you alone.

But Alexia leaned closer, not giving up so easily. “You seem annoyed. I could help with that, you know,” she said, her voice low and suggestive.

You let out a huff, finally meeting her gaze. “You’re the one annoying me.”

Alexia chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “Feisty. I like it,” she said, leaning even closer, her grin widening. “You know, people like you? They’re always incredible in bed.”

You shot her a withering glare but remained silent, resolved not to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

You figured that if you didn’t engage, she would get bored and leave. Just before she could say anything else, though, Laura called for her from across the shop.

Alexia straightened up, glancing over at Laura before turning back to you with a smirk. “Don’t miss me too much. I’ll be right back,” she said, winking playfully before sauntering off.

You watched as she approached Laura, wrapping her arms around her from behind and brushing her lips against the top of Laura’s head.

As if sensing your gaze, Alexia glanced back your way and sent you another wink, clearly enjoying the game she was playing.

You rolled your eyes again, muttering under your breath as you gave her the finger. Alexia just grinned, clearly amused, before turning back to Laura.

Eventually, they returned to the counter to pay. Carmen chatted happily with them as they gathered their things, but you kept your focus on your work, doing your best to ignore Alexia’s presence.

As they finished paying, Alexia turned to you one last time. “Adios, Y/N,” she said with a playful wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You didn’t bother replying, simply giving her a blank look as she left the shop, the bell chiming softly behind her.

Once they were gone, Carmen walked over with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” she said gently. “I left you alone with Alexia. She can be… intense.”

“Intense is an understatement.”you replied with a small laugh.

Carmen chuckled, shaking her head. “Yes, I know. She really enjoys the company of women, but I promise you, she’s a good person at heart. You just need to get to know her better.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Sure,” you muttered, not believing a word of it.

——

“Mommy!” Your daughter’s voice called out as soon as you walked through the door of your apartment, returning home from work.

“Hi, baby! I missed you so much,” you said, scooping her up and wrapping her in a tight hug, showering her face with kisses.

“I missed you too!” she giggled, her small arms clinging to you.

You gently set her down and handed her the single flower you’d brought home. It had become a ritual—bringing her a different flower each week because she absolutely adored them.

“Ooh, this one is so pretty! Thank you, Mommy,” she said, planting a kiss on your cheek before dashing off to her room, likely to add her new flower to the others.

“Muchísimas gracias, María,” you said, turning to María, Mia’s babysitter, who had been helping you since you arrived in Barcelona. You handed her a small envelope with money. (Thank you very much,María)

“You’re welcome, Y/N. I love taking care of her. Es una niña maravillosa,” María responded warmly, her smile genuine. (She’s a wonderful girl)

María has been babysitting Mia since you moved to Barcelona. As Mia hasn’t started school yet, she’s still learning Spanish, and María has played a key role in helping her with that.

“Mia, come say goodbye to María, please,” you called out.

Mia came running, her face lighting up as she threw herself into María’s arms and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Adiós, María,” she said in sweet, accented Spanish.

“Adiós, Mia. Hasta mañana,” María replied, giving her a final hug before turning to you. “Adiós,” she said, and you echoed her farewell as she left.

After dinner, Mia begged you to let her watch the Barcelona match. You rolled your eyes internally at the thought of seeing Alexia again, even if only on the screen, but Mia’s big, pleading eyes made it impossible to refuse.

Now, you’re settled in front of the TV with Mia snuggled next to you, both of you watching the match. Mia is practically vibrating with excitement.

When Alexia scored a goal, Mia leaped up from the couch, clapping her hands and cheering loudly. “Did you see that, Mommy? It was amazing!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she mimicked Alexia’s celebration, kissing her shirt just like Alexia did on the screen.

“Yes, I saw that,” you replied, forcing a smile even though your heart wasn’t in it. You couldn’t ignore the pang of frustration at how deeply Mia admired Alexia.

“I want to be just like her when I grow up,” Mia declared, her gaze fixed intently on the TV. Her little hands were raised, as if she were celebrating her own goal.

“Eww, no,” you said without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Why not?” Mia asked, her voice quivering slightly. “I want to be a great player like Alexia. you think I can’t ?”

“Shit, Y/N, think before you speak!” you mentally reprimanded yourself, recognizing that your impulsive reaction could have hurt her feelings.

Your heart melted at the sincerity shining in her eyes.

“Of course you can be a great player,” you said, lifting Mia onto your lap and kissing her forehead.

“Even better than Alexia. But remember, you don’t have to be like her. You can be yourself and still be amazing.”

“Yes! I can be better!” she exclaimed, her spirits lifted. She turns back to the TV, still nestled in your arms, eyes glued to the game.

As you watch the match, you can’t help but feel conflicted. You understand that Alexia’s skill on the field has earned her immense admiration and a place in Mia’s heart.

Yet, you found it difficult to reconcile your daughter’s admiration for someone whose reputation clashed so sharply with your own values.

——

“Hola, guapa. I missed you since yesterday,” you heard Alexia’s voice, laced with her trademark confidence, as you arranged some flowers in a pot.

Startled, you turned to find her standing just behind you. With Carmen out for her dentist appointment, it was just you and Alexia. You let out a sigh, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you.

You attempted to ignore her, concentrating hard on your task at hand.

“Hey, it’s rude to ignore a customer,” Alexia teased, her tone playfully mocking. “I might just have to tell Carmen about this.”

“You’re not a customer, just a nuisance,” you shot back curtly as you made your way toward the register.

Alexia followed you, casually leaning against the counter with her elbow propped up and her chin resting on her hand, her gaze fixed intently on you.

“Oh, me encanta cuando las mujeres se hacen las difíciles. Es un gran excitante“ (Oh, I love it when women play hard to get. It’s such a turn-on)

“I’m not playing hard to get; I genuinely have no interest,” you replied, focusing on cutting the roses.

Alexia’s smirk grew wider. “Oh, really? Who isn’t interested in me? Me has visto? (Have you seen me?)

You glanced her up and down, feigning disinterest. “Yes, I see you, but there’s not much to see,” you retorted, even though you couldn't deny her stunning looks.

“Por favor, amor, you and I both know you’re lying,” she replied with a smirk, clearly relishing the back-and-forth.

She continued, “You know, last night I had a match.” You merely hummed in response, your disinterest evident as you focused on your work. “Did you watch it?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of pride.

You made a face of mild disgust before lying, “No.”

“Qué pena,” she said with a self-satisfied grin.(What a shame)

“We won, and I even scored a goal—just for you,” she added, her tone brimming with confidence and a hint of arrogance.

You can’t help but scoff at her audacity. “Do you use that line on every girl you want in your bed?” you asked, finally looking up from arranging the flowers.

“A few of them,” she replied with a casual shrug, her playful smile still intact.

You tried to brush off the way she was getting under your skin. “So, what do you want? Carmen won’t be here until this afternoon if you’re looking for her.”

Alexia's eyes sparkled with mischief. “I didn’t come for Carmen. I just wanted to see you. Echaba de menos tu actitud atrevida,” she said, her gaze lingering on you as she bit her lip. (I missed your feisty attitude)

You pointed the flower cutter at her, trying to emphasize your point. “Don’t make me use this on you.”

Alexia’s grin only grew wider. “Dios, you’re so incredibly hot when you’re all aggressive. It just makes me want you more.”

You decided to ignore her comment.

“I want to buy some flowers,” she finally said, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Well, there are plenty of flowers to choose from. Just pick what you want, pay, and then leave,” you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

“Hey! No need to be rude,” she teased, crossing her arms as she sat on the counter. “Necesito un consejo.” (I need some advice)

You looked at her, signaling for her to continue.

“So, what kind of flowers should I get to say I’m sorry?” she asked, her tone surprisingly earnest.

Recognizing her genuine curiosity, you decided to help out. “You might want to consider blue hyacinths. They symbolize sincerity and heartfelt apologies,” you suggested, motioning for her to follow you as you walked over to the flowers.

“Or red carnations,” you added, pointing to another option. “They also symbolize an apology and love.”

Alexia studied the flowers with a focused intensity that caught your attention, her fingers lightly brushing over the petals as she contemplated her choices.

Standing this close, the faint scent of her perfume enveloped you, making it hard to resist being drawn in.

You realize you’re watching her more than you intended, taking in how her long, blonde hair fell over her shoulders, glinting in the light.

Her hazel eyes appeared even brighter in the soft glow of the shop, framed by thick lashes that enhanced her striking beauty.

She stood tall, her toned figure moving with an effortless grace that naturally commanded attention.

For a moment, you're caught off guard, realizing just how incredibly gorgeous she really is.

“Ay! I can’t decide. Which one would be more fitting for ‘I’m sorry for kicking you out of my bed, bruising you, and making you leave half-naked because my sister was coming over? But hey, will you come back and have sex with me again?’” she said casually, pulling you out of your daze.

You stared at her in disbelief before finally saying, “The blue hyacinths,” and pushed them toward her chest before walking away.

Alexia headed to the counter, pulling out her wallet. “Gracias. I hope she’ll love them. How much?” she asked, her smirk never fading.

You told her the total, and she handed over the money. But rather than walking away, she moved around the counter with a sly grin.

Before you knew it, she had you cornered, her presence dominating the small space between you and the wall. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer.

“What do you want now? As a customer, you’re not supposed to be on this side of the counter,” you said, meeting her gaze with defiance.

Alexia leaned closer, her breath warm against your ear. “I’ll get you in my bed one day. I saw the way you looked at me. Estás tan cerca de ceder” (You’re so close to giving in)

“The only time I’ll be in your bed is in your dreams,” you whispered back, maintaining your defiant tone.

Alexia’s smile is both wicked and confident. “I can’t wait to fuck you in my bed, even if it’s just in my dreams,” she said before turning to leave.

She paused at the door, glancing back with a sly smile. “I don’t give up easily,” she added before walking out.

You watched her leave, a mix of frustration and unwanted attraction coursing through you.

——

The next morning, you found Alexia back in the shop, but this time, Carmen was there too, much to your relief.

As you stepped out of the back room, you noticed Alexia with a different woman, not Laura, whom you had previously met.

You assumed this was the woman Alexia needed to apologize to.

You arranged the flowers on display, offering Alexia and her companion a brief, polite greeting before moving to the other side of the shop.

While bending over to adjust some flowers, you heard Alexia’s unmistakable voice. “Hmm, me encanta ver a las mujeres inclinarse así. Es mi posición favorita.” (Hmm, I love watching women bend over like that. It’s my favorite position.)

You straightened up immediately and shot her a sharp look.

“I see the flowers worked,” you said, nodding toward the woman Alexia had entered the store with.

“Oh, that’s not her! But yes, they worked” Alexia replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

“I just wanted to thank you. Gracias a ti, tuve una noche increíble,” she said, giving you a playful eyebrow wiggle. (Thanks to you, I had an amazing night.)

You rolled your eyes and turned away, trying to ignore her.

Later, as you and Carmen are working at the register, Alexia and her date approached, carrying a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh, ¡buena elección! Las rosas rojas siempre son una excelente opción,” Carmen said enthusiastically, and the woman thanked her. (Oh, good choice! Red roses are always a great option.)

Alexia’s arm is draped casually around her current date’s shoulders, a gesture of intimacy that’s impossible to ignore.

As she pulled her wallet from her handbag, she handed Carmen a generous tip along with the payment for the flowers.

“Espera un momento para tu cambio; no hay suficiente en la caja,” Carmen said, her voice trailing off as she headed into the back room.(Hold on for your change; there’s not enough in the register)

With Carmen out of sight, Alexia turned her attention back to her date, a playful smirk curling on her lips.

She slid her hand around the woman’s neck, her touch both firm and tender, tilting her head back. Alexia leaned down slowly, her movements deliberate and sensuous.

She planted a deep, lingering kiss on her date’s lips.

As their lips met, you could see Alexia’s tongue gently sliding into the woman’s mouth, adding a more intimate, passionate touch to the kiss.

Her eyes though remain locked on yours throughout, a challenge in her gaze as if daring you to react.

The kiss seemed to stretch in defiance of time, with Alexia’s lips lingering and her fingers lightly tracing the woman’s neck.

The soft, rhythmic sound of their kissing was the only noise in the room, creating an almost palpable tension that seemed to fill the entire space.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly relishing the provocative display she was creating. As she continued to kiss her date with a slow, deliberate intensity, she stared at you, her gaze both teasing and challenging.

With a playful wink, she seemed to savor the effect her performance was having on you, fully aware of the spectacle she was making.

As Carmen’s footsteps drew nearer, Alexia slowly and reluctantly pulled away, her expression one of satisfaction.

With a smirk, she casually wiped with her thumb the lingering trace of saliva from the woman’s lips, clearly pleased with the effect of their intimate display.

She turned to you, her expression a mix of mischief and confidence.

Her gaze remained steady, her eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of challenge. You met her stare, striving to maintain your composure despite the palpable tension in the air.

You narrowed your eyes at her, feeling the heat of the moment as you struggled to maintain your professional demeanor amidst the charged atmosphere created by Alexia’s bold flirtation.

“Carmen, ¿podrías arreglar que estas flores se entreguen en mi casa mañana por la mañana?” Alexia asked sweetly, her gaze flickering to you with an almost imperceptible, suggestive glint. (Carmen, could you arrange for some flowers to be delivered to my house tomorrow morning?)

“Sí, por supuesto. Y/N, ¿podrías encargarte de la entrega?” Carmen asked you with a gentle smile. (Yes, of course. Y/N, would you be able to handle the delivery?)

You forced a polite smile and nodded. “Of course,” you replied, feeling Alexia’s gaze linger on you. She beamed, giving you a subtle, mischievous wink that made your heart skip a beat.

“¡Genial! Entonces, Carmen, te enviaré un mensaje con los detalles más tarde, ¿está bien?” Alexia said her tone almost triumphant as she looked at Carmen. (Great! Then, Carmen, I’ll send you a message with the details later, okay?)

“¡Claro!” Carmen replied warmly, handing back the flowers and Alexia’s change. (Of course.)

“Nos vemos mañana,” Alexia said with a lingering, teasing smile and blowing you a kiss before turning to leave. (See you tomorrow.)

Her smile promised more than just a casual encounter.

Carmen watched her go and then turned to you with a knowing grin.

“Please, don’t,” you said, shaking your head as you walked away, hearing Carmen’s amused chuckle behind you.

——

“Mommy?” Your daughter’s voice piped up during dinner, catching your attention.

“Yes, darling?” You looked up from your meal, focusing on her earnest face.

“One day, can I come to your work with you? I really want to see the pretty flowers,” she asked, her large eyes full of hope and excitement.

“I’ll have to ask Carmen about that first,” you said, and her eyes lit up with a bright smile.

“So that means it’s a yes, right? Because Carmen loves me so much. She always tells me she loves me,” she said, her grin widening as she swung her legs under the table.

“Of course, Carmen adores you. It’s impossible not to with how adorable you are,” you said, reaching over to gently squeeze her cheek.

You planted a series of soft, playful kisses on her cheek, making her giggle uncontrollably.

——

“Alright, it’s here,” you muttered to yourself as you arrived at Alexia’s apartment with her flower delivery.

She had ordered three large bouquets—two of red roses and one of white roses.

You knocked on the door, but there was no response. After waiting several minutes, you tried again, this time rapping more insistently. Still, silence.

Growing increasingly frustrated and determined, you delivered one last, resolute knock.

After a few more minutes, Alexia finally opened the door, looking slightly breathless and dressed only in a sports bra and shorts.

“Hola, guapa. Sorry for the wait, I was… busy. Please, come in,” she said with an inviting smile, opening the door wider as you stepped inside.

“Here. You can put them on the kitchen table,” she gestured to a white table.

“Were you working out?” you asked, noting her sweaty appearance and minimal attire.

She smirked, her confidence barely contained. “You could say that. Just working on my cardio.”

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over her defined abs and the tattooed elegance of her back. She was stunning, a vision of physical perfection.

Your admiration was interrupted by the sound of voices. Turning around, you saw two tall and impossibly beautiful women, one brunette and one blonde emerging from a room. They looked like they could be models.

“Damas,” Alexia said, her voice dripping with satisfaction, “tuve una noche y mañana increíble con ambas” as she handed them the red rose bouquets. (Ladies,I had an amazing night and morning with both of you)

The brunette woman leaned in first, her lips brushing against Alexia's in a soft, lingering kiss.

Afterward, the blonde woman approached, her kiss equally tender, adding to the intimate exchange.

You couldn’t help but cringe at the sight, the display of affection feeling overly intimate and uncomfortable.

Alexia escorted them to the door, bidding them farewell with playful pats and a cheeky slap on each of their butts.

You once again cringed at the sight.

Once Alexia closed the door, she turned back to you with a smug, challenging grin.

“Can you please pay so I can get back to work?” you said, trying to keep your tone steady but feeling your frustration simmering.

“Yes, of course,but first I a gift for you” Alexia replied,she walked over to the kitchen table, picked up the bouquet of white roses, and handed them to you with an almost mocking flourish.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a surge of annoyance. “I don’t want it,” you said flatly.

Alexia’s smirk didn’t waver. “Fine. I’ll just give it to the girl I’m seeing tonight.”

“Yeah, do that. Now, please pay,so I can go back to work” you insisted, your patience wearing thin.

“Don’t you want to relax a bit? There’s a couch over there, or maybe something more comfortable—like my bed?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“That’s why you wanted the flowers delivered? To lure me into your bed?” you snapped, your anger boiling over.

“Maybe,” she said, her tone smug and unrepentant, and that was the breaking point.

“So, you had me deliver these flowers, made me wait outside while you were fucking two women, and now you’re trying to bribe me with a bouquet to get me into bed?” you demanded, your voice rising with each word.

“Exactly,” she said, her demeanor unshaken. “I wanted to show you that I can have any women I want. I just had an incredible night with two women. No one can resist me, so why do you?”

You were fuming, your words coming out sharp and hurtful. “"Listen closely, Alexia, because I’m only going to say this once. I would never sleep someone like you. You’re selfish, arrogant, and unbearably overconfident. You think no one can resist you because of your looks or your celebrity status, but that’s a mistake. People are drawn to the idea of being with a celebrity, not to you as a person. They use you just as you use them. You’re nothing more than a lonely woman who sleeps around because you lack meaningful connections. Your allure may attract attention, but it’s clear you have no real relationships. You’re just filling a void, and that’s not something I’d ever want to be a part of. You are pathetic.”

You locked eyes with her, every word stinging. “Stay away from me.”

Alexia’s expression shifted from smug to shocked, her face falling. Her eyes glistened with hurt as she stared at the floor.

“Um…okay… voy a buscar mi billetera. Vuelvo enseguida.” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly as she turned away quickly. (I’m just going to get my wallet. I’ll be right back)

As you watched Alexia turn away, a pang of regret began to sink in. You realized that your outburst might have been fueled more by your unresolved feelings about your ex than by anything Alexia had done.

The way she carried herself, her bravado, and her seeming lack of genuine connections struck a nerve, bringing your past frustrations to the surface.

You could see how your words might have been more a reflection of your own pain and disillusionment than a fair judgment of her.

Even though some of what you said was truthful, the intensity of your anger revealed how deeply you were affected by your own experiences.

Alexia returned with the payment, handing it to you with a subdued “You can keep the change.” Her voice was soft, her usual confidence replaced by a vulnerable quietness.

You took the money, nodding curtly. Without another word, you turned and left her apartment, heading back to the flower shop with a heavy heart.

——

For three days, Alexia hadn’t shown up to the store, and the gnawing guilt was becoming harder to ignore.

You tried not to dwell on it, but it lingered in the back of your mind. The shop felt quieter without her presence, and the longer the silence stretched, the more you felt the weight of your actions. You knew it wasn’t just a coincidence—your outburst had driven her away.

Carmen noticed it too. On the third day, as the two of you were arranging flowers for a new display, she finally spoke up.

“Has Alexia said anything to you?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of worry.

You shook your head, not wanting to meet her eyes. “No… Why?”

“It’s just strange, isn’t it? Alexia not coming by for this long, especially when she’s still in Barcelona. It’s… odd,” she said, glancing at you carefully.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you. Carmen was right—Alexia had been a regular at the shop, her visits frequent and, despite her cocky attitude, somewhat predictable.

You tried to focus on the flowers in your hand, but the words hung heavy on your tongue.

“Did something happen?” Carmen asked softly, her voice more knowing than questioning.

At first, you tried to brush it off. “Nothing happened,” you mumbled, but Carmen raised an eyebrow, her gaze unwavering. You sighed, knowing there was no point in lying.

“Alright… something did happen,” you admitted, setting the flowers down. Carmen leaned in slightly, her attention fully on you.

“She’s been… acting a certain way ever since I met her. You know, making these dirty jokes, flirting nonstop, doing things to get a reaction out of me.” You hesitated, unsure if you should tell her the rest, but Carmen waited patiently.

“She—uh—made out with someone in front of me while staring right at me,” you continued, feeling the irritation rise again as you remembered that morning. “But it wasn’t just that. When I went to her apartment for her flowers delivery, there were these two women at her apartment. She made me wait outside while she was… busy with them. Then she gave me some stupid roses, trying to get me to sleep with her.” The words spilled out faster now. “That’s when I snapped.”

Carmen looked shocked, her brows furrowing in surprise. “And what did you say?”

You hesitated again, but Carmen gave you an encouraging nod, so you told her the whole truth. “I basically told her she was selfish, cocky, and overconfident. That people only used her because she’s a celebrity, and she’s just a lonely woman who sleeps around because she has no real connections.” As the words came out, you cringed, realizing just how harsh they had been.

Carmen stared at you for a moment, processing everything. Then, she let out a soft sigh, shaking her head. “Wow… that’s… a lot,” she said slowly. “I understand why you blew up, honestly, with how she was acting. Alexia can be… well, a little much. But those words?” Carmen hesitated, glancing at you sympathetically. “I think they might’ve hurt her more than you realize.”

You scoffed lightly, though not out of amusement. “Hurt her? Carmen, she was literally flaunting two women in my face like it was some kind of power move.”

“I know, I know,” Carmen replied gently, “and that’s exactly why I think she was hurt. Look, Alexia may put on this big, confident show, but I’ve known her for a while. Underneath all of that, she’s a lot more sensitive than she lets on.”

You frowned, processing Carmen’s words. “She didn’t seem too sensitive when she was throwing those women in my face.”

“She’s hiding behind it,” Carmen said, shrugging slightly. “People act like that when they’re trying to protect themselves. Not saying it excuses her behavior, but it explains it. She’s not used to people seeing past the surface.”

You slumped against the counter, feeling torn between your anger and guilt. “I don’t know… maybe I took it too far. She just reminded me so much of my ex. It’s like I wasn’t just yelling at her, but at him too.”

Carmen smiled softly, her eyes warm with understanding. “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Look, I get it. Sometimes old wounds can make us lash out at the wrong people. Alexia just happened to push the wrong buttons.”

You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair. “What should I do? I can’t just pretend nothing happened.”

Carmen chuckled softly, patting your shoulder. “I’d say maybe you owe her a conversation. But don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re both adults, and you’ll figure it out. Trust me, Alexia’s tough, but she’s not as unbreakable as she pretends to be.”

She gave you a playful nudge and added with a smirk, “Besides, you know what they say about love and hate, right? Sometimes they’re closer than you think.”

You rolled your eyes at Carmen’s teasing, but deep down, her words gave you a lot to think about.

——

Two days after your conversation with Carmen, Alexia finally made her reappearance.

You were busy assisting a couple of clients when, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed her walk into the shop.

She carried a bouquet of flowers in her hand, and for a brief moment, the world outside your conversation with the clients seemed to fade away.

The air felt heavier with her presence, but at the same time, the absence of the usual playful energy she brought with her was unmistakable.

The store had felt quieter without her, and the weight of the silence between you two was something you could no longer ignore.

You had driven her away. That much was clear.

You noticed Alexia standing by the counter, her eyes fixed on you.There was none of her usual cocky confidence.

Her posture was more reserved, even hesitant. When you finished with the clients and they finally left, it was just the two of you in the shop, the tension thick in the air.

She took a step closer, her movements slower than usual. “Hola, guapa,” she greeted softly, her voice noticeably different.

Gone was the teasing arrogance you had grown accustomed to. Instead, it was quiet, almost vulnerable.

“Hola,” you replied, matching her tone. You weren’t sure what to expect from her, but this... this wasn’t it.

She handed you the bouquet—blue hyacinths. The flowers of apology. Alexia had remembered.

“These are for you. I... I wanted to apologize for how I acted. What I did was wrong, and I’m really sorry,” she said, holding your gaze, her eyes filled with sincerity.

You took the flowers, their fragrance soft and delicate, but their meaning hit you harder. “Thank you, Alexia. I, um, I need to apologize too. My words that day were... I shouldn’t have said all of that. I was just really angry and—” You began to ramble, but Alexia gently interrupted you.

“No, don’t apologize,” she said, shaking her head. “You had every right to be upset. I made you wait, wasted your time, and I... pushed you too far. I’ve been making things difficult for you since day one. I made you crazy, though not exactly the way I hoped,” she added with a light laugh, trying to keep things casual. But as soon as the words left her lips, she grimaced, regretting the joke.

Before she could apologize for that too, you smiled—a small, genuine smile.

Alexia froze for a second, her eyes widening in disbelief. “What?” you asked, confused by her reaction.

“You smiled,” she repeated softly, her voice a mixture of awe and surprise.

You raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Nunca sonríes. Bueno... no hacia mí, de todos modos. Así que sí, estoy un poco sorprendida en este momento,” she said, as if it was the most mind-blowing revelation she’d ever had. (You never smile. Well... not at me, anyway. So, yeah, I’m kind of shocked right now)

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, Alexia, you’re ridiculous.”

But Alexia’s expression softened even more, her eyes full of warmth as she watched you laugh.

“And now you’re laughing too? Wow, a smile and a laugh in the same conversation? I must be the luckiest person alive,” she said, playfully over-exaggerating her excitement.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said again, though your heart wasn’t in it. Instead, you were secretly touched by her joy over such a small thing.

You brought the bouquet to your nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance as you studied her face.

Alexia’s gaze softened even further. “You have a beautiful smile, you know that?” she said quietly, the sincerity in her words catching you off guard.

You felt your cheeks warm under her compliment, and you quickly shook your head. “Alright, let’s not push your luck,” you said, still smiling despite yourself.

Alexia’s nervousness seemed to ease at your reaction, and she hesitated for a moment before holding out her hand. “So... am I forgiven?”

You pretended to consider it, watching the subtle anxiety creep back into her expression. Finally, you nodded. “You’re forgiven.”

A visible sigh of relief washed over her as she pumped her fist in a small victory. “Yes!” she whispered under her breath, her joy almost contagious.

She then extended her hand to you, a playful glint in her eye. “Dado que estoy perdonada, creo que deberíamos empezar de nuevo. Una pizarra limpia, ¿sí?” (Since I’m forgiven, I think we should start over. Clean slate, si?)

You blinked, surprised at her gesture, but after a brief moment, you took her hand in yours. Her grip was firm but gentle, her skin warm and soft. “Alright,” you agreed, amused by the formality of it all. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Soy Alexia,” she said with a grin, shaking your hand like it was the first time you’d ever met. “Encantada, Y/N.”

The absurdity of the moment made you both smile. It was corny, yes, but endearing in a way you hadn’t expected.

For a brief second, as you shook hands, you found yourself getting lost in her hazel eyes. There was a softness there, a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

She wasn’t just the flirtatious, cocky woman you had met. She was... more. And for the first time, you found yourself truly seeing her.

Before anything could be said, the sound of Carmen entering the shop snapped you both back to reality.

You quickly let go of Alexia’s hand, almost like you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

“¡Ahh, Alexia! ¡Has vuelto!” Carmen exclaimed, pulling Alexia into a warm hug. (Aahh, Alexia! You’re back!)

Alexia returned the embrace, though she shot you a sheepish smile over Carmen’s shoulder.

When they broke apart, Carmen affectionately pinched Alexia’s cheek before pulling her head down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Era hora, niña. La tienda ha estado demasiado tranquila sin ti provocando problemas.” (It’s about time, niña. The shop’s been too quiet without you stirring up trouble.)

Carmen’s eyes flicked to the flowers in your hand, and she raised an eyebrow at Alexia. “Hmm, jacintos azules. Buena elección” she remarked, giving Alexia a playful pat on the back before disappearing into the back room. (Hmm, blue hyacinths. Good choice)

Alexia laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

You smirked at her, your eyebrow raised. “So... did you cheat on us and go to another flower shop to buy these?”

Alexia’s laugh was light as she shook her head. “No way. I bought them here, I swear, you were not here. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater,” she joked, her voice playful yet sincere.

For some reason, you believed her. As flirtatious and free-spirited as she was, Alexia didn’t seem like the type who would betray someone’s trust.

That thought settled something inside you. You found yourself smiling again as you looked at her, the distance between you both feeling much smaller now.

——

From that moment, things between you and Alexia shifted. While her flirting persisted, it became less cocky or overconfident, but still very much her.

But became a little more softer and kinder, making you laugh instead of feeling irritated. Carmen had been right; Alexia could be genuinely sweet when she chose to be.

You never mentioned your daughter to Alexia, thinking it best to keep that part of your life separate.

If your daughter knew you were in contact with her idol daily, she’d beg to come along. Besides, despite Alexia’s more bearable demeanor, you wouldn’t want your daughter around her.

Alexia’s habit of seeing a different girl each day remained unchanged, but each time you saw her with someone new or flirting, a pang of jealousy twisted in your stomach.

One day at the store, it was just you and Alexia. She was recounting her morning training session, and the conversation flowed effortlessly.

At one point, you were telling Alexia a very interesting story. Alexia was hanging on to every word, her focus entirely on you, until the door swung open and a strikingly tall brunette entered the store.

Alexia’s gaze snapped away from you, her head turning to follow the woman’s entrance. She was instantly fixated, her attention now fully captured by the newcomer.

The woman greeted both of you, her gaze lingering a bit longer on Alexia. Seeing that Alexia had completely shifted her attention, you sighed and stopped speaking.

You resumed your task, trimming the thorns off the roses. Meanwhile, Alexia continued to stare at the woman, her eyes practically devouring her.

You walked out from behind the counter to put the roses on display, and only then did Alexia seem to realize you were still there.

“Ay, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Please, tell me the end of your story,” she said, following you with an apologetic look.

You sighed, trying to downplay your irritation. The shift in Alexia’s focus from you to the beautiful woman stung more than you expected. “It’s okay. You can go talk to her,” you said, avoiding eye contact.

Alexia hesitated, clearly feeling guilty. “No, really, I want to hear the end of your story,” she insisted, her gaze flickering back to the woman who was still eyeing her.

Were you jealous? Maybe a little but you had been through similar situations before and were determined not to fall into the same trap. Protecting your heart was crucial.

Despite enjoying Alexia’s company lately, you felt it was wiser to keep things minimal and friendly, especially with the feelings you were grappling with.

“No, it’s fine. Go talk to her,” you said, walking away.

Alexia, although still feeling bad, couldn’t resist and moved toward the woman.

From your position at the register, you watched as Alexia approached her with a wide smile.

You saw them chatting, smiling, and occasionally touching each other’s arms. Each gesture twisted your stomach with unease.

Eventually, as you were counting the register’s money, Alexia and the woman came back to you. The woman greeted you again, and you felt Alexia’s eyes on you, but you focused on the woman instead.

“Serán 12 euros, por favor” you told her. Before she could reach for her wallet, Alexia placed her hand over the woman’s, stopping her. (That will be 12 euros, please)

“Está bien, cariño. Yo me encargo” Alexia said, her smile gentle as she handed you the money. The woman thanked Alexia with a kiss on the cheek, making you roll your eyes mentally. (It’s okay, cariño. I’ve got it)

You accepted the money and then gave Alexia her change, avoiding her attempts at eye contact.

The woman thanked you and prepared to leave but then turned back to Alexia. “¿Podrías esperar afuera unos minutos? Ya salgo” she said, smiling. Alexia nodded and watched her leave. (Could you wait outside for a few minutes? I’ll be right out)

Alexia turned back to you, remaining silent. You looked up. “What?” you asked, confused.

“What’s the end of your story?” Alexia asked, clearly eager to know how it concluded.

You sighed. “Alexia, the girl’s waiting for you,” you said, not looking at her.

“But I want to know the end!” she said, almost pleading, her tone earnest and insistent.

“Well, you would have known if you had been listening in the first place,” you replied, your voice carrying a note of frustration.

Alexia fell silent for a moment. “I’m really sorry, I just got… distracted,” she said, her gaze drifting toward the glass door where the woman was waiting.

“Yeah, I know,” you said flatly. Alexia remained silent, and your patience wore thin. “Alexia, can you go now? The girl’s waiting, and I have a lot of work to do,” you said, exasperated.

Alexia bit her lip, looking at you as if you had done something cruel. “Yes, I’ll go. I’m sorry,” she said.

She walked toward the front door, glancing back one last time before leaving.

Once she was gone, you let out a deep breath. Damn it, you were jealous that Alexia was going out with another woman. This couldn’t be happening, you were attracted to her.

——

“Absolutely, Mia can come to the store!” Carmen responded, her voice full of warmth and enthusiasm after you mentioned the possibility of Mia joining you at work.

“Thank you so much, Carmen! She’s going to be ecstatic. She’s been asking me nonstop about it,” you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

And that was the truth—Mia had been relentless, pestering you every day with the same question. You’d been avoiding giving her a straight answer, constantly making excuses.

Mostly because of Alexia, who also frequented the store daily, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the two crossed paths.

As you and Carmen continued chatting, Alexia walked into the store, just as she always did. She approached Carmen first, who was standing closer, greeting her with a soft “Hola” and two kisses on the cheek, as was her custom.

Then, something unexpected happened. Alexia moved toward you, her eyes locking onto yours, and for the first time, she greeted you the same way, leaning in to give you two kisses on the cheek.

She had never done this before—usually, it was just a simple “Hola guapa” paired with her usual soft yet cocky smile.

“Hola guapa,” she said, her familiar words bringing a sense of comfort.

“Hola,” you responded, managing a smile, feeling the last remnants of nerves from yesterday dissolve the closer she got.

She was standing so near to you, her height forcing you to slightly tilt your head up to meet her gaze.

“How are you?” she asked softly, her voice holding a gentleness that made your heart skip for a moment.

“I’m good, and you?” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You hated to admit it, but having her so close made you feel something—safe, but also a little flustered.

“Bien,” she said, pressing her lips together as an awkward silence started to settle between the two of you. You shifted slightly, unsure of what to say next. (Good)

Finally, you broke the silence. “Did you have fun with that girl last night?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, hoping to lighten the mood.

Alexia’s smile faltered for a split second, and she hesitated before answering, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Um... no.”

Her answer took you by surprise, and you furrowed your brow in confusion. “No?” you repeated, not expecting that.

“No,” she said again, this time more firmly but still quiet. Her eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe? You weren’t sure.

“Did you find someone better then?” you joked, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk, trying to coax her back into her usual lighthearted mood.

But instead of laughing, her expression grew more serious. “No,” she whispered, and this time, her voice carried a weight that made you pause. “En realidad... me sentí muy culpable por lo que pasó ayer” (Actually... I felt really guilty about what happened yesterday)

You blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift in tone. “Guilty?” you repeated, the word hanging in the air between you two.

Alexia nodded, her gaze dropping momentarily before she looked back up at you, her eyes soft and sincere.

“About..you know..ignoring you yesterday,” she said gently. “I was out of line. I let myself get carried away,I let my... urges take over,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m really sorry. I know it probably hurt you, and that was never my intention.”

You stood there, processing her words, feeling the sincerity behind them. She wasn’t just apologizing; she was genuinely remorseful. You could see it in the way her eyes softened, the way her voice lowered with each sentence.

But despite her heartfelt apology, you hesitated. You weren’t sure if you could just forgive her so easily, not this time. It wasn’t the first time Alexia had done something impulsive, and you didn’t want to keep brushing it off like it was nothing.

“Alexia...” you started, unsure of how to continue. You bit your lip, avoiding her gaze for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts.

She took a small step closer, her expression pleading now. “Please, Y/N, I’m really sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I wasn’t thinking straight. You know me, sometimes I just act without thinking, but I would never want to hurt you.”

You sighed, crossing your arms as you weighed her words. “I get that, Alexia, but this isn’t the first time,” you said, meeting her eyes again. “You can’t keep doing things and expecting me to just... forgive you right away.”

She swallowed, her eyes glistening as if the weight of your words hit her hard. “I know... I know, and I hate that I keep messing things up between us. But please... this time, I mean it. I’ll be better. I promise.”

There was a long pause, both of you standing in the soft light of the store, the usual chatter and bustle around you fading into the background as you considered her words.

Finally, you sighed, shaking your head a little, feeling your resolve begin to waver. “It’s not that easy, Alexia. You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay. I need to know you really mean it this time.”

“I do,” she insisted, her voice breaking slightly. “I swear to you, I’ll make it up to you. Just... give me one more chance, please.”

Another long pause. You could see the desperation in her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped slightly as if she was afraid you might walk away from her for good.

“Fine,” you finally said, though your voice was softer now. “But this is the last time, Alexia. I mean it. If you mess up again, that’s it. I won’t keep forgiving you.”

Alexia’s face lit up with a mix of relief and joy, and before you could react, she squealed and wrapped her arms around you, lifting you off the ground slightly. You let out a small squeal of surprise, not expecting her to hug you so tightly.

“Thank you, thank you!” she cried, setting you back down but not letting go just yet. “I swear, it’ll be the last time I do something stupid. I promise.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though you tried to hide it. “The last time, Alexia,” you warned, pointing a finger at her sternly.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, the last time,” she repeated, still grinning. Then she gave you a pleading look.

“Now, will you finally finish the story you were telling me yesterday? I’ve been dying to hear the end.”

Just as you were about to tell her, the door chimed and a few customers entered the store. Carmen shot you a knowing look, subtly signaling for your attention.

“Another time,” you said with a sigh, gently patting Alexia’s cheek before walking away. “Work calls.”

Alexia watched you go, her eyes following your every move, and a huge smile spread across her face.

But as she stood there, a strange feeling stirred in her stomach. Something unfamiliar, something she couldn’t quite place.

She shook her head, brushing off the sensation as nothing more than hunger. With a shrug, she pulled out her burner phone, scrolling through her contacts before texting one of the many girls in her phone, asking if they wanted to come over later.

——

“Are you excited to spend the day with Mommy?” you asked your daughter as you walked to the store one morning.

“Yes!” she cheered, bouncing with excitement.

Some days had passed since Alexia’s latest apology, but things had remained mostly the same.

She continued to visit the store every day, buying flowers for whichever woman she was with at the time.

Her flirtation remained gentle and tender, but something had shifted, though you couldn’t quite pinpoint what.

She frequently complimented your looks, outfits, and hairstyles, which you appreciated, even though it was rare for her to show this side of herself.

Despite this, she still made occasional risqué jokes about her various partners—and even you.

Two days ago, Alexia had been recounting a dinner she went to with friends and handed you her phone to show you pictures of the restaurant and the food. Unfortunately, she opened the “wrong album.”

You were shocked to see numerous pictures of naked women and nearly threw the phone back at her.

Alexia looked puzzled at your reaction but quickly masked it with a smirk as she glanced at her phone.

She began scrolling through the explicit pictures again, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Biting her lip, she seemed to savor the memories associated with each image, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she relived the moments she had captured.

“This is my special album,” she said with a teasing bite of her lip. “When I’m traveling and feeling lonely in a hotel room, it’s nice to have some… interesting pictures to look at.”

You made a face of disgust.

She leaned in, smirking. “Por favor, no me digas que nunca has enviado o recibido fotos como estas.” she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she propped her elbow on the counter. (Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never sent or received pictures like these)

“That’s none of your business,” you said, feeling your face flush.

“Oooh, you didn’t deny it, and your face is all red. You’ve definitely sent some,” she said with excitement.

With a cocky grin, she added, “I can’t wait to add yours to this album. It would make it so much more interesting…and beautiful.”

You looked at her in disgust and gently pushed her face away with your hand.

“In your dreams,” you said, smiling despite yourself. Over time, her flirting and joking were becoming less bothersome.

“You know what they say: never give up on your dreams,” Alexia said smugly. “Y me conoces lo suficientemente bien como para saber que nunca lo haría. Si lo hiciera, no sería la mejor futbolista del mundo.” (And you know me well enough to know that I never do. If I did, I wouldn’t be the best woman footballer in the world)

You shook your head, amused.

“I can’t wait to see all the pretty flowers, Mommy!” Mia’s excitement was palpable as she bounced on her little feet, her eyes wide with anticipation. You looked down at her, your heart warmed by her enthusiasm.

You had chosen this particular day for Mia to accompany you, carefully planning to avoid a potential encounter with Alexia.

Alexia had informed you the day before that she would be away from the store due to a demanding schedule of training, interviews, and a photoshoot.

You knew that if Mia were to see Alexia, she might freak out since she’s basically her hero.

While Alexia was known to be good with kids—something you’d observed in several videos—her frequent appearances with new partners and her tendency to be very touchy and affectionate in public could have made the situation awkward for Mia.

Your daughter’s inquisitive nature would surely lead to a barrage of questions, which you wanted to avoid.

“This time, I want to pick my flower of the week, Mommy, okay?” Mia asked, stretching her arms up towards you, signaling that she wanted to be picked up.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you responded with a soft smile, bending down to scoop her up. She nestled her head against your shoulder as you lifted her, her small arms wrapping around your neck.

You could feel the warmth of her little body and the soft rustle of her breath against your skin.

Together, you made your way to the store, ready to enjoy a day filled with flowers and moments of bonding, free from the concerns that Alexia might have brought.

——

“Mia, would you like to help me put the flowers in the pot?” Carmen’s voice was warm and inviting.

“Yes!” Mia responded immediately, her excitement evident as she bounded off with Carmen.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm as they disappeared around the corner, heading towards the back of the store.

The morning had been smooth and joyful. Mia had been gleefully exploring the shop, sniffing flowers and marveling at their colors. There had been no tantrums—a welcome relief—and you’d promised her she’ll be back at the store if she continued to behave so well.

As you worked on arranging bouquets for display, the bell above the front door jingled, signaling a new customer.

Looking up, your heart nearly stopped when you saw Alexia walk in. But she wasn’t alone—she had her arm casually draped around another woman, a relaxed smile on her face.

“Hola, guapa,” Alexia greeted you, approaching the counter. She momentarily released the woman to give you a quick kiss on both cheeks before resuming her hold around the woman’s neck.

Panic flared in your chest. “What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to keep your tone calm but failing to mask the urgency. Your eyes darted towards the back of the store, hoping Mia was still preoccupied.

Alexia’s eyebrow arched, catching your unease. “Is that how you greet me now?” she teased with a playful smirk. “Oh, and this is Isabel,” she said, introducing the woman. “Isabel, ella es Y/N.” (Isabel, this is Y/N)

You forced a polite smile at Isabel, offering a quick nod before turning back to Alexia. “You said you wouldn’t be here today. You said you will be busy all day.”

Alexia chuckled, clearly amused by your flustered state. “Plans changed. My photoshoot was canceled, so I thought I’d drop by and visit my two favorite flower girls.” She winked at you, trying to keep the gesture hidden from Isabel. “Where’s Carmen?”

Your heart raced. “She’s not here—she’s out on a delivery,” you lied quickly, hoping to get Alexia to leave. You were certain she would linger if she found out Carmen was still around.

Alexia gave you a curious look but shrugged. “Alright then...”

“Right, well, it was nice seeing you, and Isabel, fue un placer conocerte.” you said, trying to wrap things up. “I’m sure you have other plans.” (Isabel, it was lovely meeting you)

Alexia’s eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. “You’re acting strange. Are you trying to kick us out?” she asked with a grin.

“No, no, it’s just... you know, I’m sure you both have things to do,” you replied, glancing over her shoulder towards the back of the store again.

Alexia’s smirk didn’t fade. “Yeah, we do,” she agreed, looked down at Isabel.

She gave Isabel’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before intertwining their fingers and gently kissing the crown of her head.

A pang of discomfort hit you at the sight, but before you could react further, the sound of Mia’s voice cut through the tension.

“Mommy!”

You closed your eyes briefly, wishing you could rewind, you were so close…

When you opened them, Mia was rushing towards you, her small hands proudly holding a flower.

“Mommy, look! I found my flower of the week” Mia exclaimed, stopping right beside Alexia and Isabel, her face beaming with pride as she showed off her flower.

Everything seemed to slow down as Alexia’s gaze fell upon the tiny figure next to her. Her expression shifted dramatically from casual amusement to shock, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open.

It was as if she had been struck by a sudden realization.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke. “Mommy?” she asked, her tone full of disbelief. “Tienes una hija?” Her words were tinged with a mix of surprise and confusion, as if the idea of you having a child was completely foreign to her. (You have a daughter?)

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat.

Mia, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, suddenly shouted in recognition, “Alexia!” Her high-pitched voice echoed through the store as she threw herself at Alexia’s legs, hugging them tightly.

Alexia stood frozen, her shock palpable as she looked down at Mia clinging to her. Her usual composure was replaced by a look of utter bewilderment.

“I love you so much! You’re the best player in the whole world!” Mia declared, her tiny arms wrapped around Alexia’s legs.

Alexia’s expression softened at Mia’s affection. Though still stunned, there was a growing tenderness in her eyes.

Slowly, she reached down, placing her hand gently on the back of Mia’s head and stroking her hair. “Thank you,” she said softly, still grappling with the surprise.

You stepped in and carefully pried Mia away from Alexia’s legs, lifting her onto your hip.

Despite Mia’s tight grip, you managed to ease her into your arms, hoping to shield her from the awkwardness of the situation.

“Mommy, look, it’s Alexia! We see her on TV when she plays her games!” Mia said excitedly, pointing at Alexia, who remained visibly shaken.

Alexia’s gaze turned to you, her eyes searching for answers. The realization that you had kept such a significant part of your life from her was evident in the way she stared, her expression a mix of hurt and confusion.

“What’s your name, pequeña?” Alexia asked Mia gently, her disbelief still evident.

“Mia!” your daughter responded enthusiastically.

Alexia offered a strained smile. “Nice to meet you, Mia. I’m a friend of your mommy’s.”

Mia gasped and turned to you with wide eyes. “Mommy, you never told me Alexia was your friend!”

Alexia gave a quiet chuckle, though her gaze remained fixed on you. “Y tampoco me contó nada sobre ti.” she added in Spanish, hoping that you daughter does not understand, her tone more serious now. The subtle accusation in her words was clear, despite her attempt at a smile. (And she never told me about you either)

Sensing the tension, Mia pointed to the intertwined hands of Alexia and Isabel. “Is that your girlfriend?” she asked innocently.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. “Mia...” you began, but Alexia merely laughed, her discomfort evident.

“Mia, it’s not polite to ask those questions,” you said gently but firmly.

“Sorry, Mommy... Sorry, Alexia,” Mia pouted, quickly shifting her focus to something else. “Did you hurt yourself?” she asked Alexia with concern.

Alexia looked puzzled. “No, why?”

Mia pointed to her own neck. “You have a bruise here,” she said matter-of-factly.

Your heart sank as you noticed the hickey on Alexia’s neck. Her eyes widened, and she quickly covered it with her hand, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Oh, that? Yeah, I... got hurt playing,” Alexia mumbled, clearly flustered. Isabel, standing silently beside her, smirked at the scene.

You suspected Isabel might not understand the full conversation but clearly grasped what was happening right in this instance.

Mia nodded solemnly. “You need to be more careful, Alexia. Right, Mommy?”

You couldn’t help but smile at Mia’s concern, which mirrored your own words of caution. “Yes, sweetheart. Alexia needs to be more careful.”

Alexia met your gaze, understanding the underlying message. She gave a small nod, acknowledging the reprimand.

“You’re right, Mia. I’ll be more careful,” Alexia said, her tone softening as she pinched Mia’s cheek, eliciting a giggle from your daughter.

The moment of levity was short-lived as an uncomfortable silence settled over the group.

Mia, in her innocent way, suddenly blurted out, “Mommy says you’re hot!”

Your face flushed with embarrassment at Mia’s remark.

Alexia’s smirk widened, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, really?” she teased, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

While watching a game on TV with Mia the other day, you might have commented that Alexia looked "hot" when she appeared on screen, noting her sweaty, glistening skin, messy hair, and visible abs, completely forgetting that Mia was nearby and could hear you.

You felt your face grow even warmer. “Mia, that’s not... what I meant,” you stammered, but Mia continued, oblivious to the embarrassment she was causing.

“You said it when we were watching her game, Mommy. You said, ‘Oh my god, she’s so hot,’” Mia mimicked your tone perfectly, making you wish you could disappear.

Alexia’s smirk grew, clearly relishing the moment. “Well, I guess I should be flattered,” she said playfully, enjoying your discomfort.

“I meant... you were playing really well,” you said, trying to explain, but Alexia wasn’t letting it go easily.

“Oh, is that what you meant?” Alexia’s teasing tone only heightened your embarrassment.

Before you could respond, Mia added, “Mommy, does that mean Alexia needs to take her clothes off since she’s hot?”

You groaned inwardly, your face now burning with mortification. “Mia! No, that’s not what I meant at all,” you said, your voice rising as you struggled to regain control.

Alexia tried to stifle her laughter. “It’s okay, Mia. I’m fine just the way I am,” she said, winking at your daughter, which only added to your embarrassment.

Clearing your throat, you tried to redirect the conversation. “Alright, Mia, say goodbye to Alexia. She has things to do, and you need to get back to Carmen.”

Alexia’s brow furrowed. “So Carmen is here? Not on a delivery?” she asked, realizing you had lied.

“Yeah…” you admitted, and Alexia nodded, accepting it.

Mia reached out her arms towards Alexia, who looked at you for permission. You nodded, and Alexia took her in her arms.

Mia gave Alexia a warm farewell hug, her small arms encircling her. “Goodbye, Alexia. And goodbye to Alexia’s girlfriend,” she added, waving at Isabel, who responded with a courteous smile.

You let out a sigh, reflecting on the unintended label Mia had given Isabel.

As Mia turned and ran back towards Carmen, Alexia’s expression shifted from playful to serious.

She turned to you, her eyes lingering with unspoken questions. “We’ll talk tomorrow,please come to my place..you know where it is” she said softly, the weight of her words evident in her tone.

You nodded, feeling the gravity of the conversation that awaited you. There was a lot left unsaid, especially now that Mia’s existence was no longer a secret.

As Alexia and Isabel left the store, you let out a long, weary sigh. You leaned against the counter, feeling emotionally drained from the unexpected turn of events. Tomorrow’s conversation with Alexia loomed large, and you knew it would be a challenging discussion.

And, of course, you’d need to have a talk with Mia about the importance of boundaries—and perhaps a bit about keeping some things to herself as well.

——

The next morning, you headed to Alexia’s apartment with Mia in tow. Since it was a Sunday, María was off, and Carmen was visiting family, you had no option but to bring Mia along.

When you told Mia about the visit, she was ecstatic and insisted on wearing the Alexia jersey you had bought her a few weeks ago. She proudly put it on, her excitement evident.

As you arrived at Alexia’s door, you crouched down to Mia’s level. “Okay, Mia,” you began gently, “let’s remember to behave today, alright?” Mia’s face lit up as she nodded eagerly. “Yes, Mommy, I’ll behave,” she promised, and you planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

With a mix of nerves and anticipation, you knocked on the door. The last time you were here, Alexia had been with two other women, and the encounter had ended on a sour note. You were hoping this visit would go more smoothly.

Alexia answered the door almost immediately, her face breaking into a warm smile. “Hola, guapa,” she greeted you, her tone soft and inviting.

You returned the greeting with a smile, “Hola, Alexia.” From beside you, Mia’s small voice piped up with an enthusiastic “Hola, Alexia,” and she waved excitedly.

Alexia’s smile widened as she crouched down to Mia’s level. “Hola, nena,” she said affectionately, lifting Mia into her arms.

Mia wrapped her small arms around Alexia’s neck. When they separated, Mia proudly pointed to her shirt and said, “Look, Alexia, I’m wearing your shirt today!”

Alexia’s eyes twinkled with delight as she laughed softly. “Yes! That’s a fantastic choice,” she said, giving Mia a high-five, which Mia eagerly reciprocated.

You couldn’t help but smile at the heartwarming interaction between them.

“Come on in,” Alexia invited, opening the door wider and gesturing for you both to enter.

As you stepped inside, a small dog came bounding towards you, tail wagging furiously.

“Puppy!” Mia squealed, dropping to her knees as the dog jumped up and began licking her face. Mia’s laughter filled the room, and you found yourself laughing too.

You joined Mia on the floor, gently petting the playful puppy. “This is Nala,” Alexia said, introducing the dog with a smile.

“She’s adorable,” you commented, reaching out to give Nala a gentle scratch behind the ears.

“Sí, igual que su mamá,” Alexia said with a smirk, adding a playful tone in Spanish that made you look up at her and shake your head with a soft smile on your face. (Yeah, just like her mom)

“What that mean?” Mia asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“It means she’s as adorable as you are,” Alexia explained with a chuckle, ruffling Mia’s hair, which caused Mia to giggle even more.

Afterward, Alexia offered you both drinks, and Mia made her way to the living room, settling in to watch TV while Nala curled up contentedly on her lap.

You and Alexia sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee in silence. You weren’t sure how to start the conversation, but Alexia quickly took the initiative.

“So… you have a daughter,” Alexia said, glancing towards Mia.

“Yes,” you replied, nodding.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, confusion and hurt evident in her eyes.

You hesitated, struggling to find the right words. The truth—that you didn’t want Alexia near your daughter due to her reputation—seemed too harsh.

You looked away, avoiding her gaze as you fumbled for a response. Alexia seemed to understand your discomfort.

“You didn’t want me to meet her, did you?” she asked softly.

You didn’t respond, so she continued.

“I told you I wouldn’t be at the store this day, that’s why you brought Mia that exact day, right? Because you didn’t want me to see her?” Her voice held a trace of hurt.

You stared down at your coffee and nodded.

“And that’s also why you were so eager for me to leave? So I wouldn’t have the chance to meet her?” she persisted.

Once again, you didn’t speak, only nodding in confirmation.

“And you even lied about Carmen being on delivery duty to get me out of the store?” she asked.

You nodded again, meeting her gaze and seeing the hurt in her eyes.

“But why? I thought we were friends. I’ve shared so much about my life with you, and we’ve spent a lot of time together. Why keep Mia from me?” she asked, a mix of confusion and sadness in her voice.

“I... you know... you have a reputation. I didn’t want my daughter around you,” you admitted, noting the pain and disbelief on her face.

“Especially in the beginning, when we first met. You were insufferable and disrespectful, and I didn’t want my daughter exposed to that,” you continued.

Alexia nodded slowly, though her eyes still reflected hurt.

“I understand you wanted to protect your daughter from me,” she said. “I can be a lot at times.” Her voice carried a sad resignation.

You felt a pang of guilt seeing her so down, especially after witnessing how gentle and affectionate she was with Mia. You realized how wrong you had been.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, feeling deeply remorseful. Alexia reached across the table and took your hand in hers.

“No, don’t be. You’re a mother, and I understand that mothers will do anything to protect their children,” she said, her eyes meeting yours with a comforting warmth.

“Yes, and I was wrong. You were nothing but kind and loving towards Mia. As you can see, she absolutely adores you,” you told her with a gentle smile, which Alexia returned.

Her hand remained in yours, her touch warm and reassuring.

“So... what about Mia’s father or another mother?” Alexia asked cautiously, her tone tentative.

“Oh, the father isn’t in the picture anymore. He was terrible to me—cheated on me and left when he found out I was pregnant with Mia,” you confessed, feeling a wave of sadness.

Alexia shook her head in disapproval, her expression one of sympathy.

“That’s also why…” you started but trailed off.

Alexia’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Go on,” she urged gently.

You hesitated, knowing it was time to reveal everything and lay all the cards on the table.

“That’s also why I didn’t want you to know about her or meet her. You reminded me of him,” you began, and Alexia’s face showed clear shock, her eyebrows knitting together.

“He used to flirt with other women, even right in front of me. He was always so cocky and confident, never taking anything seriously,” you continued.

“When I snapped at you the other day, it wasn’t just about you—it was about him too. I used that moment to say everything I wished I’d said to him,” you added, your voice trembling as tears formed in your eyes, which you quickly wiped away, not wanting Mia to see you upset.

Alexia immediately stood up, gently pulling you with her.

“Mia, your mommy and I need to step into the bathroom for a moment. Is it okay if you stay here by yourself for a bit?” she asked Mia softly. Mia, absorbed in the TV, nodded without much interest.

Alexia guided you to her bathroom, closing the door behind you both. She enveloped you in a comforting embrace, your face nestled against her neck while her hands supported you—one at the back of your head and the other wrapped around your waist.

You let your tears flow freely, a release you hadn’t allowed yourself in a while. It felt cathartic to finally let everything out.

Alexia murmured soothing words into your ear, holding you close as you cried.

As you began to calm down, Alexia spoke softly. “You and Mia deserve so much more than that. I promise you, I’m not like him. I may be confident and a bit cocky, but I will never leave you. As long as you want me in your lives, I’ll be here.”

Her words warmed your heart. You pulled back slightly to meet her gaze. “Thank you,” you whispered, and Alexia gently rested her forehead against yours, offering a soft smile and cupping your cheeks.

The closeness made your heart race. Being this near to Alexia, after seeing her with other women, was a new and intense experience for you.

The memory of those other women made you pull back quickly, sniffing and smiling softly as you wiped your tears away.

“Thank you again, Alexia,” you said, drying your face.

Alexia smiled gently. “No need to thank me.” She then opened the bathroom door, and together, you both returned to the living room where Mia was waiting.

Alexia had convinced you to stay for lunch, and now the three of you were gathered around the kitchen table, enjoying bolognese pasta together.

Alexia and Mia were engaged in an animated conversation about football.

“Mommy said that one day, I’m going to be better than you,” Mia announced proudly, pointing her fork at Alexia.

“Did she now? Is that true?” Alexia asked, raising an eyebrow at Mia before turning her gaze to you with a playful smile.

“Yes, I did. Because it’s true, right, Mia?” you said, gently poking her sides. Mia giggled and looked up at you, her face glowing with joy.

“Yes, Mommy! I’m going to be the best when I grow up!” she exclaimed, and you couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Mommy!” Mia squealed with laughter, trying to wriggle away as you planted more kisses on her giggling face.

Alexia watched the scene with a soft smile, that familiar warmth spreading through her stomach, the same feeling she’d experienced the last time she’d apologized to you.

After lunch, you and Alexia tackled the dishes together while Mia, worn out from all the excitement, napped peacefully in Alexia’s bedroom.

“You know,” Alexia started, her voice carrying a smug tone as she stood by your side, drying the plates. “Now it all makes sense.”

You glanced at her, confused. “What makes sense?”

Her smirk grew wider, and you could already feel the teasing energy coming. “You always gave me MILF energy,” she said, eyeing you up and down like she was enjoying a private joke.

You felt heat rush to your face, but before you could react, she was already grinning even more, leaning in like she had a secret to share. “Especially when you get all serious and bossy with me. God, I love it when you’re bossy,” she added, lowering her voice. “It’s so hot.”

You didn’t waste a second. You nudged her hard with your hip, splashing water in her direction. “Don’t make me slap you,” you warned her, but she only laughed harder, loving every second of this.

Alexia recovered quickly, her smirk firmly back in place. “And by the way,” she added, wiping a plate with a casual air, “don’t think I forgot about you calling me hot.”

You froze, glancing at her quickly. “I—I did not call you hot,” you said, trying to sound firm, even though you knew you were lying through your teeth.

She chuckled, the sound deep and amused. “Oh, really? That’s not what Mia said yesterday. Maybe we should wake her up and ask her again.” She made a move toward the hallway, clearly teasing, and you immediately stepped in, placing your hand over her mouth.

“Shut up,” you muttered, your face burning as she laughed under your palm. You could feel her lips curve into a grin as she brushed your hand off with ease, cockier than ever.

There was a brief moment of silence between you two as you continued with the dishes, but the tension was palpable. Then, out of nowhere, Alexia’s voice broke the quiet.

“You know I’m not giving up, right?” Her tone was playful but serious, the teasing edge never quite leaving.

You turned to face her, already knowing where this was headed. “Still not having sex with you, Alexia,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance.

Her eyes darkened with that familiar mischief. She stepped a little closer, the smugness practically oozing from her.

“Come on, you think I’m hot, don’t deny it. Mia even confirmed it. And don’t think I don’t notice the way you look at me,” she added, her voice dipping just enough to make you shift where you stood.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat. “I think you’re hot, you think I’m hot, why not just… be hot together?” She shrugged, her expression impossibly smug. “In a bed. Naked.”

Tired of her arrogance, you decided it was time to play her own game.

You sighed dramatically. “Okay,” you said, making it sound like you were giving in.

Alexia’s cocky grin faltered for just a second as her eyes widened, surprised by your sudden agreement.

You stepped closer to her, and for once, she seemed speechless, unsure of what to do with her usual bravado.

As you closed the distance, pressing yourself fully against her, you felt her body stiffen, her breath hitching.

You took her hands, placing them around your waist, dangerously close to your butt. Her eyes searched yours, confused, intrigued, and undoubtedly turned on.

Without breaking eye contact, you wrapped your arms around her neck, leaning in until your lips grazed the shell of her ear. “How about tomorrow night?” you whispered, your voice sultry and slow.

“You can pick me up from work… take me back here… and you can fuck me… all. night. long.” You paused after each word, letting the sexual tension linger between you.

You felt Alexia’s sharp intake of breath, her body instinctively reacting to your closeness.

The faintest moan escaped her lips, her face pressing into the crook of your neck as if she couldn’t control the heat rushing through her.

Her hands moved lower, finally squeezing your butt gently, and you could feel her struggling to maintain her composure.

“And you know what the best part would be?” you whispered, your lips barely brushing her skin, your fingers lightly tracing the back of her neck.

Alexia, still caught up in the moment, could barely manage a hoarse, “What?”

Her hands kept caressing you butt, her body betraying just how much she was enjoying the moment.

You resisted the urge to push her hands away, knowing full well you enjoyed it too. But you had a point to make.

You leaned in even closer, letting her feel your breath against her ear. “The best part is…” you paused, feeling her anticipation grow. “This will all be happening… in your dreams.”

And with that, you pulled away completely, leaving Alexia standing there, utterly stunned, her jaw practically on the floor.

You smirked, enjoying the rare moment where you had the upper hand. “I’m gonna go check on Mia,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just left Alexia breathless and flustered.

Alexia stood there, unable to speak, her mind reeling from what had just happened. She had always been confident, always in control, but you had completely turned the tables on her.

She was used to being the one who teased, the one who left others speechless—but now, you had her feeling things she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Wow,” she finally muttered under her breath, her heart still racing. She had been with plenty of women before, but none had made her feel like this—none had gotten under her skin the way you just had.

The way your fingers had trailed down her neck, the soft whisper of your voice in her ear… it had her unraveling in a way she hadn’t expected.

That familiar warm sensation bubbled up in her stomach again, the same one she’d felt earlier at the table.

She could still feel the ghost of your touch on her skin as she hurried to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to cool herself down.

But the truth was, she was hot. You’d left her wanting more—and for the first time, Alexia wasn’t quite sure how to regain the upper hand.

——

“Thank you, Alexia,” you said as you got back to your apartment.

After your hot moment in the kitchen, Mia had woken up, and it was time to head home. Alexia insisted on escorting you, so she, Mia, Nala, and you all made the walk to your apartment together.

During the walk, Alexia and Mia chatted animatedly about everything and anything, their laughter and conversation filling the air until you reached your front door.

But Alexia also stayed silent with you.Only talking with Mia.

“Bye-bye, Alexia! I had so much fun with Nala. Can I see her again?” Mia asked, her little arms wrapped around Alexia’s shoulders as they both looked down at Nala.

“Of course, nena. We can definitely arrange another playdate if your mommy agrees,” Alexia said, glancing up at you with a hopeful look. You nodded in agreement.

“Okay, and I want to see you again too. You’re my best friend now!” Mia exclaimed, snuggling her face into Alexia’s neck. Alexia smiled and stood up, with Mia clinging to her like a koala.

“You’re my best friend too, nena” Alexia said softly.

“Mommy is our best friend too! We can’t forget her,” Mia suddenly said, as if realizing she had almost overlooked you. She pulled her face away from Alexia’s neck and stretched out an arm.

“Mommy, come join the hug too!” Mia said with innocent enthusiasm. You smiled warmly as you stepped into the group hug.

As Alexia’s free arm wrapped around your waist, you draped your arm around both of them, leaning your head on Alexia’s shoulder.

Alexia looked down at the two girls in her arms, and a deep sense of contentment washed over her. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

The touch of her lips sent a pleasant shiver through you. You looked up at her, smiling gently, and she returned your smile with equal warmth.

As the hug ended, Mia gave Alexia one last kiss on the cheek and a pat on Nala’s head before heading inside.

“Thanks again,” you said with a smile. “You’ve been so quiet with me. Did something happen?”

Alexia rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, you turned me on really badly, and now I have to go home and take care of it myself,” she said, a groan escaping her.

“Oh, come on. I’m sure you could call one of the women in your contact list, and she’d be at your place in ten minutes,” you teased.

“Yes, I could,” Alexia said with a smug grin, “Pero preferiría imaginarte conmigo en lugar de con otra mujer. Podría llamarla por tu nombre por accidente” (but I’d rather imagine you with me than another woman. I might accidentally call her by your name.)

“Okayyyy,” you said, laughing.

“I have a new goal,” Alexia announced suddenly.

“What’s that?” you asked, intrigued.

“My new goal is to take you on a date,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“So it’s not just about getting me into your bed?” you asked, amused.

“Bueno, sí, pero quiero hacer las cosas bien. Mi nuevo objetivo es convencerte de que salgas conmigo.”she clarified. (Well, yes, but I want to do things properly. My new goal is to convince you to go on a date with me)

“I’m curious to see how you plan to achieve that,” you said with a grin.

“I’ll treat you well and completely stop flirting with or looking at other women,” she said confidently.

“You? Stopping from flirting with other women? Alexia Putellas?” you said, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Sí, definitivamente puedo hacer eso.”she said, feigning offense. (Yes, I can totally do that)

“Sure…” you said, still unconvinced.

“Alright, let’s make a deal. If I don’t flirt with, sleep with, or even look at another woman for a month, you agree to go on a date with me,” she proposed, determination in her voice.

You considered it for a moment, knowing she might find it challenging. “Okay,” you agreed.

“¿De verdad? ¿No es solo otra broma?”she asked, surprised. (Really? It’s not just another joke?)

“No joke. One month, no women, and I’ll go on that date,” you confirmed, and she cheered.

“Genial! Bueno, ahora necesito ir a cuidar de mí misma, si sabes a qué me refiero.”she said with a suggestive wink and you laughed a little. (Great! Well, now I need to go and take care of myself, if you know what I mean)

“Bye, Alexia,” you said.

“Adios, guapa,” she replied, waving as she walked away.

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[spencerrreiddd]

Three, Two, One.

Summary: You and Spencer have worked in the BAU together for years, since the beginning but now, he's your boss and something quite big is happening in your life & soon to be Spencer's life after needing each others help to unwind.

Pairing: UnitChief!Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Angst, Cheating??

A/N: LOW & BEHOLD- here lays my first beauty. - my apologies is this is complete shit, I have not written in a while & I may have to get my special touch back. - anyways, i hope you guys like it ! 🔪🤍

three, two, one-

pregnant.

You were pregnant. You were pregnant with your bosses baby.

Spencer has not always been your boss, you actually started working for the BAU a month before he had even started working there.

He took over Emily's position once she moved up to FBI Director a few months back, at that congratulations party is when something sparked between you and Spencer- just, neither of you acted on it

You remember exactly how and when it happened too, it was the party after his promotion to Unit Chief. Goddamn promotion parties. You didn’t think you drank that much, until you woke up naked beside your new boss.

The temptation to pack a bag and hop on a flight across the world sounded so appetizing right now in your mind, too bad that it isn't realistic & you were going to have to face the facts and that was including, him.

There was never any “no speaking of this” - only us meeting up at my apartment, his apartment, our hotel rooms when we were on a case and needed to ‘unwind’ - the last time you and Spence had even slept together was 2-3 weeks ago anyway, of course when y'all needed to unwind after a case. Who could've guessed that one?

You were snatched from your thoughts when you heard your phone ringing from your bedroom- running for it, you were hoping that it wasn't Spencer.

‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’ 'thank the heavens' you silently think to yourself

“What’s up, Penny”

“Spencer is busy, he put me on duty to call you to find out if you plan to show your face at work today, ya know- since it is a work day and no show, no calls are frowned upon here" Your neck snaps to look at your alarm clock.

"Also, he wants to see you in his office once you get here"

7:32 A.M - have I seriously been staring at a positive pregnancy test for an entire hour?

“Fuck. See you soon. I'm leaving right now"

The short drive to work felt longer than it should have, probably because you took back roads to avoid having to see him again so soon. If you were already running late, what is a few extra minutes?

So many thoughts flying through your mind. How are you going to tell him? Oh hey, by the way, ya knocked me up so what’s the plan bud?!

“I'm doomed" You mutter to yourself getting out of your vehicle to go face reality, to go face the man of your now growing child. This has to be a nightmare.

Getting off of the elevator, the first person you saw was Alvez- boy, you were thankful that it wasn't Spencer, even though you'd be seeing him in just a few minutes.

"Looks like you saw a ghost"

"Yeah, Luke, something like that"

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not right now, I just want to forget about it- I need to see Pen" yeah, Y/N, like you'll actually be able to forget about it.

You make a beeline directly for Penelope's office, you have to tell someone about this before you actually lose your mind.

"Pen, I have news and it has to stay between you and I only"

"Your secret is safe with me, my love"

"I'm pregnant.. with Spencer's baby" you hesitated even saying the last part but wow, that felt good to get off of your chest, too bad it won't feel this easy with Spencer. Just thinking of having to tell him has you feeling like someone is choking you out.

"Oh."

"Oh? Pen, I am in a state of panic, a state of shock and you say 'Oh'- I don't know what to even begin to do here or how to even tell Reid that I am carrying his.. spawn"

"Spencer has a girlfriend or did, as far as I kn- okay, when did you find out” She cuts herself after seeing the look of horror on your face after hearing the beginning of her sentence, understandably so!

You were NOT the type of person to sleep with a taken man.

You were confident that you were about to face plant the ground right here and now in Penelope’s office. Did Spencer have a girlfriend or not? And were you about to go physically fight him for doing this to her, if so? You would be considering yourself jobless at that point.

“I found out this morning, literal minutes before you called me to get my ass here” you were in a pure state of panic and you had many good reasons as to why.

“How long has he had a girlfriend, Pen?” you continued- you were sure your skin was blistering with how hot it was at this point. Was it hot out of anger or the panic attack that was charging at you? Who knows anymore because you didn’t care enough in this single second to sit and determine that.

"I don't know, he just mentioned a date a few weeks ago then didn't mention anything again but I know he's still in communication with her and by the contact name in his phone, I don't think they are just friends" Penelope lets you in on all of this, nervously- like she isn't supposed to be saying anything at all.

"Thanks, Pen" You murmur to her her as you leave, you have to leave her office, the longer you are in there, the more it feels like the walls are literally closing in on you.

Walking into the hallway, you don't know which direction to go- You should probably go see Spencer and give him some bullshit excuse as to why you were late.

It was barely 8 A.M, maybe it was past 8 A.M now- your mind is going too fast to try and keep up with time. Regardless, it's too early in the morning to drop a pregnancy announcement on someone.

Finally, you muster up the courage to walk into the bullpen to go on the hunt for Spencer, as much as your mind and body are telling you to just bolt to your car and never look back.

"Tara, do you know where Spencer is?" You ask quietly, so that you don't disturb the others around you

"No, I saw him walk out of his office a few minutes ago but I haven't seen him go back in. If you find him before me, let me know because I need to go over some things with him"

"I'll go knock and see if he's back, thanks Tara"

You can visibly see his blinds are closed but majority of the time they are closed anyways, so that doesn't even matter to you. Walking up the flight of stairs to get to his office is exhausting, it feels like your legs weigh 1000 pounds each.

Standing in front of his office, you hear talking inside- You can very clearly hear a females voice inside talking to him but you honestly couldn't tell if she was over the phone or actually in his office by how muffled it is, it's safe to assume that it is a phone call.

"No going back now since you're already here" You mumble to yourself

Knock, knock, knock

"Come in" You hear a muffled Spencer behind the door

As your opening the door, you quickly hear him state to the woman on the phone 'I have to go, I'll see you tonight' - God, as if you haven't already wanted to run away all morning, it keeps getting worse.

"Pen said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, please sit" He says, gesturing to the chair

"Are you okay, Y/N? - You were late this morning, we've worked together for many years now and you've never once ran late, it's not like you not to communicate" You can see on his face that he cares, he didn't bring you in here to give you a lecture over something small, especially since this is your first time ever running late.

"Y-yes, I just woke up late and then getting to my car, I realized I had a flat, so I had to ask my neighbor to use his pump to fill it" You lied straight through your pearly white teeth and you were confident that he knew it to, just by the look he was giving you

He stares at you for a moment, trying to read you for anything. You were thankful for the fact that sometimes you were an impossible person to read

"Please, just communicate next time- It's not a big deal you were late, we just didn't know what was going on until I had Garcia get a hold of you"

"I will, you have my word- Am I good to go now?" You ask while standing up, yes, the talk went better than expected but you still wanted out of this office as fast as possible.

"Yes, thank you for coming to talk to me. Oh, also before I forget to mention it, at some point today whenever we both have free time, I would like to have a conversation. If it's just at the end of the day that's fine. It just needs to happen"

All you can bring yourself to do is nod your head and walk out of the room, based on the ass end of the phone call you walked in on- You have a pretty good hunch what he will be saying to you, especially after what Garcia also let you in on

It makes your heart ache- knowing that he could have a girlfriend, knowing this thing that the two of you had will be coming to an end, by no means were you and Spencer in a committed relationship but you would be lying to yourself, if you said you hadn't gained feelings for him and actually wanted more than just a 'fuck buddy' outcome

"So, is he up in the office? I really need to see him" Tara asks while already walking up there and away from you before you can even give her an answer.

You know for a fact that you are not going to be able to focus on work at all today even if you try your hardest, your anxiety is skyrocketing through the roof waiting for this conversation with Spencer and still, wondering when and how you are going to spill the beans about carrying his growing child.

"Alright, what is your issue? Are you pregnant?" Alvez is like a brother to you, nothing has been off limits in the talking department but this just sent you for a whole loop with how bluntly he asked.

You were confident that if it were possible, your eyes would've popped right out of their sockets and into your lap.

"Alvez, I am not discussing this with you right now" you whisper yelled to him, you didn't mean to come off like a bitch at all but god only knows who could've heard him.

"Well, Y/N, If I am being entirely honest. Penelope lets some things slip from time to time" He states like it's the most obvious thing ever.

All you can seem to do is look at him like a dear in the headlights, you feel your skin getting hot and prickly, it feels like there are someones hands around your throat squeezing harder and harder by the second.

"I have to go, I need to go home, I need air" It all comes out in a panic, you get up from your desk and bolt out of the bullpen and down the stairs, you don't even care to take the elevator. You cannot be stuck in a tight spot right now, a tight spot like an elevator.

"Please, just communicate" - "I will, you have my word" the conversation in Spencer's office goes through your mind and you know that you have to communicate with him that you just left work for the day and you don't plan to come back today, atleast- you couldn't and thankfully, it was Friday.

to: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'I have to excuse myself for the day, I'm sorry that I am having to send you a text message about this rather than coming to your office- this is me communicating with you. I will return back to my work duties on Monday, unless of course, a case pops up over the weekend then I will be here'

'also, I know we need to have a conversation, I also have something I need to tell you- let me know when you would like this conversation to take place' -

After sending your texts to Spencer, you set your phone on DND because at this point, you don't want to deal with anything or anyone else today, emergency or not.

Driving home was an entire blur, I mean you made it home alive, so that's what matters, I guess.

Walking inside, you plop onto the couch and turn on your favorite comfort show.. Modern Family.

A few hours later, you wake up in the exact place you laid down at- you thought your couch was so comfy until now when your entire body is in pain.. well, maybe it was your horrible sleeping position.

5:13 P.M -

"sweet baby jesus on a motorbike" You mutter to yourself after looking at the clock

"what are you doing to me?" You ask while poking your non-existent baby bump, granted it was a great sleep so you weren't trying to complain- you had heard from JJ in the past that early pregnancy is exhausting and you will sleep.. ALOT.

**BACK AT THE BAU**

"I just practically asked her if it was true but maybe in a more blunt way, it wasn't meant to come out so.. blunt" Alvez explains to Penelope who apparently watched you sprint out of work.

"I specifically told you not to say anything to her about it, I didn't even mean to let it slip to you of all people, Luke. I don't even think that they were in a relationship which makes this so much more difficult for her, as I could imagine" Pen snaps back at Luke.

"It's not going past me, I'm not opening my mouth to anyone about it" Luke says while walking to the Elevator with Pen, finally the work day was over

"Yeah, you let it slip to someone or who knows, I accidentally do again and Spencer is going to find out which right now, that doesn't need to happen" Pen states while being wildly unaware of who just came up behind them

"What doesn't Spencer need to find out right now and why can't he find out right now?" He asks from directly behind Alvez and Garcia, looking between the two of them for a answer.

Luke and Penelope both seem to jump straight out of their skin, not expecting to be crept up on- in reality, it was not Spencer's plan to creep up on them, he just happened to be leaving at the exact time as them and they didn't hear him coming up in the middle of their 'supposed to be' private conversation that was happening out in the open.

"I- uh it's nothing, well, sir, it's nothing in regards to me, i'm fine- it's not my place to tell you, it wasn't my place to tell, Luke- it just slipped and I am blabbering and I just realized that I need to get home" Before Spencer or Luke could say anything to her or anything more to Spencer, she's in the elevator with the doors closing.

'Nice Penelope, real nice' Luke thinks to himself, feeling a bit annoyed and slightly scared

Turning to look behind him, he sees Spencer's eyes boring right into him like he's staring right into Luke's soul, just waiting and searching for answers.

"Is there anything that you know, Alvez?" Spencer finally breaks the silence, otherwise who knows how long the two of them would've stayed standing there in the awkward paralyzing silence.

"I just know Y/N had to leave early today because, well I don't know why but I just know she left- you're her boss too, she should've communicated with you, right?"

"Right, Luke and she did, I have been trying to text and call her since I received her messages and nothing is going through" Reid is quick to bite back, getting quite annoyed himself being left in the dark and now that he is adding the pieces together, he's assuming these secretive things that "he isn't allowed to know about currently" are about you.

"I don't have any other information, what I told you is all I know- but I do need to get home to Roxy" Luke matter-of-factly states even though Luke knows that Luke is lying, well- not about Roxy but about the first part.

"Mhm, alright. Have a good night, Luke" Spencer gave up on trying to get any information out of the turnips that don't bleed but he is confident when he says this is about you and he will get to the bottom of it.

Back at your apartment, you've finally relaxed after a nice hot shower and ordering from your favorite chinese food joint and yes, still watching your comfort show but this time from the comfort of your own bed.

You still haven't even taken your phone off of DND mode, in your mind all you thought was 'if it is important enough, you know where I live and if you don't, contact Penelope Garcia' and the most important part, you were at peace.

You weren't worried about this pregnancy, you had accepted your fate, you weren't worried about Spencer or his new situ-relationship, you weren't even worried about what had happened with Alvez or Garcia. Peace.

"jesus Spencer, what the fuck" You yell out after walking out of the room and coming face to face with him, to say that you were startled was to say the absolute least

"Well, you would've known I was coming if someone didn't have their phone on airplane mode" He bit back with a darkness in his eyes and maybe a bit of worrisome, you couldn't tell everything with how dark it was.

"I know that I gave people a key to my house for emergencies but our conversation or how I was protecting my peace on a Friday night is not an emergency and frankly, if anyone was that worried, you would've sent someone sooner" You were once again fed up and wanted to continue to be alone with your favorite person, Phil Dunphy.

"I was going to drop our conversation until this weekend or even Monday, when we see each other in person again but funny enough, I was walking out to leave for the day when I walked into Luke's and Penelope's conversation and it was about you and something that I shouldn't be finding out about right now- would you happen to know anything about that?" Spencer replied, getting more and more fed up by the second.

If Spencer didn't know any better, he would say that you looked like you just saw a ghost- he was dead on the money about the conversation and some secret rooting back to you- now to just get it out of you.

Calming down after seeing the state you were rushing into, he comes to you with a softer approach - "Y/N, I want to help you. We've known each other for years, since I started working for the BAU, please let me know. Let me know what is going on. I'm not going anywhere"

You felt like you were about to up-chuck your chinese food all over this poor man, you know you need to tell him.

'Y/N you will never know the outcome of this unless you open your mouth and spill those words to him, be brave, be bold' You think silently to yourself.

"Spencer, I'm pregnant - You are the last person I slept with. I am pregnant with your baby"

if this is horrible, sue me - i haven't written in forever and honestly, this is a little bit longer than i thought it would be - whoops!

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED

& yeah, yeah- i left this on a cliffhanger, if you beautiful humans actually like this, i had planned to make this a 2 parter story or who knows, if i make the next part longer then it could be 3 or more parts.

[bpmiranda]

Fic idea for Hugh ready is needy for her man and they're in a new relationship they're taking things slow ofc but she doesn't want to be too overbearing but he knew all along and loves it just as much

Take It Slow (Hugh Jackman) nsfw

A/N: purely fictional, age gap, f!reader in her early 20s, hugh is 55, fluffy, smut, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex

It has been about six months since you and Hugh connected on the set of Deadpool and Wolverine. You were a makeup artist, incredibly wide eyed and always so very flustered around Hugh. Something Ryan had noticed and it was the Deadpool actor that put a bug in Hugh’s ear about asking you out. “She’s quite young for someone like me, pal.” Hugh had said with a light laugh, looking over at you as you were setting up your station for him.

It was almost inevitable, however. You were incredibly charming once you got past your initial bouts of shyness. Hugh loved how he was able to make you laugh, how he was able to have a conversation with you despite the age gap. “Speaking of,” Hugh redirected the conversation as you gently wiped the fake blood off his face. “Do you like coffee?” He asked and you felt your cheeks warm up as you nodded, growing shy once again because Hugh Jackman was asking you about coffee. You were young, but you knew exactly what that meant.

Six months later, you were tangled in a quite passionate relationship. You knew you were the clingy type of girlfriend, it was something your exes had never failed to make you feel bad about, but Hugh didn’t seem to mind. Of course, you were toning it way down seeing as you didn’t want to come off overbearing. The two of you had agreed to take it slow considering he had just gone through a divorce and he didn’t want the press to begin running wild stories about you.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got an interview today, but my day’s pretty much clear after that.” Hugh called as you were brushing your teeth in his bathroom. You had spent the night for the first time. “Do you want to run and grab some breakfast with me?”

You want to say yes, but you remind yourself to give him space. Take things slow. “I was actually thinking of going back home, I’ve got a few errands to run.” You answered after rinsing your mouth.

Hugh came into the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe as he watched you wash your face and look at him timidly over the fluffy towel. “You’ve got no reason to be so distant, darling.” He chuckled, reaching for your hand and bringing your knuckles up to his lips. “Come to breakfast with me.” He insists and you hesitate.

“What about the photographers?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist as you rest your chin on his chest. “I’d hate to cause a scandal.”

Hugh smirked as he held you close to him with one arm and peered over your head at your backside, admiring the view of your ass in your pajama shorts. “You’re a walking scandal, sweetheart. Nothing we could do to avoid that.” He teases and you shyly tuck your face in his chest where you feel the vibration of his laugh. “C’mon then,” He’s guiding you to the bedroom and you feel those familiar butterflies swarming in your belly. “I can have my dinner for breakfast.” He says into the top of your head before he has you sit on the end of the bed. His lips find yours when he kneels in front of you and you kiss him back as his large hands smooth up your thighs and hold your hips as you make out.

With ease, he lifts you up and moves you further back on the bed, making you grin against his lips. “You’re so strong, Hugh.” You whisper, always in awe of the muscle he’s built up at his age. You hands rub over his biceps and his toned, hairy chest as he hovers over you, observing you with a smug smile.

“You don’t have to keep pretending with me, sweet girl.” He says as he kisses your neck softly, his beard tickles your skin and you giggle lightly, your fingers scratching through his greying beard. “I like that you always want to be around me. Makes me feel good to have you with me all the time.”

You chew your lip nervously and he nudges your nose with his, urging to tell him what’s on your mind. “You don’t want to take things slow?” You ask quietly and he shakes his head.

“Think I’ve gone about as slow as I can with you.” He sighed, caressing your side while petting your soft hair gently. “I need you and I don’t care who knows.”

Your face warms up and you nod, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before he begins to pull your top off. “I always want to be with you,” You sigh as he kisses your chest and your belly. Hugh smirks against your skin and he tugs your pajama shorts down, sighing as you spread yourself open for him with your fingers. His lips press to your knuckles before he moves your hand and he licks your slit, the taste of you so addicting. You moan softly as his hands hold your thighs open, gripping them as he makes a mess of your cunt with his drool which mixes with your arousal. “Always want you.” You murmur, biting your lip as he pulls off his shorts and pumps his cock to harden it completely.

“I know it, sweetheart.” He says as he gently rubs his head through your folds. You shudder at the feeling of him, so thick and long as he fills you up. “Fuck.” He draws in a slow breath and he carefully settles his weight on top of you. You hold tightly onto his shoulders, gasping softly as he drags his cock in and out of you at a slow pace, making your feel every inch. “Can’t hardly get enough of you myself.” He groans, dipping his head down and kissing you softly as he fucks himself into your tight pussy. Your brows arch from the pressure he puts on your cervix and you wrap your arms securely around his neck as you take his whole length.

“Oh, Hugh!” You whine, your back arches, pressing into his firm chest while he begins marking your neck, growling lowly as your walls constrict around him so tightly he could blow his load right there. “You-You’re gon-na make me c-cum!” You mewl as your thighs tighten around his waist and he groans approvingly, driving his cock harder into you, pushing through the resistance of your closing walls until your juices are gushing around his cock. “Ah, Hugh, yes!”

Hugh suddenly lifts you up with ease, making you gasp as you tighten your hold around his shoulders, and he sits on his knees as he sinks you down on his cock, bouncing you like a rag doll. “Tell me you want me.” He orders, nipping at your neck and collarbone as you cry softly into his hair. “Go on, baby, tell me how clingy you are.”

“Oh, Hugh, I want you, I want you all the time. I wanna be on your cock all day.” You whine and lace your fingers through his hair, tugging harshly as you feel him throb inside you at your words. ‘Fuck’ He swears and you bite your lip as his tip kisses your cervix, pressing into it harsher and harsher. “I want to be with you all the time, please, I love you.” You blurt out and you gasp as he grunts loudly, pinning you onto his cock as he bottoms out deep inside your cunt. It spills out of you, mixing with your own juices, and coating his balls as he groans into your chest while you caress his hair. You take a few deep breaths before trying to backtrack your lust fueled confession. “I didn’t-”

“I love you, sweet girl.” Hugh interrupts, smirking up at you and making your face grow hot. “Love you so much.” He sighs, lying you down and kissing your forehead. “I don’t mind that you’re clingy, alright? It strokes my ego to have a pretty thing like you all over me.” He teases and you laugh softly.

“Can I go to the interview with you?” You ask shyly, your index finger tracing the hairs on his chest and you look back up at him. He’s smiling down at you and he nods when your eyes land on his.

“I’ll take you everywhere with me.” Hugh murmurs, kissing your lips softly. “Let me show you off.” He says into your neck and you laugh, rolling your eyes and knowing you’re not going to make it to breakfast.

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[luveline]

hey love! first of all: i have to admit i started watching criminal minds for the first time earlier this year only bc of your spencer fics! can we get more stripper!reader and spencer? love your writing!!!

thank you!! It’s a slow routine. You begin in a crouch in your underwear, just like at the club. Chest to your knees, arms twisted with the backs of your hands touching. But, unlike at the club, this underwear is comfortable. There’s nobody watching, and you won’t make any tips. You don’t have a pole nor a stage. 

You run through the routine but forgo any pole tricks. You stretch for long, slow minutes, dancing from one space to another. The music in your head isn’t anything you’d play at home, but it works to keep time. You end on your knees again. 

It’s not fun. 

You stretch toward your phone and pick it up. Spencer’s texted you twice in the ten minutes you weren’t on it. 

Hi gorgeous, the first begins, do you want to sleep over? I can make you dinner. 

The second, Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever called you gorgeous before, is that weird? Please come over and pretend I didn’t say that if it was weird

A third pops up while you’re reading. Can I come get you? 

You text him back with pleasure. He’s the only guy in your life who talks to you just to talk, without thinking he could fuck you if he says enough right things, even though he has fucked you. Hi babe you can call me anything it’s not weird, I’ll come over! Not working this week, maybe I can stay two days(?) let me know so I can pack enough clothes 

You can stay all week, if you want to. I miss you 

You imagine him holding his phone, his cheeks pink with blush. 

I miss you too, you text back. 

Just bring what you want to and we can work it out later

Working it out later could mean anything with Spencer. He’s silly enough to try and put you in his clothes, and generous enough to take you shopping if it saves the time it takes to drive you home. 

You’ve packed a bag of clothes and shower things when your phone rings. Spencer’s contact photo covers the whole screen, the two of you together with your face cut out, his smile wide. You were both a teeny bit tipsy. 

“Hello?” you answer, bringing the phone to your ear. 

“Hi!” He sounds nervous. “I’m outside. Am I gonna get towed?” 

“Not if you stay in the car. I’m on my way down right now.” 

“Okay, see you in a second,” he says. 

He never looks comfortable behind a steering wheel. You aren’t sure why he doesn’t sell his car, maybe because it’s dirt cheap to maintain. He never seems happy to be driving is all. 

He smiles when you approach his door, which is better. He rolls down the window. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. You bend at the knees to see him better. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I had a weird feeling about you, like you weren’t alright.” 

You lean down further. “I’m okay.” 

He grins. You’re waiting for a kiss he doesn’t give, finding yourself a subject for his staring, completely still as his gaze follows around your face. He makes no move to kiss you, and for a moment insecurity blossoms. 

“Well, you look okay. Are you getting in? It’s cold,” he says, nodding toward the passenger side.

“No help with my bags?” you ask, closing the door when he tries to open it. “Kidding.” 

You round the hood and climb inside. Then Spencer kisses you, polite but emphatic, one on your lips and another just under your jaw as he squeezes your shoulder. You feed into them lovingly.

“Maybe you can stay at my place forever? That way I can stop missing you all the time,” he says, pulling away slowly. 

“And when the mystery is gone?” you ask. 

“I don’t want mystery with you.” 

Spencer takes your bag from your lap and shoves it into the back seat. You drop the smaller one on your shoes. 

“Do you wanna get pizza or something?” he asks. 

You hold your jaw where he’d kissed you. “Sure,” you say, tingles of his kiss lingering under your hand. 

“Or Chinese? What do you want?” 

You want more kisses, but you love that he always gives you options. “Pizza for sure. Curly fries, too. Hold my hand?” 

Spencer takes it with gusto over the gearstick, and whatever felt like it was missing earlier fills itself in. “Wait,” you say softly, before he can take the car out of park, “just…” You grab his side and drag him toward you for a hug. Holding hands wasn’t gonna be enough —Spencer doesn’t know it yet, but you love him, love how safe he makes you feel, love how fun he makes your life. You can be yourself with him, no matter who that really is.

Spencer holds you, his hand across your shoulder blade rubbing soft lines. 

[techwrecker]

Handful of Roses

Summary: It’s you and Logan’s anniversary and he can’t even be bothered to show up. You’re left alone, wondering where he could possibly be.

Genre: Angst ⇒ Fluff

Tags: SFW, minor swearing, angst & fluff (duh), fem!reader, no use of y/n, reader calls logan bub sarcastically, logan is still a mutant, sickeningly sweet ending,

Word Count: 1.6k

Request: "Logan forgets a special event? Angst to fluff. Maybe a birthday, anniversary or special date night."

A/N: Tysm for the request! I really hope you enjoy it!

Other: dividers by @moosgraphics & @saradika (tysm!)

The congealed pasta slid into the trash bin with a solid thud. Hours of your hard work gone to waste.

Tonight you and Logan were supposed to be celebrating your one year anniversary. When you suggested the idea to Logan, he wasn’t too keen on going out to a fancy restaurant, so you compromised by promising to fix him something at home. You had made him swear he would be home by 7 to eat. You wanted him for the evening— all to yourself.

And yet.

You checked the time on the stove— 8:45 p.m. You had half a mind to lock Logan out. If he was going to break his promises, you were going to make him pay the price for it. Your heels clattered against the floor as you made your way to the front door. Just as you were about to turn the deadbolt, a tiny piece of your heart shot a plea of forgiveness through you. You hesitated, weighing the pros and cons.

On one hand, Logan deserved exactly what he had coming. You wanted to drive home your frustration. If he wanted to act like an animal, then he could sleep in the dog house.

But then again, staying in the house alone made you nervous. The house you shared was out in the middle of the woods and your mind tended to run wild with dangerous scenarios at the slightest sound. Usually, Logan was home before dark to protect you from your overactive imagination.

You decided to be nice to him. Especially since the rain was really coming down outside and storms made you nervous. And despite how angry you were with Logan, you didn’t want him to come down with anything.

You withdrew your hand from the door. The figure-hugging dress you had put on just for him was starting to scratch at your skin. This was the last straw. You let the plates clatter into the sink, not caring if they shattered or not and stormed off to the bedroom to find your fuzziest pajamas.

You gathered the pajamas and a towel and headed to the shower, turning the temperature gauge as hot as you could stand. You hoped the boiling temperature would take your mind off the disappointment Logan left you alone with.

Unfortunately, as soon as the water had saturated your hair, and turned your skin a flaming red, you burst into tears. You sat down in the bottom of the tub, wrapping your arms around your folded body to console yourself. Salty tears mixed with the water for some time. You weren’t sure exactly how much time had passed since you had gotten in, but your fingers had already pruned by the time you calmed down enough to stand up again.

You knew Logan cared about you, so why did he have to forget stuff like this? It was important to you— you wanted it to be important to him, too. Your life was sucky before he came into it. Was it really too much to ask for him to acknowledge the wins with you? For a man who had walked the earth for over 200 years, a one year anniversary is probably just a drop in the bucket. But to you, it meant the world.

You turned off the water and toweled off. The vibrations of the front door slamming closed shook the walls.

“Hello?” You heard Logan’s voice call out. “Y’home, darlin’?”

You nonchalantly dried your sopping hair a few seconds longer before pulling on your pajamas. You wanted to make him sweat a little. Logan’s footsteps were thudding about the house, looking for you. You waited in the bathroom, arms crossed.

After a few more minutes, a gentle knock sounded against the door.

“You in there?” His voice was soft and tender. It was the voice he used whenever he pleaded cutely for hugs and kisses. Your expression softened out of habit. Not fair.

Your mind brought you back to reality. His manipulative tactic only fueled your anger. You ripped the door open. “Yes, Logan. I-“

Logan’s appearance cut your spiel short. He was filthy. Sloppy mud was splattered from his boots to the chest of his t-shirt, his jacket was soaked through, and his face was covered in dark grease— a giant, walking contrast to your soft, pink appearance. He extended his arm to you, a wilted and nearly bare bouquet of roses in his fist. His forlorn expression reflected the misfortune of his appearance. You almost felt sorry for him.

“Before you say anything,” he rushed out. “I want to tell you that I can’t apologize enough, darlin’. These are f’r you.”

“What the hell happened?” The hot tears threatened to well up again. “You were supposed to be here hours ago,” you said, shakily.

“I know, I know. The goddamn pickup quit on me after work tonight. Nobody in town had the part I needed.” He paused, expecting you to cut in. You kept silent and let him continue his excuse. “I had to walk home in the friggin’ storm.” He raised his arms in exasperation.

It explained why he was late, but not why he was absolutely covered in mud. At most, his boots would have been caked.

You jutted your chin out, gesturing to his mud-covered body. “And that? You’re gonna be late and track mud through my clean house?”

“You’re gonna laugh at me.” He looked down at the floor, avoiding your eyes.

You crossed your arms and set your expression in a slight frown. It was difficult to be intimidating in pink, fuzzy pajamas and slippers, but you did your best anyways. “Try me.”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, clearly embarrassed. “I slipped.”

“What do you mean, ‘you slipped’?”

“On the walk home. Tripped on a tree root and fell face first. I tried savin’ the flowers but…” He let the twiggy bouquet speak for itself.

You thought for a moment. It was difficult to imagine your stoic Logan tripping on anything, much less falling into mud and trying to save delicate roses in the process. A tiny smile crept onto your lips. You took the few flowers that were left out of his hands and took a whiff. Logan visibly relaxed his shoulders as you accepted his gift.

“I figured once my truck is up’n’runnin’, we could go out to celebrate instead.”

You lit up, eyes jumping from the roses to meet his gaze. “Oh, Logan! You mean it?”

“‘Course, darlin’. How else ‘m I supposed to make it up to my favorite girl?”

How were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that? His deep hazel eyes contained nothing but devotion for you with a smile sweet as honey.

“I guess I’ll make an exception— just this once,” You gave in to his appeal.

He made a move to envelop you in a hug, but he was met with your index finger pressed to his chest before he could wrap his dripping, disgusting arms around you.

“Nuh-uh. I don’t think so, bub. You gotta get cleaned up before you come any closer.”

He looked down at the clothes sticking to his body. “Oh— right.”

You sidestepped around him, giving him a wide berth trying to avoid touching the mess of a man. He left the door open as he peeled the clothes from his body. He had no shame about his body and you didn’t mind one bit. Making your way to the kitchen, you found a delicate glass vase under the sink. It fit the handful of roses nicely. Despite the rough journey, the roses that did make it out were somehow still perfectly picturesque.

The roses reminded you of your relationship with Logan. It’s not exactly like he was the easiest person to live with. In fact, you had bought more sheets in the past year than you ever had in your entire life. His nightmares could get awfully terrible. You would hop out of bed and run to the other side of the room— not because you were scared of him. But because you knew he would never forgive himself if he hurt you, even unconsciously. It was one of the little ways you were able to try and protect him— by protecting yourself.

But when you were with him, it was hard to imagine being anywhere else. Logan adored you. Every fiber in his being did everything it possibly could to please you. You knew he would always love you.

The shower shut off, hazy steam rolling from the bathroom into the hall. You pulled out a bag of popcorn to make while Logan got dressed. As the kernels began to pop, you heard his heavy footsteps carry him to the bedroom. The opening and shutting of drawers told you he was about finished up.

You were monitoring the popcorn when now-clean Logan wrapped his arms around you from behind.

“Hiya, darlin’.” His voice was low and relaxed. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and nuzzled into your neck. His soapy scent somehow made him more attractive.

“Hi baby,” you said, bringing your hand up to caress the side of his head. His hair was still damp, but you didn’t mind. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you today.”

“I miss you every day,” he said into the crook, his warm breath brushing against your skin. He lifted his face to meet your gaze.

You tilted your head to give him a gentle kiss, lips tenderly pressing together. His scratchy facial hair grazed your face. The sensation kept you grounded— reminded you that he was real and he loved you.

He cupped your face, turning you toward him slightly. He searched your eyes and found only love in them.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.” He pulled you tight against his chest, letting his strong arms swathe you in his adoration. “I love you.”

You melted into him. What would you ever do without your Logan?

“I love you too, Logan.”

Taglist: @arthurcerverogf @gdsvhtwa vwa @rosiahills22 @lonewolflupe

Join the taglist! || AO3 || Thanks for reading!

[romugh]

SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears. 

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her. 

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

[witchesverse]

run away, toy.

pairing: dark!wandanat x fem!reader

summary: you don't know how long they've kept you as their toy, but you decided it was time to escape again. what a big mistake.

content: dark/abusive themes, choking with magic, being kept in a cage, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, chasing, hair pulling, heavy manipulation, dubcon, strap-on sex, anal, overstim.

masterlist

You cringed at the loud slaps your bare feet made against the wet concrete. You were trying to be subtle, but obviously were failing at that. Your breathing was ragged, and your legs were burning. You wanted to slow down but you knew that if you did, Wanda and Natasha would be on you immediately.

You turned a corner and felt your heart drop. You ran into a fucking alley way. A dead end.

No, no, no.

You turned around, hoping you had enough time to escape but you didn’t.

Her red eyes shone in the dark.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You couldn’t see where the assassin was, but you knew she was near. It honestly surprised you Natasha didn’t get to you first. She has the proper training for hunting.

“Wan- “

You felt your throat constrict and you gasped for air. Your clawed at your throat and your knees buckled. Your vision started to fade.

Wanda silently stalked towards you, with each step, her boots echoed in the empty alley way. She stood over you with a disappointed look on her face.

Then everything went black.

●・○・●・○・●

You woke with a gasp, immediately sitting upwards and hitting your head on something metal. You look upwards and sigh. You’re in your cage again.

“Of course, I’m sure.”

You shudder at the sound of the familiar voice. Carol Danvers.

The blackout blanket around your cage makes it impossible to see anything, but you recognise her voice.

You mean, how could you forget?

The blackout blanket is suddenly ripped off your cage, and you’re left squinting and blinking as your eyes adjust to the bright lights. Wanda and Carol were sitting around a table, holding no doubt, coffee in their hands. Natasha stood in front of you, unlocking the cage before grabbing you by the hair and pulling you out.

You huffed as your lifted to your feet and shoved towards Wanda. You awkwardly stood in front of Wanda with your hands behind your back, just how she likes it.

Carol took this as her cue to leave.

“I’ll see both of you soon.” She smiled at Wanda and Natasha “I’ve left Valkyrie alone for too long.”

Wanda didn’t look away from you nor did she respond to Carol. Natasha did for her, wishing her a safe travel.

The moment you heard the door click and lock, you moved backwards.

You don’t get far before Natasha wraps her arm around your chest, constricting your arms and holding you to her chest.

Wanda stood, her emotionless face finally breaking.

“Do you even know what you caused?” Wanda hissed “Running around the city naked like some idiot. People saw you, and Carol had to kill them. Do you enjoy knowing that innocent people are dead because of your foolishness?”

You shook your head, already feeling the tears forming in your eyes. You wanted to believe Wanda was lying, but she doesn’t lie.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you- “

“Don’t fucking speak!”

You flinched.

“We give you a perfect life here, yet you still decide to be selfish.” Wanda was close enough to your face that you could feel her breath fanning across your lips.

Natasha's grip tightened as you tried to wiggle away.

“Should we just throw you away? Go find another toy to love?” Wanda questioned.

You shook your head, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You don’t understand why you disagreed with her. You had just escaped home to get away from Wanda and Natasha, and now that they were offering you another escape, you denied it.

“I’m done with you,” She scoffed “Natasha deal with her and come see me when you’re done.”

That’s when the tears fall. Rejection.

Wanda walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Natasha.

Natasha shoved you into the couch. Positioning your face to be buried in pillows and your ass in the air. She pressed down on your back, forcing you to form into the perfect arch.

“Nat,” You sniffled.

She doesn’t respond.

“Please, say something.”

Nothing.

You heard the zipping of her pants and something cold press against your ass.

“Natty?”

Silence.

Your sniffles slowly turned into soft cries as you felt the tip of her lubed strap press into you. The stretch burned and she didn’t let you adjust before she pushed her full length into you.

Her hands pulled your hips into her tummy, keeping you secure. She lent down and you moaned at the movement.

“Beg for me not to fuck you.”

You whimpered.

She's such a sick fuck.

“Please, don’t. I don’t want it today, please.”

Natasha slowly thrusted into you, forcing your hips to slam back down. It hurt so fucking bad, and you loved it.

All that could be heard were your loud moans and the wet noises of Natasha’s strap drilling into you.

The pain subsided and bursts of pleasure shot through your body. You swore you could feel Natasha in your stomach from how deep she was. It was almost overwhelming.

Natasha dug her nails into your hips, creating crescent-moon marks. She occasionally slapped your thighs, knowing that’s where it hurt the most.

It didn’t take long for you to get close, and Natasha knew it. She basically knew your body like it was the back of her hand.

Her fingers reached down and rubbed your clit in tight, small circles, electing a loud moan from you. She used her spare hand to grab onto your hair, pulling you upwards so your back was against her chest.

The sudden change in positions forced you over the edge. Your vision speckled white and your back arched.

You cried out in pleasure and pain as overstimulation quickly took place. You tried pushing Natasha away from you, but she didn’t move. She continued to pound into you and rub your clit.

“Stop, stop. Please, it’s gonna hurt.”

She refused. It didn’t take long for your second, third, and finally fourth orgasm to be pulled from you.

Natasha let you slump into the couch, pulling her strap from your arse. Tears continued to fall down your face from the overstimulation and regret.

“Is Wanda mad at me?” You whispered, staring at the wall behind Natasha.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “That’s a stupid question.”

You sniffled and watched Natasha leave the room. You were cold but too tired to find a blanket to wrap around your body. You wanted to sleep and pretend that today didn’t happen.

You thought it had been around five months since your last attempt to escape. You weren’t sure, though; time is different with Wanda and Natasha. They removed the clocks from the apartment and refused to tell you the date or time.

You knew Wanda was mad at you, Natasha too. You figured you would have to make it up to them, but you didn’t know how. You had never seen Wanda so angry before.

You had to find a way to make her forgive you.