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starmocha · 2 months ago

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Sunday Reset [Sylus/Reader ★ 4348 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Lazy morning in bed with Sylus and your daughter. A/N: It’s my birthday today, but I guess I’m giving everyone a present instead. 🥹 I know Sylus’ myth had wrecked us all completely, so I’ve brought the fluff. This is a standalone one-shot and not meant to follow any existing series I have. But I won’t stop you if you want to think differently lol

“Hmm…”

You opened your eyes, blinking a few times before your sight adjusted, seeing the empty space in bed next to you. Still fuzzy minded, you wondered where Sylus was, since normally on the weekends, he would adjust his sleep schedule to match yours. Absentmindedly, your hand skimmed down your stomach, pausing when you felt the slight curve, causing you to breath in quickly. You pulled the cover back and stared down at the small bump that had formed just recently.

You were close to entering your second trimester, and your belly was already rounding out again. Even though this was your second pregnancy, it didn’t make this moment any less surreal.

While you and Sylus had discussed in the past about your future family, you both were not actively pursuing it, but also not taking any precautions. When you began having symptoms, you felt like your world had stopped. A few pregnancy tests later, and your suspicion was confirmed. Delighted, you had planned the perfect way of revealing the news to your husband.

You had sent a little messenger birdie his way, tasking her with a very important message and a polaroid she needed to pass onto him.

You still remembered the moment. You had recorded it, after all, having the foresight that this was a memory you wanted to preserve forever. You had recorded your two-year-old daughter scampering down the long hallway to her father’s study, a look of complete urgency on her face, feeling proud that her mother believed she was capable of delivering such an important news to her father. In her tiny hand was a polaroid she had grasped firmly, determined to not let it slip away.

Barging into his study, the toddler had rushed over to her father, exclaiming, “Message for you!”

Sylus had laughed, always delighted to see his daughter. “Oh?” He had humored her, eyes twinkling with joy and mischief when he had seen her serious expression. “Now who sent this messenger birdie my way?”

“Mommy!”

He had laughed again, the richness of it still ringing in your ears even now. You recalled seeing him peeked up at the wide opening of his study now, undoubtedly noticing your presence outside, but he had said nothing, his entire attention was redirected to the little girl who had climbed onto his lap.

“What is Mommy’s message then?” he had asked, giving a tender stroke of his daughter’s cheek. She giggled.

“Mommy…Mommy…said…she’s…having…a bun.”

You remembered stifling a giggle, already guessing how your short message was going to be butchered completely.

Sylus had looked confused. “She’s…having a bun? For breakfast?” he had questioned, utterly lost by his daughter’s message.

She shook her head furiously. “Oven! In her oven!”

“…she’s making buns?”

His daughter had frowned and shook her head again before shoving the polaroid she held into his face. “Mommy said to give you this!”

Sylus’ face had gone completely white, his breathing stopping instantly in that moment as he looked at the polaroid of five pregnancy tests lined up neatly on the bathroom counter. All positive.

“…Bun in her oven,” he had repeated, clarity seemingly settling in now. Slowly, his face had broken into a grin. His head dropped, and his chest rumbled with laughter. The little girl sitting on his lap looked at her father confused, wondering if he had gone crazy. Sylus playfully pinched her cheek, making her giggled and whined. Sylus’ voice had dropped to a whisper, almost as if he was conversing with the little girl about a special secret, “A baby…Mommy’s having a baby?”

The girl had nodded excitedly.

“You’re going to be a big sister?”

“Yes!”

Sylus had looked overjoy. “The best big sister,” he then said, leaning down to kiss his daughter’s cheek. He had looked up, his excitement instantly recorded by the phone camera indiscreetly held up outside his study. He sighed in resignation. “Sweetie, enough. I know you’re there. Care to confirm this very important message for me?”

You had turned your phone off, ending the recording. You stepped into his office, smiling sheepishly as you ran a hand over your still flat belly. “We’re having another baby,” you had said plainly, but there was enough weight in your words that made both you and your husband overwhelmed with indescribable happiness.

Sylus had sighed, a look of pure bliss on his face. He adjusted his daughter and patted his lap. “Come here,” he had said, “Let me hold you.”

His head dropped again, face nuzzling his daughter’s. “Both of you.”

Your mind returned to the present, the sweet memory lingering another moment as you remembered the way Sylus’ large hand had rested on your then flat belly, covering it completely. He was so ecstatic. You had seen the way his eyes gleamed with joy at the very idea of you going through another pregnancy again. He had certainly enjoyed it the first time around, you recalled wryly, giving your belly a rub and remembering how he had doted on you, unable to keep his hands off of you.

You sighed and turned to look at the empty space next to you again, but before your thought could proceed any further, you suddenly felt a wave of nausea hitting you out of nowhere. You covered your mouth, stumbling out of bed and racing for the bathroom, and just in the nick of time, you managed to hurl straight into the toilet, groaning as you clutched the sides. Once you felt it was over, you slowly gotten up and went over to the sink to wash up. You looked down at your belly and frowned, your breathing a little labored now.

You steadied your breathing again, sighing in defeat.

This baby was not going to make it easy on you. The first pregnancy had seemed like such a breeze with minimal morning sickness or any of the typical symptoms. This one, however, you were feeling anything and everything from the morning sickness that seemed to come at all hours to intense fatigue that robbed you of any energy to do anything.

Sighing again, you walked over and turned on the shower, letting the water warmed up as you went about brushing your teeth first.

About twenty minutes later, you left the bathroom, changed into new comfortable lounge clothes and feeling more refreshed than earlier. You walked down the hallways to your daughter’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to check in on the little girl. You could hear quiet sniffling and whimpering.

“Baby?” You made your way over to her bed, sitting down just as the little girl sat up and crawled into your arms, whimpering quietly. You felt her forehead. It was warmer than the night before. You and Sylus had noticed she had seemed to be coming under the weather the previous night, having little energy and no appetite for her dinner.

“I want Daddy…” She sobbed into your chest, her small hand grasping the fabric of your shirt to rub between her fingers.

You rubbed the back of her head soothingly, giving her a kiss. “Okay, let’s go find Daddy,” You answered gently, slowly getting up. You balanced her on the side of your hip as you carried her out of the room. She clung to you tightly like a little koala bear, and you soothed her with your soft, gentle voice as you walked down the long hallways.

On your way, you noticed Mephisto flying overhead outside Sylus’ study.

“Mephie,” You called out to the mechanical crow, “Is Sylus in his study?”

The crow cawed in the affirmative and led you to the room. The door was opened ajar, and you pushed it open further, peeking in to see Sylus at his desk on the phone. He noticed you and motioned you in as he wrapped up the call.

“Daddy…Daddy…” Your daughter sobbed harder and twisted in your arms, turning to hold out her own arms to reach for her father.

Sylus ended the call and stood up to walk over to you two. He immediately took his daughter into his arms, the little girl’s head rested on his shoulder as she clung to her father tightly. He rubbed her back soothingly before glancing over to you with a look of concern.

“She seems worse than last night,” he commented.

You nodded and stepped closer. “I think she’s coming down with a fever.”

“Poor little birdie,” Sylus said, and stroked the back of his daughter’s head gently. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed, Little Miss.”

“No!” The girl clung tighter to Sylus. “I want Daddy…and Mommy…”

You both laughed in resignation.

“Okay, okay,” Sylus conceded immediately, “You have both Daddy and Mommy…”

He glanced down at you again. “And how are you feeling?”

You looked at him confused.

“Your morning sickness,” he clarified.

You rubbed your small bump and forced a smile. “I’m okay.”

Sylus saw through your attempt to deflect, and he immediately reprimanded you. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, “I know this pregnancy hasn’t been easy on you. Be honest.”

You sighed guiltily, and nodded in reluctance. “I had a bit of morning sickness earlier,” you confessed. “Is it supposed to be this difficult this time around?”

He looked at you sympathetically, before pulling you into his embrace, holding both you and his daughter close to him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I wish there was a way for me to lessen this burden on you.”

You sighed and snuggled closer, settling happily into his warm embrace. “I lucked out the first time, so this time I’m getting to experience what I had missed out…twofold,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood with a bit of self-depreciating humor. It seemed to work, because Sylus also cracked a smile, picking up on your intention.

“Why don’t I put my two little ladies to bed to rest,” he suggested, already leading you out of his study.

“Well, she needs to rest, but why do I have to, too?”

Sylus looked at you pointedly. “Haven’t you been feeling fatigued lately?”

“Well, yes…”

“And you said work has been exhausting?”

“Also yes…”

“And it’s a Sunday…”

“Yes…?”

Sylus huffed in amusement at your confused expression. “Why don’t we have a lazy Sunday in bed as a family?” He looked over at his daughter sniffling against his shoulder, her face rubbing against him in discomfort. He rubbed her back again to soothe her. “I think we could all use a little extra rest this morning.”

“Fine, you have a point,” you answered with a smile. His suggestion did sound appealing to you, not minding a lazy morning in bed, especially with the people you loved. You blinked in surprise when he handed you your daughter. You balanced her on your hip again, soothing her when she started to fuss again at the loss of her father’s embrace.

“You two get settled in bed,” Sylus said, “I’ll be there in a moment.”

You didn’t question him and just nodded, as you both turned to head in opposite directions. As you headed to your bedroom, you heard wings flapping, seeing Mephisto following you. You smiled.

“Gonna rest with us as well, Mephie?”

The crow cawed happily.

You laughed. You opened the door to your bedroom, smiling as Mephisto flew in and settled on his perch. He preened his feathers for a moment before he seemed to doze off. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was a mechanical crow, you mused, since his behaviors were so lifelike.

“Sweet dreams,” you told the crow as you walked over to the bed and placed your daughter in the middle before you settled in as well, turning to rest on your side. You propped your head up, leaning against your hand while your other free hand stroked your daughter’s head soothingly.

“Mommy…”

“Yes, baby?”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“Daddy has to do something really quick,” you explained, “He’ll be back in a moment. Try to rest for a bit, my darling.”

The little girl moaned softly, clearly in discomfort. She curled up close to you, resting against your small bump. You held her close and sighed. You always felt so helpless whenever she was sick, feeling like you never could do enough to assuage her illness. If you could take away all of her pain, you would do it in a heartbeat.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be okay,” You whispered, holding her close. It was just one child right now, but you wondered how overwhelmed you would be when the baby arrived and you were dealing with two young children. You sighed again, knowing that was a bridge you would cross in your immediate future.

Footsteps sounded from outside the room, and a few seconds later, you saw your husband returning. Looking up, you were surprised to see Sylus returning to the bedroom carrying a tray. On it was a little pink sippy cup with playful green dinosaurs imprinted all around and orange juice inside it. Alongside your daughter’s drink was a steaming cup of ginger tea and a plate of peeled and cutup apple slices. Sylus set the tray on the nightstand as he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking your daughter into his arms. The little girl settled against her father, fussing softly. He stroked her hair comfortingly.

“You should both have a little something for your stomachs,” Sylus explained, carefully handing you the cup of tea. He grabbed the sippy cup and nudged it closer to his daughter, but she pushed it away, whining quietly in annoyance. His tone was gentle, but still firm, explaining to the sick toddler, “You won’t get better if you don’t drink this orange juice, baby.”

The girl whined again before reluctantly letting her father nudged the sippy cup into her little hands. She barely held onto it, making Sylus grasped it before the cup fell on the floor. He gently pushed the cup closer, watching as his daughter took little sips.

“Good girl,” he praised before glancing over at you. His eyes darted to the cup of tea in your hands. “You, too.”

You laughed at his firm tone. “Will I get the same treatment if I whine?”

His eyes twinkled mischievously. “If I recall correctly,” he started, his tone dropping low briefly and his eyes darted to your slightly rounded belly, “The last time I gave you ‘special treatment’…was how you ended up in this current situation.”

You blushed prettily under his impish gaze before hissing quietly, “Not in front of our child.”

“Children,” he corrected you with an insufferable smirk. He reached over to the plate of apples, grabbing a slice as he carefully fed it to his daughter. The girl took little bites, chewing slowly, unaware of her parents’ conversation.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your tea. “You are lucky you are holding her right now,” you said, tone half-serious, but inside you were melting at the sight of him taking care of your daughter so diligently, “Otherwise, I would be beating you with this pillow.”

He laughed, believing you completely. The sick little girl on his lap slumped against him, giving in to her exhaustion as she fell back to sleep. Picking her up, Sylus carried her over to his side of the bed, and as he settled in, he placed his daughter down in the center with both you and him on either side of her. You picked up your daughter’s hand, holding onto it comfortably.

“Poor little thing,” you said. “We should give her some medicine after she rests for a bit.”

Sylus felt her forehead with the back of his hand, and nodded. “Just a little cold,” he said, “A little rest and some medicine and soon she will be back to wreaking havoc at Onychinus’ base.”

You giggled and settled back down in bed. You and Sylus both watched as the little girl slept, her soft breathing heard in the silence. She curled up closer to you again, resting as near to you as she could in spite of your small belly you now carried. You smiled, feeling a strong sense of protectiveness as you held her close.

“Motherhood looks gorgeous on you,” Sylus’ soft murmur broke the silence. He smiled at you lovingly.

You smiled back. “Fatherhood doesn’t look that bad on you either.”

He shook his head, laughing quietly. He pulled you and his daughter closer, the both of you resting within his protective embrace. “Another baby…” he said softly, “Another baby…I still can’t believe it. There’s another baby growing inside you.”

You peered up curiously. “Having any regrets?”

“God no,” he answered back, pinching your cheek playfully.

“Ah—”

He stole your lips, kissing you long and slow. There was a soft hum of approval in the back of his throat when he heard the little gasps and whimpers from you in between the kisses. When he pulled away from your lips, he continued upwards, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then pressing his lips to your forehead. You felt the lingering tingles of where his lips were, your cheeks pinking under his knowing gaze.

“I love you,” he said with a sigh, “Thank you for this. For everything…”

“I didn’t do anything,” you answered feebly with a pout.

Sylus hummed softly. He stroked your cheek. “Sweetie, you have given me so much and more.”

His hand drifted down, resting over your belly. It lingered there as his eyes wandered from his sleeping daughter and over to where his second child was now growing in your womb.

“Do you want a boy this time?”

“Hm?” Sylus looked up distractedly, meeting your curious gaze. You repeated the question, and he huffed quietly, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter,” he answered. He gave your belly another gentle rub. “I’d be happy with a boy or another girl.”

You weren’t aware that you were pouting at his response, at least not until he pinched your cheek again, laughing as he asked teasingly, “What? Are you upset by my answer?”

“A little…” you admitted as you rubbed your cheek. You gave him a slight glare, but he seemed unbothered, his smile widening a little.

“Why? Did you want me to say a boy then?”

You paused, pondering, before grinning at him. “Wouldn’t you think a little mini-you would be adorable to have as well?”

“A mini-Sylus?” he questioned, astonished. He smirked, his curiosity piqued. “Then, sweetie, what does a mini-Sylus look like in your eyes?”

“Hmm…” You considered his question carefully before answering. The contemplative expression you wore garnered a smile from Sylus, clearly amused by the level of importance you had bestowed upon his impromptu question. A moment later, you spoke, “He would be confident…fearless…attentive…”

Sylus watched with amusement as you listed off the numerous traits you had in your mind. He hadn’t truly expected you to give this such a serious consideration, but the way your eyes softened as you spoke sincerely filled him with warmth. He leaned over, kissing you suddenly and stopping you in the middle of your listing.

“Ah—Sylus?”

He hummed softly and pecked your lips again really quick. “Sorry, you just looked so cute, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, but his tone sounded anything but apologetic. He continued to hum softly, his hand stroking down your side, as he was also mindful of the sleeping child between the two of you.

“Boy or girl,” Sylus started, his softened gaze resting on you, “I truly would not mind either one.”

You closed your eyes as he leaned in closer, placing a kiss on your forehead. You looked at him again, smiling as he looked down at his daughter sleeping in the middle, his hand brushing aside the flyaway hair in the toddler’s face. He brushed his thumb against her mouth, wiping away the little drool that dribbled at the corner.

“This time next year,” you began, catching his attention once more, “There will be two little ones sleeping in our bed with us.”

He chuckled in amusement, seemingly delighted by the prospect. “Then it’s a good thing this bed is big enough for them—and more.”

“More?”

“Only if you want more,” Sylus added, amused by your curious gaze. He smiled sympathetically, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek in comfort. “I know this pregnancy has been a little rougher than your first one.”

Your hand overlapped his, the gentle warmth emanated from him carried away your worries. “Well, that is a thought to consider,” you said, adding, “I mean we certainly make beautiful babies, so saying ‘no’ right away would be a shame…”

“And we have plenty of fun making them,” he added with a suggestive tone and lift of his brow, making you blushed.

“Oh, you—”

He leaned in, seizing your lips again, stealing your words and breath in one quick instance. When he parted, his mouth lingered near, his voice carrying shades of sensuality. “And you always look so, so fucking gorgeous pregnant with my baby.”

Your heartbeat skipped, breath a little heavier than it was seconds ago. Your mind struggled to stay in the moment with him, still gripped by his intense kisses and the desirous gaze he had. “L-language,” you chided him, his immediate soft chuckles made your heart pound faster.

“Sorry,” he said with absolutely no remorse heard in his voice, “I couldn’t help it. You know how I feel about you pregnant. Besides, she’s still asleep…”

“Toddlers are like sponges, you never know what they’ll repeat,” you added firmly, though you couldn’t help but blushed at the memories of your first pregnancy and how much he had worshiped you in that state, treating you like a fertility goddess, revering the changes your body had gone through to carry his baby. It seemed history would repeat itself this time around as well, knowing Sylus was only going to fall even deeper in love with you. The look in his crimson eyes was both gratitude and desire, his restraints only held back because you two were not alone in this moment.

“I concede then,” he answered, adding mischievously, “For now.”

Your daughter turned in her sleep, curling up close to Sylus this time. He laughed softly, gently pulling her closer to him, his large hand resting lightly on her small back. He gazed down fondly at his daughter, and then he looked at you, smiling as he watched your hand skimmed over your belly.

“Thank you,” he repeated again, “For this beautiful life you have given me.”

“Sylus…”

“You must know very well that you and the children are my whole world,” he said, his voice warm and his eyes reflecting his deep devotion to you.

Before you could respond, your daughter stirred in her sleep, waking up. She rubbed her eyes sleepily as you and Sylus both looked down at the sick toddler with unruly hair now.

“How are you feeling now, my little birdie?” Sylus asked, rubbing her cheek gently.

“…tired…”

You both chuckled at the lackluster single-word response.

“That’s alright,” you told her, kissing her cheek, “Sleeping will also make you feel better. Would you like some more juice, my darling?”

She nodded sleepily and you reached over to the nightstand to grab the sippy cup. You helped her drink before setting the cup back in its place. The little girl rubbed her eyes and mumbled sleepily again, “Daddy…lullaby please?”

He huffed in amusement. “But Mommy doesn’t like Daddy’s singing…”

“Oh! Don’t make me be the villain!”

Sylus laughed off your glare. “Who said my singing voice was like nails on a chalkboard?” He leaned down and kissed his daughter on top of her head. “At least someone in this room has a well-defined taste and sincere appreciation for my lovely singing voice.”

The little girl pouted, not understanding the conversation between you and Sylus. She looked at her father pleadingly, tugging on his sleeve. “Daddy? Please?”

“Ask Mommy,” Sylus said, smirking at how you had widened your eyes at him, not believing that he would turn on you like this.

Your daughter immediately looked to you, lips quivering. “Mommy…please?”

You sighed and nodded, relenting to your daughter’s little plea. “Daddy can sing you a lullaby…”

You glared at Sylus again, seeing how tickled he was to see you cornered like this. You mentally made a note to get back at him at another date, but for now, you and your daughter both settled back down in bed as Sylus sang.

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word…Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird…”

The little girl let her heavy eyelids drift close again, turning to face you once more. You stroked her head, lulling her into a deeper sleep as Sylus sang her lullaby to her.

“And if that mockingbird don't sing,” Sylus continued, his own head resting on his pillow, his eyes shifting back and forth from his daughter to you, “Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring…”

The morning dragged on with afternoon just a few hours away. The soon-to-be family of four slumbered peacefully in bed together. Sylus’ soft lazy singing filled the silence, the warmth in his voice wrapped around you, filling you with a gentle peace.

How peculiar, you thought, finding his singing voice actually…pleasant to listen to today. Perhaps there was a reason your daughter was so fond of her father’s singing. There was a strong sense of security you felt from hearing his voice, knowing he would never let anything or anyone harm you.

You looked at him through sleepy eyes, the fatigue from your pregnancy claiming you once more. You smiled, seeing his own eyes drifting close as he yawned in between the last few verses before slipping off to sleep, the lullaby ending abruptly. Between the two of you, your daughter snored softly, snuggled close to you and the baby you carried in your womb.

You let your eyes close, falling deeper into sleep, the sweet dream you had unmatched by the wonderful life you had with your beloved.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #x — fanfics #tysm to everyone who've wished me hbd today <333333 #you guys all made this year extra special ilysm #🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

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niyasruledbyvenus · 2 months ago

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Astro Observations

(and maybe even controversial opinions)

Where 4h/cancer is placed can tell you about your home’s size/condition, especially childhood home.

Saturn= small/may feel constricting, Jupiter= large

poorly aspected/malefics/debilitated= ran down home/broken things.

Prey yonis (deer, rat, goat) feel safer in a group & in familiar places. Being by themselves or new places alone can cause anxiety. When out sometimes they feel that they are always in fight or flight or something’s around the corner.

Predator yonis (lion, tiger, snake) may not feel the same way. They may feel sure in themselves and how they can protect themselves. Tiger & snake yonis in particular might feel better off alone. Since both are solitary animals.

Debilitated planets aren’t bad, it just makes the person work a little harder to reap the benefits in that area. Whereas, exaltation comes easy. Which can sometimes make one lazier in that particular area, because there’s no drive. (the same with easy aspects & hard aspects)

For example,

Exalted Pisces Venus (naturally effortless beautiful, “woke up like this” minimal makeup)

Debilitated Venus in Virgo (Cosmetic procedures, tailors, professional makeup, gym trainers, spa, personal stylist/hair stylist)

Venus in Virgo/Scorpio usually tend to be even more beautiful because they actively work to put effort & keep up maintenance.

Mars in Capricorn (wake up early no alarm, straight to the gym, knows exactly their task and when to do it, doesn’t have much trouble with procrastination).

Mars in Cancer/Taurus (might need schedules, alarms, set tasks, mentor/motivator).

Saturn in Libra (gets benefits from hard work right away, not much struggle young, no problem with discipline)

Saturn in Aries/Leo/cancer (rough start in life/a lot of set backs, takes longer to see benefits or gets it after Saturn return/30s, has to actively work on their discipline).

Debilitated Saturn after hard work in younger years, later in life, they usually achieve gains & become a household name.

People tend to say Jupiter is luck. But to me it’s excess. In this world we associate excess=luck. (ie you have a lot of cars, money, children, etc) When it’s not always the case.

For example,

Jupiter in the 7h (Being in a lot of relationships or marriages. But the downside is it doesn’t last because Saturn represents commitment.

Marilyn Monroe multiple divorces

Drake dated a lot of women but no serious relationship.

Jupiter creates a surplus in whatever it touches. But it is not longevity, unless Saturn aspects Jupiter.

A planet that is a benefic can act as a malefic if debilitated & poorly aspected.

If Jupiter is debilitated & poorly aspected it can turn into a giant malefic. Because Jupiter expands what it touches. Rather it’s negativity or positivity.

Some say Mars is where your drive and aggression is. But I see it more so where you get injuries, accidents, or aggression towards yourself or others.

For example,

I’m Aries Ascendant; My Mars/lagnesh is in Virgo/6h. My most serious injuries came from doing mundane tasks around the house. I faced workplace aggression from coworkers & sometimes customers too. Also, I tend to face health issues that affect my daily life. 6h/virgo rules daily activities, physical health, workplace, coworkers.

Mars just went retrograde December 6. I can already see it’s affect on my daily routines/6h. Nonstop nausea, bloating, stomach issues, & headaches everyday. Virgo rules stomach/nervous system. Aries my 1h/Asc rules the head

My whole schedule is out of wack. Today, I dropped my breakfast on the floor and burnt my lunch lol.

Mars, Mercury, Uranus, & Jupiter are all retrograde right now. If you are taking the necessary precautions and your planets are in good dignity, you should be fine. Though it’s still going to be quite frustrating for most people.

Transits mainly do the most damage if you have debilitated or poorly aspected planet that is going retrograde.

Malefics going retrograde to some degree affect almost everyone negatively, but not in the same way. What area varies from chart to chart; the sign/houses it sits in.

Outer planets affect us as a collective. Inner planets affect us personally.

Even though in traditional Vedic/jyotish Uranus, Neptune, Pluto isn’t considered. I still see the planet’s nakshatras/signs/houses in a chart influence a person’s life. Especially, if they aspect personal planets like Sun, Moon, Ascendant.

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

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sweetnothingtm · 1 year ago

Text

every man gets his wish // simon riley

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ "i learned how to make love from the movies" ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

pairing simon x fem!reader

content pure unadulterated smut, maybe a daddy kink?

summary the one where ghost is obsessed w a camgirl

note based off my drabble, thank you for the love ♡ lmk if you want a part twooo

There’s a special place in hell for people like Simon Riley.

He could’ve gone to heaven - but he won’t.

Simon has vices. He has anger issues, and he doesn’t like to share. He doesn’t take precautions, he’s cocky with his wallet and he most certainly doesn’t take orders from anyone.

He’s impulsive, abrasive, and most importantly - Simon Riley only thinks with his dick.

You’re the opposite of him. Careful, gentle and patient, you come across as bubbly and approachable. The sparkle in your eyes just never seemed to die, and an innocent smile is always playing at your lips. You seem to embody everything that Simon could never be.

Not that he would know - you’re just an eager camgirl with a big audience.

Every night, Simon Riley comes crawling to you like a stray dog. It wasn’t meant to be this way, so vile and naughty and delicious. He swore it would only happen once, and yet here he is, pining after the taste of you. He always finds himself with his cock in his hands, eyes rolling up to the ceiling and filthy curses slipping past his lips.

You’ve already started - much to his disappointment.

He’s usually so punctual. Never wasting your time. Always appreciative of the way your eyes sparkle with adoration when he joins the stream. Today was no different - he was just a little too eager and spent the last hour jerking off to the thought of you.

And he’s gonna do it again

The room is cast in a soft glow, your legs tucked beneath you and the soft hum of music playing in the background. Your soft skin is covered in red lingerie, pillowy tits covered by the lace that he bought.

It’s a damn shame - the way Simon can’t be there to take it off himself.

In contrast to the natural shine you give off, Simon is drowned out by the dark moonlight. His body casually leans back against the headboard, eyes trained on the illuminated screen that separates you from him. While he is adorned in shadows, you shine with the soft glow of your exposed skin.

Your lips, pulled into a little pout. Your delicate fingers, dipping between your plush thighs. The ebbs and flow of your body, curves and blemishes that he’s memorized like he owns you.

It’s quite pathetic, really - how infatuated he’s become with a camgirl. But he can’t help himself. He’s got all your videos saved in a folder that he opens at every opportunity.

He’s cum to you more times than he can count, always groaning as the hot ropes of white liquid splatter against his skin. He’d tip you relentlessly, always accompanied by a foreboding message that sent chills along your spine.

Missed you, princess. What a good girl. Finished so soon? What a beautiful little slut.

Your hands are wrapped around a little pink toy that you push between your thighs. It hums against your skin, causing Simon to angrily palm himself through his pants. The sickeningly sweet sound of your gasp has him reeling, cock already beginning to twitch and drip with precum.

His hand continues to palm at it, ignoring the little stain that starts to form on his pants as you continue to stimulate yourself. You gently part your thighs, hair framing your face as you give him - yes, him - a little preview of his deepest desires.

You’re already wet, and he curses himself for being late today. Simon is memorizing the little bow on your panties, the way you push the vibrator against the soft fabric and let your little plump lips part for a moan.

He’s got a toothy grin, rubbing at the tip of his cock and imagining that it’s your delicate hands struggling to wrap around him.

You’d blink up at him with full and eager eyes, lip pulled between your teeth. You’d gently unzip his pants, fingernails dragging against his skin and causing his dick to perk up. He’d rub the pad of his thumb against your cheek, a nasty smirk plastered across his face.

Simon imagines that your tongue would give gentle licks against his irritated tip, that you’d hollow out your cheeks and suck him off until his cum is coating your throat. He would continue to lazily fuck your mouth, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you hummed against his cock.

The sound of your little gasps pulls him from the daydream, eyes sharply trained on the screen as you pull your panties to the side and rub the vibrator against your clit. Your chest is pressed outwards, nipples hard against the red lace that separates him from you.

Before he can stop himself, with his cock twitching underneath his touch and thumb rubbing softly over his tip, he absently clicks on the keyboard. It’s a good thing he’s got his card number memorized.

$250 from Ghost_Stalker

-smile pretty for me, princess.

You pause your movement, vibrator stuck between your folds as you writhe and twitch against it. You squint your eyes, rolling over the message once. Twice. Three times before a smile is tugging at your lips. A hand comes up to squeeze your tit, fingernails dragging against the lace as you lean into the camera and smile sweetly.

“hi ghost - i missed you.”

His belt hits the floor before you finish your sentence.

Your voice is thick like honey, laced with desire that Simon is convinced was meant just for him. The vibrator begins to move again, pressing into your wet core with a little squelch as you mewl out in pleasure.

He follows your pace, eyes fixated on the pink toy that dips in and out of your little pussy. It stretches you, pushing against your folds and humming against you.

Simon is messily jerking himself off as you roll your hips against the vibrator, letting soft pleas fall from your lips. He spits on the tip of his cock, palm rubbing it against his shaft as he grunts happily. The slick and lazy strokes mirror the way you rub the vibrator greedily against your clit, thighs parting like the gates of heaven.

He wants in.

When you pull the toy away from you, the sound of your dripping cunt follows along with it. You wiggle closer to the camera, eyes blown out with pleasure as you press the pink toy into your mouth and lick. Tongue sloppy, eyes rolling in ecstasy and hips bucking against the pillow underneath you.

$300 from Ghost_Stalker

-i missed you more princess. missed your pretty little pussy.

“prove it,” you challenge.

His head slams against the back of the chair, cock covered in his spit as the sounds of your soft laughter that plays from his screen. He bucks his hips up with his movements, imagining that your body is curled around him and bouncing on his lap.

Your nails would drag against his skin, leaving harsh red lines in their wake as he’d let his hand fly to your ass with a sickening smack.

You’d jump, grinding your mound into him with desperation as your perky tits rub against his chest. Simon imagines himself nipping, licking and biting at them, his dick throbbing at the way you’d drool out his name.

In his dreams, you’re an obedient little slut. Ever a tease, you’d bounce on his dick one minute and beg for a kiss the next. He’d wrap his hand around your throat, choking you until you’re seeing stars and begging him for more.

You’re chatting away with sleazy men who can’t afford you, and it makes Simon enraged. It’s him who matters. It’s him who should have your attention. It’s him who you should open your legs for. His stroking gets aggressive, jaw set and hardened as you blow kisses and make false promises. Simon is rubbing himself raw, his free hand going to cup his balls and gently squeeze.

And then someone asks you where you got your cute little outfit. And like the vixen you are, you smile sweetly into the camera and push your tits together.

“Oh? these? they were a gift from someone special.”

And it’s true. He’s your favorite. He’s the one who you’re dreaming of - and it’s embarrassing to pine after a man you’ve never met. But it’s washed away by the burning desire to please him. Only him.

He’s trying so hard to hang on. To regain some sense of normalcy as his dick continues to twitch and warmth spreads throughout his body like an inferno. His eyes are trained on your curves, the way you’ve got a smile lighting your face up as your hips grind into the soft pillow below you. He’s slapping the tip of his dick against his abdomen, letting the beads of precum splat against his skin and forever stain him a sinner.

Here he goes again, thinking with his dick.

$500 from Ghost_Stalker

-put on a good show for daddy.

And you do. The red lace has been slipped off of you, tossed to the side as you reach over and off the screen to grab something. A perfect angle of your tits in full view. Simon follows every movement. He licks his lips in anticipation, stomach heavy with desire.

You sheepishly pull the dildo out, smacking it against your outstretched tongue and dipping a hand between your legs. Dripping, wet beyond comprehension and Simon is lucky enough to watch as you curl your fingers inside your pussy and mewl.

His hips are rutting up, hand fisting his cock in desperation as you suck on the dildo while fingerfucking yourself. His chest is tight, sweat glistening against his skin while he watches intensely. So fucking wet.

You hope he’s watching. You’re praying that he’s jerking off to the sight of you. That you’re both staring up at the ceiling, eyes searching for the constellations that brought you together when the stars aligned.

Is it wrong? To want something that you’ve never known?

Simon can tell you’re becoming undone. You always get riled up with his words, eyes full of excitement as he showers you with attention every stream. In his fantasy, Simon thinks you wished that your delicate fingers were his. That you wanted him to slowly rub at your bud of nerves and press his fingers into your cunt. And then he’d have you sit on his cock and make him watch as he licked his fingers clean.

He can’t help himself when you’re like this, messy and needy on screen with your wet pussy smearing against the pillow that he wishes was his face. You’re whining and panting, fingers dipping in and out of your core as Simon picks up the pace and lets the heat travel up his skin and light him ablaze. Your voice is music to his ears.

“i’m so close- fuck. please, i- gonna cum.”

When you climax, your chest is heaving and a layer of sweat has covered your soft skin. Your hands are dancing across your soft tits, twisting at your hardened nipples that all but scream bite me. He’s smearing more spit all over himself, breath coming out in short pants and eyes dark and heavy.

The dildo rests against your folds, almost as if it’s taunting him. And so what if he blows all him money in one night? It’s going to a good cause - at least, that’s what he’s convinced himself.

$2500 from Ghost_Stalker

-again.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the message, ignoring the chat as it blows up at the extra show. You’re already eager, smacking the tip of the dildo against your folds and rolling your hips upwards.

“a little desperate tonight? i don’t mind - anything for daddy”

It takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. Simon feels like he’s died and been reborn. Like a siren has sung him to a peaceful sleep. Like the explanations for his bank statements are worth it. And when you press the tip of the toy into your dripping wet hole, it feels like Simon can practically smell your sickeningly sweet pussy.

He thinks it smells like candy.

You wince at every inch of silicone that slides into you. Your thighs are trembling, an arm propping yourself up as you whine and mewl like his favorite little kitten. The camera is shaking from your movements, head hung back in ecstasy as you bottom out the dildo and sigh happily.

Such a dirty slut, Simon muses. So nasty. At this point, his strokes are quick and methodical. Tugging at his tip that’s still producing precum, almost as if it’s desperate for release. His balls ache, his eyebrows are knitted in concentration and his abs are tight with anticipation.

“m’ so wet,” you gasp, the sounds of your pussy flitting against the dildo playing on repeat in Simon’s mind. Your thighs are spread fully, and your pillowy tits are jiggling with the movement of you fucking yourself. “are you watching?”

There’s a frenzy in the chat, a hundred eager men thinking that your words are meant for them. You raise yourself to your knees, angling to toy to press against your folds as you bite your lip. “i bet you are. guess what?” You breathe, eyes twinkling with mischief. “i wish you were here.”

Oh, how wrong they were.

He's close. The edge that he’s built is about to fall beneath him, collapse into a million pieces while you get drunk off the way the dildo slips in and out of you. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your chest is heaving, lungs struggling to take in air as you climb that high once more.

You whine and beg to yourself. Simon curses and lets his hips snap up against his stroking. His cock is unbearably hard, skin tingling with the sensation of pure lust that consumes him. You bounce and grind on the dildo with need, hair falling back against your bare shoulders as Simon drinks in every ounce of you.

Legs shaking, tits bouncing and hands coming up to play with your nipples, you look like a goddess. He’s never been so entranced, so enthralled and so obsessed. The way your nails dig into your skin, squeals of pleasure ripping through your stomach as you cum around the toy. You roll your hips greedily, savoring the orgasm and rubbing quick circles against your clit.

It’s all that it takes to have him squeezing the tip of his cock and shooting hot cum all over his stomach. It’s shameful, pathetic and downright heavenly. He promises that he’ll never cum to anyone but you.

The overstimulation has you reeling, chest heaving and eyes watering in excitement as a wave of pure bliss is crashing against you. The chat is singing praises to you, falling on deaf ears as you lazily still your hips and lean forward - dildo still firmly shoved in your pussy.

“are you satisfied?” You ask innocently. No, never. You don’t say his screen name, but it doesn’t matter, he knows it’s him you’re talking to. He knows by the way you slide off the toy, hair sticking to your skin as you slip on the red lace as a sign that the shows coming to an end. He knows by the way you dip your fingers between your wet folds, gathering the sticky cum around your digits - before you lick it off them like such a good girl.

He has to have you.

$5000 from Ghost_Stalker

-i’ll double it if you do it again

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izvmimi · 6 months ago

Text

cw: teacher!prohero!izuku and prohero!reader with a healing quirk. accidental injury of a student. mostly just banter.

Izuku can sense your annoyance from the door but walks in anyway to the UA nurse’s office, thirty minutes after the close of classes for the day, as is your arrangement any time you work part-time at the school. (He’d argue that it’s an unnecessary precaution because he talks about you enough that his kids are well aware and quite partial to your relationship, but you can’t help the embarrassment when you’re spotted by his unofficial student fanclub.)

You’re still typing up today’s documentation from the kids you saw today - more than usual given the nature of today’s training exercise - and when he approaches, closing the door before carefully offering you a kiss on the cheek from behind, you turn to him with narrowed eyes and he knows he’s in for it.

“Sit.”

He sighs, dropping himself onto the nearest made bed and folds his hands in his lap. You type the last of your notes and save them, then swivel around in your chair. Once your eyes meet, he’s pouting, and part of you immediately wants to pull back, but stubborn as you are, you persist with your less than satisfied glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, there was no way for me to know that kid would pull such a desperate move!” Izuku immediately defends himself animatedly. “We gave them clear instructions to either flee or fight, and they should know better not to fight a pro, and I truly did not mean to hold on that tight, plus it’s not like I don’t feel bad, I felt terrible! But the villains will not feel terrible for one second so it’s not like it’s a bad lesson to learn-”

Your hand goes up to motion dramatically for him to save it and Izuku stops immediately, then sighs again, before letting his body hang back and rest on the bed. You don’t nag that often, but when you do, it’s incessant and worse because you’re often right the whole way through.

The move in question had happened during the classic 2 student vs 1 teacher fight, an event you remember clearly yourself from your days at UA and weren’t particularly a fan of. The kids, understandably, were excited to go up against their teachers and this iteration would include Pro Heroes from the golden class of yore, 1A, as substitute teachers and thus was quite the event. Naturally, this was a good day for you to substitute as a school nurse as well.

One of the students had tried to make a sudden dash for it on the left side while trying to escape Izuku’s grip on their arm, and Izuku, slightly distracted while prompting the other terrified student to think carefully about their next move, had not budged or known to let go, which led to a prompt shoulder dislocation.

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t terrible. Izuku let go immediately at the kid’s shriek, the other proctors had rushed in to bring the kid to you, but you weren’t enthused by the situation, not one bit.

“You know, I expected this sort of nonsense from Bakugou, but you?”

Izuku nods, then becomes pensive as he rubs his chin with his hands. “To be honest, I’m quite impressed with the fact that not one of his opponents got singed more than a hair, but I also think his kids employed a far better strategy than mine, considering that they seemed to suggest they were going to fight upfront and then immediately feinted into an escape that fooled him - that being said I think part of that might have been Kacchan’s assumption that the kids would try to fight him to prove themselves and that worked to their advantage, but notwithstanding the fact that he was quite careful with them and chose a far less physical approach, although-”

You’re up on your feet, pulling on both of his cheeks before he can keep talking.

“The point here is not to be praising ‘Kacchan’, it’s that you HAVE to be more careful with these kids! What if they’d lost that arm?!”

He pouts again, and the second time works and you unwittingly soften.

As much as you’re conservative about injury, this is a Hero school, the same place where Izuku practically lost the use of his own arms out of his own recklessness time and time again while on campus. Sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him finally, you let out a sigh that’s only partially defeated.

He won’t call you too sensitive, but the truth is you are.

“I’ll be more careful next time,” he promises you. “It’s still a learning environment and the kids should be safe no matter what.” With that, he reaches for your hand, then presses the back to his lips which brings a smile to your face.

You exhale.

“Do you remember when you and Katsuki fought All Might?”

Izuku blinks for a moment as recollection bubbles into his subconscious.

“Oh, yes.”

“That day I was so upset but I don’t think anyone could tell,” you say to him. You’re both laid back now, staring at the ceiling and as your hands remain interlaced, you’re transported back to high school.

He chuckles.

“Why? Because I was getting my butt kicked?”

You laugh under your breath.

“All I could think of was ‘why is a practical god fighting us, we’re just kids?’”

Izuku laughs harder this time, then turns to face you. Cupping a hand on your face, he leans in and whispers,

“Do you think we’re the gods now?”

There’s a hint of amusement, but also the faintest whiff of melancholy, easily missed if not for the fact that you’ve watched him so carefully all these years.

You can hear the effect of slow near complete recovery of a Quirk, several Quirks, that were once much too much to bear, the far too heavy weight once on his shoulders, relieved now by the help of friends and loved ones, emotional scars that have healed over but run deeper than the ones your fingertips slowly glide over whenever you hold him close.

“I like being human, personally,” you whisper back. There’s a wistfulness in his green eyes as he takes your statement to heart.

“Me too.”

He kisses your forehead, then the two of you quickly remember where you are, then rise to your feet.

“Let’s go now?” he asks, swinging your work bag over his shoulder and reaching his hand out for yours.

You take it gingerly and he raises an eyebrow.

“Gotta make sure I don’t make any sudden moves, you know,” you tease, and he scrunches his eyebrows at you.

“Mean.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs as you leave the campus grounds to make it home together.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #pro hero deku x reader #deku x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes #mimidoriya

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sweetbans29 · 8 months ago

Text

Little Flirt - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Caitlin and you flirt for way too long (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Switching up the prompt just a little but I think it will help with the flow.

2020/2021

Life as everyone knew it had flipped. The end of your freshman year in college was not what you had expected in the slightest. It went from being one of the best things you had ever experienced to what felt like nothing. Due to the pandemic, your freshman year was cut short which also meant your first season as a collegiate athlete was also cut short. It was a bummer - to say the least.

So when Fall came around you were excited that your school welcomed back part of the student body. Under very strict guidelines your team was welcomed back and given the green light to begin your sophomore season. Before you got there, everyone was required to quarantine alone for 2 weeks in a nearby hotel before being able to move onto campus. Once you were able to get to campus, they did another quarantine, in groups, as a secondary precaution. It sort of made sense considering the people you were going to be around the most were your team.

Once the month of quarantine was over, you and your team were finally able to hit the gym. It was great to be back with the team and welcome the new freshman. It didn't take them long to warm up to you on the court considering everyone's lack of human interaction had people longing for connection. After the first few weeks, everyone played as if you all had been together for a few months. It began to feel like things had gone back to normal.

When games started you were reminded how not normal the world was. Everyone had to get tested multiple times before playing games which wasn't the weirdest part. The weirdest part was the fact that there was absolutely no one in the stands. Every school you played at tried their best, yours included, but it wasn't the same.

The games were still competitive and a little more physical than you recall. None of it really mattered considering you were just happy to be playing again. All of this leads you to today's game.

It is an away game for your team as you travel to Iowa for the first time of the season to play the Hawkeyes. You weren't a huge fan of away games, all thanks to the pandemic but your love for the sport kept you going.

Both teams are warming up and you begin to scout the other team. There are a few girls you take note of - one of them being their center. Another is a smaller girl, sort of scrawny frame but can shoot from anywhere - anywhere being multiple feet behind the arc. You know you are going to have to switch up the way you play defense but aren't too worried.

You look at her again and begin to really study her features. After a few minutes of watching her, it clicks. It's Caitlin Clark. You've heard of her. One of the things you always enjoyed doing was scouting out the next group of freshmen coming up and she was one of them. There were a few girls coming into the college game that caught your eye, Caitlin being one of them. You were excited to play against her.

When the game started, you saw yourself being challenged. You had the task of guarding the freshman and she was a challenge. She was everything the scouting report and media said she would be on the court. Her range was amazing, she never stopped taking shots and she had a solid pull-up game.

Throughout the game, the two of you kept going back and forth on who would win the little matchups. You could see the competitiveness in her eye and would send her smirks to get her riled up even more any time the play went your way. She would make it a point to come and mutter some sort of trash talk to you when the possession went her way. It became a little game within the game.

The game ended and your first matchup between the new star went your way. Even with the loss of her team, Caitlin dropped 21 points which you found impressive. After the game, you made sure to pull her aside.

"Hey, Clark!" You called after her as she was heading back to the locker room. She turns back and you can tell she is pissed but the loss - you can only assume you are the last person she wants to see right now. When she sees it is you, her hard exterior breaks and she gives a shy smile.

"Hey," she says and stops walking making you walk to her.

"You are going to be a little pain in my butt these next few years, aren't you," you say teasing her. Her smile grows and you can see a little blush creep into her cheeks. You were only a year older than her, but could tell you had an effect on her.

She just shrugs not really knowing what to say.

"I just wanted to come over and let you know that you are going to do great things. I am sure people say that to you all the time, but as someone who has now played against you - I hope there is a day when we can be on the same side of the court instead of opposite ones," you say and give her a genuine smile. "I look forward to our next matchup."

Your hand grazes her arm and gives her elbow a little squeeze. You give her one last smile and begin to head back to your team.

"Next time, I won't go as easy on you," she calls out to you. It makes you smile but you don't turn around to let it show, instead, you throw up your hand, flashing her your middle finger. You hear her laugh and you shake your head.

You know she means it, the next time you match up she won't go easy on you but it goes both ways. Now you have both seen how the other plays and know the next few years are going to be fun.

You played Caitlin once more during this season and her team took the win. The game was exactly how you expected it to be - she trashed talked a little more than you had expected which you did your best to return but your team losing put you in a slump. At the end of the game when your teams high-fived after she leaned in and whispered 'Now we're even'. Let's just say her words fueled you.

2021/2022

When you looked at the schedule for the year, you noticed that you would be playing the Hawkeyes three times. You have three chances to show her you are not one to just let her win.

Your first meeting was a fun one. They started letting some people into the crowd and that only fueled your little rivalry with Caitlin.

It really wasn't a rivalry but anyone looking in could see that the two of you talked more than any other competitors. The first two meetings between the two of you were back to back which was new to you and your team. Typically you would play teams a little further apart but this matchup was different.

Caitlin's team took the first win and she would not stop talking to you about how she was on top and would always be on top. You on the other hand were determined to never lose a game to her again.

Your little conversations on the court started to be noticed by both of your teams, not that either of you cared. You both had the stats to prove that you belonged in the starting line-up and on the court.

Your second meeting got a little heated as you tried to get into Caitlin's head a little more.

"Your hands have found my hips a lot tonight Clark," you say as the two of you are standing in the backcourt as one of her teammates is taking her free throws.

"It's called defense," she says like it is a known fact. You step a little closer to her to make sure she is the only one to hear your next comment.

"If they go any lower, we may have a different problem on our hands," you say just above a whisper and watch her reaction. All the color drains from her face and you nudge her. "I'm kidding, babe."

You can see the tenseness in her shoulders release as the game continues. Your team came out with the win and just like that you were tied again.

Your last meeting for the year was the toughest yet. Your two teams battled valiantly, taking the game to overtime. By the end of it, you were beat. Before you headed into the locker to felt someone grab your arm. Turning you see Caitlin.

"Clark," you say surprised. You give her your best smile which isn't much considering how tired you were.

"I just wanted to come over and say good game," she says and you can tell she is a little nervous. If you weren't so tired you would keep the conversation up but you were exhausted. So instead, you pulled her into you and enveloped her into a hug. She melts into you and the two of you stand there hugging for a few minutes.

Your eyes are closed as you hug her. It wasn't until you felt her arms wrap around you did you realize how much you missed physical touch.

Caitlin on the other hand had been dreaming of this since your first meeting. She stood there in your arms and knew for sure she wanted to be in them forever. She would never tell you that of course and decided to keep her little crush to herself.

You give her one last squeeze and pull away.

"The way you had me running up and down the court," you say with a laugh. "You have me needing a week to recover, babe," you say and give her a little nudge.

"Me? You literally pushed your team to get you into overtime," she says and pushes you back.

"Ya, whatever. I wasn't going to let you win again," you say.

The two of you parted ways for the night. As you went to bed that night you decided to DM Cait.

[You: Looks like you are no longer on top ;)]

2022/2023

It is your senior year and you decided to declare for the WNBA. It had been time, you felt like you had a good college run and were ready for more. Your team was the first to know you were declaring and then you decided to tell Caitlin. The two of you had talked a lot more and would often DM at least once or twice a week so it only felt right to let her know.

Caitlin fit into your routine really seamlessly. You credit the fact that the girl was always on her phone but really it was that her care and love for the game matched yours. The two of you went from being 'rivals' to friends and you would now consider her one of your best friends.

It's your draft night and you were likely to be the first pick of the 2023 WNBA draft. Even in that, you were extremely nervous. The night goes by in the blink of an eye. You were drafted to the Indiana Fever and could not be more excited. When you were lying down in your bed that night, you finally had a chance to look at your phone. The first thing you looked for was a message from Cait.

[Caitlin: Congrats on going first in the draft, can't wait to watch you 🤍]

[You: Thanks Clark - you'll have to hold down the college scene until you hit the draft]

You decide to message her your number, which in your opinion is long overdue but felt like it would lead to something more than it should be as rivals during your college years.

She immediately messages you.

[Clark: Can't get rid of me now]

[You: Oh I have my ways if I really wanted to]

[Clark: Hey! Just because you are a professional now doesn't mean you need to be mean]

[You: Don't give me a reason and we’ll be okay]

2023/2024

Your rookie season is a hard one - the transition is one that everyone says is going to be difficult but experiencing it is a whole other thing. You were tested physically and mentally and really leaned on your team and those around you.

Caitlin would always check in and give you her little trash-talking notes via text whenever you played. They would always end with some sort of praise but it wouldn't be Cait if it didn't have some sort of attitude.

Caitlin was the first to call you when you got named Rookie of the Year. She had slowly become your biggest fan and sent over a giant bouquet of flowers the second it was announced.

You would also check in on her during her season as she got closer and closer to breaking the NCAA women's scoring record. You even made it to the game when she broke the all-time NCAA scoring record. When one of the TV stations found out you were there, they asked if you would do a little interview.

"What brings you all the way to Iowa?" The interviewer asks.

"Well, that's simple. Clark," you say with a beaming smile.

"Do you know her well?"

"I would say so, she can be a pain in my butt but she's fun. Great player and her IQ for the game is one that is just memorizing to watch." You say.

"She hasn't explicitly declared for the draft but if she did, there would be a high chance of her getting drafted first similar to you which would mean she would be heading to Indiana. How do you feel about the potential of playing on the same team?"

"Well that is quite the hypothetical," you say with a laugh. "But I think it would be really neat to play on the same team as her, we have always played against each other and I think we would be pretty dominant on the court together."

Caitlin broke the scoring record that night. She was on Cloud 9 after the game. More so over the win than the record, it was cool but that wasn't the reason she played.

You had made your way down to the court to find her. When you did you ran up behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist. It took her s second to realize it was you and when she did, she started jumping up and down. When you released her, she flipped around and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

"Way to go Clark," you whisper in her ear. "Proud of you babe"

She doesn't let you go and you feel like people are starting to suspect something. You bring your hands down to pinch her sides and she jolts back with the cutest disappointed look on her face.

"Why?" She asks and you laugh.

"Looks like there are people who want to talk to you," you nod your head over to the people waiting to get a picture or interview with her.

"Are you staying in town?" She asks hopeful but you shake your head no.

"Don't worry, I'll see you soon," you say and pull her in for one last hug.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," she whispers in your ear. She nuzzles her face into your neck and inhales your scent. You feel the tickle of her on your neck and give her one last squeeze.

You follow her and her team as they head in March Madness. You go to support her again when her team makes it to the Final Four. It is a nail-bitter the whole time but Iowa is headed to the championship.

At the end of the game, you make your way around to some of the players. You go to all the players you know, ending with Caitlin. You tell her how excited you are that she declared for the draft and make a joke about soon being teammates.

Before you know it you are dressed and on the orange carpet of the WNBA draft.

You being the no.1 draft pick the previous year and Rookie of the Year, were tasked with interviewing all the girls that came down the walkway.

The one person you were looking forward to seeing had finally gotten to you.

"Clark!" You yell as you welcome her and give her a hug. You make sure it is a quick one but Caitlin has something different in mind as she does not let you go. It didn't matter too much considering you had already seen the edits of the two of you but you were supposed to be the professional. You pinch her side, like you typically do to get her to release you and she complies.

"Okay, how do you feel about draft night?" You ask her.

"It is all sort of surreal. Like I can't believe I am here," she says with a beautiful smile.

"Well you are here and you are looking better than ever. Prada? Girl you are stunning," you say and play with the bottom of her jacket. She looked so good but you made a mental note to stare for too long. She laughs and puts her hand on your arm.

"Ya, the first Prada dressed someone in the W, it's pretty cool," she says and takes note of you checking her out.

"Well I will let you keep going but it is really great to see you and who knows, there is a potential we will be playing together soon," you say.

"Thank you," she says and leans in to give you one last hug.

Caitlin was drafted first of course and you were beyond excited. After she was interviewed and pulled back for some photos you found her and gave her a huge.

"We're teammates," you practically yell in her ear. She laughs.

"You are going to blow out my eardrum," she says but doesn't break the hug.

"You're being overdramatic, Clark. I am just excited," you say.

You pull her to the side once she is done with the shoot.

"So now that you'll be coming to Indy, you gonna let me take you out on a date?" You ask and she begins to smile and blush like a little schoolgirl.

She nods.

"4 years is a long time to make a girl wait, Clark," you say with a smile of your own.

"Ugh, why do you always call me Clark," she says as if it annoys her and hides her face in your neck.

"Well because it annoys you of course," you say and rub her back.

She mumbles something in your neck.

"What was that babe?" You ask.

"About time you asked me out," she says and you push her back in disbelief.

"Oh, now this is on me now? That's funny Clark," you say and she wants you to hold her again. You keep her at arm's length.

"Hug me," she says, borderline whines.

"Not until that date," you say and slowly begin to back up. She is now the one looking at you in disbelief. "See you at training camp!"

AN: This is a cute one. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark concepts #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark masterlist

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ggirlthatgotaway · 18 days ago

Text

Not Cold Any Longer (modern au)

summary: Aemond is that guy you’ve known since you were kids, the one you’ve never talked to and that had gotten fucking weird. But you end up becoming friends, and you find out that not only he’s right about your shit boyfriend, but also that he’s a fucking ride that can keep you boiling hot all the time.

trigger warning: explicit language, mention of useless men, mention of Franz Ferdinand, sexual content, name calling, choking, slapping, loving, maybe other things.

word count: 6.2k

note: Aemond is not hotd-Aemond but the FontainesDC-hottie-freak (fuck me<3) . also english is my 3rd language and i haven’t written a complete smut since i was 13 (read, don’t judge) so yeah do tell me what you think

-💎

The cold air of the night was hitting your face, and it stung your skin despite your best efforts to hide it in the collar of your jacket. You didn’t want to go back home, you wanted to keep walking, to go to him.

From your house to his, there was a six-minute drive, which meant a forty-five-minute walk for someone who walked quickly. Perfect, you thought to yourself as you glanced around the dark street, not a sound to be heard.

Your mind raced back to earlier that day, to the reason why you were walking to his house. His words replayed in your mind over and over: “Don’t you fuckin’ understand?! Really?” he had shouted, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, but a hint of sadness was lacing them. He had tried to hide it, as always, like the rest of his emotions.

He had already told you that you were able to understand him despite his precautions- “I don’t fancy how ye keep readin’ me mind, love.” he had said with a soft grin and happy eyes. But that was a completely different circumstance; it was something light, about why he had started inviting you to gigs instead of bringing his friend, Sal.

Anyway, him telling you that you didn’t understand had your heart twisting in pain, both when those words had left his mouth and when you thought about them again.

He had gotten angry because of what you’d told him had happened with Ed, your boyfriend. His eyes had widened when you told him he’d left you waiting for an hour yesterday, because he ‘got distracted with his friends, and forgot to pick you up from your shift’. It was your anniversary.

But that wasn’t why Aemond had shouted to you that you didn’t understand- that came after. Earlier today, your phone had rang with his call: he had told you he was nearby, that his Ma had asked him to buy some bread before leaving for her shift, and if you minded if he stayed over a bit.

Spending time with him had become the highlight of your day recently, so a smile had curved your lips as you told him yes. He had arrived with a CD in his hands, “I know you like this shit.” he told you then, showing you the new album by Franz Ferdinand you had been planning to buy for weeks now.

You had gasped, and started covering his cheeks with kisses despite his half-hearted efforts to get away from your grip- half-hearted because his arm had already sneaked to hold your waist. “You’re mental.” you had told him with wide eyes, but he had just tutted and shrugged, leaving the CD on your desk and throwing himself on your bed.

“How did it go with the eejit?” he had asked you then, referring to Ed and your anniversary. His arm had been covering his eyes, but he took it away and looked at you when you hadn’t answered. “What did he do?” he had asked with a sigh.

You had briefly glanced at him before letting your gaze fall on the white and burgundy sheets of your bed. He wasn’t one who let go of this kind of things- not with you, at least- and you had known an answer was necessary if you weren’t planning on having him shut up and stare into your eyes for three hours.

So you had sighed heavily and brought your eyes back on his, “He didn’t show up.”

At your words, he had looked like he had stopped breathing. Then, he’d sunken his teeth into his lips, closed his eyes and let out a low and deep breath. “You’re aware he’s still breathing because you want him to?”

His eyes had opened again, and he’d directed them to you, waiting for your answer. When you’d nodded, he had continued: “Changed your mind?” he’d asked you, his tone slightly pleading, with a hint of hope. But you’d shaken your head.

You had seen his eyes closing again, and he’s let out another deep breath. “What did you do, then?”

“I walked.”

Silence had filled the air between you two once again, until he’d straightened up and sat on the edge of your bed. He had ran a hand on his face and settled his elbows on his knees, “You walked… Didn’t call me?”

“It’s just a ten minute walk.” you had tried to explain with a shake of your head, but he had stopped you.

“And now your throat aches.”

You had bitten the inside of your cheek at that. You were always cold, always wore two pairs of trousers to go to school, always had as many blankets as possible on your bed. Aemond knew, and each time you stepped foot into his house he had the kettle on, and the blanket that held the most warmth was folded and waiting on the couch, and he asked you right away if you wanted that ugly but incredibly warm sweater he never wore.

“It doesn’t.” you had told him, and it was true, because you were still healing from the last time you had the flue, and your antibodies were still strong.

“Mh.” he had said, nodding. You had never seen anger simmering quite as much as it did in him in that moment. “Why don’t you fucking leave him, mh? Still fuckin’ think he deserves you?” he had said, his voice rising at every word. “I’m genuinely curious, love- tell me.”

“Aemond…” you had said, interrupting yourself with a sigh. He had got up from the bed and walked over to the window, leaning his hands on the ledge. “I like him when he’s with me.”

“Well, that’s a fucking pathetic thing to say.” he had told you before turning around, his eyes as hard as ice, “That’s because you can’t find a bloody nice thing to say ‘bout him.”

“He’s still me boyfriend, though-“ you had tried to say before his shouts filled the room.

“And he shouldn’t fuckin’ be! It’s your fault he still is,” he had said, pointing a finger in your direction, “and it makes me fucking mental just thinking about it.”

“Then don’t, Aemond! It’s none of your fucking business!” you had tried to retort, but you had told it to yourself how daft your words had sounded, since it was Aemond the one always available to listen to you yap about how shite Ed made you feel while barely containing tears in your eyes.

“Shut up, don’t even fucking play this card with me!” he had yelled at you before taking a deep breath and pushing his black hair out of his face. That still hadn’t tamed the tone of his voice when he’d spoken again, “Don’t you fuckin’ understand?! Really?!” his eyes had been wide as he looked at you with a hint of desperation in hie voice, a hand held out to you in hope.

But your brows had furrowed, and your eyes had expressed nothing but confusion as you’d looked at him.

His hand had fallen and slapped his thigh, “Leave him, or don’t fucking talk to me again.”

He had walked away then, leaving you with wide eyes and the security that those words weren’t what he had been thinking about when he had told you that you didn’t understand.

And you admitted it to yourself as you walked to Aemond’s house at midnight, with the freezing cold of February seeping into your bones, that you might have waited a bit much to act on whatever you needed to act on.

But you did pat yourself on the shoulder for the strong punch you’d landed on Ed’s nose about an hour ago- which, in all honesty, was something you’d learnt from Aemond and the lessons he gave you so you could ‘have a wee chance to survive if they attacked you on the street’, if someone was to say it with his words.

After you had exited Ed’s house, a mischievous grin plastered on your lips, your thoughts had gone to Aemond right away, thinking about his laugh when you would have told him what you’d done. Your smile had fallen.

But it was fine, you told yourself as you walked faster in the dark night, because you were going to fix everything.

The truth was, you had never felt quite as empty as you did when Aemond had left your room that evening. And you had already known there that you needed to go to Ed’s and leave him- which you realised hurt your hand way more than it did your heart.

Aemond was right. Fucking Aemond Targaryen, the lad that wanted to talk to nobody at school except for you and Sal Quinn, the one that wanted no glimpse of a relationship, was right.

You needed to walk faster.

You took out your phone and flipped it open, pondering on whether or not to call him and ask him to pick you up on the street where Mae Allbrook lived. Realising that would have needed to stay still for at least three minutes as you waited for him, you flipped your phone closed and put it back into the pocket of your jeans.

You definitely didn’t do it because Aemond would have screamed at you for the entire ride back to his house- or better yet, for the ride and for the ten minutes he’d spend heating your hands up by rubbing them between his.

No, it was better to make your grand entrance at his house and have him freak out there, while you sat in front of the fire in his living room.

You let out a sigh when you saw the old, ruined red car, weakly lit by the nearby light pole. You almost ran to the door and jumped over the low gate, before taking out your phone again.

“Aemond,” you said when he answered. You heard the sigh he let out, and you understood how affected he, too, was about what had happened earlier that day. “I’m outside.”

He didn’t close the call after those words left your mouth, but you heard a stomp, and understood that he hadn’t even closed the call before launching himself off his bed and running downstairs.

The front door swung open in front of you, making your hair fly in front of your face. He didn’t wait for you to step inside, deciding instead to take matters into his own hands and grab your jacket to pull you in roughly.

Before you knew, he was muttering to himself behind you, his hands passing over your thighs over and over to heat them up. “You feel your hands yet?” he asked gruffly, not even trying to hide how he still remembered your last conversation word by word.

You nodded and said, “I’m not that cold.” but he tutted and shook his head, not believing a word. “Care to tell me the fuck you’re doing?” he finally asked.

“Apologising.” you answered after some seconds, slightly distracted by the way his wide palms transferred heat into the skin of your thighs. “You were right.”

You turned your head to look at him behind you, and he let out a sigh, stilling his movements and leaving his hands on the top of your legs. He threatened to move them to your hips, his movements slow and unsure, before his warm palms left your body and he got up on his feet, making you look at him from the floor, “I’m tired. Tell me if I have to bring you home or you crash here.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, getting up from the floor and grabbing your own arm with a hand. “Can I stay over?”

You saw the hesitation in his eyes as they met yours, but then he nodded towards the stairs, and you followed him to his room.

“Change.” he told you with an assertive tone once you reached his room, putting a hand in his wardrobe and throwing that ugly sweater and a pair of sweatpants at you.

You pressed your lips together to stifle a grin at his annoyed actions. But as you went to the bathroom to change, you couldn’t help but think about what his expression would be like when you finally told him.

His room was always quite dark and warm, and the dim light that came from the tank he kept Vhagar in made everything seem blue.

You approached him slowly, nibbling at the skin inside your lower lip as his eyes went from the ash tray set on his nightstand to you.

You could see the smoke of his Benson and Hedges coming out of his nose and going upwards. “Come here.” he said then, slightly defeated, but only half-heartedly.

So you climbed onto his bed and he reached out with a hand to touch your waist. “Still cold…” he muttered to himself before deciding to bring you closer to him.

He put off his cigarette on the ashtray and held you with his arms wrapped around you, a hand on the curve of your hip. “I’m sorry.” you told him, looking in his blue eyes you couldn’t quite see.

He didn’t say anything about your apology, but you felt his hand twitch on your hip. “What did you think you were doing, walking alone at this time?”

His features were lightened by those soft blue hues, making the sharp angles of his face even more so. You raised your hand and trailed your finger on his cheekbone. His skin was hot, and you felt him stop breathing at your touch. Your hand dropped back on the bed, “I left him.”

You started to worry when you didn’t see him starting to breathe again, but then he talked, “You’re not lying?”

When you shook your head in no, his hand tightened on your hip drastically. “Fuckin’ finally.” he said, letting out a deep breath. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shrug, “He just sat there, holding his nose after I punched him.”

You saw Aemond’s eyes widen, and the corners of his mouth curled up until they formed a wide grin. He started laughing, his chest shaking as he shook his head. “Wonderful woman…” he muttered, leaning his mouth on your shoulder, making goosebumps spread wildly on your skin.

He started caressing your hip then, going dangerously close to your arse as he always did. But still, what you felt was a deep sense of peace there: at his house, in his arms, surrounded by the smell of smoke and green tea that clung to his skin.

You’d known each other since you were kids, since way before he had started dying his hair black and got into the metal music he had definitely been listening to before you called him.

But you had never really talked until four months ago. You had your friends, he had his, all outside of school, and you both had never bothered trying to talk. It had all changed in a matter of days after an English Literature project.

It felt weird when you thought about it, trusting someone the way you did him after so few time, even if you’d known him for ever, because you’d never really talked.

“You know I love you, right?” you said then. It was out of the blue, really, but you couldn’t help it.

Those three words seemed to hit him more than you intended them to. He paused the movement of his hand on your hips and cleared his throat, straightening himself slightly. He still didn’t answer, though, but simply sighed and left a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t care about you saying it back: I just want you to know I love you.” you said hurriedly but calmly, distancing yourself slightly to look at him, finally able to do it properly since your eyes adjusted to the dark.

He let out a snorted laugh at your words, and shook his head. “D’you think I don’t love you?” he asked you, his voice low and husky. His grip on your hip tugged you close so you were sitting on top of him, “That’s not the problem, princess.”

“I don’t understand-“ you tried to argue, but he laughed again, interrupting you.

“You do, love… You do.” he said before leaning close to your ear. His nose brushed against your earlobe, his lips against your jaw as his breath ghosted your skin and he murmured lowly, “You got me wrapped around your finger... Got me doing whatever you want me to.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Your hand was gripping his shoulder and your nails were definitely digging in his skin through his sweater, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“And now…” he whispered , interrupting himself to let out an unironic laugh and shaking his head. “Now you’re sitting on my lap, pretending not to notice how fucking hard my cock is for you.”

You were breathing fast, so fast you felt the blood pumping in your ears, and his words did nothing to quell that. His smirk remained on his lips as he brought his cold blue eyes back to yours.

He tilted his head to the side, a strand of his dark, dyed hair falling over his eyes. “What do you plan on doing about it, then?” he asked, the teasing tone still present. But the way his eyes darkened, the way his grip on your hip tightened, told a different story.

Was it real what he’d said? That he loved you, craved you so much that his cock was rock hard after barely five minutes of you sitting on him?

“About…” you said, pressing your lips together, trying to gather the courage to complete the sentence. You found it when the corner of his mouth quirked up again and both his hands found their way to your arse, squeezing it and pulling you flush against him. The action made you let out a small sigh, but you decided not to let yourself fear him, so you raised a hand and brought the strand of black hair away from his face. “What do I plan on doing about your cock?” you said in a whisper.

His mouth curved into a smirk and he breathed out another laugh due to your words. He was usually the dirty one, even if you still didn’t exactly know how dirty he was. “Yeah, ‘bout that…” he confirmed with two slight nods of his head. “Now that you’re fully aware of what you do to me.” he added, letting out a deep breath.

One hand remained firm on your arse, keeping you right where he wanted you, while the other moved up to your face. He traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, feeling the softness of your skin and the pulse quickening beneath it. In that moment, all the cold you had felt as you had walked to his house for forty minutes was completely forgotten, disappeared in your mind like ash after a breath.

“What do you think I should do?” you asked, swallowing harshly. You suddenly felt stupid for the question, and you did even more when he snorted out another laugh.

He leaned forward, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Why don't ye use your imagination, Princess?" he whispered huskily. The hand on your face slid back, cupping your cheek as his thumb continued to brush against your lower lip.

“Okay…” you whispered out in a breath as you nodded. Then you slowly leaned into the brief distance that separated you two, brushing your lips against his before pressing them into a kiss.

It was rushed, definitely stupid, but you wanted to try and see how it felt. His lips had always looked rough to you, chipped and bloodied in winter, but now, against yours, they were soft, boiling hot, sweet and incredibly inviting.

His hand tightened its grip on your arse, pulling you even closer to his body as his other hand tangled itself in your hair, angling your head for better access to your mouth.

His kiss was even gentle, which surprised you, but more than anything it made you want more. When his grip on your hair tightened and pulled on it just enough to make you wet but not enough to hurt excessively, a moan came up your throat and overturned into his mouth.

He pulled away before capturing your lower lip between his teeth and letting it go. His hand slapped your arse, making you jolt forward and making him laugh. “Slut.” he muttered, closing the distance between you two again.

You let out a chuckle against his lips, and started grinding your hips against his. Right away, he groaned and pulled you closer still, eagerly helping you with your movements.

His other hand moved from your cheek to your neck, fingers gripping gently but firmly. "Is that what you want, princess?" he growled, breaking the kiss briefly to let you breathe. His eyes bore into yours, dark with lust. "You want to feel me inside you?" he asked, voice strained and husky.

You were slightly startled by his hand around your throat, by his thumb stroking your pulse point like it was the most fragile and precious thing in his world. You bit your lower lip and your hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand that was holding you, which made his lips part in what looked like feral hunger, before nodding.

Your response was everything he needed to hear. His hand on your neck tightened slightly as he claimed your mouth once more, kissing you harder. His hips thrust upward, pushing his erection against your core, as if to emphasize his words. He let go of your hair, his hand trailing down your back until it reached your waist.

His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, nipping at your skin before tracing a scorching path down to your neck. He loved the way you moaned when he bit you there, and he did so again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "Fuck…" he breathed against your skin, his fingers digging into your waist. He seemed to need to feel you, to make sure this whole thing was real. "Use your words, Princess."

A whine escaped your lips before you were able to reply, and you felt completely daft other then drenched between your thighs. “Yes,” you said, your words like a plea, “I want you inside of me.”

His eyes bore in yours for two seconds before he pushed you off him, making you land on your hands on the mattress. He pulled himself up, standing on his knees on the bed, “Take your clothes off.” he ordered with a nod of his head as he stared down at you, his tone leaving no space for arguing.

With a heavy chest, mouth parted and eyes wide, you complied. You unzipped his black jumper, trying not to be clumsy as you slipped it off your arms.

Still, Aemond seemed unable to wait, because he quickly threw the jumper off the bed before his fingers found the bow you tied to the string of his sweatpants.

He undid it as you took your shirt off. “How many fuckin’ pair of trousers you’ve got on?!” he growled, both bothered and amused when he found a pair of leggings under the sweats.

You let out a chuckle as he did the same, shaking his head as he pulled the first layer of fabric off roughly, before doing the same with the second.

He stopped when you were left with only your underwear, and he stared bluntly, pressing his lips together as his chest raised and fell heavily.

You moved your right leg to brush its calf against his clothed thigh, your eyes on his. His hissed in a breath, his hand gripping your thigh like he wanted to rip off the meat to eat it. “It’s your turn.” you whispered as you let your leg wander higher.

The action gained you his grip to tighten and a slap to be delivered to your thigh. But he complied, pulling his t-shirt off from the collar and blindly throwing it somewhere before pulling down his trousers.

He put a hand on your knee and settled between your thighs, crushing his mouth against yours once again. The roughness of Aemond's touch sent sparks flying across your skin, igniting a fire within you that burned out of control. He pressed you further into the mattress, his body aligning perfectly with yours. You could feel every inch of his bare torso, each ripple of muscle and scar, his heat enveloping you like a living flame.

His grip on your thigh loosened and his fingers went up until they reached you inner thigh, teasing you as if he wasn’t dying for it. You whined against his mouth, squirming under his touch.

He chuckled against your mouth, and he gave into your desires in a matter of seconds, sliding his hand inside your drenched knickers and exploring your folds. He breathed heavily on your wet lips after he had to break the kiss. He looked at you as he slipped a finger inside, and watched intently as your face contorted in pleasure.

“Think, Princess…” he drawled, his lips brushing against yours before doing the same on your cheek. He added another finger, making you let out a moan. “Think of each touch I give you tonight…”

He stopped his movements temporarily, taking his fingers out and making you gasp, to grab the sides of your knickers and pull them down and off roughly.

His mouth reached your neck while his fingers found your cunt once again, entering you in such a beautiful way your eyes rolled back. He started pumping his fingers in and out roughly, making your breath catch in your throat before it came out in a broken scream.

“Think of this, and then back at that fuckin’ halfwit that you let inside this beautiful cunt.”

Your wetness was completely coating his fingers at that point, and he seemed to enjoy it like nothing else, or so it seemed as you looked at him through half-closed eyelids.

He continued his assault, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing circular motions on it, as his lips left kisses, hot and wet, on the skin of your neck. They made you remember how his hand felt wrapped around your throat, and you found yourself craving it once again.

The memory and the sensations he was giving you only fuelled your wetness, and your orgasm drew closer. “Aemond…” you breathed out, your cunt clenching desperately around his fingers.

Just as if he was reading your mind, his lips left the soft skin of your neck to leave space for his free hand. You let out an embarrassing whimper when his fingers wrapped securely under your jaw.

“I think you’re liking it too much…” Aemond groaned, his voice husky and gravel as his fingers worked restlessly inside your pussy. “I should stop.”

Your hand found the wrist of the hand that was holding your neck when those words left his mouth, and you let out an irritated moan, kicking his side with a trembling leg.

He let out a small laugh, his pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared black. Aemond’s fingers went faster, making you let out a strangled yell as your eyes stayed fixed on his.

Your legs threatened to close, but he avoided it by getting closer, his breath now ghosting over your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” he groaned, crushing your lips against his as your pussy spasmed around his long fingers.

He kept them there after you climaxed, slowing the movements of his fingers progressively before sliding them out. He brought them to his lips like an instinctive motion.

He groaned at the sight of your flushed face, your eyes glazed with pleasure, and the way your body still trembled from the orgasm he'd given you, and definitely even for the taste of you he was licking from his fingers. You bet he loved reducing you to this state - wanting, needing, begging for him.

"Fuck," he breathed out, getting off the bed and taking off his boxers. His cock was hard, veiny, and you found yourself thinking of it inside you, stretching you out while you felt every singe thing he wished you to.

He opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom, opening the plastic with his teeth and discarding both the useless pieces carelessly on the floor. He slid it on, barely looking at what he was doing before he nodded at you, “Take that shit off.”

You furrowed your brows and looked down, noticing you still had your bra on. You were still breathing heavily, but you quickly did as he’d asked.

He moved back on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he approached you with hunger. He was like a madman- you had never seen him like this before.

He kissed you again, hooking his hand under your right knee and folding its leg over the other. It provided him with the perfect view of your ass and face, and it seemed to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as he broke the kiss to take a look at you.

One hand found the top of your thigh while he used the other to hold himself up on the mattress. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, making your hand fly to his hair and a gasp escape your throat.

His hand left your thigh and went to his cock, guiding it to your pussy. He teased your already tender flesh with his tip, making you both groan.

His mouth disclosed around your nipple and he lied his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck…” he breathed out once again, shaking his head before straightening up.

His hand went back to your thigh, and he ground himself against you. His head rolled back and his eyes closed at the contact, his mouth fell agape.

And you, with his cock almost inside you and his hand pinning your body to his will, couldn’t help but look at him: at the sweat that clung to his body, at his long hair you craved to pull, at his fingers that had just made you cum like nobody ever did.

When he opened his eyes again, they locked on yours right away, staring down at you. Then, he thrust inside you in one, swift and steady motion, filling you up with his cock just like you wanted him to. You weren’t cold any longer.

You didn’t try to conceal the scream if pure pleasure that escaped your lips at his motion, and he didn’t hide his. “Shit, Aemond!” you moaned, brows furrowed as you looked up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that…” he grunted, punctuating his phrase with a thrust, making your body jolt forward despite the way his hand was holding you tightly. “I’m already trying not to cum.”

His words made you cheeks heat up and a grin spread on your lips as he began to thrust inside you. Your head fell back onto the pillow, feeling every vein on his cock despite the latex separating you- maybe you were fooling yourself, but you were fine with it.

Aemond’s thrusts left you both breathless, and filled the room with the sound of skin meeting skin in perfectly rough motions.

Nothing had ever felt as good as the feeling of him inside you, and the way you squirmed and gasped beneath him made him understand that perfectly, other than making you feel like a pathetic whore.

His hand on your thigh was leaving red marks that had the shape of his fingers, and you loved it. “Please… Harder.” you found yourself begging, and he complied.

His hand left your thigh, gave your ass a firm slap before balling into a fist and pressing into the mattress to hold him up. His other hand reached your hair and grabbed a fistful, twisting it between his fingers before tugging on it sharply, making you yelp and arch your back.

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” he said with a wicked grin, pounding into your with more force than before. His hips collided against the skin of your ass he’d just slapped, making it even redder.

In response, your hand wrapped around his arm and your nails dug into the fair skin, making him grunt and pull even harder on your hair.

He fucked you harder as a form of punishment which he knew would only make things better for both of you. “Look at me, Princess.” Aemond breathed out the order, his chest heaving and his mouth open.

When you did, he let out an uncontrolled moan and gave you a particularly hard thrust, “Who owns you now, mh?”

The dirty talk, the rough treatment - it all fueled your desire, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. That’s why your lips curved into a grin.

But he wasn’t playing, because his fist opened and he slapped your ass again, “Answer.” he ordered. There, you understood it was all about pleading you to tell him, to reassure him, that Ed was gone from your mind, that he was the one inhabiting it.

“You do.”

At your words, and your burning eyes that accompanied them, Aemond grinned, turning you onto your stomach and pulling you ass up, all without exiting your tight heat.

He pushed your hips down until your chest pressed down on the soft comforter, and he started pounding again.

The change of position made your mind go blank, and your eyes almost saw white for how deep he reached.

He leaned in, still slamming into your with from behind like wild animal- his grin gone. “Who owns you, Princess?” he asked you again with the most guttural voice you’d ever heard coming from him.

“You!” you screamed with the few air and fewer focus the new position left you, as you felt your second orgasm approach like a storm above a deep sea.

“Good girl.” Aemond breathed out, his thrusts becoming erratic and his grip tightening as he let out a loud moan. His pace quickened, his breathing turned even more ragged, and you could feel him as he started losing control.

“Aemond!” you yelled, your voice slightly muffled by the pillow pressed against your cheek.

Hearing you scream his name, seeing the pleasure on your face, sent Aemond made him go even more mental than before: he pounded into you harder, faster, the bed rocking underneath the ferocity of his movements.

And your vision narrowed, your thoughts filled only with images of him and the feeling of his cock pounding restlessly inside you as your cunt clamped down around his cock, like you wanted him stretching you wider, breaking you even more.

The sensation of your second orgasm hitting you sent him over the edge, and with few powerful thrusts and a low growl, he came, filling the condom up to the brim.

Spent, he let himself fall on the bed, careful not to hurt you as he pulled out and wrapped his arms around your waist, making your back press against his chest.

He buried his face into your neck, breathing heavily. You bit your lip hard, trying to calm down and speak, “You were slightly better than Ed.”

You felt him let out a breathed laugh against your neck, but that didn’t save you from the slap he gave your ass. “Shut up.”

You jolted forward but chuckled. Then freed yourself from his embrace, making him frown and lock his eyes on you.

You scooted down, enjoying his confused expression and showing it with a grin, until you lied with your chest on his legs.

You pulled the used condom off his still-hard cock with a wicked gleam in your eyes. You revelled in the way his breath caught in his throat at your actions, and even more so when his mouth opened in pleasure as you started cleaning him off his cum with your tongue.

His hand went to your hair, holding the side of your face as you looked up at the desperate look for more in his eyes.

“Shit…” he breathed out raggedly. “You’re such a slut…”

You grinned, and started trailing kisses up his stomach and to his neck until you sat on top of him again. You cupped his cheek in your hand and kissed him, aware of how he could taste himself on your tongue.

His arms held you tight against his warm chest, his forehead against yours as you broke the kiss, and you couldn’t help but think about how many months you had thrown at the wind when you could have been in his bed, warm and…

“I love you.”

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puck-luck · 2 months ago

Note

Can I request 18 of diamonds with Quinn 🧎‍♀️

And congrats on 1k!! Your blog is one of my faves and I admit I check it after I’m done with work to read whatever you have to say/anything you’ve written/etc. 😁✨❤️

that makes me feel so cool! that you check my blog at the end of the day to see what's up! how cutie!! thank u bae <3

warnings: oral f!receiving

wc: 462

It’s the 14 days of Fuckmas. You and Quinn do this tradition every year. Each day that he is home, from December 1st to Christmas Eve, you have some form of sex. It’s not always the whole shebang, but you do something on each of these days. Quinn has been unable to eat you out since he played Tampa Bay on the 8th, but it’s been two weeks and he just finished playing Ottawa. He had a good game and the stitches have dissolved, finally, and he’s feeling good. His lip doesn’t hurt and the bubble is simply a precaution, but after Christmas, he’ll be back in his regular bucket.

He came home in a flurry today, dropping his stuff by the door and kicking off his shoes hurriedly. He’d practically tackled you in a hug, then picked you up and brought you to the bedroom. You’d laughed and asked what the hurry was, which is when Quinn revealed that he was finally cleared to eat you out again. His wording was strange, so you’d asked what he meant by ‘cleared,’ which is when he revealed that he had asked the team doctor specifically about when he could perform oral sex on you without affecting his injury. Apparently, it’s today, and you’re only slightly mortified that the Canucks’ doctor knows about your sex life when you don’t even know his name.

But, your concerns had dissolved when Quinn undressed you and made contact with your cunt.

Now you’re moaning and writhing against the bed and Quinn is curling his fingers inside of you while his lips tug on your clit.

He’s been whispering sweet nothings to you, pulling you to orgasm and taking time to let you come down. He’ll overstimulate you at times at draw gush after gush of cum from your body. Other times, he’ll pepper kisses along your inner thighs and suck hickies on the soft skin. Quinn is abusing the return of his lips.

When you try to turn the tides back on Quinn, and focus on him after he’s given you a couple of orgasms, he wraps his arms around your thighs and keeps you anchored to the bed.

“No,” Quinn said. You can’t decide what his voice sounds like– petulant, annoyed, insistent, or frustrated. “I’m making up for the time I lost.”

You melt back into the bed and accept it. “Quinn, won’t you get tired of this after a while?”

“No!” He says again, furrowing his eyebrows and looking up at you, affronted by the insinuation of your statement. “I could do this all day. Definitely all night. And I will!”

He dives back down and fixes his mouth on your cunt, looking up at you through his eyelashes like he has something to prove.

#puck-luck's 1k celebration #andy writes anything🍄#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #qh blurb #qh43 #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey smut

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pedroscowgirl · 6 months ago

Text

summer secrets

hugh jackman x female!reader

part 1 /part 2 here (you can read it seperatly) MASTERLIST

Warnings: smut!! minors dni!

oral! f receiving, p in v , creampie (wrap it up), edging, age gap (reader is 20s hugh is 55), lmk if i forgot something

Summary: you and hugh are at a bbq organised by ryan and blake

words: 8.1k (yeah ... i went insane idk what to tell you)

A/N: can u believe it took me so long to find a good pic for this cuz he looks so young in all his pics. i tried to proofread as good as i can but it's 5am here so bear w me pls

You were thrilled to receive an invitation to Ryan and Blake's barbecue, an intimate gathering they were hosting at their home. The guest list was small, limited to a close-knit group of friends, including Hugh and a few other familiar faces. As you read the invitation, a mix of emotions washed over you. On the one hand, you were excited to spend time with Ryan and Blake, who had always treated you with warmth and kindness. They saw you as a close friend and respected colleague of Hugh, and they had no idea about the secret that you and Hugh were carefully guarding.

Your relationship with Hugh had grown deeper over time, evolving from a casual friendship into something much more meaningful and intense. Despite the undeniable connection between the two of you, you had decided to keep your relationship private. The significant age gap between you and Hugh was something you knew others might not easily accept or understand. This was especially true in the circles you moved in, where appearances and reputations were scrutinized closely.

As the day of the barbecue approached, you couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. Being invited to this get-together felt strange because, on the surface, it was just a casual social event, but beneath it all, it carried the weight of your hidden relationship. You knew that keeping up the facade of being just friends in front of Ryan, Blake, and the others would be challenging, especially as you and Hugh had grown so close.

Still, you were determined to enjoy the day, focusing on the company of good friends and the relaxing atmosphere that Ryan and Blake were known for creating. You trusted that Hugh, ever composed and discreet, would help maintain the illusion of you just being friends. While it felt odd to be so near him yet unable to openly show your feelings, you reassured yourself that the secret was necessary, for now. After all, the bond you shared with Hugh was something precious, something worth protecting, even if it meant enduring a little discomfort at events like these.

The sun blazed overhead on what felt like one of the hottest days of summer, casting a golden glow over everything it touched. As you stood in front of your closet, you debated what to wear for Ryan and Blake’s barbecue. The air was thick with heat, making anything too heavy or restrictive out of the question. After a moment of consideration, you reached for a short, bodycon dress adorned with delicate floral patterns. The fabric was light and breathable, perfect for the weather, and the dress hugged your figure in all the right places, offering both comfort and a touch of elegance.

As you slipped into the dress, you couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Hugh’s reaction when he saw you. The dress, while chosen primarily for comfort, was also undeniably flattering, accentuating your curves and bringing out the vibrant colours of the floral design. You knew it would drive Hugh absolutely insane—his eyes would darken with that unmistakable mix of admiration and longing that always sent a thrill through you. But you were careful to keep this thought tucked away in the back of your mind. Today, you had to play it cool, keeping up the pretence of being just another guest at the barbecue.

You and Hugh had agreed to arrive at Ryan and Blake’s home separately, a necessary precaution to avoid drawing any unwanted attention to your relationship. Hugh had a closer bond with Ryan and Blake, having known them for years, and had offered to come early to help with the preparations. True to his nature, Hugh had slipped into the role of a perfect gentleman, lending a hand with the barbecue setup, arranging the seating, and making sure everything was in order before the other guests arrived.

By the time you arrived, the gathering was already in full swing. Laughter and the smell of grilling food filled the air, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere. You spotted Hugh across the yard, effortlessly charming everyone with his easy going nature and genuine smile. It was a scene you had witnessed countless times, yet it never failed to stir something deep within you.

Ryan and Blake’s kids were particularly fond of Hugh, and today was no exception. No sooner had you arrived than you noticed the children begging him to perform his famous routine from The Greatest Showman, a request he had apparently fulfilled countless times before. Without missing a beat, Hugh obliged, launching into his well-practiced performance with enthusiasm and flair. The kids gathered around the television, wide-eyed and mesmerized as Hugh sang and danced, bringing the movie to life once again.

It was a sight to behold, and you couldn’t help but feel a sting of affection as you watched him entertain the little ones for what must have been the hundredth time. The way he could effortlessly switch from being the life of the party to a beloved performer for the kids was one of the many things you admired about him. Yet, as you stood there in your floral dress, sipping on a cold drink and watching Hugh interact with everyone, you were acutely aware of the secret you were both hiding.

Throughout the afternoon, Hugh managed to steal subtle glances in your direction whenever he thought no one was looking. There were moments when his gaze would linger a little longer than necessary, a brief exchange of looks across the yard that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered. Occasionally, he would find a reason to drift closer to you, making casual conversation as if nothing were out of the ordinary. But despite these fleeting interactions, there was no opportunity for the two of you to be alone—not until everyone eventually settled at the long, wooden table set up in the shade for the meal.

As luck would have it, you ended up sitting next to Hugh. The air was thick with the mingled scents of grilled food, fresh flowers, and the tang of sunscreen, creating a heady atmosphere that only intensified the tension between the two of you. Your heart raced as you tried to focus on the casual conversations happening around the table, but all you could think about was how close he was, the warmth of his body just inches from yours.

At one point, Hugh leaned back in his chair, glancing around the table before he got up. "I need to grab something from the kitchen," he announced casually, but then he turned his gaze to you, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "Do you want to join me?" he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

You hesitated for only a fraction of a second before nodding. There was something in his eyes, a look that made it clear this was about more than just fetching something from the kitchen. As you followed him inside, your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation bubbling up as you wondered what was about to happen.

Once inside the cool, quiet kitchen, Hugh paused for a moment, glancing out the window to ensure no one was watching. Satisfied that you were alone, he turned to you with a sneaky look that made your breath catch. Before you could say a word, he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you close until your bodies were pressed together. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"Gosh, you look so gorgeous in that dress," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. His eyes roamed over your figure, taking in the way the floral fabric clung to your curves. "It's almost too cute to rip it off your beautiful body."

His words sent a wave of heat through you, and you felt a familiar dampness growing between your legs. Your cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and excitement as your body was responding to the raw intensity of his gaze and the sultry promise in his voice. Before you could even process the full extent of your arousal, Hugh closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was long and full of passion.

The kiss was everything you had been craving and more. His lips were firm and insistent against yours, moving with a hunger that matched your own. You melted into him, the world outside the kitchen fading away as your senses were overwhelmed by the taste of him, the scent of his cologne mingling with the heady aroma of summer. Hugh's big hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his shirt as if to anchor yourself in the moment. The kiss seemed to go on forever, a perfect blend of urgency and tenderness, leaving you breathless and longing for more. The sensation of his lips moving against yours, the way he held you so possessively, made it clear just how much he had been holding back all day.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Hugh pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. His eyes were dark with desire, the usual calmness replaced by something much more primal.

"You're driving me crazy, you know that?" he whispered, his voice rough and barely above a murmur. You could see the effort it took for him to restrain himself, to not let things go any further in the middle of Ryan and Blake’s house. But the intensity of the moment, the unspoken promise in his gaze, told you that this was far from over.

With a final, lingering kiss on your lips, he reluctantly stepped back, his hand sliding away from your waist. He glanced out the window once more, ensuring that your absence hadn’t been noticed before giving you a mischievous grin. "We should probably head back out before anyone gets suspicious," he said, though the lingering heat in his voice hinted at how difficult it was for him to let go of you.

You nodded, still trying to steady your racing heart and the fluttering feeling in your stomach. As you both made your way back to the table, it was impossible to ignore the tingling sensation left by his touch or the way your body still hummed with the aftermath of that kiss. The rest of the world had returned, but the memory of what had just transpired in the kitchen was seared into your mind.

As you and Hugh made your way back to the table, the atmosphere between you was thick with the electricity of what had just happened. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, and your mind raced with thoughts of what it all meant. The brief interlude in the kitchen had only heightened the tension between you two, making it even more challenging to act normal in front of everyone else.

Hugh, ever the master of composure, seemed to slip effortlessly back into the role of charming guest as you both rejoined the gathering. He held the door open for you with a polite smile, his fingers lightly brushing your lower back as you walked past him, a subtle but deliberate touch that sent another shiver down your spine. You returned to your seat, trying to focus on the conversations around you, but the awareness of Hugh’s presence next to you made it almost impossible to concentrate.

As everyone began to dig into their plates, you caught Hugh stealing another glance at you, this one quick and loaded with meaning. His eyes held a promise of more to come, a silent acknowledgment that what had happened in the kitchen was only a prelude. You knew that he was just as affected as you were, despite the cool, collected exterior he presented to the others.

Ryan, ever the attentive host, began recounting a funny story from a recent project, his animated gestures drawing the group’s attention. The table erupted in laughter, and for a moment, you found yourself caught up in the light-heartedness of the scene, the warmth of the summer day, and the companionship shared among friends. But the laughter also provided a perfect cover for the way Hugh subtly leaned closer to you under the disguise of reaching for something on the table.

A few minutes passed as you tried to engage in small talk, but Hugh was far from done with you. Under the table, where no one could see, his knee brushed against yours again, this time with more purpose. You felt the familiar jolt of electricity shoot through your body, and you had to bite your lip to keep your reaction in check. It was a simple touch, yet it carried all the weight of the unspoken desire simmering between you.

As the conversation around the table continued, you felt Hugh’s hand slowly make its way to your thigh, his fingers ghosting over your skin with deliberate slowness. The heat of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of your dress, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. Your breath hitched involuntarily as his hand inched higher, his fingertips tracing a path that left a trail of fire in their wake.

He leaned in closer, pretending to reach for something across the table, but his hand didn’t stop its upward journey. His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You glanced around nervously, but everyone was still engrossed in their own conversations, oblivious to the secret touches happening beneath the table.

Hugh’s hand slid further up, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as he reached the edge of your panties. You tried to maintain a steady expression, but when his fingers finally grazed your core, you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips. The fabric of your panties was already damp with arousal, and Hugh’s touch sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body.

He paused for a moment, just long enough for you to catch your breath, before he gently pressed his fingers against the soaked fabric. The pressure was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to make your hips involuntarily shift toward his hand, craving more.

Hugh’s breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, his tone a mix of amusement and desire. “I knew that dress would drive you crazy, but I didn’t realize just how much.”

His words, spoken so close to your ear that only you could hear them, sent a rush of blood to your cheeks. You felt the heat pooling between your legs intensify as he continued to tease you with the slightest pressure of his fingers, still hidden from view beneath the table. Your breathing grew shallow, and it took every ounce of willpower not to react too obviously, not to let on that anything out of the ordinary was happening.

Hugh’s fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles, rubbing against your core with just enough force to keep you on the edge of losing control. Your grip on the edge of the table tightened as you fought to maintain composure, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of his touch and the thrill of being so close to getting caught. Every nerve in your body was focused on the secret, sinful pleasure he was giving you, even as you struggled to keep up the pretence of casual conversation.

“Do you like this?” Hugh whispered, his voice low and filled with a dark, teasing edge. “I can feel how much you want it, how much you’re enjoying this.” His words were a wicked reminder of how exposed you were, how easily anyone could discover what he was doing to you, and that thought only heightened your arousal.

You swallowed hard, unable to form a coherent response, your mind fogged by the haze of desire. All you could manage was a slight nod, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as his fingers pressed harder against your aching core. The friction was maddeningly perfect, and you knew you were close to losing control entirely.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Hugh’s fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, finally touching your slick folds directly. The sensation was almost too much, and your entire body tensed in response. You bit down hard on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape when suddenly , Hugh abruptly withdrew his fingers, leaving you breathless and aching with need.

Your eyes flew open in surprise, and you turned to look at him, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you tried to understand why he had stopped. The ghost of a smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of his control over your body and the pleasure he had just denied you. You bit back a frustrated whimper, trying to regain your composure even as your body throbbed with unfulfilled desire.

At that exact moment, Blake appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray piled high with slices of her famous pies, topped with generous dollops of whipped cream. The children cheered in excitement as she set the tray down in the center of the table, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Hugh.

As everyone eagerly reached for the desserts, you struggled to focus on anything other than the way your body still hummed with the need for release. You watched, heart pounding, as Hugh casually leaned forward, his demeanour cool and composed as he joined the others in serving himself a slice of pie. But then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he dipped his finger into a small dollop of whipped cream that had spilled onto the table.

Your breath hitched as you watched in stunned silence, realizing exactly what he was about to do. With a deliberate slowness that seemed designed to drive you wild, Hugh brought his finger to his lips, the very finger that had just been inside you, coated with both your arousal and the sweet cream from the dessert.

His eyes met yours as he slipped the finger into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it to savour the taste. The look in his eyes was dark, almost predatory, as he held your gaze, a silent reminder of the power he held over you. The sight of him licking your juices mixed with the whipped cream off his finger sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and you had to press your thighs together under the table to keep from squirming.

The whole scene was over in a matter of seconds, but it felt like an eternity. No one else at the table seemed to notice the intimate, charged exchange happening between you two, too engrossed in their desserts and conversations. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Hugh, the knowledge that he had just tasted both the sweetness of the dessert and the evidence of your arousal making your pulse race.

Hugh finally withdrew his finger from his mouth with a satisfied hum, a wicked glint in his eyes as he reached for his fork to dig into his slice of pie. He was the picture of nonchalance, as if he hadn’t just left you trembling with desire under the table, your body aching for the release he had so cruelly withheld.

You attempted to collect your thoughts while reaching for your own dessert with hands that were slightly unsteady. But the taste of the pie was bland compared to the lingering heat in your body, the aching emptiness that only Hugh could fill. Every bite was a reminder of what had just happened, and what hadn’t, leaving you both frustrated and desperate for more.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere became even more relaxed, with guests gradually drifting away from the dinner table and settling into comfortable spots around the house. Some gathered in the living room, chatting softly over glasses of wine, while others lingered on the patio, enjoying the cool evening air. The kids were tucked away in a separate room, lost in their own world as they watched a movie, their laughter and shouts of excitement occasionally filtering through the house.

The shift in the evening’s tone provided the perfect cover for you and Hugh. The subtle touches and heated glances exchanged throughout the night had built up an almost unbearable tension between you two. With everyone now scattered and deeply engaged in their own conversations, the opportunity to slip away unnoticed was too tempting to resist.

You caught Hugh’s eye across the room, and the silent understanding passed between you. He gave you a slight nod, and your heart skipped a beat in anticipation. With a casual stretch and a smile, you excused yourself from the group you were chatting with, mentioning something about needing a moment to yourself. No one paid you much mind as you walked through the house, your footsteps quiet on the hardwood floors.

Your pulse quickened as you headed towards a guest room at the far end of the hallway, a room that you knew would be empty and offer the privacy you both craved. The house was quiet here, the distant hum of conversation from the other rooms fading into the background as you reached for the door. You slipped inside, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves as you waited, the door clicking softly shut behind you.

The look in his eyes was intense, filled with the same desire that had been simmering between you all evening. Without a word, he crossed the room, his hands reaching for you the moment he was close enough.

In an instant, his lips were on yours, the kiss filled with all the passion and longing that had been building up between you. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you tightly against him as the kiss deepened, his body pressing into yours with a need that matched your own. The world outside that room ceased to exist. All that mattered was the feel of his lips, the heat of his body, and the way his hands roamed over your curves as if he couldn’t get enough.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” Hugh murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. “That dress... the way you looked at me... I’ve been counting the minutes until I could get you alone.”

You gasped as his hands slid down to your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress as he pressed his body even closer to yours. The heat between you was undeniable, the electricity in the air almost tangible as his touch sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved with purpose, sliding up your thighs, brushing against your hips, and finally slipping beneath your panties.

His fingers found you easily, the wetness there a clear sign of how much you had wanted this. You couldn’t stifle the small moan that escaped your lips as he teased you, his touch light and maddeningly slow. The sensation was almost too much, and you gripped his shoulders for support, your body trembling with the intensity of your need.

“Still so wet,” Hugh’s voice dropped to a husky whisper as he leaned in, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of your ear. His words sent a shiver down your spine, the promise they held making your pulse race. “I knew you’d be thinking about what we started.”

His fingers moved with a practiced skill, tracing delicate patterns that left your skin tingling with anticipation. The intensity of his touch heightened every sensation, your breath catching as he expertly drew you closer and closer to that sweet edge. Your heart pounded, and your body responded eagerly, arching into his touch, desperate for more.

But just as you felt the brink of release approaching, Hugh’s hand stilled again. He pulled away with infuriating calm, leaving you breathless and aching once more . A tear fell from your eye and a low moan of protest escaped your lips as the tension in your body remained agonizingly unfulfilled.

“Not yet,” he murmured, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. The sound was thick with amusement and control, a clear indication that he was enjoying the power he held over your pleasure. His voice, smooth and taunting, sent another wave of heat coursing through you, only adding to the frustration and longing he had expertly built up within you.

Before you could even begin to voice your protest, Hugh stepped back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, watching every flicker of emotion that played across your face. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming—a dark hunger that matched the desire burning inside you. His eyes glittered with a primal need, yet there was a patience there, a determination to savour every moment, to make you wait until he decided it was time.

He leaned in once more, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss that stole your breath away. His lips were insistent, claiming you with a passion that made your knees weak. The kiss deepened, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance that left you dizzy with want. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of your body, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance between you.

As he guided you towards the bed in the center of the room, everything else faded into the background. The distant murmur of the party, the music, and laughter were nothing but a muffled hum, a world away from the intoxicating bubble that had enveloped the two of you. It was as if time itself had slowed, every touch and every whispered word heightening your senses, making you crave him more with each passing second.

With a growl that reverberated deep in his chest, Hugh grabbed you, his hands firm as he effortlessly lifted you off the ground. His strength took your breath away, his movements rough yet controlled as he set you down on the edge of the dresser in the guest room. The force of it made something on the dresser topple over, the sharp sound of breaking glass cutting through the air as the vase shattered on the floor. But neither of you cared, too lost in the heat of the moment to spare even a glance at the mess you’d made.

“I’ll find an excuse for that,” Hugh murmured against your mouth, his voice rough with desire as he cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your lips. The proximity of his body, the scent of him, sent your mind spiraling into a haze of lust. As his hands moved down to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh, you could feel the tension in his body, the barely restrained hunger that radiated off him in waves.

“Fuck, that dress is really too cute to rip off of you,” he muttered, his voice thick with both frustration and admiration. His eyes roved over your body, taking in every inch of you as you sat perched on the edge of the dresser, legs spread just enough to hint at what lay beneath the fabric of your dress. “And I can’t let you go out naked after this,” he added with a dark chuckle, his gaze flicking back up to meet yours, filled with a mix of amusement and raw desire.

You bit your lip, a shiver running through you at the way his words and his touch made your heart race. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the air around you crackling with the electricity of what was about to happen. Your fingers gripped the edge of the dresser, bracing yourself for whatever he had planned next.

Without warning, Hugh’s hands left your thighs, and he dropped to his knees before you. The sudden movement made your breath hitch, and before you could process what was happening, his hands were on you again, this time sliding up your legs, pushing your dress up higher and higher until it bunched around your waist. He took off your panties and the cool air of the room hit your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Hugh’s breath against your core.

He didn’t waste a second. As if he were a man starved, Hugh leaned in and latched onto you with a fervour that left you gasping. His tongue worked against you in long, deliberate strokes, his lips sealing around your most sensitive spot as he devoured you with a hunger that was both primal and relentless. Every movement of his mouth sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, your head falling back as your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, gripping tight as you moaned his name.

Everything felt so right in that moment. It was just you and Hugh, the dresser beneath you, and the growing tension in your belly as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Your legs trembled around him, your body shaking on the brink of release as the intensity of his actions overwhelmed your senses. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, when you were right on the cusp of falling apart, Hugh’s mouth left your core, and in its place, you felt the sudden intrusion of his fingers.

Three of them, thick and skilled, plunged into you without warning, stretching you in a way that made you cry out, your back arching as your grip on the dresser tightened. The combination of his mouth and his fingers, the way he filled you and sucked on your clit, sent you spiralling into a release so intense it felt like your body was shattering into a million pieces. “Fuck!” you screamed, your voice echoing in the small room as you came hard, the pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave.

Hugh didn’t let up, his mouth flew to you again, working you through your orgasm, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you until you were left trembling and breathless, slumped against the dresser as your body came down from the high. When he finally pulled back, your thighs were shaking, your skin flushed with the aftermath of your release.

He stood up, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “You’re not so quiet now, are you, baby girl?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, the words sending another shiver down your spine. His face was still flushed, his hair tousled from where your fingers had gripped it, and his lips glistened with evidence of what he’d just done to you.

Your eyes, still wide with the aftershocks of pleasure, slowly travelled down his body, taking in the sight of him standing before you. When your gaze reached his pants, you noticed the way they strained against his obvious arousal, the fabric pulled tight over the hardness that pressed against it. The sight of it made your pulse quicken again, desire flaring back to life even as you struggled to catch your breath.

Hugh followed your gaze, a dark chuckle escaping him as he watched you take in the evidence of his need. “Seems like we’re just getting started,” he murmured, his voice thick with promise as he reached down to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops making your heart skip a beat.

Hugh's belt came undone with a swift motion, the clink of the buckle loud in the quiet room, a stark contrast to the sounds of the party that were now a distant hum beyond the closed door. His eyes were locked on yours, dark with a need that mirrored the heat still simmering inside you. With each second that passed, the tension in the room grew, thick and palpable, as he slowly slid the belt from his pants, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud.

The way he looked at you made your breath hitch, anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach. He took his time, every movement deliberate, as if he was savouring the moment, drawing out the anticipation until it was almost unbearable. His fingers worked at the button of his pants, the sound of the zipper being pulled down sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

Your heart raced as you watched him, your body still tingling from the aftershocks of your recent orgasm, but already, the fire within you was reigniting, fuelled by the sight of him standing before you, his desire for you barely contained. When he finally pushed his pants down, freeing himself from the confines of the fabric, your breath caught in your throat.

He was so hard, his length thick and pulsing with need, the sight of it making your mouth water and your core clench with anticipation. You bit your lip, the desire to feel him inside you, to be filled by him, overwhelming. But Hugh wasn’t in a hurry. He stood there for a moment, letting you take him in, the smirk on his lips growing as he saw the effect he had on you.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice dripping with confidence, yet there was a teasing edge to it, as if he already knew the answer.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Yes,” you breathed, the word coming out more like a whimper, your body aching with the need to feel him against you, inside you.

You smirked to yourself as you slid off the dresser, your legs still shaky from the intensity of your climax. But there was still an edge of desire lingering, a hunger that hadn’t been fully sated. As you landed on your feet, you felt Hugh’s eyes on you, heavy with anticipation, wondering what you were planning next.

As you turned around, you reached down, gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it back up over your waist, exposing your bare ass to him. You could hear his breath hitch as you bent slightly, pushing your hips back, your wet cunt brushing against his still-hard cock. The sensation of his length pressing against you sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but moan softly, rocking your hips to increase the friction.

Hugh’s hands quickly found your hips again, his fingers gripping you firmly as he groaned, the sound deep and filled with renewed desire. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back, his self-control slipping with every second you teased him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he let one hand slide down to cup your ass, squeezing it before trailing his fingers teasingly over your slick folds. The gentle touch was almost maddening, your body aching for more, for him to fill you again.

But just as you began to push back harder, desperate for him to take you, Hugh’s fingers stilled on your pussy. His other hand moved to your lower back, pressing you gently forward, making you arch your back even more, exposing yourself fully to him.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as he whispered, “Hmm, no, baby. Turn around. I wanna see your pretty face when I fuck you.”

The command in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your heart racing as you straightened up and turned to face him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire as he watched you with a gaze that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

You bit your lip, your body already responding to his words as you reached for him, your hands sliding up his chest before wrapping around his neck. Hugh’s hands found your waist again, pulling you flush against him, his cock brushing against your inner thigh, sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was hungry and possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth as his hands roamed over your body. The kiss deepened, becoming more intense, and when he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, his breathing heavy as he looked down at you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with a softness that made your heart flutter.

Hugh picked you up again and as he set you down on the soft sheets, you felt the cool fabric against your back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin. Hugh stood at the edge of the bed, his naked body on full display, the sight of him making your breath catch in your throat. His cock was still hard, throbbing with need, and the desire in his gaze was almost palpable as he looked down at you.

Your dress, still bunched around your waist, clung to you in a way that accentuated every curve. One of the thin straps had slipped off your shoulder, exposing one breast, the soft fabric clinging to the other as your chest heaved with each breath. Hugh’s eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight, his gaze lingering on the way your nipple hardened under his scrutiny.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and you couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation as he ran his hands up your thighs, spreading them wide.

Hugh leaned in, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, down to your exposed breast. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You arched your back, a soft moan escaping your lips as you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

His hands continued to roam over your body, one sliding up to cup your other breast, still covered by your dress, while the other slipped between your thighs, his fingers teasing your entrance, already slick and ready for him. He groaned against your skin, the sound vibrating through your chest as he felt how wet you were, his cock twitching in response.

“Hugh,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper as you rocked your hips up, desperate to feel him inside you again.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours. “I want to take my time with you. Remember?”

But the need between you was too intense, too overwhelming, for either of you to wait any longer. With a growl of barely restrained desire, Hugh positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds. He looked into your eyes, his expression filled with raw hunger, and then he thrust into you in one smooth, powerful motion.

You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he filled you completely, the sensation of him stretching you almost too much, yet exactly what you craved. Hugh groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, each thrust deep and deliberate, the rhythm slow at first, as if he was savouring the feeling of being inside you.

One of your hands slid down his back, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him on, needing more, needing him to go faster, harder. “Please, Hugh,” you moaned, your voice trembling with the intensity of the pleasure building inside you.

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a low growl, he picked up the pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that made the bed shake beneath you. Each thrust drove him deeper inside you, the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall, but the sound was drowned out by the moans , gasps and sweet words that filled the room. “Gosh you are literally made for me” Hugh groaned as he threw his head back in pleasure.

One of the straps of your dress slipped further down your arm, fully exposing your other breast. Hugh’s eyes flickered with something dark and primal as he watched you writhe beneath him, your body completely at his mercy, the sight of your exposed chest only fuelling his desire.

“You look so fucking perfect like this,” he groaned, his voice rough and breathless as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts.

You kissed him back with equal fervour, your hands roaming over his body, feeling the muscles in his back tense with each powerful movement. The friction between your bodies, the way he filled you so completely, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Hugh,” you gasped against his mouth, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure building inside you. “I’m so close.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. “I want to see you come for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he angled his hips slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust.

That was all it took. With a cry of his name, you tumbled over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. Your body tightened around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

Hugh groaned, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release, the feeling of you tightening around him pushing him closer and closer. With one final, powerful thrust, he came, his body tensing as he spilled inside you, a low growl escaping his lips as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, his body pressed against yours, both of you breathing hard as you came down from the high. Hugh’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he slowly regained his composure.

When he finally pulled back, he looked down at you with a satisfied smirk, his eyes still dark with the remnants of desire. The strap of your dress was still hanging off your shoulder, your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, and the sight made his smirk widen.

“You’re absolutely stunning,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips, his hands brushing over your skin as if committing every inch of you to memory.

You smiled up at him, your body still trembling slightly from the intensity of what had just happened. “So are you,” you whispered back, your voice laced with exhaustion but also with deep satisfaction.

Hugh chuckled softly, his hands sliding up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. “We should do this more often,” he teased, his lips quirking up into a playful grin.

You laughed softly, the sound light and filled with contentment. “I wouldn’t mind that, it’s very thrilling” you admitted, leaning in to press another soft kiss to his lips.

As you and Hugh made your way back down the hallway, the sounds of the party grew louder, a stark contrast to the intimate moments you had just shared. Your pulse was still racing, your skin tingling from where his hands had been. Despite the flush in your cheeks, you couldn't help but tease him, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Do you think they would’ve noticed that we were gone?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with amusement as you looked up at him. Hugh smirked, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back, guiding you with a confidence that made your heart skip a beat.

“We did spend a long time in there,” he replied, his tone rich with a knowing edge that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. The memory of his hands on your body, the way he had claimed you with such fervour, was still vivid in your mind, and you bit your lip to keep a satisfied smile from spreading across your face.

As you reached the door leading back to the main living area, you paused for just a moment, your hand resting on the doorknob. The noise from the party, laughter, music, the clinking of glasses,reminded you that you'd have to face everyone again. You took a deep breath, hoping your slightly dishevelled appearance wouldn’t give away the passionate encounter you’d just shared.

When you finally opened the door and stepped back into the room, your eyes immediately met Blake’s across the crowded space. Her eyes were sharp, and a slight, knowing smirk played on her lips as she took in the sight of you and Hugh rejoining the group. Blake, ever perceptive, clearly had an idea of what had kept the two of you away for so long. The way her gaze lingered on you sent a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, busying yourself by smoothing down your dress.

Hugh’s hand gave your back a reassuring squeeze before he reluctantly stepped away, moving across the room to join Ryan, who was standing near the bar. You could feel Blake’s gaze still on you, her expression amused but understanding, almost as if she was silently saying, I won’t tell a soul, but I know.

You tried to shake off the feeling of being watched and focused on Hugh, who had reached Ryan and was immediately greeted with a hearty slap on the back.

“There he is!” Ryan exclaimed with a grin, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Where’d you disappear to, mate? We were starting to think you both got lost.” he said in his best Australian accent.

Hugh laughed, his expression easy and confident despite the tension you could see in his eyes. “Just needed a bit of fresh air,” he said smoothly, but the slight curve of his lips hinted at more. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, though there was a flicker of something else behind his smile.

Ryan wasn’t buying it, though. He narrowed his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he took a sip of his drink. But then his gaze shifted slightly, landing on you, and his eyes narrowed in on something at your neck.

“Hold on,” Ryan said, his voice laced with amusement as he set his glass down with a soft clink. His eyes locked onto the side of your neck, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “Be honest, Hugh, did you do that, you beast?”

Confused, you instinctively reached up to touch your neck. The moment your fingers brushed over the tender spot, your heart sank. You remembered how Hugh’s mouth had lingered there, how he’d sucked on your skin until you moaned. The realization that he’d left a mark—a very visible hickey—made your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Hugh’s eyes widened slightly as he realized what Ryan was talking about, and for a split second, you saw the nervousness in his eyes. But then he let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at you with a guilty smile. “Uh… yeah, I might have gotten a little carried away,” he admitted, his tone both apologetic and playful.

Ryan burst out laughing, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You’ve got some nerve, man,” he teased, clapping Hugh on the shoulder. “Next time, try not to leave evidence.”

Your face was on fire, and you quickly looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment. But Hugh, ever the charmer, quickly changed the subject, leaning in to say something to Ryan that made him chuckle and shift his attention away from you. But even as the two of them continued their banter, you couldn’t shake the awareness of the hickey on your neck, a physical reminder of the heated passion you and Hugh had shared just moments before.

The party continued on as if nothing had happened, with everyone else seemingly oblivious to the charged undercurrent between you and Hugh. But with every glance, every casual brush of his hand against yours, it was impossible to ignore the unspoken connection that lingered between you. The memory of what had just transpired was still fresh, the desire far from sated

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell @rockytheluver @stark-ironman

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #wolverine #wolverine smut #marvel smut #wolverine and deadpool #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #marvel

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everythingspokenfor · 28 days ago

Text

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

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You knew this was a possibility, that's why you took extra precautions, tied the strings so well that you were sure you'll have to cut them at the end of the day. But here you were, contemplating how on earth did this happen...

Mina had finally pulled the entire group into going on a vacation, choosing one of the Okinawa beaches, all of you packed up and came to the private penthouse. The vacation was long overdue, everyone too excited to chill out and relax.

It was all good, friends chilling out eating, drinking and finally relaxing after months of tedious hero work.

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, even if you had to deal with him. Bakugou and you had a sort of love hate relationship, constantly fighting but still having each other's back. Friends constantly commenting about the thick sexual tension between you both, which left you yelling at them, they weren't wrong tho, not that you would admit outloud.

"Move, Sugar." Bakugou rasps out, hand holding a can of beer, he was shirtless, wet swim trunks sticking to him thighs, tan lines clearly visible on his legs, he was still glossy from playing in the water. Had you hated him any lesser, you would have licked the water off him, alas that thought is something to be revisited in darker hours of the night.

"Go around the towel, dipshit", You retort, going back to lathering yourself up with sunscreen, he snorts, before stepping on your fucking towel and going along.

"Asshole!" You yell at him, whole he continues to laugh at your face. You took in deep breaths, this fucker isn't going to ruin your vacation.

You got back to your sunscreen, before reapplying you lip gloss, you put too much effort into your appearance today. It was a deep maroon two piece, the bottoms had a fabric around it making it seem like a mini skirt, while the top was tied with strings.

As much as you loved the bikini, the top was making you nervous, you had taken every measure to prevent the strings from untying, even kept a spear towel, having heard too many stories of women losing their bikinis in the sea making you paranoid. It was probably also why you hadn't ventured into the ocean yet.

"Gurll- you lookin' cute there." Mina walked up to you, handing you a bright blue concoction, you grinned at her before downing the drink.

"Thanks, babes." You giggled, cheekily winking at her.

"What aren't you getting into waters tho? The weather is pleasant too." She queried, leaning in to steal your gloss. "I am gonna go, just applied sunscreen." You dusted your hands, as you stood up, Mina finished putting on the gloss, tossing the tube in your bag before both of you raced into the waters.

The boys, Kaminari, Kirishima and Sero welcomed you both in with splashes, playing around in waters lasted for a bit, after multiple rounds of chicken fight, Kirishima called Bakugou, asking him to join in.

"Ain't interested in yer shitty games." He yelled back, didn't bother looking at the group.

"Scared you'll lose," Sero provoked him, knowing that with right words he can get Bakugou to do anything.

"Fuck did ya' say?" He grits out, before standing up and charge towards your group, all of you scream before swimming in different directions, trying to not be his first victim.

Adrenaline pumped through your vessels, as you swam to furthest end of the shore, leaning against the big rocks keeping you hidden from the main shore. Breathing hard, you placed a hand on your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Only to come to a horrible realisation that you weren't wearing your bikini top.

You were bare from waist above, frantically you tried looking for you top, hoping to find a maroon cloth lying somewhere, unfortunately you couldn't see anything that could vaguely resemble your bikini.

Panic set in when you realised that from this end of the shore, you can't even go to your spot on the beach, chance of grabbing your towel without being seen by your friends were too thin.

"Caught you!" Bakugou roars as he swims around the rocks, only to be stopped as you let out a yell, turning away from him.

"Stay there, Bakugou!" You barely even stay afloat, hairs shielding your back, while hands crossing over your chest.

"What? You suddenly don't want to play, when I catch you?" He rasps out, slightly curious as to why you wouldn't even turn to face him.

"It's not that." You let out a sigh, contemplating whether it's a good idea or not to ask Bakugou for help, he could potentially swin back and get you a towel.

"What is it then, Sugars?" He is much closer now, you can almost feel him behind you. "My top is lost." You whined out, praying he helps you.

"Sorry, what?!"

"My bikini top is lost, it untied while swimming." You whisper-yell at him, giving him a stink eye over your shoulder. He doesn't reply, instead it goes too quite, you slowly peek over your shoulder, only to lock eyes at Bakugou who is already looking at you.

Infact he was looking slightly below, as if checking whether or not you had the top. "Fucking pervert, I'll beat your ass!" Had your hands not been busy you would have whacked him.

"I am not a fucking pervert, I was thinking."

"Had you thought longer, you would have popped a boner."

"You want my help or not."

You went silent at that, of course you needed his help, especially if you didn't want to flash your friends.

"That's what I thought." He speaks at your silence, his voice a little too smug, "you got spear clothes here?" He queried, swimming back a little to look at your bag by the beach.

"I have a towel in there, it's big enough for me." You answer him over your shoulder, he wasn't looking at you anymore instead he was turned away mostly, head slightly tilted so he could hear you.

"Stay put, I'll get it," he almost start swimming before he turns towards you and says "Try not loosing the bottoms, in the meantime." And off he goes.

You knew just from that comment, he isn't going to let you live it down, you are sure he'll probably end up changing your name to some stupid shit constantly reminding you of today, but at least he is helping.

Everybody had already gone inside, letting Bakugou get you, when he reached where your towel had been laid out, he looked for your bag, not wanting to snoop too much, he got to work, quickly looking into the back to realise that there wasn't any towels in it. For a moment he wondered whether he should gather up your sand towel but decided against it.

He quickly jogged over to his spot at the beach, and grabbed the t-shirt he was wearing earlier, getting back into the ocean, he swam towards the rocks where you were hidden.

"Oi! There wasn't any towels, got you a t-shirt tho." He stretches an arm towards you, wet t-shirt in his fist.

"I had one, tho." You look at him in confusion, submerged neck deep into the ocean, hands crossed tightly. You were facing him slightly, eyes looking that clothe, you unwrapped one arm, from around yourself and reached for it, Bakugou averted his gaze, further stretching out his hand so you could reach it.

He moved a little closer, eyes still looking away, arms spread to make sure nobody can see you, even if it a private area of the beach.

You put the shirt on, feeling a little less exposed, turning around to fully face Bakugou, "Thank you, I suppose." You sheepishly scratch the back of your head, assuming the interaction is over and you'll both head back in.

"First of all☝🏻'you suppose?' and secondly you owe me more than a thank you."

He spits out, crossing his arms, and jutting out his hips. You eyes immediately drifted to his tits pecs that had become extenuated, before immediately locking eyes with his.

"Fucking pervert," He mimicked your earlier words.

"I am not! What do you want, Bakugou?" You exasperated, sighing dramatically, crossing your arms as well.

He moved towards you, arms unfolding to sway by his side, "Be nice, Sugar."

You scoff, eyes squinting at him suspiciously, more than aware of how close he was to you. He leans in clear, backing you against the rocks, leaning towards one side, leaving ample space for you to move away from him if you wanted.

He was close enough you could feel his minty breath onto your face, he locked eyes with you before leaning in, instinctively you closed your eyes, head tilting as your hands came to rest on his chest.

The kiss was taking a bit too long, peeking with one eye, you realised Bakugou was staring at you with a grin on his face.

"You asshole!!" You yelled at him, pushing at his chest, trying to move away from him, he was cackling, hands still grasping at your wrists, not letting you move away from him.

"Sorry, sorry." He wheezed out, pulling you towards him,"Oi, I am sorry, listen Sugars."

You didn't care tho, too tired to be dealing with his shenanigans, he was determined tho, pulled at your wrists, turning to glare at him, you were surprised by feeling of his lips against yours.

You stood there limp, Bakugou taking the lead for you, one arm around your waist other tilting your head to the side, deepening the kiss. You slowly brought you hands around his neck, fingers coming to run through his blonde hairs.

You pull away breaths heavy, he continues kissing down your jaw, leaving behind love bites for you to later press into.

He comes back up, pressing his forehead against yours, "So, how 'bout I take you out, Sugars?"

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katelynnwrites · 2 months ago

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Here’s To Hoping You’re Worth All My Time (I Hope You’re Worth My Time) | Lea Schüller

warnings: some swear words, description of migraines in detail

word count: 4451

summary: five months after you and lea break up, you’re convinced you’ll never cross paths with her again. life has a funny way of bringing people back together though.

a/n: realised that if i want to read schülli fics, i have to write them so here we are 😊

The headache started somewhere in the middle of your third class.

Rather gingerly, you rub your temples and try to ignore the pulsing pain. Despite your best efforts, the pain continues to grow till it’s clear that you are going to have one of your full blown migraines.

You get migraines every so often but with have gotten better at managing them over the years. The combination of cutting out caffeine, medication and getting enough sleep have worked so that the truly bad ones, the kind that keeps you incapacitated for hours have become few and far between.

One hasn’t happened for a while and you suppose, with a wince that you were inevitably due for one.

Now that it’s happening though, it is all you can do to text your classmate and tell her you won’t be able to make the rest of your classes.

The bright glare of your phone screen makes your head ache more fiercely. With squinted eyes and more than some difficulty that you read her reply in which she hopes you feel better soon and that she will convey your apologies to the professors.

That being done, you try and fail to focus back on your current class. By the end of it, you are desperate to go home and just lie down with all the lights off.

Normally you would take the bus but today even the thought of it is too much. A ride sharing service would be the quickest way back to your apartment.

The ride itself passes in a blur, nausea has begun to affect you and you spend the twenty minutes back to your apartment concentrating on trying not to throw up.

When the driver drops you off at your apartment, you stutter out a quick thank you before you run up the stairs, taking it two at a time to get to your bathroom.

Just in time too because you gag uncontrollably, whatever is left of your breakfast coming up unpleasantly.

You stay beside the toilet, coughing until your stomach somewhat uneasily settles.

With watering eyes, you stand up shakily to rinse your mouth and then reach for the bottle of Eletriptan that usually sits on the shelf above your sink.

Except that your hand closes around nothing. Your migraine medication isn’t there.

You stare at the empty space uncomprehendingly until it hits you.

It’s at the place where you babysit. Sometimes the parents would pay you extra to stay overnight with their kids when they had late night work functions. Last week you’d stayed over and brought your medication over as a precaution.

The family is nice and you know they would have no problem bringing over your Eletriptan if you asked. The problem is that they are currently on vacation in France.

You can actually picture where you left your bottle of medication. On the counter of their guest bedroom.

Blinking back tears of frustration and pain, you bite your lip. You hadn’t gone through a migraine without medication in years. Especially not one as severe as this.

‘Fuck.’ You say out loud.

‘Fuck.’ You repeat and then do the only thing you can do.

Going into the kitchen, you get a glass of water and take it into your bedroom.

Thankfully, the blinds are already closed so you don’t have to deal with the bright sunlight making your head hurt more than it currently is.

You manage two sips of water and then toe off your shoes, collapsing into bed.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you exhale and inhale, slowly counting to a hundred and then eventually to five hundred.

Everything is okay, you attempt to convince yourself as you start counting from one again.

You ignore the fact that even with your pills, your migraine usually takes an hour to subside. There’s no telling how long it will go on without the medicine.

Another deep breath in and out. Over and over again.

Somewhere in between, you briefly entertain the notion of going to a pharmacy and getting some over the counter migraine medicine instead. But none of that stuff has ever worked for you and even if you are distressed enough to try, you know you are in no condition to leave the house.

At the very least, the fierce ache in your head has not gotten worse. It isn’t better either though. It still feels like someone is stabbing you right between your eyes and god it hurts.

It’s nothing short of excruciating but there is nothing you can do except to keep your eyes closed, remind yourself to keep breathing through the pain and hope for the best.

Then you remember.

You have another bottle of Eletriptan. The one you left at Lea’s place.

Against your will, salty tears slip down your cheeks. Fucking hell.

It’s not as if you can get to it. You’re not able to go over and beg. Even if you are willing to go to that length, your pride would never allow it.

Lea had told you to get out. So you did. The end.

Besides, your ex is probably away for international break or an away game of sorts. The chances are high that she isn’t even in Munich right now.

That’s what you tell yourself as another agonising hour crawls by.

It’s been three hours since you first got back and you don’t know if you can take much more. A particularly harsh throb hits and that makes your decision for you.

With a weak sob, you cave and reach for your phone.

The brightness level is on the lowest setting but the sudden glare still has you scrunching your face in discomfort.

Finding Lea’s contact is as much as you hate it, easy. For some unknown reason, you hadn’t yet been able to bring yourself to delete it.

Tapping on it before you can second guess yourself, you put the call on speaker.

It rings and rings. To the point where you think she won’t answer.

Right when you are ready to admit defeat, a voice comes through, ‘Hello?’

‘Lea?’ You whisper.

‘No sorry, this is Obi. Lea’s not here right now. Can I take a message?’

You hesitate. You remember Obi, Lea’s brunette best friend. She’d been nice to you back when you were dating but telling her that you are practically pleading with Lea for your much needed medicine seems far too personal.

A few seconds of awkward silence pass and then there’s some muffled noise on the other end.

‘Hi it’s Lea. Sorry I took a bit.’

You don’t actually need her to introduce herself. The sound of her voice is etched in your memory, as clear as day.

Pausing again, you wonder if you should really do this. Lea could be stubborn and closed off sometimes but she had never been mean. As bad as things had ended between you both, there is surely no way that the striker’s changed so much that she would be cruel enough to withhold your medication.

That is, if she hadn’t simply thrown it away.

You’re taking too long to decide because the blonde tries again, ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

‘It’s me.’ You softly answer.

‘Oh.’

She didn’t sound angry. Or annoyed. You’d take that.

‘I-I’m not interrupting anything am I?’

Your ex exhales quietly, ‘We’re kinda in the middle of a gym session.’

‘Sorry I wouldn’t be calling but I-I really need your help. It’s sort of an emergency.’

You wait for her to reply but nothing comes through.

Then rather steadily she asks, ‘What’s the emergency?’

Swallowing the last of your pride you say, ‘Um…Could you please run back to your place and get something for me?’

‘You want me to leave training the day before a big game to go back to my apartment and get something for you?’ Lea slowly states.

Wincing, you forget she can’t see you and nod. It sounds far worse when she puts it like that. Resignedly, you accept your fate of burying yourself back under your blankets and trying your hardest to sleep this migraine off.

‘You’re right. It’s stupid. I’m sorry for calling, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll just-’

Lea cuts you off, ‘What is it?’

‘What?’

‘What do you need me to get?

You blink in surprise, ‘My Eletriptan. The migraine medication I take. I left a bottle of it at yours and um, never got it back. I don’t have another one presently and I need it.’

The forward lets out a breath and it is enough to have you wondering what the hell you are doing. Asking your ex that you had a far from amicable break up with, for a favour?

Quickly backtracking once more, you rush out, ‘It’s alright. You don’t have to. I’ll figure something out.’

‘No. It’s okay. You need it. I’m assuming you’re at home?’

‘Yeah.’ You breathe, hardly daring to believe your ears.

‘I’ll be there in half an hour. Lie down and close your eyes in the meantime.’

‘Okay.’ You manage.

It’s all you can get out.

Like Lea had requested, you stay laying down and let your eyes slip close.

They fly open again at the realisation that the blue eyed woman is actually coming over. Your apartment is in dire need of a good tidy up, the stress of the past few weeks, no doubt a factor into today’s pounding headache have left you behind in your cleaning.

Lea will definitely see the state of your place, a sharp contrast to her own which had always been neatly organised in the past. You think about getting up and trying to get rid of some of the mess but even the mere act of sitting up makes your head spin.

So you lie back down and keep your attention on breathing through the pain. The Bayern Munich player is just dropping off your bottle of pills. It’s not like she is going to stick around so why should you care?

Except that you do. You have always cared when it comes to Lea Schüller. Such is your weakness for her.

But any sort of movement has your body protesting so you have no choice but to stay very still, not moving from your spot as you drift in your own head. One deep breath in…and one deep breath out.

Till a soft, ‘Hey.’

You automatically try to sit up, a sharp whimper tumbling from your lips as the resulting pain shoots through your head.

Lea’s hand grabs onto your elbow, steadying you and she murmurs, ‘Take it easy. Just stay where you are alright?’

Forcing your eyes open, you take her in as best you can.

The same brilliant blue eyes, lean athlete’s build and shoulder length blonde hair. Still absolutely gorgeous.

You blink up at her and she asks, ‘How long have you been like this?’

It’s hard to think but you make an effort to do so.

‘Since two this afternoon?’

Lea’s eyes widen and she curses under her breath in her native language.

‘You’ve been like this for practically four hours?’

You make a poor attempt at shrugging, ‘Did you...?’

The striker snaps back into focus, ‘Course.’

She reaches into her jacket pocket and there in her hand, is a very precious bottle of prescription medication.

‘Two right?’ She asks even though she is already shaking the correct dosage out onto her palm.

You simply nod, struck speechless by the fact that she remembers.

The blonde makes sure you are sitting up and then carefully holds out your pills, along with the half drunk glass of water from your nightstand.

Staying upright just long enough to accept the medicine and swallow it with a mouthful of water, you soon lay back down amongst your pillows.

‘Thank you Lea.’ You hoarsely whisper.

‘You’re welcome.’ She says, with an expression you can’t quite place.

The pain in your head pulses but you know that is not the reason why you can’t read her because if you are being honest, she’s always been somewhat of a mystery to you.

Breathing in once, twice and then thrice, you realise that contrary to your earlier expectations, the German woman is not turning to leave right away.

‘I’m really sorry to have bothered you. I hope your game goes well tomorrow.’ You offer eventually.

Lea just keeps looking at you with that same indiscernible gaze.

After a long minute, she replies, ‘Thanks and it’s fine. We were doing my least favourite core workouts anyway.’

The striker glances down at her phone, obviously taking note of the time before she adds, ‘I should be getting back though. Obi can only cover for me for so long.’

‘Right. Sorry again to have pulled you away.’

Still, your ex doesn’t make any move to leave.

Instead, she twists the ring on her index finger around a few times and then says, ‘I’ll come back after the session to check on you. It shouldn’t take more than two hours.’

Your mouth drops open in shock.

‘You don’t need…It’s okay. Once the meds kick in, I’ll be alright. You know that.’

After all, this is not your first migraine that Lea’s experienced. When you were still together, she would put your head in her lap and run her fingers through your hair. It was soothing and calming and the tiny featherlight kisses she used to press to your forehead never failed to make you feel better.

But that was the past and well…you can hardly ask her to do that now.

‘No I do know. It’s just that…you look like shit.’

Lea’s words are blunt and she folds her arms across her chest, blue eyes seeming rather challenging as she continues, ‘You’re going to need actual food coming off this migraine and I’d bet you don’t have anything of the sort lying around here.’

You frown, thinking of the instant noodles that make up your pantry.

It’s the only answer your former girlfriend needs because she repeats more or less of what she’d verbalised earlier, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

‘I’ll be back in less than two hours. In the meantime, try to sleep.’

Then she’s gone. Disappearing just as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Too exhausted to try and figure her and what the fuck has just happened out, you bury your head under a pillow to block it all out.

You know the drill now. To get through a bad migraine, you need to stay very very still. Any movement would do you no good.

Count to a hundred, breathing in and out all the while. Reach five hundred, reset your counting and keep taking in deep breaths.

It takes another hour but slowly, the Eletriptan begins to work. Little by little, the headache recedes till you’re able to slip into a fitful sleep at last.

******

When you wake, your room is much darker than it was earlier. Not even the tiniest hint of sunlight peeks through your blinds.

After a few minutes, you decide that the pounding in your head has subsided enough movement to become feasible once more.

Sitting up warily, you catch sight of the time displayed on your alarm clock.

Abruptly, you remember that Lea has said she was coming back.

Wide awake now, you stop only to throw on a hoodie before opening your bedroom door. Someone is definitely here, you can see that your kitchen light is on.

Before you even get halfway down the hall, you smell something amazing…and familiar.

At the doorway to your kitchen, you pause just to look at Lea for a long moment.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if your migraine had been so bad that you are coming up with new symptoms like hallucinations.

Then you dismiss the thought because food has never smelt so good. Not even in your wildest dreams.

She’s standing with her back to you, stirring a pot of what must be stew, made from her mother’s recipe.

She used to make that for you when you’d had a long day. The ensuing rush of nostalgia has you bracing a hand against the wooden frame of the door.

Your former girlfriend hasn’t physically changed much in the five months you have been apart, bar the new tattoo on her arm. Dressed in Bayern’s signature red training outfit and with her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, she’s still all lean muscle, as tall and terribly attractive as she’s always been.

Now that your migraine has dulled, you are better able to appreciate exactly how stunning she is.

You watch her biceps flex as she begins to cut up some greens.

It was those well built arms that you had first fallen in love with. Not because of how fine a figure it gave her but because of how safe you had felt when she’d held you in them.

That’s all irrelevant now, swept to the side due to a more pressing issue. The one that is Lea Schüller standing in your kitchen.

Opening and closing your mouth, you manage to stutter out, ‘W-What are you doing?’

To her credit, the blonde doesn’t flinch.

Her voice is soft but sure when she answers without turning around, ‘Making dinner.’

‘I can see that…but why?’

‘Because you always feel like crap when you don’t have proper food coming off one of your migraines. The one you were having looked especially bad too.’

Two thoughts occur simultaneously. One, is Lea taking care of you? Two, what does this mean?

Detaching yourself from the kitchen doorway, you try to play off the way your heart rate is speeding up. Your head is spinning again, this time because of confusion instead of the headache.

‘You could have just dropped off takeout.’

Now, Lea deigns to look at you, stopping her cooking. Her eyes stay on you as she searches for something you don’t know.

She’s seemingly satisfied after a moment.

‘But I didn't, so here I am.’ She says evenly.

You don’t know how to answer that so you close the remaining distance to your little breakfast counter and take a seat there.

The German woman resumes her cooking and you find yourself questioning her ability to look so composed. How is she looking so at ease here, cooking stew in your kitchen, looking for all the world like the past five months hadn’t happened? Like you two had never broken up?

Neither of you speak again till dinner is ready.

You fetch bowls and spoons from your cupboard, Lea serves both portions.

Setting your bowl in front of you, the Bayern player sits down across from you for the first time in- well, five months.

Then she looks up, blue eyes that are as clear as crystals, meeting yours.

‘Lea…what are you really doing here?’ You barely audibly murmur.

The striker sighs, pushing her bowl away from her and leaning back into her seat.

‘The truth?’

After a long drawn out silence in which she runs her thumb along the handle of her spoon, a restless gesture of hers and you resist the urge to reach across the tabletop to soothe it, Lea admits, ‘I missed you.’

You let her words sink in, trying to work out how you feel about them. Lea had missed you. That means something doesn’t it? Do you want that to mean something?

The answer to that, is so obvious that you can’t lie to yourself. Of course you want it to mean something. You’ve missed Lea like crazy. Every single day since the split.

Your former girlfriend sets her spoon down, gaze downcast as she mumbles, ‘I should leave.’

‘No!’ You start to shake your head, then gasp at the pain that flares up when you do.

Massaging the sides of your temple, you say, ‘Please don’t go. Lea, I-I missed you too.’

A quiet puff of air leaves the blonde, ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d…moved on.’

‘From you?’ Your laugh comes out a touch bitter.

‘I didn’t. I couldn’t.’

Then a thought strikes you and you glance at the German woman furtively, ‘Did you move on?’

Lea blinks as if she had not expected you to ask.

‘I’m here aren’t I?’

Part of you wants to say, ‘Well…for five, nearly six months, you weren’t.’

The Bayern Munich player must sense it because she softens, ‘No. There hasn’t been anyone since. You’re…you. I don’t think there is any getting over you.’

You didn’t know how much you’d been afraid of a different answer till Lea said that. Actually, afraid doesn’t quite cover it, terrified would be a better description.

Relief courses through you so powerfully that you feel lightheaded with the intensity of it.

With how heavy the air is now, you force yourself to pick up your spoon and start on the stew. The last thing you need is to do something stupid like tell Lea you’re still head over heels in love with her.

The blonde takes the cue that you’re done talking for now and the only sound in the room is the clinking of spoons against the bowls.

As expected, the stew is delicious. It had always been your favourite even though Lea never made a meal that you didn’t like.

Like she knows you are thinking about her, the German woman glances up from her bowl, catching your eye and then smiling.

It’s a soft, gentle smile. Reminiscent of old times. Lea making you both dinner, Lea taking care of you after one of your migraines, Lea just being…there. Just constantly there, by your side and looking at you like she never wants to be anywhere else.

You wonder if this is going somewhere. Is this an olive branch or just closure?

Before you know it, your spoon is scraping the bottom of your bowl. The warmth and saltiness of the stew have done wonders and you feel much better.

Lea can see it too because she says, ‘There’s more in the pot if you’d like.’

With a small noise of thanks, you fill up your bowl with a second helping.

Sitting back down, you stir the stew around for a moment and watch the steam rise.

Tentatively, you ask, ‘How’s the football going?’

‘It’s good. The team is doing good. How’s university?’

‘Same. I’m just starting to look for job openings for after my graduation.’

Lea fiddles with her ring, ‘Are you still thinking about teaching?’

‘That’s lovely. It’ll suit you.’

‘I’m pretty sure I want to teach kindergarten.’ You elaborate.

The blonde nods, ‘That suits you too.’

You two fall silent again.

Biting your lip, you try to come up with something to say. It’s strange, almost sad how awkward things feel now. Once upon a time, you had been so comfortable with each other. You’d been open with Lea in ways you never had been with anyone else. It was mutual.

Have things changed so much? Is it possible for a way back?

‘Lea?’

‘Yes?’

‘I just…’ You stop messing around with your food, forcing yourself to look at her properly.

‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the things I said. The last time we saw each other, I said a lot of cruel and awful things that I shouldn’t have. I did not mean them and I’m really sorry.’

Lea puts her spoon down, ‘I’m sorry too. You weren’t the only one who said things she didn’t mean.’

Her words are genuine, you can see it in the bright blue of her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you blurt out, ‘I still love you Lea. I wish we’d never broken up.’

Surprise colours Lea’s pretty features.

‘I wish we’d never broken up either. There’s not been a day where I stopped loving you.’

‘Oh.’ You breathe.

The forward goes on, ‘Letting things end after our argument was a mistake. A huge mistake, mostly on my part. I wanted to call. I should have called.’

‘I’m not blameless…I wanted to call too but you were so angry. I-I thought you didn’t want me to call. I thought that you’d never want to hear from me again.’

Lea rests her elbows on the table, leaning closer to you. Your heart begins to beat more quickly, you’re certain you aren’t misreading the flicker of hope in her expression.

Swallowing hard, the German woman murmurs, ‘You called today.’

‘I did. You dropped everything to come over. Made me dinner too.’

Blushing lightly, Lea murmurs, ‘I was sort of trying to make a grand gesture.’

You smile, ‘It worked.’

Lea begins to grin, ‘It did?’

Almost like she can’t help herself she asks, ‘Do you think…Can we give us another try?’

A hundred things rush through your mind. Happiness and relief blooms in your chest.

Eagerly, you say, ‘I’d like that.’

Lea’s smile begins to take on a giddy edge and she reaches an open hand out across the table.

You take it without a split second’s hesitation.

Lea closes her fingers around yours, gaze alight with affection and pure contentment. It is a look you’d never thought you’d see again and it fills you with a sunshine like warmth.

‘Finish eating my love.’ She finally says, gently letting go of your hand.

The term of endearment causes a tingle of joy to spread through you. Enough so that you don’t stop smiling for the rest of the meal.

When you’re both done, Lea washes and you dry. She flicks some soapy water at you, her giggles filling the space.

You’d missed it. You’d missed her. You tell her so and she pulls you into her arms.

Her chin rests on your shoulder and she whispers, ‘I missed you every single second of every fucking day.’

You breathe in her smell, taking comfort in it and the safety of her arms once again.

‘Let’s never do that again.’

‘Deal.’ Lea promises.

Then she seals it with a kiss and oh my…you’d forgotten what it was like to be in heaven.

Lea’s lips are incredibly soft, the kiss slow and sweet. It’s everything and more, better than you’d remembered.

When you both part, there’s a single tear making its way down your cheek.

In a tender gesture, Lea wipes it off with the pad of her thumb.

A small relieved laugh escapes her, ‘I think we’re going to be okay.’

You pull her even closer, mouth quirking upwards against your lover’s lips because you know now that you’re never going to let her go again. This is going to work, you’d do your damndest to make sure of it.

‘I think we’re going to be more than okay.’

#lea schüller #lea schüller x reader #lea schüller imagine #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #fcb frauen x reader #gerwnt x reader #dfb frauen x reader #katelynnwrites

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