#vicky got an ask

[one-vivid-judgment]

I love running the Ichi-Nanba-Joongi-Zhao party combo, not because they are strong (which they are, they literally have the best possible weapons for their jobs atp), but because it's literally just awkward-double-date-core.

[topsyturvy-turtely]

Hi sweetie!! How was your first day at college?

hi vick!

how sweet of you to ask me that 🥰

it was good. i mean mostly it was like "sign this paper!" and "if you want balblabla look this up!" and also "please don't wear shoes inside!" and then it was kinda over... so it is VERY much like school. it's basically school tbh... but yeah not a negative experience so ig it was good :D

thank you for the ask, bae <3

[hearts-4-vicky]

I also wanna be adopted 🥺🥺

@ningvory we have another kid 😝😝

[wastemanjohn]

happy deanjohn friday!! does JOHN know about dean and bobby and how do you want him to find out?

happy deanjohn friday to you also (or Saturday now!) ❤ and thanks for the ask this is so spicy!!

maybe a less spicy answer though: i actually think that john would never ever find out. i don't even think he would ever suspect - kind of similar to what's been brought up about bobby suspecting johndean, i think that works both ways - if john notices anything slightly strange in their interactions his first thought is not going to be "well they're obviously bumping uglies" - he'd find other, way less extreme explanations before he landed there. it's uncomfortable as fuck to think about, but bobby has also been a parental figure in dean's life - someone john has trusted, which, no matter how sour his and bobby's relationship obviously got later, trusting bobby to take care of his kids would have been a huge deal for someone as paranoid as john. so later in life, when dean is an adult, it would just not occur to him that deanbobby could ever be the case. plus i'm also not sure how tuned in john is to other people to even notice much about them anyway! he's quite self absorbed. that no doubt extends to dean.

and dean - i don't see dean keeping, or being able to keep, many secrets from john. but there's no way he's ever telling john about this. he well knows that bobby wouldn't be long for this world if he ever did. and if we're talking background johndean - then dean also knows that for john to find out would be very bad for him. no one wants their husband to know that they're secretly banging their best friend, right? i think i see bobby as an escape from john, that bobby can maybe give him things that john can't. consistency. appreciation. undivided attention - a lonely old man like bobby is not going to take a pretty young thing in his bed for granted, and he isn't going to take dean for granted generally. dean may not even be conscious that this is what it's about for him - and he may feel very conflicted and guilty about it. but it's all the more reason for john to never know - because it would be admitting to both john and to himself that john isn't willing or able to give him what he needs. that would be so painful for dean to confront i think. john too, probably - he does not great things and behaves in not great ways. but i think he at least feels a lot of guilt about them.

bobby, obviously, is not going to let on. to protect dean and to protect himself. he too knows that john would kill him and probably not just metaphorically lol. i think bobby would be super conflicted and confused about the whole thing as it is - for maybe obvious reasons - but that's another post.

but yeah- ultimately i see deanbobby as something that happens in a great amount of secrecy. i don't know about anyone else but to me dean and bobby having a sexual relationship feels way more taboo than john and dean having one - which is crazy, but biological or not, i can't see bobby as anything other than dean's dad. i actually always felt low key squicked about shipping them until some very indepth and convincing conversations with @vintagedean recently. i know bobby also has his own not-small flaws and not everyone is as up his arse as i am lol - but anyway, to me that taboo is definitely reflected in any relationship they have. they aren't talking about it or acknowledging it unless it's happening. they're not being lax about hiding it from sam, they really don't want him to know either. it only ever happens in bobby's house, and only when no one else is around. it's something they'll both probably take to their grave.

so how would i want john to find out? i don't think i do. for me personally the secrecy/shame/extramarital affair angle is a huge part of the appeal of this ship. though i'm sure it would cause dean a lot of anxiety - getting back into bed with john after a solo hunt, knowing full well he took a detour on the way back, still a little sore and dazed from bobby - but he knows, deep down, that john isn't going to notice. he doesn't seem to notice much at all.

[thestobingirlie]

I saw a r/nance shipper make a post about why would it be considered a betrayal to steve if robin and nancy started dating. as if steve is totally invisible there.

but the thing about this post that bugged me the most is they went on to say 'oh if robin is betraying steve by getting with nancy, steve is betraying robin in all the fics that have steve/vickie, and steve getting with vickie would be a bigger betrayal because of robins crush and no one is talking about this betrayal'

and i was just???? my dude, you are creating an imaginary scenario. I just looked, there are a total of 2 steve/vickie fics on ao3. and both of those its as part of a polycule that also includes robin. and I've been following the steve tag on tumblr for a while and I've never seen any steve/vickie content on here.

And even if there were steve/vickie content, getting with a friends current or former crush is very different to getting with a friends ex that hurt them badly at the end of the relationship.

I would know, ive been in both scenarios. I've had a friend get with my crush, and yeah, I felt a little betrayed, but I got over it and we stayed friends. I've also had a friend get with an ex where there had been a messy and painful break up. The betrayal was so much worse at this point, and our friendship never recovered, even after they broke up.

Robin is Steve's best friend. Her getting with Nancy would be the biggest betrayal to Steve possible because of the way Nancy treated Steve in their relationship (as a placeholder for Jonathan, and then the whole bathroom scene.). If Steve had any self respect, he wouldn't be able to stay close with Robin after that. Because it feels like a punch in the face when a friend disregards how an ex treated you to get with them.

i’ve gotten multiple asks about this same post lmao, and yeah it kinda pissed me off too.

their initial point about how people that are anti r//nance think about how the ship would affect stobin by saying that we’re treating her like she’s steve’s ‘sidekick’? have they honestly never had a friend before?? what the fuck do you mean considering your friends feelings makes you their sidekick?

from my earliest anti r//nance posts, one of my points has been that steve dating tammy thompson would be beyond fucked up, and the only real equatable relationship to r//nance. because of robin’s history with tammy, and her projecting this hatred onto steve, robin would be entitled to feel however she wanted to feel about it.

and steve dating vickie, while still fucked up, is nowhere near the same as r//nance, let alone more fucked up. get serious.

nancy wasn’t just steve’s brief crush. she was steve’s girlfriend of a year that brutally broke his heart. steve still has relationship issues because of the end of that relationship and they’ve never had a real conversation about it. robin dating nancy isn’t the same as steve dating a crush, robin dating nancy is cruel. and betraying her best friend.

and yeah, i’ve never seen any solo vickie and steve content, i have seen steve and robin both dating vickie, which i think more often stems from the joke that no one will ever be able to date one half of stobin, because the other is always there lmao. but even the few posts i’ve seen have dived into how stobin would kinda struggle around their attraction to the same girl and the way they would work it out.

the difference between stobinickie and r//nance is that people shipping the former care about stobin, and people shipping the latter couldn’t give a fuck about them. they don’t care that steve is robin’s best friend, the first person she ever felt comfortable coming out to, the person she literally wants to combine into one being with.

besides that, r//nance makes up a significant potion of the fandom, whereas stobinickie is a crack ship known by about four people lmao. why would anyone be talking about it?

i don’t doubt that if i dated my friends ex, who he’s told me all about, and of which i know the details of their rough breakup, he would never speak to me again. and he would be well within his rights. how could he look at me knowing i was dating someone that hurt him. let alone diving into the complexities that he would be worried about me being hurt the same way.

even if stancy had ended positively, steve would be entitled to have feelings about his best friend, who he spends pretty much every second of the day with, dating his ex. but they didn’t end well!

you can ship r//nance, but don’t pretend that you give a fuck about robin and steve’s characters. robin and nancy have effectively become two hot barbies people are knocking together, with no real personalities.

[emeraldelysium]

orchid and papyrus :)

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

ow! (splidao!) [i like it, though] by hail the sun. honestly the entire elephantitis ep is just. god it's so good. it's like post-hardcore screamo math rock and it's genuinely perfect i love it so much hjsdfk

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

bill watterson by lemon demon. yes the song about stalking the calvin and hobbes cartoonist. i love lemon demon in general and its a good song and some of neil's vocals on that are great. like when he goes AND EAT YOUR HEART AND ABSORB YOUR POWERS adjhfskl yeah. i have an irl friend who is also a lemon demon enjoyer so i associate it with him ^_^

[acciocriativity]

you already know!! please add me to the ateez tag list! put me down for EVERYTHING!! (if that’s ok!!) 🫶🏻🤎

Heyyy, of course it's ok! I never had an ateez taglist before, but I'll make one now and you'll be there 💕

[dreamsteddie]

I love pre Season 3 Steddie AUs so much because there are so many opportunities for Eddie to be so incredibly jealous of his boyfriend's new best friend, Robin Buckley.

Eddie got so used to Steve spending basically every moment of free time he has with Eddie in some capacity, even if it's just them shooting the shit in the back of Eddies van getting high after a long day and he's come to covet his Steve Time like a precious treasure.

And then all of a sudden Steve has a friend his age??? A friend who doesn't have an 8PM curfew???? What the fuck??????

But Eddie doesn't want to be a toxic, controlling boyfriend who doesn't let his partner have a social life! He really doesn't! And he gets that Steve and Robin went through something together that they won't, can't, share with him and they need each other. But he got so used to having all of Steve's time that whenever he has to spend a Saturday night alone because Robin and Steve are having Boy Time watching a soccer game and talking about their crushes, instead of hitting up his own friends or working on a campaign or whatever he just pines and sighs by the window lamenting about whether or not his beloved will return from the war. Wayne hates it.

When Steve and Eddie see each other the next day having spent literally less than 24 hours apart, Eddie latches on like a limpet and demands to be consoled with a thousand kisses and a grilled cheese sandwich.

Eventually, once Steve and Robin are a little more settled after the events of Starcourt, the three of them start spending more time together as a trio which at least allows Eddie to hold his boyfriend during movie night. Eddie reluctantly admits that Robin is actually really cool and they become fast friends right up until Eddie realized Robin is stealing his boyfriend ON PURPOSE.

It's not all the time but what Eddie has come to learn about Robin Buckley is that she is a menace. She'll real you in with her sweet freckles and charming ramblings but she's always looking for a way to fuck with Eddie, especially if he's wronged her first. Eddie returns a tape without rewinding it? Steve won't be at band practice tomorrow, actually, because Robin needs someone to help with her art project due on Monday. Eddie got Cheeto dust on Robin's favorite sweater? Suddenly Robin and Steve have plans to get drunk and plan a way for Robin to ask Vickie out for Valentine's Day. No boyfriends allowed. Eddie stole Robin's favorite Steve Sweater before she could get to it on movie night? Steve rainchecks Eddie for their bi-weekly Let's Get High date because Robin is conveniently sick. Must be because she didn't have a jacket on movie night.

Once Eddie catches on it becomes a fierce game competition between the both of them. Steve acts like he's none the wiser, but he's secretly lapping up all the attention he's getting.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Christmas Karaoke | E.M.

He wasn't a Christmas guy, being the town freak and his all together hatred of capitalist bullsh*t, but when he saw you smile like that, your eyes dancing like the twinkle bulbs, he thought maybe he could be.

feat. Eddie Munson x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go out to Christmas karaoke with your friends Robin, Steve, Vickie, and Eddie and get a little wild, liquid courage and some classic carols giving you the push you need to claim your man.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, eddies pov, drinking/getting drunk, protective!eddie, mentions of blood/fighting, eddie is the sweetest (and filthiest) man alive, oral (f&m), dirty talk

Eddie flipped down the visor on the van, checking his hair and making sure he didn't have an spaghetti sauce on his chin from dinner at Wayne's. The van was idling outside your door, thick clouds of steam obscuring the outside world.

He was picking you up for Christmas Karaoke with Steve, Robin, and Vickie at the Hideout. It was a normal thing, he'd picked you up countless times for countless reasons, so why the fuck were his hands shaking on the steering wheel?

He clenched his hands, knuckles white and rings digging into his skin, and tried to take a deep breath. Things had started to change for him over the summer, after Eddie got into a fight with a handsy lifeguard at the pool.

He wasn't a violent man, truly. But when that fucker put his hands on your skin, glowing in the afternoon sun and dripping with chlorinated water, and your face screwed up with disgust and fear, he saw red.

It took an hour to clean the blood from his rings, and you'd been gracious enough to help him. Cramped into the trailer bathroom, scrubbing at his Cthulhu ring with some Palm Olive and an old toothbrush, your brow crinkled in concentration.

Now, he couldn't even wash the fucking dishes without thinking of you.

Every since that afternoon, he was a nervous wreck around you, clumsy and awkward, though you were too sweet to ever comment on it. You were oblivious to the change in him, at least as far as he knew.

He flipped up the visor and sagged into his seat, turning that Cthulhu ring on his middle finger. It was just karaoke, he could do this—

“Hey, Eds!” You chirped, tugging open the van door and climbing in.

His greeting died in his throat when he saw your outfit. Leather mini shirt and ripped tights, heavy boots, eyeliner…and what had to be the ugliest patchwork Christmas sweater he'd ever seen.

But somehow, you made it look sexy as fuck.

“What? Too much?” You asked, pulling at the hem of your sweater with a smirk.

Eddie clapped a hand over his eyes, letting go of the wheel. “You're gonna have to drive, babe. My eyes have melted from the hideousness.”

You laughed, the sound like Christmas bells, and swatted his arm. “It's not that bad! Robin helped me!”

“It's grotesque.” He smiled, dropping his hands to start driving. “And I love it—”

“You do?” You beamed so brightly, he almost didn't finish his sentence.

“Sure! The way I love “Night of the Walking Dead”, or when Ozzy bit the head off that bat—”

“Ha ha, go fuck yourself.” You stuck your tongue out at him and he huffed a laugh.

“I'm teasing you,” he chuckled, adjusting the radio to your preferred station. “It's perfect. And only you could pull of that kind of monstrosity.”

You smiled, settling into your seat, and cranked up the music.

It took a concerted effort for Eddie to keep his eyes on the road. The color splashed against your skin was so pretty, and the soft smile on your face every time he passed a particularly elaborate house made his heart forget how to beat.

He wasn't a Christmas guy, being the town freak and his all together hatred of capitalist bullshit, but when he saw you smile like that, your eyes dancing like the twinkle bulbs, he thought maybe he could be.

“So, will we get a Corroded Coffin performance?” You asked, jarring him from his fantasies.

He snorted. “Unlikely.”

“I’m sorry, you, Eddie Munson, who sings more than he speaks, aren't going to participate in karaoke?”

“It's not like Judas Priest has a Christmas song,” he chuckled. “I don't have the range for Sinatra. Though I'm flattered you think so.”

“What if I pick it for you?” You asked, batting those pretty eyes at him.

He sighed, thunking his head back against the headrest. “Stop lookin’ at me like that, it's not fair.”

“Like what?” You tilted your head, glossed lips pursing slightly.

He wanted to sink his teeth into that pout, see a sticky ring of your lip gloss around his—

“Fine, fuck. One song.”

“Yay!” You leaned across the seat, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek, and he nearly swerved off the road in his shock. “You won't regret this.”

“I don't believe that for a second, sweetheart,” he said, praying you chalked his blush up to the multi-colored lights.

“Oh god, not you too,” Steve said when you bound towards him through the crowd, Eddie on your heels.

“You love it, Harrington,” you teased, stealing the beer in his hand and taking a few, long gulps. Steve and Eddie’s eyes met over your head, both wide with surprise.

“Woah there!” Robin said, appearing to Steve’s left, dressed in an equally ugly sweater. “That kind of night?”

You set the now mostly empty beer on the counter. “Yep. What's a Mistletoe Mayhem?” You called out to Nick, the bartender.

Nothing good, Eddie thought.

“Green and sparkly,” the bartender replied.

“Perfect,” you grinned, slapping your ID on the counter.

“Make that two!” Robin chimed in, and Steve groaned.

“I want one!” Vickie emerged from the dance floor, also wearing a hideous sweater, though it was tied around her waist.

“Three Mayhem's coming up,” Nick chuckled, skimming ids before passing them back and moving down the bar.

“And can I get another beer? No? Alright,” Steve sighed, leaning back against the bar. “What's up, Munson?” He said, waving Eddie over.

Eddie tore his eyes away from where you were gushing with Vickie over the bars tiny Christmas tree and moved towards Steve.

“Oh, nothing. Kids have been asking me to put together a festive quest for our session tomorrow. Best I can do is Krampus.”

Steve chuckled, smiling when the pretty female bartender slid him and Eddie some beers. “Not into Christmas, huh?”

“Are you?”

“Nah, Mom was always the Hallmark family Christmas type, just felt so phony, y’know?”

“I do. Poor Harrington with his mountains of presents and immaculately decorated house,” Eddie teased, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t a mountain.”

“Oh, I apologize. A rather large hill of presents.”

“Three Mayhem's up!” Nick called, and the three of you bound out of the crowd like puppies called for dinner. Nick set down three fishbowls full of green, glittery liquid, topped with cranberries and limes, and a sprig of mistletoe.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “That looks dangerous.”

Eddie agreed, but held his tongue.

You took a big sip, needing two hands to hold the giant glass, and immediately pulled a face before unleashing a hundred kilowatt grin. “Very dangerous,” you hummed, taking another sip, and Eddie felt his cock twitch to life at the wicked gleam in your eye.

It was going to be a long night.

Karaoke began half an hour later, with Steve and Robin kicking things off with a dramatized rendition of “Baby, It's Cold Outside.”

Eddie was following you around the bar like a shadow, scaring away anyone foolish enough to look at you twice. But you were none the wiser, already buzzed and dancing around like a Christmas elf on crack.

You were already one Mayhem deep, and he bribed Nick to tell you they were out of the mix to spare the consequences of a second. But you just ordered a double margarita instead, so his efforts, and $20, were forfeit.

But Eddie was more than happy to be your guard dog for the evening, so long as you were having fun and safe. It's what any good friend would do. But when he ran into Gareth and they started talking about the new Slayer album, he lost track of you.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, surveying the crowd for your sweater. But with the fog and throbbing multi-colored lights, it was impossible to see anything clearly. “Excuse me,” he said, interrupting Gareth in the middle of a sentence.

He bee-lined to the high top where your friends sat.

“There he iiissss!” Robin yelled, waving her beer glass in the air. “Where ya been Edward-ed-son?”

“Have you seen y/n?” He asked, mostly to Steve, who appeared to be the only other sober person on the entire establishment.

“Thought you had her.” Steve shrugged. “Got my hands full.” He nodded towards Robin and Vickie, who were now loudly singing along to the karaoke.

“I did, but then Gare—”

The crowd erupted in applause as the song ended, cutting Eddie off.

“That was greeeaaat, Tina. Now, let's welcome y/n singing a classic, ‘Santa Baby’!”

Eddie whirled around to the stage and your friends burst into cheers. You sauntered out in your little skirt and insane sweater, grinning ear to ear as the spotlight swung towards you.

“Found her,” Steve chuckled, pulling out the chair beside him for Eddie.

Eddie dropped into it, rolling his eyes and laughing. He should have known. “What's ‘Santa Baby'?” Eddie asked as the song started.

Steve gave him a sympathetic look and clapped him on the back. “Oh, you'll see.”

You stepped up to the mic, the one Eddie's used on countless occasions, and wrapped your little hands around it. Something about it being his mic your lips were so close to made the primitive part of his brain purr with delight, and he relaxed into his seat, hiding his growing erection under the table.

Steve slid his beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip, his mouth dry as the desert.

“Santa Baby, just slip a Sable under the tree, for me,” you sang, your voice breathy and so sweet. “Been an awful good girl.”

Your eyes locked on Eddie and he nearly choked, his cock lurching painfully against his jeans, heart pounding in his ears.

Surely you didn't mean to look directly at him, right? He had a habit of searching you out during shows too, you were probably just mirroring that. Looking for a familiar face in a sea of strangers.

“Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.” You dragged your hands down the mic stand, swaying your hips to the music, and Eddie thought he might faint.

He maybe would have, if it wasn't for the roaring men pushing towards the front of the stage drawing his attention.

But your eyes were still locked on him, ignoring them entirely, and he gave you an encouraging thumbs up. He wasn't about to let his stupid crush, or a bunch of leering creeps, ruin your fun.

You kept singing, your voice a little wobbly, but airy in that way that made his pants tighten and his mind wander to places it definitely shouldn't. You looked so beautiful up there, laughing and swaying to the music, that Eddie found himself smiling too.

“Lookin’ a little lovesick there, Eds,” Steve teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Eddie waved him off. “Nah, just making sure she has someone that isn't a perv to look at.”

Steve nodded, popping some nuts into his mouth. Steve was the only friend of theirs that seemed to clock Eddie's shift in demeanor, though he mostly kept it to himself. Eddie knew he knew, and Steve knew that Eddie knew he knew, and that was good enough.

You wrapped up the song with a flourish, doing a little curtsy in your mini skirt, and Eddie cheered as loud as he could, ensuring you heard him over the roar of douche bags.

He jumped up, rushing to meet you at the edge of the stage before someone else could, adjusting himself as went. The crowd parted and there you were, bright as the morning sun, bounding down the stairs and into his arms.

“I did it!” You cried.

“You were amazing,” he murmured, lifting you up and spinning your around. It was totally platonic, but the rest of these fucks didn't know that.

“Phew, what a show. Next up we have a familiar face! Eddie Munson of our very own Corroded Coffin singing ‘Blue Christmas’!”

You squealed in delight and Eddie's jaw dropped. “Go, go!” You shoved against his back, pushing him up the stairs as someone handed him a guitar.

“Figured you didn't need the track, yeah?” Danny, the stagehand said with a grin.

“I don't know this shit, man,” Eddie protested, but Danny rolled his eyes.

“I'll play it in the background, you'll pick it up!”

Suddenly Eddie was in the spotlight, and you were jumping up and down on the side stage. It was far from an atypical experience for him, but butterflies still churned in his stomach. He never got used to you watching him perform, even if it was something as silly as Christmas karaoke. The pressure to impress you was paralyzing, but if it would make you happy…

The track started rolling softly in the background, and he focused on his fingers, finding the simple chord and replicating it with relative ease. The audience cheered even louder, and he smirked to himself.

He risked a glance over at you, confident he had a handle on the notes, and you were practically glowing with joy.

Shit, maybe Corroded Coffin needed to add some Christmas song to their set.

Words started to roll across the small screen at his feet, and he stepped up to the mic, absolutely delighted to find a smear of your lipgloss on the net.

“I’ll have a blue Christmas, without you,” he crooned, putting on his best Elvis impression, and the roar of the ladies was deafening. “I'll be so blue just thinking about you.” He let his eyes wander back to you at the end of the lyric, wondering if you understood just how close this song hit home for him.

You were grinning ear to ear, swaying happily to the music. Oblivious.

“You’ll be doing all right, with your Christmas of white. But I'll have a blue, blue blue blue Christmas,” he continued, finding that he did, in fact, know this song despite his earlier assertion.

C’mon, who didn't know Elvis?

Thankfully, it was an incredibly brief song, and he finished off with a freestyle riff, earning another cacophony of drunken cheers.

He bowed and hustled of the stage to where you waited for him, arms open. He held the guitar behind his back and scooped you up around the waist with his free arm, lifting your feet off the ground.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, wafting your sweet perfume and the bitter sting of alcohol over him. “That was amazing!” You gushed.

“Thanks, sweetheart. But you were better,” he replied, passing Danny the guitar. He started to carry you down the steps, but you shook your head.

“Wanna go backstage,” you murmured against his ear, and his heart stopped.

He pulled his head back to look at you, eyebrows raised. “Backstage? Why?”

You worried your lip between your teeth, eyes like melting honey. “Please, Eddie baby?”

He could do nothing but obey, backing up the steps and ducking behind the curtain with you still in his arms. He shifted his hold you, your legs wrapping around his waist, mini skirt pushing up to enough to give him a glimpse of the cherry red of your panties.

You dragged your nails down his shoulders, your lips finding his throat and leaving soft, sticky kisses along his jugular vein that may as well have been along his cock for how intense the contact felt.

“Honey,” he grunted, stopping to press you against a dressing room door. “How drunk are you?” he panted, eyes crossing when your tongue laved over his pulse, your teeth grazing his pierced lobes.

“Not too drunk, I promise,” you said, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Been wanting this for so long, Eddie, please—”

He swallowed your sweet words with a kiss, tentative at first, but quickly devolving into a sloppy mess, your cherry flavored lip gloss and the lingering taste of cranberry vodka flipping a switch in his brain that had his long-held control unraveling. This was his one shot to impress you, his one shot to get you as addicted to him as he was to you, and he was not about to fuck it up.

Eddie was the town freak, and dating him came with all the baggage of that title. But he’d show you the benefits of it, too.

He had to make like Santa Clause and fucking deliver.

With a quick turn of his wrist, he opened the door to the dressing room and carried you through. He dropped you onto the leather chaise before climbing up your body, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss. Your tongue probed at his lower lip and he opened for you, your smaller muscle licking curiously along the inside of his mouth, when he felt the tip of it brush the warm metal of his tongue piercing.

You gasped, apparently having forgotten about that particular modification, and pride blazed through his chest like an inferno.

He leveraged your surprise to turn the power into his favor, driving his tongue into your mouth, feeling drunk himself on the intoxicating taste of your drool. He dragged the piercing over the roof of your mouth and you shivered, your hips rising to press against his thigh.

He pressed his leg harder against your deliciously warm cunt and you whimpered, you hips rolling in a more deliberate motion. He brought one of his hands down to grip your hip, his rings digging into your soft flesh as he helped you ride his thigh.

“How long you been wanting this, baby? Huh?” He rasped against your ear, hearing your breath hitch. “Barely touched you and look, so desperate already.”

Your hands curled against his shirt, your hips stuttering against his thigh as the pleasure mounted, your slick starting to seep through your panties onto his jeans. “Fuck, feels s’good,” you whined, burying your face into his neck.

“Yeah? Little pussy getting nice and wet for me? Such a good girl. Look so sexy riding my thigh.” He encouraged, noting the way his words made your hips move incrementally faster, the filth spurring you on.

Despite thoroughly enjoying the sight of you dry humping his leg, his mouth watered for something even sweeter.

He moved his thigh back, the denim wet with your honey, and he lowered to his knees on the ground. “Can I taste, sugar? You’re not the only one that's been waiting ages for this.” He started kissing up your inner thighs, wet and loud smacks on your tender skin as he moved closer to your sopping panties.

“Please, Eds, wanna feel you,” you panted, spreading your thighs wider for him like an angel opening heaven’s gates.

His heart gave an elated thump. How could this be real life? Here he was, moments from devouring your drooling, pink pussy and you were saying his name like that? Asking to feel his tongue against you? Maybe he really had gone to fucking heaven.

“Fuck, so pretty. So fucking perfect.” He dragged his tongue over the clingy fabric of your panties, sucking the material into his mouth to taste you. His eyes rolled back in his head—so fucking sweet.

With deft fingers, he slid them down your legs and stuffed them in his back pocket, before settling back between your legs.

You were trembling with anticipation, worrying your lips between your teeth as you watched him through your painted lashes. With a flattened tongue, he licked from your entrance to your clit, feeling the heat, the velvet softness of your slit without obstruction.

You keened, throwing your head back onto the arm of the couch when he swirled the tip around your clit, flicking his piercing over the sensitive bud.

Shit, he could do this forever. Just live between your legs, making music with the most beautiful instrument he'd ever played: you.

With two fingers, he dipped into the pool of slick at your entrance, lubricating himself before easing them inside, watching your face over the stretch of your body for signs of discomfort. But you only continued to moan, already looking gorgeously wrecked.

He worked you with his tongue and fingers, finding that spongy spot inside you that made you sing, and let himself get lost in the rhythm, the mind-numbing bliss of pleasuring you.

“Eddie baby, fuck. M’getting close,” you whined, and he could feel the truth of your statement, your walls starting to twitch and clench around his fingers, your clit swelling under his tongue.

“That's it, sugar. Come all over my tongue, wanna drown in you—”

You cry drowned out his words, the cunt clenching hard around his aching fingers, a fresh gush of honey soaking his palm and chin. Pride soared through him, and he greedily lapped up every drop you released for him, watching your body twitch and writhe while you came down.

“You’re a goddamn dream, baby. Did so well f’me,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and cleaning them with his tongue before placing a final kiss on your puffy clit.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you panted, pulling him up onto the couch with shaky arms. “You're too good at that.” You leaned in for a kiss, dragging your tongue over his lips before smushing your lips together in a quick, sloppy press.

“Thank you, honey,” he hummed, feeling like a damn king. The luckiest bastard alive.

But then you shifted off the couch, settling on your knees between his thighs, and his brain turned off.

“What are you—” His words fractured into a strangled moan when you dragged your tongue over the hard swell of his cock, separated by the rough fabric of his jeans.

You continued to mouth at his bulge while undoing his belt with quick little fingers, unzipping his jeans. He reached into his boxers and freed himself, still half-dazed by the sight of you on your knees for him in a dirty, dive bar dressing room.

He was painfully hard, the head and angry red and leaking, his balls already tight and hot. And you, being the sweet thing you are, didn't waste a second, popping the head into your mouth and sucking the precum from his skin.

Your mouth was scalding, melting his mind at the wet pliancy of your tongue and cheeks while you took him deeper.

“Fucking shit, baby. Oh god—” he fisted the couch cushions, the temptation to fist your hair and push you deeper overwhelming. But he wanted to see what you would do on your own.

You hollowed out your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his shaft with messy, drooling strokes, your hand wrapped around his base. His vision went fuzzy, heat curling low in his stomach as pleasure spilled through him.

Shit, you were too fucking good at that.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, head thrown back against the couch, and finally he let himself place his hand on the back of your head, careful to keep his rings from catching in your hair. You leaned into him, moaning softly around his length.

He picked his head up, needing to watch you as you reached the base of him, a sticky, soaking mess in the thatch of his dark pubic hair.

“That's it, sugar. Just like that—fuck,” he grunted, his hips canting up when he felt the tightness of your throat, your tongue lapping at the throbbing root of him. He was deliriously, embarrassingly close already, but he didn't have the heart to slow you down for even a second.

You pulled back, suckling the head with your plush lips while your hand twisted up and down his slippery shaft, the swallowed him down again with a sinful slurp.

Like a bolt of lightening, his balls drew up and he was coming, unable to give you more of a warning than his hand flexing, his cock swelling on your tongue. Sparks danced behind his eyes, his nerves frying beneath his skin as he released rope after rope of come down your throat.

And like a good girl, you swallowed it all and sucked him dry, broken whines falling from his lips as your nursed his oversensitive head.

“Baby, fuck, take it easy on me—”

You released him with a pop, flashing the sweetest, most angelic smile with your chin covered in drool and lipgloss, and he dragged you up into his lap, desperate to hold you close.

“I do good?” You asked, batting your lashes at him, a smug little smirk on your face.

“Good? Honey, you rocked my world.” He pulled you in for a kiss, toothy and playful since neither of you could stop smiling, giddy with the shock of it all.

You giggled as his rained kisses over your face, down your neck, his fingers tickling along your hips and up over your ribs. He wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning back against the couch as he slowed his movements, coaxing you to relax into him.

“Wanted you for long,” he murmured into your hair. “Please tell me you'll be mine.” The words came out so soft, for a second he wasn't sure if you'd heard him.

But then you pressed your hands to his chest and sat up a little, looking into his eyes. “I already am, Eds.”

He grinned, cheeks sore and heart pounding, and kissed you again while a terrible rendition of Ella Fitzgerald's “I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm” bleed through the thin walls.

Looked like it wouldn't be a blue Christmas after all.

[woso-dreamzzz]

If You Were My Little Girl II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Things are looking up

Alexia watches from the stands.

They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.

Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.

But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.

Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.

A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.

Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.

There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.

They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.

You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.

The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.

A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.

She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.

It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.

You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.

You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.

"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."

You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."

"I'm managing expectations."

Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."

She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.

"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.

"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."

"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.

You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.

You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.

Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.

You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.

A toe pokes you in the leg.

"Move."

"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."

"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.

"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."

"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"

Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.

The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.

Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.

It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.

All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.

Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.

She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.

She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.

Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.

"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.

"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"

"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"

Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."

"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."

You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.

If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.

But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.

"Thanks."

Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.

You stop.

"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"

"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Possibly..."

"And there's no getting out of this?"

Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."

You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.

Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.

It's just a fleeting second.

Just a moment.

But your good mood plummets as the door opens.

Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.

Between you and Jenni.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Robin skidded into Steve’s house to find him curled up with Eddie.

Robin: Vickie asked me out today, and I said yes!

Steve: Don't do it, Eddie.

Eddie: You know damn well that I have to.

Eddie got up, reached into his pocket, and threw confetti in the air.

Eddie: Hell yeah!

Robin: What the hell was that?!

Eddie: That was my emergency pocket confetti. I keep it around in case there's good news!

Steve: Yeah, he did that when I asked him out.

Robin: *thoughtfully* Emergency pocket confetti. . .

Steve: Ugh, not you, too. . .whatever, just be glad he didn't get it confused it with his emergency pocket sand.

Eddie: Won't be making that mistake again.

[luckyvickylover]

Lucky Vicky in Paris

Male Reader x Jang Wonyoung

Tags : smut, anal, creampie, oral, first person

3.5K words.

This is my first work, hope you like it! Please, let me know what you think of it. Thanks for reading.

My Paris Fashion Week adventure started with a dream: seeing Jang Wonyoung in person. To me, she's more than a celebrity—my admiration for her runs very deep. When I discovered she would be there, I rushed to book a train from Milan to Paris. My heart pounded with excitement.

I reach the city in the late afternoon. The atmosphere buzzes. Paris shines with lights, music, and fashion, yet my focus is singular. Sleep eludes me. By dawn, I'm at the spot, waiting. The sky remains dark and the air is icy. Yet, I'm unfazed. With camera in hand, I'm ready to capture her.

Time drags on. The sun rises and the crowd thickens. I hold my spot; it feels like a slice of heaven. Then, in the early afternoon, the excitement peaks. Wonyoung arrives. Her smile and grace radiate a quality reminiscent of another realm. My heart races as I start snapping photos, eager to capture every moment.

Adrenaline takes over, and before I even know it, I scream "Jang Wonyoung, I love you!"

I expect the chaos to drown out my voice, but she stops. She turns around, looks for me with his gaze... and then she notices me. It's like a dream. With a decisive step, she approaches the barriers near me. The world seems to stop. 

"What's your name?" she asks me in a sweet and curious voice. 

I tell her my name, my voice trembling with emotion, but she replies with a faint smile.

"On social media, otherwise how can I find the photos that you took of me?"

I struggle to breathe. Yet, with trembling hands, I show her my Instagram. She moves closer. Then, he looks into my eyes for a moment. With a knowing smile, she whispers:

"Got plans tonight? Here's an idea: post-midnight, my hotel. Ask for me. Simple."

Before I can answer, she walks away. I'm left, speechless, as the crowd erupts in screams and flashes. I can't believe what happened. And now... all that remains is to wait for midnight. 

…

After that unusual meeting, the day flew by in a blend of emotion and anxiety. But there was an issue: she didn't tell me where she was staying. Still, I wasn't ready to give up. I turned to Twitter and began my search. Thankfully, Wonyoung's fans are sharp. I found photos of her leaving a hotel. By piecing together the details, I discovered her location.

At midnight, my heart racing, I reach the hotel. It's grand, elegant, and a bit daunting. Inside, I try to appear calm, despite sweaty hands and weak legs. I walk to the desk and, hesitantly, I ask:

"There should be a room booked in the name of Jang Wonyoung. Could you contact the room and say I asked about her?"

The receptionist raises an eyebrow but asks no questions. After a moment that seems eternal, he looks at me and says "Room 915, go upstairs."

I can't believe it. I step into the elevator, heart racing. The floor numbers change slowly. My mind is chaotic. Finally, I reach the door. The corridor is quiet, lights dim. Almost breathless, I knock.

The door opens, and there she is, right in front of me. She looks beautiful, even in her simple and relaxed attire. She smiles at me with a hint of complicity, as if everything were perfectly normal.

…

"Come in," she says in a calm voice, gesturing for me to remove my jacket. I do so without thinking, feeling out of place in this strange situation.

"Would you like some tea?" she asks, then glides to the corner with the kettle.

"Yes, with pleasure," I reply, my voice trembling as I settle into an armchair by the table. I'm not sure why I'm here or how I got to this point. I watch her make tea, finding elegance in every move.

She hands me a steaming cup. I thank her and take it, hiding my flickering hands. She sits across from me, her smile soft and warm.

"Let's start with something simple," she says. "Tell me about yourself. What do you do in life?"

I try to answer, but my words sound robotic. Choked with emotion, I often pause to breathe. She listens, sometimes smiling or nodding, trying to comfort me.

As time passes strangely, I begin to wonder: what's going on?

I gather my courage. I ask her, in a faint voice, "Why am I here?"

She smiles, a mysterious grin as if she knows everything. She leans in, her gaze cutting through me.

"Why, you ask?" she replies. "Your screams were so loud, I couldn't ignore them. They struck me. I wondered: who is this guy? Is he always this passionate?"

Her words confuse and frighten me. I try to respond and find meaning, but she interrupts.

"I wanted to know if you're like that... on every occasion."

I can't hold back the question: "In what sense on every occasion?"

She laughs, a soft, musical sound, and stands up. She looks down at me, her expression unreadable.

"Must I explain everything to you?"

…

Then, with a slow and deliberate gesture, she lets her silk robe slip.

I'm left without words. Thoughts vanish, leaving room for what I see. She is there, completely naked. At that instant, she appears taller, almost daunting. Her presence is striking.

I freeze, unable to look away. The sight before me blends beauty, strength, and vulnerability. Words fail to capture it. I feel tiny and unworthy, yet also privileged to be in his presence.

She takes a step closer, tilting her head slightly. 

"Now, tell me," she whispers, her voice a faint murmur. "You really are so passionate... always?"

I'm completely stuck. I can't move at all. She's right in front of me, beautiful and out of reach, yet so real. Meanwhile, a storm of thoughts and uncontrollable emotions fills my head.

In a faint, nearly broken voice, I finally managed to say:

"I... I'm not so convinced that I want to do it."

She looks at me, a bit surprised, tilting her head as if to understand more. I continue, trying to organize my thoughts.

"I love you. Every day, I dream of our life together. I imagine perfect moments and a future with you. But now, being so close to you... I see I'm not ready."

My voice falters. I look down, unable to meet her intense gaze. I feel vulnerable, not in a physical sense, but in an emotional one. All my insecurities seem to be laid bare.

…

A long silence follows. I think she'll walk away, be disappointed, or say something to break our fragile bond. Instead, she surprises me by coming closer. She kneels down to my level and, with unexpected kindness, lifts my chin with two fingers.

"It's okay," he says with a gentle, understanding smile. "Don't feel guilty. I admire your courage to be honest."

She looks at me and smiles sweetly, as if understanding something I can't yet express. Then, she approaches slowly and places her warm, reassuring hand on mine.

"But let me guide you," she says in a soft, almost whispered voice. 

Before I can reply, she makes me stand up with a gentle, firm nudge. Her closeness is striking, and her scent, both delicate and intoxicating, fills the air. My thoughts are jumbled, yet I can't look away.

She carefully starts to unbutton my shirt. Her fingers graze my skin, causing a shiver. Each move is intentional and unhurried, giving me time to adjust.

She moves to my waistband and looks up at me. Her eyes are full of desire. She then says with sincerity, "I want you."

Her voice is calm yet firm, and her words have a profound impact on me. It's as if she echoed what I couldn't say. My mind wants to resist, but my heart and body have decided.

She beckons me to the bed with a soft but resolute gesture. I feel overwhelmed but at ease. It's as if her every move calms me. Her hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if time has stopped. I let go of my hesitation.

When our lips touch, we feel desire, passion, and something deeper I can't name. Every gesture and glance hint at a deeper connection. It's something I've never experienced before.

Her fingers glide down my spine, blending electricity with calm. In that moment, it's just us. Pure intimacy wipes away all barriers.

…

My penis is already completely erect. She takes it in her hands, stroking it fast, without hesitation and without a moment to breathe. "You like it, don't you?" I can't help but nod. Then she sees I'm already about to cum.

"No, you can't cum so soon. I want something in return first."

She lies down, opens her legs, and invites me between her thighs. I'm wary, but I get closer. I lick her belly, then kiss her lips and caress her thighs. I hear her moaning with pleasure, which excites me and brings me closer to orgasm. However, when I try to insert a finger, she stops me, saying, "It's still early for this."

She comes towards me and lowers her head on my penis, starting to lick the tip. She kisses it along its entire length. With her fingers, she caresses my balls. Then, suddenly, she takes it all in her mouth. My excitement is too much, and I don't last even a moment.

As soon as she deepthroats, I cum, making her swallow. Surprisingly, she doesn't hold back. Instead, she stays there a bit longer, then pulls up, licks her lips, and kisses me.

She looks at me with her beautiful eyes. "You didn't last long, but it was delicious. Let's try to do better from now on."

I don't know if she's joking, but her words and face only excite me more. I immediately have a new erection.

…

She takes a condom from the bedside table, then she asks if I need help putting it on. I certainly can't refuse.

She opens it, puts it on her lips, and slides it onto my cock, once again taking it entirely in her mouth.

I gently touch her thighs again and ask if she's ready. She nods. Then, I move closer to her on the bed and bring myself near her.

I rub my cock between her lips to lubricate it with her juices. She's already soaked. She urges, "Come on, I want to feel you." Don't tell me twice. I penetrate her hard, my balls slamming against her body. Then, I start to push faster.

She's tight but welcoming, and she had no problem taking my cock. "Yes! Yes! Let me feel it more!" Her screams and moans excite me more and more. The feel of her skin rubbing against mine and my sweat dripping onto her belly drives me closer. But I don't want this to end. I want her to enjoy it too. So, I slow down and start teasing her with my fingers.

I gently touch her nipples, then squeeze them, making her scream each time. I feel her getting wetter. She urges me on, "Yes! Keep it up! I want you!" I speed up. With one hand, I squeeze her ass cheek and lean down to kiss her neck.

"I'm coming!" Her orgasm shakes her, tightening around me. After a few seconds, I cum too, and lie on her, remaining still inside.

…

She kisses my neck and ears. Then, she says, "Show me the same spirit as this afternoon." My body ignites again. Soon, I'm erect and ready to continue after changing the condom.

I want to take her from behind. This time, I don't ask. I lift her up and turn her prone on the bed, with her face in the pillow, her ankles crossed, and her thighs squeezed tight.

I'm deep inside her, feeling her tighten. I start pressing her head with one hand; she moans and breathes fast. My balls hit her pussy, dripping even more. Meanwhile, with the other hand, I slap her butt.

She lifts her head. "Stop for a moment," she says. Frightened I'd done something wrong, I freeze, as if petrified. She sits up, freeing herself from my weight. "You don't have any diseases, right? I'm on the pill and today is safe. So, why not take off your hood?"

I hesitate, then she approaches and removes it. "I want to feel you cumming inside me," she says, bending over. I don't need more encouragement. I penetrate her again, but more gently this time. Then, I touch her breasts, teasing her nipples once more.

They are very sensitive. Every time I squeeze them, she moans, almost screaming, with a mix of pain and pleasure. I kiss her whole back. I put a finger in her mouth. With my other hand, I stimulate her clitoris. "Why not add two fingers?" she suggests. I agree, sliding them in with my penis. It gets tighter, and she seems to enjoy it even more.

Quickly, my orgasm builds up again. I slow down, wanting her to cum too. I caress her thighs, sliding my fingers up and down from her pubis. I straighten her back to kiss her and take a breast in my mouth.

I sense she is close. Her moans grow louder. I speed up again, penetrating her with all my force. Her orgasm shakes her, and I fill her with my seed. It petrifies her for a moment; then she falls forward onto the bed.

…

I have already cum three times. My erection won't go down. The desire is so strong it seems it can go on forever.

I want to savor her breasts. I want to taste her sweat and her intoxicating scent. I part her legs again, this time focusing not on her pussy but on her backside. Her asshole is beautiful and tight, igniting my desire to fuck it.

I asked her, "Have you ever used the other hole?" She replied, "No, I've always been too scared." I said, "Tonight is the night to face your fears."

So, I go straight with the tip to caress her puckered asshole. I try to push in, using only my cum and juices from her vagina as lube.

At first, I only feel pain. Then, her hands grip my hips, nails digging in. I finally get the tip in. It seems the hardest part is over.

We both moan in pleasure. Yet, I crave more. I lower my arms, pull her close, pressing her body against mine, feeling the warmth of her body and kissing her. Now, I can penetrate her halfway. I kiss, then bite her lips and neck.

Her cries of pain and moans of pleasure excite me. I penetrate her with more and more vehemence, as if I were a dog.

Yes, I'm a dog and she's my owner. I've always pictured our relationship this way. She's a princess, and I'm just common. I want her to command me. I'll be happy only if I get attention and compliments from her.

She, the perfect mistress, felt the same. So, she yelled, "Yes! Yes! I love how you fuck my ass. Do it harder! I want to feel you inside me. I want our bodies to merge into one."

Desire intensifies with each thrust. I plunge deeper, fully sheathed. Her cries crescendo as pleasure builds. We climax in unison, her quivering body amplifying my own release.

I cum copiously in her ass, with my penis coming out with a sound like a jar uncorking.

As I withdraw, spent and softening, Wonyoung collapses onto the mattress. Exhausted, we lie still, catching our breath in the aftermath.

…

I look at the clock: it's four in the morning. The room is in a muffled half-light. The only sound is her slow, regular breathing as she falls asleep.

She is lying on the bed, her hair tousled and an expression of quiet serenity on her face. She is exhausted. I briefly lose myself, trying to imprint the scene in my memory like a perfect painting. 

I get up slowly, being careful not to make any noise. My movements are slow and measured, almost ceremonial. I enter the bathroom, turn on a dim light, and look at myself in the mirror. The face I see is different. It's marked by new emotions: ecstasy, confusion, and a creeping melancholy I can't stop.

I dress in silence, fighting with every gesture against the desire to stay there forever. But I know I can't. She is now fast asleep. For a moment, it seems surreal to be here, in her room, in her life, even if only for one night.

I step outside, closing the door slowly. I hold my breath, fearing noise might ruin something precious. In the hallway, my heart feels heavy. It's as if I'm leaving a part of myself behind. Yet, I keep walking, pushing away emotions that want to keep me there.

---

On the same day as my return flight, Paris fades away. So does the magic that had surrounded me for those few hours. In the following days, I feel like I'm in a dream. I can't stop thinking about our time together. Her looks, words, and every moment matter. Now, nothing else seems important. Everything feels empty and small.

After about a week, I pick up the photos I took of her during Fashion Week. With a strange calm, I start working on them, taking care of every detail as if they were a work of art. When I'm satisfied, I post them on Instagram. Likes and comments come fast, but they don't distract me. I'm caught between reality and her memory.

A few days later, something unexpected happens. My phone buzzes. It's a message request. The sender? A profile that seems like a bot, with an anonymous name. For a moment, I think of ignoring it or eliminating it, but out of curiosity, I open it. 

My heart stops. There is a photo: a selfie taken that night. Wonyoung and I, our faces close, the smiles complicit and disarmed. It's amazing to think that she did it without me realizing it. 

Under the photo, a message:

"Hey, when do you want to meet me again?"

I seem to hear her voice as I read those words. A smile forms on my lips, and for the first time in days, the emptiness I feel inside begins to fill.

[hearts-4-vicky]

on my soul that anon needa stfu nd take ts elsewhere..

real… LETS CALM IT DOWN BUDDY😞😞😞

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hiiiii could you do a fic where reader is pregnant for the first time? I need more soft!young president coriolanus so so bad

Soft as Snow || Young President!Coriolanus snow x reader

A/n: thank you for this request anon!! I need more soft coryo too 🥹

Warnings: fem!reader, mention of death

Wc: 860

Divider by @firefly-graphics

In the opulent sun room of the presidential mansion that you call your home, you sat in a plush chair with a bowl of fresh lychee perched carefully on your pregnant belly. The brightly lit room, adorned with decadent furnishings, seemed to reflect the weight of the world you carried not only as the First Lady but also as a soon-to-be-mother.

The door cracked open and Coriolanus entered with an air of authority that seemed to dissipate as he laid eyes on you, his precious wife. Coryo gestured the servants to leave the two of you alone as his steely gaze softened, and a small, genuine smile graced his lips as he approached.

"May I?" he gestured toward the empty space on the chair beside you. You nodded with an eager smile and he took a seat, his eyes fixed on your protruding belly which was covered by the softness of your silk dress. Gently, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "How are you feeling, my love?"

His voice, usually reserved and commanding to people outside of his inner circle, held a tenderness and softness that sent a comforting shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but smile at the sincerity in his question.

"I'm well, Coryo. Our baby seems to be quite content by these lychees," You chuckle as your rub your stomach. Coryo smiles, lychees were a rare fruit to come by this time of year but he made sure that you were fed only the most juiciest, ripe, lychees.

"I'm glad," he hums. His hand finds its way to your belly, fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of your dress, ghosting over your skin underneath. "It's a remarkable thing, life," he mused, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—awe, anticipation, and a hint of vulnerability.

You watch him knowing where his mind was at. The thought of his mother dying during birth along with his baby sister. You knew that he was scared. Scared that maybe you would have the same fate as his late mother. But you assured Coryo, that times have changed and that you would be alright.

The weight of his responsibilities seemed to momentarily fade as he focused on you and the life growing inside you. Your fingers dipped into the fruit bowl, a lychee in between your fingers as you bring it to your lips, Coriolanus watching with fascination. The atmosphere hung in a delicate balance, as if time itself had slowed down to savour this tranquil interlude.

"Have you thought about names," he asked, breaking the silence. You chuckled softly, the sound echoing through the room, "I have actually. Vicky," you watch Snow's features contort into a mixture of emotions.

"Vicky. like my mothers-" "Yes, like your mother's name." You interrupt him as your thumb brushes over the back of his hand, a comforting gesture that spoke volumes. "I love it. Vicky Snow," He says with a smile on his face.

As you continued to share the bowl of fruit, the conversation drifted from politics to dreams, hopes and the shared future that awaited your family. Coriolanus, a man known for his strategic mind and politics, revealed a more vulnerable side, a side reserved for you, his wife carrying his child.

Time slipped away, and the room glowered in the soft hues of twilight. Coriolanus stood, his eyes lingering on you with an affectionate gaze. "I've got state matters to deal with, my dear. Just know, you and our child are always on my mind."

~

Days turned into weeks, and the swell of your belly grew more pronounced. The Capitol buzzed with excitement over the impending arrival of the newest member of the Snow legacy. Coriolanus, ever the stoic leader, became a pillar of support, attending to your needs with a grace that contradicted his ruthless reputation.

One evening, as the two of you stood on the balcony overlooking the Capitol, he wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting protectively on your belly. The lights of the city below shimmered like a sea of stars, and for a moment, it felt like the world paused to witness the union of power and vulnerability.

As the days dwindled down to the eagerly anticipated arrival, Coriolanus stood by your side, a beacon of strength. The birthing room, stark and sterile, contrasted sharply with the opulence of the Capitol. Yet, in that space, you found an intimacy that transcended the political stage.

The first cry of your newborn filled the room, and Coriolanus held the tiny bundle in his arms with a reverence that bordered on awe. His usually composed demeanor crumbled, replaced by the unfiltered joy of fatherhood.

"She's so beautiful, just like her mother," He whispers, his eyes never leaving the small face nestled in his arms. "Thank you, thank you for gifting me a gift beyond measure," Coryo looks at you as you couldn't help but let a teardrop roll down your cheek as you gazed at the future you had brought into the word.

You couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected beauty that had blossomed in the heart of the Capitol's calculated power.

[wileys-russo]

Hello writer , hope you are doing well

Missing my little star pollito , so a prompt for her pollito with mapi / barca team in team bonding night at mapi and ingrid apartment "move, you're on my side of the couch."

part of the pollito universe and also a little collab with @woso-dreamzzz OC 'mignon' because i got a few asks for it! my side II barça femeni

you perked up as alexia parked in mapi and ingrid's complex, but before you could even touch the door handle you heard the locks click and groaned, collapsing back into your seat.

"now you two-" alexia began an infamous lecture, your french counterpart sat in the front seat after winning the fight for it even though she fought dirty and hid your phone so she could sneak out to the car first.

"-will be on our very best behaviour, we promise." mignon piped up with a charming smile, alexia glancing backward to look at you and narrowing her eyes at the near identical look on your face as you nodded your enthusastic agreement.

"we ran all of our energy out at training capi." you paused to fake an overly dramatic yawn, stretching your arms backward and exhaling making mignon snicker and alexia hum through pursed lips.

"pollito did anyway after all those extra laps." the girl smirked as your smile dropped and you leaned forward to try and smack her, alexia catching your wrist easily in her hand with a fierce glare.

"this is what i mean! pareja de idiotas." alexia warned as you pulled your wrist away, sneakily using your other hand to dart through the small gap between the door and the chair to pinch your best friends hips as she jolted as if shocked by lightning.

"pollito!" alexia sighed, rubbing her face with her hands as you sheltered your body from the two arms flailing about trying to grab at you.

"oye why do you not stop her! first she is allowed to live by herself and i am not, and now she can hit me but i cannot hit her?" you accused, hissing as the french girl landed a sharp smack on your shin and cursing at her in spanish.

"we are not having this argument again. out! both of you." alexia raised her voice as the pair of you started to bicker, the locks clicking once more as the two of you practically fell out of the car and alexia mumbled a prayer under her breath, locking up and hurrying after the two of you into the building.

she could finally exhale as ingrid answered the door and the two of you shot inside and made a beeline for the other younger girls on the team, the monthly team game night already in full swing as you three were the last to arrive it would seem.

ingrid gave her captain a knowing smile as she welcomed her inside with a hug, closing the door as alexia made her way around with greetings, as she always did as such a natural leader, wanting all of the newer players to feel welcome.

you and mignon on the other hand hadn't bothered, you tackling vicky into a hug which had rapidly turned into the two of you rolling about on the floor wrestling and mignon chattering away to jana.

mapi stood up and let out a piercing whistle which had everyone paying attention and some grumbling with hands over their ears, the zaragozana grinning happily at the mixed reaction she received.

announcing everyone was going to eat before any games started mapi barely finished speaking before everyone was already charging toward the kitchen where ingrid and frido had started dishing up.

not having eaten anything since training you were near ravenous, having chosen to take a well needed nap as soon as you got home, not even making it all the way to bed as you passed out on the couch and woke up to olga telling alexia off for over working you.

to be fair, you'd earned the extra laps she pushed you to do after training, you and mapi having tied everyones boots together when you arrived early before everyone else after mapi took you out for a coffee as the pair of you did every friday.

however your good food fueled mood halted as you arrived back to the couch and found mignon sat in your spot, which she clearly knew given the grin she gave you as your eyes narrowed.

"move, you're on my side of the couch." you warned firmly, cata oohing from where she sat on mignons other side as the french woman shook her head. "no, snooze you lose." she parroted as you pulled a face.

"who taught you that!" you scoffed as the girl nodded toward kika and your eyes rolled. "move, you know thats my side." you repeated again, having claimed the spot as yours from the moment you first came to visit mapi and ingrid.

"no." "déplacer!" you huffed in french now making her grin widen. "no."

"vale." you seemed to give in, sighing and moving to put your plate down on the table as if to sit on the floor, alexia catching your eye across the room and recognizing the look on your face all too well which the girl sat in your spot hadn't quite seen yet.

"pollito-" you heard the catalan call out sternly as she started toward you but it was too late as you let out a war cry and charged, cata's keeper instincts kicking in as she leapt to grab mignons plate milliseconds before you landed on her.

the thump alerted half the team to the scuffle as you managed to drag the slightly taller ex lyon player out of your spot, trying to claw your way back to reclaim it but her hand grabbed the back of your hoodie and yanked you down.

"jusqu'au français!" you hollered in french, teetering on top of mignon before you let out a squeal and she'd thrown you off, alexia's eyes wide as saucers as neither you or mignon had noticed but your head missed the corner of the coffee table by centimetres.

"hey hey capi! my house, i will handle it." mapi appeared in front of alexia who was still charging her way over, dodging and weaving between the multitude of bodies scattered across the floor.

"but-" "no no, you go sit down, eat." mapi assured, patting her best friends shoulder and waving off her concerns, alexia hovering back as the spaniard turning on heel and marched her way over to the pair of you.

you grunted as a hand grabbed the back of your neck, hauling you off of the girl you'd been rolling around with, holding you back as mapi cleared her throat and both you and mignon paused.

"if the pair of you want to fight-" you sighed, bracing yourself to be kicked out or worse embarrassed into a timeout like a nughty child, however the lecture you and mignon expected never came.

"you will do it properly. i will be the referee and keep it fair, which means no spitting, no punching, no arm bars, no biting-" alexia sighed deeply and buried her face in her hands as irene patted her back.

"-now place your bets chicas, fight starts in five! francia contra españa!"

[pitchsidestories]

the wish II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1340

summary: Mapi and Ingrid are looking for a special gift to give it reader for Christmas. requested

author's note: dear readers, we hope @briggtea and you all will enjoy the wholesome oneshot. 💜💜

You smiled when you saw the sign on the door that said they were filming for a social media post outside on the pitch. Those videos were always a lot of fun. You never knew what the question of the day would be when you walked out to training, it kept you on your toes.

You opened the door curiously, excited to answer whatever the social media department came up with.

“Bon dia, girls. I’ve a question for you. What was your favourite football shirt as a child?”

The question made your face light up immediately. Childhood memories of yourself watching hours upon hours of football flooded your brain. You wanted to be exactly like your idols, so you begged for their shirts for birthdays and Christmases every year.

Mapi who walked out in front of you didn’t hesitate and winked at the camera: “Puyol for me.“

“Any Barcelona one for me too.“, Ellie replied politely before turning towards you, “What about you, y/n?”

You thought about it for a moment, trying to find the perfect answer: “I’m afraid I don’t really have a favourite but there was one I always wanted and never got.“

“Tell us.“, Ellie demanded with a big grin.

“But that wasn’t the point of the question, was it?”, you smirked.

“Doesn’t matter, keep going.“, directed the social media manager.

You shrugged and finally revealed: “I always wanted a Marta jersey.“

As you were about to continue to walk towards the pitch, Ingrid appeared by your side. She studied your side profile with watchful eyes: “Was there a special reason? I mean to why you didn’t get it?”

You shook your head: “No, I just never got it.“

A plain and simple explanation now but when you were young, you were heartbroken about the fact. You adored everything the Brazilian did, from her skills to the way she spoke about women’s football.

She was so good that she was even recognised by male football players at a time when the sport was still target of a lot of ridicule. For you, she was the greatest football player ever back then. In fact, you still looked up to her today.

“That’s sad. Alexia, Caro, Ona? What were your favourite shirts growing up?”, the social media manager moved on to the next players that left the dressing room.

“Mine was Messi!”, Vicky yelled from behind them to which Alexia only rolled her eyes.

“Messi, of course. I loved my Ronaldinho one.“, the captain with a nostalgic smile on her lips.

Vicky frowned at her: “Who?”

“You don’t know who Ronaldinho is?!”, Alexia and you synchronously asked with dismay.

“Just kidding.“, the young player laughed.

You shook your head about her: “Can’t believe you’d joke about something like that!”

“I know. That’s why I had to.“, she smirked back.

“You’ll get that back.”, Alexia warned her with a mischievous twinkle in her hazel eyes. The captain already busy thinking about what she could do to return the joke.

While your team warmed up, Mapi bumped her arm softly into your girlfriend’s side to receive her attention. “You know what, Ingrid?”

“What?”, the Norwegian frowned.

“I think I’ve the perfect idea for y/n’s Christmas present this year.”, the older defender told her proudly.

Mid exercise Ingrid stopped moving, eagerly waiting for her lover to continue: “Tell me.”

“A Brazil Marta jersey.”, Mapi whispered because you were nearby, but luckily too focused on the training to hear what they were saying.

The taller woman’s face lit up in delight at the Spaniard’s suggestion: “That’s a great idea. I’m sure we can get her an original one even and she’ll love it.”

“I hope so.”, the heavily tattooed defender replied optimistically.

The weeks before Christmas were hectic, but at times beautiful, for example, when you strolled with the Barcelona team around Gamla stan, Stockholm’s old town which was prettily decorated for the festive season.

During the walk Mapi couldn’t stop taking photos of her surroundings including Ingrid and you. Memories forever captured on camera film.

The Christmas days the three of you spend in Norway, close to Ingrid’s family, the New Years Eve you all would be back in Spain to celebrate the arrival of 2025 with your friends.

For a moment you looked at the window, watching the snowflakes dance in front of it. Your girlfriends and you already had a delicious evening dinner.

Now it was the time to unpack the presents which lay underneath the Christmas tree. All three of you were filled with giddy excitement and couldn’t wait to see the reaction of your loves when they’d open what you gifted them.

“Okay, who’s starting to unpack the first present.”, you clapped excitedly into your hands.

A bright grin was formed on Mapi’s lips as she volunteered, she was fully covered in the warmest blanket to keep herself warm: “I’ll start.”

“This is from y/n and me.”, Ingrid explained solemnly handing her the beautifully and careful wrapped box.

Once the Spaniard glanced into the insides, she glanced up in awe. “You girls are the cutest. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. We spotted this and immediately thought that’s so Maria.”, you hummed.

In a pleasant tone the Norwegian added: “And we know you love everything coffee related.”

Both of you knew that the older defenders love for coffee ran so deep she even got it permanently inked to her skin. On a rare free day, you three loved to spend your time in trying out new coffeeshops.

“I’ll be on coffee duty tomorrow morning to try this out.”, Mapi decided cheerfully.

“We hoped you’d say that.”, you chuckled.

“Of course, you two did.”, she smiled amusedly.

Clearing your throat you quickly changed the topic:” Ingrid, you’re next.”

The Norwegian started to unwrap her present patiently, folding the paper neatly until it revealed a dainty golden necklace.

“Oh my god, girls. You didn’t need to. Thank you so much.“

“You’re welcome, amor.“, Mapi said softly as she helped her put the necklace on.

“You deserve it.“, you agreed.

“I really appreciate it.“, Ingrid beamed.

You both leaned over to simultaneously press kisses to her cheeks which made Ingrid immediately turn red.

“So I guess it’s my turn now.“, you finally said, pulling the only gift left under the tree into your lap.

Mapi nodded with excitement: “Yes, open it!”

You could feel your breath hitch when you saw a sliver of yellow fabric peaking out from the wrapping paper. It couldn’t be. There was no way.

“It’s a Marta jersey!”, you finally confirmed delighted, holding up the Brazil shirt.

Ingrid nodded, pointing at the back with your idols name and number on it: “It’s even signed.“

“No way!”

“Do you like it?”, Mapi asked impatiently.

You shook your head, lost for words. The little girl inside of you was jumping with joy and you suddenly felt emotional for her. “No. I love it. You know when we were kids, we only had male role models and Marta was the first female one for me…“

“And now you finally have her shirt.“, Ingrid concluded.

“Thank you so much. This might be the most thoughtful present I’ve ever received.“, you said as you blinked away the upcoming tears.

“Admittedly we had some help with it.“, Mapi laughed lightheartedly.

“From our fellow football friends?”, you asked.

Ingrid nodded: “Special thanks to Geyse.“

“And our social media team for asking you that question.“, Mapi added.

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to slip the shirt over your Christmas sweater. You pulled your two girlfriends into a tight hug: “Thank you, sweethearts. This might be one of my favourite gifts ever.“

“We’re glad you like it.“, Mapi smiled and gently kissed you forehead. “Look, it started to snow again!”

“This is beautiful.“, you said while staring out the window where big snowflakes fell, starting to cover Ingrids hometown in a layer of white.

Ingrid pulled you and Mapi in towards her as you stood there and watched on: “It truly couldn’t be anymore perfect than this.“

Christmas/Winter Oneshots

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