#what i mean is please sit on my fa-

[y13evie]

a jealous man

miguel o’hara x fem! reader

tags: talks of pregnancy, reader gets catcalled, lots of cum LMFAO, some spanish terms, very dirty

miguel o’hara is very possessive about what’s his. so when you’re out on a date and some rando decides to comment on how your ass looks in that little dress, miguel doesn’t take it lightly. after dealing with the no longer-apart-of-this-earth random, miguel the both of you into the car and not a work is spoken that whole car ride home. you knew miguel was a jealous man but god. the grip he had on your wrist as you entered your shared apartment was lethal. you could tell that as soon as he shut the door to your bedroom that it wasn’t gonna be pretty.

no words are exchanged as he begins to unbutton his dress pants and rip his shirt off. you try to smooth him a bit, placing a hand against his cheek.

“miguel, i’m okay. i’m all yours. forever.”

your words are nothing but background noise as he quite harshly sits you onto his thigh. he unzips your dress and pulls it over your head, making quick work to undo your bra aswell. the way he takes one of your breasts in his mouth so hastily makes you gasp. you quickly wrap your arms around his neck, keeping yourself steady on his muscular thigh. without even trying, you’re subconsciously grinding your pussy against him. slowly getting faster and faster. miguel takes notice to this and puts it to end quickly despite your whines.

“cariño, i wanna make you feel good tonight. make you understand who you belong to.” he whispers against your neck. a strong hold on your waist as he stands up and flips your back onto the bed. for a moment, he just stands there. his beautiful girl, all spread open right infront of him. your plush skin hot due to the intensity of the moment. when he snaps back to reality he quickly gets rid of the thong that had been keeping him from your entrance. miguel’s cock is leaking in his own boxers, which he takes off and slowly strokes himself.

“are you ready, my love?”.

you nod in response. he lines himself up with your pussy and enters you inch by inch. a slur of swears leaves his mouth as you suck him in greedily. once miguel bottoms out he does it all again. increasing the pace what seems like each second. skin on skin, he leans down and whispers into your ear.

“all mine. you belong with me. nobody else can make you feel this good.”

his words cause you to clench around his cock, earning a loud groan from him. your moans increase in volume each time he hits the most sensitive part of your walls. you can’t help but make deep scratches down his back, crying out how good he makes you feel. he nuzzles his face into your neck to get as close as possible to you. he hears your heartbeat, feels the blood warming up your body. he’s obsessed with you. the closeness seems to send you over the edge. you cum all over miguel’s length, whining when his excruciating pace doesn’t falter.

it takes no time for the overstimulation to take complete control of all your senses. tears begin to well up in the corner of your eyes. “miguel ‘ts too much please”, you beg for him to have some mercy and slow down. he doesn’t. he needs you to know exactly who you belong to. you squirm around as your body tries to comprehend whether the sensation is pain or pleasure. your cries begin to increase in volume as miguel gets rougher, nearing his own finish.

“tell me you want me to fill you up with my cum, tell me amor”. he commands you to beg for him. you’re too cockdrunk to even understand what he’s saying, so he repeats himself. grabbing your face this time.

“tell me what you want hermosa”. his eye contact is deep, you know he wants you to plead. you give him exactly what he wants.

“please miguel. fill m’ up with your cum please. i need you. i need to be filled with you” your face reddens with a hint of embarrassment, but you mean every word you said. you’d be lying if you didn’t think about how you looked with your tummy filled with one of his kids. what a cute family you two would create together.

he listens to your pleads and cums deep instead you. panting as if he’s just run a marathon. miguel’s hair is sticking to his face and sweat makes his features shine. he looks stunning. it’s safe to say he thinks the same about you. he admires your face contorting in pleasure and wish you two could stay like this forever. but you can’t. he carefully pulls out and the bed dips as he lay down next to you. a comfortable silences fills the room as you both come down from the moment. miguel however, has one thing to get off his chest.

“how would you like to be a mama?”

[hysteria-things]

ok hear me out… matt or chris x reader and nate threesome😮‍💨😮‍💨

also (kinda) based off of this

EYES WIDE OPEN

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate, dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: nate tells his best friend about what you two did on prom night, and it ends up with him showing chris how it’s done.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, swearing, p in v, fingering, some praising/degrading, hair pulling, dumbification, ROUGHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,634

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry it’s late please still love me🙏

“you do know i fucked her right?” nate tells chris, pointing to the bathroom door just down the hallway.

“what?” chris questions, crossing his legs and looking over to his best friend.

you’re fixing yourself up in the restroom, and somehow, the boys start discussing how you have the most obvious crush on chris.

chris’ brother nick is your best friend and you practically grew up with them. since you’re a year younger, you’ve gotten close with nate being that he’s the same age as you.

you went to prom together senior year of high school, but it wasn’t serious. it was as friends.

chris chuckles, darting his eyes around the room. he may or may not have wondering eyes for you too, but he can never act on it. he’s one of your best friends, for god sake. “when?”

smirking, nate gets comfier in his seat. “after prom. remember when i said i couldn’t come over because my mom needed me home? i lied.”

his mind wanders, thinking back to what you were like in his backseat.

the rain sounds soothing on the car windows. the parking lot is empty, with only one streetlight illuminating in the distance.

lips smacking together in need, you grind on nate’s now growing hard-on through his dress pants. his tie is untied, his blazer thrown to the front seat with some of his shirt buttons undone.

nate’s hands roam up and down your body, gripping your ass each time he brings them to that part of you. he then starts to unzip his pants, pulling them down past his thighs along with his underwear.

the fluffy area of your dress is bunched above your hips, giving you easy access to nate’s dick. when he starts to pull your underwear to the side, you pull away and whine. “it’s too big.”

he chuckles, holding your hips to guide you down. the expanse is painful, but you tilt your head and moan nonetheless.

you wrap your arms around his neck and start to rock your hips slowly, whimpering and whining each time you move forward.

“there you go, just like that. i knew you could take it.”

he snaps out of it and sighs. “you need to see it for yourself one day.” nate suggests, taking a sip of his water. “she’s a good fuck, man.”

chris looks at his friend like he’s insane. “why are you telling me this, dude?”

“because you need to get laid.” he points out.

chris scoffs. “i don’t need to get laid.”

nate crosses his arms and eyes him, seeing right through his bullshit. “when’s the last time you hooked up with a girl?”

staying silent, that gives him his answer. “exactly.”

the bathroom door shuts, the sound of your footsteps coming back to the living room. “sorry, guys. i didn’t mean to take so long.” you giggle, sitting back down next to nate. they both eye you up and down, and you feel a little— no. very intimidated.

“do you remember prom night?” nate asks out of the blue, your eyes widening slightly.

“of course.” you start. “it was fun. why?”

he and chris both get up, the atmosphere feeling closed in around your body when they both hover over you. you gulp.

“do you remember when i fucked you?” nate asks, and your face heats up instantly. chris is standing right there. nobody is supposed to know about what happened with you two that night.

“i need to show chris here what he’s missing out on.” he continues, nodding his head to the right where he’s standing. “want to help me out?”

before you can answer, he cups your cheeks and kisses you with passion, laying you down back flat on the couch. you pout when he pulls away to remove your shirt. chris is now standing by the far wall to watch.

why don’t you question it? you have no idea. why do you enjoy it? also no idea.

he takes off his shorts and top, throwing them on the ground before his knees dip into the sofa at your sides. without warning, he takes his fingers and places them into your bottoms.

nodding to silently prove his point, he turns to chris. “she’s wet already.”

he practically rips off your shorts as you squirm, feeling embarrassed before he starts to rub your clit with two of his digits. gasping, you throw your head back. he moves them in a circular motion. you start to pant when he changes up the movements, either going hard or slow. “nate.” you whine, clit getting red from the penetration.

he takes one of the fingers and starts pumping it deep inside you, the other one still where it was before. your body jerks each time he pumps his finger into your hole, eyes starting to cross and tongue just about escaping your lips. “see how those pretty eyes roll back?” he teases. “i’m barely doing anything and she’s becoming a dripping mess.”

chris swallowed when his boner tightened in his pants, eyes not leaving your face of pleasure. nate adds the second finger, moving faster and curling them to hit one of the spots you love.

you moan loudly, closing your legs before they’re forcefully opened. “look at your little crush getting hard at the sight of ya. wishing he was the one who got to you first instead of me.”

chris pouts, frantically pulling down his pants to start jerking off at the sight. he moans at the way you’re looking at him through hooded eyes not helping with his erection.

“i’m-i’m going to cum, nate.” you mewl, squealing when you say his name.

“oh yeah? you going to cum around my fingers to show chris what he can never do?” he mocks, chris rolling his eyes. you whimper out yeses as your eyelids start to well up with tears. you cry out different curses, legs quivering from the stimulation.

the moment your orgasm drips down his hand, he puts his arms under your armpits and grips your shoulders. he leans so his bare chest is touching yours. “if you’re lucky.” he starts, hammering into you with no warning whatsoever. you gasp, the way he’s positioned making him deeper than ever. “you can pull another one out of ‘em.”

you scratch at his biceps, moaning and yelping while your body rocks so hard that the couch starts to squeak. “nathan! you feel so g-good!” you scream, the knot already coming back.

“you missed this, didn’t you?”

“mhm!” your mouth hangs open, clenching so hard on his dick it’s like you can feel every vein. it’s embarrassing how fast the coil tightens in your abdomen. “i’m cumming! ngh— oh my god.”

clamping down like a vice on his cock, you shake violently at how much you cum. he pulls out, flipping you over onto your stomach and getting up. this gives you time to breathe.

“your turn.” he tells chris, who’s leaking pre-cum out of his slit.

your eyes widen, pushing yourself up before chris grabs your hips and pins them down. nate grasps onto your hair and forces you to look at him. “eyes better not leave mine, princess. i want to see how fucked dumb you get.”

you wince at how hard he pulled. “w-wait! it’s too mu—” your eyebrows furrow and your mouth agape when chris enters you with ease because of how wet and aroused you are, completely cutting you off.

since you’re laid flat, the angle he’s hitting is deeper than nate’s. hoarsely moaning, chris’ hips pound fast, your ass slapping against his thighs.

nate’s tip lands on your tongue, fucking it to get to his high since he wasn’t able to get to it when he was fucking you.

it takes a second for your cunt to morph into chris’s dick. you’re still dazed from before, but since you’re getting filled again, you’re practically brain-dead at this point.

“y-you’re so big! ah—” you whimper, and he smirks. nate rolls his eyes. “you hear that? the slut said i’m big.”

“shut up.” nate bites back, painting your face with his sticky cum, smearing it on your mouth and chin. “so beautiful.”

you fight for your life to not have your eyes roll back, moaning uncontrollably since it feels like you can’t speak anymore.

he moves hard, grunting each time you close in around him. man, he missed doing this with girls. your nails dig into the arm of the couch, still staring into nate’s dark eyes. your mouth moves as if it’s saying words, but nothing comes out. you’re blabbing nothing. “look at that. you’ve fucked her even more stupid. well done.”

chris sighs annoyingly, looking down at the way your pussy engulfs him. “i know how to fuck girls, nate.”

whimpering, the fabric of the cushion rubs gently against your clit, squeezing tight around him so that it catches him off guard. “cum.” you sob quietly. “i-i’m going to cum.”

that alone has him going at an animalistic pace, tears staining your cheeks. “you’re on the pill right?” he asks, twitching between your walls when he hits your g-spot.

you nod, releasing for the third time tonight as he starts to get to his orgasm. “thank fuck. i’m not pulling out of this perfect pussy.”

thrusting in one last time, he stops to shoot his load nice and good into your cunt. nate let’s go of your hair, your head immediately plopping over the edge.

he’s already dressed, and chris gets up to do the same. they look at each other, smirking. “we did good.” nate says.

“yes we did.” chris replies the both of them looking at how your face is coated with cum and how your folds flutter, leaking and making a mess below you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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[chuuyascumsock]

Bury Beneath this Filth they Call Skin and Turn it into a Garden || MINORS DNI

Summary: I made a hurt/comfort fic for Chuuya, I might as well make a comfort fic for Dazai too cause he’s my soft spot.

Tags: Dazai Osamu/Reader, GN reader, Angst, Comfort, No One Is Safe, Mentions Of Self Sabotaging, Self-deprecating Thoughts, Mentions Of Dehumanization, Mentions Of Suicide Attempt, Dazai Highkey Has Bad Hygiene Because I Know He Canonically Reeks Of Liquid Ass (I Still Love Him But Honey—), Brief Description Of Self Harm Scars, He Takes Off His Bandages, Non-Sexual Nudity For A Bit.

Dazai doesn’t remember when you started to keep an extra pair of clothes in your bottom drawer just for him.

He doesn’t remember when you bought an extra toothbrush for him either, the item sitting in a small cup on your bathroom counter so intimately close to yours. He doesn’t remember when you started to stock your cabinets with canned crab or an occasional snack he had stolen from you before and said it tasted good. He doesn’t remember when you began preparing meals big enough for two. And he doesn’t remember when you started to look at him the way you do.

Those eyes that so fondly trace over every inch of his frame like he’s capable of being loved— like he’s not a silver-tongued beast of a man, his words filled with more teeth than his bite ever could. He doesn’t deserve it— he knows he doesn’t— so why does he find himself at your doorstep every time he fails his attempts in ending his miserable existence?

“You’re going to get sick if you keep this up,” You sigh out, stripping away Dazai’s soaked clothes until he’s shivering in his sopping wet bandages and boxers. “And you smell horrible every time…” Your nose slightly scrunches at the lingering smell of hydrogen sulfide and mucky water from the Yokohama canal.

“Whatever do you mean, dear? That’s just my natural musk,” Dazai gives a lopsided grin, attempting to lighten the mood. His grin falls into an uneasy look when he notices the brief side eye you give him as you toss his clothes into the washer.

“My water bills spike every month you do this, you know,” You point out blamelessly.

“Sorry,” Dazai mumbles with a weak smile. He always made a promise to try his hardest not to inconvenience anyone while making his attempts— making it up to those who he had done so with such as Atsushi. But he’s burdened you countless times, not realizing until now. Before he mentally promises himself to never return to you like a pathetic, mangy stray dog— you come into his view again.

“Don’t be sorry, but please come to me when you feel the urge to do these things, ‘Samu. I worry about you.” And Dazai can’t help but to immediately let his previous thoughts fly away. Who was he kidding? He’d never be able to stay away from you.

Your hands carefully reach to begin unwrapping the bandages sliding off Dazai’s body. Flinching, Dazai subconsciously moves a hand to stop you from taking his bandages off. There’s a momentary standstill between both of your movements as you look into his eyes with a reassuring gaze before his hand relaxes and falls to his side. It’s not the first time this has happened, but Dazai doesn’t think he’d ever get used to the feeling of having his protective cloth shed to reveal the myriad of scars that are engraved on this once blank canvas that humans call skin.

And when all is removed, you still look at him as you always had with an unwavering fondness that leaves him subconsciously leaning into you, yearning to be swallowed and drowned in your gentle affections. He doesn’t understand why you do the things that you do, such as loving him no matter how many times he tells you how much he doesn’t need you because it’s always been like that— lonely— or why you even put up with any of his shit for that matter. But you do. And he thinks he’ll never know why, because he’s terrible and doesn’t deserve what you do in return to his horrid behavior.

He slips into the tub without needing guidance, face tilting up to look at you without his usual charming grin, expression replaced with a quiet pleading, begging for any sliver of attention you can offer. And you give into his pleads, sitting by the tub while running a hand through his dark tangled hair before reaching for a washcloth to bathe him. There’s a lack of cheeky comments and flirting from Dazai as you rinse away the grime sticking to his tainted skin, his eyes flickering from distant to focused in a matter of minutes before glancing back over to you and melting further into your reverent touch.

Even after exiting the tub, he says nothing, allowing you to wrap a towel around his shoulders and place a tender kiss to his forehead. If this had been any other day, he would’ve teased you to no end about how you had to stand on your toes just to reach his face, but he merely softly smiles in mild amusement and lets you lead him into your room to get dressed.

He wears the extra pair of clothes you keep for him at the bottom of your drawer, shirt loosely hanging off his shoulders and pajama pants dragging along the floor each time he takes a step forward to follow you to your bed. He was used to sleeping on his futon, but he much preferred your bed and the comfort your body brought when he tangled his limbs in yours.

You don’t scold him either when he buries his face into your neck like you used to the first few times he had done so— complaining about his hot breath on your neck. Now, you reach a hand back to scratch your fingers through his damp hair in an affectionate manner, sighing out softly in what he can tell is contentment.

Even as Dazai drifts off, he can’t help but think about the irony of hating dogs as much as he does, yet he can’t help but love you like one.

[randombush3]

you're not sorry to go

ona batlle x reader

summary: ona and you are best friends, but it's a bit more complicated than that

words: 4.5k

notes: this one is based on true events x

also let's ignore the result of my poll because i want the next part to have smut and it wasn't fitting with the vibe of this part

oh and the title is a quote from 'this side of paradise' by f. scott fitzgerald

January, nine years ago. 

Nothing about today has been out of the ordinary. 

The weekend is starting, winter drags on, and Ona is all set to train later on in the evening, provided you confirm whether or not you are willing to accompany her to the local pitch. 

Barcelona B usually allows for Fridays off, but Ona isn’t stupid. No one becomes the greatest footballer of all time by not playing more. School is beginning to bore Ona to death, and she knows that she wants what she always has: to go professional. 

“I have a plan,” she tells you confidently, glad you don’t mind sitting on the uneven, grassy sideline as she sets up her cones with determination. You hold the ball between your hands, though Ona is amused by how foreign it looks to you, and you seem to be holding her prized possession hostage so that she spills. “It sounds simple and obvious out loud, but it’s that I am going to play for Barça while you go to the university. You can introduce me to your smart friends so I can meet my wife, and you’ll have all the boys after you anyway so–” 

“Ona.” Her monologue has led her eyes to the ground, but your voice makes her head jerk upwards, not needing much authority to get her to look at you. “I’ve actually had a… realisation, of sorts,” you say with a bashful grin, chin jutting out the way it does when you are gearing up to tell her something that no one else will get to know. “Your cousin is really pretty.” 

“I’ll tell her you said that.” It’s a nice thing to say, and you are partly aware that Ona’s cousin knows who you are because she doesn’t shut up about you ever, but you can’t help the frustration that begins to bubble up inside of you.

“No, Ona,” you try again, “she’s really pretty. Like, I would kiss her.” 

Ona frowns, then. “Don’t be one of those.” She means the girls who experiment, who toe the line of liking girls but don’t, not really. She has been warned about them by her older teammates, the ones who go out for drinks and kiss girls in clubs. The budding footballer really admires them, because their advice is always good and she gets to explore her sexuality without feeling like a creep. No one in Vilassar de Mar cares much that Ona does like girls, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling judged all the same. 

You are one of her best friends, but Ona isn’t sure she can forgive you if you become someone like that. 

“I’m not! I wouldn’t do that.” Your offence is suspicious, and you have been so caught up in destroying her worries that the ball has been dropped and is now rolling towards Ona’s feet, where it is instinctively flicked upwards and caught. “I wouldn’t, Oni, because I know it’s unfair to you guys.” 

“But you want to kiss my cousin? That makes you interested in girls in general too, you know.” 

You bite your lip. 

“Ona, I think I’m gay.” 

The ball is dropped, along with her jaw, and you shift uncomfortably in your seated position, not enjoying how big of a deal she is making this out to be. 

People realise that they’re gay all the time! Why should it be any different for you? 

“Oh,” is all Ona can manage to breathe out, wondering what to do next. Although your friendship cracks the padlocks of most secrets, there is one that hasn’t ever been shared. One that now means substantially more than it did five minutes ago. 

“Say something, please,” you groan in mock annoyance, moving aside your textbooks so that you can grab Ona’s hand and pull her down on top of you. She is much stronger – she trains every day – but something about your skin touching hers injects a surge of patheticness into her well-earned muscles, and she falls, of course she does, because she always falls for you. 

…

A year passes. 

You kiss Ona’s cousin, as intended, and Ona knows the breakup is going to be rough but nothing prepares her for when it comes. 

She’s conflicted, and she’s older now. No longer left behind by her teammates, Ona gets to go out with them when they don’t have football; she gets to talk to the girls about their sex lives, she gets to be involved in it all. She has met Alexia Putellas and been treated like an equal, and she made out with her fourth ever girl last week, this time progressing past tongues and confidently letting her hands roam. 

Ona would say that she has learnt a lot since you dropped your nuclear missile, and she has managed to forget the initial hope she had felt. The secret had been near-faded. 

Until you are calling her, sending her a text when she doesn’t reach her phone quick enough.

‘Ona, I really need you.’ 

She hears nothing from her cousin – they were closer when they were younger – and that, she reasons, is why she is by your side in an instant, meeting you at the windy beach you go to when you are sad, hair damp from running and eyes a little wide as she tries to wake herself up. 

“She said she can’t do it anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking under the strain your sobs had put on it. “She said that she really likes me but that it’s not enough, and she doesn’t want to break my heart but she knows she has to.” 

Ona doesn’t get a chance to respond, because you have flung yourself into her chest before she can think of the right words to say. 

Your shoulders shake as you cry, devastating howling joining the whistles of the wind and the thrash of the waves. The sand is unsteady beneath your feet and you stumble, but Ona holds you firmly, as though she has only ever trained to hold you up. Though you feel her biceps, hard and significantly larger than the last time she had held you this way, you are too caught up in your first heartbreak to acknowledge the tiny, tiny spark between you. 

As you cry and cry and cry, Ona can’t help but feel a little bitter towards her cousin. Clearly, your affection wasn’t false and, though it was working towards the severance of your friendship, you actually cared quite a lot for her. 

Ona chooses to abstain from her jealousy because she is embarrassed that it is possible. 

She is there for you the next day, ensuring you have eaten and allowing you to sleep, but the sun soon sets and Ona vows one thing to herself: she will not take advantage of it. 

“I’m going home,” you mumble when you wake from your restless nap, rolling over into the empty space in your best friend’s bed. The sheets there are cold and unused. Ona must not have moved a muscle since you fell asleep. “My parents must be a little confused, and we have people coming over for dinner. Thank you for looking after me.” 

“No problem.” Ona nods and you awkwardly stand up. “I think I’m going out with the team tonight, but don’t hesitate to call me if… Well, if you feel sad again.” 

“It’s going to feel shit with or without you.” 

You are trying to distance her, to tell her that she can have fun. It might be an issue that your friendship only seems to work when the two of you discuss your recent conquests or latest flings, but it is not one that either of you wants to address for now. 

“I’m just making sure you know I’m here,” she defends indignantly, rolling her eyes at the glimpse of your happier self making its return. 

“Are you going to be drunk?” Your question is pointed and you should really cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently to match your tone. “Don’t you have training tomorrow?” 

“Maybe, and not tomorrow, no. I’ve been asked to join the first team the day after so they’ve given me an alternative rest day.” 

“Ona, if you get drunk, you won’t be there for me at all. You’ll have your tongue down some poor, poor girl’s throat and your phone will be dead.” You laugh from experience, having grown accustomed to how she behaves under the influence. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I swear that alcohol is what fuels your hormones. I’m not going to burden you with my fucking pathetic crying, and, well, you know me, I’ll just find a boy to talk to. I am going to be fine.” 

No one in the room is convinced. 

You swat the air between you two, telling her to get on with getting ready. “Now, enjoy your night, and tell me all about it tomorrow morning!” 

Ona wonders if you are over-compensating by insisting to hear about whoever she has gotten off with, but you are practically flying out the door the minute you have said goodbye to her family and she is stumbling around her room trying to find a clean bra. Life goes on. 

If time did not tick on its own, one of you would task yourselves with turning the hands of the clock manually. 

You try to recover from how much it fucking kills to have a girl break your heart by reminding yourself of your worth in the best way possible: male attention. They hound you, but you enjoy it. You crave it, most of the time, even if the feelings are never quite believably reciprocated. 

It annoys Ona to no end, the way you play with the boys chasing after you. She hates the push and pull, fed-up with the constant complaining from your end. Often, because Ona speaks her mind when she can, she tells you that it’s not fair on the ones who hand their hearts to you only to watch you pierce through them with sharp, I-was-never-a-lesbian nails. 

You don’t talk about her cousin. At least, not to Ona because you have been informed by some other friend that blood is thicker than water.

Or maybe it’s because Ona begins to avoid you, begins to spend more time with her teammates, who don’t hide their sexuality and who like the things she likes. (Once, in a hateful frenzy, Ona thinks to herself that the only thing the two of you have in common nowadays is that she likes you and you like you too.) 

“What happened to your best friend?” Laia Aleixandri asks thoughtfully once after training. Ona is helping her collect the water bottles the other girls had left lying around on the pitch. There have been more injuries than what’s comfortable within the first team, and maybe some of the reserves have forgotten that they are not yet professionals. “You’ve stopped talking about her.” 

“We’ve fallen out,” Ona answers, settling on that because she doesn’t know how else to describe the shift in your relationship. 

“Over what?” comes Laia’s obvious sequential question, more a due dalliance than genuine interest. Laia is one of those girls who plays to play and can sometimes be too busy to spend time with the team outside of training. Because of this, she is largely unaware of Ona’s growing reputation within the squad. As Ona has grown up, her confidence has increased. Girls like that, and they are in plentiful supply to her. She no longer needs to be drunk, but something almost certainly occurs if she is. 

“She dated my cousin and, I don’t know, the way she acted in the fall-out was horrible. She likes girls, I know she likes girls, but I think she has been scarred and her ego has been bruised. No boy has ever made her cry like that, and I think she’s traumatised. And it’s valid! I understand, completely and totally, but she is acting as though she never had a thing with my cousin and it’s annoying. It’s as if being gay is a joke to her.”

Laia senses that Ona’s not done, and she is correct to think so. 

The next wave is this: “Laia, I really don’t agree with it, and it is hurting me. It hurts to see my cousin be messed around by a straight girl, it hurts to see my best friend hate part of herself, and it hurts me because, well, it just– it just does! I can’t explain it.” She can; she doesn’t want to. Her secret is still heavily guarded and it is going to take more than Laia asking about you to get her to confess. “I just want peace for everyone involved,” she says after taking a deep, diplomatic breath. 

“Peace,” Laia repeats with a giggle. “Ona, the things I have heard about you are the opposite of ‘peace’. Aita’s been keeping me in the loop, and she says that–” 

“Okay, Laia, I don’t need a lecture.” 

What probably would have been very helpful for Ona to know is lost to the devastating final blow of her eye-roll as she jogs to the water cooler to return the bottles and head home. 

…

The reconciliation of a decade-old friendship is fast and natural. Things do not quite go back to normal, and the two of you are not as close as before, but your group of friends at school breathe out a collective sigh of relief when the ice thaws and Ona starts to turn up to their gatherings instead of the ones held by her beloved blaugranas. 

It’s a camping trip. 

Their first year of bach has ended, and someone – Ona doesn’t know who – has suggested a camping trip because her grandfather’s brother owns a farm and the farm has a field and the field is far-removed enough for the smell of cigarettes and red-label whiskey to dissolve before reaching the house. 

“Are we really going?” Ona asks, making you all laugh as you haul your bags and tents along the tractor path. 

“I do think we should’ve gotten in the tractor,” you agree. Ona nods at you, thanking you for your support. 

Everyone else says it’s good fitness, and then hurls insults at Ona for the remainder of the trek because she should be the last to complain if she is going to become a professional athlete. 

It’s not as far as it seems, and the tents are set up quickly, along with some chairs, a foldable table, and a hefty stash of various bottles of alcohol. 

You start smoking the minute someone flashes their lighter, and Ona uses that as a reason to stay on the other side of the small campsite for a good hour or so. 

She stays away from you no matter how much you stare, but you watch her all the same. 

The boys you talk to are not satisfying. Some may have innocent intentions but the majority don’t, and you know that you are pretty but you are not shallow like that. You don’t even meet the boys half the time unless they corner you at school and demand a slot of your in-person attention.

The boys you talk to explain football and the gym and why they have to play FIFA until the sun rises because it will definitely help Barcelona win on the weekend. They take you for an idiot, and they hardly acknowledge that your best friend (sort of) plays for their darling club so of course you know the rules and the positions. You know that Ona is a defender, and that she is good at it. You don’t want to be patronised and you don’t care about this kind of thing unless it involves Ona. 

Therein lies the issue, actually. 

You don’t care about much unless it involves Ona. Ona, who sways to the music bursting out from the speakers just as stiffly as she always has, not exactly blessed with dancing talent but not for lack of trying. Ona, who declines alcohol tonight because she is following a summer strength and conditioning programme with the hopes of playing in the first team’s preseason matches. Ona, who looks beautiful. Always. 

Smoke billows from your cigarette, right towards the point of your focus, and, suddenly, doe-like eyes are staring back at you with a small, small smirk. She waves, as if to say that she has caught you, and you lean back on the camping chair you are slouched in, pretending to laugh at whatever your friend has just said beside you.

Later, when everyone else is knocked out from the bad quality of the whiskey, snoring comfortably in the other tents, Ona and you kiss. And once you start kissing, you don’t stop. 

Ona is good at this, you assume, because she knows exactly what to do. Contrary to popular belief, you are far more active in theory than in practice, and she surprises you a little bit. Or maybe she doesn’t, because it’s Ona and Ona is good at everything. 

You strive to match her, and you do by the time you finish school. 

Sporadic, non-committal, and in complete disregard for your friendship, the arrangement of hooking up when you feel like it sees you out of Catalonia, with Ona naturally in tow. 

Madrid CFF is happy to have her, and you quite enjoy the challenge of the Spanish capital. It’s not Barcelona, it’s not ideal, but change is good and you need space to explore who you are without watchful eyes and nosy gossipers. 

Homophobia isn’t quite a thing in your family. Your parents are not radically against gay people. In fact, you’d say they are relatively supportive. However, that doesn’t stop you from feeling some discomfort. You lived through Ona’s struggle to come out, and her parents are ever more care-free than yours. 

Madrid is a brand-new place, and word about how you are doing is easily controlled. Updates come from either you or Ona, and that means there is a filter easily applied to all anecdotes. 

Your friends know about the sex, more or less. They know, they don’t approve, but they let you guys sort it out yourselves because everyone agrees that that is just how you and Ona are. They won’t understand it and they have given up on trying to.

Both of you make half-hearted efforts to separate the arrangement from your friendship. You don’t talk much afterwards until the other has left the realm of I-am-in-love-with-you. It’s nice to be in Madrid together, but you find different social circles soon enough and then you are reaching out more for sex than friendly activities and… You stop sleeping with each other upon the footballer’s request. She wants to focus on her career, on her success. She tells you over the phone because she cannot bring herself to end whatever occurred over the last two years in person, knowing that she’d take back her decision in a heartbeat. Ona really, really likes football, and she knows that she has to become obsessed with it to get to the top; more obsessed than she is now. How can she do that if you are distracting her? 

You’re disappointed, but you respect her wishes. 

Girls in Madrid stop seeming as shiny. The world is a bit duller, because although there had been no exclusivity between you and your best friend, there had always been that guarantee that the other would be ready and waiting. Your growing misery makes studying boring, and you find answers for your emotions in a science textbook, desperately running away from the obvious truth. Less sex means that you are unhappier. It’s biology. 

It’s not a crush. 

Not on Ona. 

No. 

And it’s certainly not this not-realisation that flies you to Milan the minute a modelling agency inquires about whether you have ever thought of, well, modelling. They scout you someplace random, and your mother claims that she could have helped you start your career earlier if only you’d have been interested. 

When you explain to your best friend what you are moving for, she is oddly unsurprised and uncaring. Her reaction is sickening, because you’d have rathered her get an ego boost from having slept with a model than be so fucking apathetic. 

“I’m going to Milan, Ona,” you repeat, just in case she has not heard you. “I’m moving. We did the trial shoots last week, and they loved me. They want me to update my social media and work on building up a following, and they said that I should start learning English because I might end up in New York.” 

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” She doesn’t sound like she means it, and you grow annoyed about how she is not even trying to sound enthusiastic. 

“Can’t you be happy for me? Or is it only acceptable for you to have dreams?” 

“I am happy for you, I just said that.” 

“The words left your mouth, but they definitely did not come from your heart.” 

“You’re being dramatic.” Ona rolls her eyes and the pent-up sexual tension builds and builds until the bottle it has been shoved into can no longer withstand the pressure. You haven’t argued since you moved to Madrid, which makes no sense considering you literally broke up – even if it absolutely wasn’t dating. Neither of you has processed your broken heart, and you’re pretty sure you are still too traumatised from the first girl you fell in love with to be capable of revisiting those kinds of emotions. 

Ona hasn’t had sex in weeks, and it is affecting her performance. She can’t sleep if she has the energy she does, and she can’t get through her workouts because not sleeping makes her lose her appetite and then she does not have the energy to complete them. Her coaches are worried, but they know that she is young and though almost idiotic, they mostly assume that she is repulsed by the idea of playing for a club in Madrid. They get that a lot with the Catalans that come over from La Masia, whose dreams have been delayed because the first team had thought it necessary that they gained more experience elsewhere. 

Ona has wanted to shout and scream every minute of every day, and so have you. Therefore, everything explodes. 

…

You inhale deeply, exhaling when it feels as though some of the stress has dissipated. This casting is one of the more important ones of the week. It’s odd to be judged on your appearance, to be paid for it, but it has been almost a year since you moved to Milan and you are enjoying yourself. 

You don’t miss university, and you don’t miss your parents. Your friends visit you lots, loving the idea of your career, loving the excuse to escape their dreary weekends in where they have always been. 

Milan is great. You make friends with a few other models, though they come and go depending on work, and the more experience you get, the more your following count goes up. Brands send you things, nice things, and events start extending invites to lure you into the glamour of the industry. 

Milan is great, you tell yourself on repeat. 

Milan is great, but it would be better if Ona were here. 

Milan is great, but you regret the way you left things and want to take it all back. 

Milan is great but– 

“Your fitting is tomorrow,” says the assistant, reading off her iPad. You suppress your wandering thoughts, nodding. You need this job, you need the money to pay for a flight. The agency has given you some advancements – an impressive thing, apparently – but not enough to cover the cost of the ticket to New York for the start of Fashion Week. This show will fluff out your experience, and increase your chances of walking at one of the bigger shows. 

You’ve been told that you are quite a good model; attractive, funny, with just the right amount of personality to be both a mannequin and an interesting figure. 

The lifestyle is different but good, and you realise that you’d never wanted the mundanity of studying and then working and selling your soul to some kind of tall office building. Not everyone gets the concept of living away from home, especially not those from your tight-knit community who think the city is stretching the distance slightly (the train works, you can live with your parents and have a good job – you’ve been told that a few times), but you don’t mind. You can explain it as much as you want and they would still be confused. 

You stay in touch, but you don’t stay present. 

As your career snowballs over the next two years, you pull away from your home, always on a flight, always busy. You go to LA and Paris and London, and you rent your flat in Milan out as an Airbnb whenever you’re not there. You love the city, you start to think of it as yours, and slowly but surely, everything else fades into the background. 

Apart from Ona, of course. Your friends still visit, or you meet up with them if you ever find yourself in Barcelona, and they continue to affirm just how proud they are of you. They talk about her a lot, too; about where she’s playing now, about injuries and fame and representing Spain. They know you are too stubborn to search it up for yourself, but these are the people who have grown up with you: they know you would like to be informed. 

When you hear that Ona has moved to Manchester, you don’t quite think your actions through. 

You have had enough. You miss her terribly.

Her number has changed, but someone passes it onto you. 

You: I saw that you’re playing Arsenal next week. I’ll be in London then. Do you want to get a coffee? 

Ona takes her time replying, but that is only because she wants to delay the inevitable. 

Her eyes shine and her hair is damp, but the kick-off had been early and you don’t have anything to do today. You meet her in the carpark, picking her up in a black BMW that’s sleek and shiny and 100% not yours. Her laugh is light and free as she knocks on the driver’s window and juts her thumb out, instructing you to swap. 

“I’m not getting in a car that you’re driving,” she declares seriously, though you know she has forgiven you because she would not have agreed to meet if she hadn’t. “Come on, I checked on Maps and there’s a place not too far from here that looks nice. And it’s empty, so don’t worry about the paparazzi.” 

“The paparazzi are not after me,” you shut down quickly, not wanting her to think you are a bigger deal than what you are. Successful, yes. Famous? Not so much. “One day it’ll be you worrying about them, when you’re all grown up.” 

“I’m twenty-one!” 

It comes out so whiny and childish that you burst into a fit of giggles. Ona is proud to have made you laugh. 

You don’t kiss her, but you’d like to. Then again, maybe it’s better to just be friends. 

[theemporium]

Theodore Nott was possessive in a way that people didn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t puffing his chest out whenever another man approached his girlfriend, nor was he threatened by other men attempting to flirt. He didn’t care when people ogled his girl because he knew you were gorgeous and he knew you would be coming home with him at the end of the night. He didn’t care about other people because he had you and that was all that mattered to him. 

But sometimes—just sometimes—one teeny, tiny little thing could set off that possessive spark in his chest. 

This time it had been the relentless and blatant attempts your potions partner had been making at you. 

And truly, on any other day and in any other situation, Theo wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care because you were his and he knew that, and he knew that you knew it too. But it had been weeks now. Weeks and weeks of countless flirting and smiling and giggling, and the thing that really set him off was your refusal to admit that your potions partner was flirting. 

He’s just being nice to me, you had told him with a shake of your head. Not every boy that is nice with me wants to get in my pants, Theo.

But he did know. He knew exactly what the boy was trying to do. He knew because he saw the little looks and smirks your potions partner would send him during the lesson to taunt him, but you were so hellbent on believing the slimy bastard over your own boyfriend that it set him off. 

If you wouldn’t tell your potions partner that you belonged to him, then he would just have to do it for you.

You had been sitting on his lap, peacefully reading some book that he had only vaguely been skimming over your shoulder. It was late on a Friday evening, meaning most students had something better to do other than loitering around the common room like you two had been doing. 

His fingers had been playing with the hem of your skirt, tugging on the fabric just to watch the way your lips twitched at the movement before he noticed your potions partner coming in through the main hallway entrance. 

He tried to ignore him. He really, really did. But then the fucker came over, smiling at you as he greeted you and made a point of sitting just within earshot of you like he was waiting for you to start a conversation, and Theo couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“Theo,” you whispered, a little confused when you felt him pushing the fabric of your skirt further up your thighs. “Theo, what are you—”

“Do you like the fact he’s here?” Theo hissed in your ear, his grip firm on your thighs as he pulled your legs apart. “Do you like the attention he gives you?” 

You gasped as you tried to clench your legs shut. “Theo, there are people—”

“People or him?” Theo grumbled, nosing your jaw as he hooked your legs over his so he could keep you open. “You don’t want him to see you like this, princess? Don’t want him to see who you fucking belong to?”

Your stomach dipped at his words. “You know I belong to you.” 

“But do you know that?” He retorted, his voice tense and gruff and it shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it was. “You think you can run around and flirt and bat your eyes, and I won’t say a word?”

You shook your head, a choked noise of pleasure leaving your lips when his thumb pressed down over your clothed cunt. “I-I don’t—”

“Such an attention whore,” Theo commented, a dark chuckle leaving his lips when you bucked your hips against his hand. “Look at you, fucking desperate for me.”

“Theo, please,” you breathed out, turning your head to nuzzle your face into his neck. “We can go upstairs—”

“No,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “No, you are gonna sit here like the fucking brat you are and you’re gonna take it all, and you’re gonna let everyone see. Especially that bastard.” 

And that was exactly what he was going to do. 

He didn’t care the fact you were hiding your face in his neck, or the tears welling up in your lash line. He didn’t care about the fact that there were other people in the common room, or the fact someone could walk in and get a direct few of your soaking cunt. He didn’t give two shits because you were his—his love, his girlfriend, his whore—and he wanted the whole damn castle to know.

“Please, please, please, please,” you cried out, shaking in his hold as your arousal dripped down your thighs, the debauched noises of his fingers pumping into your pussy echoing through the common room. “Theo, I-I can’t—I need you.”

“I know, princess, I know,” he cooed, his tone a little condescending and patronising as he pushed you further and further over the edge. “You need me. You’re my good little slut, aren’t you, love? Just a perfect whore f’me.”

“Just you,” you sobbed pathetically, your back arching against his chest. “Just you, Theo, just you. Promise.”

Theo turned his head to the side, catching a glimpse of your potions partener. His face was bright red, his eyes were looking anywhere but you and he was squirming in his seat as the sounds of your moans echoed through the room. 

Theo couldn’t help but let his lips twitch upwards with a smirk. 

“That’s right, honey, just for me,” Theo cooed, watching the way you came undone in his arms with your release dripping down his wrist and your thighs. “Now open that pretty mouth, need you to take care of this mess you’ve made, princess.”

.

[oh-saints]

I found your page a couple of days ago and i love all your stories. I hope you won't be overwhelmed with the amount of Rúben dias requests you're about to receive from me 😂I would like to request something with ruben like oc is heavily pregnant and craving something weird (whatever weird this that comes into your mind lol) and he is laughing and teasing her about it lol, and oc us having non of it. Make it fluffy please 🥺

Thank you so much in advance

cravings

craving during pregnancy is something we all are aware of, rúben even looks forward to it from the moment you broke down the news you were expecting. but what if you ask for something he doesn’t even know it exists?

rúben dias x you part of dad!rúben collection

wc: 2k

note: something that’s been sitting way too long in the vault because of the research I had to do about this but only now finished bcs I had spurts of inspiration suddenly so surprise, surprise it’s a double update! LOLOL but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet!

“gatinha,”

at your whisper, rúben stirred from his sleep. his eyes immediately spotted the clock on the bedside table. the numbers drawn 3:00 in the big, fat analogue font across the screen.

“uh, what is it?” being the alert husband he was, he turned around to face you in no time. “is there something you need?

you were already seated on the edge of the bed, meaning you had just finished from your early morning toilet trip. ever since you became pregnant, the little trip was a new routine for you—and maybe the majority of other pregnant women in general, and everyone around him who had become fathers before him had warned the footballer to watch where the mother was going.

that, and the last thing he needed was for you to slip somewhere when he wasn’t watching, when he couldn’t be any help for you. rúben and you had been waiting for your very own rainbow baby for years, so when you were granted one, it was within his most important priority list to make sure both you and the child—whose gender was still unknown yet; not even born yet and they already resembled your shy nature—happy and safe.

“are you okay?”

you didn’t hide your fascination towards the man in front of you, hair disheveled and eyes blurry with drowsiness. 5 years of marriage and you still found him endearing, even more so when he was now turning protective and alert all the time, borderline the leader of a pack with the appearance similar to a mother hen.

“i am, don’t you worry,” you said, your hands stroking the side of his face, feeling the little hairs growing to become stubbles in near future. “but i’m starving.”

ah… the infamous early morning craving.

you had never personally asked of anything alike before, contrary to what everybody else had been advising rúben that there would be a time where you would be craving something eventually in a very ridiculous time of a morning. four months in, and you were yet to show any signs of it so rúben naturally thought you were going to be an exception case. but look where they were now.

with a smile so apologetic for having to wake him up like that, rúben melted into the warmth your smile exuded. “of course, meu anjo. should i get my keys?”

rúben might be many things but you didn’t believe one chance that he was a psychic. “do you even know what i want to eat?”

“uh, mcdonalds?”

in any other time, you would’ve laughed at his meek attempt to guess your mind. given t was early in the morning, mcdonalds was supposedly a reasonable choice since it was open 24/7.

but you did not, in under any circumstances, want to touch your feet nearby that chain of foul fast food. besides, you were pregnant. didn’t your husband consider that the unhealthy intake of food would do no good for their baby?

rúben must’ve noticed the change in your demeanour. “did i say something wrong, my love?”

“yes, don’t assume anything you don’t know of.”

ah… this one rúben was familiar, the rapid change of your mood he had his money run for the fastest rollercoaster on earth, so he apologised instantly and asked you again what you wanted.

“remember the time when we travelled to asia?”

“you mean, our honeymoon?”

oh, you were so not having your husband being mr. i-know-it-all. “one more of that and i’m walking out.”

the threat was enough to make rúben circle around the bed before kneeling down in front of your frowning figure. not because he was a loser, but because he knew you might actually do it. you had a capability to do it, you always do, which was why he was drawn to you in the first place.

but he didn’t want a runaway wife, pregnant on top of that, so he quickly apologized again. “what about it, baby?”

“i want durian.” ＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

what on earth is durian?

rúben sighed as he stared at his phone, the screen frozen helplessly for how many tabs he’d opened up in the browser. he rubbed his face rather roughly, due to the frustration, as he sat on the cover of the toilet and pondered his life choices and its respective life expectancies.

no one—literally no one—had warned him about the effect of any slip of tongue around a pregnant woman.

you were the calmest person he’d ever met, never wanting to bite off someone else’s head because it drained your precious energy. which rúben agreed to, and had been a devoted student of yours in terms of anger management on and off the field. but it was getting very hard to keep his own composure intact when you even lost yours.

ironically, rúben realised that one of you should still stay sane for the sake of everyone in this household, now inclusive of the unborn baby and it didn’t look like it was going to be you anytime soon.

so realistically, he couldn’t say to you that he didn’t remember a thing—not even an ounce of it—that you both had seen the fruit in question during your honeymoon. according to you, though, you both were even mesmerized by the look but decided that the possibility of dying because of the foul smell was larger than the delicious taste. as a result, when was the best time to try the exotic fruit than now, at 3.30 AM, when you were nearing the fifth month of pregnancy?

thus, his final resort to the internet, hoping for a miracle in the amount close to how much he needed to create the apple of his eyes with you.

but of course, the search engine didn’t show anything that could help him save his own lifeline this early morning from a pregnant wife that was so ready to stab the knife to his chest. the best option rúben got was to visit chinatown and head to the fruit market.

with a particular note from a lovely reviewer that the fruit was subject to a particular season—durian season, as the asians called it. if you were to seek for the spiky fruit beyond the particular calendar, then you either (i) got one that tasted as foul as it smells, or (ii) came home empty handed.

but of course, you wouldn’t get it, would you? rúben had already had it in his head you were going to wail at how incredulous his justifications are—what the hell is a durian season? we have spring, summer, autumn and winter and not durian! he could imagine—and would accuse him of trying to get his way out of the hard labour of satisfying you craving. worse, you’d scream out rúben should be responsible for this because he was the one who knocked you up and not vice versa.

other times, the footballer would just laugh it off. even at first, he did so and thought you were the cutest thing in his life, an actual living plushie. now, he just didn’t know what to do…

“what takes you so long?”

rúben jumped slightly at the question thrown at him from behind the door, the only thing separating him and his thoughts with the rest of the world and their expectation towards him. “nothing, meu anjo. i’ll be out in a minute.”

“good, because we gotta go. i’m sleepy already but the baby needs to eat.”

the husband closed his eyes once more, regulated his breathing, visualizing the flow of his breath before letting them out slowly—just the way you taught him how—before coming out of the loo. “baby, can i ask you one thing?”

you looked up, and rúben felt bad because you were already dressed and ready to go out and fight the coldness of an early morning. “what is it?”

“what if we go and have the durian in the morning?”

“rúben, it’s already morning now,” you clicked your tongue impatiently. “what are you saying?”

“i have a place to go already but they’re only open later at 8.”

and pregnant silence fell upon them, no puns intended.

“why at 8?”

“because that’s when the market opens,” rúben sat again in front of you, his hands were rubbing the back of your hand and on top of your knees respectfully. “i’m afraid we’ll have to go to chinatown to get them and it’s only open then.”

rúben was so ready with your fit, so he was rather surprised to hear you answer, “okay.”

okay?

okay?!

okay!

good god, the mood swing had returned it honestly felt like rúben had just jumped off the cliff with bungee jumping.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben was the one not okay that morning.

you turned out to opt out sleeping that night, despite being cuddled by your husband—which was your favourite way to go to sleep, even faring better than being lullabied—but rúben forgot you were living your life for two people for these nine months, so you still had a bar of energy and excitement while he had to drag his feet to the en suite bathroom.

you were literally counting in seconds as to when you’d get to the chinatown. your legs were involuntarily shaking from excitement, while he’d become more sensitive due to the lack of sleep (per his standard). as soon as the car stopped at the parking lot, you ran to the nearest entrance and lost yourself in quest to find the fruit. it wasn’t even 8 AM yet.

rúben had to call and asked you to share your live location, in case you were lost. but you were already moving in a pace so different than those mothers he’d gotten to know lately due to the parenting class, there was no way he could catch up.

“where are you?” as soon as his phone rang, he picked up, panting from the endless count of steps inside a huge market. “i cannot find you.”

coincidentally, you happened to call rúben in order to tell him that you were going to line in a queue to a small shop selling imported exotic fruits. the small hadn’t been open, yet there was already a waiting list, and in your dictionary of words it should only mean that the said shop was relevant to be called the local’s favourite.

“there you are,” rúben was about to comment

like a lucky charm, they were called in to make their purchase not long after.

you had your eyes already set on durian, so when the uncle asked if you wanted to eat at that place or bring home a peeled one, you didn’t hesitate to have them immediately. besides, you didn’t know how to split durian into two and whatnot.

“oh my god, so damn good!” you didn’t waste a minute to dance your little moves that you made to indicate you’re happy at that moment. “i can eat this every day for the rest of my life!”

good god, please help me.

“you should try, baby!” you were so excited to share your happiness with your husband, one hand holding a tiny bit of yellow and ready to be shoved into rúben’s mouth. who could deny such endearing request? “you’ve never had one before!”

and that was also the last time rúben had a bite of that yellow, mushy inside of durian. apart from the smell, he decided he didn’t like the texture and the bitter aftertaste.

but that was him. you, on the other hand, were munching the fruit as if it was going to be your last time seeing that scarce fruit. it appalled rúben too even at the length and amount you could eat in one seating. and looking at that, seeing you were this elated, it also made him full—in every sense of the word, literally and figuratively.

when you were done with the last chunk, you grinned at him, rather sheepishly. maybe you were drunk from the fruit, maybe you were shy because you just let out one hell of an appetite. “thank you for coming here with me.”

“anytime, my love, but we’re not doing this again. okay, meu anjo?” rúben wiped your fingers one by one from the sticky texture, internally wincing at the stinky smell. “promise me that.”

“sim, meu amor.”

[tyunzonlystar]

Your sexy professor (K.T.H)

Warnings!!: Breeding, Age gap (22-31), reader is 22, Choking, dom!Taehyun, sub!Reader, Afab!Reader, humiliation? Making out, spit kink, hair pulling, degradation, hickeys/marking, orgasm denial, sir kink, spanking, pussy hitting/slapping, unprotected sex (pls use protection), talk of masturbation, overstimulation, dry humping, oral (F receiving), pet names (good girl, slut, princess, pretty girl, baby, sir, darling, naughty girl, my love, smart girl, honey), multiple orgasms? (2), fingering, slight size kink?? Basically just filth

Summary: You couldn’t stop staring. You know it’s wrong but you can’t help that your sexy professor shows up in those suits where the top is gonna rip from his muscles and the trousers show his print. He knows you’re staring. He likes it. Even he stares at your plush thighs in those short skirts. Word count: 2864

Smut under the cut! MDNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Everyone called Taehyun "sir" but the way you said it... it was different. It turned him on. Everything you wore, said, did... turned him on. Chewing your pen lids, the way your pen sat between your plush lips, your sexy crop tops, your thigh highs on a cold day, your mini skirts, your acrylic nails,the way you look up at him through your lashes, your soft makeup, the 'hello kitty' tattoo on your abdomen, your cute hairstyles, your decorated notebooks, your perfect handwriting. The way you said "sir", "sir can you help?", "thank you! It makes more sense now!", the way you mumble "what the fuck?" at a question

or even just cursing at classmates.

"OI YOU FUCKING PRICK!" you shout at on of your male classmates

“STOP RUNNING YOU PUSSY!”

Your classmate runs into Taehyuns class and you run in after him and chase him into his seat in the lecture hall.

“Why’d you run? There’s no way you’re scared of me” you laugh

“Y/N you’re a little scary… Like you just chased me into the lecture hall”

“You’re such a scaredy-cat C/N” you say and make your way to your new seat that Taehyun put you in so you’re infront on his desk. You pull out your notebook and pen and lay it on your desk as the room fills up with students. You decide to draw a heart with his initials in and hope he doesn’t notice.. “I mean he wouldn't… right? He has about 100-180 students in that one lecture hall so surely he won't notice” You snap out of your thoughts asoon as he walks in and taps on your desk.

“You’re listening right, Ms L/N?” He asks in his deep voice that you touch yourself to at night with all the recordings you got of him talking.

“Uhm yeah im listening…”

Taehyun  smiles down at you and leans down to your ear

“Good girl”

Your cheeks heat up as you give a small nod and he carries on talking. If you weren't listening before, you definitely weren't now. The only thing running through your mind were his words…

“Good girl” “good girl” “good girl” “good girl”

Once again you’re pulled out of  your thoughts with a tap on your desk causing you to flinch as you look up and your eyes are met with your sexy professor looking at you with a smirk.

“Y/N please stay after class. Count it as a detention for not listening.” He says sternly but only he knew it wasn’t a detention he was gonna give you. So once again you nod your head and start paying attention to what he was saying as your eyes wandered from the board to his broad shoulders, his muscles and obviously his outline…

“I  wonder what he looks like without that shirt on.. Or without any clothes at all.. What does he look like working out?” you think to yourself before copying the person behind you so it looks like you listened. And as you were about to start daydreaming the bell rang. A loud groan fell from your lips, annoyed that in 20 minutes you could be at your dorm in bed doing skincare or even touching yourself but no! Here you are sitting in the now empty classroom with Taehyun standing behind you.  He goes and locks all entries to his classroom so you have a few seconds to fantasize more and he comes back and clears his throat.

“S-sorry sir… How long is my detention?”

“Until I want you to leave so not for a while” He grabs a chair and sits next to you. “Why weren’t you listening to me today Y/N? You always listen. Always the top in my class. You always have the most notes and ask the most questions and even asking for help on harder topics. What’s happened today, hm? Got something or someone on your mind, pretty girl?”

You look down at your skirt and shrug as you sort your thigh highs out. Taehyun grabs you by your chin forcefully and makes you look at him.

“Use your fucking words. I know you’re not dumb.” He smirks

“I-uh.. I was just thinking about what i was gonna do when i uhm get home!” You lie.

“Strike 1 baby. No lies.” He says sternly and pulls you on his lap. “Lie again and i'll kick you from my class” He smiles and places his hands on your hips and grinds you down on him. That immediately made you talk.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I was thinking about you shirtless and what you look like without any clothes on!” you say fastly

“I see…” He smirks and grinds you down harder making you whimper. Taehyun wraps one of his hands around your neck and pulls you in for a messy kiss. His tongue ran against yours and his teeth collided against yours. The kiss was desperate. So desperate. You were clinging onto his tie, grinding down on him as you started chasing your high, salvia was on both of your lips, it was just so desperate and messy. Soon enough you felt your high coming closer and closer and you pulled away from the kiss.

“Close princess?” He said with a smug smile on his face. You whimpered in response as your hips stutter and you let out moans.

“Taehyun! Mmmh… Taehyun- sir! P-please!” You moaned right next to his ear.

“Cum for sir baby”

And with that you came. Just from dry humping him. Wait- his hands weren't slowing you down.. He was making you grind on him harder and faster!

“S-sir! T-too much please!”

“I’m sure I can get another one out of you, hm?” He chuckles.

Once again you were moaning out his name as your second orgasm crashed down on you. Taehyun finally stopped your hips from moving and pulled you by your hair so he could look at your already fucked out face. His thumb tapped your bottom lip and your lips parted. He gathered spit and a sparkly pearl of spit fell from his lips into your mouth.

“Swallow it”

You close your lips and swallow his spit as he smiles at you sweetly.

“Y/N i have some work to do.. So make your way back to your dorm and i'll see you tomorrow sexy girl” He says in a sad tone and he kisses you again.

6:15am

You put on one of your pink skirts that showed off maybe a little too much.. I mean it is just about covering your ass and the top of your thighs. You grab your pink thigh highs with a little white bow on the top and you put on your really cute hello kitty crop top to match the outfit. You then grab a pink jacket and lay it on your bed so you can go and braid 2 little plaits into your hair. Then you go and start doing your skincare routine and then adding some makeup (concealer, mascara, brows, ect.) and of course you have to put on your pretty pink lipgloss. You check the time.

7:30am     

That was just enough time to spray your best smelling body mist all over yourself and doing another outfit check before you left your dorm and took many elevators and stairs to your first class which was sadly not with your sexy professor. It was fine though.  You could just miss that class but you didn’t you went to all your lessons and finally Mr. Kangs class came around so you didn’t eat your lunch just so you could be the first person there. You walk in and you both greet eachother as if nothing happened. After all you couldn't act like you were just last night as everyone would suspect something going on. Some time passed and now he was halfway done with his lecture on whatever subject. You had no clue what was going on, you were daydreaming once again. Surprise surprise.  All it took was two taps on your shoulder and you quickly looked to your side and saw your classmate.

“What?” You say annoyed

“Pay attention.” She said.

“Shut up you freak. All you want is him in your pants for being “such a good girl”” you mock the last part. “He doesn’t want you hun. Sorry to burst your bubble C/N. And if his fine ass doesn’t want you then nobody does so shut the fuck up and leave me alone” You roll your eyes as she looked dumbfounded.

The class ended and she was the first to leave without looking back. Clearly you scared her off your man. Who does she think she is?

“Y/N” Taehyun spoke up.

“What?” You groan

“Excuse you? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“You clearly. Nobody else is here.”

“L/N drop your attitude or do you need me to fuck it out of you?”

“Shut up, that girl was being an annoying cunt.”

“Firstly, don’t tell me to shut up. Secondly, don't take your anger out on me.”

“Sorry sir..”

“Come here”

You get up from your desk and walk over to him and he pulls you onto his lap. Taehyun cups your face and kisses you passionately. His tongue danced along with yours before he pulled away.

“Bend over love”

You stood up and bent over his desk as he flipped your skirt upwards to get a perfect view of your plump ass. He rubbed the flesh then landed a harsh slap on your ass. Then another. And another. And another until there was a red handprint on your ass. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but before you knew it your cute panties were around your ankles.

“You’re this wet from just spanking? Slut.” He swipes two fingers along your drenched pussy before getting on his knees and kisses your clit. He sucks harshly on your little bud as you let out a loud whimper. Taehyuns long, thick fingers find your tight hole and he inserts 2 and finger fucks you at a fast past and hits all th sweet spots your fingers could never reach.

“S-sir! Tyun ‘m c-close!”

He hums against your clit and it buzzes throughout your whole body as you clench around his fingers he pulls them out and his lips leave your now swollen bud.

“Tyunnnn why’d you do that?” You pout and turn your head to look at him. He shrugs with that same smirk on his face.

“Such a slut for thinking you just get to cum after speaking to me like that. If you think your cuming at all then please darling think again”

He gets off his knees and flips you around so he could sit you on his desk.

He moves your hair and he kisses your neck and sucks dark purple and red splotchy marks into your skin and with every hickey he makes a high pitched whimper left your throat.

“You’re moaning just from me kissing your neck? Oh honey… You’re dripping on my paperwork…”

Your face flushes in embarrassment as you look away.

“Open.” Taehyun commands so you comply and open your mouth a little as a droplet of his spit plops in your mouth and like a good girl you swallow. Taehyun lifts you up and bends you over his desk again. He unbuckles his belt and pulls his trousers and boxers down. He flips you around and your eyes widen at his length as you look up at him.

“You’re going to fucking break me!”

“Shut up. No I won't. Now be a good girl for sir and undo my top, hm?”

You do as he says and take his tie off and your small hands start fiddling with the buttons on his shirt slowly undoing them one by one as it falls off his shoulders and his chest and abs come on show. Your hands trace his abs and once again your flipped around and bent over as he smears his pre-cum around his length before pushing into you inch by inch.  

“Tyun ‘ts t-too big! W-won’t fit..”

“I'll make it fit princess.”

With one last push he was fully inside you and with no warning he was already gripping at your waist and hips slamming into you at an impossible pace. His hand leaves your waist and he slaps your ass earning a loud moan of his name from you. You grip at his desk to try and stabilize yourself so you don't shoot forward. Taehyuns hand finds your hair and tugs it so you’re looking up at him and he leans down and kisses your forehead as his hand leaves your hair and goes around your neck pulling you up to him. The only sounds were skin slapping, your moans and whimpers, his grunts and his whimpers when it felt way too good. Your back flushed against his chest as he sat down on his chair making you ride him, hand never leaving your neck.

“Sir ‘m gonna c-cum..” you whine as you clench around him.

“Oh i don't think so” He grips your hips and makes your movements stop, your orgasm slowly fading away.

“Whyyyyyy” you whine

He ignores you and starts bouncing you on his cock again but before you can do anything you’ve already came around him. Taehyun obviously isn't happy so he lifts you off his cock and pushes you onto his desk, your chest now pressed against the cold wood.

“You naughty fucking girl.” He says in a husky tone before he hits your pussy then pinches your clit making you moan over and over again.

“Count.” One harsh slap to your pussy.

“O-one”... “Two”... “Hnng t-three”... “Fuck! Four”... “Five”... “S-six!”... “Seven”... “E-eight”...

“Good girl”

If your clit was swollen before then it was to be numb by now.

“And just for this session i'll make you pass your quiz from last week”

“Don’t care ‘bout grades just call me your lady” 

“Y/N…”

“I know i'm young but my mind is well beyond my years”

You pick up your panties and kiss his lips.

“See you tomorrow sir!” you leave his class

You woke up and got ready like normal and went to all your classes impatiently waiting for Taehyuns class. Finally it was his class and you got there 20 minutes early.

“Taehyunnnn” You run up to him and he picks you up.

“I missed you Tyunnie” you pout and kiss him

“I missed you too, my love” he kissed you back

He spun you around in his arms and put you down.

“Go sit down okay? Remember to stay after class” He smiles as he greets other students filling the classroom

“Today we have a quiz!” his voice echoed the lecture hall as everyone groaned and he started handing out the tests. Taehyun walked over to you and placed the quiz on your desk and you grabbed his arm.

“You have a question L/N Y/N?”

“If I pass this quiz will you give me your babies?” You whisper in his ear as he gives you a stern look.

“We’ll talk after class” He says as he walks away and hands out the quiz to the other students.

“Silence from now please! This should take you the whole lesson if you get stuck, I'll come help you. But please don’t waste my time if you don't need it.” He projected as he sat at his desk. You tried your hardest on this quiz just so you could pass and you finished 10 minutes before the end of class so you went up to him and handed him your quiz.

“Finished or need help?”

“Finished…”

“I'll start marking it then” He smiles as you sit back down at your desk slowly falling asleep.

The bell awoke you from your little nap as everyone left once again you stayed.

“Pretty girl”

“Hm?”

Taehyun pats his thigh and you walk over to him and sit down on his thigh.

“You’re such a smart girl.. You passed.”

You smiled at his words as he moved your panties to the side and undone his trousers and pulled them down just so his cock could fall out. He lifts you up and slowly sinks you down onto him. Once he was halfway he slammed your hips down which made a scream of his name fall from your lips.

“Fuckkk.. You wanted m-my babies?I’ll give you my fucking babies yeah?” He groans as you nod eagerly. “Fuck N/N im so close. Cum with sir, yeah?”

You whimper at the nickname and nod your head as you clench around him and cum. After a few more bounces on his cock he painted your gummy walls white as your body went limp in his arms.

“Marked as mine now.”

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, TRANSLATE OR POST ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT GIVING CREDIT!!! feel free to reblog though🌸🌸

Tags: @smutnoullitheorem

[skipper1331]

Drunk // Guro Reiten

Guro was drunk. Really drunk. Chelsea just won the FA Cup and the team decided to go out and party. Music was blasting through the club while everyone danced.

You though, you were at home. Despite Guros begging to come with her you denied. You had enough work to do. It took a lot of kisses to convince her to go without you.

Guro was a clingy drunk. It would start when she got tipsy - her hand would never leave yours, she would always touch you, press kisses to your cheek, nose, forehead, jaw. She would practically sit in your lap even though there would have been enough space to sit on her own.

Now with you not being there she was a pouty little girl. "I want my girlfriend!" she whined, sitting at a table with Erin and Sam. "But she’s not here" Erin chipped in. "Drink some shots" and Guro did. Way to much. She would regret that decision in the morning.

At some point during the party night her drinking got out of hand which led to Magda calling you. Magda herself was not sober yet she was the most sober. "Hi! Sorry to bother you. Is there a way you could pick up Guro? She is kinda… yeah" As soon as you picked up the phone you already started to get dressed. You knew how Guro would get when alcohol was in her system.

Not even twenty minutes later you entered the club. It was hot, smelled like sweat and full of people. "Oh hello my friend!" Sam threw her arm over your shoulder. "Getting your girl, huh?" Clearly, she wasn‘t sober as well. She was like everyone in this club. "Where is she?" you asked. With a drink in her hand she pointed at Guro. "She looks like a lost puppy"

As you walked over to your lover, you bumped into a few people. They looked at you funny. You didn‘t know If it was because you bumped into them or because of your outfit (guro‘s chelsea shorts and her norway hoodie) not a typical club outfit.

"Baby, let’s go home" you said as you grabbed Guro‘s hand. Her head whipped in your direction, pulling her hand out of your grip "Baby? I have a wife!" she told you stern, slowly getting confused "i mean no i haven‘t. Not yet. I have a girlfriend" she clarified. Amusement was written on your face. "You have a girlfriend?" you asked. Guro nodded her head rapidly. "She‘s awesome. I love her very much" just thinking about you made her eyes go all shiny and cheeks blushy. Your heart jumped at her confession, falling deeper in love. "She‘s so pretty - much prettier than you." To make her point clear she made a mic drop gesture and with that she turned around, her back facing you. Even If she was drunk and couldn‘t think, she would never go home with somebody else - somebody that wasn‘t you. It made you feel safe and loved, knowing that she would never let anyone hit on her with or without you being with her.

You tried again "Let’s go home, please" with every minute that went by it got hotter in there. you laced your fingers with hers, turning her around. "I told you- Y/n!" Guro hugged you. Firmly, she pressed her lips against yours "you won‘t believe it" she started as she pulled you to the exit "Some woman wanted to take me home!" her voice aghast. "What?" you stated shocked, playing along. "Yeah. But don‘t worry min kjæreste i told her i love you"

Tomorrow will definitely be a teasing day.

—————————

I'm back from the dead. How are y‘all?

Feel free to send me some requests!

—————————

[604to647]

Scherzo (a Barón Tovar Takes a Wife one-shot)

3.1K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader

Scherzo - a short composition – sometimes a movement from a larger work such as a symphony or a sonata

Summary: Your husband takes care of you when you get hurt during your travels.

Warnings: None! All fluff, though reader gets cheeky with her husband cause I mean, it's Pero? Protective!Pero, Soft Husband!Pero (I NEED HIM). A little bit of violence is described where reader gets physically hurt, nothing graphic.

A/N: This was written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge; please see #jettsflora&faunachallenge for all the other amazing works by some wonderful authors (I didn't do much with the meanings of the flowers, was just going for ✨vibes✨ - hope it's okay!). I tend to always miss my babies after I complete their series, and can't help but write little one-shots for them to see what they're up to. This is our Regency couple from Barón Tovar Takes a Wife, but you don't need to read it (although it would be cool if you did - I'm kind of proud of this one 😭) - just know our happy Barón and Baronesa are doing what they love the most, which is travelling on the high seas together.

Beautiful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Truth be told, Naples is not one of Pero’s favourite places to visit in Italy; the Barón much preferred the rolling vineyards of Tuscany or the cultural diversity of Milan.  At least it will be a short stay, too short to even arrange for lodging in the city; it was much easier for everyone on the ship to remain staying in their onboard quarters while he oversaw some Royal fleet business with the Italians.  It would be just three short weeks before they're set to raise the sails again, this time charting a course up the western Italian coast to the Civitavecchia Port of Rome.  He realizes the last time the two of you were in Rome had been when you said your final goodbyes in his youth, parting ways and not meeting again for over ten years; Pero looks forward to strolling the cobblestone streets together once more, this time with you as his bride.

In the meantime, he would try to expedite the matter before him – if the Italian dignitary sitting across from him would acquiesce, perhaps he can still save enough of the day to take you to do some sightseeing before nightfall.  Just as the stout man’s mustache twitches at something he’s read on the document Pero gave him, someone bursts into the office, violently banging open the door.

Recognizing one of his trusted footmen, Pero exclaims, “Miguel, could this wait?  Signor Romano and I are in the middle of something.”

“No!” cries Miguel, alarmingly, “My apologies, Barón!  It is the Baronesa...”

Pero reacts with blinding speed, his chair knocked to the ground from the force with which he stands, “What has happened?!”

“There was a commotion in the square, my lord.  Your wife was hur-”

Pero is already out the door, running as fast as he can towards the city square where he knows you and your lady's maid, Lucia, had planned to do some exploring while he was away at meetings.  Wind rushing past his ears, he can hear behind him the faint thundering footsteps of Miguel the footman trying to keep up with his master.

When he gets to the square, Pero is stunned to find it in a mild state of chaos – several shops have been vandalized and an overwhelming number people seem to be in a state of mild panic, crying.  He scans the crowd and when he finally spots you, he nearly falls to his knees.  You’re sitting on the ground next to Lucia who is crying loudly, comforting her the best you can; and while Lucia is clearly emotionally distraught, she appears to be physically unharmed - the same cannot be said for you.  Your dress is torn in several places and covered in blood; whose blood Pero does not know, but he realizes, stomach dropping, that some of it at least must be yours when he sees the long bleeding cut down your left forearm.  Your beautiful face has at least one messy scrape across your cheek that he can see even at this distance and your lip looks like it’s starting to discolour and swell.

You spot Pero when he is a but few steps away and instantly feel a wave of relief wash over you at the sight of your strong, handsome husband (though you do hate to see the look of panic and terror on his face).  Dropping down to your side, Pero immediately cups your face in his warm, bear paw hands, careful not to disturb any of your injuries, “Dulce!  How are you?”

You don’t want to tell Pero that your heart is still beating fast from how scared you had felt during the stampede, or how the cuts on your arm and face sting and that your sides and back have started to ache.  You know that doing so will only make him feel worse - but you’ve never lied to your husband in all the years you’ve known him so you simply say, truthfully, “Better now that you’re here, Pero.”  Melting into the soft tender kiss he presses to your mouth, you try not wince when his soft lips meet your bruised ones but fail miserably.  Trying not to shatter in front of you when he hears your pained whimper, Pero wills himself to pull back with a silent reminder to handle you with more care; as he starts to check over your injuries, he asks delicately, “What happened, mi amor?”

One of the sailors who had joined the footmen in accompanying you and Lucia starts to explain before he’s silenced by a glowering look from your husband; Baronesa Tovar is not a woman who needs others to speak for her.

You give the poor sailor a reassuring smile before drawing Pero’s attention back to you and recount for him what happened in the square earlier.  Noticing that the Barón's hands have been cold in the mornings as of late, you had headed out today with a mission to purchase your husband some gloves made with the fine leather craftsmanship that the Italians are known for.  While admiring the buttery softness of a pair of large leather gloves handed to you by a lovely stall merchant, a fight had broken out across the square between a mob of over twenty large and angry Italian men.  The fighting horde continued their bout while moving across the square, barreling into families and unsuspecting people just trying to go about their day.  Caught unawares, the pedestrians scattered and ran panicked in an effort to get out the way of the oncoming melee.  The fleeing crowd had ran in your direction and you and Lucia could not get out of the way fast enough – pushed down to the ground, in your attempt to shield Lucia as the two of you tried to crawl to the side of the street and away from the mob, your dress had been torn by the flurry of feet as runners stampeded, your body kicked more than once.  At one point, someone had produced a pistol and shot at several buildings; and while that effectively ended the fight, several windows had shattered and some of the errant glass had fallen and cut your arm.

Pero feels absolutely sick at the picture his mind conjures of you being physically pushed and kicked, imagining how scared you must have been; he wants nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and comfort you, but without knowing the extent of your injuries, he settles for pressing his forehead to yours and whispering that everything will be okay now.  You believe him.

With some difficulty, Pero helps you stand and brings you back to the ship; both of you agreeing that when the doctor is called, it should be to the safety and comfort of your own quarters.  Though ever gentle with you, the fearsome scowl on Pero’s face clears a path from the square down to the docks – the deep furrow of his brow accentuating the faded scar over his left eye, as if to challenge anyone who would get between his wife and her safe haven.  Calling out for medical supplies and hot water as soon as he’s onboard, Pero leads you to your chambers and sits you on your shared bed before falling to his knees in front of you.  Slumping, tension in his strong frame finally dissolving, Pero lays his head in your lap and lets a few tears fall at the relief of finally getting you back home, safe.  You stroke your husband’s soft curls lovingly, understanding all of him and letting his devotion wash over you - it brings you a calm that you haven’t felt for several hours now.

In silence, you let Pero tend to your cuts and scrapes, eyes never leaving his handsome face as you watch him concentrate on being gentle with his big, sometimes clumsy hands.  Pero washes your face and hands, wiping away all evidence of the time you spent on the hard stone streets of the square, then takes care to thoroughly clean your injuries.  When you hiss at the sting from the salve he applies to the cut on your arm, Pero murmurs, “Be good for me, Baronesa,” and distracts you momentarily from the pain with that sweet smile of his that he knows makes you melt.

Finally comes the point that Pero has been dreading; he undresses you carefully to tend to the injuries on your body, hoping none will be too serious.  Once he has you stripped to the barest of your undergarments, he takes in the bruising that’s starting to show on your legs, hips and back and thinks he might cry again; his beautiful wife, so brave and strong – he cannot believe you sustained these injuries and still allowed him to move you about as he has without complaint.  As if reading his mind, you run a finger through your husband’s scruff that you love so much and try to lighten his mood; nodding towards your discarded dress on the floor, you joke, “I do not think I will be wearing that dress again.”

Half serious, Pero replies, “I think I will bring it to the Polizia tomorrow, when I demand answers for how they allowed what happened in the square to transpire.”

“Pero.”

“Or we throw it over the side of the ship,” he shrugs, a little bit a light returning back to his eyes when he sees your good humour is unscathed; permitting himself to hold you close, Pero breathes his first calm breath since Miguel interrupted his meeting, inhaling your soft perfume.  Seeing Pero in a better mood instantly lifts your spirits, and while in the safety of his loving arms, you give him a playful little wiggle and press your barely clad body to his. 

“Dulce,” he warns, voice dipping low at your giggles.  To show him it’s just a little bit of teasing, you straighten up immediately and allow Pero to run the warm cloth over your body and finish cleaning you up before dressing in your most modest nightgown without any more shenanigans. 

The doctor who is called leaves a short while later, declaring that both you and Lucia will be fine and that a few weeks of lightened activity and rest should heal your injuries without issue.  It’s not something you’re looking forward to, but you agree with Pero that for the remainder of your time in Naples, it would be better if you recovered from the safety of the ship.

For the first few days, you enjoy the calm and quiet of your vessel, many of the sailors and staff taking the opportunity to enjoy some leave while docked.  But as the days go on, with Pero away for most of the day on business, you find yourself getting restless.  You read your books and write your letters.  You play your piano and even entreat Lucia and whomever remains onboard to play cards with you.  From the ship’s deck you can still see much of the city, and even though you have no particular wish to return on this trip (your experience in the square still too fresh), it unfairly beckons to you like a siren.  You’re bored.  And despite loving your ship, you’re starting to feel cooped up.

Pero does his best each day to finish up his work as quickly as possible so he can return to you, enjoying the warmth of your company and checking for himself that you’re recovering properly.  The Barón brings home delicious treats and pretty trinkets for his wife everyday, leaving no doubt that you’re ever on his mind even when apart.  And while you love your husband dearly for his thoughtfulness, you cannot help, while enjoying his gifts from within the boundaries of a ship that once represented freedom to you, feeling a bit envious at being unable to go out and procure them for yourself.  Pero can tell that you’re feeling a bit out of sorts, not your usual cheerful self; he so hates to see the wings of his pretty dove clipped – it saddens him just as much to see you try to hide your melancholy from him.  And although he cannot agree to lift the current restrictions on your movements, he deeply wishes for a way to make your so-called confinement as pleasant as possible.

The morning that marks the start of your last week in Naples, you wake to an absolute ruckus coming from the ship deck; for a moment you feel a stab of fear, unused to such loud noises and voices without having been given some forewarning.  You must still be feeling some effects of your recent scare, you think; upon listening a bit more carefully, you relax to the realization that the voices are primarily instructive and even calm.  But it’s still much too early for this level of activity from the deck – the footsteps and voices you hear must be from at least double the amount of people you would normally expect to be up at this time of day.  Also unusual is that you’ve woken up to an empty bed; every day following the incident in the square, you’ve woken up to your husband curled around you, arms and legs thrown over your body like protective amour.  You don’t think you particularly like today’s change, but it makes sense – you can’t imagine whatever is going on outside to be taking place without your Pero’s permission.  Not especially looking forward to another day of doing the same things again within the same confines of the ship, you lay in bed for a while longer, at least until the noises start to die down and your curiosity gets the better of you.

The sight that greets you as you open the door to the deck nearly knocks you off your feet.  Somehow, it’s not a wooden ship’s deck that you’re now gazing upon, but a colourful and enchantingly idyllic scene, something that could have been painted by a great master of the arts.  For a moment, you have to pinch yourself, is this a dream? 

You step through the doorway from the ship’s hold into an ethereal garden – blooming flowers have overtaken every inch of the ship’s deck: thick braided garlands of roses, violets, and peonies wrap wondrously around every one of the ship’s railings, big bright pots of lilacs, azaleas and irises line the sides of the ship and surround a makeshift sitting area where some garden furniture you’ve never seen before has been arranged.  Even the mast has been decorated to look like a spring maypole, intertwining vines of clematis and jasmine crisscross all the way down from the crow’s nest so tightly you can barely see any of the dark wood that normally centres your great vessel.  Every bow is positively dripping with wisterias, reminding you for a moment of your beloved Bridgerton House.  You walk slowly through the dreamlike scene, weaving between the lush plants and the fresh, bold flowers.   Brushing your hand over the railing as you meander, your fingertips flutter at the soft feel of the blooming petals and your eyes brighten at the rainbow hues that paint every perimeter inch of the ship.  Your nose breathes in the sweet and intoxicating floral scent that now dances lightly in the air.  You close your eyes and inhale.  Your eyes open again with a soft exhale.  Repeat.

You’re turning around slowly, trying to take in the entirety of your magical surroundings when your eyes land on your beaming husband, standing like a handsome faerie king holding an exquisite bouquet of your favourite peonies in his hand, waiting for his pretty queen to take in all his hard work.  Despite the residual pain you still feel a bit in your sides, you launch yourself into Pero’s arms, throwing your own around his neck and passionately press your lips to his.  Mouth opening, you let Pero lick in and explore, before pulling yourself up onto your toes and suck on his tongue eagerly.  Pero pulls you in tightly and when he feels your tongue stroke behind his teeth, lets loose a deep vibrating hum of want that reverberates through you, straight to your core.  With a quick nibble to your bottom lip and a few chasing flutter kisses, Pero reluctantly pulls away; he’s sure there are curious eyes all over the ship deck, even if they are currently concealed by the splendid greenery that’s overtaken the space.

When he steps back look at you, the expression on your face almost gives Pero enough reason to throw modesty and decorum out the window, grab at your enticing curves and throw you down amidst the lush fauna he’s brought onto the ship to have his way with you.  Almost.  Your eyes shine bright and twinkle, there’s a fresh glow to your cheeks, and your smile is the widest that he’s seen in weeks: you’re alive again.

“Pero,” you cry in bliss, “what is all this?”

The Barón gently cradles your head in his hand and reverently strokes the soft hair of his beloved Baronesa, “Mi amor, I could tell that staying confined to the ship has not been agreeing with you.  If you cannot go out to explore and play in the wide world, then I will do my best to bring the wide world to you.  Now, instead of a cold, dreary ship deck, I hope you will enjoy the remainder of the week before we set sail in your own private garden.”

You could cry – what did you ever do to deserve the love and devotion of your perfect husband?  He forever thinks of your comfort and the wellness of your heart – but he does so much more than just take care of you or do things that make you happy, he’s the reason for your joy, for your very being.  You cannot stop murmuring, Thank you thank you thank you, into his chest as he holds you close, not only to him but for him.

The flowers last a week which is precisely how long you need them to last.  During those final days before your fleet sets sail, you find yourself soothed every time you enter or sit in your personal secret garden; second, by the tranquility and peacefulness of your botanical hideaway, and first, by the knowledge that you have the love of the kindest, sweetest man on earth.

Leaning now along the once again bare wood railing, with the salty sea wind blowing through your hair, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.  The patchy facial hair of your husband tickles your cheek as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple and whispers in your ear, “Happy to be on our way, Dulce?”

Turning in his arms, you snuggle into his safe hold; tucking yourself under his chin, you sigh into Pero’s neck, “Just happy, mi amor.”

[aajjks]

Fa(i)lling (JJK.)

synopsis. He’s so embarrassing, pathetic, super bad at lying and hopelessly in love with you.

pairing: secret soft yandere simp!jungkook x barista!reader.

warnings. Soft yandere, fluff, manipulation, obsession, lying, mentions of stalking, he’s such a pathetic fool in love 😭, fluffy fluffy fluffy!!

note. happy late Valentine’s Day 💌 share ur thoughts & ENJOY! HAPPY HOBI DAYYY! 🥹🫶💌

part two of CRUSH.

Jungkook doesn’t like you.

And maybe the why his heart is pounding so abnormally fast is because he just wants to get over with this, he’s trying to convince himself; that,

That’s the reason why he is feeling all of these sickly feelings in his stomach.

But he knows in his heart, that’s not the reason.

The reason is you.

You, you who he wants to hate so bad.

But too bad that he’s so obsessed with you.

Jungkook taps his feet on the marble floor, his fingers bounce on the black table as he waits for you to come.

God, he’s so pathetic.

Why is he like this? And the biggest problem was? He needed to think of an excuse.

He obviously couldn’t tell you that he was here stalking— no, he wasn’t stalking you! He was just…. watching you,

No, that sounds even more creepy.

He is chewing on his lower lip, he’s biting on the meat so hard that it feels painful, “Jungkook?” He almost feels startled by your voice.

But the man immediately fixes his posture and clears his throat. You give him a sweet look as you sit down infront of him, the coffee’s in your hand.

Jungkook can’t help but wonder what you like? What if you guys have similar tastes? That would be nice— no, he stops his thoughts from getting ahead.

He should stop being so delusional.

Stop thinking, idiot.

“So here’s your coffee…” you begin the conversation, he notices the cold brew as you pass it to him, his cheeks tighten when he realises that it’s the same for the both of you,

And he likes it too. He can feel he’s blushing, your eyes are looking at him, you can sense his flustered state, just by his expressions.

Shit, I’m so fucking embarrassing!

Jungkook wants to drown in the ocean. He’s sure he’s having heart eyes like in the cartoons.

“I hope you’ll like it, what did you want to talk about?” You cross your hands, he sighs, he can’t bring himself to calm down, its like his body is on fire.

Why do you make him feel so helpless?

“U-Um..” he avoids your e/c eyes, he hates your eyes, so much, they’re so hypnotic,

and he can’t afford to speak the truth so he needs so focus.

“Can you..” he’s thinking so hard about it, Jungkook is the biggest idiot in the world, if only he could slap himself.

He can’t come up with anything that sounds believable.

Well it’s too late, now or never.

“Can you tutor me?”

You almost choke, he closes his eyes so you don’t sense the nervousness, “i-it’s just that I really can’t stand physics… I fuckin’ hate it.” He almost doesn’t stutter.

He is getting good at this.

“Because I’m almost failing it.”

He wants to see you often, more.

“Look yn you can’t refuse!”

“Ex-Excuse me?”

“Be my teacher I mean! J-Just agree already please!” Jungkook’s eyes are now open and wide, his tone is borderline desperate but yet he sounds so demanding.

Way to go jungkook! He thinks to himself. He leans closer to the table, “please?”

“U-Um okay, I guess?” You reply, you’re so confused. “But I can’t give you much of my time.”

He’s confused too, but he doesn’t regret his lie.

“What do you mean?”

“… I tutor a guy in my calculus class so… we need to discus and adjust on the timings.”

Jungkook’s jaw is clenching, he feels his skin itch at that, he needs your time only on him.

Fuck that dude.

“But I need you- i-i mean your attention- tutoring wise more!” He argues. “I think I’m failing calculus too!”

Another lie. What the fuck is wrong with me.

“Please agree yn… I’ll pay you double! I need you-your time! Ditch that guy!”

He’s so fucking pathetic.

“Umm… Jungkook okay?” You nod, seemingly in deep thoughts.

He finally sighs in relief and takes a sip of his coffee, it’s hard for him to contain his growing smirk but he can’t let you find him weird.

“Thank you! So… you like whip cream on your brew?”

He’s so dumb.

[hockeyboysimagines]

F*ck me like I’m famous

Chapter 2

Warnings: Sex, oral sex (Male recieving) talks about sex, some language, mentions of alcohol, fluff.

I’m so glad you all enjoyed the first part of this! Here’s chapter 2. Enjoy🤍

P.s. big shoutout to @cellythefloshie for all her help and encouragement, and picking the color of Vince’s car 🤣@jostyriggslover96 who I can’t tag because tumblr is insisting she blocked me when she didn’t for her help proofreading and all her ideas🤍

Josie followed Vince through the door of his apartment and really looked around this time. It was huge, high ceilings and large windows that looked down on the city. Modestly decorated, which meant there was no girl living or staying there currently or in the past, which was good.

“This is nice.” She commented as she looked around, eyes moving up the walls across the ceiling before landing back on him.

Seeing her in full lighting made him realize just how pretty she actually was. He knew she was pretty, but there was something to be said about seeing her in good lighting, and not a bar or his dark bedroom.

“Thanks. Do you want a tour? I would have given you one yesterday but I guess I wasn’t really thinking about being a good host.”

She giggled and set down her purse and phone “Sure. For the sake of your reputation as a good host that is.”

He rolled his eyes and nudged his head towards the hall. She followed him through the apartment listening to him talk about the various rooms in his house.

“A person could get lost in here you know. I did actually this morning.”

“Serves you right for sneaking out like that.” He smiled at her and stopped by the last room “And this is my room, but you know that already.” He waggled his eyebrows and she blushed and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Sorry again for leaving this morning.” She said offhandedly as she followed him back out to his living room and watched him make her a drink.

“It’s okay.” He shrugged “I mean I’m glad I saw you again, but if I hadn’t I’d just have to settle for the best night of my life ducking out on me like that.” He glanced up and they stared at each other for 5 full seconds before they both started laughing.

She waved him off “Get out of here. Best night of your life. I don’t think so.”

“I’m serious!” He said smiling and coming around to sit next to her on the sofa and hand her a drink “It was.”

“I doubt it. But what makes you say that?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Would I have asked if I didn’t?”

He chuckled and rubbed his chin “Well. I guess it’s nice to just hang out with a normal person. If that makes sense.”

“So your saying I’m average?” She stared at him over the rim of her glass, one leg crossed over the other.

His mouth fell open “No-I don’t-I mean-.”

She cracked a smile and started to laugh “I’m kidding.” She put a hand on his arm “I had a good time.”

“Well I hope so considering I’m not average.” He leaned back and looked a little smug.

“Says who?”

“Please.” He scoffed waving her off.

“Your awfully sure of yourself for a guy who only managed to bring home someone average.” Her eyes were twinkling mischievously as she took a sip of her drink.

“That’s not what I meant. What I meant was your just a regular person. You didn’t even know who I was. It was kinda nice.”

“I had no clue. Just thought you were some hot guy at the bar.”

“I was a hot guy at the bar.”

She pulled a leg up underneath her and faced him fully “Agreed. But why didn’t you use that you were a hockey player as a line.”

“I never do. I never have to. I just try and be nice and that’s usually enough.” He smiled and she could see exactly why that was enough.

Vince was the type of beautiful that knocked you off your feet when you looked him in the eyes. The type of beautiful that Josie had never seen close up like that. He was less than a foot from her on the sofa and it was making it hard to breathe.

“I can’t imagine why.”

“I would imagine you don’t ever have to use lines either.” He was looking her up and down, eyes moving slowly from her face to her feet and then back up again. She coughed to avoid squirming around in her seat.

“I don’t have to either because I never go home with guys.”

“So then why’d you come home with me?” He looked confused but leaned forward interestedly, eyes rows rising on his forehead.

“Well. I figured you were just too pretty to be a serial killer, so I rolled the dice. Thankfully I didn’t get murdered.”

He shrugged “It’s still early.”

Josie rolled her eyes and gave his arm a light tap “Well it was fun while it lasted then.” She took a sip of her drink as he spoke.

“Glad I could give you one last orgasm before I have to kill you.”

She froze, face reddening but he was laughing “And don’t try and deny that either. Your welcome.”

Josie blew out a breath and cleared her throat. He was killing her. Metaphorically of course, or at least she hoped.

“I wasn’t going to deny it. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, I just didn’t know it would come up later on.”

“Oh it came up alright.” He giggled at his own joke and shook his head before he looked down at his glass “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” He asked quietly, eyes flicking up to meet her own.

“I did, but not nearly as much as I think I’ll enjoy tonight.”

A mischievous smile spread slowly across his face and he set his glass down on the table and then hers. He leaned forward a little, hand coming to rest on her knee, eyes moving across her face to her mouth and then back up to her eyes, before he leaned in to kiss her.

Kissing Vince was great. It had been great when she was drunk, but it was even better now that she was clearheaded. So great that she would even go as far as to say it was the best kiss she had ever had, and maybe ever would.

Which would make it worse when this hookup thing they were doing ended.

But she had very little time to think about that because Vince was drowning her in the heaviest, most intense kiss of her life, that was surely about to turn into something more.

He pulled away for a second and came in at another angle, tongue pressing gently against her lower lip as he did.

Zing right in the lady parts.

She didn’t even realize he was pulling her to her feet until she was standing, and pulled back dazed. He nudged his chin forward and turned her around, hands on either side of her waist, steering her to his bedroom. Her heart was beating so loud she was sure the neighbors could hear it and her ears were blocked.

She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been here before. Last night the kissing and touching had been a little fuzzy due to the alcohol, but she’d only had enough today to take the edge off. He turned her around once inside the door kissing her again and kicking it shut with his foot. The blinds across the large windows of his bedroom were half open and a blazing sun had just begun to set, bathing the entire room in an orange glow.

He attempted to ease her down on to the mattress but she turned and pushed him down instead, climbing over to straddle him. He ran a hand up beach of her jean clad things on to her hips, pulling himself up a little to kiss her again, fingers knotting in her hair. Everything about her was intoxicating. Her face, her voice, even her smell drew him in and made him never wanna stop kissing her. Her sweater had fallen down and pooled around her elbows, and he tugged it off tossing it to the side and running his hand down her arms, gripping her skin lightly. She pulled on his shirt, allowing him to pull it over his head and toss it across the room.

She ran her nails over his bare shoulders, biting her lip as her fingers moved across his skin and rested on his chest. He was watching her, eyes piercing hers, moving his hands under her shirt. She flinched as his hand made contact with her skin, sliding up to grip the fabric and pull it over her head. He pulled himself up a little and let his eyes move over her, from her neck, down her chest and then to her stomach before he looked back up at her. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead and he never broke eye contact as he leaned forward letting his lips just ghost over her skin before he pressed a kiss on her sternum, fingers gripping the skin around her waist.

She let out a breath and her head fell forward as he did it again, hot breath against her skin. The strap of her bra had slipped down her shoulder and he reached around to unhook it and pull it away. His mouth moved across her bare chest and up her neck, hands coming down to unbutton her jeans.

She pushed him backwards, fingers running from his shoulders down to his abdomen before she sprung the button on his own pants open and pulled them down his legs until she was standing at the end of his bed. She slowly slid her jeans down her legs, glancing up at him as she kicked them off and fixed the band of her underwear, a small snap against her skin.

His heart rate had picked up by now and he watched her climb very slowly back up the bed, stopping around his waist and leaning down.

“Jesus Christ.” He hissed, head falling back as she let her teeth graze against his lower abdomen. Her lashes were casting long shadows across her cheeks, as her lips moved across his skin. She had her back arched perfectly, lacy black underwear on display. He watched as she glanced up to look at him, hooking her fingers on the waistband of his boxers and sliding them off agonizingly slow. The light was hitting her just right as she threw them to the side and crawled back up, kneeling between his legs. He shivered a little as her hair, which was tousled and messy around her shoulders, brushed against his knee.

She paused momentarily as she watched him gulp, and the slow movement of his throat as he did and it made her feel good that she was the one getting him so worked up. She propped herself on her elbow and very slowly took him in her mouth. His legs tensed up and he let out a sharp breath, one fist gripping the bed sheets, the other one coming to rest on his abdomen. After a few moments she pulled her mouth back up and then down, tongue swirling around him.

He was propped on an elbow now, the hand across his stomach coming to push her hair off her face so he could see every movement she made. He fisted it, twisting it around in his hands as she continued to move up and down. She had struck him as the girl next door type, but there was nothing innocent about the way she looked at him when she moved her eyes up to meet his own.

“Good girl.” He whispered as she pulled completely off and took a breath, nails scratching his legs. He gave her hair a tug and she paused running her tongue across her upper lip before she put her mouth back on him. After a few more minutes he couldn’t take it anymore. He gripped her by the chin and pulled her up to him, kissing her heavily and flipping her over. He yanked her underwear down her legs and and braced one hand on her left thigh and used the other to spread her legs wider.

Josie closed her eyes and relaxed her body, feeling his lips on her throat, and a jolt of pleasure as he pushed inside her. It was even better than the first time now that she could feel everything without the vodka induced buzz from the night prior.

He moved a little faster this time, hand coming to rest at the base of her neck, long fingers wrapped around it, squeezing gently. She opened her eyes to find him already staring at her, as he moved in and out of her. She felt hot, body tight and the best head rush she’d ever had as he quickened his pace. The familiar ache in her legs started to burn as he pulled one up to hook it over his elbow and braced the other arm on the bed near her head.

Her back arched, her chest got tight and she got hit with a freight train orgasm that made her want to scream till her lungs gave out. He was breathing heavy as his pushed became erratic and sloppy and he eventually let out a gasp and fell slowly forward, head falling in the crook of her neck. She reached a hand up and gave his arm a squeeze, feeling the tightness of the muscle underneath.

He picked his head up to look at her, stray curl still across his forehead and kissed her very softly. After a few moments he pulled out of her and laid on his back, attempting to even out his breathing.

“You okay?” He asked, head turning to the side. He was smiling sweetly at her and it made her want to squeal and kiss his socks off, but he wasn’t wearing any so she just smiled back.

“Me? I’m great. Are you?”

“Better than great. I think you should come over every night.”

She turned on her side as he did, and he reached forward pushing her hair off her chest and over her shoulder. She laughed and shook her head.

“You’d get sick of me.”

“No I wouldn’t. Trust me.”

She pursed her lips before she smiled slowly and glanced at the clock behind him.

“I-“

“No. Don’t say it.” He reached forward and silenced her by kissing her hoping he could steal her words.

“I have to go.” She whispered when he pulled away.

He sighed and rested his forehead on her shoulder, giving her hand a squeeze before he let her sit up and lean down to pick up her bra.

He watched her for a minute before he spoke “So since this is our second date.” He said leaning back.

She paused and looked over her shoulder, hair spilling down her back “You call this a date?”

“You don’t?”

“Uh no. I call this ‘we’ve spent two days in bed together’ but not a date.”

He smiled and turned further on his side, propping his head up on one hand “Well if that’s how it is, then let’s go on a date.”

He was surprised even as the words came out of his mouth. Everyone who was anyone knew he didn’t do the girlfriend thing. Not to say he would never do the girlfriend thing, but it wasn’t something he was interested in right now. Then again, he hadn’t really been looking.

But there was something to be said about her. She was different. He’d only known her 48 hours and he wanted to know her more. By that time he was usually bored and wanted something new. But he felt differently when it came to her.

“You wanna date…..Me?” She looked confused as she pulled her shirt over her head.

“Did my bringing you home two days in a row not give you that impression? Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t anyone?”

“I don’t know. I’m just….me. And you’re you.”

He frowned “I don’t follow-“

“Your an athlete. Wouldn’t you rather date a model or something?”

“Listen if you don’t wanna go out with me just say no. My heart can’t take your excuses.” He clutched at his chest.

She rolled her eyes “I’m sorry. Your just not cute enough to date.”

His mouth fell open and she burst out laughing as she continued “But I’ll go on a pity date with you. I guess.”

He smiled, slow at first until it stretched across his face “Your too kind.”

“When?”

“Friday? I’m not doing anything.”

“Sure. But that means I’m going home tonight.”

“Wait what? Why?”

“Because we can’t have a sleepover 2 nights in a row. It goes against the rules of ‘Dating” she quoted with her fingers as she stood and shimmied her jeans back up her legs.

“I was only kidding. I don’t wanna date you.” He patted the mattress suggestively and wiggled his eyebrows. But she wasn’t buying it.

“Nice try. Now your taking me on one.”

He deflated and huffed “Fine.”

She smiled and picked up her phone “ Walk me out?”

He bid her goodbye at the door with a very chaste kiss and watched her walk down the hall. He closed the door and fell into his sofa, eyes closing as he fell asleep, small smile still on his face.

**********

Much to his dismay Josie was serious about the no sleepover rule. Over the next 4 days their schedules, annoyingly, never seemed to align so he hadn’t seen her since Sunday afternoon.

Though they’d been texting, it wasn’t the same as actually seeing her. He had to slap himself, literally and metaphorically here and there to remind himself that he was getting bothered over a girl he’d known a week, and had sex with twice.

Granted it had two really good times but still. He found himself just thinking about her. What was she doing? What was she thinking? What was she wearing?

That one he’d actually asked and the picture she sent him made him sweaty. Damn she was hot.

He had to remind himself to slow down a little and play it a little cooler before he gave himself away. Though he was pretty sure he already had. Now that the season was over and the heavy celebrations had died down a bit, he was left with a whole lot of time on his hands to think.

For the first time in a long time he was going on a date with a girl. A girl he actually liked enough to ask. This was a big step for him and honestly a little bit of a scary one too.

He hadn’t told anyone about her either, number 1, because he knew they would make fun of him and he’d never EVER hear the end of it. And the second reason was because of something was happening that went beyond sex, he didn’t want to jinx it.

He spent the rest of the week doing absolutely nothing besides texting her, and thinking about her, and trying to persuade her to come over but it was no use. She was playing hard to get.

V:Come onnnnnn. You know you miss me.

J:Even if I did, I’m still not coming over.

V:Why do you hate me?

J:Where would you like me to start?

He let out a noise of frustration but smiled.

V:Where would you like me to start as in on the couch? The bed? My car? I’ll let you pick.

He could practically feel her face get red from wherever she was and he could only hope she was at work or something because it would serve her right for giving him such a hard time. He’d never had to work this hard to get a girl to come to his apartment, especially not one that had already been there.

He watched with anticipation as the three dots appeared and disappeared several times as she typed and then stopped, smirking to himself that he had gotten the upper hand on her.

J:Why not all three?

In his apartment a phone fell to the floor and he let out a loud groan. She was killing him. Slowly but it was happening. It had been so long since he’d done it he’d forgotten how fun sexting was. And this wasn’t even sexting. This was more like slow torture, but it was turning him on none the less.

V:Okay fine. You win.

J:Oh this is a competition? In that case I’ll up my game.

Which was immediately followed by another message containing a picture of her chest, completely covered by her shirt, just the very top of that goddamned pink bra and a necklace hanging against her collarbone. He felt his pants get tight and looked at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut. This wasn’t fair. She was beating him at his own game, and by a significant amount of points. It was usually him who had girls in a puddle, and here he was melting into his couch because she sent him a photo with a minuscule amount of cleavage that couldn’t even qualify to be called soft core porn. What was happening to him? It was liked been reverted to a virgin again.

V:Stop😭 please come over. I’m actually begging. On my knees.

J:Sounds like you should be saving that for the sleepover🤷🏼‍♀️

Damn she was good. He giggled a little and the two of them preceded to text each other until the late hours when they both fell asleep.

***********

Josie spent most of Friday shaving…every part of her body with the hope that silky smooth skin would entice Vince to touch her all over after their dinner date.

She was freshly shaved, made up and had just slipped on shoes when he texted her that he was out front.

He was waiting for her, leaned against the passenger door, looking at something on his phone when he glanced up and then down, and then whipped his head immediately back up.

She felt a little flip flop in her stomach as a small smile spread across his face when he looked her up and down as she neared him.

“Hi.” He said simply eyes lingering on her legs before they made their way back up to her face.

“Am I dressed okay?” She looked down at her dress and then up at him.

“You look great.” He stepped to the side and opened the door, still smiling as she came forward and slid into the passenger seat. It was a low slung, silver Mercedes that probably cost more than her life, but it was totally Vince. She situated herself against the leather as he shut the door and came around the other side. It was quiet for a minute when he glanced over at her.

She looked phenomenal.

Deep red dress, black heels, long hair hanging loose. He thought she looked hot that night in the club, but she’d outdone herself this time.

“We can always skip dinner…” he said glancing at her sideways.

She turned slowly “I knew you didn’t wanna be seen with me in public but sheesh-“

“Oh please. We’re fucking making out on the St. Louis times website!” He said laughing as he turned left “Being seen with you is the least embarrassing thing I’ve done in my life. I mean if you want me to turn this car around and go back to my place, your place, wherever I will. Just sayin. “ he said putting his hand out to emphasize it.

Josie was quiet and leaned down slowly. The car was dark and he couldn’t really see what she was doing but she was moving something around. She straightened herself out and leaned over towards him. She reached down and he felt a jolt of excitement, wondering if she was really about to do that while he was driving, but was even more surprised when she balled up her underwear and slipped them in his pocket.

“What-?” He felt his face burn, which was no easy feat, and pulled at the neck of his shirt. No one had ever stuck their underwear in his pocket before, although Schwartzy had tried once but it wasn’t nearly as sexy. She was smiling mischievously as she leaned back in her seat.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He asked shaking his head.

“Behave yourself tonight and I’ll be doing something else to you.”

He straightened up in his seat as he pulled into a parking lot “I will. Scouts honor.” He held up three fingers that had absolutely never been used by boy scouts and Josie burst out laughing.

Vince was so funny, the first guy who’s made her laugh like that in a long time. She was so used to guys trying to impress her with bad jokes and even worse lines, and yet it was so natural with Vince. Like she’d known him in another life.

He parked and when she reached for the door handle he gave her arm a small nudge “Don’t you dare open that door.” He said unbuckling his seat belt. He got out and came around to her side and pulled the door open, extending his hand to help her out. She felt a small blush come to her cheeks as she awkwardly swung her legs out and stood.

He looked confused, eyebrows furrowed as she stood up stiffly but then grinned “Oh right. Your not wearing underwear.” He patted his pants pocket and shut the door, putting a hand on the small of her back to steer her inside.

She sat down glancing around awkwardly at the people around them. They were all looking, most of them girls that appeared to be around her age with boyfriends, fathers or whoever, and they were all staring. She was confused for a second before she looked at Vince and remembered he was an extremely hot successful athlete who’d just won a prestigious trophy, and also had her underwear in his pocket. Not that they knew that last part, but she did.

“Why is everyone staring at me?” She asked leaning forward across the table. He looked up for the first time and frowned.

“Are they?” He too glanced around “Oh shit they are. Are you famous or something?”

She pulled a face at him but then smiled “No I’m not. And until I met you no one looked at me twice. So I don’t think I’m the problem here.”

“Oh come on that’s not true. I looked at you way more than twice.”

“Yeah because my shirt was see through.”

“Noooo-well okay that’s part of why, but I couldn’t help it, it was a nice bra. Are you wearing it now?” He leaned over to peer at the neck of her dress and she leaned away, covering it with one hand and smacking him on the arm with the other.

“Hey!” She giggled leaning away from him.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen what’s under there already. After all this is the most clothing I’ve seen you in-“ but he was cut short by the waiter arriving at the worst possible time. Josie looked moderately horrified and shrank in her seat turning as red as her dress.

“I uh-I can come back.” He gestured over his shoulder, lips pursed. Vince was giggling at her from across the table but shook his head.

“No it’s fine. I was kidding by the way. I just met her outside.”

The waiter cracked a smile and glanced at Josie who then too smiled a little bit.

“Are you ready to order drinks? Wine perhaps?”

“Yes wine sounds great.” The waiter left and Josie glared at him.

“Really?”

“Hey I had to give him something to tell the tabloids.”

“That’s right I forgot your a celebrity here Mr. Stanley Cup champion.” She smiled and picked up her menu.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

After the waiter returned with wine and took their order, Josie glanced around. Most of the people looking at her had gone back to minding their business thankfully, which left them to speak freely.

“ Thanks for coming out with me.” His smile was genuine as he continued “It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date, but this is…nice.”

She smiled back “It is nice. This place that is, hanging out with you is just okay.”

He squinted at her “I’m leaving you here.”

“You would never.”

“Wanna bet?” He was smiling cheekily at her from across the table.

“Sure. I bet you won’t. If you do, the only action your getting tonight is from those underwear in your pocket.”

His eyes widened and he looked at his lap, presumably at the pocket they were in and nodded “Alright. You win.”

She got him talking then about everything and anything, mostly the cup win and the celebrations that had followed and what would happen now that it was over. She was listening to him talk about it when she heard him say something that surprised her for a split second.

“When I have to head home for a bit.”

She paused and looked at him confused but then nodded “Oh right. Your Canadian.”

“I am?!”

She rolled her eyes “So when do you leave? I forgot you’re not from here.” She laughed a small laugh which masked her slight disappointment. She’d been having such a good time with him she almost forgot who he was.

“Uhm. A few weeks or something like that. It’ll be a short summer because of the playoffs this year. I’ll come back to St. Louis in August.”

“I see. Looking forward to going home?”

He shrugged “Yeah I guess. I might miss you too much though.”

She had just begun to sip her wine when she chuckled a little and made a sad face “Same. I’ll try and hold it together until you get back.”

He laughed but then she could see a lightbulb turn on “Would you-?” He stopped and for the first time in 5 days Vince looked unsure of himself.

“What?”

“Well.” He scratched the back of his neck “There’s this thing, when you win the Stanley Cup, everyone gets it for a day and you can take it places. It sounds lame, but it’s actually pretty fun. Would you maybe wanna come? No pressure if your embarrassed to be seen with me or anything but I just wanna remind you that I’m a celebrity and I’m great in bed.”

Josie started laughing and he felt a little bit better that he hadn’t completely weirded her out. Because he had weirded himself out. The words had left his mouth before he even had time to think of what he was saying. He’d known her barely a week and he’d all but asked her to come meet his friends and family back home. He didn’t regret it, but this was a little bit serious. He’d never thought twice about introducing anyone to his mom, or his friends and here he was thinking of doing it with a girl he’d only known a week.

“I mean yeah. That doesn’t sound lame. Sounds like something you should be proud of celebrating. If you want me to come to Canada I’d like that.”

“Really? Do you think you’ll fit in my suitcase?”

She glanced down “I’m not sure what do you think?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m pretty good at making things fit so.”

“Did you just call me fat?” She said mouth falling open.

“What-no I-I would never-“

“I’m kidding! Stop taking me so seriously.”

While what she said was joking, it had a different meaning to him. He would like to take her seriously in the sense of his relationship with her. It had crossed his mind during the week many times. She had caught his attention, which wasn’t hard to do but she had held it for a week now, which had never happened to him before. That meant something to him.

He smiled and shook his head “Stop catching me in bad jokes and I won’t.”

“Stop making them!”

“Touché.”

They chatted for the rest of dinner, laughing and talking until it was time to leave. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt more comfortable with someone who he hadn’t known for a long period of time. He held his hand out for her and pulled her to her feet. He thought for a split second about holding her hand, but didn’t for a reason he couldn’t even explain to himself. She followed him out the door and into his car, reaching for her seatbelt as he started it and turned to her smiling.

“So about that sleepover.” He said as they buckled themselves in. She glanced over and smiled, clicking the seatbelt “Are we still on or do you want these back?” He pulled her underwear from his pocket and held them up, handing them to her.

“Sounds great. I’m exhausted.”

He paused, key halfway to the ignition “Wait we’re not really going to be sleeping right?”

She smiled slyly “Take me to your place and you’ll find out.”

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"Loved, Wanted, Unforgettable"

A/N: This is my take on an alternative ending for the wonderful story "If I Had the Love I Needed" by the amazing @thought--bubble! You can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here. I strongly recommend reading them both first! You will not regret it!

Summary: Will comes by your house franticly asking you to pack a bag. You find out what he did and that he's leaving town...and he wants you to go with him.

Tw: ANGST ANGST ANGST (for no reason...life is just too good right now let's mix it up 😂), smut, unprotected sex, possible impregnation, oral sex (m receiving), facefucking, fingering, praise, creampie

A/N: And just so we are all clear I did get Jess's permission before using her plot!!

After he finishes speaking you stare into his eyes searching for a hint that this is a joke. Maybe this was a prank?

"Please. Pack a bag." He holds your hands enveloping them in his own.

"I- I can't just leave Will...my aunt...I can't just leave her." He can feel his heart break as you speak. "I love you. So much. But there has to be another way-"

"There is no other way!" He cuts you off dropping your hands angrily. "Matt will go to the police and I will end up going to jail!." He sits down on your bed running his hands through his hair panicking. He thought you would have said yes without hesitation.

"And what do you think will happen if we get caught on the run? You'll go to jail for even longer...its better you take your chances now. You won't get as much time." His leg is bouncing up and down quickly and his breathing is coming out erraticly. You kneel in front of him and you place your hand on his knees holding them down. "You should turn yourself in...show remorse for whatever it is you did."

He looked up at you tears prickling his eyes. He knew you were right. Running would only get him so far and in the end, he could end up getting you time as well as an accomplice.

"I- I don't wanna be without you." His voice cracked as he spoke bringing tears to your own eyes. "You made me feel wanted, loved and unforgettable." You smile at his use of words. The same ones he used the night he made you his.

"I'll always want you. Always love you, and I'll never forget you." He knows you mean it yet it doesn't reduce any of the pain he's feeling in his chest. You sit on his lap straddling him as his hands hold your waist and his forehead rests against your chest. "I'll wait for you...I know it will be long. But I'll wait." He looks up at you hope glimmering in his eyes.

"Really? You'd do that?" You nod and kiss him passionately knowing it will be one of your lasts.

"Of course, I would. You're my person." Will peppers your face with kisses feeling his mood lighten slightly. He's willing to go through years in jail if it means coming back home to you.

"Marry me." The words come out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop them. "I-I mean...you don't have to but..I'd really li-" You shut him up with a kiss as you nod your head instantly.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." Each word is followed by a kiss somewhere on his face. Will didn't move an inch the one word repeating in his mind. You watch his face waiting for a reaction. All he does is stare at you that same look painted on his face.

You squeal slightly as Will picks you up quickly and has you lying on your back followed by a hungry kiss. You both make quick work of undressing each other. Will's hands explore your body, he commits every curve and shape to memory.

You reach down and palm at Will's cock which earns you a moan.

"I- I want to make you feel good." You pant as Will leaves hickeys across your chest.

"You do. You always do." You roll your eyes and lift his head up so he can see your face.

"Not like that...I want to...I want to suck your cock." You rush out that last part as heat rises to your cheek in embarrassment. Will smiles and then laughs which makes you frown and turn away from him. "Don't laugh at me..."

"I'm sorry baby. Im sorry." He turns you back to face him. "I'd love for you to suck my cock." He leans up off of you and rolls over to your side sitting up against your bed's headboard. You move in between his lap.

"You have to teach me how. I've never done it before." Will holds your chin between his finger and thumb and leans down giving you a quick kiss.

"You're too cute." He leans back up and runs a thumb over your lips while the other strokes his cock slowly. "Just watch for your teeth. And oddly enough think of it as an ice lollie. But, no teeth!" You smile and nod.

You take your hand and you copy what Will was doing before pumping him in your hand. You stare at the slit on the head of his penis and decide to slowly run your tongue over it. You look up to find Will's mouth agape as he watches you explore this new experience.

You finally take him in your mouth. You've seen videos online but you've always wondered what it would actually be like to give someone head.

"oh- fuck." You look up at Will. His head is thrown back and his mouth is still wide open. You feel a sense of pride from being able to make him feel this good. He's always so focused on your pleasure and never his own. "Hollow your cheeks, baby."

You do as he says and get another groan out of him. Will pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail and starts pushing you down on his own helping you take him further down your throat.

"Breathe through your nose and tap my leg if ts too much." You nod your head and Will wastes no time shoving his cock further down your throat till he's hitting the back. You moan around his cock which only makes his hips stutter as the sound is better than any sound you've ever made.

He quickens still trying not to go too fast so as to not overwhelm you but still wanting to chase that feeling. "Oh fuck I love you so much...i love you, I love you, I love you." You feel his cock twitch in your mouth and you know he's close. As a chain of fucks escapes his lips you take him as far back as you can and hold him there. Flattening your tongue so they can reach a bit of his balls. "Yes- fuck! Just like that.".

You feel your mouth fill with a warm liquid. Will pulls himself out of your mouth panting staring at your face. You make a show of swallowing his cum and showing him your empty mouth. He smiles and wipes your wet cheeks, you hadn't even noticed you were crying.

"Im not done with you yet." You notice Will is still just as hard as he was before. "There is something I want to try." He pulls you up so you're straddling him. "I want you to ride me."

Your face is quick to feel hot again under embarrassment. That was something you also hadn't done, unaware if you'd have the stamina to keep going. Will reaches down and runs a finger through your folds slipping one ever so easily inside.

"All wet just from sucking my cock?" You nod as he curls his finger into that spot only he ever manages to reach. "You gonna play with this pussy while im gone? Imagining it's me?"

"Y-yes yes." He adds another finger slowly pumping in and out of you.

"God im gonna miss this so fucking much." He uses his other hand to palm at one of your breasts while he sits up and takes your other nipple in his mouth. You meet the thrusts of his finger feeling the heel of his hand rub against your clit.

"Fuck...im so close. Don't stop." The pressure in your stomach gets tighter as you feel yourself getting lost in all the pleasure.

"Cum for me baby. Cum on my fingers." You lean down and kiss Will moaning into his mouth as you cum around his fingers clamping down on them. "Thats it, good girl."

He slowly removes his fingers and wipes your wetness all over his cock. He lifts your hips slightly not waiting for you to come down from your high. One of his hands holds your waist while the other holds his cock just below you. "Sit on it."

You slowly sink down on his cock till he's fully inside of you. You place both hands on his chest as you bounce on his cock not bothering to hold in any moans knowing your aunt is too drunk to wake up. Will holds onto your waist and fucks up into you matching your rhythm.

"You're doing so good baby." He sits up and his hands move to gripping your ass. Will knows your stamina won't last long. "Put your arms around me." Your head rests in the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him. He helps lower and lift you faster the only sounds filling the room are your moans and lewd wet noises.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You could feel his cock throbbing inside you and knew he was close. And Will could feel you clenching down on him signalling you near your end. "Cum with me baby."

You nod your head and search his lips for another hungry kiss. He ruts into you harder over and over until he feels you squeeze his cock harshly and moan into his mouth. He shoves himself deep inside you one last time and cums in you not remembering or caring that he isn't wearing a condom nor are you on any birth control.

Will lays back down not bothering to take himself out of you and lays you down on his chest.

"Give me 2 days. I'll tell Nan...get some stuff organized. Then I'll turn myself in."

And he did. 2 days later you were crying outside the police station giving him one last long and deep hug. He kissed your forehead repeatedly. Whispering for you to please stop crying for him.

"I love you so much, baby. Take care of Nan yeah?" He looks towards Leah and nods. She walks closer and takes your hand helping you to finally let go of Will. It was hard convincing her to come here but she ended up agreeing to for you.

"I love you too Will and I'll take care of her." He kisses your ring finger on top of the new tattoo you both got. Too broke to get a real engagement ring you convinced a buddy of his to do permanent wedding bands.

Will knew you two wouldn't be able to get married before the police would find him so you both opted to remain engaged until he got out of jail.

Will wipes the tears from his eyes as he turns and starts walking towards the police station.

"WIll! Wait!" You run back to him and he's quick to catch you carrying you in his arms as you give him one last kiss. Will holds you against him tightly wanting to remember this feeling.

Soon enough he slowly puts you back on the ground. No more words are needed and he turns and walks inside the station.

And so you watch as he walks away knowing you won't get to hold him again for a long time. The only person who ever made you feel loved, wanted and unforgettable.

Characters are not minors. Will is 18. Made a mistake earlier, my brain wanted to make him a minor so he wouldn't get a lot of time but I changed it.

A/N: Do any other writers out there feel like they write so much faster when they're fueled by delusions? I started this 2 hours ago...and somehow finished the whole thing!!!!

Please go and check out the original story here! It is honestly an amazing story and there isn't much Will fanfics out there! He deserves more love!!!

Tell me what you thought!

Taglist: @thought--bubble , @valeskafics

[rubin-therubix-loverofblorbos]

CARMEN SANDIEGO INCORRECT QUOTES

Shadowsan: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out Carmen's birthday invitations. Ivy: Well, what are they supposed to say? Shadowsan: "Carmen's birthday". Ivy: So, what do they say instead? Shadowsan: "Carmen’s bi". Ivy: Ivy: Works out either way.

-----

Player: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it? Ivy: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?” Carmen, scoffing: Oh, please. Ivy, to Carmen: Hey, how you doin’? Carmen: Carmen: giggles and blushes

-----

Zack: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen. Player: That’s a snake.

-----

Ivy: I love them both, but how do I propose to two people? Shadowsan: Two different restaurants, one person at each restaurant. Twice the dessert, twice the applause. Ivy: Won’t people think it’s weird if there is a third person just sitting there, though? Shadowsan: I saw someone feed their pet peacock crème brûlée from their mouth at the French place on the corner last week: I think faux third-wheeling at an engagement is the least of your worries.

-----

Vlad: To be honest, I'm kinda pissed that I'm not asleep in bed next to the love of my life in a cottage with no obligations other than watering my vegetable garden.

-----

{I really need someone to clarify whether they're brothers or two deadpan Russians that Just Look Like That. Because they give such Gay Stone-Faced Lovers but idk. hm. [Looks at the To Steal Or Not To Steal Dip™️*] oh okay}

Boris: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night? Vlad: It was autocorrect. Boris: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."? Vlad: Yes.

-----

Boris: I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Vlad: Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal. Boris, getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.

-----

Boris: We should be partners. Vlad: You mean like, partners in crime? Boris: Yeah… that’s precisely what I meant.

------

Dr. Bellum: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right? Cleo: Nope, there's 26. Dr. Bellum: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T. Cleo: Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one. Dr. Bellum: You'll get the D later ;).

------

Cleo: The stars are so beautiful… Dr. Bellum: They're just giant balls of gas. Cleo: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then- Dr. Bellum: And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you. Cleo: Oh…

-------

Chase: I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

---------

Chase: What’s up? I’m back. Zack: I literally saw you die. You died. You were dead Chase: Death is a social construct.

---------

The squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one Chase: I will not let you down. Ivy: Sounds fun. Zack: K. Julia: No, I'm fucking not. Carmen: Do I have to be? Shadowsan: Please god, I am so tired.

----------

Shadowsan: Wanna hear some dark humor. Ivy: Yeah, I love dark humor. Shadowsan: Alright. Shadowsan: Turns off the lights Shadowsan: Knock knock. Ivy: Turn the damn lights back on.

------------

Zack, washing the dishes: Who the fuck used this pan?? Zack: Wait. I the fuck used this pan… Ivy: It was you the fuck. Zack: It was I the fuck… Shadowsan: Who cooks rice in a pan? Ivy: They the fuck.

-------------

Carmen: trying to buy a Father's Day card at Hallmark Carmen: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?" Associate: Well, I- Carmen: How about "You witnessed the murder of my actual dad?" Associate: No…Wait, wha- Carmen: You know what, I'll just get a blank one. Carmen: writes You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card.

-------------

Shadowsan: What must it be like to live in your head? Are there happy ponies in there? It’s really something how utterly delusional your optimism is. If I didn’t hate you so much, I might even be impressed. Chase: Huzzah! I got a heavily qualified and slightly sarcastic compliment from Shadowsan!

-------------

Ivy: Its hard to resist, I'm really sorry- I mean, considering your approach so far, you had us tied here for- what? Hours? And you haven’t even had us confirm what exactly we are! Chase: What are you then? Ivy: I'm a Virgo!

--------------

Zack: I once tried to play a pirated copy of Garfield Kart, when Garfield jumped out of my PC! We are currently married with three beautiful children and a summer house in Lisbon.

--------------

*The Dip from To Steal or Not to Steal {no seriously they slayed. Those little gay boys served every bit of cunt within the timespan of three and a half seconds}

ALSO, The Entire Video, which is fucking amazing. Masterpiece.

[cherryxcadbury]

11 with jude please 💖

so ik there were a lot of reqs for #11, but this was the first one I received so this will be my #11;)

2nd person pov

“Why do you have chicken in your purse?” You asked your best friend, Natalia as you both looked on at the pitch.

“Not paying for that over prices stadium shit.” Natalia explained, as she happily ate her chicken nuggets in peace while people began to fill in the seats after half time.

You two were both huge Bayern fans. So when they posted on their social media, a giveaway for two tickets up close to the pitch, it didn’t take much for you two to submit about a thousand entries. And somehow, you guys won.

The score was 0-0, against Bayern’s biggest rivals, Dortmund. In honesty, Dortmund usually tended to get thrashed by Bayern, but they were the biggest competition in the Bundesliga.

“Look! Bellingham!” People called from behind you.

You angled your head and saw as Jude Bellingham was leading the charge back from the break onto the pitch. The nineteen year old captain had even the Bayern fans in awe of him.

“I hate him but he’s hella fit.” Natalia admitted, to which you only nodded in response.

He was good yes. Okay fine. He was really good. But you considered him overrated.

“There are way more options for captains though. I don’t know why the nineteen year old is the captain.” You grumbled, honestly a bit angry because of how close Jude had gotten to assisting.

“Says the one who’s no older than nineteen. Also bro, you know he deserves to be captain. Have you seen the way he is on the field. Captain material. And I say this as a lifelong Villa and Bayern fan.” Natalia responded.

You looked to her to see a brow raised in your direction.

“You’re more competitive than half the players I swear.” Natalia laughed.

“Chicken?” She offered, holding her hand out.

You chuckled before waving her hand away.

“Second half’s about to start.” You mumbled.

“WOOOOO MIA SAN MIA!” Natalia cheered, eliciting more cheers from fellow Bayern fans.

“What does Mia San Mia even mean?” You asked her, as Dortmund made their way up the pitch.

Natalia scoffed and turned to you, “You do not deserve to be wearing that Alphonso Davies kit right now.”

“In my defense, I’m not German!” You exclaimed.

“Y/N! I am literally from fucking Ecuador, I don’t know German either but at least I know Mia San Mia! Fake fa-”

She started to say before being cut off by you. Dortmund’s offense was getting suspiciously close to the Bayern net. You were tempted to grimace as Neur was out with a knee injury, not that his replacement was bad by any means.

The stadium almost fell silent as the ball made it to Bellingham’s feet. He was successful in weaving in and out of players, before the ball was deflected. And it was coming straight at you.

Your worst nightmare. You’d love football since you were a little girl. You’d watch it all the time, with or without your family. The one thing that kept you away from live matches as a kid was potentially being hit by a ball. The thought embarrassed you to no end. And now, it was about to happen, in front of tens of thousands of people.

This was what you deserved for sitting in the front row.

“DUCK!” Natalia screamed into your ear, physically pushing you down.

Luckily the ball didn’t hit you, and went flying to the row behind you. Hitting a poor unsuspecting boy.

“Oh shit.” Natalia looked at the wailing kid sympathetically.

You also felt your heart pang in sadness for the clearly hurt boy. But you also thought it was kind of funny. He’d been kicking the back of your seat for the whole first half. And you wanted to smirk and mention karma, but you were better than that.

You grabbed the makeshift ice pack in your bag, which was really just a bag of a lot of ice you’d bought at the stadium and handed it to the boy’s mother.

“I don’t have much but this might help.” You said, placing the bag in the mother’s hands who smiled at you gratefully.

The boy also thanked you, silently calling a truce.

You and Natalia told the boy jokes to help distract him from the pain but eventually it was drowned out by cheering on your side.

“Turn around!” The injured boy gestured.

You did so and saw Jude Bellingham jogging over to your area. Hence why you could barely hear anything. You turned back to see the gleaming boy, figuring it would probably be easier if he was closer to Jude.

So, you picked the boy up and transferred him to your seat, closer to the pitch, while you climbed over to sit a row behind.

Unbeknownst to you, the kind act did not go unnoticed by Jude, who’d seen it while approaching.

“I’m sorry about that bud.” The footballer smiled apologetically, ruffling the kid’s hair.

The boy just smiled, “It’s okay. You weren’t the last one to hit it anyways.”

“You doing better now eh?” Jude smiled.

“Yeah! She helped me by giving me ice and telling me jokes.” The boy answered, gesturing to you while he spoke.

This caused Jude’s eyes to flicker towards your for a second. A smirk found its way onto his face while you started blushing red.

“Ah well your sister seems very nice.” Jude emphasised the “sister”.

The boy quirked his brow.

“She’s not my sister. She just helped me after the ball hit me.” The child explained. “Ah, should’ve figured based off of the opposing kits.” Jude replied, noticing now that you sported a Bayern kit while the child was decked out in BVB gear.

You turned to Natalia who just sat there smugly, watching it all happen.

“Don’t talk much now do you?” Jude asked you, the smirk ever so present on his face.

You wanted to stop from blushing again. But you couldn’t. Instead you had to switch the topic.

“Don’t you have a game to play smart one?” You shot back, snark in your voice as you forced him to turn back to the field where the players were still waiting.

“If I were you, I’d go back to playing now. The quicker you lose, the quicker you get this over with.” You advised.

That flared some sort of pride and fighting spirit in Jude. He smiled to himself turning to go back to the pitch.

But just before that he looked at you and said, “I’ll show you why I’m the golden boy for a reason.” before stocking off.

Within a few seconds, the game resumed.

“I swear the golden boy was Gavi.” Natalia wondered aloud.

And you couldn’t help but laugh.

Approximately 48 minutes later, the match was at a standstill 2-2. Jude had already smirked in your direction after scoring. You however didn’t return anything because what if he had a girlfriend or something that was directed towards?

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Natalia breathed as Adeyemi made his way up the field.

That boy was faster than lightning.

Adeyemi handed it off to Jude who then passed it to Gio, outside of the box. The American faked Alphonso fucking Davies and shot the ball at such an angle that no one expected a goal out of it. But it was. It was a goal indeed. You bit your lip as Dortmund players and fans alike celebrated, going insane.

You could only think to keep your head down to shield yourself from the embarrassment.

15 minutes later

Most fans had left but you and Natalia hung around to take pictures considering how close you were to the field. Your back was currently facing the pitch as Natalia stood on top a seat to get your optimal angles.

“You look so good!” Natalia smiled, clicking away.

But she stopped abruptly.

You noticed.

“Oh are we done? Should we go now?” You asked her.

“Turn.” She commanded.

You whipped you head around to see Jude Bellingham shirtless. Kit in his hand, elbows leaning against the miniature wall.

“You.” You gulped, waiting to get trashed after seeing the look on his face.

“Unfortunate that you guys lost today.” He smiled.

“Yeah well match fixing’s always a possibility. Sure you know a lot about the match fixing.”

You referenced the interview which got Jude fined in the previous year.

Jude’s smile stayed, turning into an ever present smirk.

“Touché I suppose.” Before handing you his kit.

You grasped it, before looking in disgust.

“I don’t do Dortmund kits.” You tried handing it back to him.

You were actually freaking out on the inside.

“This is a Jude Bellingham kit though.” He bit his lip as he maintained eye contact with you.

“Even worse.”

He just laughed.

“Listen sweetheart. I’d take a good look at that kit before you feed it to the dogs.”

And with that, he winked, jogging into the tunnel.

“You better fucking open that kit.” Natalia commanded, holding it up.

Both your eyes shot to something scribbled in the corner.

Call me;) 49*** *** **** -Jude

Your mouth hung wide open at this point. He was into you.

“W fucking rizz Bellingham. W rizz.” Natalia muttered.

“You’re going to be a WAG Y/N.” Natalia’s hands clamped over her mouth.

You rolled your eyes at your best friend’s wild imagination. But secretly, 99% of you, hoped that what she was saying, was true

[magickman1234]

That Final Last Bit

(Please reblog if you enjoy!)

My goodness you’ve let go of that final last of resistance babe. I catch you eating when without prompt and prompting food be brought to you. You don’t really have it in you to resist anymore. I’ve gotten you so comfortable with accepting treats, extras and snacks. Each meal multilayered with multiple desserts or treats at night. We load you up and let you fill out the indent in the couch more. You truly now embody the meaning of “spoiled” with nearly every ounce of your being. You’ve always been fat but you used to be such an athletic fatty but now stairs and semi-longer walkways take your breath away. Your physique ruined by my tender care, an instance you take care and relax, and a willingness to discover what indulgence you can’t turn down. You’ve slowly went from that perky fast fat girl to the careful rotund butterball you are. I can see not only has my spoiling of you made you physically soft but I can feel your last bits of definition dissolve into lard.

The slightest movement of your body or the slightest tap and your flesh quivers and bounces. Ripples across the thick jiggly sheath of adipose tissue taking over your life. Somewhere buried under all that lard is that plump but in shape fat girl. Remember how socially acceptable your body was? My would even the average FA find you hot? Would the average feeder shake their head at me as I bring you food? Each added inch, stretch mark, roll another step towards complete obesity.

You’ve long past the point of curvy or ultra curvy as your body now has to get creative as all the obvious spots are filled to compactly. You’ve traded in your thick fat yet shapely ass for your more delicious wide gelatin mold of an ass shelf that just spreads and gets so flabby you never stop bouncing when you walk. Your belly hangs so low anyone can see sway in even when your clothes cover it. The slow explosion of your upper arms as the fat just keeps pushing into them and down into your lower arms as the final frontier of your wrists get conquered too.

Every moment of your day is now changed every aspect of your life to make room for more fat. You’re swamped by your own blubber when you sit fighting your tits to reach things. The hot comfort you now unconsciously have in resting your device on your stomach. The utter look of exhilaration and fear in the humiliation of how heavy you are surround by your curves and assets turned to weighty fat rolls and explosive swells of fat that pile up around you. They fight each other and you for space, your massive tummy takes center stage in a way I can tell you find extra humiliating. It’s tasty when the traces of your unconscious pride in being that acceptable curvy fatty surfaces and is crushed by your sheer rotundity. Your hourglass is only findable in traces. Bigger tits turn gelatinous like the rest of you but you’re still stacked and your wide fat ass slowly pools around you with your hips and thighs. I know that embarrassment of a fat middle is the worse part for you because you used to have a real waistline but now it’s two massive fat rolls hanging in a lard only double belly. Total jello/pudding consistency with a slight clinch of the lard below your tits to maybe resemble a waistline. You give me these great looks of true humiliation and resignation when you catch me looking at inches of escaped tummy roll or lovehandles. You can tell you forget how big you let me make your belly until those moments you realize.

I now know why you used to ask me would I ever find you too fat to handle. I think an honest question or need to be reassured with a clear fantasy but somewhere in the last hundred pounds it’s slowly almost a plea. Like Violet as she’s chewing away crying for help. You can’t stop yourself now and I realize now some part of you desperately hoped I’d sour to our game and stop you before we hit some edge.

I think we went passed that now because you stopped asking and started eating more and more. The humiliation and consequences too tiny before the years of training and the long loss of your fitness and muscle mass. Your helplessness to your own pleasure evident when you orgasm until you cry versus cry like your old thin(ner) self would have. You hoped I was lying about taking you beyond that edge. Some part of you hoped I’d stop you because you knew once I started you down that enabling, submission inducing and fattening path of pleasure you really didn’t think you could stop.

I think you chose me because another more true part of you didn’t want to stop. You knew my ability to dom you as evil taunting feeder, sweet lover feeder and subtle farmer feedee shaping your environment to fatten you would overwhelm your lingering resistance. You’ve never been greedier and more gluttonous until after some humiliating detail is revealed or experience occurs.

Be honest the only one here in control is your hunger. From the outside it might appear I’m the dom or your the dom if they see my doting. But the reality is your gluttony is who we’ve both put in charges by removing that last bit of resistance.

[bleghbleghladydeath]

MORE JAYLEXXXXX HIGHSCHOOL OF COURSE

NEED TO REMEMBER TRIGGER WARNINGS: Thoughts and threatening of self-harm and suicide, cursing, homophobic slurs, censored, but still, sad Alex, self-hatred, thoughts of harming others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sixteen-year-old Alex sighed as sixteen-year-old Jay spoke away happily about some book he's reading for school.

"It's really interesting, you should read it." Jay said, smiling.

Alex stayed silent; he finds that if he ignores Jay that weird feeling doesn't bother him. If he doesn't look into those pretty eyes, then that bolt of pleasure doesn't go to his jeans.

"Alex, you, okay?" Jay asked, putting a hand on Alex's arm.

Alex tensed, Jay's always been a touchy person, but only with him, he isn't sure why. He looked over and felt his heart knot up when he looked into Jay's eyes. He shivered and backed away, he started speed walking to lunch, ignoring Jay's calls for him to slow down and his. "Please, Alex, your legs are too long, slow down!!!"s. Alex finally whipped around, and Jay walked right into his chest. He looked up at Alex who glared down at him. He seemed to squish into himself as he looked at his shoes. Alex looked around before jerking Jay into a closet. He closed the door and slammed Jay in a wall, knocking over some cleaning supplies. "Stop it." Alex growled, his hand suddenly at Jay's throat. "Stop what?" Jay asked, nervous as Alex tighten his grip a little, not cutting off air but making it tight.

"Don't play dumb you fa-" "What have I said about the word." Jay spoke over Alex, staring into his eyes.

Alex growled before letting go and sitting down on a bucket. Those eyes, those stupidly pretty eyes. He felt that shot of pleasure again as he thought about them, tears welled into his eyes. Why was he like this? This was wrong!! Why couldn't he get off without thinking of Jay? Why can't he spend five second without those stupid, big, solemn eyes invading his mind? He's going to kill himself if he sees those fucking eyes one more time, if he hears that voice!! Why, why, why, why, why, why!? He laughed a little, a slightly hysterical laughter, before he started crying. Jay stared for a second before walking over and kneeling down in front of Alex. He rested his head on Alex's knee, staring up at him.

"Alex, look at me." Jay said softly.

Alex growled. "I'm going to tear my fucking eyes out, get away from me!" Alex growled, shoving Jay off.

Jay stared, worried as Alex dug his nails into his arm.

"I'm going to tear them out and shoot myself, I can't take it anymore." Alex gasped.

Jay stared before quickly getting all sharp objects away, then any rope, then all the chemicals. He then took his jacket off and put it over Alex's head. Alex sat there for a moment before taking the brownish green, oversized, jacket and putting it on. He zipped it up and pulled the hood up. Jay then went back over and dropped back down; he rested his chin on Alex's knee before closing his eyes. Alex eventually opened his eyes and stared. Jay's eyebrows are furrowed and he's tense, nervous. Alex frowned, he didn't mean to make Jay nervous, he doesn't even really know what made him break down like that. He sniffed and stared, now he kinda wants to see those stupid eyes. He's confused, he hates being confused, tears welled back into his eyes, and he went back to crying, much softer now though. Jay didn't dare open his eyes though, Alex just needs silence. After a bit of Alex crying and mumbling that he deserved to die he was silent. "...M-May you look at me?" Alex hesitantly stammered, sniffing.

Jay slowly opened his eyes so Alex casee them, smiling softly. When his eyes were fully open Alex just stared, god he loves those eyes, he also fucking hates them. That jolt of pleasure, he swallowed, he kinda wants to choke him out but he ignored this thought, such an odd thought to have. Jay smiled softly when Alex ran his long, slender fingers though his hair.

"Fuck you.." Alex growled, pulling on Jay's hair softly, god does he love those stupid fucking eyes.

Jay smiled. "I love you.." Jay hummed.

Alex tensed but he leaned closer, his stomach tightening nervously. Jay sat up a bit, their lips brushed softly. Alex flinched when Jay softly removed his glasses. Their lips connected in a soft kiss, making Alex shake. Alex felt like his heart was about to jump out his throat, he can hear it in his ears. But then Jay put a hand on Alex's thigh and he's 99% sure he went deaf. He moaned softly and Jay smiled softly into the kiss. They pulled away and sound came back, the hustle and bustle of everyone outside, and Jay. Those pretty, solemn eyes, those stupid eyes. Alex took his glasses back and gazed at Jay silently. Jay lovingly rubbed Alex's outer thigh, occasionally tracing hearts or stars on his jeans, both silent. Jay rested his head back on Alex's knee. "You, okay?" Jay whispered.

Alex nodded. "I feel odd." Alex hummed.

Jay smiled and continued to love on Alex. Soon his other hand was rubbing Alex's stomach. Alex leaned back, the affection was making him sleepy.

"Alex." Jay whispered, soft as can be, like he's caring for a fragile rose. Alex looked at Jay. "We got class." he giggled softly.

Alex sniffed and nodded, standing up. He got his bag and then noticed that everything that could have been a danger to him was moved away from him. He stared before Jay jerked him out the closet. They started to walk to class. Alex then noticed he had Jay's jacket. "Do you want your jacket back?" Alex asked. "No, thank you though." Jay said softly.

Alex blinked and smelled the sleeve of the jacket; it smells heavily of Jay. He smiled and looked at Jay.