#when they move in together they get another one

[merakidoll]

onyankopon and eren were in love. two men who just loved one another, weed, and food. they thrived on being a healthy couple among all of the views that told them they weren’t supposed to be. they loved not hiding their love for one another in public, enjoying how uncomfortable those around them looked when they shared a nasty kiss. another thing they just absolutely loved was you. you were a person they snuck up on them, blinding them with your big tits, thick thighs, and pinkness. a ray of sunshine that fit well with the two men who loved black and hated human interaction. their pretty chubby ditzy girl.

“mmh” ony groaned, sade’s soulfully singing in the speakers around the home. while there was so much space for the three of you to do the deed - this felt more appropriate. in the middle of the room everyone stood naked, the contrast of onyankopon’s chocolate skin, to eren’s tan, and your sun kissed brown. eren’s tan dick rubbed against ony’s brown, pre cum oozing out of both man making a mess on their large hands. while eren’s right hand held their cock next to each other, ony’s left did the same. rough pumps in their palms and squeezed to one another that had their balls jumping. then you, being the glue; legs hanging over one of each of their shoulders so confident in them holding you up.

as they thrusted into one another, they took turns eating your cunt that was in their face. “guysss!” you cried in a shaky voice, toes clenching when eren’s pierced tongue slid into your hole and ony began to suck your clit like a lollipop. your low eyes watched their dick’s rub against eachother. how their abs flexed, and heads grew a little when pre cum drip out and get messy helping with the friction. ony moaned skimming his teeth over your puffy clit, moving his head back and spitting on it roughly.

he looked up at you with red eyes, your duck nails raking over his durag while gripping eren’s long brown locks. while you started at ony, you bucked you pussy up, legs getting tired of being in the split position, and pussy throbbing, cream seeping from you onto rennie’s eager tongue. eren truly felt himself becoming lost in your juices - so much so that his balls pumped and pumped until thick ropes went all over ony’s stomach and cock. “fuck princess look what you did” he breathlessly chucked, using both hands to squeeze them together - tight, and pumping harder.

eren whimpered in your cunt, your head falling back at the vibration that sent shivers down your spine. you moved both hands to eren’s head, pushing his face deeper into your cunt. eren slightly side stepping and using his strength to get your other leg off ony and both soley on him. “r-ren baby” you bit your lip, feeling how sloppy he was eating your cunt. his rough hands slapped your ass, and spread your cheeks bouncing you on his tounge. your body stilled - shaking as you came in his mouth. eren’s whole mouth wrapping around your cunt and slurping on your jucies with his eye closed and greedily.

ony still fucked against eren, his own orgasm following when he heard how sexy you sounded. he watched the scene in front of him like it was his favorite twitter video biting his tounge and groaning “awe fuck” when his dick let out everything it had to offer. when everyone finally separated, onyankopon gripped eren’s neck bringing him into a tounge kiss which you watched lazily in their bed. he moaned into his boyfriend’s mouth cumming at how good you tasted. “i taste good daddy?” you asked with a sheepish smile. “so good princess”

[leahwllmsn]

tell me I'm the number one girl in your eyes

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 2.5k

You thought that Alexia was the only person in the world who could never hurt you.

You thought about a lot of things. About how Alexia was going to be the one to propose. How your wedding was going to be an intimate one in your and Alexia’s hometown, by the vineyard. How you would have a maximum of two children, no doubt one of which was going to follow in Alexia’s footsteps.

Your life with Alexia was set. It was predictable, really. From the moment you met her back in Mollet del Vallès when you were children, to your first kiss in her backyard, to the day you moved to the city together.

Childhood best friends who fell in love along the way—it couldn’t get anymore perfect than that. Your families were neighbours, it was practically one big family. Everyone was looking forward to your wedding, and by everyone that included you too.

You had been dating for fifteen years (well, you were on and off at some point, but that didn’t count), so it wasn’t far-fetched that you were expecting a proposal soon. You and Alexia talked about getting married, it wasn’t a new subject for the two of you.

The only problem was that the proposal wasn’t coming and for the first time ever, you had a feeling that it wasn’t going to come. Ever.

You couldn’t pinpoint when Alexia changed, when Alexia stopped buying you flowers just because and when the conversations between you felt forced. Maybe it was after Alexia went back defeated from the Olympics. Or maybe it was after Barcelona won the Champions League and Alexia was everywhere but your home.

The distance between you grew and grew until you were left to beg for Alexia’s attention as if you were another fan and not her girlfriend, the person Alexia claimed she loved more than anything.

“I have meetings with investors tonight, for Eleven.” Alexia’s voice broke the silence in your apartment. “Might go on until late.”

“Okay,” was all you could say.

Another excuse, you figured. Another reason to avoid coming home to you. It had been going on for some time. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to bed at the same time anymore. 

Alexia’s figure appeared in the kitchen, she went straight to the fridge and took out her box of orange juice. Gone were the arms around your waist, the gentle kisses to your neck as you read the morning news. Her laughter would ring around the space as she claimed “only old people read newspapers these days, amor!”

“Are we still on for tomorrow though?” You hated that your voice was hopeful. Too hopeful.

Alexia finally looked at you, her brows furrowed. You weren’t surprised anymore that she’d forgotten. It was laughable at this point because it seemed that you were the only one still present in this relationship.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Dinner.” You tried to act nonchalant about it, as if it didn’t hurt that your own girlfriend forgot about your birthday.

Alexia stared at you for a few seconds, then nodded. “Of course. You know I finish training at four. Dinner is at seven, right?”

“Six.” And I thought you have a day off tomorrow, you wanted to argue. But you kept your mouth shut and let it go. 

Alexia finished her orange juice and grabbed her bag, stepping close to you to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

And just like that she was gone.

“I love you too.” You whispered to the empty apartment. It felt humiliating at times, to be the only one left in a relationship.

You wondered if Alexia still loved you. You couldn’t remember the last time she said those three words to you. You had a feeling that she stopped, that must be why she never said it anymore.

You wanted to confront her about it, to ask her why you weren’t worth her time anymore, but you didn’t think you were ready to face the fallout. You would be devastated when Alexia decided it was time to leave you. It wasn’t an if, but a when, because you knew it was inevitable. It could be tomorrow, or in a few weeks or even months.

Selfishly, you wanted to keep Alexia to yourself a little bit longer. Even though Alexia didn’t feel like yours anymore. 

You could pretend that you didn’t die every time Alexia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. You could pretend that it was fine that Alexia never held your hand as you walked through the streets of Barcelona anymore.

You could pretend that Alexia still loved you, and that you were still the greatest thing the universe had ever given her—her words, a few years ago.

Tomorrow, you knew Alexia would go through her day as if it was just another regular day. If you were lucky, she’d remember that it was your birthday. If you were extra lucky, she’d even give you flowers.

Above everything though, you just hoped that she would show up to dinner.

You didn’t think you had any fight left in you if she didn’t.

—

The sun was shining against your face the moment you opened your eyes. Out of habit, your hands reached out to the other side. You couldn’t help the disappointed sigh that left your lips when you were met with empty sheets. You relished in the mornings when Alexia wasn’t awake and you could hold her, even though you had to pretend to be asleep as she gently lifted your hand and slipped out of bed when she woke. You missed when she would turn around and peppered your face with kisses to wake you up. She loved being the first thing you see in the morning.

Usually on your birthday, Alexia would treat you to breakfast in bed. It was tradition, one that she started ever since the two of you moved to Barcelona about a decade ago.

For a brief second, you had a dangerous glimmer of hope that Alexia was just in the kitchen. But with how quiet your apartment felt, you knew she left.

Alexia forgot. Or maybe she remembered, but she didn’t care anymore. You didn’t know which one was worse.

With a sigh and an ache so deep in your chest, you got ready for the day. You went through your usual routine: shower, breakfast, tidying any mess around your apartment that was out of place. 

It wasn’t until an hour later that the doorbell rang. A part of you hoped that it was Alexia, but the thought disappeared as fast. Your girlfriend wouldn’t need to knock on her own door.

It was a delivery man. Surprisingly, with flowers in his arms. Your heart leaped to the faint hope that they were from Alexia.

“Y/N?”

“That’s me.”

“Must be a special day,” he gave a kind smile, handing the flowers over to you. “Delivery for you from… Alba.”

The tinge of disappointment couldn’t help but creep into your chest. Still, you gave him the best smile you could muster and thanked him.

Alba remembered your birthday. Scrolling through your phone, you saw more people who remembered it was your birthday, even people you weren’t that close with.

It was radio silence from the person who mattered the most to you though.

Sitting alone on your sofa, you realized that you had nothing to do. You cleared your schedule out, and Alexia would usually take the lead. It was tradition to spend your birthdays just the two of you.

You dragged yourself to Mercadona, wanting to buy yourself a small cake and some candles. Before blowing the candles out, you wished for the impossible; birthday wishes were supposed to be powerful, weren’t they?

I wish things go back to the way they were before

Most importantly… I wish my girlfriend still wants me

—

You arrived at your favorite restaurant at exactly six o’clock. You ordered a bottle of wine and finished two glasses when thirty minutes had passed and your girlfriend was still nowhere to be seen.

The need to cry was overwhelming, you felt the tears pooling in your eyes already, waiting for the right time to fall. But you swallowed the ache and forced yourself to think of something happy, because crying whilst being alone at a table clearly meant for two was pathetic.

Your texts and calls went unanswered. An hour in and your last resort was to call Mapi and ask her if she’d seen or heard from Alexia.

“¡Hola, cumpleañera!”

“Maps, hey,” you tried to keep your voice steady, but they were futile. You were truly going to sound pathetic with your question. “Have you… Is Ale with you?”

“Qué? Alexia? Is she not with you?” Mapi sounded concerned. She sounded like she was ready to fight her best friend for you. The fact brought a slight smile to your face.

“No,” you took a deep breath. You couldn’t believe this was how your relationship had come to be. “She’s supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, chica. She left a few hours ago, I don’t know where she went.”

“That’s okay.” You stared at your empty glass and contemplated on whether you should pour yourself another. You’d finish the whole bottle by yourself at this rate.

“Do you… do you want me and Ingrid to come over?”

The offer was sweet, your heart swell at the reinforcement that there were still people who cared about you. But you didn’t think you could go through conversations without breaking down.

So you politely declined Mapi’s offer and poured yourself another glass of wine. You were finishing this bottle, you decided.

It was a strange feeling. To feel abandoned. Alexia had never made you feel that way before.

Alexia was your safe space. She made you feel loved and made you feel that you mattered.

That Alexia felt like a lifetime ago, like she belonged to another, better version of you—one worthy of her time and effort.

—

The apartment was dark when you got home, but you knew Alexia was here. Her car keys were on the hook, and the shoes she wore earlier were haphazardly placed by the front door.

“Ale?” You let out a wince as you took off your heels, you could feel a blister coming.

As you entered your living room, you found your girlfriend still in her Barcelona sweatshirt passed out on the couch. She looked so at peace that you couldn’t help but pressed a kiss to her forehead.

As much as you hated how she’d been treating you, a part of you still had so much love for her. You knew you deserved better than this version of Alexia, but you didn’t think you had it in you to let her go.

Alexia stirred, not even a guilty look when she opened her eyes and saw you standing there. “Hey, what time is it?”

“Late,” you muttered, walking back to your bedroom. You heard faint footsteps behind you, telling you Alexia was following you. You knew she was watching you, you in your fitted black dress that stopped just above your thigh. It was Alexia’s favourite dress on you, hence why you decided to wear it tonight.

“I… fell asleep,” Alexia’s voice broke the silence. She must’ve realized her mistake then. A part of you broke when she said nothing else, not even an apology.

“That’s fine,” you shrugged. You stripped off your dress and changed into a t-shirt. When you realized it was an old, faded one which belonged to Alexia, you angrily took it off and tossed it aside. This was supposed to be your side of the closet, but over the years, your clothes and Alexia’s have blended together.

“Amor…”

You couldn’t remember the last time Alexia called you that. It used to bring you warmth, but now it only made you feel mocked.

“What, Alexia?” You turned around and the sight of her finally in front of you, of her finally looking at you, made you snap. “It’s not like I waited hours for you, looking like a complete idiota as the waiter kept on checking if I was okay.”

“I didn’t—”

You put a hand up, signaling your girlfriend to stop talking. “Save it, Alexia. You know, I wasn’t even surprised that you didn’t show up. But I thought that your girlfriend’s birthday must count as a special occasion, right? I guess I really do mean nothing to you.”

“Your birthday?” Alexia’s eyes went impossibly wide. 

You laughed, that evil laughter you hear from villains in movies. There wasn’t anything funny. You just felt so pathetic to the point that there wasn’t anything else you could do but laugh at the situation.

Alexia looked like she was close to tears, but you forced yourself to not feel bad for her. She made you feel so much worse these past few weeks.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, Alexia,” you sighed. You knew you were going to lose her after this. There wasn’t going back. “I’ve done nothing but love you unconditionally, but even that seems like it’s not enough for you anymore. It used to be though, so tell me, Alexia, what changed? What did I do to make you stop loving me? We used to be so good.”

The tears were flowing freely down your face. You looked terrible. Your heart was in pieces. It wasn’t a birthday you wanted to remember.

“Ale… If you don’t want me around anymore, the least you could do is tell me. Tell me so I don’t have to wait for you to notice me again. Tell me so I can pack up my bags and leave you alone.”

“It’s not like that,” Alexia finally spoke up, her voice barely a whisper.

“Then what? I feel like I don’t matter to you anymore. You’ve done a great job of showing me that. Forgetting that it’s my birthday is the cherry on top.”

Alexia was crying too, but you didn’t know why she was crying. Guilt, maybe? But this had been going on for some time, why feel guilty now?

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you decided, having to force the words out of your mouth. “I know you don’t want to be the one to end things, so I’ll do you a favour.”

This wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted Alexia to fight for you, to prove you wrong. You wanted Alexia to tell you that she was sorry and that she didn’t realize she had been neglecting you. You wanted Alexia to pull you into her arms and not let go. You wanted her to convince you that you were still the love of her life and that she still loved you more than anything.

But Alexia said nothing else and that was all you needed to know.

[gyaruhana]

Can you do a smut fic where readers dating thanos and she nearly dies in red light green light, and they realise how dangerous the games are and fuck like it’s their last night together? Im talking pure need and lust, desperation after realising the stakes of the squid games

Thanos / Choi Su-bong - I love you

Synopsis: After witnessing so much death and realizing you may both be next, you decide to fuck in the bathroom.

A/N: combined this with two other requests asking for bathroom sex.. i hope that was okay !! also not entirely proof read..

Warnings: smut content, fingering, praise, he's more gentle tbh

You had never feared death before. It always seemed so far away and it was the least of your concerns considering the debt you and your boyfriend, Thanos, share after betting it all on some coin a youtuber recommended. Never once in your life had you thought you would actually die. You always imagined that you'd die at an old age in a fancy house- maybe even with a kid or two. Point is, you didn't think about death because you really didn't see any need to.

Until today that is. 

You and your boyfriend had come across a great opportunity to earn lots of won by playing a few games. Considering you had already earned quite a bit from a game of ddakji, it was a no-brainer to agree to a few games. At the time, it didn't seem suspicious because the salesman who offered the card to you had given you plenty of won without a catch. 

Although you were knocked out with a gas when you entered the designated car together and practically kidnapped, neither of you thought anything about it- too excited at the idea of making money to pay off your debt with a few games. Any money goes a long way to finally paying off your debt so you can focus on getting your dream life.

Idiotically enough, you also didn't find any suspicion in the guy yelling something about how you'll be shot if you move. It actually made you and Thanos laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you both assumed he was just some drunk making up shit to scare people. How wrong the both of you were.

By the time everyone had made it to the halfway mark with plenty of time to spare, Thanos saw a bee land on some girl and made a comment about it. The girl immediately let out a scream and moved to try to get the bee off of her. It was amusing to watch until the sound of a gunshot rang through the air and her body fell to the floor. 

The smile on both your faces dropped immediately as blood pooled around her now-dead body. You and Thanos stood deadly still as people started to scream and run away out of fear. Every gunshot made your heart drop further because that could be you or him. The idea one of you might die right now was sickening for the both of you. 

The moment the sound of shooting stopped, the doll turned out and called green light again. Thanos quickly reached for his necklace while walking forward, desperately needing to be high right now so he could try to pretend like this wasn't really happening. Meanwhile, you didn't move a muscle - too afraid you might die here. You didn't want to be shot too.

The doll turned its head and called out red light making everyone freeze again. Another gunshot rang out making you flinch but thankfully the doll didn't notice the small movement. When it turned around again, Thanos put the pill in his mouth before closing his necklace and looking behind him. You still weren't moving, making him worry. You didn't have time to just stand there, you had to get going and make it to the end.

“What are you doing? You have to move,” Thanos spoke out as he gestured for you to come over to him. He kept still when the doll announced red light again but he kept his eyes on yours. He couldn't have you just stand there until your inevitable death. The moment the players could move again, Thanos ran toward you and grabbed your wrist before pulling you along with him. 

With Thanos dragging you along, you both managed to make it to the end before the time ran out. The relief the two of you shared was only there momentarily. You may have survived this game but what's to say you'll survive the next game? There was no guarantee. In fact, you weren't even confident in yourself that you'd survive the next game. After all, you only got through this because Thanos had dragged you to the end. 

As if sensing your fear, Thanos looked at you and cupped your face with his hands. “Don't look so stressed, baby. We're fine,” he spoke as he gently caressed your cheek. You gave a small smile at his words but the fear didn't disappear. He let out a sigh before tapping your cheek twice and removing his hands. He knew there wasn't much he could say to make this any better. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure. The only reason he was calm was because he had popped a pill the moment the first person died. 

As the players were slowly led back to the main room which they had awoken in, Thanos took your hand to keep you close to him. Despite the drugs he had taken, he was still pretty stressed about the whole ordeal. Mostly because of you. He couldn't fathom the idea of you getting shot like those other idiots in the last game. He'd definitely go crazy if you got hurt so he needed to keep you close to him. 

Even after you were already in the room, his hand still kept a firm grip on yours as if you might disappear should he let go. You didn't mind though. If anything, his hand squeezing yours was a huge comfort. A silent reminder that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. It made you feel significantly calmer to be close to him.

He led you to the back of the room and sat you down on the bed before sitting down next to you, his legs crossed with his hand still in yours. He looks at you for a few moments, analyzing your face and trying to read your thoughts. He didn’t like the way your eyes lingered on your lap instead of him so he raised a hand and tilted your chin upwards to make you look at him.

“Baby, you good?” he asks even though he already knew the answer to that question. You were quite far from good after all the blood you had seen. “Am i good?” you say sarcastically, mocking his own words. “Of course, I’m not! I just saw people die! Too many! Fuck, that could’ve been me or you,” you speak, your stress about the whole situation evident in your face and tone. “You gotta relax. We’re fine. Besides we’ll get out of here soon,” he says reassuringly as he looks at you with worry.

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you look to the side- away from him. It was quiet for a few moments as Thanos waited for you to say something else, knowing that you were thinking something. “What if we don’t?” you finally say as you look back at him again. “Don’t say that,” he speaks as his face hardens slightly at the idea that you might die. Fuck, he couldn’t bear the thought of you laying lifeless. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less of a possibility,” you respond with a frown. He knows that you’re right. It’s a possibility that he can’t just ignore.

“I swear on my life that I will protect you,” he says with a sincere look on his face. It didn’t make you feel any better though because swearing on his life in a game where he could actually die wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t say that,” you speak, repeating his earlier words as your face hardens. You didn’t want him to even think about sacrificing his life for you. You couldn’t see what you’d do without him. 45.6 billion was useless if he couldn’t be there with you to spend it. 

“Okay,” he says with a small smirk as he raises his hand in mock surrender. “I’ll swear on the sun and the moon instead,” he said as he lowered his hands. His words were enough to make you smile a little. Him swearing on the sun and the moon was plenty more significant then others may think. He swore on the sun and the moon he’d treat you right when he first asked you to be his. He swore on the sun and the moon to always be there for you after a particularly bad day when you lost your dad. Most of all, he swore on the sun and the moon that he’d buy a nice house and you could get married and live happily ever after together. He never ever took the name of the sun and moon in vain and that’s why hearing him say it now made you feel just a little better about the current situation.

Thanos looked behind himself for a moment before back at you. “Hey.. if swearing on the sun and moon isn’t enough for you, I could show you how serious I am,” he says with a small smirk. It didn’t take an idiot to know what he meant by that. “..what exactly does that mean?” you question even though you already knew exactly what he meant. There was a spark of desire in his eyes that matched yours as his hand gripped yours tightly. “I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” he says before standing up and pulling you up from the bed with him. 

He drags you towards the door on the right side of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Hey, open up. Bathroom needed,” he says and the door opens after a moment. “Ladies first,” he says with a smirk as he steps out of the way to let you go in first. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your face as you walk in. The guard led you both down the hallway and to the bathroom. Thanos didn’t waste any time in pushing past that door, dragging you behind him. 

With his patience wearing thin, he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was unlike his usual kisses that were rough and involved his tongue jammed down your throat. This kiss was more passionate as if he was trying to say something words could never convey properly. He quickly pushed you back into one of the stalls and kicked the door closed behind him, locking it with one of his hands. He spun you around and pushed your back against the stall wall. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbles after pulling away momentarily. He stares at you silently - memorizing every feature of your face. He could never get enough of how pretty you were. It felt like a miracle someone like you was with a dickhead like him. He couldn’t help but admire you. “..What? Is something wrong?” you say as you look at him with concern. You didn’t expect him to just stare at you out of nowhere and it was a little embarrassing. 

He shakes his head as he snaps out of his trance. “No, sorry. Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am,” he says before kissing you again like it’s the last time he could ever get to kiss you. In his mind, it damn well could be. One of you really could be dead by tomorrow evening and then that was it. He’d never see you smile or laugh again or look at him like he was the most important thing in the world. The thought was sickening. No matter how confident or cocky he’d act, he was still just Choi Su-bong. And Choi Su-bong was undeniably yours.

You put your arms around his neck as you kissed him back - the feeling of his hands on your waist keeping you in the moment and erasing any memory of the earlier events just for now. His hands slipped under your shirt to feel your skin before he pulled away from the kiss and opted for leaving kisses on your neck instead. He sucked at the skin so delicately and slowly, trying to savor his time with you as much as possible. His lips paused for a moment when they hovered over your pulse point before he kissed the area and bit it softly to mark you right above your pulse so he could feel your heart beat quicker - a silent confirmation that you were still very much alive. 

His hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants before he tugged them down till they dropped to the floor. His hand then pulled your underwear down too, not wanting to waste time with foreplay with the limited time you two shared together. His index finger gently traced over your clit making a moan escape the back of your mouth. “You’re already wet for me? God - I can just skip ahead then, yeah?” he says as he pulls his hand to pull his pants down along with his boxers. 

“Not even a little prep?” you question as you look at him. He laughs quietly before nodding his head. “Fine, but you better cum quick - I need to feel you,” he speaks as one of his hands finds its way to your hole again. He carefully rubs his fingers back and forth before slipping in a finger. His free hand went to cover your mouth when a moan escaped as he couldn’t risk the guard outside the bathrooms hearing and breaking up this moment with you. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he says as he starts to finger you. You nod your head as you try to keep as quiet as possible. He inserts another finger and begins to quicken the pace in which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you. He kept his eyes on your face, loving your reactions to his fingers deep inside your aching core. He had always observed you like this but there was something different about it now that you two had each other to lose. Everything was so much more passionate than usual. You found that your release came much quicker this time around as you released on his fingers. 

“God, you’re so good for me,” he says as he pulls his fingers out slowly before bringing them to his mouth and tasting you. He held eye contact with you as he sucked his fingers clean before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand finding its place on the back of your neck to keep you close. He slowly lined himself up with you, his tip rubbing against your entrance making him let out a small groan. 

He slowly pushed into you, burying his face into your neck as he stretched you out with his dick. He let out a heavy huff at the feeling of being inside you. It felt euphoric. You were so unbelievably tight as he continued to inch himself further in. You let out a moan that was muffled by his hand as he finally pushed in the rest of his dick with one stroke. “You good?” he asks as he pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you. You were still for a few moments before you nodded your head - finally adjusting to the stretch.

The moment you nodded your head, he slipped out before thrusting right back in. He let out a low groan as he repeated the movement over and over, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock deep inside you. You leaned your head back against the stall door as he thrusted in and out of you with a quick pace. His hands grab at your hips roughly to keep you still while he thrusts in and out of your tight hole. “God.. Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the bathroom. He loved being deep inside you like this. It felt so fucking good. Even more so now because it was a way to reassure himself you were still here with him and not one of the many corpses he saw earlier.

The thought you could be dead soon spurred him on to fuck you harder. He hated that possibility. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about you. How your head was thrown back, how your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, how you tried to keep quiet but struggled because he made you feel so good. He loved every fucking part of you - you were perfect.

"Fuck - I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much. Please say it back" he spoke as he thrusted into you quickly, his pace getting sloppy as he drew ever-so closer to a sweet release. God, he wanted to fill you up with his cum but he needed to hear you say that you loved him like he loved you. He needed to know you cared for him and wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. You nodded your head before forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I-I love you too,” you speak and the groan he lets out is so loud.

He immediately releases with one last thrust, making sure his cum spills deep inside of you. You released along with him with a moan and you both stilled. It was quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing that filled the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he came down from his high. His hands slowly trailed up from your hips to your face as he gently held your cheeks in his hands.

“I love you,” he repeats as he opens his eyes and looks into yours. There was very much a different kind of look in his eyes this time. A look that told you how much he really meant what he said. There was a hint of fear in his eyes too as he genuinely feared that he may lose you sooner or later to these stupid games.

“I know,”

[sincerelyneo]

i wanna be yours | p.js

“secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought”

💿now playing: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

❯ summary: Jisung has known for years that his best friend, Chenle’s, sister is his. So there’s no way he’s going to sit back and watch another man touch you—especially not now, when he’s already had a taste of you.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend

❯ words: 3.8k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (don’t do this), dirty talk, fingering, manhandling, jealousy, slightly toxic, praise, squirting, creampies, jisung has something to prove, arguing, older reader, jisung just being jealous and obsessive for almost 4k words

an: first post of 2025 and it’s an idea that i started writing on the bus lol. (also i’m a firm believer of the jisung is very possessive and clingy agenda)

Jisung could sit here and lie, say that the only reason he’s white-knuckling his fist right now is because he’s protective of you. He could lie and say that he’s just worried about the guy who’s currently got his arm around your waist because you’re his best friend’s sister. He could lie and say he’s just concerned—but he’s not.

He’s jealous.

So fucking jealous.

But he has no right to be. You’re Chenle’s older sister. You can handle yourself—you’ve told him that plenty of times, mocking him with that stupid fucking ‘Jisungie’ nickname you used to call him when you were all just kids.

And still, he watches the way you laugh at something the guy says, your head tilting back just enough to make his chest burn. He knows that laugh. He’s heard it a thousand times before, he loves it, but tonight, it feels different—feels wrong. Your laugh is not meant for this guy. It’s not meant for anyone else but him for that matter. 

Jisung knows he should look away before it becomes too obvious—obvious that he likes you, obvious that he's jealous, obvious that he can’t get you out of his head. But that’s hard to do when just ten minutes ago he had you pressed up against the wall of your childhood room—the same wall you share with Chenle—his cock pounding into you from behind without mercy, and you’d let him. Loved it.

How can he stay composed when that asshole has his hand on his girl’s—Chenle’s sister’s—waist? Jisung jolts as he hears his teeth grind together—fuck, was that his jaw clenching? Safe to say he’s passed subtlety. 

He sucks in a breath. This is Chenle’s birthday party, stop thinking about his sister you idiot. 

Actually, fuck that. 

Because why is that stranger’s hand moving up your thigh so easily? Why does your breath hitch when he leans in closer? Call him toxic; he doesn’t care. But Jisung wishes he hadn’t let you put your panties back on, so that asshole could see—no, feel—his cum dripping out of you as his hand traces your thigh right now.

He scoffs and nurses his drink. Keep calm, it’s Chenle’s birthday. 

Speak of the devil—almost on cue, Jisung feels his best friend slap him on the shoulders with a shout. He glances over his shoulder to see Chenle, clearly drunk, and while he usually hates dealing with his wild, inebriated antics, he appreciates that his best friend is oblivious to the way Jisung is currently eyeing his older sister tonight.

He settles into the empty seat next to Jisung with a grunt. “Y/N forgot my cake. One job that girl had,” Chenle shakes his head, guzzling down the last of his beer before grabbing another and cracking it open.

“She was probably preoccupied,” Jisung shrugs, trying to dismiss any thought of you from his mind. He doesn’t exactly know the right way to tell his friend that his sister was too busy being preoccupied on his cock, and that’s why she forgot his birthday cake. 

Chenle scoffs, “She’s always preoccupied. Look at her,” he gestures toward you. “I think I heard her with that guy earlier. Traumatizing.” He visibly shakes and squeezes his eyes shut.

“It wasn’t him,” Jisung growls.

Chenle swats his hand in the air, already halfway through that new beer bottle. “Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t matter who it was, still traumatizing.”

Jisung nods and purses his lips. But to him, it does matter because it was him. Him who made you pant so desperately, him who filled you so completely that your legs wobbled, and he had to hold you steady, his fingertips imprinted into your hips. Him who made you cum. Him. Always him. And right now, he wanted to make sure that it was only him. 

The sound of Chenle snoring in the seat next to him pulls Jisung from his thoughts and back to where he feels most at home—you. He swears he could find you in seconds; you’re like a magnet, an obsession in his mind. You’re all he can think about, all he’s ever been able to think about, and now that he’s had you, he’s never you letting go. Call him a maniac.

With Chenle undoubtedly crashed out, his eyes find you and the sight of you leaning in closer to that guy, lips almost touching, ignites a fire in him. He sees red—hot, undeniable crimson. Without a thought, he storms over. That’s not true, he’s been thinking about it for the past twenty minutes. 

“Y/N!” he calls out, but not to get your attention, to stop your lips connecting with that asshole, who Jisung is certain he’d be able to take in a fight. 

You turn, surprise flickering in those pretty eyes he loves, and that’s all it takes for Jisung to reach you. He steps between you and the guy, his chest heaving, anger palpable. Without giving you a moment to process, his rough hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back to your childhood bedroom.

Your own wave of crimson flushes over your body as the pink walls come into view and the lock you’d begged your parents for during puberty clicks into place. Jisung had been in your room countless times as kids, when you dressed him and Chenle up like dolls or begged them to play board games. But now, knowing he had you in a pathetic, desperate moaning mess not long ago and gave you the best sex of your life in this very room, it feels different.

He feels different. 

Nostrils flared, fists clenched, and muscles taut. This was not the Jisungie you once made friendship bracelets with or taught to roller skate. No, this was just Jisung—grown up, exuding a raw, masculine energy that was both captivating and intimidating. Sexy even. Perhaps that’s why you got distracted when he came over early to set up for Chenle’s birthday.

You shouldn’t have gotten distracted, or indulged, no matter how hot he’d gotten over the summer. He was still, and always would be, your little brother’s best friend. 

Snap out of it, Y/N. 

“Jisung, what do you think you’re doing?” You snap at him and back to reality. 

His eyes narrow, drawn into a sharp expression that shouldn’t make your thighs weak, but it does. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/N?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“That guy, Y/N.” He spits your name, a low growl that tightens your chest, “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m just going to stand by while you flirt with some guy.”

You scoff, unable to deny it. Yes, you had been flirting with that guy, but honestly, it was just a distraction to take your mind off the fact that you’d just let your brother’s childhood friend fuck you six ways to Sunday. 

“You’re being ridiculous," you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “You have no right to act like this.”

His nostrils flare again, and he steps closer, invading your space. You instinctively take a step back—because this is how it happened last time, his stupid muscular body and obnoxious height inching towards you (minus the argument.)

"Ridiculous? You think it’s ridiculous that I care? That I don’t want to see you with someone like him?"

“Someone like him? You don’t know anything about him.”

Jisung tongues the inside of his cheek, inhaling sharply before muttering, “He had his hands all over you in the middle of a kitchen. Pretty sure that makes him an automatic asshole.”

You can feel your heart racing, but you refuse to back down. "You’re getting jealous over one guy after we—after a one-time thing, Jisung. It’s so childish!"

The moment that singular word leaves your mouth, you see a shift in his expression. His eyes darken, and there’s a flicker of something raw and primal lingering in his irises. Desire, maybe lust, but definitely determination.

Without a word, Jisung moves toward you in a blur of motion, his hand snapping out to grip your wrist, yanking you back before you even have time to react. You stumble, your back slamming against the door with a harsh thud. Thank God, there’s a party downstairs because you’re certain the impact was savage enough to be heard if not for the music.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he cages you in, his body pressing against yours, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. His hands bracket your face, fingers digging into the wood behind you, holding you there, trapped beneath his gaze, trapped beneath his body. 

"Childish, huh?" His voice drops an octave, and you can feel the heat, the anger, the hunger, radiating off him. "I’ll show you childish."

It’s a threat, a rise to your challenge, and said with an edge that makes your stomach flutter—against your will.

You meet his eyes, refusing to show any fear, though your heart races in your chest. “What, you think you can intimidate me?”

A corner of his mouth curls up in a half-smirk. "I know I can do a lot more than that."

Before you can respond, his face closes the distance between you, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that feels like a challenge—not the passion he offered earlier, just pure desperation and need. His hands grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing harder against yours like he can’t get close enough. 

You can’t tell if it’s anger or the desperate need to prove something that drives him, but the way his touch grows possessive leaves no room for argument. You don’t want to argue though, not when his other hand trails down your thigh, hiking up your dress, and one calloused finger slips beneath the black lace of your panties to find your swollen, aching clit.

You draw in a shallow breath, one that only fuels his cocky grin as he nuzzles into your neck, his warm breath skimming along the delicate curve of your nape before trailing to your ear. His finger continues to rub slow, so painfully slow, circles into your clit.

“Was I childish when I finger fucked you to orgasm with Chenle just next door? Was I childish when I pounded this pretty pussy into your pillows? Or was I childish when—”

“J-Jisungie,” you gasp, voice trembling with need, cutting him off. But who could blame you? The slow, deliberate motion of his fingers, paired with the weight of his words, had you aching for more—more of him, more of this, anything with friction. 

His blunt nails dig into the tender flesh of your thigh, possessive and unyielding, as his lips skim the sensitive spot where your neck meets your collarbone. A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your skin. 

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

You let out a soft whimper of submission, your legs trembling as he edges them apart, giving himself better access to the spot you need him most—the spot he knows you need him most.

“Is that what this is about?” you manage to ask, though your voice is shaky, breathless.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He doesn’t need to respond because his fingers do it for him, their pace quickening against your sensitive nerves.

You can’t believe this is happening—again. Chenle would kill you both if he found out, but the thought isn’t enough to stop you. Your hips buck instinctively, meeting the rhythm of his long, slender fingers as they work relentlessly to coax an orgasm out of you.

“Ji–We can’t do this,” you whisper, though the words come out weak, entirely unconvincing.

His lips pause against your neck, but his fingers don’t. If anything, they press harder, toying against your clit, drawing a choked moan from your lips as he hovers just close enough for you to feel his breath.

“Oh, so we can’t do this,” there’s venom in his voice, as his finger sinks lower until it’s circling your entrance, “but you were ready to let that asshole do this to you in the kitchen.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a mix of shame and defiance flaring within you. “It’s not the same.”

“Exactly,” he growls, his fingers curling inside you in a way that makes your knees buckle. “It’s not the same, because he’ll never touch you the way I do. He’ll never make you feel the way I do, never get the fucking chance.”

“Jisung—” you start, but he cuts you off, his free hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes are dark, intense, and filled with something lust. 

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, lips brushing dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t kiss you, but nips at the bottom of your plush lip. “Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N, and I’ll stop.”

You try to form the words, to muster any resistance, but they melt into a moan as his fingers press against that spot deep inside you, leaving your legs trembling. It’s almost sick, really—how well he knows your body, as if he’s memorized every reaction, every weak spot. Like he’s studied the blueprint of you, mastered it, and has no intention of ever letting anyone else have access to it.

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his smirk sharp and sinister. His lips finally crash against yours, stealing what little resolve you had left.

His kiss is hungry, consuming, as if he’s trying to prove a point with every press of his mouth, clash of teeth, and every curl of his fingers. And the worst part is, he’s right—you do want this. You want him.

“Say it,” he demands against your lips. “Say you want me.”

Your hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, body arching into him as his touch overwhelms you. The fight leaves you entirely, your resistance crumbling to dust. “I want you,” you confess, the words spilling from your lips before you can even think to stop them.

He grins against your mouth. “Good, because you’re mine.”

And he’s going to make damn sure you know it. He’s going to make sure everyone knows it—especially that fucking asshole who touched you. You’re his. 

Jisung finds the length of your neck again, his skilled fingers continuing their work on your pussy. He knows you’re close, knows exactly how to draw this out of you until you’re cumming, all while he’s branding your skin with purple bruises across your neck. Call it an ego thing, but knowing some part of him will be etched onto your skin has his cock throbbing, his bulge swelling in his jeans just from the thought of you belonging to him—even if it’s only temporary. Jisung doesn’t care. He’ll keep doing this until it’s permanent, until your mind finally catches up, and you realize you belong to him, just as much as he belongs to you.

“For someone who was so insistent that we can’t do this, you have no problem making a mess on my fingers, noona,” he coos, his whispers brushing against your skin. “I can hear how wet you are, all for me, yeah?”

He’s a cocky fucker, and he knows it.

“Ji—please,” you whine, your body moving in sync with his, desperate to push yourself over the edge. Jisung laughs, the vibration of it shooting through you straight to your core. His fingertips dig into your pelvis, halting your movements because he’s the one in control. He’s the one with something to prove.

“You wanna cum, noona?” he asks, almost mockingly. “Want me to make you cum?”

You nod eagerly, desperation etched across your features. Yes, you want it—no orgasm could ever compare to the one you know he can give you.

Jisung pulls away from your neck, his pupils blown wide as he admires the art painted across your skin—his mark. He’s never been one for art, never understood what people meant by seeing a message in a painting, but as his fingers trace the deep red imprints of his mouth, he understands exactly what this piece of skin says: mine.

His fingers plunge deeper inside your cunt, the steady rhythm driving you wild. He curls them just right, his touch grazing that rough patch inside you that makes you gasp, your breath catching and lips parting. 

He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours as he mouths words of praise and instructions. At least, you think he’s mouthing them—your mind is fogged, overwhelmed by the wave of pleasure crashing over you, the only sound you can focus on is the buzzing of your orgasm, your cries and the way his name spills from your lips in a frantic, desperate whisper.

"Such a good fucking girl," he murmurs when your high starts to fade, voice low with approval. "My good fucking girl."

Maybe it’s the post-climax haze, your mind still swimming in fog, but your arms find their way around Jisung’s neck, pulling him down to crash your lips against his. He’s caught off guard, just as much as you are—you're not one to initiate, and he hadn’t expected more. He’d already made his point clear: he knows your body, he knows how to make you feel good, how to make you cum.

But here you are, nipping at his lip, devouring his mouth with a hunger that catches you both by suprise. And when you whisper a soft, "Fuck me again, please, Jisung," he's done for.

"My girl is so impatient and greedy, huh?" He tsks, but it's more to regain his composure than anything. He’d almost cum in his pants at the sight of you begging him to fuck you, like some horny teenager. But his determination to prove he’s not the boy you grew up with keeps him grounded.

He hoists you up effortlessly, his hands gripping the underside of your ass as your legs instinctively wrap around his body. With ease, he carries you to the bed, dropping you onto it with a predatory gleam in his eyes. As he climbs over you, his gaze darkens with hunger, every movement clear, saying one thing: he's going to devour you.

"Such a dirty girl, letting your brother’s friend fuck you twice in one night," he teases, his hands slowly working to peel the dress from your body. When he sees you’ve been wearing no bra underneath, your nipples fully exposed and standing at attention instantly, a low curse slips from his lips. 

He could admire your body for hours—he hadn’t had the chance to earlier because the stakes felt higher then. But for you, the moment is urgent. You need him—all of him—inside you, now. Maybe that’s why you decide to taunt him.

“I can always get someone else to do it if you don’t want to.”

“Watch it,” he warns, as his grip tightens on you. His eyes darken with possessiveness, a wave of jealousy flickering in his eyes. The thought of someone else touching you like this, even as a joke, triggers something primal inside him.

Without another word, Jisung sheds his own clothes, hands moving to your thighs, spreading them apart with a firm, controlled movement. His breath hitches as he stares down at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect, so fucking his.

“Made to take my cock,” he mutters, giving you a moment to adjust. You nod softly, the sensation of him filling every part of you dulling every lingering ache. 

He circles the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you as payback for that little comment, before slowly sinking into you, inch by inch. Your eyes roll back at the delicious stretch, your body yielding to him as he fits into you so perfectly. So big, so deep, so yours.

It isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you, balls against your skin, that a groan escapes both of you.

He doesn't hold back, his groans raw and needy. He wants you to hear him—hear how good you make him feel, how desperate he's been for you, for this, how much he’s craved you for years. Every sound, every groan, he wants it etched in your memory. He wants you to remember him when you think about any other man—your first boyfriend, or the guy who took you to prom, and especially the flings you had on spring break.

He wants to be the only man who makes you come apart. The only one you grip with those pretty nails, scraping his back as if marking him, your own little claim to match his purple marks. 

Jisung has always had a soft spot for you, but the way he fucks is anything but soft. This is desperate, driven, a reminder that only he can make you feel this way—only he will. His thrusts are hard, dominating, consuming, each one a claim, marking you as his in the most primal way and you love it.

He knows you love it—the way your pussy clenches around him, fluttering rhythmically, milking his own orgasm from him with every squeeze. Sloppy, deep, and abrupt, his resolve twists tighter inside his stomach. His grip on your hips tightens and he drives into you with relentless, unyielding force, chasing his high. 

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “My pretty girl,” he growls. “Only mine.”

You can barely respond, the pleasure building so intensely that all you can do is cling to him, your fingernails digging into his pale skin, feeling every part of him take control. Each thrust pushes you closer to an edge you’ve never felt before, your stomach coiling tightly, a delicious tension threatening to snap.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and filled with heat, his pace never slowing. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breath hitches, body trembling as the tension in your core reaches its peak. “Yours,” you whisper, but it’s enough to make him groan in satisfaction.

Suddenly, the world around you blurs as the pleasure overwhelms you. Your body responds, the waves crashing over you as your eyes roll. A choked cry escapes, and a rush of wetness unlike anything you’ve felt before floods your body. 

Your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, but Jisung doesn’t let you hide. He watches you, eyes dark,  filled with awe and pride, as he takes in the fact that he’s the one who’s just made you squirt.

“How’s that for childish?” he murmurs with a smirk, the words dripping with possessiveness.

And with one final thrust, he drives into you, his body shuddering as he reaches his own release, spilling inside of you.

“Oh, and by the way,” he murmurs breathlessly, lips brushing against your ear, “there’s no way this is just a one-time thing, Y/N.”

[softness-and-shattering]

I was writing tags but I think it deserves main post.

Something I know multiple people to do is get a pet so that you have a life relying on you. You cant do it today because who will feed the cat tomorrow?

And as a bonus, looking after an animal really helps you have compassion and look after yourself. Ive experienced this personally*.

Animals, especially cuddly ones are also super therapeutic. Just holding or touching a warm living creature is really powerful, especially but not exclusively if youre lonely or touch starved. Its comforting. You feel less alone. Theyre affectionate towards you, and that makes you think there must be something about you worth loving because theres a cat climbing on you and purring. It doesnt know about human troubles and self esteem and reputation and work. It knows you are person. You feed it. It sees you every day. It loves you. Youre lovable. Youre worthy of love. This weird creature says so.

This isnt necessarily the right advice for everyone so do think about it; eg dont get a dog if you cant consistently leave the house to walk them. Cats do better indoors, and they need more than just food water and litter change. Brushing, love, play, vet visits etc. I dont know anout keeping fish but that might be easier. You could also try a plant. Its surprising how effecting it is to have a living being with you, even if its just a tiny succulent in a pot that doesnt ever move. Its still alive and thats powerful. If youre keeping it alive thats also an incredible feeling. One time when I was living alone and isolating myself, a friend left me a little succulent at the door when I said I wasnt up for actually interacting. And it made a really significant difference which was so surprising to me, its so small! But its *alive*.

*I once had a psych ask if Id ever had a pet, I said no, he said ok so try imagine. The same way you love a pet unconditionally no matter what it does, try feel that way about yourself. I did not viscerally understand what he meant till I got a cat, who could be a mischievous stinky slippery little shit, and I loved him with all my heart no matter how upset I also was at him. This wasnt something I had experienced before.

Another time Id moved somewhere new and I was talking to my cat about how it must be scary for him, in a new place with new sights and sounds and smells. And then I realised, hey, *Im* in a new place with new sights and sounds AND smells, and its ok if I feel a bit wobbly about it. We can be a bit wobbly and comfort each other together.

Seriously, having a Little Guy follow you around and love you is the best. Pet ownership is one of my best life decisions.

So there is a lot of bad stuff going on right now, and I'm sure there are lots of people feeling hopeless and thinking of suicide. Well, I've been suicidal for 21 years and I have a few practical pieces of advice for surviving that I rarely see in other places but I think have done more to keep me off the ledge than almost anything.

1. Don't feel guilty for wanting to kill yourself. Life can be extremely painful, and you are not weak, a coward, or irrational for considering the obvious way to alleviate that pain. Guilt on top of the rest of your pain will not help, and you are not a bad person. You are going to have to tell yourself this a lot.

2. If you think you might do it, find an excuse to live. This is different from a reason to live in that it is short term and shallow. For years my excuse was that I still had enough money to buy a pizza and I'd be damned if I didn't get my last pizza before I died, and if i still wanted to kill myself after the pizza then I had lost nothing. I swear this kept me alive through some of the hardest years of my life.

3. If you have an online friend you can trust, ask if they would be willing to do check in duty occasionally on your worst nights. It's very simple, on bad days where hurting yourself is a real possibility, ask your friend if they can send you a message at regular intervals, say 15 or 20 minutes, confirming that you are safe. It can be as simple as "check?", with you responding "I'm ok". Being immediately held accountable makes not doing it so much easier. I asked a friend to help me like this about two weeks ago to deal with a really bad self harm day and the difference between trying to do it on your own and simple check ins is astounding. It hurts so much less.

4. You die with nothing left on the table. This is for when it's over and you are going to kill yourself. You have a plan, you are ready, and you want to. At this point you are effectively dead. Which means there are no consequences. You can finally do the thing that you were always too scared to do. Maybe it's quitting your job, or confessing to your crush. For me it was coming out as trans. This is your last ditch effort, so if it blows up in your face and ruins everything it is no loss because your plan will still work tomorrow. You were already dead anyway, who cares if you left behind a bit more chaos.

[yamumsyadadd]

change

Part of the Mariquita universe. Others can be found here:

mariquita , mami and mama, accident, different

Talks of adoption trauma, birth, anxiety. Little over 6k.

There was a weird energy around the apartment, it was hard for you to pinpoint exactly what it was. 

After the suspension from school and then removal and enrolment into the new school, you thought you’d be grounded. No tv, no iPad, no fun. But that wasn’t the case at all. Besides going shopping for a new school uniform, no one said anything about it. 

During Christmas dinner, your Abuela seemed to be stuck to you like glue. Whenever you went, she went. If you wanted a drink, she was up before you finished the sentence. Constantly filling your plate up with food to the point where you felt sick. When you finally got home, you asked your Mami about it. 

“Is abuela dying?” 

“Que? Why would you say that?” 

“She wouldn’t leave me alone. stuck to me like a baby.” At the word baby, both Olga and Alexia tensed. They were keeping a secret, a big secret that would change the way everything was. 

“I think she’s just sad you’re growing up. You used to be so little and cute.” Your Mami pinched your cheeks affectionately. 

“Maybe you should have another baby so she can annoy it.” The air in the room changed again, but you were either blissfully unaware or just didn’t care. 

“Right, it’s late, you should go to sleep. We have a busy few days!” Your Mami all but shoved you down the hallway. Turning back to Olga and waiting until the cost was clear, “this is going to be harder then I thought.” 

“we could just tell her amor. I think she’ll be happy.” 

“A few more days okay? We’ll go away, just the three of us, spend some quality time together and then we can tell her in the new year.” 

The break between Christmas and new year, have your family some much needed rest. La Molina ski resort was only two hours from Barcelona. It was far enough away to feel like a proper holiday but close enough that if needed, your family could return quickly. 

The hotel room was big enough to fit you, your Mami, abuela and tia alba if they were invited. There were two beds in your room, secretly deciding to sleep in both just because you could. 

Neither your Mami or Olga joined you for skiing, which wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, the last time you went to the snow, only Olga joined and she wasn’t very good so since then she has watched. Ice skating however, that’s something you’d do, the three of you, at the Christmas markets in Mollet, sometimes tia alba would join but she was even worse at ice skating then Olga was at skiing. 

You were sent to join the kids club for a few hours while Olga and your Mami relax, alexia insisted, stating it would be good for you to make new friends, as if you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the school year making new friends. 

Skiing was fun, freeing. You suppose it’s how your Mami nd mama feel when they play football or how Olga feels when she’s on a plane to a different city. You like skiing, more than you’ve ever liked football, but it was a winter sport and it’s didn’t usually snow cold to Barcelona so it’s just a holiday sport to you. 

For a few hours you were gone, Mami and Olga were relaxing, brain storming ideas on how to tell you the big news. Well, the two big events that were going to be happening. They decided that after lunch was the best time to do so. 

“Marquita, we need to talk to you about something.” It was Olga who spoke, wiping her hands on the paper towel. 

“Am I in trouble?”

“No Bebé! Not at all. We are moving.”

“What? Where?” 

“Sant Just Desvern. Into a house, one with more bedrooms, a backyard. Closer to your new school and to the Joan.” 

“Oh. Am I, am I coming too?” If alexia wasn’t so wrapped up in all the big changes that were about to happen she would’ve realised the extent of the question. 

“OF course you are Mari! You get first pick on what bedroom you want, and we will go shopping for however you want to decorate it.” 

It went silent after that. There was still  trauma and anxiety about what happened to you before alexia and Jenni adopted you. Sometimes, it would creep up. Usually you did a good job of communicating it, either with your Mami and mama or with Tia Maria or Alba, even abuela. But this felt too big, too scary. 

For the last eight years, that apartment had been your home. It’s where Alexia and Jenni bought you home too, it’s where Nala lived, where mama lived and now, now you were moving into a new house that Nala never lived in and Mama wouldn’t be. 

The next three days flew by, you do more skiing, ice skating, sledding, all alone. You didn’t know the reason behind your Mami not letting Olga join, you knew your Mami wouldn’t go ice skating but she did join the sledding. If either woman had slowed down they would’ve realised that you were pulling away. 

When you arrived back to Barcelona on New Year’s Eve, your Mami told you there would be another present for you to open with your abuela and tia. You were slightly confused, having already gotten everything on your Wishlist. So as you sat there on the couch, your abuela and tia next to you, Olga and your Mami in front with three boxes on your laps, you were still confused as to what it could be. 

You opened it when they said you could, inside the box it contained 3 things. A photo of an ultrasound (which you didn’t understand), a baby jersey with ‘Putellas 11’ on the back and a shirt that said ‘world’s best big sister’. But you completely missed the shirt. Your Mami had put the shirt in the box the wrong way around.

It took a moment for everything to understand and then the chaos unfolded. Abuela and tia alba were crying, hugging both Olga and your Mami while you just sat there. 

“Mariquita? Do you understand?” Your Mami asked as she sat in front of you. 

In your mind, the blob was cancer, the jersey was confusing though. “Olga has cancer? Why are we celebrating that? How will I be a big sister if Olga has-“ it clicked in your brain, the blob wasn’t cancer it was a baby, “oh. Not cancer, a baby.” 

“Yes a baby.” Your Mami chuckled, “we are having a baby and you’ll be a big sister.” 

“Cool.” You gave a thumbs up towards Olga, unsure of what else to do. 

“Cool? That’s it?” 

“What else am I meant to say? Good luck?” 

“Jeez ale, she really is your daughter.” Alba laughed, ruffling your hair. It was no secret alexia was awkward and it seems you truly inherited that trait. 

Both Olga and alexia sat down on the couch next to you, Eli snapping a photo of the three of you. Your mind was full of anxiety. Anxiety about moving house, about the new school and needing to make new friends but mostly about the baby. 

As you lay in bed, the clock on your bedside table illuminating 3.13am, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. The last time a baby was on the way was when you were in your last foster home, they were meant to adopt you, citing that they couldn’t have kids. Then they fell pregnant, cancelling the adoption and sending you back. You were only four then but it filled you with doubt. Would your Mami and Olga send you away too? Would you go to mamas or back into a foster home? 

Those thoughts consumed you for months. When you finally moved into the new house, you picked the room the furthest from your Mami and Olga’s room. You turned extra quiet. In your mind, if you were quiet then they would forget you were there. They wouldn’t send you away because they wouldn’t remember you were there. 

It back fired though, of course it did. Mama was coming to Madrid for Easter, your Mami agreed that you would go to Madrid and spend a few days with her then come back home and do Easter with the Putellas-Rios family. 

For four days you forgot about the impending doom that was waiting for you at home. For four days your mama and her family treated you like a princess, spoiling you and reminding you of how loved you were. 

On the flight home you turned quiet again, your mama noticed, pulling you up on it straight away. 

“Princess, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing mama.” 

“You can tell me. You don’t have to lie bebé.” 

“Imscaredillbesentaway.” You said it so fast, your heart beating out of your chest, making you want to throw up. 

“Can you say that again for me? More slow this time.” 

You took a deep breath, refusing to look at your mama, “I’m scared I’ll be sent away when the baby comes. Mami and Olga won’t want me anymore.” 

“It won’t happen. You’re here to stay, forever. Why would you think that?” 

“It happened before. Before you and Mami. So it’ll happen again.” 

“No! No it won’t. You’re not going anywhere, you’re our daughter. Mine, mamis, and Olga’s. You’re our first baby, no one in this world would be able to take you.” Jenni spoke with so much conviction that apart of you believed her. 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise. On everything. On my career, on your mamis. I promise.” Jenni’s heart broke at your lack of believing. She knew you took change hard but had hoped that as you grew up, you were more welcome to it. She guesses you just hide it easier. 

When you both arrived at the Barcelona airport and made it through security, Alexia and Olga were both waiting. Big smiles on their faces as their excitement to have you back was evident. You on the other hand, tensed the minute you saw them. Jenni knew she only had a limited amount of time to talk to alexia before her flight back to Madrid. 

“Ale, I need to talk to you.” She pulled alexia’s arm, trying to get her away from Olga and you. Olga noticed and nudged you away from them. 

“Everything alright?” 

“No. I know you’re excited to be having a baby with Olga but I’m worried you’re forgetting about y/n.” 

“What are you talking about? How could I forget her?” 

“She’s scared you’ll send her away when the baby comes Ale. She said it. Look at her, really look at her.” They both turned to look at you. You were hitting your hand against your leg, something you did when you were anxious. Your eyes stayed trained on the ground, refusing to look at Olga when she spoke. “That’s not the same kid I just spent 4 days with.” 

It seemed that both Olga and Alexia realised at the same time. Olga looked up with wide eyes, slightly panicked at the fact you weren’t engaging with her as usual, alexia on the other hand looked at you with her eyes full of tears. 

Arriving home didn’t bring you comfort, going to your room at the end of the house didn’t bring the calmness you thought it would. Instead it left you feeling empty and sad. 

The next few days were hard. Your Mami and Olga tried to talk to you, even going as far to get Mapi involved with Pina, Patri and Cata but nothing worked. You were stuck in a rut of anxiety and scaredness. 

Olga finally got you to crack, your Mami regretfully had to go away again for a game. Meaning she’d leave you while you were clearly going through something and she’d miss an ultrasound with Olga. 

The morning of the ultrasound, Olga all but dragged you out of the house. She too was feeling a mix of emotions. Despite both alexia and Jenni saying she was just as much as a parental figure to you as they were, she couldn’t help but feel on the outside. She hoped this baby would form as a bridge to you. Something you had more in common, but instead it was causing a wedge between all of you. 

You both cried at the ultrasound, seemingly for different reasons but at the time, Olga was optimistic that it was for the same reason. Seeing the baby. 

When you returned home you disappeared to your room very quickly, only to return with a duffle bag and backpack. 

“Can you take me to Eli’s please?” 

“What?” Olga was confused, Alexia never said anything about you staying there while she was gone. 

“You have your kid. You don’t want me here, Mami doesn’t want me here, so can you please take me? If you can’t it’s fine. I know how to get there.” 

“Y/n no. I’m not taking you to Eli’s-“ it came out a lot harsher than she anticipated. She realised as soon as the words left her mouth, “I’m sorry. What I meant is, this is your home. Now and forever. It doesn’t matter if I’m having a baby, no one can ever replace you. You’re our mariquita. You belong here, in this family.” 

“People have said that before and then they change their minds. This is what’s best. I leave and you and Mami can have the baby in peace. It’s okay Olga. I’ll catch the bus.” You were gone before she could argue. 

You heard the apartment door close behind you, Olga’s footsteps approaching as fast as she could, “mariquita please wait!” The fire staircase locked behind you as you ran down the stairs towards the exit. You knew it locked, you knew Olga would be stuck waiting for a lift, so it gave you time to figure how to get the bus. 

Olga raced back to the apartment only to realise her keys were inside. The door was locked and she was on the wrong side of the door. As if this whole thing couldn’t get any worse. 

In panic she rang alexia, which was the worst idea she could’ve had and as soon as alexia started to panic, she hung up. You said you were going to Eli’s, so she rang Eli who then rang alba who then rang the rest of her family. Soon enough the entire Putellas family was out hunting for you. 

You had a phone, she could’ve rang you, but in her panic she forgot about that. Alexia didn’t though, she rang you. Multiple times. Each time you watched it ring out, too afraid of her confirming the fact that she was going to ‘return you’. 

After what felt like hours, you finally arrived to Mollet. The sun was setting so you knew you had to go fast. Eli was there when you arrived, running out the front door when she saw you come up the driveway. 

“Mariquita! Dios mío you scared me. You scared us all! What were you thinking!” 

“Mami and Olga don’t want me anymore. You know how to book flights so I wanted to come here. Olga said she wouldn’t take me so I took the bus.” 

“They don’t want to get rid of you! What are you talking about?” Eli was in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that you truly felt that way, or that her daughter would give you that idea. 

“It’s happened before! Why aren’t people understanding! Mami and Olga are finally having a baby, making their own family. Their OWN. I’m not apart of that. This family is no longer mine, and that’s okay. If you won’t help me get to mama, I’ll figure it out myself.” 

“No. You will come inside and we will wait for your Mami and Olga. You will eat dinner and have a shower but you’re not leaving and I am not booking you a flight.” 

You ate in silence, much to Eli’s dismay. She tried and tried to get more answers out of you, giving up when she realised you wouldn’t talk anymore. Seeing you this way, being selectively mute, reminded her of the first time she met you. 

You were a tiny four year old. Both alexia and alba were at least double your weight when they were your age. It shocked Eli, alexia had warned her but no amount of warning could stop the feelings that she felt when she saw you. 

Both Eli and Alba had been waiting patiently to meet you. They were told from the beginning that you were different, suffered from trauma that neither Alexia nor Jenni fully understood. To Eli, you were perfect. 

The social worker warned Alexia and Jenni about the trauma you had endured and that they weren’t sure about how much you remembered or what you saw. When things got overwhelming you went mute. It was a coping mechanism and over the years, with lots of therapy and love, that habit disappeared. 

As you stood behind Alexia’s legs, peaking through every so often, you looked tiny. There were healing bruises on your arms. Not in the way kids normally get bruises. 

It took a long time for you to say anything more than “hola” to her. She remembers the day like it was yesterday. You had scored a goal against Mapi and you were so excited. Smashing through the front door, without evening taking your shoes off. 

Eli cried that night. She cried about how happy you looked, how happy you were and how you actually spoke. 

It was now the opposite, you weren’t that shy little four year anymore. But old habits die hard. Sometimes it’s easier to go mute than to focus on what was truly happening. 

Olga was waiting in the spare room when you got out of the shower. Or the room that used to be alexia’s room. Littered with photos of her and her friends as they grew up, a few of her and your mama, alba too. It was a time capsule, for you it felt overbearing. You didn’t have friends like she did, you’d have a sibling in four months but it wouldn’t be the same as her and alba. 

“Mariquita. We need to have a proper conversation. I want you to tell me everything. If you truly can’t, I will wait for your Mami, but you need to talk. No more pretending everything is fine.” 

“Okay.” You say on the floor, your knees pressed against your chest, your back hard against the wall. “What do you want me to say first?” 

“How did you feel when we told you we were having a baby?” 

“Scared. Excited. Anxious. Jealous.” 

“Can you elaborate please?” 

“Before Mami and mama, I was with this other couple. They couldn’t have kids for whatever reason and they were going to adopt me. A few weeks before they found out they were having a baby and cancelled the adoption. Literally just palmed me off. Then the kids at the group home would say how no one wanted me and whatever. I didn’t think I believed it but I guess I did. 

You and Mami would have this experience, you being pregnant I mean, Mami and mama didn’t have that with me, so I feel like this baby is better than me in that sense. Mama is so far away and I was scared that if you decided to get rid of me that she wouldn’t get here in time and I’d just be on the street.

I picked the room furthest from the others because I thought, I thought if I did that you would forget I was there. It would be sad to be forgotten but I would have somewhere safe to stay. 

Then you said you wouldn’t bring me here and I panicked. I thought someone was going to come and take me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Sobs racked your body, and for the first time Olga saw you as the little girl Alexia described. Broken, scared and tiny. Right then in her mind, you weren’t the twelve year old she’d grown to love, you were a tiny four year old. Scared of what was to come. 

“No Mariquita. No sorry. You were scared, that’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared, anxious and whatever else you want to feel. You’re allowed to feel it all but you’re safe here, with you Mami, mama and with me. Yes, this will be the first baby I give birth too, but it’s not my first kid.” You looked up at her, not realising she had moved in front of you, “you’re my first kid Mariquita. You’re as much my daughter as you are to your Mami and mama. I know it is a big change, you’re scared and truthfully I am scared. Terrified actually. But I know you’re going to be the best big sister ever and this baby is lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.” 

You let yourself fall into Olga’s arms. You were both crying, hanging onto each other for dear life. When alexia arrived to her mamis house, all guns blazing, she was met with a stern Eli. Giving her daughter an ear full about the way she spoke to Olga. Olga however didn’t hold a grudge. She knew Alexia was panicking, she was also panicking. 

“Ale, she needs therapy, she needs help. Don’t be mad at her, you can be mad at me but not her.”

“I’m not mad. I’m sorry, I was just so scared. I didn’t want to leave as it was and then I did and this happens? What do we do olgi?” 

“We start by moving her room, closer to ours.” Alexia gave her girlfriend a confused look, “she took that room in case we didn’t want her anymore. She’d be far away so she’d stay out of the way and have somewhere to stay.” 

Alexia let the tears fall, wrapping an arm around Olga as they wanted you sleep. “How did things get so fucked up?” 

“We will fix it. All of it.” Instead of waking you and leaving for their own house, both alexia and Olga climbed into bed with you. The game was the last thing on Alexia’s mind. All she wanted was for her family to be happy, for you to be happy. 

Fix it they did. It started with moving your room, something you were still on edge about, even with all the reassurance. Then it was the therapy, twice a week. Once with the school counsellor and once with the clubs psychologist. 

Neither Alexia nor Olga spoke about the baby around you, both families were also on strict instructions not too. Both therapists agreed that it would be better for now, if you wanted to know, you would ask. It wasn’t that you hated this unborn baby, it was that you were still scared about being ‘returned’. 

Olga had an ultrasound coming up, it was to find out the gender and your Mami wanted you there. They had put off finding out the gender for the last two months because they wanted you there to enjoy it. She wanted this to be a family event, something that would bring you all join but she also knew not to push you. 

“Mari, bebé, can you come here for a sec?” 

“Mami I promise I’ll clean my room!”

“It’s not about that.” Your Mami laughed. “I want to ask you a question. If you don’t feel comfortable and want to stay here or with Alba that’s fine. There’s no pressure at all. Okay?”  

“Okay?”

“Today Olga has an ultrasound to find out the gender. I want to invite you, again there’s no pre-“

“Yeah I’ll come.” To you, it was no longer a big deal. You were mostly excited for the baby, still a little nervous about the change. Your Mami was sat gobsmacked on the couch as you walked away, finally going to clean your room. 

Olga got in the car, completely unaware of your presence until you asked a simple question, to which she let out a bloody curling scream, clutching her chest. All you and your Mami could do was laugh. She didn’t ask any questions about what you were doing, only giving Alexia a look that said ‘we will talk later.’ 

‘A boy.’ The technician announced. 

A flurry of movement happened in that moment. Your Mami had pulled you towards her and Olga, a group hug forming. There were tears, happy tears. And when your Mami looked at you sadly you made sure to emphasise that were happy. 

There was a question bobbing around in your head though. How did Olga get pregnant. Obviously you were given a simple sex talk in school and by both your mothers, but it never occurred to you that two women would have sex differently. That was something you would need to google when you got home, not wanting to deal with the awkwardness of asking your Mami or Olga. 

“Ice cream time?” Your Mami smiled as she pulled you into her side. 

“I definitely want ice cream.” Olga piped up. 

You interlinked your hands with Olga’s, swinging them, laughing and smiling as you went along for the journey to the ice cream parlour. 

As all three of you sat there laughing and eating your ice cream, all alexia could think about is how lucky she was. There would be more bumps in the road, but right now everyone was happy. You were laughing and smiling with Olga, it was definitely a sight for sore eyes. 

The following two months were basically spent fussing over Olga and her ever growing baby bump. She referred to you and your Mami as ‘the twins’. Forever asking if she needed something or offered to get it for her, even going so far as to guide her to the bathroom when Alexia was away for a game. 

You were certainly the mediator between them somedays. Alexia going on about how the baby doesn’t need more clothes, or shoes, or toys but you would side with Olga. Or when Alexia wanted Olga to stay in bed to relax, you were at her side encouraging her to do so. 

The biggest surprise came when you asked what the birth plan was. 

“I don’t know. Push it out and hope I don’t poop?” 

Alexia was bewildered, “why do you ask? How do you know what a birth plan is?” 

“I googled it.” You shrugged, “I’ve also watched birthing videos on YouTube. You’ll probably shit yourself.” 

“Not helpful!” 

“Is that something you want to be involved in?” Your Mami asked as she rang her fingers through your hair, making a mental note to book you in for a haircut soon. 

“If that’s what Olga wants.” 

“I do. But you don’t have to. It’ll probably be gross.” 

“Oh it’ll definitely be gross.” Both adults laughed as you scrunched your nose. 

“Can I leave if it gets too much?” 

“Of course Mari! Eli and my mami will be in the waiting room.” 

“Along with half the team no doubt.” 

It was settled, you would be there to watch your little brother come into this world. The option to leave was there if you wanted to take it. There was truly only one question still in your mind: how did Olga get pregnant?

As the final month began, everyone around was on edge, expect for you. You have read everything, watch hours and hours of YouTube videos. You were ready. Emotionally, you were better. Talking candidly with your mami and mama whenever they asked, Olga too. 

If you needed to deliver the baby in the lounge room, you could do that. If you needed to drive her to the hospital, illegally, you could do that. Thanks to bullying Mapi into teaching you how to drive when she was supposed to be watching you for a date night. 

You and Olga had secretly bought and packed a second hospital bag, knowing the minute Olga’s water broke, your mami would be insane. And she was. 

A week after the baby’s due date, Olga’s water broke. She was sitting outside on the chairs enjoying the sun when it happened. Her contractions weren’t as frequent as the hospital required, once every 15 or so minutes. But as soon as she told Alexia, she went crazy. 

Both of you found it amusing, watching her run around the house trying to find things she would need, offering Olga the hair straightener, hair drier, a scrubbing brush? She wouldn’t relax until you called your abuela. When Eli arrived, Olga’s contractions were 12 minutes apart, Alexia looked like she was going to throw up, pass out and cry all at once. 

Even though she was running around like a headless chook, every time a contraction hit she was right there by Olga’s side. Helping her breathe through it. For someone so calm and collected when it came to football, she was truly the opposite right now. Your abuela couldn’t help but laugh when she saw what her daughter was doing. 

Between every contraction Alexia was off cleaning something, as if they had not organised for the cleaner to come while Olga was in labour. 

“Mami? What are you doing?” Curiosity got the best of you, finding your mami in the wardrobe going through her sock drawer. 

“Mari! Good you’re here, help me go through these please. I think some of these socks are yours.” 

“No mami.” You laughed at her truly panicked state, you couldn’t wait to tell Mapi about it, “Olga’s in labour and you’re in here organising your socks? Do you think that’s a good use of your time?” 

“¡Dios mío! You’re right! I need to clean your bathroom!”

“Mami no! You need to be with Olga. You’re being slightly insane right now.” 

“I’m panicking okay? I don’t know what to do!” 

“You should probably breathe and put the hospital bag in the car. It’s in the hallway closet.” 

“No, it’s next to my side of the bed. I made sure it was close.”

“Oh nah we aren’t taking that one. Olga bought another because she knew you would panic. Vamos! We are having a baby.” You smiled and skipped out of the room. 

After a very long 16 hours, it was finally time for Olga to push. Everyone was exhausted. Labour looked rough, the videos you had watched didn’t make it same as bad but it was bad. 

As Olga’s legs opened and while she was mid push, you decided to look. Why? You had no idea. 

“I’ve never seen a vagina before and that’s disgusting.” You looked like you were going to pass out. A clip to the back of your head and a stern look from your mami had you mumbling a sorry to a laughing Olga. 

It didn’t take much longer for your baby brother to be born. You were crying, Olga was crying your mami too but most importantly, your baby brother was crying. 

Truthfully, a few hours ago you were getting anxious about how the aftermath would be, but when Olga reached out for your hand, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, you knew everything would be okay. 

Your mami sent you home with Eli to shower and get some sleep. There were so many questions in your head, ones you wanted to google and ones you just wanted to ask. After a good feed and sleep, you were back to the hospital the next morning. 

Your mami was pacing the room when you got there, looking anxious and sweaty. 

“Hi? Can I come in?” You asked shyly. 

“Mari! Oh bebé, of course you can. Come here, hug me.” She squeezed you so tight and you were hitting her back to get her to stop. 

“Mami. Mami! Can’t breathe!” You spattered out. 

“Oops sorry!” She slightly pushed you away. Olga was nursing your baby brother. He looked so small, smaller than you imagine. 

“Do you want to hold him?” Olga asked, noticing you were staring. 

“Can I?” 

Your mami walked you through it, one hand supporting his head, the other his body. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Rio Jaume Putellas.” She fiddled with the beanie on his head, “rio for Olga’s last name, Jaume for my papi, Putellas for you.” Alexia wanted to cry, the way you looked at the baby was the same way she looked at Alba. Sure, there was a twelve year age gap between you and baby Rio, but that look told her everything she needed to know. You would protect him with your life, love him with your entire heart, and annoy him like any big sister would. 

Friends and family slowly trickled into the room throughout the day, when Ingrid and Mapi arrived they were so overcome with emotion that Mapi was crying. A big ugly cry. For you, it was funny. 

“I have a question.” All four adults turned to you, “I know how babies are made with a man and a woman but with two woman do you use that strap thing that has a button to make the stuff come out? I don’t really understand.” 

Everyone’s faces dropped, if baby Rio wasn’t in the bassinet, you were sure he would be on the floor. 

“What the fuck.” Mapi was the first person to say anything. 

“Y/n how do you know what that is?” Your mami used your first name, something she didn’t do very often. 

“I googled it? I wanted to be prepared for all of this.” 

“Your iPad is being taken away from you.” Was all Olga said. Poor Ingrid was still in disbelief. 

“No ipad, no phone, no tv. Anything that has the internet is gone. Absolutely not.” 

When alba walked into the tense room and saw you mami pacing, once again, she was confused. “Ah what happened?” 

“I asked if they used the strap thing that has stuff come out of it to make baby rio. Now they are broken.” You shrugged, waving your hand around at them. 

“A strap thing with stuff coming out of it?” Alba repeated back, not understanding what you were saying. “Oh. OH!” It clicked. Then she laughed, tears coming out of her eyes, stomach hurting, kind of laugh. 

“This isn’t funny Alba!” Alexia gritted. 

“Lesbian sex talk time! Are we making a PowerPoint?” A pillow was through at her, this time from Olga. 

Thankfully both your abuela and Olga’s mum arrived so the subject was changed very quickly. For you- no answers were supplied and your mami seemingly forgot about the no internet rule very quickly. 

Once everyone was home, it was weird. You weren’t 100% sure what to do, every time the baby cried you just stared at him. Unsure if you were allowed to help. One morning when it was just you and Olga in the kitchen you asked. 

“I want to help but I don’t know what to do.” 

“You’re helping Mari.” You gave her a confused look, “you make coffee for us in the morning, you changed our bed sheets the other night, every morning I come out here it’s clean. Because you do that. You’re helping in ways that are unimaginable but I want you to remember that you’re twelve. You don’t have to do all this. My mami, Eli, your mami, they can all do it.” 

She pulled you into her side, kissing your cheek. Olga was grateful for you, your mami was grateful for you, and you were grateful for them. For being patient, not getting rid of you, for loving you. 

When you rocked baby Rio to sleep, you reminded him that he was loved, safe and wanted. Something you didn’t want him to forget. 

Alexia would often cry when she saw you holding him with a big smile on her face. Or when she saw you doing tummy time with him because he was ‘lonely on the ground by himself’. 

Your family was full. Hearts were full. Love was never far away. 

[bookofbonnie]

NEIGHBOURS: 2 - VI ARCANE.

Characters: Vi x Reader.

Summary: AU. You've settled into your new apartment and life with your new neighbour, Vi. It's domestic bliss until you notice that something is clearly going on with Vi.

Word Count: 2k+.

A/N: This is formatted and written really weirdly so, I'm sorry if it's hard to read. Anyways, I enjoyed writing the first one so, I decided to do a second part. Honestly, in my head, this is taking place in the 2000’s.

PART ONE.

Excluding the difficulties that came with the first day and a half in your new apartment, transitioning into life in your new home had come with a surprisingly, comfortable ease after that.

A huge part of that was thanks to Vi. 

During your first week of moving in, Vi found herself and her tools at your place more than her own as you settled in and discovered new faults and problems that she was more than happy to fix.

In return, you fed her and after that, the two of you found yourself falling into something of a domestic routine. 

Including (but not limited to) -

Collecting each other’s mail from the mailroom:

(Angel Face: Attachment: 1 Image. 1 new message. Did you know that despite marketing their packaging as discreet, sex shops still print their website in tiny print on the label? 

Bob the Builder: fckn kill me.

Angel Face: You have to show me what you got when you get home. Please and thank you!)

Carpooling where you could:

(Your keys jingle in the lock and you twist the door handle for good measure, making sure it’s locked when a low whistle comes from the end of the hallway. 

Vi emerges from behind her own door, gym bag in hand. 

“Cute leggings,” Vi comments with a grin, closing and locking her door behind her. 

The compliment has your cheeks heating up but, you cover it with something silly.

“Thank you,” you beam and begin hitting a few poorly executed bodybuilding poses for her. “I’m glad you noticed. They’re new.”

Vi watches, amused, as you continue to muck around with the poses when her mouth suddenly goes dry when you pull your too-big-T up and over your ass and hit another pose. 

She swallows thickly, eyes wide and focused on the curve of your plump backside

When you spin around, she quickly averts her gaze with a cough as you toss her your car keys.  

“They’re nice,” Vi catches the keys, ducking her head to hide her coloured cheeks before mumbling. “You should definitely buy more.”

“Hm?”

“Uh- nothing-” Vi fiddles with the strap of her gym bag. “Ready to go?”) 

Grocery runs together + shopping in each other’s pantries: 

(“This is a lot of eggs,” Vi comments, eyeing the crate of twenty-four. 

You breathe a half-laugh, “do you need eggs, Vi?” 

There’s a long pause and it prompts you to turn around from your position on the couch to where a contemplative Violet stands in front of your open fridge. 

“... Maybe.” 

You laugh, proper, this time and it sends a kaleidoscope of butterflies through Vi; she's committed the sound to memory but still she wishes she could bottle the sound and wear it around her neck. 

Vi steals a glance at you and you smile fondly at her with your head propped on the back of your couch, “take as many as you need.”)

Movie and weekly TV nights:

(“Finally! Hurry, hurry,” you usher Vi inside your apartment. 

“Live rewind only goes back 30 minutes and the show started 28 ago.” 

“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I was that late,” Vi apologises, quickly kicking her shoes off and dropping her keys in the bowl. 

The two of you settle into your usual positions on your couch, you in the corner of your L-shaped couch and Vi at the other end with her feet propped up on the ottoman. 

You cast one last look between the TV and Vi, ready to hit play but you don’t because the way she sits slumped in her seat, feet on the floor, shoulders sagging and eyes glazed over doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“Hey,” you call softly. “You okay?”

 “Hm?” Vi blinks, taking a second to register your voice. 

“Yeah, yeah, let's watch,” she waves off your concern with a hand in the air. 

“Vi… you know we don’t always have to do these movie nights? Right? If you don’t want to… you can just tell me. I won’t be offended,” you offer her what you hoped was a comforting smile. “and I mean if something’s happened, you can talk to me… if you want .” 

Vi feels her throat clog because there’s genuine concern in your eyes and how is she meant to tell you that she just got into a huge fight because she wanted, chose, to be here with you tonight. 

She can't so she says-

“Just got into a disagreement with a-uh friend. It’s nothing, promise. Now hit play otherwise it’ll be you who makes us miss the first few minutes,” she finishes with a teasing grin and hoping you didn’t notice the way she stumbled over the word friend.

You did. But, you don’t say anything and, soon you forget about it all together because Tyler Lockwood just triggered his werewolf curse!!)

Taking turns to cook and having dinner together most nights - turns out neither of you knew how to cook for one person so, it was easier to just cook for both.

It’s how the two of you end up in Vi’s kitchen on a Wednesday night. 

Topic of conversation: family, parents, childhood and everything in between. 

You were both still learning about each other.

You learned Vi’s parents had passed away in the Zaun Revolution.

She and her sister, Powder, were adopted by her dad, Vander, who was an old friend of her parents.

They also had two brothers- Mylo & Claggor.

Vander raised them all with the help of another old friend of her parents, Silco. 

You recognised both of their names.

“Wait- how do you know who they are?” Vi looks at you with curious eyes. 

“Because, I’m from here? And I think I would know my cities leaders,” you say, laughing, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wait- so you are from here?”

“Yes… have we not had this conversation before?”

"Nope," and Vi is pleased to learn that she was right about you, after all.

You were from Zaun, you just didn’t grow up in Zaun which is why she had never met you before.

Your parents were Zaunite scientists who initially worked for Former Councillor Heimerdinger at The University of Piltover but, following his retirement, they now worked for Councillor Talis and his partner, Viktor, so you had spent the majority of your life in Piltover.

Vi’s mood shifts at the mention of Jayce Talis.

“For Jayce Talis, huh?” Vi questions, casting a sideways glance at you. “He’s uh- he’s pretty close to the Kiramman’s… your family, are they um- like, close to any of them?” 

Vi doesn’t know why she asks that. (She does).

But there was no taking it back now.

She shakes her head at herself and peeks at you from the corner of her eye, hoping you don’t notice the odd question or the way her hand slows on dicing the last of the vegetables.

You don’t.

Not missing a beat, you fire up her stove, place a pan on top of it and answer her question.

“With Jayce? I mean, yeah? Sort of? My parents work for him so they’ve spent a lot of their time over the years with him in the lab but, they’re way closer to Viktor. Grew up down the road from each other and all that so, he’s practically family and well… Jayce is his family. They’re kind of a package deal, so Jayce is around a lot much to the initial annoyance of my parents but they’ve learned to indulge him.”

Finishing up with the vegetables, Vi turns to face you, leaning against the counter with her arms folded across her chest. 

Your eyes can’t help but stray for a brief moment to look at the swell of muscles in her arms that flex from the movement.

“Learned to indulge him?” 

“Yeah… I mean- he means well and he’s really nice but he’s still… unlearning some of his prejudicial misconceptions about Zaun and her people but... he's getting there,” you breathe a short, wry laugh. “Slowly but surely.” 

Your words hit a little too close to home for Vi and she clears her throat uncomfortably, pushing off the counter to start cleaning the bench so she can distract herself while you stand over the stove and cook. 

“And as for the Kiramann’s, I mean I went to school with Councillor Cassandra’s daughter, Caitlyn but-”

Vi drops the dish in her hand and it lands in the sink with a loud clang!

The sound makes you jump and you ask her if everything’s okay-

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Vi wipes a sweaty hand across the back of her trackies with a nervous chuckle. “Just a slip of the hand- sorry, why are we talking about Caitlyn Kiramann?” 

Vi tries not to sound defensive, tries her best to sound casual but it comes out as anything but, her voice short and clipped.

You pause for a moment - was she... annoyed with you? - then breathe a sigh of disbelief, confused by the sudden whiplash- 

“Vi… you asked me about the Kiramann’s,” you remind her. “I was just answering your question.”

“I did?” 

“Yeah, you did-” you retort, feeling a little exasperated and desperate for answers because there had been a steady build up of- this.

Whatever the hell this was. 

After that night when she showed up late to your place, you noticed that something was off.

She seemed to be eating less, drinking more on the weekends and sleeping even less. 

Then there were the bruises and scuffs that were making more frequent appearances across her face and all over her body.

You were pretty certain those weren’t coming from the sparring matches she participated in, in the gym as she so claimed.

Despite all of that however, the routine the two of you had fallen into hadn’t changed- Vi was still showing up for you.

But... even you could see that it was becoming  exhaustive for her, light snores more frequently leaving her lips from where she’d laid her head on your lap only minutes into whatever tv show or movie the two of you had started but, every time you offered to cancel, she’d flat out refuse.

“Me? Cancel?” she’d scoff.  “And miss my favourite part of the day? Yeah, right, angel face. Not getting rid of me that easily” 

You had made it a point not to comment because you weren’t sure how’d she react if you began to more forcefully pry into her life considering she had already shut down your several attempts to check in with her before.

But, this time you don’t give her a pass.

 “Vi, are you sure everything’s okay? I just feel like you’ve been really off lately and you keep saying you’re fine but, you’re clearly not. You can talk to m-” 

 “I said I’m fine!” Vi snaps and you freeze.

The tension is palpable and hangs suffocatingly between the two of you.

Neither of you move.

Neither of you say anything.

Save for the water dripping from the kitchen faucet and the food sizzling on the stove, there is nothing but silence.

Vi stares at you wide-eyed and caught off guard by her own outburst and you blink back at her in surprise. 

You’re the first one to make a move- releasing a slow, controlled breath.

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” you utter, removing the kitchen towel from your shoulder.

Your words breathe life back into Vi and colours her face with a molotov cocktail of emotions before she settles on a regretful grimace. 

 “Shit- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I think you’ve had a long week, Violet,” you interrupt her apology and turn the stove off. “In fact, I think you’ve had a long couple of weeks and if you’re not going to let me in on your problems then maybe you should just leave me out of it.” 

With that, you leave without sparing her a backward glance. 

-

Everything would make sense the following Monday however, after a weekend spent at your parents in Piltover.

You would learn exactly what the problem had been or, who the problem had been, you should say.

You and Vi had never really discussed each other’s love lives but you figured she was clearly fucking someone/s (the sex shop order was a strap harness) and it led you to make assumptions about her. 

Assumptions that were inclusive of:

1. Vi didn’t have one (a love life) - not in a monogamous type way at least - because she never mentioned a girlfriend (why would she omit that, right?) and never brought anyone over.

2. Vi was a player, a serial sleep-arounder, ladykiller, skirt chaser, philanderer- whatever the hell people called it nowadays.

The point was, you found it hard to believe that someone as hot and kind and charming and smart and funny as Vi wasn’t getting laid and frequently - if she wasn't in a relationship then she had to be pulling an insane amount of pussy.  

But, as it turned out, both your assumptions about Vi had been very wrong. 

No, she had a third, more terrible thing going on…

An on-again, off-again girlfriend.

-

“Why are we talking about Caitlyn Kiramann, huh?” you cock your head at Vi with a raised brow from the bottom of the steps.

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonnie 2025. All rights reserved.

[potchi-fics]

note: g!p cait stil drunk yall i dont fuking care alcohol and my laptop AND freewill??????/ im writing everythin. happiest birthday to my fucking wife, better late than never. and for the record, she's the only enforcer i'd open my legs to, face down ass up. I WILL BED HER UNTIL HER SIGHT COMES BACK

      today is a very special day. it’s your wife’s, piltover’s finest, birthday. and what to do other than give caitlyn her birthday present first thing in the morning?

here you are, under the blanket, pulling down cait’s boxers. you take her cock in your hands, she’s  big, and she has a pretty one, pink tip and tall, shaven too. you kiss the head, softly pumping it, being careful to not wake her up so soon.

“aren’t you a big one?” a quiet chuckle slips from you. “shit, always so hard in the morning, ain’t that right?”

      you continue with your actions; giving the side of her dick kisses, licks, suckling the head slightly, and she’s slowly becoming restless. your mouth takes all of her with a slow pace, easing it all the way in, relaxing your throat, and resisting your gag reflex.

soft moans and mumbles of your name from above the blanket reach your ears. you stay still for a second, swallowing around her hardened cock in your mouth, hollowing your cheek as you pull up for air. you jerk her off unhurriedly, soaking in her whimpers.

caitlyn is throbbing in your hand. you take her back in your mouth, making sure to flatten out your tongue to glide against the underside of her cock, gagging when the head hits the back of your throat—she, unconsciously, thrusts up; you close your eyes to let her.

you feel the blanket move, and the humid air finally gets released.

“darling?” she calls out for you, still in a sleepy state. “good morning to me.”

      you look up, her cock still in your warm mouth. you pull back until the tip’s only in, and pump the rest.

she hisses, euphoria spreading throughout her body, making her toes curl, and her hands grip the sheets. caitlyn eyes roll back as you begin to bob your head up and down, the feeling of your mouth, tongue, and hand working her pulsating dick overwhelming her. 

she snaps her gaze back at you, her hand darting down to grab your head, forcing you to look at her, “just the tip, darling.” you obey her. “suck it for me, please?” you groan, her words sending heat between your legs. “yeah, just like that–shit, doing such a good job for me.” 

      her eyes are glinting dangerously, hues so dark that they don’t even look like blue anymore. you deepthroat her suddenly, resulting in another thrust up your mouth.

you take her out of your mouth, hand still pumping it furiously, earning you mewls and ragged sighs, “cum down my throat, commander.”

“god, fuck, fuck. fucking succubus—you are a goddamn succubus.” she grits out, her teeth grinding together. she grabs your head, her abdomen flexing as she starts to fuck your sore throat.

[insidiouscha0s]

matching cars is how my dad made a few friends when i was a kid - there were 2 Sunshine Yellow Jeep Cherokees in our area, and we were constantly parking at the same Walmart - one of the other guys friends left a note on my dads jeep, my dad passed it on next time he saw the other car, and the other guy had a brother and another friend with jeeps so they all started hanging out 🤣 with three guys in the same shade of yellow too, the other in red.

That crew was really awesome to us, actually - we had to move in kind of a hurry when I was about 12/13 (our landlord wanted to move back into the house we were living in so he decided we had to move within three months my parents basically acquired a new place in what felt like two weeks and in the course of a weekend we packed up our rooms and moved to the new place) and those guys all came over with their trucks and helped us pack a whole house up in the course of about a day? maybe two? they got paid in pizza and it was really great to have the feeling that we weren’t alone in that moment.

My dad still talks to them actually, one of the guys still lives somewhat close and invites the whole family to his kids birthdays - they’re still really little so it’s still mostly a chance to hang out and chill in their backyard.

Actually, I invited that guy and his wife & kids to my wedding this past year and they came, so that tells you how close we all still are! I love having family friends that are that “older cousin” age rather than “dad” age!

Also, for those curious - yes, there is a huge age gap in this friendship. When they met, it was around 2001/2002 and my dad was 34. These guys were 17-19, still in high school. “Hanging out” in the evenings was mostly getting a soda and snacks and hanging out at the convenience store until they closed, or working on their cars, or going off roading together. My dad knew their parents, kept in touch when one of the guys went to college and one joined the military, and one is currently off somewhere just living van life iirc. It’s great.

I was leaving class today and I walked up to my little red car and hit the unlock button on my key. I confidently stepped up to open the door but it would open. Slowly I registered that my car didn’t light up or unlock. I was tired and befuddled and thought, oh, I didn’t hit the button right. So I clicked the unlock button again. No unlock sound, no lights.

The rain is dumping down on me, uncharacteristically hard for my region, and my last two brain cells are trying to problem solve the fact that my door won’t open while I’m getting rained on. I looked at my key for several seconds and then thought oh yea, I can actually insert this into the lock! And I look back up and think, wait, it’s really dark in my car?

Turns out.

An IDENTICAL car was parked directly next to mine. This car, however, had tinted windows, a fact it took me an embarrassingly long time to ascertain and I stepped back suddenly thinking oh no oh no someone will think I’m doing crime but I just thought it was my car.

I hurried around it to my door (which was definitely unlocked as I’d been mashing on the button). One of my classmates saw me and I wailed, “It’s the same kind of car as mine!” She laughed.

I can never emotionally recover from the embarrassment.

[nkplanet]

UNCONDITIONAL

sam x fem!reader ft. dean cw suggestive, little bit of angst, set sometime in the early seasons bc i love baby sam, reader is shorter than sam, switch sam my beloved wc 1014

summary sam can’t get enough of you notes whiny sam ib this scene from house of wax

when dean had left the two of you alone in a motel room for the night, he hadn’t imagined he’d wake up to sam alone and miserable.

and yet, there he was.

“where’s-”

“she’s gone, dean,” his brother had huffed, “long gone.”

he hadn’t prodded any further. you were one of sam’s many soft spots. a hunter yourself, you knew the risks of getting close to people. sam had thought that with both of you being hunters it would offer some reprieve, would allow you to open up to him and begin something, anything. he was almost desperate for you, but you left anyway, claiming it was too dangerous.

of course, he knew that most hunters isolated themselves. bobby and gordon sprang to mind immediately.

still, he had hope.

you saw each other again some months later. this time, you’d helped the boys on a case, sticking around long enough for sam to get to know you somewhat better. it frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t get further than the walls you’d built up, but he understood.

you hadn’t spent the night together the way you had three times before then, instead parting ways at sundown with a kiss that could have rivalled romeo and juliet. sam was addicted to your lips, your eyes, your body. you weren’t faring any better; sam’s body on yours and the noises he made played on your mind constantly.

and then: radio silence. once again.

even dean was beginning to worry about you. you normally checked in with them, especially after a tough case, but they’d heard nothing for weeks upon weeks.

that was, until you showed up at their motel door.

dean had ushered you in out of the rain immediately after taking the necessary precautions (read: splashing you with holy water). you were tired, a little bloodied, and soaked to the bone, but otherwise okay. he sat you on a bed and brought you a towel, allowing you a moment of peace before he threw questions at you.

“you’ve had sammy worry sick, y’know,” he said, giving you yet another once over.

“i know, i’m sorry. i’ve been on a long hunt. no cell service for weeks,” you said, wringing out your hair.

“and?”

“a werewolf clan. six of them. had to pick them off one by one and the last one chased me here. i killed it on the border of town and by then i had nothing. no supplies other than the clothes on my back and weapons in my hand and god knows what in my pockets,” you explained.

dean whistled. “so how’d you find us?”

“i called-” you started, as the door swung open. you tensed, immediately relaxing the second you saw a mop of brown hair atop a lanky frame.

“sammy,” you whispered.

sam’s head snapped to you, which dean took as his cue to leave.

“hey,” you said lamely, standing.

“where have you been?” sam said immediately. you could tell he was torn between being mad at you for disappearing and worried at your complete absence from the world.

“a hunt. it’s a long story. i had no cell service for two weeks,” you said, stood stock still. you didn’t want to startle the man in front of you, instead letting him come to you.

“i’ve missed you,” he all but whispered, closing the distance between you and putting his hands on your waist.

“i’m sorry,” you replied. he leaned down to kiss you, one hand coming up to cradle your neck.

your lips met, beginning slow but soon moving towards something more like hungry. you’d been starved of each other for too long, and sam didn’t intend to let you go this time. he chased your lips as you backed away for air, moving once again to the bed.

“that one’s dean’s,” sam said against your lips, directing you to his own bed. you giggled, making your way over and allowing sam to sit on his bed. you stood inbetween his legs, craning your neck down a little to kiss him more.

he slipped his tongue in your mouth, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you ran your hands across his broad shoulders, down his toned chest, as his own danced up and down your back, occasionally reaching your ass. he moved back towards the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. you straddled his thighs with your own, practically crawling to him. you looked down at him through half-lidded eyes as he looked at you, nothing but adoration on his face. you leaned in once more, connecting again.

sam’s hands travelled further, spreading across your waist and against your stomach, settling eventually underneath your thighs. yours migrated down, feeling his abs and oh so carefully brushing his obvious erection. at that, sam let out a whine, which he tried to stop almost immediately. you smirked at him.

“haven't heard that one before,” you said, teasing him.

he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, well, i was on top last time.”

“maybe we should do this more often then.”

sam’s response was to pull you in again, to which you let out a gasp, making him smile into the kiss. he ran his hand through your hair and you moaned, at which point dean chose to enter the room again.

“c’mon guys, i don’t wanna see that shit,” he complained dramatically, covering his eyes.

you sighed and rolled off sam’s lap. he pulled a pillow onto it in your place to hide the bulge in his jeans.

“don’t just barge in like that then,” sam retorted, obviously annoyed at his brother.

“‘s not my fault you two chose to get it on in our shared motel room!”

you rolled your eyes at their bickering, leaning down to get the towel you’d forgotten the minute you saw sam and using it to dry your hair. looking over at sam, you knew it would be hard to leave him again. you couldn’t stay forever - all three of you knew that - but maybe this time you could stay for longer.

[monster-effer]

Syntribation Pt. 2 | Research – Sylus x reader

Summary: Sharing your fears with Sylus led to this. You are out of your element, but is that such a bad thing? Content: MDNI, explicit smut, syntribation, creampie, reader and Sylus are dating, fluff (2.1k wc) A/N: Uhh the brain worms really took a hold of me while I wrote this. I hope y’all enjoy this ride! <3 Part 2 to this requested by @ononpetitecroissant

Sylus is an adaptable man. He is skilled at analyzing the strengths and weaknesses of any challenge he faces. When you, his wonderful partner, shared the fear that held you back, Sylus resolved to help you quell said fear. But first he needed to see what made you tick.

You are a beautiful sight as you lay bare in his bed. Sylus sits in a chair near the bed so he can see everything that is about to unfold. The soft music playing in the background added to the sensual atmosphere.

It is difficult to restrain himself as his eyes sweep your figure. He feels his cock hardening in his pajama pants and you have not made a move yet.

He can practically see you overthinking from where he sits. But he is in love with you in any state. You have all of this attention.

He swirls the dry red wine around in his glass and takes a sip before settling back into the chair.

“How are you feeling kitten?”

Your already pounding heart increases its tempo when his smooth voice breaks you out of your inner turmoil. It was your idea to help him “research” syntribation. But currently you were regretting your horny brain for making such a quick decision.

You feel awkward, out of your element. You have never done this in front of another person and the performance anxiety was getting to you.

You lick your dry lips and take in a small breath as you shift around on his silky sheets. “I feel a little nervous,” you say shakily.

You turn your head to the side to meet his eyes. “But I still want to do this, just give me a moment.” You hear Sylus hum softly in agreement.

Although it is always dark in his bedroom, you close your eyes to center yourself. Then you take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth. After repeating this a few times, you feel your heart rate lower to a normal pace. Next, you stretch out your limbs before settling back into the sheets.

‘I can do this. I can do this. I can this,’ you repeatedly tell yourself before you feel hyped up enough to continue.

Your eyes remain closed as you begin to straighten out your legs and slide them close together. When your legs are as close together as they can be you start tensing and relaxing your thighs.

The familiar tingly pleasure ripples through your body as you begin to hold the tension in your muscles for longer periods of time. You alternate between swaying your hips side to side and back and forth as your thighs tense, which only adds to your pleasure.

You can feel your clit pulsing from the pressure caused by your thighs. Eventually you add in pulsing your pelvic floor muscles.

Beads of sweat form on your chest and temple from the effort you’re putting in. The addictive pleasurable feeling is almost unbearable. A slight tremor takes over your thighs as you feel yourself approach your peak.

Knowing that Sylus is watching you do something so private turns you on as you descend further into a lusty haze. You feel feverish as you take in choppy breaths. Your legs are starting to get tired, but you won’t stop until you cum. You want to cum for him.

Thoughts of this morning permeate your thoughts. The passionate kiss you shared after your confession is in the forefront. That’s what led to all of this.

Now you are vulnerably on display for him. Tensing your muscles to the point of fatigue. All so you can show Sylus how you lose control and come undone.

You can only tense your muscles twice more before crying out in ecstasy. Every orgasm is different, but one element stays the same. The sense of satisfaction that flows through your veins while your pussy repeatedly clenches and releases. It feels like you’re floating on a cloud. You melt into the cool sheets of the bed.

Once you recover from your orgasm you open your eyes. Your gaze trails over to Sylus who is still sitting in his chair.

‘He looks delicious’ is your first thought.

His erection is practically ripping through the seams of his pajama pants. The wine glass he was drinking from is abandoned on a side table. And Sylus is leaning to the left with his head resting in the palm of his hand.

The intensity of his gaze feels like it is searing your body. And his lips are holding a sinful smirk. Sylus chooses not to speak for a beat, feeling comfortable within the tension filled bedroom. When he’s committed your debauched image to memory, his eyes finally meet yours.

“I hope you didn’t tire yourself out already kitten.”

Before you can reply, he lifts his pajama top over his head. Then he slides his right hand down his stomach before reaching into his black pajama pants. An audible gasp leaves your mouth as he pulls out his cock and languidly begins to stroke it.

You watch him touch himself for longer than you’d like to admit. “I have plenty of energy left” you reply cheekily.

“Good,” Sylus murmurs. “Because I need to see you do that a few more times before I sink myself into you.” He continues to slowly stroke his cock that is slick with his own precum.

“Oh,” is all you can utter as your clit throbs sharply.

Sylus chuckles darkly as he briefly stands up to slip off this pajama pants. He spreads his long legs apart and goes back to stroking himself. He nods his head at you, encouraging you to continue.

Time passes by in a blur. Your mouth is parched by the time you recover from your third orgasm of the day. Your legs feel like jelly, and it is a struggle to catch your breath. The slick from your pussy is dampening the sheets below you. And you have more sweat covering your body than before.

Sylus was not expecting this when he questioned you this morning. He doesn’t know if he has blinked since you began.

You are a seductress. The subtle ways you moved your hips was hypnotizing. How you tensed your muscles and held your breath made him salivate. He has been edging himself as he watched multiple orgasms crash through your body.

You are captivating. He yearns for you. And Sylus has an idea of how you both can get what you need.

He rises from his chair and takes the short walk to the bed. The bed shifts as he climbs on straddles your body before leaning down for a kiss.

His warm cock is dragging against your tummy as he melds his soft lips into yours. You moan weakly and reach your hand down to touch him. Sylus grunts and pulls away from the kiss as your hand wraps around him. A few, teasing tugs from your soft hand is all he can take before he has to stop you.

“Just curious. Can you tense your muscles the same way while lying on your side?”

You bite your lip as you understand what he’s really asking. A tentative sense of warmth engulfs your heart. Although your muscles are tired you are not a quitter.

“I may be able to pull that off,” is your breathless reply.

You roll over onto your right side, resting your head on a pillow. Sylus lays down right behind you. You feel him rut his warm cock against you.

“Do you want me to fill you up, kitten?”

You whine as he teases you. “I need it so badly Sylus.”

His breath is warm on your neck as reaches for your breast and starts massaging it.

You feel like you’re losing your mind. Your aching pussy is sticky and wet from each of your orgasms. Your clit is throbbing. All you can do is fantasize about having his thick cock inside of you.

Sylus shifts on the bed and pushes his cock into the space between your thighs. He grinds it back and forth against your wet slit and your breath hitches when he bumps against your clit. Once he feels coated in your juices, he notches himself against your aching entrance and begins to press forward.

It is a big stretch. It helps that you are relaxed from your orgasms, so any pain you experience is mild. And the dragging sensation of Sylus entering you makes your mind go blank.

You feel overwhelmed by how deep he’s reaching inside of you. He seats himself to the hilt and lets you both catch your breath. When you get accustomed to his length, you straighten your legs and begin to tense your muscles.

Sylus groans lowly into your ear as your pussy grips him. You begin to wiggle your hips forward and backwards as you intermittently tense your muscles. You feel Sylus’ right arm wrap around your waist. Then he begins to thrust into your aching pussy. Together, you find a tempo that drives you both wild.

You don’t have the brain capacity left to describe the sensations wracking your body. Despite the music playing you can still hear the unmistakable squelching sound each time he rocks back into you. Although it is harder to squeeze and tense with something inside of you, the pleasure is still there. It feels like a fun challenge.

You tense as Sylus’ cock bumps into your spongey g-spot. A desperate, high-pitched moan leaves you as you feel your pussy begin to quiver. What you thought to be an impossibility is becoming reality.

You’re going to cum.

Sylus huffs behind you as he starts to pick up the pace. With how tense your body feels, he knows you are close to cumming. It becomes his sole mission to bring you to a new height.

He peppers kisses on the exposed parts of your neck and coos at you. “You’re doing so good sweetie. Just focus on clenching for me.”

In your pleasure drunk state you have no choice but to listen to him until you are frighteningly close to the edge. You hold your breath as you clench your pelvic floor muscles as hard as you can.

“That’s it,” Sylus says as he grips your breast and swirls his fingertip around your nipple. He can feel you almost push him out of your pussy from the intensity of your clenching. You whimper out his name as you flutter and cream around his cock. Your body shakes weakly as you drown in pleasure.

“Just like that,” Sylus whispers worshipfully as he continues to fuck himself into your pussy. Your wet, tight heat is pushing him to his limit and his balls begin to tighten up.

With a sense of desperation he asks, “Where do you want me to finish kitten?”

You are in your own world right now, starting to feel overstimulated from his cock dragging against your sensitive walls. “Inside me please” you reply weakly.

Sylus feels unstable from holding back so long. After a couple more thrusts, he lets out a deep growl as he releases a copious amount of cum inside your hole.

You lay there stupefied. It feels unreal that you were able to orgasm during sex. After so many failed attempts and damaged self esteem from your past relationships, you’re struggling to process what just happened. Everything you thought you knew about yourself and sex just flew out the window.

Your body is beyond tired and you can already feel the muscle soreness setting in. When you get carried away like this, the soreness you experience the next day brings a smile to your face. Because it serves as a reminder of the fun you had.

Tomorrow, the soreness will remind you of a few things:

Your first time with Sylus.

Your first time orgasming during sex.

Your desire to do this again, very soon.

Sylus interrupts your daydreaming when he says “You were breathtaking. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

He slowly pulls his softened member out of you and helps you lay down on your back. Then he begins to massage your thighs. He loves the sight of his cum dripping out of your body. It feels dangerously addictive.

“Thank you helping me feel safe enough to,” you reply tenderly. You pause before continuing.

“I think we should conduct follow up experiments to make sure today wasn’t an outlier. But I’m worn out, so let’s nap please.”

Sylus smiles at you before kissing your temple. “Let me clean you up first. Then we can do whatever you want.”

[cruel-as-sin]

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

[brandnewvoice]

HEYYYY

CAN YOU PERCHANCE WRITE

JINX×GN!READER HAVING DRUNK SEX!?

spinning vision

pairing: jinx x gn!reader - NSFW

summary: it seemed you and jinx had too much to drink at The Last Drop, and she sure looks good when your vision is spinning.

warnings: no use of y/n or pronouns, 2nd person reader, no use of nicknames, top/dom!reader, bottom/sub!jinx, drunk sex ig, dry humping, grinding, thigh riding, clothes on, overstimulation, knee against crotch thing ig, almost no aftercare.

author’s note: it’s here anon! i don’t think this is as great as my other fics but eh.

stumbling into jinx’s basement felt like a chore, arms holding to eachothers backs, holding one another just enough to keep you both not scattering to the floor. reaching closer to the center with each weak step, such step of jinx’s that brought you both to the ground, falling on your asses side by side on the hard metal surface.

you hissed in a mix of pain and annoyance, your spinning vision focusing on how she stared — or tried to, long blinks covering her irises constantly — intently at your shoulder.

“what?” you asked, watching as she crawled closer to you. “there’s a stain.” jinx noted, not giving you time to try and look at it before one of her legs perched itself in between yours.

she sat down on your thigh, one of her hands coming up to your chest and the other to examine the stain. she grumbled in annoyance shifting her hips forward to get a closer look, but the hitch of her breath from the accidental friction made her throw the importance of the stain away, as if it had importance in the first place.

her hand instead of carefully holding your shirt was now gripping your shoulder lightly for support, hesitantly rolling her hips another time with a deep breath.

the alcoholic smell that radiated off her was just a sign that you both would either really hate this or really love this in the morning, her half-lidded eyes just confirmed how bad her headache would and how much you would need to care for her, you couldn’t really care less about taking care of her, but yet.

your hands naturally made their way to her hips, motivating her to grind her hips against your thigh again. she bit her lip harshly as the grinding sped up, lowering her forehead onto your shoulder blade, a chest heaving as you placed kisses right by her ear.

jinx’s humping turning more desperate the longer it went on for, her back forming an arch and her legs moving for a better angle, which ended with her knee grinding against your core.

arousal flowing through your veins as you could feel the warmth pf her mound against your thigh, observing the way her head was thrown back in pleasure.

“c’mon jinxie, use my leg baby.” you muttered, observing her get closer to her orgasm only pushing you closer to the edge.

her moans spilled from her lips carelessly, the sinful sounds echoing together with the rustling of your clothes against hers.

her hips jerked with desperation, the sounds bubbling from her throat getting needier and louder, whines filling your ears.

you watched as her climax flowed through her, her hips trying to come to a stop and her heavy breaths. a slight wetness coming through her pants as you could feel it on your thigh.

you gripped her stuttering hips and humping her clothed cunt against yourself some more, desperate to release against her knee.

your half-lidded eyes tried focusing on the way her body convulsed with overstimulation, the way her thighs tensed, how her mouth was left agape and small tears formed on her eyes.

your body went over the edge as you reached your release, slowing down her hips and caressing her waist slowly as jinx’s body slumped forward, face hidden in the crook of your neck.

you took a few deep breaths before laying your back down to the metal floor, jinx coming down with you, her alcohol smelling breath hitting your neck. you both shifted around a little, the stickiness in your pants too uncomfortable to ignore completely.

you wrapped an arm around her when she curled up against you, sound asleep. you breathed in the mix of the scent of her hair and distinct smell of sex in the area, closing your eyes.

[thatdisasterauthor]

I am not sure where my fascination with disasters came from, but I have had it for a long, long time. So much so that I very specifically remember being in Middle School and writing a short story about a tornado hitting our school and trapping all the students in the gym (but none of the teachers, of course, because what fun would it be if the teachers were around?). My poor teacher didn't quite know what to do with me when she tried to pair everyone up by genre to critique one another's stories, as no one else had written something remotely similar. It didn't matter though, I was hooked. That afternoon I was standing in my garage and thinking about how I wanted to grow up to be an author who wrote disaster stories, and I wanted to write one story about each kind of disaster.

After several years (and two agents) trying to get these books picked up traditionally with no luck, I've decided to just do it myself. And so, the Little Disaster Books collection has been born! When you pick up a Little Disaster Book, here's what you're going to get:

A short read. Each book is around 50,000-70,000 words. That's a bit longer than a novella, and shorter than most novels, because sometimes you just need a quick book, not a door-stopper.

Each book is a standalone. Because, again, sometimes you just need something quick that you don't have to invest in for a decade while you wait for each book to come out.

Lots of queer characters of all sorts. The disaster genre is, unfortunately, pretty notorious for either not having queer characters at all, or killing them off. Little Disaster Books will instead center them and their narratives. But, the stories won't be ABOUT queerness, they'll just have characters that are queer.

No quickie romance. There will be characters in relationships (I'm a sucker for books with couples that are already together at the start), and maybe the first blooms of a potential romance, but nobody is falling head over heels when they should be focused on survival.

No gore for gore's sake. Characters might get hurt, or even die, but these aren't horror books or slasher books or anything in that vein.

A realistic look at disaster. I'm not just obsessed with fictional disasters, I'm obsessed with the real ones too. I have spent a lot of time studying disasters, myths around disasters/disaster response, and the sociology of disasters. With Little Disaster Books I have worked very, very hard to make the books as realistic as possible when it comes to things like civilian responders, everyday heroes, and how disaster response tends to work. At the end of the day they are still fiction, but they're fiction heavily grounded in reality. No "everyone for themselves/we're all animals when the lights go out" nonsense here.

Full endings. There's a bit of a trend in survival thrillers for them to end right at the climax/moment of rescue, or within a few pages of it, even if things haven't been fully wrapped up. Little Disaster Books will all have more rounded endings that delve, at least a little bit, into the aftereffects of what the characters go through, because sometimes the after is the hardest part of all.

The first book in this collection, Lie Down in the Ashes, is launching on Kickstarter on Janaury 15th, 2025! Sign up to be notified on launch here. It is about a group of teens who get caught in the middle of a fast moving wildfire that one of them accidentally starts.

Sign up to be notified on launch here.

[wheels-of-despair]

Tangled Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gets a comb stuck in his hair. Evil Woman untangles it, and a little bit of his tragic backstory comes out with it. Contains: A minor tantrum, a sad Eddie, a little hair lore, and our boy being loved and taken care of. Words: 1.2k Note: This takes place during their first winter together.

"FUCK!"

A loud clatter follows the yell from behind the closed bathroom door, making you jump from your position on the Munson's couch.

You're sitting there in borrowed sweats, watching a Mork & Mindy rerun while you wait for Eddie. You'd spent most of the day playing in the snow with the neighborhood kids, and had both required about a gallon of hot chocolate and a warm shower to recover. The girls had won the final snowball fight, which meant you earned the first shower. (He probably would've let you go first even the boys had won, but you're counting it as a victory shower anyway.)

When you don't hear anything else, you rise and slowly approach the bathroom door. Silence. You knock lightly. "Eddie? You okay?"

The door slowly creaks open, revealing a pair of worn burgundy sweats, a faded Hellfire Club shirt, half of a black comb stuck in a tangle of matted hair, and the most pathetic puppy eyes you've ever seen.

"You okay?" you ask again.

"Comb got stuck," he says miserably.

"Want me to get it out?"

Eddie squirms, looking like he wants to wash himself down the drain. He turns toward the mirror and gives another feeble attempt at getting the comb out. You lean against the doorframe, waiting for him to ask for help, and your eyes drift to the bathtub. All of the bottles that usually sit on the ledge are scattered across the bottom of the tub. He must've thrown something and knocked them all down. Maybe you should take him bowling sometime.

Eddie sighs, releases the comb, and hangs his head in defeat. Looking at the floor, he turns to you and nods his head slowly.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assure him, as quietly as you can. "C'mon." You tilt your head toward the living room and start walking, hoping he'll follow.

You slide the coffee table to the side, drop a pillow on the floor for him to sit on, and take your seat on the couch. You gesture for him to sit between your legs. He does, reluctantly. You want so badly to know what's actually wrong, you feel like you may burst… but you know better than to ask.

You reach for the comb embedded in his wet hair without a word, and he flinches. You rest your hands on your knees instead.

You play with his hair all the time. When you watch movies, his head often ends up on your lap, and your hands gravitate to it. He gets the cutest little smile on his face when you tuck his hair behind his ear. You know for a fact that rubbing light circles on That One Spot on his scalp will put him right to sleep. Why is this different?

"You okay?" you ask.

"Yeah."

"You know I'm gonna try my very best not to hurt you, right?"

"Yeah." His voice is hollow. Emotionless.

You carefully reach for the mass of tangles and the buried comb again. He tenses, but doesn't flinch. You begin working it out, piece by piece, taking your time and focusing all your energy on keeping it painless while the laugh track on TV keeps the room from falling into awkward silence.

When you finally get the comb out, you set it aside and reach for your own brush. Starting at the ends, you gently work out all the rest of Eddie's tangles. The whole process takes nearly an hour, and he doesn't move a muscle the whole time.

"Alright, you're done," you finally declare, setting your brush aside. He heaves a sigh of relief, and you lean down to kiss the top of his head.

He turns sideways and rests his chin on your knee. You cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb across his flushed cheek, and he closes his eyes. Just when you think he's fallen asleep, he heaves another sigh and starts talking.

"My mom used to brush my hair when I was little. Her brush had those hard, scratchy bristles that felt like wire." He swallows, but still doesn't open his eyes. "My hair wasn't this long, but I used to play outside all day. To get away from them, mostly. But when I came home at dark, she'd make me stand in front of her in the kitchen so she could brush it. She'd yank and pull at it and brush my neck and my ears and my forehead. I think it actually drew blood once or twice. If I moved or complained, she'd put me over her knee and use the other side."

You didn't realize your hand had stopped stroking his cheek until he stopped talking. You move it to his shoulder, still a little damp from his hair, and give him a light squeeze.

"One day, after she died, I went in the bathroom with scissors I stole from school and cut it all off. Well, I tried. They were dull and kid-sized. Dad laughed at me when he saw it. Made me go to school like that. The nurse finally took pity on me and evened it out after a few days."

He crawls onto the couch and lays his head on your lap, facing the TV. Normally in this position, your hands would be in his hair immediately, but today… you hesitate. Although he can't see you do it, he must sense it. He puts his hand on your knee, palm up. You take it, and place your other hand on his arm in a gesture you hope is comforting.

"When I came to live with Wayne, he'd give us both a buzz cut on the first of every month. The noise from the clippers scared the shit out of me at first, but after watching him do his own a few times, I finally let him do mine. I didn't start growing it out again 'til the summer I graduated from middle school. That's when I decided nobody was gonna fuck with it. And nobody was gonna fuck with me."

He lets go of your hand and flips onto his back, staring up at you.

"Kay, that's the whole traumatic hair story you didn't ask for."

You smile and reach for his hand again.

"It doesn't bother you when I play with it?"

"Not gonna lie… scared the hell out of me the first time," he chuckles. "Usually, when a girl goes for the hair, it's to pull it or stick something in it. One time, a girl dragged me across the playground with it. But you? Just started twirling it and playing with it and putting me to sleep. Didn't ever want you to stop. Couldn't fucking believe it."

You feel your heart warm at his confession, and finally let your hand return to that beautiful head of hair. Your fingers lightly work at his scalp, and he smiles sleepily up at you.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?" You know he knows, but you need him to hear it. "Unless it's like… in a kinky way that you specifically request."

"I'll keep that in mind," he smirks.

[dustisus]

Imagine you are Erik Klose. You get an exchange student who is obviously not doing alright, but you and your family show him that there is nothing wrong with him. Over the year he comes out of his shell and you are so in love with the vibrant person who has been hiding in there all year so you tell him you love him and he tells you he loves you too.

He goes back home but he returns (for you) when there is nothing left for him there, and your family is so ready to embrace him as one of their own. You catch him and your grandma in the kitchen, and she's teaching him the family recipe for Spätzle and he's teaching her the ingredients' names in Spanish. When the winter comes he is always the first one to volunteer to shovel snow with your father. When warmer temperatures come you wake up to his voice streaming in from the window where he always has breakfast with your mother. Your family loves him, so when he decides to move away again to take care of his own family (we are your family, too, you tell him, and he just smiles) they cry just as much as you do. The night before he has to wake up early to catch his plane you ask him to marry you, in the future, when it's legal, and he says yes. Still you wake up from his alarm early in the morning and his kiss goodbye.

At first you speak on the phone every day but then a job takes you across the country and takes all your time, and when his first job doesn't make him enough money for a three-bedroom house, he gets another one, and then another, until you have to schedule calls days in advance and most days you just text. But he tells you again and again that those boys need him, and from the sound of it, they do need someone to love them. And who will love them like your fiancé will love them? You have never met a person so capable of love, of engagement, in your life.

The call comes one early morning and he says that one of the twins has been arrested, that he has gotten into a fight, that it was to defend him, and doesn't mention until several minutes into the frantic call that it was him that he was defending. He says he has a smarting rib but is okay but what will happen to his cousin? I don't care, you don't say.

Finally the twins turn 18 and you start a countdown until they graduate in the spring, but come March he calls you and says they have all been offered full-ride scholarships, on the term that they all play Exy. The coach says he needs to keep an eye on Andrew, and maybe that would be for the best? he asks, and then when can start a life together I'd have a degree, and... and... By the time the call ends, he's convinced, and you could never step on his dreams.

Over the first year he calls you and tells you about his asshole teammates, and of how he answers on Andrew's beck and call to make sure things run somewhat smoothly within the team. You hear him pause slightly before choosing his words, consciously choosing the most innocent ones for his twins and the most incriminating ones for himself.

In the summer he comes home to you, but the summer is too short.

The next year, his texts dwindle and on your calls he sniffles but says he's not crying. He calls and says he did something bad and whatever comes to him it's his fault, but won't elaborate. This sounds like what he was saying when he first met you, so you comfort him and says it isn't. It's just been difficult, he says, when a teammate's died. You want to tell him it's so simple here, so simple to you, but you don't. It's not what he needs to hear.

The next few months are a shitshow that you only hear about from his calls and texts, and then eventually some news articles that reach you from the other side of the world. It worries you to know that he is distantly involved with some of the people that are not mentioned by name in the articles, but that you recognize from his stories. Once again, you tell yourself that he knows how to manage it, has always been able to manage it.

The chaos culminates at the championship finals and you are there to see it all go down. He turns his head to you, shouts your name as you spot the opposite player come close to killing your fiancé's friend. He lives, but the opposite player doesn't, and there are no loud celebrations for you to take part in. That night you and your fiancé celebrate quietly, on your own. You have not seen him in almost a year, and it's as if some of the vibrancy has run out of him. His eyes lack a glint, his hair a shine.

You stay a week and you meet the twins in person for the first time. Andrew is more subdued now than in past stories, Aaron feistier. You don't care much for them, but they are important to Nicky, so you make an effort. Neither will talk to you.

It only takes two days until Aaron catches you cuddling on the sofa in the dorm and you overhear an ew. It bewilders you but Nicky is falling asleep so you just continue running your fingers through his hair. The next day all of the Foxes have gathered for a film night, and Nicky has talked about how excited he is for you to meet them and introduces you to them with a joke and a flourish. They tell him to shut up, and Nicky laughs it off as a joke. Maybe you just did not get it. The rest of the night they try to pull you into also harping on Nicky, and get bored when you just say that you love him.

A week into your visit, Andrew pulls a knife on Nicky, and all the moments you have shared with him, all the ones you have planned, flash before your eyes. Nicky doesn't even seem scared, and the Foxes around them watch you curiously instead of the crime before them. Before you know what you're doing you have grabbed Andrew to pull him off, pull him away, but you're quickly overpowered.

Nicky cries as he patches you up. You understand he had not wanted you to see that, and you don't know what to say. You pull up the edge of his shirt to find small scars patterning the bottom of his abdomen, and for the first time you see them as what they are and not as a result of the game. You ask how often this happens, and he says only when I deserve it. He says it and you watch yourself transported, sitting in Berlin with a boy who said I deserved it, and once again you tell him he has never deserved this. You tell him he needs to leave, to please go back home with you, that they are not his family, but he says he can't. You have not seen him so grey in years.

He sees you off at the airport when you leave. Once again you plead for him to come with you, and once again he says he can't. You know you can't force it, can only say that you'll wait as long as it takes.