#i promise this will be the last one for a while

[cumironi]

CREAM-OF-THE-CROP CUNT, MAMA

feat, gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

summary. what? just because you are six months pregnant your husband is gonna stop worshipping you? nooooo. . . he became worse, and the idea of making sure you are pregnant (despite the bump) makes them go crazy, especially with your little sweet bump.

trigger/warnings. non-sorcerer, everyone trying to be a gentleman (fails), calling reader “mama,” pussy-drunk behavior, pregnant sex, belly worship, size kink, deep penetration, unprotected vaginal sex, leg-folding position, full nelson vibes, praise kink, possessive language, swearing / explicit language, references to breeding kink (implied), overstimulation, internal ejaculation, cum leaking, soft dom / feral energy blend, emotional intensity, aftercare / caretaking (gentle touches, kisses), power imbalance (older man / younger woman), oral fixation (kissing, belly + knee worship)

GOJO SATORU

“—you’re gonna kill me,” gojo groans, forehead pressed against yours, voice ragged like he’s been running for miles, but really, all he’s been doing is holding himself together—barely—as your legs wrap tighter around his waist and you moan his name like it’s a damn prayer and a curse all at once. “no, seriously, baby, i’m—i’m dying. you’re murdering me with this pussy. it’s a crime. i should call the cops. except i am the fucking cops. i’m the fbi. i’m the law. and you’re under arrest. for being—fuck—for being too hot while pregnant.”

you try to say something, maybe something like “shut up” or “just keep going” or maybe just his name again, but you can’t—you’re too full, too stretched, too wrecked already and he hasn’t even really started yet.

“so tight,” he breathes, like the thought has him hypnotized. “how are you tighter while pregnant? is that a thing? can i google it later? because this is—jesus, baby—this is like heaven. like… like heaven wrapped in velvet wrapped in a vice grip wrapped in the greatest porn i’ve ever watched except it’s real and it’s you and it’s mine.”

he kisses your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts that’s grown fuller over the last few weeks—his obsession. he talks to them like they’re separate beings. he’s lost his mind and he’s made peace with it.

“gonna feed our baby with these,” he mutters, latching onto one nipple like it’s instinct, groaning like the taste of your skin alone could make him cum. “gonna wake up at 3am to help you, promise, swear to god. but only if i get to do this first. every night. every fucking night, sweetheart.”

you whimper, and it makes his whole body stutter, hips rocking deeper, harder, like your sound gives him permission to lose rhythm entirely.

“there it is,” he grins, breathless and boyish, completely wrecked and stupid and so very in love. “that’s the sound. the one that says i’m the best dick you’ve ever had. right? right, baby? tell me. tell me i’m better than anyone you’ve ever let near this sweet pussy.”

you moan, back arching. he whines, literally whines, like your approval is the only thing keeping him alive.

“please—please just say it. tell me i’m your favorite. tell me this cock is your favorite. tell me i ruined you for other men. tell me you forgot what it feels like to walk straight.”

you grab his face and pull him down to kiss you, hard, messy, open-mouthed and wet, your teeth knocking a little and your breath catching when he grinds into that exact spot inside you that makes you cry out his name again, and he groans, forehead falling to your shoulder.

“fuck, fuck, yes. that’s it, baby. say it again—no, scream it, moan it, tattoo it into my brain. god, i’m so fucking obsessed with you. you don’t even know. you don’t. i think about you 24/7. i check your pregnancy tracker app more than you do. i’m unwell. i’m feral.”

his hips move faster, deeper now, but not rough—he still holds your body like it’s made of glass, one hand bracing under your lower back to tilt your hips just right, the other rubbing slow, firm circles over your clit like he’s trying to make you finish before him and prove a point.

“wanna cum in you again,” he growls against your throat, “wanna fill you up more even though you’re already pregnant, like my dumb caveman brain doesn’t understand we already did it. it just wants to do it again, because it likes you like this. likes you glowing, round, leaking—fuck, baby, you’re leaking, i’m gonna go insane—”

“satoru,” you gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulder as your thighs start to tremble, “satoru, i—i’m gonna—”

“yes,” he hisses, pace erratic now, “do it, do it, cum on this cock, make it tight, milk me, baby, do it so good i forget my own damn name—”

you shatter under him with a cry that hits the ceiling, your body pulsing around him so hard he lets out a strangled noise, like he’s not sure if it’s a moan or a sob or both.

he falls apart seconds later, buried deep, coming with a broken gasp of your name and a string of barely intelligible worship like “so good, so pretty, made for me, mine, mine, mine” until he finally collapses onto your chest, heart racing, sweat-slick, and completely, utterly gone.

a long beat of silence passes.

“…you good?” you murmur, stroking his hair.

he doesn’t move. just groans into your neck like he might cry.

“i think i left my soul in your pussy.”

you laugh.

“i’m serious,” he says, lifting his head with that wild, disheveled, utterly sexed-out look he wears so well. “if you don’t name our baby after this pussy i’m gonna be personally offended.”

“you want me to name our child… pussy satoru gojo?”

“well, i mean—middle name at least. or like a secret codename. for the groupchat.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes.

he grins like you’ve just married him.

“love you, baby. love you so much. let’s do it again in like fifteen minutes. or five. i’m stupid. i make bad decisions.”

“clearly.”

“i would literally die if you asked.”

“…fine.”

“i’m naming the second one ‘round two.’”

GETO SUGURU

“you know what you do to me?” geto growls into your mouth, lips slick from kissing, voice thick like smoke and syrup as he thrusts into you again—deep, slow, brutal. “you fuckin’ know what this pussy’s done to me, baby?”

you gasp—louder than you mean to, thighs trembling where they’re wrapped around his hips, nails clawing down his shoulders because there’s no logic in your body right now, just raw sensation. he laughs—a dark, low, chest-rumbling sound—and grabs your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek, not hard, just enough to keep you right there.

“oh, don’t go dumb on me now,” he coos, filthy and fond and absolutely feral. “we’re just gettin’ started, sweet thing. gotta give me that voice, yeah? lemme hear what my good girl sounds like when she’s pregnant and cockdrunk.”

you whimper, and he moans, like your breath is enough to push him right over the edge.

“that’s it,” he hisses, licking the corner of your mouth, forehead pressed to yours. “fuck. fuck, you’re so good like this. all fucked out, all round and soft and warm for me—jesus, this body? i could live inside you. no house. no job. just this pussy, twenty-four-seven. put me on your goddamn lease.”

his hips snap forward hard, and the sound your body makes when he hits bottom is wet, obscene, absolutely unholy.

“listen to that,” he pants, dragging your leg higher over his shoulder, splitting you open wider. “god, you’re so fucking wet, baby—like you like when i fuck you like this. like you want me to ruin you. knock you up again, even though you’re already full.”

he palms your belly—his belly, really—with one big, gentle hand, cupping the firm swell like it’s the most sacred thing in the world. his thumb moves in lazy circles as he rocks into you, slower now, deeper, pressing against every spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

“you’re everything,” he says, softer now, reverent in the worst way, like he’s praying to the altar of your body while rearranging your insides. “everything. this body—fuck. your tits are bigger. hips too. got this glow, baby, you know that? like you were made to carry me. to take me. to breed for me.”

you clench around him so hard he stutters, eyes going wide, mouth falling open.

“oh fuck—fuck,” he moans, suddenly undone. “you like that? yeah? you like when i talk about putting a ring on this pussy? you like hearing how ruined i am for you?”

you nod, frantic and breathless, and he kisses you hard—sloppy and hungry—before dragging his lips down your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp.

“gonna cum inside,” he growls against your skin. “gonna stuff you full and hold it in with my cock. keep it there. make sure every drop stays in, yeah?”

“suguru—” you cry, already close, voice breaking on his name like it’s the only thing you know anymore.

he fucking shudders.

“say it again,” he gasps. “say my name while i fill you up. say it like you want it.”

“suguru, suguru, i—fuck—i’m gonna—”

“yeah, baby,” he moans, gripping your hips, thrusts rougher now, faster. “cum on it. cum on this dick, show me how good i fucked you, lemme feel this pussy milk me dry—”

you tighten, legs locking around him, and then you're gone—clenching, shaking, falling apart under him while he watches you unravel with this fucking look on his face like you’re a miracle and a sin and the only thing that matters.

he cums right after, hips jerking as he empties into you with a loud, broken sound, like he’s dying and being reborn at the same time.

you nod, dazed. “you’re insane.”

for a long moment, all you hear is your heart racing and his breath—harsh, warm, uneven—ghosting across your skin. then, soft, “you okay?” he whispers, stroking your thigh, still inside you, not even thinking about moving yet.

“mhm,” he grins, kissing your temple. “insane for you. and for that pussy.”

you slap his chest halfheartedly.

he just laughs, still deep in you, still hardening again.

“round two?” he murmurs, voice all wicked sweetness. “or you want me to eat you ‘til you cry first?”

NANAMI KENTO

“i can be patient,” nanami grits out from behind you, voice low and sharp like he’s holding himself together with string and sheer willpower. “i can be—gentle.”

you’re on your side, belly cradled by soft pillows, one leg bent forward over his thigh as he moves behind you, slowly rocking into you like he’s afraid you’ll break if he goes too hard—like he doesn’t already know how filthy you get for him when he’s trying to behave.

and he’s trying. god, he is. his hand’s on your hip, warm and steady. the other one cups under your belly, like he’s shielding you even as he’s pushing deep, deep into you from behind.

“you’re doing so well,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and reverent, brushing kisses to your shoulder. “i don’t want to hurt you. i want to take care of you. i want to make you feel good, not—”

you moan.

just a little. just a soft, breathy “kento—” as your fingers grip the sheets and your hips push back into him.

and that’s it.

the last thread of his control snaps.

he groans—growls, almost—and suddenly he’s pressing forward harder, deeper, his breath catching as he ruts into you like he’s been holding back for weeks.

“fuck,” he grits, forehead pressed to your back. “you’re so goddamn warm. too soft. too tight. i can’t—I’m trying to—shit—”

his grip on your hip tightens, dragging you back against him with every thrust now, and his hand slides from under your belly to your thigh, hiking your leg higher over his hip so he can push in even deeper.

“you feel that?” he groans into your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “feel how deep i am, sweetheart? god—i can’t be gentle when you sound like that. when you feel like this.”

you whimper, back arching, and he moans again—louder this time, raw and low and completely undone.

“you’re perfect,” he pants, hips snapping faster. “everything about you. this body—this sweet, wet little cunt—fuck, it’s made for me. even pregnant, you take me so well. better than anyone ever has.”

you choke on a moan and he presses his palm to your belly again, as if the feel of it grounds him.

“i think about you all day,” he confesses, fucking into you now with slow, brutal depth. “about this. about how you sound. about how you feel when i’m inside you, tight and hot and fluttering like you’re made to be full.”

he kisses your shoulder, your neck, his other hand sliding between your legs to find your clit—slow, careful, precise.

“come for me,” he whispers, mouth right against your ear, filthy and tender all at once. “come around me while i’m deep inside you. show me how good i make you feel.”

and you do—shaking, moaning, gasping his name like it’s the only thing you know, and he follows with a desperate groan, spilling into you so deep you feel the warmth spread through your belly, his body trembling against yours.

after, he doesn’t move. just stays inside you, one hand over your womb, the other tangled with yours in the sheets.

“…i was trying to be gentle,” he says quietly, embarrassed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

you hum, sated. “you tried.”

he sighs. “i’ll try again tomorrow.”

pause.

“after round two.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

“slow,” toji murmurs, his big hands gripping your hips just barely, letting you grind down on him with shaky control, his cock sheathed inside you and twitching like it’s barely surviving this torture. “take your time, baby. i’m good. i’m—fuck—i’m fine.”

he is not fine.

he’s seated on the couch, thighs spread wide, muscles tense as hell under your legs, back arched ever so slightly, jaw tight. you’re four months pregnant, round and glowing and gorgeous, your belly pressing against his abs as you roll your hips slow and sweet—just like he asked for. like he said he wanted.

and he’s dying.

“look at you,” he groans, eyes glued to the way you take him. “ridin’ me so good. so pretty. so fuckin’ wet. you were always tight, but now? now you’re perfect.”

your hands are on his shoulders, clinging. your breath catches every time your body takes him deeper, and he feels it—feels how warm you are, how your walls squeeze around him like you don’t want him to leave. it’s driving him insane.

“you said slow,” you remind him, voice breaking with a whimper as your rhythm falters.

and that’s his breaking point.

because your voice? shaking, breathless, wanting?

it wrecks him.

“fuck that,” toji snarls suddenly, surging forward, arms wrapping around your back and pulling you flush to his chest. “nah. no. fuck slow. i can’t. you sound like that, and expect me to wait? you’re outta your mind.”

he lifts his hips, thrusting up into you so hard your mouth drops open in a silent moan, hands scrambling for his chest as he sets a brutal pace from underneath.

“you wanted gentle?” he growls against your throat, licking and biting at your skin while he pistons into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. “you’re riding me, baby. i’m not gonna sit here like some saint while this tight fuckin’ pussy squeezes the life outta me.”

you cry out, and he grins, savage and wild and in love with the way your face goes all slack and overwhelmed.

“that’s it,” he pants, one hand gripping your ass, the other sliding between your bodies to rub tight, fast circles over your clit. “gimme that look. gimme those sounds. lemme hear how good i’m fucking my pregnant girl.”

you whine his name, and he loses it.

“say it again,” he groans. “fuckin’ say it, baby. tell me who put this baby in you.”

“you,” you cry, clinging to him, “you did—”

“damn right i did,” he growls, pounding up into you, your belly bouncing slightly between your bodies with each thrust, “and i’ll do it again. and again. keep you pregnant. keep you full. keep you so cockdrunk you forget how to fucking walk.”

your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt, your whole body spasming in his lap, and he catches you with a moan of pure worship, holding you tight as you milk every drop of his release from him.

“shit, baby,” he pants, hips twitching. “you were made for this. made to take me. made to carry me.”

he collapses back against the couch, pulling you with him, still inside you, cradling your body in his massive arms.

a beat of silence.

“that was you being gentle?” you ask, breathless.

he shrugs, smug. “i didn’t bend you over. that counts.”

you groan.

he kisses your shoulder and mutters, “round two, though? i’m not holdin’ back.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

“slow,” he grits out, jaw clenched, breath shaking as he presses his hips flush to your ass, thick cock buried deep and throbbing inside your soaking heat. “we’re going slow, sweetheart. we’re taking our time. i’m not gonna break you.”

he says that, but his hands are already digging into your thighs, thumbs pressed to the crease between your cheeks and your legs like he’s trying to brand you with his grip. you’re four months pregnant, hips rounder, belly starting to show—and you’re on all fours, arms trembling, moaning into the pillow with every slow, too-deep roll of his hips.

“you good?” he mutters, pretending to breathe through it like he’s not the one seconds from blacking out. “you okay, baby?”

you nod, gasping, “yes—yes, ‘kuna—feels so good—”

and that breaks him.

“fuckin’—shit,” he growls, slamming into you with a sharp, wet slap, and you cry out, head dropping, body jolting forward from the force. “don’t say my name like that. don’t moan for me like that and expect me to stay sane.”

he grips your hips hard, pulling you back into every brutal thrust now, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“you were made for this,” he snarls, staring down at the way your body takes him, slick and tight and fluttering around him like you like being used. “look at this greedy little cunt. fuckin’ dripping. goddamn soaking me. you like getting fucked with my baby in you, huh?”

you sob out a moan, and his grin turns feral.

“you want me gentle?” he pants, fucking into you so hard your thighs shake. “or you want me to fuck you like i own you?”

you can’t even answer. you’re too wrecked already, too full, too overwhelmed by the pressure and heat and the way he hits that deep spot inside you like he knows exactly what it does.

“that’s what i thought,” he hisses. “fuckin’ moaning like you need it rough. like you need me to snap. you want it, don’t you? want to be fucked so hard you forget where you are. want to feel me dripping outta you all day like a good little cumdump.”

his hand snakes around your waist, palm spreading over your bump, possessive and so wrong and reverent all at once.

“this?” he mutters, low and filthy in your ear as he leans over your back, “this is mine. you’re mine. and this pussy? fuck, this pussy’s the tightest shit i’ve ever had. i could stay buried in you for hours. days.”

your legs buckle as your orgasm builds, loud and fast and impossible to stop. he feels it.

“there it is,” he growls, fucking into you harder, faster, punishing. “you’re close, huh? gonna cream around me like the perfect little thing you are? let me feel it. let me feel you lose it.”

you shatter—screaming, shaking, convulsing around his cock—and sukuna doesn’t slow down. he snarls, slams into you one last time, and groans as he cums deep, spilling inside you with a raw, broken moan like he’s being torn apart.

he stays there—buried, panting, shaking, his chest pressed to your back, both hands cradling your belly now like he’s apologizing with touch.

then:

“…i was trying to behave,” he mutters, voice raspy, and you wheeze out a laugh.

“you said ‘slow’ and then folded in thirty seconds.”

“yeah, well,” he grins, cock still twitching inside you, “you were moaning. that’s cheating.”

he kisses your shoulder, pulls out with a groan, and watches his cum spill from you with the most self-satisfied, absolutely feral look you’ve ever seen.

“round two’s gonna be worse,” he promises.

“worse how?”

“i’m not gonna pretend to be nice next time.”

SHIU KONG

“you feel that, mama?” shiu murmurs low, breath thick with smoke as he exhales slowly, cock buried deep inside you from behind, dragging it out slow just to watch your legs shake. “feel how this pussy keeps suckin’ me back in? like she misses me every time i pull out.”

your cheek’s pressed to the desk, fingers curled around the edge, thighs trembling. you try to say something—but he thrusts back in, sharp and deep, and your words turn into a soft, broken moan.

“fuck, yeah,” he grins, watching the way your back arches. “that’s my good girl. takin’ it like a champ even with my baby in your belly. still greedy. still so tight. you got no shame, huh? gettin’ fucked over my desk like this?”

you whimper, and he groans, gripping your hips tighter, his tone dropping deeper.

“god, look at you. four months pregnant and still so fuckin’ sexy. makin’ me obsessed. makin’ me stupid. you know what it does to me when you walk around like this, belly all round, tits all full, smellin’ like sweat and sweetness and mine?”

he grinds his hips forward again, harder now, making your body jolt. you moan his name, voice wrecked, and he smirks around his cigarette.

“there we go,” he breathes. “that’s it, mama. keep callin’ me like that. makes me wanna knock you up all over again, see how many times i can stretch this body before you break.”

he pulls out halfway and slams back in, deep and deliberate, the desk creaking beneath you. you gasp, and his hand slides down your spine, warm and heavy, keeping you flat against the desk.

“y’know,” he says, smoke curling from his mouth as he fucks you in slow, ruthless strokes, “i tell myself every time i’ll go easy on you. that i’ll be nice, treat my baby mama with respect.”

he laughs, low and wrecked.

“and then you bend over like this, ass up, pussy drippin’ down your thighs, beggin’ for it—an’ suddenly i’m back to being a filthy fuck who can’t stop.”

you cry out as his hips slam into you again, and he moans—loud and shameless.

“you feel that, mama?” he pants. “that’s my cock hitting the back of your fuckin’ throat from the wrong direction. you’re so full right now—goddamn, i can feel you pulse.”

his hand slips down, two fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your knees buckle.

“c’mon, baby,” he urges, voice hoarse and wrecked, “give it to me. let this cock ruin you. let daddy hear how good he’s fuckin’ his perfect little mama.”

you cum with a cry, clenching around him so hard he curses, nearly drops the cigarette, and loses rhythm entirely as he groans, slamming into you once, twice, again—before burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a rough, filthy moan of your name.

he stays there, panting, one hand on your belly, the other sliding up your back to your neck, grounding you both.

then—

“...we’re doin’ this again after you nap,” he mutters, pulling his cigarette back between his lips, grinning like a devil. “mama needs to be real full tonight.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

“that’s it, mama,” higuruma groans, voice low and rough as he presses deep into you, eyes locked on the curve of your stomach where your bodies meet, “just like that. let me in. let me make you feel good.”

your thighs tremble where they rest on his shoulders, and he tightens his grip around your ankles, palms warm and broad, grounding you as he starts to move—slow at first, like he’s savoring every inch of you, every slick drag of your walls squeezing him in.

“fuck,” he breathes, watching your face contort as you gasp, “you’re so tight. how are you still this tight, mama? this pussy was made to milk me.”

you whimper, one hand cradling your belly, the other tangled in the sheets as he rocks into you with long, deep strokes. your bump rises slightly with every thrust, your body pliant and flushed and already soaked from the way he touched you before this even started.

and he adores it.

he adores you.

“look at you,” he mutters, pace growing faster without meaning to, “legs up, belly out, takin’ my cock like a good mama. my perfect mama.”

you moan his name—ragged and helpless—and his eyes darken, hips snapping harder.

“that’s it,” he growls, leaning in until your knees are almost beside your head, his cock reaching so deep now. “say it again. let me hear how good i fuck my mama.”

“hiromi,” you gasp, back arching, “feels so good—too deep—”

he groans—loud, wrecked—and fucks into you harder.

“you can take it,” he hisses, lips grazing your ear, “you’re so strong, baby. carrying our child, takin’ this dick like it’s yours—‘cause it is. this cock belongs to you. every part of me does.”

your eyes roll back as he slams into that perfect spot inside you, over and over, his pace no longer controlled—he’s feral, now, panting and moaning, eyes flicking down to where you’re stretched open around him, cum-slick and pulsing.

“gonna fill you up again,” he whispers, reverent and wild all at once. “stuff you full, even though you’re already carrying mine. fuck, mama—this pussy needs it. she’s beggin’ for it.”

you’re trembling, legs shaking against his shoulders, and he grabs under your knees, folding you further, giving you nowhere to go—just take it, every inch, every praise-dripping thrust.

“cum for me,” he commands, rough and soft all at once. “cum with me inside. let me feel you. let me feel how good this pussy knows her man.”

you cry out as your orgasm hits, tightening around him like a vice, and his whole body shudders.

he groans your name, hips jerking, and spills inside you with a low, desperate moan.

“fuck, mama—fuck. you’re everything.”

he stays buried for a long moment, breathing hard, watching your body twitch beneath him—flushed, used, loved—and then lowers your legs gently, kissing your knees, your belly, your lips.

“did so well,” he whispers. “my mama’s so good for me.”

you hum sleepily, still dazed. “you went crazy.”

he smiles, brushing your hair back from your face.

“i am crazy,” he says, kissing your forehead, “for you.”

[anonf1writer]

the reaction after he stands up for his family — single parent universe

second part to this.

text au. ig post. 2k words. drivers: max, charles, oscar and lando.

note: i promised there would be a second part, and here it is. i tried something different, so i hope i didn’t disappoint (although i have the feeling already this wont be everyones cup of tea, so im sorry in advance!).

thank you to everyone who sent requests that led me to create this cute universe. ive had the greatest time with it, and i know it wouldnt have happened without your ideas. so thank you ❤️

──────────────────

MAX

First, came the soft click of Oliver’s bedroom door, and then the lazy thump of Max’s feet making his way back to you. 

Leaning your side against the kitchen counter, you knew a conversation was coming. From the moment you heard the question and turned the TV off, to the moment Max arrived home with a smile on his face, you knew it wouldn’t be something either of you could ignore. 

“Fucking hell,” he murmured as soon as he stepped into view, both hands running up and down his face. “I can’t remember the last time I wanted to punch someone’s stupid face this fucking much.”

You pressed your lips together and shifted on your feet, stepping away from the counter. This was the first moment alone the two of you had gotten after the race, the first moment without a little boy demanding attention, and the first moment Max was finally letting it all out. The anger, the frustration, the disappointment. So you didn’t want to shush him. You didn’t want to tell him he shouldn’t be cursing and swearing right now, that he should be careful, that he should think before he spoke. It didn’t seem fair to him, especially after he had clearly tried his best to put on a fantastic show in front of your son. 

“Did you watch it?” he asked, voice closer than before.

You nodded, removing the whistling kettle from the hob and stepping towards the empty mugs. “Just saw the video. We were watching it live on TV, but I turned it off as soon as I noticed what was happening.”

“Shit.”

“Oli didn’t hear a thing tho, don’t worry about it.”

You took your time filling the first mug, watching how the tea bag floated and swayed in the water, then eventually sank into the bottom. 

“They were so out of line,” Max said, his voice a quiet whisper in the bright kitchen. “I can’t believe that question even crossed their minds.” 

“I know…” 

“But I caught his name,” Max added. “And I had a meeting with the team as soon as I called the interview off. I’ll make sure that guy doesn’t get a fucking word from me anymore.”

You nodded again, and poured boiling water into the other mug. His mug. 

A moment went by before you felt him. Before he wrapped his arms around your waist, rested his chin on your shoulder, and pressed his chest against your back. 

“You ok?” he asked, voice low and too close to your ear. 

You placed the kettle back in place and nodded, one hand resting on his forearm and the other reaching to touch his face. 

“Yeah…” you said, your body instantly leaning into him. “I’m just… I hate that you had to go through that.”

Max nodded, his facial hair brushing your skin as he moved to kiss your palm. Once, and twice. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “For putting you two in this position.”

At that, you frowned. You dropped your hand and shifted on your feet, turning to properly face him. 

Max’s exhaustion was written all over him. But there was also worry there. Maybe a little bit of fear, too. 

“Hey,” you said, hands cradling his cheeks, eyes firm inside his gaze. “Don’t be silly. What you did for us was amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The way you stood up for us… The fact that you won’t let anyone speak about our son like that… That’s what I care about.” 

He sighed, then leaned in. Forehead resting against yours while he closed his eyes. 

“Our son,” he repeated, like he was savouring the words. 

“Mhmm…” You nodded, slightly. Just for him to feel the movement face to face, skin to skin. “It was really hot, y’know? To see you like that…”

Max smirked. Eyes staying close while he listened to you.

“The way you talked about us… How you got all worked up… When you said ‘that kid is mine’?” You sighed. Loudly than you normally would. Your hands moving down to his neck, shoulders, then back to cradle his face. “And then when you stormed off… Damn you, Max.”

A low, amused chuckle escaped from his chest, his whole body shaking lightly against you. “I should’ve figured you’d like that.”

“You should, yeah…”

You leaned in, then. Your lips barely meeting his before you pulled back again.

Max reacted instantly, taking a step forward and fully pressing you onto the counter, his feet slotting between your legs. “Hate teasing,” he murmured, already crashing your mouths together for a much needier kiss. 

You smiled, his lips barely giving you any time before he was capturing them again. 

And again. 

And again. 

──────────────────

CHARLES

──────────────────

OSCAR

──────────────────

LANDO

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Lando said, leaning against the handrail and watching Olivia run around the synthetic grass of the paddock. Just like you had been doing for the past ten minutes or so. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said. “They were the ones who crossed the line.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” you said, curling your lips into a smile just in case someone was watching you. “Like I said, it wasn’t your fault. That’s not up for discussion.”

Next to you, Lando sighed. Loudly. 

You heard it, you felt it. 

His unhappiness with your answer.

So you shifted on your feet, crossed your arms on your chest, and kept your eyes ahead as you said, “You stood up for her. That’s what matters to me. I wish these things didn’t happen at all, but it’s not up to us. We can’t control what others say or do, but we can control how we react to it. And the way you reacted… That’s how I want it to be. So as long as you stand up for her, just like you did today, then you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

For a moment, Lando didn’t talk. Didn’t move. Didn’t react. He just stared ahead, focusing on the little girl that had everyone’s attention as she distributed papaya-unicorn stickers all around. And then, when you thought he would finally speak up, he just coughed and looked away. As if taking a break to organize himself before returning his gaze back to her. 

To your daughter. 

Yours, and his. 

“Should we go inside?” you asked. “Talk inside?”

He shook his head. “She’s having fun… I just… I wanna watch her for a while.”

You nodded, but your heart skipped at that, and you couldn’t help but sigh and take a step closer to him. Unwillingly. Without thinking. 

Elbow almost, almost touching his arm. 

Lando’s whole body stiffened. 

He stretched his legs, straightened his back, and pulled his arms closer to his sides. 

And the tiniest gasp left his mouth. 

Once again, you couldn’t help yourself—you snorted, bringing your hand to cover your mouth and lowering your chin to look down at your feet.

“What?” he asked, quietly. But you could hear the smile in his voice. The amusement. Growing just like yours.

“Shut up,” you said, muffled behind your hand. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

Shaking your head, you held back your laughter and looked up, eyes meeting your oblivious daughter. Happy and full of energy amidst so many strangers. 

You dropped your hand back down to cross your arm around your chest, and after a beat, you murmured, “I can already imagine a video going viral…”

You caught the way he nodded. 

Neither of you ever facing each other.

But keeping the conversation for only the two of you to hear. 

“Lando Norris avoids contact with his girlfriend,” he said. 

And then, you cackled. Dropping your head back and laughing to the sky while bringing both hands to cover your mouth. 

Next to you, Lando chuckled as well, albeit not as hard. The soft sound making its way to you and adding extra warmth to your already heated cheeks. 

He waited until you had calmed down before speaking again, the playfulness hinted in each syllable of each word. “Little do they know… All along, I’m the one who’s been deprived of love.”

“Oh my God,” you grunted and laughed. A mix between disbelief, but also joy. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“Dramatic? Please. I’m just a boy… Standing next to a—”

You gasped and turned your body, leaning onto your side so you could face him. 

“—a girl… Asking her to hold my hand.”

“Lando…”

“Or give me a hug.”

“You do not get to quote my favorite movie back at me.”

He shook his head, eyes still fixed ahead of him. “Just anything,  really.” 

You pressed your lips together and turned back to Olivia, a sigh leaving your chest while you watched her engage in a conversation with some other kids she had met earlier that day. 

“You know that’s not how it works.”

Lando, on the other hand, simply smirked to himself.

“What I know is that you won’t love me in public.” 

“Because you get way too handsy!” you reminded him. “And you don’t know how to kiss me in public. You always end up going for a full make out session. Why is it so hard to keep it simple?”

“Because it’s you!” he laughed. “Can’t help it if you’re irresistible!”

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged. “If you can’t help it, then we stick to my rules.” 

“Fine.” 

“No PDA.”

“I know.”

“That’s all.”

“Yep.”

You sighed. 

He sighed. 

Max and Pietra stepped out of hospitality, both of them stopping to chat with Olivia before she pointed straight at where you were. Lando’s best friend looked at you and nodded with understanding, meanwhile his girlfriend waved and lowered her weight to get Livie’s attention. 

You knew, from that on, that Max and Pietra would keep an eye on her. That they would stay around and give you two a chance to take a little break, like they usually did. 

“I never thought I could get so mad at someone,” Lando blurted out. So out of nowhere that you needed to blink a couple times to make sense of it. “I’m watching her right now and it’s just… Look at her… She’s the cutest child around here… She’s kind to everyone… Makes everyone laugh… Always has the funniest, most random comments… And she’s so sassy and bold in such an adorable way… She’s just perfect. How can they… I mean how can they even ask something like that? I don’t get it.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you found yourself unable to reply.

“I meant what I said, y’know? About being proud of being her dad… I know it’s not on the paper… But I don’t mind that… Like it won’t make me love her any differently… What we have now it’s something I’ve earned, y’know? We’ve built it from scratch… I know you wouldn’t have allowed me to be here if you didn’t mean it… So I just… I can’t imagine my life without you anymore… Both of you. And I hate that they tried to use that against me… Because they knew what they were doing when they asked that… They knew they would touch a nerve…”

The emotions in his voice touched your nerves, your instincts, your need to protect him and stand up for him. And before you knew it, you were already walking. Already stepping away from the handrail, turning to him and closing the distance. Until you were standing in front of him and then close enough to crush your body to his. Wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek against his chest. 

“Whoa…” Lando stumbled the slightest, the handrail keeping him in place as he placed both arms around your shoulders and kept you close. Close. Close. Close. “Hold on with the PDA, love.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled. “Just take it.”

At that, he chuckled. Chin pressed on your temple and arms squeezing you tightly. 

“Your favorite words.”

“Lando!”

“What?!”

You pinched his hip, and he flinched.

“Heyyy!” he laughed.

You smiled, cheek all nuzzled onto him while the world kept moving around you. While the public walked up and down the paddock. While curious eyes and intruding cameras watched you. 

“I love you,” you said. “And I’m so proud of you. Really. Thank you, for everything you do. For who you are. I can’t imagine our lives without you anymore, too. I don’t want to know what it would be like to go back to a life without you. So again, thank you.”

“Who are you and what—”

“Lando!” 

“Ok, ok,” he laughed. “I’m shy, I get nervous…” 

“I know, but I had to say it.”

He shifted his arms, his hug getting both gentler and tighter at the same time. 

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear. “And I can’t wait to show you how much. But Livie is running up to us right now, so I’ll keep it to myself for now… Just for now.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

──────────────────

[angrythingstarlight]

On TikTok I saw a comment where a woman said that she told her husband to pretend to be unconscious so he was dead weight to see if she could drag him out of the house in case of fire or emergency, she couldn’t even pull him off the bed and she cried so he had comfort her while dying laughing😭😭😂 reminded me of something biker Bucky and Gorgeous would do

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

A/N: Written on my phone, unbetad.

Bucky groans dramatically. "You might as well just leave me here and save yourself Gorgeous."

You keep pulling him with all your strength but he barely budges an inch. You might be able to move him if he'd stop talking.

He doesn't.

"Bury me with my bike." Bucky cracks open an eye, his lips twitching. "And a pair of your panties."

"I'm not doing that." A laugh spills past your lips before you can stop it.

You can't concentrate with him cracking jokes like this. Yeah that's the reason you're struggling to move this six foot something man. It's all his fault.

You keep laughing but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. "Matter fact, line my casket with your panties and toss in a few of those pics I have on my phone."

"Oh my god."

"I'll know if you disregarded my last wishes," he casually warns, like his massive body isn't splayed on the bedroom floor. Like he's still not budging despite the fact that you're putting your all into this.

"Shut. Up."

"Mourn me for the rest of your life," he sighs sadly, head lolling to the side. Bucky hasn't broken character once, he's fully committed to this bit. "Keep a shrine of me in our bedroom."

"Bucky I'm trying to focus," your breathless giggle lost under a grunt when you try to shove him to the side. Nothing. Damn it.

Eyeing his shirtless, tattooed body, you try new a new approach. Adjusting your grip, you hook your fingers under his upper arms. You can barely get your hands around half of his large, warm biceps. Bracing your feet on the floor, you pull so hard you feel your muscles tremble and ache. He slides up a centimeter.

"Don't even think about moving on."

"Be quiet," you start. Releasing his arms, you wince when they hit the floor with a thud. You'd have better luck moving a pile of bricks than your man. "What would you do if I did?"

You're teasing but Bucky takes you very seriously.

He doesn't play when it comes to you. Or his burial requests.

He slowly opens his eyes, his darkening gaze captures yours. "I will haunt you for the rest of your life," he states confidently. "No guy will even breathe in your direction by time I'm done with them. You're going to have a rep because of me."

There's no time to process that because his hands suddenly reach out, grabbing your ankles. You're tugged forward, turned and twisted—somehow he manages to squeeze your ass a couple of times—until you're flat on his chest, his pecs under your palms.

Bucky smiles, his hand cups the back of your head and he brings your face close to his. "If you think I'm a menace now, imagine what my ghost will be like. Just imagine what ghost me would do to you. I'd get rid of your little replacement and then you'd get all my attention. Remember ghost me isn't going to get tired."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Well maybe that could be fun. Wait.

Your eyes widen at the images his words are creating. He chuckles under his breath. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Resting your chin on his chest, you have to admit, no man would ever measure up to your bike. And if anyone could find a way to come back and haunt someone, it would be the handsome, incorrigible man under you.

"So you want all my panties or just your favorites?"

"Gorgeous. How many times do we have to go over this? All your panties are my favorite."

"Fine," you concede, failing to hold back a smile. "But you promised me a lifetime together and I'm holding you to that."

Bucky brushes his lips across yours in one sweet, sure motion. His deep voice rolls over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. "I have no intention of leaving you anytime soon. I got too many plans for you, Gorgeous."

All of his plans revolve around loving you, protecting you, being with you, caring for you any way you'll let him.

And he's going take his time getting through every last one of them.

[dykebehaviour]

more loser!ellie please 🙏🙏

taking loser!gf!ellie with you for lingerie shopping

cw: fluff, suggestive, loser lesbian!ellie, fem!reader.

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it starts with one sentence. one sentence and a perfectly timed glance over your shoulder while you’re straddling her on the couch.

“i need new lingerie.”

ellie doesn’t respond at first. she just sort of… short-circuits.

you’re wearing her hoodie - the green one with the stretched sleeves and little bleach spots on the cuff - and nothing underneath it. your thighs are bare against the scratchy fabric of her secondhand couch. your lip’s caught between your teeth. and you say it so casually, like you’re telling her you need shampoo. like you’re not already half in her lap, driving her fucking insane.

she’s holding a half-lit joint and stares at you like you’ve just told her the world’s ending.

“i’m sorry,” she says finally. “you what?”

“i need lingerie,” you say again, slowly this time, like she’s old or confused. you stretch, arms up over your head, hoodie riding even higher on your thighs. you blink down at her. “i’m low on pretty stuff.”

she blinks. once. twice. her fingers flex against your hips like she’s trying to ground herself. “isn’t all your stuff already… pretty?”

you grin. “that’s sweet. but no. i want the really pretty kind. the ridiculous kind. bows and lace and way too many straps.”

ellie’s jaw flexes. “oh.”

you let the silence stretch.

then: “you wanna come with me?”

ellie’s eyes shoot up. her whole body goes rigid, like you just asked her to go to war.

“to… to the lingerie store?”

you nod, very nonchalant. “yeah. i need a second opinion.”

“right. because i’m so… fashion-forward.”

“you are when it comes to me.”

ellie says nothing. her fingers twitch where they rest on your thighs. she’s pretending to look cool, but her mouth is slightly open and she hasn’t blinked in way too long.

you raise an eyebrow. “that a yes?”

she clears her throat. “uh. yeah. sure. i mean, yeah. i can do that. just, like… be normal. in the lingerie store. like a normal person.”

you lean in, grin widening. “you’ve never been normal, ellie.”

“yeah,” she breathes. “and it’s about to get so much worse.”

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the next day, she dresses like she’s attending your funeral.

dark jeans. beat-up converse. that ratty smashing pumpkins tee she only wears when she’s feeling brave, and a zip-up hoodie over the top. she doesn’t style her hair, just pulls it into a low bun and lets the baby curls frizz around her ears. you kiss her temple as she slouches into the passenger seat of your car, and she groans into her hands like you’ve just kissed her in front of a firing squad.

you, on the other hand, look unfairly hot.

hair pretty. lip gloss on. you even sprayed perfume - the one that makes her dizzy and stupid. you keep twirling your hair around your finger at red lights. keep crossing and uncrossing your legs like you don’t know exactly what it’s doing to her.

“please be gentle with me,” ellie mumbles as you pull into the parking garage.

“no promises.”

she groans again.

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the store is a lot.

it’s pink. everything is soft, glowing, wrapped in silk and tulle. the music is sultry - some slow, breathy remix of something you danced to at a party last summer. the mannequins are tall, leggy, headless, and intimidating. there’s a neon sign above the back wall in soft cursive that says treat yourself, baby.

ellie stares up at it like she’s witnessing a religious experience.

she mutters under her breath, “this place is terrifying.”

you loop your arm through hers and tug her deeper into the racks of lace and mesh.

“i thought you liked terrifying things,” you say.

“i do. usually. but this is… this is uncharted territory.”

you pause in front of a rack of blush-colored balconette bras and grin. “you mean you’ve never been in here before?”

ellie frowns. “i’m gay, not suicidal.”

you laugh, loud and bright, and the sound makes her smile, even if her ears are beet red.

she keeps her hands shoved in the front pocket of her hoodie. doesn’t touch anything. doesn’t even look too long at any single item, in case it kills her.

you, on the other hand, are in your element.

you move through the store like a dream, trailing your fingers over lace, pausing to hold up sheer teddies and corsets, tossing matching panties over your arm like it’s a fashion show and you’re the star. you pick up a strappy red bra and turn toward her, holding it against your chest.

“this one?” you ask.

ellie swallows. loudly. “jesus christ.”

you smirk. “so… yes?”

“yeah. definitely. that’s gonna haunt me in the best way.”

you pick up a few more pieces - pale blue, black silk, something sheer and embroidered with little moons and stars - and disappear into the dressing room with a wink.

ellie stands awkwardly outside, pretending to browse a rack of crotchless boyshorts. she checks her phone. bounces on the balls of her feet. almost asks the assistant if they have snacks, then realises that’s a completely insane thing to do in a lingerie store and shuts up.

then, your voice calls out from behind the curtain:

“babe?”

her heart stutters. “yeah?”

“can you come help me zip this?”

she drops her phone. literally drops it.

fumbles to pick it up. wipes her palms on her jeans. tries to act like her pulse isn’t pounding in her ears as she stumbles toward the back room like she’s walking toward her execution.

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the curtain slides shut behind her.

and ellie’s knees immediately go weak.

you’re standing in front of a full-length mirror in the softest, sexiest thing she’s ever seen. lavender lace. bare back. garter belt. stockings hugging your thighs. your skin glowing under the warm lights, the soft sheen of the fabric clinging to every curve like it was custom made for you.

you glance at her over your shoulder, all doe-eyed and dangerous. “can you zip it?”

ellie doesn’t answer. she just stares.

she looks like she’s in pain. mouth open. eyes wide. her gaze drags from your heels to your thighs to your hips to your back to your shoulders to your lips. she shifts on her feet like she’s trying to adjust herself without making it obvious, but you notice. of course you do.

you always do.

you smile slowly. “you okay, el?”

she clears her throat and steps forward. her hands are shaking as she reaches for the zipper. she’s so careful. touches you like you’re breakable. her fingers brush your spine and she jolts like she touched a live wire.

“i’m fine,” she lies, softly. “so fine. doing amazing. really holding it together.”

you turn to face her, and her mouth parts helplessly.

“do you like it?” you murmur.

“‘like’ is the understatement of the century,” she says. “i’m actually blacking out a little. Is that normal?”

you step closer. she doesn’t move away. she never does.

“i’ve got a few more to try,” you say. “want to help me with the rest?”

she exhales shakily. “this is a trap.”

you hum. “maybe.”

“you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“i hope so.”

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you model four more outfits.

with each one, ellie unravels a little more.

the second is all black mesh with star embroidery. the third is a deep red strappy set that leaves very, very little to the imagination. the fourth has tiny silk bows and pearl accents. the fifth, the final one, is so sheer you have to cover your nipples when you step out just to give her a chance.

she stares. frozen. absolutely wrecked.

you cross the room, slide your arms around her neck, and lean in until your lips brush her ear.

“i’m getting this one.”

she makes a noise, something breathless and desperate, and rests her forehead on your shoulder.

“you’re evil,” she whispers. “this is psychological warfare.”

you kiss her jaw. “you love it.”

“i do,” she groans. “that’s the worst part.”

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at checkout, ellie carries the bags like they’re sacred objects.

she hasn’t made eye contact with anyone in ten minutes. her ears are bright red. her face is still flushed. you hand the cashier your card and glance back at her, amused.

“you’re very quiet.”

“i’m recovering,” she mutters.

“from what?”

she glares at you, eyes glassy. “you flashed your ass at me in four different colours and then smiled like it was nothing. i saw your nipples through lace. that wasn’t just ‘nothing.’ that was a religious experience.”

you giggle and slide your arm through hers as you leave the store.

she’s still dazed when you reach the car.

you lean against the passenger door and grin. “wanna come back to mine?”

she nods immediately. “yes. oh my god. please.”

“for what?”

“closure. a cold shower. therapy. a full spiritual reset.”

you lean in, kiss her cheek, lips sticky with gloss. “i’ll wear the red one.”

she nearly walks into a parked car.

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perm taglist: @yasmilks , @natsheretic , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @pearlsiie , @aj0elap0l0gist , @sincerelyherz , @imsiriuslycool , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie <3

[lexiputellas]

The Real Victory

You’re horny. Like, dangerously horny.

Alexia is on the pitch, locked into the Champions League match against Manchester City. She lost the last game, and you know how badly she wants this one. You should be focused too. Supportive. Cheering.

But you're six months pregnant and your entire body is buzzing.

And all you can think about is her.

Not the game. Not the score.

Just her

The way her thighs flex when she sprints, thick and powerful. The way her brow furrows when she’s concentrating, that sharp little frown. The way her hands settle on her hips when something doesn’t go her way, fuck.That posture alone sends a direct electric shock to your clit, like a livewire.

It’s unbearable.

You can’t hear the crowd. You barely notice the plays. It’s just her, her, her.

“Oh, that ref is shit. He should’ve called that a foul,” Alba mutters beside you, snapping you out of your haze.

“What?” you blink.

“The ref,” she says, nodding at the pitch.

“Oh. Right. Yeah,” you say, pretending to care. She’s already turned back to the game.

But you? You’re dying.

This feeling is consuming you, melting you from the inside out. You feel like you’re going to burst. Your hands are clenched in your lap, trying to behave, but your legs keep pressing together. You're sweating under your dress, soaked through your underwear, every shift in your seat making you want to whimper.

You can't take it anymore.

You grab your phone and open Alexia’s contact, fingers trembling as you type:

— if after 30 minutes of the game you don’t fuck me and give me at least 2 orgasms i will expose you to the internet. i’m not joking. i’m feral.

You hit send.

She won’t read it now, obviously. But when she gets back to the locker room, when she finally checks her phone, you want her to know what she did to you.

You type again:

— i’m a mess. i’m so wet it’s probably running through my dress and dripping onto the fucking seats. this is 100% your fault.

You stare at the screen, your heart pounding harder than the crowd’s chants.

Final whistle.

Barça wins.

The stadium erupts. People are screaming, waving flags. Fireworks. Hugs. Applause.

You don't care.

Finale. They’re going to the goddamn finale.

And all you want is her.

All you want is home

All you want is to be touched.

You turn to Alba. “Let’s go.”

She glances at you, a little surprised. “Already?”

“Help me up.”

She does, and you wobble a bit, pregnant belly leading the way. You make your way to the VIP lounge and ask for a bottle of water. Your heart is racing like you played 90 minutes.

“You having dinner with us?” you ask Alba casually, your brain screaming please say no please say no please say no—

“I don’t think so, actually. I promised Julia I’d have dinner with her tonight. Been a while.”

YES.

“Oh, okay,” you say, masking the desperate joy clawing at your throat. “I just thought—”

“I’m sorry!” she smiles. “We can have dinner later this week.”

You nod, but your mind is elsewhere. All you can think is: Where the fuck is Alexia?

Why is she not here yet? Is she still giving interviews? Talking to people? Laughing with teammates while you’re over here throbbing?

Then, finally, she walks through the doors.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Your entire body clenches. She looks so fucking good. Post-game glow, loose ponytail, jersey stuck to her skin, thighs still tense from running. She’s flushed. Confident. Unreal.

You bite your lip. Hard. Press your thighs together again.

You love her. You hate her. You want to murder her and climb her at the same time.

“Oi, bebé,” she murmurs, kissing your cheek, arms wrapping around you.

You give her a dry peck back, but your eyes are blazing. She hugs Alba next.

“Hey, you coming to dinner?”

“Oh, can’t. Was just waiting for you to show up. I’ve got plans.”

“Okay,” Alexia nods. Alba leaves.

“Dinner out or do you want to order in?” she asks, turning to you with that too-casual tone.

“Order,” you narrow your eyes. She was really about to take you to a restaurant like she didn’t just read those texts? Is she insane?

Then again, she is insane. She's mean. She's hot. She’s yours. So so yours.

“Okay, let’s go,” she says, grabbing your purse and holding out her hand.

You walk with her, past a few teammates. She says her goodbyes. Opens the car door for you. Puts her gear in the trunk. Starts the engine.

She’s humming along to the song on the radio. Calm. Collected.

You look at her. Really look.

What kind of monster leaves their pregnant, needy, drenched wife like this?

The way her fingers grip the wheel. The muscles in her forearms. The little furrow of concentration on her brow.

It’s criminal.

“What?” she says suddenly, catching your stare.

“You’re so mean,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

“What? How am I mean?”

“You read the messages. And you chose to ignore me. You ignored your pregnant, unholy, unsatisfied wife”

“I didn’t ignore you,” she smirks. “I just wanted to see when you’d break.”

“When I’d— WHAT KIND OF MONSTER SAYS THAT? I hate you!” you yell, dramatic and breathless.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do! I hate you so much!”

She looks at you sideways, eyes dark and smug, and then slowly lets one hand slide off the wheel, straight to your thigh.

You gasp.

Her fingers press into your skin, spreading a little warmth, a little promise.

“You don’t hate me,” she says, low and certain.

And god help you, she’s right.

Her hand stays there hot, firm, steady on your thigh. Not moving. Just existing. Like a warning. Like a fucking claim.

And you're trembling.

“You don't hate me,” she says again, softer this time, almost teasing, like she already knows you're seconds from falling apart. “You’re just mad I made you wait.”

You twist toward her in your seat, glaring. “I wasn’t mad. I was dying. There’s a difference. You left me like that for ninety minutes. In public.”

“In a stadium,” she corrects, her thumb now rubbing slow, maddening circles over your skin. “While my team fought for the Champions League.”

“I fought for my life. ”

She laughs, actually laughs, and you nearly claw at her. “You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” you nearly shriek. “I threatened you. I explicitly said two orgasms and you acted like I said two cappuccinos,”

“I saw that,” she says, grinning wider. “And the one after. The part about your dress. And the seats.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“And?” you snap, voice shaky.

She hums, dragging the tip of her fingernail up and down your thigh now. You shiver. “And I guess we’ll see if you were exaggerating.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I hope not.”

You make a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a growl. Your hands are fisted in your lap again, trying not to beg her in traffic.

The city blurs outside the window, but all you see is her profile, focused, gorgeous, unfazed. Your whole body is throbbing and she’s just…driving. Calmly. Like you’re not about to crawl into her lap.

You glance down at her hand on your leg. Her thumb is drifting closer to the inside of your thigh now. Dangerous territory. Too close. You spread your legs slightly without thinking.

She doesn’t say anything. Just flicks her eyes toward you with a slow smirk.

You clench your fists tighter.

“You’re a menace,” you mutter.

“You married me.”

“I was tricked.”

She chuckles again, completely in control, and your pulse is in your ears. She's wearing that smug, satisfied post-match look, jersey still sticking to her skin, and all you can think about is how much you need her on you, in you, now now now.

“Alexia,” you whisper, desperate.

She exhales through her nose, leans forward to turn down the music, then returns her hand to your thighs, this time higher, much higher.

“Shhh, bebé. Almost home.”

Your hips twitch toward her.

“No, not shhh. I’m going to die,” you say breathlessly. “You’re going to have to explain to the paramedics that you edged your pregnant wife into a cardiac event.”

She grins. “I’ll just say it was hormones.”

You whimper. Actually whimper.

“You’re evil.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she says, but her voice is lower now, quieter, slipping into that tone you know means trouble.

Then she turns onto your street.

Your breathing stutters.

You’re seconds away from sobbing, from tearing the fabric of your dress apart, from climbing her while the engine’s still on. She parks the car and the moment it clicks into place, you undo your seatbelt and twist to her.

She hasn’t even opened her door yet.

You lean toward her, breath warm, hands shaking.

“I swear to God,” you whisper, “if you make me wait one more second,”

But she’s already moving. Turning to you. Hand slipping behind your neck and pulling you in for a deep, hot kiss. It hits you like fireneedy, claiming, hungry. Her tongue sweeps over yours and her fingers dig into your skin and just like that, you’re gone.

Your moan gets swallowed in her mouth.

She reaches down, pulls the lever, and shoves the driver’s seat all the way back.

Your breath catches.

“Come here,” she says, low.

“What?”

“You heard me. Come here.”

You scramble over the center console, breathless, messy, belly in the way, everything awkward and unhinged. But she helps you, strong arms around you, guiding you to straddle her lap. Her hands slide under your thighs, lifting you so you’re not too heavy, easing you down until you're sitting right against her.

The moment you're seated, your soaked center pressed against the firm muscle of her thigh, your arms around her neck, she kisses you.

Hard.

Messy.

Open-mouthed and fucking relentless.

You moan into her, rocking instinctively, already rolling your hips against her. Her hands slip up under your dress, grabbing the back of your thighs, your ass, your hips, tugging you closer until you're gasping into her mouth.

“Ale, fuck, I’m gonna explode”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, lips wet, eyes glassy.

Her hand slides between your legs. Straight under your underwear.

And when she feels how wet you are?

Her jaw clenches.

“You’re soaked.”

“I told you,” you gasp.

“Sit up,” she orders, and you barely register what she’s doing before she slides her fingers inside: slow, deep, no warning.

Your whole body jerks.

“FUCK”

Her other hand grips your hip, grounding you, holding you in place.

“You gonna ride me like you threatened to?” she breathes into your neck. “Or do I have to make you beg for it?”

You’re already moving. Hips grinding down, your belly tight against her chest, your thighs trembling with the effort.

“God, yes, yes, please, Alexia”

“You’re so desperate,” she whispers. “So messy. You wanted to come in my car so bad? Do it.”

Her fingers are already soaked, dripping, knuckles buried in your cunt as you grind against her like you’ve forgotten how to breathe. She’s letting you do the work, just watching, controlling the rhythm with the slow flex of her hand.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” she mutters, voice low, forehead pressed to yours. “Dripping all over me. Can you feel how wet you are?“

Your jaw drops. You moan, raw, desperate and she doesn't give you space to recover.

Her fingers curl inside you, deep and mean, rubbing against that swollen, electric spot that sends sparks flying up your spine. Her palm drags hard over your clit. Again and again and again.

You fall apart.

Your back arches, your belly tight and shaking, and then your cunt clenches down so hard on her fingers it hurts. You don’t just moan, you wail, the sound tearing from your throat like a sob. Your head tips back, body locking, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

She’s right there, whispering filth into your skin.

“That's it. Give it to me, bebé. Let me feel it. Let me feel all of it.”

You try to breathe, but your lungs won’t work. Your whole body is twitching, seized by the orgasm, soaking her wrist, her palm, the fucking seat. You’re gushing, crying, shaking in her lap like your body’s been possessed.

She holds you there through it gripping your ass with one hand, still inside you with the other, riding it out until you're limp and clinging to her.

When you finally collapse forward, she’s panting against your ear, voice rough with praise.

“Good girl,” she whispers. “You came so hard for me. Fuck.”

Your whole body buzzes. You’re not sure if you’re still crying or just breathless, but her jersey is wet with sweat, and your thighs are shaking.

“That’s one,” she says, slowly pulling her fingers out, wet, slick, obscene. She lifts them to her mouth and licks them clean while you just stare, wrecked and speechless.

Then, with a grin that’s all teeth:

“You still owe me another.”

“And I haven’t even ripped your fucking dress yet.”

[pomegranate-eater]

cw: yandere, forced relationship, reader is pressured into kissing Phainon’s cheek to erase another person’s lips from his skin.

“I demand one more,” Phainon says with his hand on your hip, tapping his foot with agitation. You squirm as he readjusts you on his lap so the side of his head rests against yours, before his reverent yet shaky hands move to trace circles on your lower back.

“… One more?” You don’t want to have your echo confirmed if the bits of exhaustion are tearing their way into your voice.

The late evening is begging you to rest and yet this is still not the moment for the end of your torment. You’ve given him a bountiful of affectionate cheek smothering by now — if you can call the lip jabs you forced yourself to muster as such — and now he wants one more kiss… predicted by you to not be the actual postlude yet.

Your predicament is because of one, more vivacious woman that kissed his right cheek in the gratitude for his help with something in the earlier hour. The gesture had no romantic affiliations, only conveyed a polite affection for his kindness.

However, when Phainon has returned home after managing his duties in the unreachable for you outside, his agitated state painted the illusion of the event being much more tragic. You were subjected to watching him wipe his face with the sleeve to the point it was red from from the friction, next washing his face, until he dragged you to the chair to sit down with him and began urging you to smooch his face over and over, self-aware you wouldn’t want to watch him lose his mind whole night.

When he hastily explained the situation to you and asked for your forgiveness as if he cheated, sprinkled with some anger at the woman, you understood just one thing really — he believes you to be the only one who could kiss him, as only you are his devotion’s beloved. You’ve been finding him quite irrational, if he is panicking over something out of his control, and definitely not something you’re mad about.

Now in the present, he remains being clearly more offended and worried than you, the unwilling (and currently annoyed) participant in this relationship, are. “Yes. I can still feel her lips on my skin, and I don’t want you to think that I—” he self-deprecates to the point his arms over you squeeze.

You immediately cut off his frantic train of thought. “Phainon, her mouth has been eradicated at this point, I’m sure. All you can do is wait for your skin to begin a new cycle if you think she sunk deeper,” you say dryly, accidentally mocking him a little. Since you're sitting sideways on his lap, you peel your head away from his and straighten your left side, swallowed by his chest, so you can properly peer at him while continuing to talk. “Not to mention, that kiss wasn’t to steal your heart.”

You don’t care about this one stupid event, thinking he’s overreacting — that’s the singular reason why you could say you’re disappointed. Not only you’d gladly give him away to that woman, you also are sure he’s only going to hype himself with even more paranoia if you let it roll.

He seemingly doesn’t appreciate your lack of sympathy or understanding, not with the way his brows scrunch together and his lips purse, almost hurt by your frigid insight. He wanted you to be more possessive too so you could prove you recognize him as your lover; however, your apparent lack of being shaken by this ‘disloyalty’ is soothing in itself.

“I understand how counterproductive this is, and I’m glad you’re not feeling threatened by her, yet… could you please grant me this last one erasure? I promise, no more kisses after, and if I lie, you can slap me,” he pleads with desperation, gliding his hands over from your hips level to your waist. You click your tongue when you feel his leg impatiently jump from below your bottom.

You huff at his rather maniacal theatrics and look at his face that’s red from both blush and irritation. “I don’t believe you. I don’t think a slap would have stopped you.” He’d take more kisses even if he’d have to be slapped each time, you’re pretty sure about that — he would take anything from the person who refuses to touch him willingly.

“Oh, I beseech you to not be so pessimistic. I promise, I swear, I’ll let you be afterwards,” he smiles and speaks softly, but with his anxiety, the smile is crooked into an uncanny illusion. His face inches closer to yours and you shiver with disgust at his hot breath and clear excitement.

You foresee you won’t be getting any sleep if you won’t choose to cooperate — he’ll just keep nagging you until he wears you down into submission completely. Begrudgingly, you finally land your lips on his right cheek, and he doesn’t break his promise, as it’s really only one more…

…Except, his palms crush your side and head against him, forcing your plushiness to linger in the awful action of it marking him on his stained skin, as he soaks in your lips’ size, warmth, and texture. The labored exhale of contentment lands on your neck and grazes it unpleasantly.

Naturally, you struggle; you try to push him away with muffled screams against his cheek, your legs dangling off of his left side kicking. Yet, the man dazed by your closeness, only uses his mind to paint the image of some nasty and oozing scar slowly disappearing under your kiss.

This unfortunate incident lasts good fifteen seconds and ends only when he realizes he might have overdone his fixing, based upon the wetness on his face manifesting the beginning of your tears. He lets his arms leave you and wipes the moistness staining the softness of his precious birdie.

“Please, forgive me. I went ahead of myself,” while gentle, he doesn’t sound apologetic much. He senses his mind is cleared now, and it is his turn to kiss your cheek in poor attempt of soothing you, shushing and rocking you at that. The flinch you give him when you feel the intrusive lips is something he’s used by now, so once he’s done, he doesn’t question it.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. As his chest shrinks from the relieved breath and he looks pretty again with a happy smile, he helps you up on your feet and guides you to your shared room for rest.

Phainon simply couldn’t have helped himself. The idea of someone else touching him so intimately feels forbidden, because even if you didn’t ask for it, he is inclined to be yours only.

That’s just devotion, isn’t it?

It’s only a matter of time and opening your eyes until he gains your approval, even if the latter has to come forcefully.

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, creampie, chan is a wee bit manipulative, mdni

notes: im currently out of the country so this is a queued post I had pre-written to keep you hoes guys well fed 😇 can't wait to read what you guys think when i get back <3

You were just trying to get work done.

Really. The spreadsheet is still open on your screen, cursor blinking accusingly from where you left it. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, your eyes blurry from staring too long, but still—you’re trying.

Chan is the one who’s not letting you.

“Just the tip,” he whispers again, soft and sinful in your ear, voice cracking like he means it. Like it’s not the third time he’s said it in the last two minutes. His hands are already under your hoodie, thumbs sliding across the swell of your hips, coaxing you back into his lap even as you lean forward to type.

“Chan,” you sigh, warning in your voice.

“I won’t even move, baby. Just let me feel you,” he breathes, cock straining against his briefs beneath you. “I just need it for a second, that’s all. You can keep working—I'll be quiet, promise.”

You glance over your shoulder. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, cheeks pink. He’s already flushed like he’s inside you. Like this whole thing isn’t absolutely deranged.

You’re still in his lap. You should’ve never sat down there in the first place, but he’d looked so sweet. All pouty and clingy and pathetic, murmuring “don’t wanna be away from you,” pulling you down with him on the chair like you weren’t busy.

Now his hands are splayed across your thighs, warm and firm, shifting you just enough that you can feel the outline of him, thick and ready and twitching.

“Chan, I have three reports due tonight—”

“And I’ll help,” he interrupts, kissing the back of your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Just lemme slip in a little. Just the tip, baby. Just want to warm up in you while you work—feels good for both of us, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes at your laptop, like it’ll give you strength. But your traitorous body is already pressing back into him, pulse fluttering low.

He feels it.

“See? Your body wants it too,” he whispers, voice cracking into a whine. “So warm for me already, baby. Don’t be mean.”

You feel him shift beneath you, one hand slipping between your thighs now, fingers curling over your waistband and tugging slow—so slow it makes you shiver. He’s savoring it, like dragging it out will make you beg instead. Like he’s waiting for that last thread of resistance to snap.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, kissing just behind your ear. “Let me in. Just a little. Just to take the edge off.”

You lift your hips without meaning to.

It’s instinct. That’s all. Instinct and exhaustion and the heat of his breath behind your ear. You don’t even look at him as you help shimmy your shorts and underwear down to your knees, keeping your eyes on the screen like that’ll anchor you.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes.

And then he’s there—pressing the thick head of his cock between your folds, guiding it with a shaky hand. He groans the second he feels how wet you are, lets out the softest “shit,” and you feel the tremble in his thighs as he drags the tip through your slick again and again.

You should stop him. You don’t.

He notches himself at your entrance, breathing through his nose like he’s trying to behave.

Then slowly—slowly—he sinks the tip inside you.

Your hands curl into fists on your thighs.

“You okay?” he asks, already breathless.

You nod, just once. Not trusting your voice.

“Good,” he pants, lips brushing your nape. “Good girl. Just like that. Just the tip. Just the—”

He pushes deeper.

“—fucking tip, baby, shit—”

He doesn’t bottom out.

He could. He’s close—closer than he said he’d be. But he stops, hips twitching, breath caught in his throat like it physically hurts him to hold back.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, rocking his hips just enough to press deeper into your heat, but not enough to give you relief. “So warm, so fucking wet. You’re dripping all over me, baby.”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but his hand slides between your thighs before you can speak. His fingers come back soaked.

“Look at this,” he murmurs, holding them up, then licking them clean. “You sure you don’t want it?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your eyes flick back to your laptop screen—numbers blurring, words meaningless. Your body is hot, trembling, strung out on the edge of something you don’t want to name. You should tell him to stop.

You don’t.

“I could make you feel so good,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “So good you’d forget your deadlines. Forget your name. You’d let me fuck you right here in this chair and you’d still thank me for it.”

You clench around him, involuntary.

He laughs, soft and breathless. The sound curls straight into your gut.

“You feel that?” he asks, nuzzling behind your ear again. “Your pussy knows what you want even if you won’t say it. She’s so honest. She wants me.”

You press your lips together to keep from moaning.

He feels it—of course he does. He’s tuned to every twitch, every breath, every little squeeze of your body around him. And right now, you’re holding onto restraint by a thread, and he’s sawing through it with every word out of his mouth.

“She’s being so good for me,” he murmurs, one hand drifting back between your legs to stroke where he’s barely inside you. “So soft, so greedy. Just keeps pulling me in, baby.”

You grab the edge of the desk like it’ll help you hold yourself together. It doesn’t.

“She wants more,” he continues, the tease thick in his voice now. “I bet you do too. You want it, don’t you? Want me to fill you up, fuck you dumb, keep you nice and stuffed while you try to finish your little reports—”

“Christopher—”

His name breaks in your throat, barely a breath, but it makes his whole body shudder.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, like you just said something filthy. “Say it again.”

You don’t. You can’t. Your lips part, but nothing comes out, and he takes that as its own kind of answer.

He noses along your jaw, voice a cracked whisper. “You know what that does to me. You say my name like that and expect me to just sit still?”

He rocks his hips—again, shallow. Controlled. But deeper this time. Enough to make you gasp. Enough to knock the breath from your lungs when he sinks just a little more inside.

“Fuck—look at you,” he whispers, holding you tight as you writhe in his lap. “You’re taking me so good, baby. Didn’t even need prep. Didn’t need to be told. Just opened right up like you were waiting for me.”

You shake your head, weak. “You said—just the tip—”

He hums, low and teasing. “I said that. But you didn’t say no when I gave you more.”

You don’t respond.

“Didn’t stop me,” he murmurs, breath warm against your cheek. “Didn’t push me away. You’re still letting me fuck myself in, baby. You know it's yours, baby .”

His voice is wrecked now, slurred with need, but still so tender. So sweet it makes your throat tighten. His cock pushes deeper like he’s punctuating the words—inch by inch, careful and slow, dragging it out like he wants to feel every trembling second of you giving in.

“And you’re mine,” he whispers. “All mine, aren’t you?”

You nod. Barely. But it’s enough. You hear the way his breath catches in his throat, feel the way his arms tighten around your waist like he needs to hold you to keep from falling apart.

“Fuck, I love you like this,” he groans, forehead pressed to your temple. “So pliant. So sweet for me. Just letting me take whatever I want.”

Another thrust, deeper. His cock finally, fully sheathed inside you.

Your breath stutters. Your body seizes around him.

And he moans, low and ragged and grateful.

“God—baby—look at that. Took all of me, didn’t you?” he murmurs, hips barely moving now, just enough to let you feel the stretch, the weight of him. “Knew you would. Knew this tight little cunt missed me.”

You gasp, jaw slack, spine curving back against him.

He laughs softly, mouth against your skin. “Yeah. That’s it. You can pretend you didn’t want it. But look at you now.”

He rocks up once—slow and deep—and it’s too much. You cry out, sharp and quiet, and his hand immediately comes up to cover your mouth.

“Shh, shh—baby,” he soothes. “You said you had work to do, remember?”

You nod against his palm, eyes fluttering, mouth parted around gasps you can’t even hear over your heartbeat.

“Then be a good girl,” he whispers, voice like silk soaked in sin. “Keep working.”

His hand drops from your mouth, slides down to your thigh as he rocks into you again—slow, syrup-thick thrusts that force soft whines out of you with every drag.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs. “Hands on the keyboard. Don’t make me ask again.”

You blink at the screen, vision blurry, legs trembling where they straddle his. The spreadsheet is still open. The cursor still blinking. You could type something. You could pretend.

That’s what he wants, after all.

Just pretend.

You bring your hands up, fingers shaking as you rest them over the keys. You press a few—nonsense inputs—like that’ll satisfy him. Like it’s not so obvious how far gone you are..

“Good girl,” he says, hips snapping up once—sharp and precise. “That’s it. Keep typing while I fuck you full.”

Your fingers stutter over the keys—random characters stringing out across the screen in some hopeless imitation of productivity.

It doesn’t matter. Not to him. Not to you.

Not when he’s buried to the hilt inside you, cock dragging deep and slow with every calculated thrust. Not when every word he says drips honey and sin into your ears.

“Such a pretty little worker,” he groans, mouth brushing your temple. “Look at you. Taking my cock like you were made for it, still trying to do your job.”

He presses a kiss there, tender, like he isn’t actively wrecking you from the inside out.

Your legs tremble again. Your hands slip off the keyboard for a moment and he catches your wrist, brings it back into place.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs. “No slacking.”

He thrusts deeper, harder, and the gasp you let out nearly knocks your laptop off the desk.

You can’t feel your fingers anymore. Can’t see the screen. The spreadsheet is a blur of black and white and nothing.

But he’s everything.

The way his voice wraps around you like velvet. The way his cock drags through your soaked heat, claiming every inch like he was built to be there. The way his breath stutters when your walls flutter around him, like he’s surprised you still want him after everything.

“Gonna come for me again?” he pants, voice ragged. “Look at you—so fucking perfect. So wrecked and still letting me use you. You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you, baby?”

You nod. You don’t even try to speak.

Because he’s right. He’s always right when it comes to your body. Your reactions. Your limits. He reads them like scripture, responds to them like worship.

His hand finds your clit again, and this time, he doesn’t play. No teasing. No mercy.

Just pressure. Rhythm. Just enough.

Your body tenses instantly, the tight coil in your gut snapping before you even realize what’s happening. The orgasm hits hard, violent in how it grips you. You whimper, legs buckling, forehead pressed to your forearm on the desk.

And Chan—he doesn’t stop.

Not yet.

He fucks you through it, holds you tight as your cunt spasms around him, praises spilling from his lips in a broken rush.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. So good for me. So perfect. Letting me fuck you stupid while you’re working—fuck—you're so fucking sexy—”

His voice cracks on the last word, like he’s overwhelmed by his own need, like even he can’t believe how far gone you’ve made him. His thrusts stutter, his hands gripping your hips too tight to be gentle—but even now, there’s love in every filthy word that spills from his mouth.

“I can’t—fuck, baby—I’m gonna come—”

And you just nod, barely able to breathe, still shaking from your own release, still dripping with him, stretched and full and ruined.

“I need it,” he groans. “Need to come inside you again, baby, please—wanna fill you up, wanna make you mine—”

You don’t even need to say yes. Your body says it for you, clenching tight around him, pulling him deeper, and that’s it.

He breaks.

“Fuckfuckfuck—baby—god—”

He spills into you with a desperate cry, hips jerking up into yours as his orgasm tears through him like a storm. He holds you there, flush against him, trembling beneath your weight as his cock throbs deep inside.

And then—

Stillness.

Silence, except for the sound of your breathing, ragged and uneven, and his heart pounding against your back like a war drum.

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t even let go.

He just wraps his arms around your middle and buries his face in your neck, breath hot and shaky against your skin.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “You’re unreal.”

You laugh—barely. More like a broken breath through your nose. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Worth it,” he murmurs, smiling into your shoulder. “Die full.”

You snort, weakly. “Shut up.”

He kisses your neck, then your jaw, then the space just behind your ear that makes you shiver again. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll get you cleaned up in a second,” he promises, voice already softening with aftercare. “But right now…” He lets out a content sigh, arms tightening around your waist. “I just wanna hold you.”

You hum and let yourself sink into him, hips still nestled against his, cock still buried inside you, warmth still spreading between your thighs.

He strokes your hair, pressing another kiss to your temple.

Then—after a long pause—he peeks over your shoulder at the screen.

“…You didn’t finish the report,” he says solemnly.

You groan, letting your head drop forward onto your arms. “You think?”

He chuckles. “If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll type the rest for you.”

You turn just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. “With what energy?”

He grins, all smug and sweet and way too pleased with himself. “Fair point.”

[mononijikayu]

thinking about how ryomen sukuna husband, marin the dog's dad, national athelete, pro-volleyball player is now stuck in this conundrum of a situation.

if he was being honest, he didn't even know how the national japanese team social media manager got him to do this. maybe it was because they bribed him with his favorite protein shake. maybe it was because they promised to stop bugging him.

but if he admit that they were the things that got him, it would be a lie. no, it was all the hd pictures of you from all the previous games these past season.

he didn't know they had existed since now. but because they had them, he had to get it. he had to get those really pretty pictures of you and keep it for only him.

ryomen sukuna was already regretting saying yes to the lie detector segment. he’d done interviews before for everything and not once has he ever been nervous.

after games, in locker rooms, on buses that smelled like sweat and glory. even when he was exhausted and ragged in the bones and just wanted to go home and sleep hugging you, he'd do it. even if it was a hassle.

but this situation was different. he was terrified. why shouldn't he be terrified? this was a whole different thing and people just knew it. everything about this was not something he was used to.

this was wires, blinking lights, a host who smiled like he knew too much, and a chair that felt suspiciously like it belonged in an interrogation room.

still, he looked good and cool.

sleeves rolled just enough.

the usual cocky slouch.

he had to fake it till he made it.

“all set?” the the social media manager asked, grinning.

sukuna shrugged. “unless this thing shocks me when i lie, yeah.”

they started easy. and he liked that. is your hair naturally pink? no. (duh.) do you think you’re the best player on the national team? yes. (double duh.)

each answer got a soft, obedient beep. truth. he was cruising. smooth. untouchable. until the host pulled a new card. this one looked different. evil, even. ryomen sukuna could sense it. he could feel it in his bones.

“sukuna-san, here's your next question.” the social media manager said slowly, way too pleased with himself, “is it true that when you were newly eighteen, you and your now-wife, [name]-san, had a pregnancy scare… and her dad almost murdered you for it?”

sukuna blinked. once. twice. “…i’m sorry. what?”

someone behind the camera snorted. sukuna’s eyes narrowed. and then, he heard it. he could feel his eye twitch all the sudden. your laugh. soft, familiar, and 100% guilty.

his jaw dropped. “oh my god. you’re here.”

you didn’t even try to deny it at all. i mean, this was the first time in a long while you'd gotten to be ridiculous. especially now that you've come back to work and had your hectic schedule again.

you always took the opportunity when it was offered. so, you sat somewhere off to the side and let yourself be silly. you laughed once again when you heard him curse.

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “you really sent that in? seriously?”

the host was trying very hard not to lose it.

“answer the question, sukuna-san!"

he sighed. long-suffering. dramatic.

“…fine. yeah. it’s true.”

beep. truth.

and just like that, the flashback hit him like a football to the face. it happend when you were teenagers, last year of high school. nothing even happened back then. it was just hanging out most of the time.

well, there was the occassional making out. but even when it went somewhere, you both stopped. and even when you wanted to, sukuna was the one to stop it all.

after all, he didn't want to ruin your future. you wanted to be an astrophysicist. you had a dream and he wanted you to focus on that. as much as he focused on volleyball.

so that day, it was all too different. and he could feel it in the air. you were on his massive bed, staring at your phone like it owed you an explanation.

sukuna walked in, unwrapping a sandwich, and you just… said it. “my love, i’m ten days late.”

he dropped the sandwich. “what do you mean, ten days late?”

“i mean what i said, my love. i'm late.” you said calmly, yawning in between. “ten. days. late. no period. no signs. my uterus is a cryptid.”

sukuna looked like he aged ten years on the spot. "w-what do you mean? w-we.... we didn't do anything just yet—"

"well i'm not sure!" you whispered to him. "i mean, when on my birthday, we both went and drank together quite a bit and—"

"yeah but i don't remember anything happening!" he says, choking as his red turned flushed. he stops and then his eyes go wide. "wait....i blacked out right?"

"yeah and maybe......" you hide your face in your hands, feeling like you were going to cry.

“okay. okay. don’t panic.” he said, immediately panicking. “we’ll go to a clinic. or a pharmacy. or maybe time travel. can we still time travel?”

you were surprisingly calm, at least from the standards usually had on pregnancy reactions. ryomen sukuna, on the other hand, looked like he was about to faint at the mere thought of diapers and daycare. but the worst part wasn’t the scare.

it was doing the impossible. it was telling your dad about everything. your ex-military, early-rising,suspicious-of-every-boy-on-earth dad, without him getting mad.

you told him while your poor unfortunate boyfriend was in the house. well, he thought that it was appropriate. even if he was shitting himself.

he was sitting politely in the living room with a mug of tea when you broke the news. your dad turned and just stared at sukuna. no yelling. no questions.

just pure, soul-piercing silence. for five whole minutes. ryomen sukuna sat frozen, gripping the mug like it was a grenade. it might be one of the worst days of his life.

you tried to ease the tension. “it’s probably just stress! we’re being responsible! we’re not even sure—”

your dad stood up. slowly. like an ancient god rising to smite. sukuna stood too. immediately. like his legs were possessed. your boyfriend, the former troublemaker and fist slammer, looked scared for the first time in his life.

“s-sir, respectfully, we're not....we're not even sure.” he blurted, voice cracking, “but i can swear to you that i respect your daughter. i-i swear....i'm going to take responsibility."

you covered your face all througout. ryomen sukuna, like years before, started mumbling about how from the very beginning, he's willing to stand up for you and be a father if you were pregnant. it was quite a thing.

in the end, you had nothing to worry about. after you took multiple tests, you were not pregnant. and a few days later, sukuna remembered what happened (likely out of fear of your father) and told you that you did not in fact make love.

back in the studio, ryomen sukuna shook his head like he was still recovering. he sighed as he looked at you. you were smiling at him giving him a thumbs up.

“i had nightmares about that stare for months!” he said. “every time her dad looked at me when i came by the house, i thought he was imagining my funeral arrangements.”

you laughed again off-camera, totally unapologetic. you were really lucky you were cute. he really couldn't get mad. not at you. not even once. he purses his lips.

“and the kicker?” sukuna said, leaning forward with a dry laugh. “she wasn’t even pregnant! just exam week stress. i almost died for nothing.”

he pointed toward where you were standing. “you’re evil.”

beep. truth.

a little while later, ryomen sukuna did get the hd pictures of you in a real big envelope. later, it was added to the pictures of you in his office. and all of that made him sigh, more fondly than ever before. life was good.

"i wonder what it would look like...." he mused to himself. "when we have kids too....."

"my love, dinner's ready!"

he smiles. "i'm coming!"

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ backstage bliss ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous ˚₊ ⊹

ft. mira x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ mira wants to thank you for all of your hard work and make up for the stress she’s caused you before the show ┊1.2k words

contains: smut!! dom mira & sub reader┊backstage sex, receiving oral, established secret relationship

➤ author's note: she’s so hot omfg i love stone top femmes 

“come on, bobby! they’re going to show up soon, they always do, even if it’s last minute— stop stressing out so much, you’re going to start balding at this rate!”

despite your attempt at assuring him, you were starting to fear for your own hair at this rate. the fans were calling out for their idols, waving around their lightsticks, and becoming increasingly impatient by the second as the trio were late by a whopping four minutes. you would hate to disappoint them by sending them home without the wonderful experience of a huntrix concert, and you would hate even more to do all of the tedious work to ensure that everyone in the venue got their money back as well as a small piece of merch to make up for their troubles. your superior was calling them frantically to ask where the hell they were, and you were just mentally preparing yourself to step out and break the bad news to them.

just then, as if they were angels answering your prayers, they all fell from the skies like shooting stars and crashed onto the stage in an elegant manner, jumping straight into the performance seamlessly and saving the day. you would say you didn’t doubt them for a moment because you certainly did, but you felt like you were going to faint from relief. 

of course, you couldn’t just yet because you wanted to see your lovely girlfriend moving along to the music being blasted out of the speakers, dancing like it’s what she was born to do and all she ever wanted to do. you couldn’t let yourself show too much of your admiration and attract attention to your clear romantic adoration for her though, trying your best to hide the dopey smile that would overcome you whenever you stared for too long, but god, you couldn’t believe that she was all yours just as you were entirely hers. 

“i’m so sorry for worrying you, babe,” mira yelled out once the two of you were alone, running up behind you and almost knocking you over in an embrace. “i still can’t believe we fell for that, it’s like the demons are getting smarter or something…”

“you need to be more careful!” you scolded. “i don’t want anything bad to happen to you!” you remember when you used to be concerned for her when you first learned about her demon hunting secret, and while you had full faith in her skills now, the last part of her statement was starting to make you feel stressed out for her safety again.

“oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, we kicked their asses in less than five minutes,” she teased. “you really need to relax.”

“well, it’s difficult to relax when i have an idol girlfriend who’s constantly late to all of her events because she’s busy fighting creatures from the underworld!”

“hm… you’re right about that, i should probably make it up to you and help you destress…”

you felt your face get hot at the mischievous tone lacing her voice as her fingers fiddled with the hem of your skirt, “here? what if we get caught?”

“there’s no one here! come on now, i can tell you really need to blow off some steam. it’ll be fine, i promise.”

“okay… but you have to promise to be careful!”

“oh please, i’m nothing if not careful,” she snickered, pushing you to sit down on top of one of the speakers, and parting your thighs with your hands before hooking her fingers into your underwear and pulling it down to expose your lovely pussy to her awaiting brown eyes.

mira brought her face closer to your heat and wasted no time in dipping her tongue in, licking long, broad strokes against your folds and humming in delight at the taste of your sweetness. she watches you through her half-lidded lashes, drinking in your gorgeous facial expressions contorting in pleasure as she flicks the tip of her sharp tongue against your clit. “you’re so fucking pretty when you’re getting eaten out,” she cooed. she swears that the sight of you with your head thrown back and your mouth open in that adorable ‘o’ shape alone is enough to add five years to her lifespan each time, and she wants to see every single day for the rest of your lives together. 

“fuckkkk, miraa,” you whined as your fingers found their way tangled with her pink locks, subconsciously pushing her closer to your heat, something you didn’t even think was possible. 

she pressed her thumb against your weeping hole, tracing the outline and admiring how it twitched in need to be filled by her, “god, you’re so needy…”

“you were the one who wanted to do this,” you huffed, “i think that makes you the—”she cut you off by diving back in, eagerly lapping up your arousal seeping through, and turning your words into moans before you could finish. 

she loses her mind when she’s on her knees for you like this, slurping up that little piece of heaven between your thighs and worshipping like a devoted follower at an altar, sucking on your pearly little clit like it’s candy, and using her hands to keep your legs apart instead of squeezing at her head.

you felt so self-conscious, not just because of her intense passion, but also because of the location that was so recognizable yet was anything but at the same time. you felt like someone would walk in at any moment because they forgot something or someone cleaning up after hours would come across what the two of you were doing, eyes darting around nervously to keep a lookout until you felt mira’s teeth against your core in a threatening manner. 

“hey, eyes on me, baby,” she muttered, clearly displeased about your being distracted. 

“‘m sorry, i can’t help it…”

“don’t think about any of that,” she told you, although you were more focused on the sight of the trail of spit connecting her lips to your cunt, “just close your eyes and focus on me, okay?”

you nodded and did as she ordered, obedient as ever, shutting off all of your senses aside from touch, feeling her tongue thrust in and out of you before lapping at your most sensitive area in a constant motion. the push and pull made you feel that familiar knot in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with every passing second. 

mira could feel it too, the way your nails started to dig into her scalp and your fingers tugging on her locks a little harder. she sped up her pace a little bit more as if she was possessed by raw desire, closing her lips around you and sucking hard, determined to make you finish and create a mess all over her lower face. even when you did finally orgasm, calling out her name with an arch of your back, she continued to leave little kitten licks all over as if she was trying to clean you up. 

resting the side of her head against your inner thigh, she looked up at you with the most detestably loveable look, smirking at you, “see? i told you it would be fine.”

“god, you’re so insufferable!” you pouted, “we really could have been caught!”

“yeah, but we didn’t,” she shrugged. her voice lowered to a whisper, “besides, we both know that it would have turned you on even more if someone did.” the look on your face made her burst out in laughter before getting back up, “come on, let's get you cleaned up, the others are probably wondering where we are.”

request:

M-Mira eating out assistant manager reader before a show, perhaps 🥹👉👈

[corpscs]

summer’s for the girls ⧗ yelena x new avenger!reader

♡ minors and men dni , no use of y/n , wlw , team bickering , everyone is annoyed and sweaty , smut 18+ , ice cubes , stonetop!yelena , yelena and reader are girlfriends , reader has unspecified electrokinesis ability , images are from pinterest , divider , this was edited by my cat so ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes i will probably find them later , russian is from google/reddit

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ detka - babe , lyubimaya - my love

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ masterlist , word count: 3.5k

bones’ now playing ▶︎ for the girls - hayley kiyoko

the watchtower was hot.

a heatwave was currently rolling across the east coast and caused a black out. the power was back on now, but the hvac system got fried in the power surge. oscillating fans could only do so much and the windows of the watchtower barely opened for safety purposes. all the team could do was sit and try not to move too much.

bucky walked into the room, his phone call interrupting the rare, natural peace the team had achieved all on their own, or maybe you all were just overheating. when bucky cursed under his breath, you decided to looked up from your book.

you and bob started your own book club after you got benched for a failed mission due to an electrical explosion, which totally could have not been because of you, but who knows? this week you decided to play some kind of sick joke and choose stephen king’s under the dome, 1,080 something pages. poor bob nearly had a heart attack, but you promised him way more than a week to read and marathon run of the show they made about it before he hesitantly agreed.

“alright.” bucky gruffed into his phone’s receiver. his hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, the shorter fringe pieces sticking to the sides of his sweat slicked face. “thanks, you too.” he hung up the phone with a sigh.

“so… what’s the verdict?” ava asked.

“two days.” and the entire room erupted into groans.

“why can’t we get a hotel?” john suggested. his shirt had been discarded long ago, now only wearing a pair of gym shorts. he was laying flat on the tile floor, the coldest place to be. it was also where ava chose to sit and hog one of three fans set up in the room.

“why? you offering to pay for it, taco bell?” you snorted. the nickname appeared after the sentry folded his shield.

“why should i? barnes’ got a bigger salary than all of us.”

“no hotels!” bucky’s commanding tone was enough to silence them all. “you’re avengers. if a little east coast heatwave can take you all out then we really are doomed.” he paused, feeling a slight draft behind him. “close the freezer, yelena.” bucky warned. even with his back to the bar he could see the russian draped over the bar’s freezer. she groaned before complying with his order, but slamming the cooler door in retaliation.

“you sure you can’t fix it, sparky?” john asked.

“i’m not a fucking engineer.” you rolled your eyes as yelena wandered back to the couch.

the blonde was clad in a grey tank top and black lounge shorts. flopping down to take up the remaining space of the two-seater, head on the arm rest and laying her legs across your thighs. you lifted your book to accommodate her legs before lowering your arms back down to her shins and continuing to read.

“eugh,” she made a face, throwing her head back in disgust. both of you were instantly aware of the slickness of your combined sweat, but didn’t care enough to move. “this is the worst!” yelena complained, yet she made no attempt to change her position.

“we’re all hot yelena.” bucky reminded her as he finished off his nth water of the day.

“yes, but my girlfriend is next to me. and she is sticky and wet, but not in the good ways.” she spoke to the ceiling before lolling her head to the side and locking eyes with bucky.

the others groaned in disgust while you laughed at bucky trying to downplay choking on his last sip of water. now deciding to neglect your book, you watched her laugh falter and then you watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed. the exposed skin of her upper chest and shoulders glimmered with sweat under the bright studio lighting of the tower ceiling. you decided to turn back to your book because it was way too hot to be allowing your mind wander in that direction right now.

“why do we even have leather couches?” yelena moved slightly feeling the stick of the material.

“easy to clean?” john suggested.

“john, i’ve never seen you clean one thing in this entire room before.” ava pointed out.

“yeah, well, i didn’t mean me.” he snapped before silence enveloped the group for a minute or two. the air is so humid and hostile you almost feared the next person who opened their mouth was gonna get themselves tossed out one of the open sliding doors.

“has anyone seen alexei?” ava blurted. they hadn’t spotted the man in a few hours.

“maybe he’s at the pool.” bob suggested. he’d been so quiet reading with his back against the cold stone of the wall you forgot he was there

“isn’t that pool like 80 degrees?” john asked.

“that’s colder than the air, right?”

yelena chose to ignore bob’s question, the last thing she wanted was to lash out at someone who didn’t deserve it. she reminded herself that she was just irritated and that bob was bob.

“he’s probably off drinking to forget about the heat. i don’t know.” she shrugged her outward shoulder slightly. a pause and suddenly yelena was sitting up like you had electrocuted her. the sound of her skin peeling off the material of the couch made you internally cringe.

“yelena, no.” you derailed her train of thought before she could even suggest something.

“oh c’mon, lyubimaya” she whined. “you did not even hear my idea.”

“i don’t need to.” you ignore whatever she grumbled under her breath as she continued to stare at the side of your face.

“you have been reading that same page for six minutes.” her eyes dropped to the page open in your lap.

“i’m distracted.” you side eyed her flipping the page. not because you finished reading it, but to prove a point.

“am i distracting you?” you made the mistake of fully looking at her. whisps of her bangs had fallen out of her headband and stuck to her brow. you could see a small bead of sweat dripping down her left temple.

“the team is distracting.” you lied.

“if i have to watch you two flirt in this heat i may actually stroke out.” john jokingly gagged.

“keep it up you guys.” ava feigned a cheer.

“i think you all got heat stroke.” bucky muttered before leaving the team with one final order, “drink some water.”

it wasn’t a moment later before alexei appeared in the room like a summoned spirit.

“and where have you been?” yelena asked her father in an accusing tone.

“cold shower.” he held up both hands closing his thumb and pointer fingers into a double okay sign. the rest of the team made sounds acknowledgment, but you could only imagine the future lecture from bucky about the water bill. you opened you book back up and attempted to read once more.

you managed to get two pages in before yelena was leaning close to your face,

“detka, i have a new idea.”

“of course you do.” you turned to your left, your faces now no more than two inches apart. her breath didn’t even feel warm against your already heated skin. her eyes moved to your lips before she jerked back, catching the half empty water bottle that walker just hucked in your direction. that action alone had some deprived part of your brain clicking to life.

“hey!” she scolded him.

“get a room.” he hollered. yelena huffed, and threw her legs off your lap, both of you releasing small twin ow’s at the sweat stuck skin ripping apart. you opened your mouth to complain but she leaned down and ordered you to wait ten minutes before following her, “you never heard my idea.”

˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

while you had tried to think up the possibilities of yelena’s idea, you actually did not think of this. but here you were, laying on one of her bleach stained towels, back against your mattress. yelena straddled one of your legs, sitting comfortably despite the temperature of the room. the hum of that fan that’s been running for thirty-some odd hours straight drowned out whatever playlist yelena had playing. it was pointed towards the bed and softly blew around the lose wisps of her hair.

beside her was a metal bowl full of ice cubes.

“ready?” she asked reaching her hand into the bowl. she took a single ice cube into her hand as she adjusted her knees to straddle your hips.

“go for it.” you gave her a lazy ‘okay’. she grinned and placed the ice cube between your collar bones. you gasped from the cold sensation spreading across your skin, goosebumps prickling down your shoulders and arms.

she dragged the ice between your collar bones and chest, avoiding the hem of your tank top. but the ice melted quickly on your heated skin, some soaking your tank and the rest slipping down around your neck. she dragged the cube to the center of your sternum, under the tank top before holding her hand over the material. it didn’t take long for the ice cube to melt completely through the warmth of your chest.

although the ice was startling, the minor relief from the hot air was good enough.

yelena unceremoniously yanked your tank top down below your breasts. and when you heard the threads of the fabric snapping, you scolded her with a gasp of her name.

“relax, i’m pretty sure this one was mine anyways.” was.

“i don’t think so.” your voice pitched upwards into a shriek as she pinched your nipple with cold fingers. “you said you don’t like spaghetti straps.” you recalled catching your breath back.

“i don’t.” yelena agreed. she didn’t like them. she remembers the conversation you two had about waking up tits out because that type of tank top tends to travel in any given direction while sleeping. it was one of the first times yelena was fully honest with you about something. she didn’t like that vulnerability, being exposed. and you were so understanding, you always were.

so no, she would never tell you that the real reason why she gave you all her spaghetti straps a few weeks after that was the very same reason she hated them. you’d probably call her some sort of pervert.

dipping her hand back into the bowl, yelena picked out a new ice cube placing it on the same spot between your collar bones. she dragged the cube in the same path as the first one before sliding it to the opposite nipple she had pinched before. it didn’t feel bad, but it felt strange. like your brain couldn’t figure out if it hurt with all much sensory input against the air in the room.

you gasped loudly, your hand instinctively moving to grab at her wrist. yelena was obviously faster than you and she grabbed a hold of your wrist with her free hand instead. heat flooded your core when she laughed in your face at your attempt to push away. but she held it there until the ice cube was too small to hold in her fingers anymore so she let it melt against your heaving chest.

“c’mon, it must feel nice.” she moved her soaked hand to rub the water across your chest.

“it’s cold.” you wined.

“but it is so hot in here.” she countered. “and you are sweaty. i bet you smell horrible.”

“yelena!” you gasped in embarrassment. now trying to wiggle yourself out from under her.

“i am no better!” she laughed, squeezing her thighs around your hips. “it is, like, 40 degrees in here.” your physical strength was almost infantilizing compared to yelena, and it was too hot to keep up a fight you can’t win.

“i don’t know the metric system, babe.” maybe your delivery was more snarky than you had intended because yelena yanked up her your tank top before dropping an ice cube directly to your belly button. you shrieked loudly, your free hand now going for her wrist. she decided to let you grab her, knowing your physical strength alone isn’t enough to move her hand.

“be careful with your hands detka. you do not want not shock me, again.” you instinctively bucked up against yelena, your hips twisting to avoid the cold sensation. she only followed and controlled your movements.

by the time the ice cube on your stomach melted, her your tank was nearly soaked through with the combined back sweat against the fitted sheet. she allowed you to sit up and wiggle the material off your arms fully.

yelena paused briefly, only allowing herself time to admire her girlfriend, but not really allowing you a full chance to recover. her ice cold hand slipped from it’s spot on your middle and down the below the waistband of your shorts. the cold digits ghosted over your panties and you squealed once again reaching for her.

“ah-ah, please keep your hands to yourself this time. that was very rude.” yelena chided, though she understood it was your natural reflex to the cold. she took some sympathy on you and reached for the hem of her own sweat-soaked tank. she peeled it off, leaving her clad in a black sports bra, before she unceremoniously dropped the cotton onto your bare chest. “since you want something to hold on to.”

she grinned as you immediately gripped the grey article between your fingers. it was damp against your own sweaty palms and it smelt strongly of yelena.

she used the m distraction to sit up and pull your shorts and panties down. the sweat coating your thighs working extra hard against her, but winning the struggle with some extra effort from you.

yelena manhandled you back to where she wanted before straddling you once more. you watched her with wide eyes as she grabbed another ice cube. placing it back against your belly button. you gasped as she slowly brought it down your lower abdomen before holding just above your cunt.

your lips pressed into a thin line to keep your shrieking to a minimum. normally she would be against it, after that one time you accidentally bit through your lip hard enough that it bled for more than a few minutes. and yelena would rather drink bleach than sit through another meeting, where mortifying enough, she shared real reason behind the injury and not because they thought you two had some sort of physical dispute. after that incident yelena said no more and called the ego boost collateral.

her free hand reached to grip your jaw, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to hold you in place. “be careful.” she warned, feeling your unsteady breaths against her hand as you nodded.

the ice cube was about the size of nickel now and her fingers had long since lost their feeling. yelena originally was going to let this ice cube fully melt before she got another, but she decided that she was too eager to see your reaction to wait. after shuffling back just ever so slightly to brace for your reaction, she slipped the remains of the ice cube directly beside your clit.

your entire body seized up, your mouth finally opening in a dramatic gasp. “oh my god!” you shrieked, repeating the phrase like a mantra. “lena!” your legs jerked from under her but the weight of her hips held your knees firmly in place.

when you arched too far off the bed for her liking the hand that once gripped your jaw pushed your chest back down to the bed. her hand held just below where you still gripped her tank top. “i think you can handle it.” her voice carried a song to it’s tone.

you shook you head while crying out dramatically, “its cold!” your legs still tried working against her, but she didn’t budge an inch. her height made her seem unassuming, but she was 5 foot something of solid muscle.

what remained of the ice cube quickly disappeared with the heat from your folds, but yelena kept her hand there. only giving you a break from the cubes, her nearly ice cold fingers still sliding mindlessly through the added water in your arousal. she selfishly took this time to warm her own fingers back up. you called her name softly as she tucked her thumb around your clit, rolling the bundle around slowly.

“yes, lyubimaya?” she drawled, not really paying attention to you. she said something else in russian you couldn’t understand before her cold pointer finger was slipping inside of your heat. you gasped, walls fluttering around her digit. she pumped it slowly before adding her middle finger alongside it. she curled her fingers before slipping them out to toy with your clit. her finger pads moved in steady circles and figure-eights your breathing sped up and your grip on her tank top tightened.

fearing destruction of the garment, your right arm had reached to grip the nearest item of bedding, which happened to be the white top sheet yelena had pushed over. it didn’t take long for her to make you cum.

and while you were catching you breath, yelena brazenly pinched your clit between her knuckles. just because she can. your hips jerked, unsure if you wanted to run to or from the feeling. “see,” she said simply. “not so bad?” you wanted to protest. to bicker that yes, she was being mean. but her fingers were toying with your clit once more, and any protests died out into moans.

the ice cubes left in the bowl where nearly half melted now, their crystallized edges now smooth and rounded like well-worn sea glass.

you watched her grab the next one. the look in yelena’s eyes alone should have had you nervous, but your brain had yet to fully catch up.

without hesitation she slid the ice cube through your folds as your body tried to clench up. but her fingers still pushed through, the ice cube breaching your hole, her two fingers holding it inside you.

you had long since given up attempting to keep quiet. you squealed doing your very best to try and run from her. yelena chased your hips with her hand, lifting the pressure off your thighs ever so slightly. even when the ice melted and the water soaked her hand, she kept it in place, just pumping slowly.

yelena began to rub lazy circles on your clit with her thumb. you moaned loudly, eyes fluttering as your tired body practically hummed with the warm feeling after all of the cold. after she felt you were worked up enough, distracted enough, she effortlessly used a combat move to flip you onto your stomach. landing with and oof, you turned your face to the side to look back at her.

“watch it.” you grumbled as yelena pulled your hips up and back towards her.

“you’re fine.” was all she had to say. before she slotted her knee between your knees. your breath trembled as your clit slid down her thigh.

the feeling from the ice cubes had long left and now your body was warming by the second. “lena.” you gasped out as she pushed her fingers back through your entrance, using her free hand to help fuck you back into her hand. she used that thigh between your legs to help rock you forwards after the pull back, stimulating your clit.

you were now hot. too hot. you honestly might pass out. now you were no longer paying attention to anything anymore. only gasping out into the crumpled sheets below you.

you were so close. yelena knew it. she could feel it. you’re hips were squirming against her hold now, yet she tried her best to control your rhythm. when she felt it, felt your body seize. she kneed your thighs apart, as far as your hips would go. the hand that had been thrusting now rubbed your clit in short circles prolonging your orgasm. still cumming, you were so in your own head that you never noticed her pause to each her hand into that metal bowl.

yelena used her dry hand to push your hips down and open before she shoved the final ice cube inside. you attempted to close your legs, but she had you practically sitting in her lap face down. then when you tried to pull forward, she yanked you right back into place, keeping your hole plugged with her fingers until the cube melted down.

you’re certain that you had a momentary black out from shock and you almost couldn’t catch your breath. still yelena didn’t move. she was watching you and waiting for you to move first.

“i think i’m dead.” was the first thing you said, arms moving slowly to stretch forward above your head.

“i can confirm that you are not.” she rolled you off onto your side, putting the bowl of cold ice water on the night table.

“i think i saw God.”

“and what did she look like?” yelena’s voice was farther away as she reached around bedding and fished out a water bottle, she knew she had stored somewhere.

“you.” you said with a giggle.

“you are so flirty.” she laughed landing a playful slap on your sensitive cunt. you jolted, but stayed put until she yanked you back to a sitting position. she handed you the uncapped water bottle which you drank greedily.

“do you think bob would want to get ice cream with us?” yelena blurted. you blinked.

“since when did we decide to get ice cream?” yelena shrugged.

“i don’t know somewhere in the middle.” she made an obtuse gesture with her hands.

you huffed, “i need like twenty minutes and a cold shower.”

˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

if you’re in hot temperatures wherever you are be sure check up on pals with no ac and remember to DRINK WATER!!!

this would have been up earlier today, but i was victimized by another nap. also this ended up being SO MUCH longer than i had intended. at some point i got way too high and kept on going and going,, also sorting out some sort of master list

𓉸 ♡ ,

bones

[teambyler]

Teambyler: I'm gonna disappear when Season 5 comes out

I will avoid the internet like the plague.

I will stop posting on Tumblr, or anywhere. I won't respond to messages.

People are already talking about how if there's a Byler kiss they'll change their PFPs to show it. I love us Bylers, you're all crazy in a good way, but I can't see any of that shit.

I HATE SPOILERS. Plus, as I promised in my big Byler video, I need to film my GENUINE FIRST reaction to each episode. PLUS, I need to give commentary to each episode and edit those reaction videos for YouTube. I won't be able to quickly do all that.

This is my plan:

Nov. 26: I watch the first episode. Over the next couple days I edit my reaction and post it on my Patreon. They'll be edited... I think a pure unedited reaction from ME will be too boring, as I pause frequently and double-back a lot. My Patreon videos will still have me react to the whole episode though. My public video will be substantially shorter than that. (You can't post a complete reaction on YT.) I'll do these as quickly as possible for each episode.

Dec. 1, 8, 15, 22: VOLUME ONE REACTIONS go up on YouTube.

Dec. 29, Jan. 5, 12: VOLUME TWO REACTIONS go up on YouTube.

Jan. 19: FINALE REACTION goes up on YouTube.

Also, because people will want to know specifically how *I* react to things and what I think about XYZ, I'll withhold from engaging with the fandom between November 26 and when that LAST reaction goes up on January 18. (I MIGHT share my thoughts on things that I already I publicly react to, though.)

So prepare for a "drought" from me!

I REALLY need to cut myself off for this to happen. If for some reason the media wants to talk to "that lawyer who made a Byler video" that in itself tells me too much! So I'll make sure to avoid being reached by them as well.

I can't even look at the dashboard of my own channel for a while. For example, if my Byler video suddenly gets a million views that tells me more than I want to know! =D Actually, I can't see ANY Byler video for a while because if any of them are hugely popular that tells me too much. Aaaaugh!

-teambyler

[e1e4n0r5]

Their Little Plaything: Bonus Scene 5

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue, Bonus Scene 1, Bonus Scene 2, Bonus Scene 3, Bonus Scene 4

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Former Bullies Cait & Vi x Loner Nerd Reader

Words: 6589

Synopsis: The summer between Junior and Senior years doesn't go exactly as you'd planned

Warnings: ANGST!! Relationship insecurities, feelings of isolation, bullying, implied excessive alcohol use

Notes: This wasn't my fault! Someone suggested this a while ago and I wasn't planning on doing it because it's too heart-breaking but then my brain went 'do it' and I had to obey 😭

Summer between Junior and Senior Years

The air on campus buzzed with early summer heat and long goodbyes. Students were dragging overstuffed suitcases down the sidewalks, calling out promises to meet up over the summer break, hugging, laughing, and posing for last-day selfies.

Cait adjusted her bag on her shoulder and turned to Vi with a look that said don’t make a scene.

Vi, of course, was already making one. She had you pulled tightly against her chest, chin tucked over the top of your head, swaying the two of you back and forth with a grip that didn’t seem like it would never let go.

“Eight weeks,” Vi muttered into your hair. “Fuck it, you’re not going, you’re coming with us.”

“Vi-”

“Cait can refund your mom whatever she’s booked, you can’t go,” she begged.

“Vi-”

“How the fuck are we supposed to manage without you for two months!”

Cait spoke louder than you, calling firmly, “Violet.”

She sniffed, shaking her head. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got it. I’ve got it. It’s only eight weeks. That’s nothing. That’s just, like…Forty gym sessions. Without you. Fuck, I’m gonna be so buff by the time you see me.”

Vi finally let go, though her hand lingered around your waist, reluctant to fully let go.

You chuckled softly, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Cait stood close, watching the hug, arms folded lightly. She looked so poised, even now, dressed neatly for her family’s car service that was waiting by the curb. She was trying to keep it together. You were already upset, Vi’s neediness and clinginess was starting to come out…Someone had to be strong. But her eyes softened when you turned to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to drive you to the train station?”

“Cait, it’s almost an hour away, in the other direction. You’ve already got to drive three hours; don’t make it five. I’ll be fine, the campus bus’ll be here any minute.”

She nodded unhappily. She knew you were going home to be with your mother over summer – your mum had booked some non-refundable vacation spots months ago, as surprises for you, not knowing you were now in a relationship – but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss you.

Still, you’d come spend the last two weeks at the Kiramman summer estate with them (even though Cait’s parents didn’t yet know you were a throuple) but it was still going to be a long summer without each other.

“Have you got your ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Purse?”

“Yes.”

“Phone charger? Headphones, book for the journey?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”

Cait nodded. “Text us when you get to the station.”

You smiled, trying to force down the tears. “Okay.”

“And when you arrive,” Cait said, stepping forward to cup your face in both hands. “And I expect full updates from you. Books read, meals eaten – with pictures! – outfits worn, exercises done. Photo collages of all the places you go with your mother.”

“Got it,” you whispered. “Everything. You’ll be sick of me.”

Vi’s hand twitched on your waist, resisting the urge to pull you back in. “You’ll be okay, right? You’ve got your mom, and…We’ll have video sex every night-”

You giggled, tears in your eyes. “Not when I’m sharing a room with mum on vacation.”

“Okay, secret titty pics in the shower will suffice for those days,” Vi joked.

“And we made the shared playlist, so we can think of each other when we’re apart…” Cait’s eyes started getting damp.

“Yeah,” you interrupted gently. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. Eight weeks. Two months.”

It felt like you were all saying it to reassure yourselves.

As they said their final goodbyes, Cait pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, and Vi bumped her forehead against yours, whispering, “Don’t forget us, baby.”

The campus shuttle bus arrived only a minute after their car pulled away. You queued with your suitcase, trying not to cry as you got on board, settling into a window seat, watching the campus slowly empty of students as they all went home for those glorious weeks between years.

It wasn’t until you put in your headphones and they didn’t automatically connect that you realised the worst had happened.

You hadn’t noticed at the time, but as you’d been scrambling to finish packing that morning, you’d accidentally knocked your phone off the bedside table, and under the bed. In the chaos to get out of the house on time, you hadn’t checked if it was in your bag.

Your lifeline – your only connection to the women you loved – was out of reach. And would be for eight weeks.

The train ride was torturous. Not only did you not have your music or any way to communicate with your girlfriends or your mother, but because you knew Cait and Vi would be worried sick. You hadn’t texted them when you’d arrived at the train station, you hadn’t texted once during the two-hour train ride, and you hadn’t let them know you’d arrived in your hometown. You knew they’d be going insane with worry!

But you tried to put it out of your mind; there was nothing you could do about your phone, and when you got back to your childhood home, you’d just think of another way to contact them. At least you still had your laptop.

You walked through the Arrivals area of the train station, looking out for your mum. You smiled wide when you saw her.

“There you are!” she called happily, running over and pulling you into her arms.

You hugged her back tightly, not wanting to let go. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed this; your mum’s shampoo, her perfume, the warmth of her voice, the way she held on like you might slip away.

“Hi, mum,” you choked against her shoulder, trying to hold back tears.

“Oh, I missed you so much, sweetheart!”

Sweetheart.

Your heart panged. Vi. She’d be so worried about you.

“I was texting you, you didn’t reply.”

You shook your head. “I forgot my phone in…My dorm,” you covered quickly.

“Oh, no. We’ll sort something out when we get home. We could always get you one of those ‘burnt’ phones?”

“A burner phone?” you teased.

“Oh, stop it. Come on, let’s get you home. And you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to!”

The house looked the same as ever: white paint peeling just a little more, flower boxes full of red geraniums struggling in the summer heat, wind chimes clinking softly in the breeze.

Inside, everything smelled like lemon polish and fresh laundry. You sank into the familiar cushions of the old sofa, curling your legs under you as your mum bustled about, making tea.

“You look tired,” your mum said, handing you a steaming mug and sitting beside you. “School been that rough?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. The semester ended okay. Just…A lot happened this year.”

“Girlfriend trouble?” Your mum raised an eyebrow and gave you that look – curious, patient, not pushing.

You traced the rim of your mug with your thumb. “Well…”

She grinned. “I knew it! I knew my baby had a girlfriend! Who is she, what’s her name?”

“Well…Um…”

“Oh…Oh, is it a boy?” she asked in surprise, like it were a secret.

That snapped you out of your hesitation. “No, no, definitely not a boy.”

“So, we’re still lesbian?”

You laughed. “Yes, mum, we are still a lesbian.”

“Well, spit it out then! Who is she?”

“Cait-”

“Cait! Awww, that’s such a nice name! Is she-?”

“-And Vi.”

Your mum paused, blinking. “Caitandvi? That’s her name? Where’s she from?”

“No, mum. Caitlyn and Violet. I have two girlfriends.”

She gasped your full name. “Are you cheating on those girls? Do they know about this?”

“No, mum, stop! I have two girlfriends. We’re all together. We’re in a three-person relationship. I have two girlfriends; Cait has two girlfriends; Vi has two girlfriends.”

You could almost see your mum’s brain rebooting. “Oh. Oh, I see! Is that the open relationship stuff?”

You shook your head. “No, not open. The three of us are together, no-one else. Closed unit.”

She finally nodded. “Okay, okay, got it. How long have you been together?”

You sipped your tea. “Since just before Christmas.”

She gasped. “And why haven’t you told me this before?”

You looked at her. “Mum, can you imagine trying to have the conversation we just had…Over the phone? When half the time you still face the camera the wrong way.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Alright, missy, settle down.” She was quiet for a beat. “Are they nice to you?”

You smiled a little, surprised by the question – and the emotion it stirred. “Yes. They make me feel safe. Loved. Seen.”

Your mum nodded slowly. “Then I’m happy for you, and I can’t wait to meet them. It’s not about the shape of the relationship. It’s about how it makes you feel.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, feeling so relieved at your mum’s acceptance and blessing. “They’re really different. Cait’s like…Precision and care. She was Class President this year, and she’s won again for next year too! And Vi’s all fire; she’s on the school football team. They balance each other, and somehow…I fit in there too.”

“They sound like good girls,” your mum said, sipping her tea.

Your eyes stung a little. “I miss them already. I can’t believe I dropped my phone at home and didn’t even notice! I haven’t been able to get in touch with them. They’re going to be so worried about me, or think I’m ignoring them!”

Your mum reached over, rubbing your shoulder gently. “They’ll be waiting for you. The ones who love you always are.”

The first few days at home weren’t terrible. Maddening. But not terrible. You’d spent the first evening trying to figure out how the hell you could contact either, or both, of them.

Your mum had offered to buy you a burner phone – but you didn’t know their numbers.

You’d considered email – but you didn’t have their email addresses.

You could see their social media accounts, but you couldn’t comment or message without an account.

You’d tried to get into your private account (that you only ever used to doomscroll and look at what Cait and Vi posted), but the platform wanted to send a verification code to your phone number – which you didn’t fucking have access to! You’d emailed the help desk, offering to answer any and all security questions – do anything they needed! – but they said there was nothing they could do without your phone.

You could write them a goddamn letter – except you didn’t know either of their families’ addresses, and the Kiramman summer estate was unlisted.

And this rate, you’d have to resort to smoke signals or carrier pigeons…You could just imagine trying to wrangle a bird, sticking a letter to its leg and telling it to go find Cait or Vi. That would only go well…

You unpacked slowly, folding your clothes into the drawers of your childhood bedroom, surrounded by posters you hadn’t bothered to take down when you left for college. Your mum made all your favourite meals, fussed over your hair, asked too many questions about your relationship. It was familiar. Safe.

But not the same.

You kept reaching for your phone, again and again, only to realize it wasn’t in your pocket. Wasn’t on the dresser. Wasn’t in your bag. It was nowhere.

Day by day, the silence stretched out longer. No Cait teasing you in the morning with perfectly timed sensual voice notes. No Vi sending blurry selfies from the grocery store with captions like do we need ten frozen pizzas?

Just…Nothing.

Your mum had surprised you with a disposable camera on day three.

“I know it’s not a fancy phone but you can still take pictures to show the girls! You’ll have to get them developed and printed, but that’s what we did back then,” she explained as she unpacked some groceries.

You examined the camera with a smile, eyeing the extra rolls of film she brought. “Thanks, mum. This is kinda cool. Retro.”

“Please do not describe anything from my youth as retro,” she scolded.

So you started taking photos. You hoped they were okay, you couldn’t see what you’d taken. Maybe everything would end up blurry, or your finger would be over the lens. You captured your outfits of the day – OOTD, as you’d learnt from Cait’s social media. Most of your meals, so Cait would know you’d eaten, even if she wasn’t getting live updates. The beach day you and your mum went on (obligatory secret titty pic for Vi, which then gave you a panic attack thinking of an employee at a photo shop who may end up seeing your boobs). An award-winning photo of your feet propped up on the porch swing, a book in your lap, the sunset in the distance, a gentle blur to the photo to give it that soft and romantic vibe.

The knowledge that the girls would see the photos in the future kept you going, even when you were cut off from them. It was a little thing to hold on to.

But by day ten the doubts began to creep in.

You’d been looking at their social media accounts over the days. Smiles, sun, cocktails by the pool, evening meals in restaurants Cait’s family paid for. Not one mention of you, or missing someone special. Nothing. Just them enjoying themselves.

Two carefree love-struck college girls, living their best summer life.

Maybe it was easier if they didn’t love you back.

Maybe it was better not to hope.

Maybe they’d gone back to Caitlyn’s estate, to her rich family and fancy silverware and acres of land, and realized how easy it would be to forget about you.

You began to wonder if you’d made it all up. If the love was temporary. Conditional. Something that had ended with the school year, like a class schedule or a lease agreement.

Without Cait or Vi checking in, holding you, reminding you that you were safe and wanted and real… You’d never felt so alone.

You walked past your old high school on your way to the grocery store, and it made your stomach twist. Your mind filled with all the horrible memories of your years there – the mocking, the tormenting, the horrific isolation.

The fluorescent lights in the grocery store buzzed quietly overhead. You hadn’t meant to linger, just grab milk for the two of you and leave. But your thoughts kept wandering – without a phone to distract you – to the feel Cait’s fingers tracing your hip, Vi’s laugh muffled into your neck, the smell of both of them next to you in bed.

“Oh my god, look who it is,” a voice drawled behind you.

You turned slowly, praying it wasn’t—

Heather Scott. The girl who played the prank on you in high school, outing you to the whole school, your humiliation published on social media for the world to see. Same perfect teeth, same overly tanned skin. She looked you up and down with a smirk that made you feel fifteen again.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back here,” Heather said, arms crossed. “You always acted like you were too good for this town. What happened, college not work out?”

You frowned. “It’s summer break, Heather.”

Her eyes scanned you. “You look the same. Bit skinnier. Still quiet, huh? Still lesbo?”

You wanted to disappear, but somehow you couldn’t move.

“Oh, come on. Not learnt how to take a joke yet? Bet you’re still the weird girl no-one wants to sit with.”

Your cheeks burned. “Actually, I’m not.”

She raised her eyebrows. “No? You finally got some friends at that fancy college?”

“I do, yeah. I’ve got a best friend-” Shit, you haven’t been able to talk to Powder, either!

She laughed. “Wow, that’s super impressive…”

“And two girlfriends.”

Heather blinked. “Two girlfriends? Now I know you’re making shit up.”

“Look them up: Caitlyn Kiramman and Violet Lanes,” you challenged, even though you hated every desperate word pouring out of your mouth. Why were you doing this? Why were you so desperate for this bitch’s approval? You’d stopped liking her the second she aided in your public humiliation, and that was years ago!

She just laughed to herself as she tapped away on her phone. After a few seconds, she paused, eyebrow lifting. “Blue hair, kinda tall?”

“Yeah! That’s Cait-”

“You’re seriously trying to tell me that these two,” she turned the phone around and showed you the latest photo on Cait’s profile – the two of them sitting in the shallow end of a pool, each with a drink in hand, kissing passionately, “Drop-dead gorgeous women are into you?”

Your heart twisted. “Yes-”

“No fucking way, Y/N. They are way too hot for you. They’re both off-the-scale hot, and you’re seriously like a three on a good day. And besides,” she scrolled back on Cait’s feed, shaking her head, “There’s no mention of you. No other girlfriend, they don’t say they miss anyone, they’re not looking forward to seeing anyone…”

Your heart twisted again. “I’ve asked them to keep me off social media-”

“Why, if you’re really together? Oh, because of that stupid prank years ago? You really think people from school will still pick on you for that? No-one gives a fuck about you anymore.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a fucking loser, Y/N. I bet you’ve made up this whole thing in your head, and these girls don’t even know you. Hey, let me check.” She tapped away on her phone, chewing her gum for a few seconds, and then laughed. “Ha! See!”

She turned the phone back around, showing you a private message screen between her and Cait.

Heather Scott: Y/N says hi

Caitlyn Kiramman: ??

Your lip trembled, your heart pounded.

No.

No, they wouldn’t.

Two question marks doesn’t explain anything! That could mean anything!

Then another message popped up:

Caitlyn Kiramman: Stay the fuck out of our business

* * * Ten days earlier * * *

“Do you think she’ll miss us?”

Vi lay on Cait’s chest in the back of her family’s car, a waterproof blanket beneath them and fluffy one tucked over their naked bodies. It was a three-hour drive to the Kiramman summer estate from college; they had perfected a routine, one they couldn’t wait to show you.

Vi held Cait tightly, as Cait stroked her fingers through her dark hair, lightly scratching her scalp.

“Of course she will.”

“Has she messaged?” she lifted her head a little of Cait’s chest, only to have her hand bring it back down.

She checked her phone screen, unable to hide her disappointment. “Nothing yet.”

“But it’s been two hours,” Vi protested.

“I know,” Cait soothed, “But she might have been in a rush at the station, or maybe her phone died on the train. She’ll let us know as soon as she can. Now, do you want another quick round, or a 30-minute nap before we have to make ourselves presentable?”

Vi growled playfully. “What do you think?”

The Kiramman summer estate was beautiful, quiet, and utterly suffocating. The white brick mansion sat surrounded by orange groves, miles from the nearest neighbouring mansion. Complete with a large pool and bar, terrace, home gym, games rooms, home cinema, and much more, it was the perfect place to escape city life for those precious few weeks of glorious summer weather.

Cait stood at the balcony of her bedroom, arms crossed, watching the distant lights of the city on the horizon. Her family’s staff had unpacked their things as they got settled with tea with her parents. The sheets were pressed, the pillows fluffed, and dinner had been served with ceremonial polish.

But it was missing something. Someone.

Vi tossed and turned behind her, huffing softly. “She hasn’t texted.”

“I know.”

“I know she can be forgetful, but she wouldn’t just disappear.” Vi sat up, bare arms tense, tattoos flexing with every anxious movement. “What if something happened to her?”

Cait turned. “Maybe her phone died, or maybe she’s just catching up with her mother. She’s been saying for weeks how much she’s missed her. She’ll reach out when she can.”

Vi ran her hands through her hair, agitated. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either,” Cait admitted gently. She crossed the room, sitting beside Vi. “But she knows how much we love her.”

Vi leaned forward, elbows on knees. “How can she not have texted back yet? She cried when we were 10 minutes late home last week!”

Cait smiled faintly, brushing Vi’s arm with her fingers. “Okay, to be fair to her: her period was really messing her up that day and she later admitted that she overreacted.” They both smiled softly. “She’ll come back to us, Violet. She always does.”

Cait’s mother, Cassandra, insisted they have tea on the terrace, dressed in light summer linens, surrounded by the expansive gardens filled with bright flowers and gleaming marble paths.

Vi barely touched her tea, her legs jostling under the table constantly.

When they returned to Cait’s room, Vi threw herself down onto the chaise, groaning.

“I’m losing my mind,” she said into a pillow.

Cait sat on the edge of the bed, undoing the clasp of her sandals. “It’s only been three days.”

“Exactly. And I already feel like I’m going to chew through the walls. Why hasn’t she messaged us back! Or even just read the messages!”

Cait looked over at her, walking over slowly. “Is this about missing her, or needing something else?”

Vi met her eyes. “Both.”

Cait’s expression softened.

Vi looked up at her, and for once her bravado cracked – she looked small. “She grounds me. I’m angry all the time and she just…Dissolves it.”

Cait kissed her forehead, then pushed her onto her back on the chaise with a hand on her throat. “Then let me help until she’s back.”

Vi pulled her hips close with a desperate sigh. “You better. I’m losing it here.”

They always shared Cait’s bed at the summer home – the Kiramman parents weren’t naïve enough to imagine that the girls would sleep separately. It was soft and plush, a wonderful bed by all accounts. But neither Cait nor Vi had slept well since they arrived.

“Cait,” Vi whispered desperately on the fourth night, “Touch me.”

Cait turned, stroking her hand down Vi’s side. “You’re trembling.”

“I just…I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I know.”

Vi pressed into her, mouth at Cait’s collarbone. “You have to take it. All of it. Please. I can’t be gentle.”

Cait allowed Vi to roll her over in a practiced, effortless shift of movement. “Then don’t be. Let it out. You know I can take it.”

Vi’s fingers clawed at her, and Cait kissed her like a balm. Steady, grounding, there. There was no teasing. No slow build. Just desperate hunger, and the two of them trying to chase something that didn’t feel whole without their third.

Afterwards, Vi broke down a little, quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. Cait pulled her close, combing through her hair as they lay in the dark.

“We’re gonna be okay,” she whispered.

“Not until she’s home.”

Cait stared at her phone, brows drawn.

“She still hasn’t read any messages,” she said, sitting on the lounger by the pool, clad in her favourite bikini.

Vi paced the patio like a trapped tiger. “She always answers. Even if it’s just a heart. Even if she’s in class.” She groaned, squeezing the back of her neck. “I knew something felt off. Something’s happened.”

Cait raised a hand. “Let’s not panic. It could be something small. Broken phone, tech issue...” But even as she spoke, she didn’t believe it.

Vi paused, hands clenching and unclenching. “What if it’s not?”

Cait shook her head powerlessly. “Well, she hasn’t blocked either of us, and she hasn’t left our group chat. So, we’re not dumped yet. Plus, imagine how she must be feeling – at least we’re together; she doesn’t have either of us, she’s on her own.”

They both sat in silence for a moment.

“I just…” Vi started, then stopped. Her voice cracked slightly. “I just miss her so bad, Cait. And I feel guilty. Like I shouldn’t, because I’m with you and I love you – I love you so fucking much – but it’s like...Half of me’s gone.”

Cait took her hand and pulled her down to sit next to her on the lounger. She wrapped her arm around Vi’s waist, leaning into her chest.

“You’re allowed to miss her,” Cait whispered. “I miss her too. Every time I wake up and she’s not wedged between us like our little space heater, I miss her all over again. Every time I send her a text and see it sitting there, unread. You’re not alone in that.”

Vi buried her face in Cait’s shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d fall this hard. For both of you. But I did. And now it feels like she’s just…Gone.”

Cait pulled back just enough to cup her face. “She’s not gone. She loves us. We’ll figure out what’s going on soon, and then we’ll laugh about how panicked and stressed we were.”

Vi nodded slowly, clinging to the hope in Cait’s voice.

Vi barely made it halfway through breakfast.

The Kirammans had insisted they join the morning meal on the terrace again – polished silverware, crystal glasses, and political small talk.

Vi pushed her food around her plate – having drunk too much the night before – and gave clipped, muttered responses. Her hand twitched toward her pocket every few minutes, checking her phone again and again for a message she knew wouldn’t be there.

When her fork clattered too loudly against the porcelain, Cait’s mother looked at her in concern. Vi muttered an apology and stood.

“I’ll go check on her,” Cait said smoothly, folding her napkin and excusing herself to follow before Cassandra could ask what on Runeterra was going on with the two of them.

She found Vi standing beneath the covered walkway, staring out at the fountain like she wanted to punch it.

“She’s still not answered,” Vi said when Cait came up beside her.

“She still hasn’t blocked us, though. That’s something.”

Vi huffed, tugging at her hair. “You don’t get it.”

“I miss her too, Vi,” Cait replied defensively.

“No, Cait, I need her. I wake up thinking about her, I can’t sleep without her breathing next to me. You’re my rock, you always have been, but Y/N…She’s like breathing now.”

Cait didn’t speak. She only reached out, gently curling her hand around Vi’s, pulling her forehead to rest against hers

“I don’t know how to calm down without her. I need her here. I need her safe. I can’t do another seven weeks of this, Cupcake,” she wept.

“We’ll help each other,” Cait said. “And when we get back, we’ll remind her how much she matters to us. Every day.”

They didn’t speak much that morning. Vi was up first, pacing the length of their bedroom like a caged animal. She needed to fucking destroy something. Cait stayed in bed longer than she normally would, her arm curled around your pillow, which Vi had insisted they bring, despite Cait’s protests that it was ‘a little much.’ Both women were grateful for it now.

She buried her face in it, inhaling your scent, and when Vi looked back over to check on her, Cait didn’t lift her head.

“Hey.” Vi knelt beside the bed. “You alright?”

“I thought I’d be stronger than this,” Cait admitted. “I thought if anyone would hold us together, it’d be me.”

Vi’s heart ached seeing her like this, neat hair loose, voice small.

“We both suck at this,” Vi said, crawling into bed beside her and pulling Cait against her chest.

“I want to be with her. I want to wake up with her. I want her curled up on the couch reading while you and I bicker about what to make for dinner.”

Vi smiled softly. “I miss those dumb slippers. The ones with the ears. I always said they weren’t cute. But now I realise how fucking adorable they are.”

“I miss her humming while she brushes her teeth.”

Vi leaned her forehead against Cait’s. “We’re so gay.”

Cait laughed for the first time in days.

By the eight day, something had changed.

Cait had retreated into a cold silence. She read books, scrolled on her phone, posted pool pics like nothing was wrong. But Vi saw through it – the coolness that was a mask for something fraying underneath.

That afternoon in their room, Cait pulled out her laptop and scrolled through photos, silent.

“She’s in every one,” she said softly.

Vi came to lie beside her on her front, looking at the black-and-white photo on the screen.

You were in a towel, hair wet and smiling shyly as Cait took the picture.

“We made her feel safe,” Cait said. “And now she’s gone home, without us. To that place that was never safe for her.”

Vi swallowed. “We’re gonna bring her back. We have to. She’s probably scared. Or lonely. Or convinced we’ve forgotten her.” She gritted her teeth. “Why can’t we just say we miss her in a post?”

Cait shook her head softly. “She asked us to keep her off social media. We made a promise, Vi. We can’t break her trust just because we miss her.”

Vi teared up a little. “But if she’s watching our feeds, she’d see it.” Her throat started burning and she had to swallow thickly. “She’s hurting somewhere, I know it. And we can’t do anything about it.”

“We will,” Cait said. “As soon as we get home.”

“In seven weeks,” Vi almost sobbed into the comforter.

Taking a break from the pool, Cait and Vi were in the pool’s private kitchen getting some cold drinks. Cait sat on a stool at the bar, Vi rifling through the glass bottles on top.

Cait looked up. “Vi…,” she said softly, a small shake of her head.

The dark-haired girl sighed, hanging her head. With annoyed acceptance, she pulled out a pitcher of fruity mocktails from the fridge, pouring two glasses.

“Day ten,” she said, voice flat.

Cait replied quietly, “I know,” staring at her dark phone screen. Waiting for message. Anything.

Vi braced her arms on the counter. “What if she thinks we’ve moved on? What if…What if her mom said something? Or some dipshit from town?”

“We don’t know that. But we know her. We know how much she loves us.” It had become a mantra for them both during their stay.

“Then why hasn’t she tried to message? Not even a fucking email?”

“Violet, she doesn’t know our emails,” Cait reminded delicately. “She doesn’t have our numbers memorised. Who does, these days?”

Vi looked up, red-rimmed eyes meeting Cait’s. “I feel like I’m falling apart. And I’m with you. That should be enough, right? But it’s not. And I hate that.”

“Vi. You don’t have to choose between me and her. Missing her doesn’t mean you love me less.”

Out of nowhere, Cait’s phone pinged. She grabbed for it frantically, almost dropping it in the process.

1 message from [Unknown Contact]

It was you! It had to be! You found a way to make an account!

Cait’s face lit up…And then dropped.

“Who the fuck is Heather Scott?” Vi demanded, reading over Cait’s shoulder.

“And why is she with Y/N?”

Cait typed back ‘??’, dreading the response she would get. “I don’t think Y/N has ever mentioned-”

Vi’s head shot up. “She’s that bitch!” she shouted, accidentally too close to Cait’s ear.

“Ow, Vi!”

“She’s that bitch that pretended to like Y/N in high school and then posted her online! Heather Scott!” she slammed her hand down on the marble top in rage.

Cait glared back at her phone, fury rising within her.

‘Stay the fuck out of our business’

She had to stop herself throwing her phone down, putting her head in her hands, rubbing her scalp to try and calm down.

“I want to go home,” Vi said firmly. “Now. We’ll go home, and we’ll find a way to get to Y/N from there. I don’t give a fuck if we have to drive to her town and scream her name out the car window. She’s not safe there.”

Cait nodded. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

The front door creaked as Cait eased it open. The house was still. Dim with the blinds half-drawn, stale with the scent of summer heat. Vi followed behind her, suitcase thunking softly against the floor as she put it down, exhausted from the journey. Three-hours was a long way to sit in tense silence.

Faintly, from upstairs, they heard sniffles.

“Y/N?” Cait called gently, looking towards the staircase, her heart in her chest.

Silence.

Then more sniffles, a weak cough.

Vi ran ahead, heart pounding. What if you were hurt? How long had you been there? What if you’d broken your legs, or your back?! What if you needed a fucking ambulance because you were dying?! Cait heard her footsteps along the hallway upstairs, and then—

“Cait,” Vi’s voice cracked, “She’s here.”

Cait dropped her own bag and rushed toward the bedroom. God, what would she find? The door was open, Vi in the doorway.

You knelt on the floor by the bed, a chaotic assortment of your things on the floor around you, a suitcase open in front of you as you shoved things in, uncaring for the state of your clothes. Your phone lay on the comforter, charging by the cable, the battery image flashing red.

“Y/N?” Cait called gently, not wanting to overwhelm you, even as she longed to pull you into her arms. Her soft tone just earned more sniffles and a miserable hiccup. “Sweetheart, did your phone die? Is that why you didn’t reply to us?”

You groaned loudly, coughing as you cried.

Why was she being nice to you!

Your eyes were red, as though you’d not stopped crying for hours. You were crying – sobbing your fucking heart out – as you kept stuffing your items into the suitcase, purposefully not looking at the two girls.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

She ran over and dropped to her knees in front of you. “Baby. No. No, no, no. What are you doing? Talk to us, baby.”

You looked up slowly. Your voice was hoarse. “I lost my phone on the first day, and I didn’t hear from you, and I couldn’t contact you,” sob, cough, “and I thought…You were just faking before. And I made it all up in my head. I couldn’t-,” cough, “I didn’t have any photos to prove to myself it was real.”

Vi let out a sound that was more of a howl than anything else and pulling you into her lap, arms wrapped tightly around you, like she was afraid you might disappear. You were too upset, too weak, to even wrap your arms around her in return.

“You didn’t make it up,” Cait said gently, stepping into the room. She looked shaken too, but her voice was steady. She came over to kneel next you, her hand gently but firmly stroking your back. “We’ve been messaging you every day. We thought you wanted space, or you were having so much fun with your mother. Vi was tearing her hair out.”

“I was going to leave,” you confessed. “I didn’t want to come back here, and you both pretend it never happened.”

Vi pulled back, cupping your cheek. “Don’t say that. We’ve been counting down the days to see you again. We missed you. We fucking missed you, sweetheart.”

“I thought I wasn’t enough,” you said. “Not enough to miss. Not enough to matter.”

Cait leant forward, kissing your shoulder. “You are the most important part of us. We love you so much, sweetheart. You belong here. With us.”

Your jaw trembled. “But Heather Scott-”

Vi growled. “Fuck that bitch and anything she said to you.”

“I don’t want to be apart again,” you whispered.

“Then don’t be,” Cait said. “Move in with us, officially.”

Vi nodded fiercely, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re already here all the time anyway. You can choose new bedsheets, we’ll redecorate whatever you want!”

Your lower lip trembled and then you sobbed even harder.

“I missed you both so much,” you breathed.

“We’re home now,” Cait said. “And so are you.”

They didn’t unpack. They didn’t talk about what they’d missed or try to explain the ache in their chests in any eloquent way. They just held you close.

You lay together in bed, your head nestled on Cait’s chest. Vi had curled around your back, arm slung tight over your waist. Cait had her phone in a holder over your heads, talking you through all the photos and videos they’d taken in the first few days when they could, somewhat, function. Their voices soothed you, but you weren’t truly listening. You just needed them there. And they knew that; they’d tell you everything again when you all felt better. The familiar scent of the house, the softness of clean sheets, and the presence of the women you loved wrapped around you like a blanket.

“I didn’t realize how quiet it would be without you,” Cait murmured into your hair.

Vi gave a soft grunt. “I was tearing through the garden like a maniac.”

“I slept in my mum’s room a few times,” you whispered. “I felt twelve again.”

Neither Cait nor Vi said anything for a long time. They just held you tighter.

Your voice was muffled when you continued. “I ran into Heather. The girl who played that prank on me. She asked if I was still weird and lonely, and I immediately started trying to prove myself to her. Like, ‘I’m cool now, I have two girlfriends!’”

Vi lifted her head slightly, about to speak – probably something brash and full of fire – but Cait gently touched her arm.

“We’re proud of you,” Cait said quietly. “That you stood up for yourself.”

You shook your head sadly. “Wasn’t much ‘standing up’. I cracked the second she was mean to me, about us.”

Vi sighed and kissed the back of your shoulder instead. “We’re going to remind you every day that you’re not that girl anymore. And even if you were, you’d still be ours.”

You sniffled. “I thought maybe I’d made it all up. You two, this house, everything. It felt too good to be true.”

Vi kissed the edge of your jaw. “No way. You’re the best part of it.”

Cait adjusted slightly to press a kiss to your forehead. “You ground us, darling. We fell apart when you were gone.”

You lay like that for a long while, tangled in warm limbs and whispered promises, the kind too soft and slow for the daytime.

Eventually, Cait reached for a remote and turned on the soft glow of the fairy lights they’d strung up before summer – your idea to give your photos and videos some mood lighting. The room filled with a delicate pink warmth.

“Let’s stay like this,” she said. “No expectations. Just us.”

Outside, the evening deepened. Inside, they breathed as one.

Safe. Together. Home.

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @beggingonmykneesforher, @qlelwow, @loneliestafterparty, @flowersareup

[undyingdecay]

could I get yandere perv Bob?

(ive gotten a req for this before, i dont see bob as a yandere so instead hes a stalker, also could be read as pre-thunderbolts)

things going missing. your under wear never quite where you left it, one sock out of a pair you swore was there when you went to bed. your toothbrush sometims a little damp when you know you haven’t used it yet. your bedroom window unlocked when you always check it before you leave.

but you chalk it up to your own exhaustion. distractions. you work too much. forget things. you’re probably losing it

except then there’s bob.

that weird, skittish loser you see around town. works the night shift at the gas station on 12th. always looks like he hasn’t slept in days. shifty eyes, hands stuffed deep in his pockets like he’s constantly on the edge of either crying or throwing a punch.

he always stares.

at first, you think it’s harmless. just some socially awkward burnout who doesn’t know how to mind his own business. it’s a small town — there’s always one.but then you start seeing him everywhere.

you grab coffee? he’s at the end of the block. you run to the store? there’s a beat-up car idling across the lot with a figure you don’t need to squint at to recognize.

and it gets worse.

notes under your windshield wiper with shaky handwriting that reads “you’re so pretty it hurts.”

a voicemail you don’t remember getting — heavy breathing, the faint sound of your own name muttered like a prayer.

and then the dreams start.

or — what you thought were dreams.

the sensation of hands on your thighs while you’re half-asleep. the feeling of something hot and wet against your neck. waking up sticky between your legs with no explanation except the sinking, sickening realization that your window’s unlocked again.

because bob can’t help himself.

he swears he’ll stop every time. every single time he gets his filthy hands on a pair of your panties, sniffs them like a fucking animal, or jerks off into the ones you left in the hamper — he promises himself it’ll be the last time.

but it never is. because he needs you.

needs the scent of you to sleep. needs to know what you look like when you cry. needs to imagine what you taste like when you’re sobbing under him, begging him to stop while he’s too far gone to listen.

and the worst part is you feel it.

that gnawing, clinging presence that hangs around your apartment even when you’re alone. the way your skin prickles when you pass by the closet, convinced someone’s hiding inside.

you tell yourself you’re being paranoid. but you know bobs there.

probably palming himself through his jeans, biting down on his fist to keep quiet as he watches you undress. his gaze fixed on the spot between your thighs. thinking about how easy it’d be to just crawl out and pin you down.

and he will. it’s only a matter of time.

because bob’s not the type to stay patient forever. and once he finally snaps, it’ll be a mess. incoherent apologies. desperate, slurred confessions about how he’s always loved you. the sticky sound of his hand working himself while he makes you listen.

[blooddlusts]

MANCHILD ⋆｡°✩ lee heeseung

( WHY YOU ALWAYS COME RUNNING TO ME ) ── ex boyfriend!! lee heeseung x fem! reader

synopsis: in which you awkwardly cross paths with your ex-boyfriend. and for him to pick up a desperate phone call when you needed it the most (read part one here)

fic notes: ex boyfriend! lee heeseung x fem! reader, suggestive language, cursing, angst, a little bit of reconciliation, very slowburn interactions

kiara's notes: due to popular demand, y'all asked for a part two. y'all can thank my bestie @nocturnebite for actually helping me come up with a happy segway into this story because i was prolly gonna make it more angsty lmao. if this needs a part three —feel free to yell at me (it prolly does)

word count: 2.7k

his phone number blocked, the pictures of you both ripped in two and thrown in the trash. every memory of his face, of his lips kissing your skin, his laughter ringing in your ear —erased, deleted, gone. that was the end of the chapter between you and lee heeseung. and perhaps it was better off that way.

it had been months since you had last spoken to him. while you promised yourself that it was't a big deal, the hole in your heart was begging to be filled, replaced with someone else. it took some motivation to get yourself out of bed, to try going out to clubs, to put makeup on and make yourself presentable in public. he had made you an emotional train wreck, which meant dragging your shaky feet out on the ground to find the confidence that had seemingly left your body the day that he shattered your heart into a million pieces.

and while the confidence returned —your luck with finding a better boy to date seemed physically impossible. no literally. the saying "there are other fish in the sea," must have been a lie. because the men on your dating apps, the men that approached you at clubs, were absolutely horrendous in every way possible. that's not to say that they weren't attractive (in fact, many of them were drop dead gorgeous) but you could spot their imperfections from the first date.

if heeseung had done one thing right, it was for your eyes to be open to the men that would sit in front of you. from the way they ate their pasta to the way they would snake an arm around your waist. the attention to detail made it so easy for you to reject another date, you didn't want to pursue another romantic relationship if they were going to be the same as your ex-boyfriend. but the one thing that lee heeseung had cursed you with was the magnetization. no matter where you went, you were always attracting the same type of men. the "man child" and it was fucking annoying.

they were the ones that played hard to get, the ones that like to linger and make you squirm in your seat wondering if you were going to be given the chance to go on a second date. the ones who promised to pick you up for dinner at seven only for you to be sitting in your living room almost an hour later, wondering when they would show up. the ones who talked passionately about their own hobbies without even batting an eye when you spoke on your success. you don't know what you did to attract such a form of men —but it was completely exhausting.

you prayed that they would be different. so maybe that's why you found yourself getting ready for another date. another dude from another dating app you were on. he didn't seem like a "man child" (but that was just your optimism speaking). and yet, you found yourself waiting in the lobby of your apartment, looking at the hands on your watch tick forward. he was late —of course he was.

"you look nice,"

his voice was unexpected. like a random bolt of lightning striking a clear summer day. it immediately took you out of your bored dazed as you looked up to see him staring at you. how many months had it been since you'd see his face? how many times had you spent trying to block him out of your head? surely, this was a figment of your imagination —but the tiny smile that touched his lips professed that the man standing in front of you was real.

"um thanks," you awkwardly replied, feeling your cheeks turn pink as you politely accepted his compliment.

the silence that between the two of you was as thick as a slice of texas toast. after all, what was there to say? how could you casually strike up a conversation with someone who casually threw your heart to the side?

"are you going on a date?"

"something like that, if he's planning on showing up," you scoffed as you looked down at your phone. no new messages, brilliant.

"how are things with your going with your girlfriend?" you asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject. you were mentally begging that your date could show up any minute now to save you from the jaws of the awkward conversation you were forced to be in.

"we broke up,"

great, so much for making the conversation less awkward.

what were you supposed to say? "i'm sorry that you two broke up?" you weren't. in fact, there was some form of satisfaction knowing that things with his ex-girlfriend didn't work out again. and yet, you found yourself awkwardly shifting in your chair praying that some sort of words could slip out of your lips to answer heeseung.

"oh..."

"...yeah,"

as much as you were curious to know why the relationship had ended. you had no choice but to plant a tiny smile on your lips and let out a sigh of relief as your phone screen lit up. saved by the bell-ish. the likelihood of this date being better than your previous ones seemed unlikely but it was better than spending any more time with heeseung. those were minutes you were never going to get back.

"well, that's my date," you said as you got up from your seat and smoothed out your dress. for a minute, you could have sworn that there was a tiny grimace on his face when he heard those words slip out of your lips. but it was almost immediately replaced with a faint smile. it had to be your imagination.

"it was nice seeing you heeseung,"

and with a polite smile, you walked out of the lobby with confidence in your footsteps, masking the sinking pit of anxious feelings that swirled in your stomach. you had a date to worry about and yet, he was there crawling his way back into your mind like a parasite.

it had been so long since you'd last seen him. so why out of all places did you have to see him now? more importantly, what was he doing in the lobby of your apartment building?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

your date was going horribly. not much of a surprise there. after being picked up forty minutes late, your date reeked of cologne. not that his cologne smelt bad, but it was like the man practically bathed in it. he was chivalrous enough to open the car door for you —that was about it. he chewed with his mouth open, he would constantly interrupt you when you had anything to say, and let's not forget how his phone wasn't silenced so you could hear the tinder notification constantly beeping on his phone.

you couldn't even keep track of what he was talking about. you were just waiting for the bill at this point. you were already planning on calling an uber instead of letting him drop you back at your place. the last thing you needed was his lips covered in pasta sauce trying to kiss you —ew.

"well, this has been a fun date but i should probably go home now," you started to say as you watched the waiter place the bill down in front of you. your date didn't even pay attention to what you had said, he took one glance at the bill and looked back up at you.

"aren't you going to pay?" he asked.

"excuse me?"

that was a quick slap to the face. now he was really racking up the points for being the worst date you've had. picking a fancy ass restaurant and expecting you to pay? of course, you should have picked up the sign sooner. there was a card on the dashboard of the car he picked you up in that was from some car rental business. he decided to pay for the most expensive bottle of wine and gorge himself on an expensive plate of food. great, another man child.

"i asked you out on the date, the least you can do is pay for the food," he replied casually while wiping the pasta sauce off of his chin.

"you've got to be fucking kidding me. is this what you do to all women that you take out on a date? order the most expensive meal and expect them to pay for it?" you snapped as you glared daggers at you date.

the fact that he didn't say anything made things even more upsetting. all he did was blink at you, as if you should have known this was how the date was supposed to go. "look, it's not that big of a deal. besides, i promise i'll make it up to you once we head back to your place," he said as he tried to place his hand on top of yours.

"oh really? is that what you think is going to happen? that i'm invite you back to back to my place and i'm gonna let you fuck with that tiny thing you call a penis?" you grit your teeth before getting up from your seat.

"go call your parents and ask them to help pay for your meal," you said as you opened your purse and threw some cash down in front of him. "here's my half of the bill," you added on before walking out of the restaurant, leaving behind your date jaw dropped and confused.

you stepped out of the restaurant into the darkened sky. the only thing lighting up the world in front of you were the city lights and the billboards that illuminated advertisements of happy smiling faces beaming in fluorescent colours in front of you.

while you should have felt relieved that you called it quits with that dude that just wanted to get in the sheets, there was something about this date that was the last straw. they were all the same, all of the dates that you had been on were just stupid men seeing you as another way to get their body count up. it was fucking disgusting. you craved the romantic life, you begged to be loved again, you wanted—

—and in that moment, your impulsiveness took over. you found yourself fishing your phone out of your purse, your hand going to the settings, clicking on a blocked phone number that you had memorized by heart, and pressing the call button.

you paced around in circles. a thousand thoughts accumulating in your head as you continued to hear the phone ring in your ear. until you heard his voice on the other line.

"hey, do you think you can pick me up?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the car ride was completely silent. no questions asked, no small talk to be made, just you two sitting with the radio as ambience to fill the void that was between the two of you. you didn't think he was going to answer, let alone pick you up. yet, you found yourself in the same car with your ex-boyfriend, with lee heeseung, the man you swore you never wanted to see in a million years —all because some stupid date went horribly wrong.

for the first time in a while, you felt like you could actually breathe. like you could sit back and pause in a world that was constantly moving. or maybe it was because you were in a car with someone that you had once been vulnerable with, someone that you had completely poured your heart and soul to. whatever the reason, you were able to rest your head on the side of the window and relax in the passenger seat.

"so, do you want to talk about what happened?" there it was. the moment that you weren't necessarily dreading, but knew that was going to happen. it was only a matter of time before he was going to confront you about the situation. or why you decided to call him up out of all people.

"not really," you muttered. you refused to make eye contact with him. one look into those doe-like eyes and hating him was a lost cause. you couldn't give in to him that easily.

"it's just, all of these dates that i've been going on are awful," you started as you finally moved your head away from the window and turned to look at him. "i mean, every guy i've been going out with these past couple of months have been the same. i'm so sick of attracting men that act like children!" you groaned as you threw your hands up into the air.

heeseung only chuckled as you finally started opening up to him again. there was something about seeing your face getting all red and flustered that made his heart skip a beat. he wanted to tell you, he needed to tell you—

"—he asked me to pay for the meal, hee. the dude literally ordered the most expensive meal on the menu and expected that i was going to pay—"

"—you called just me hee,"

you paused and turned to look at heeseung who was staring directly at you. thankfully you two were at a red light, so it wasn't like any car was going to come crashing into you but still. the nickname had slipped out of your tongue so casually that you didn't even notice yourself say it. but he did.

you didn't say anything to him after that. it was an instant "keep your lips" quiet moment after that. he caught you slipping once, you weren't going to let it happen again. so when he drove into the parking garage of your apartment complex you couldn't help but eagerly take off your seatbelt.

"well, thanks for the ride," you said already moving to open the car door. but before you could make a swift exit, heeseung was already out of the car, outside opening the door for you.

what was this feeling that was swelling up in your chest? you should be hating him right now. yet, you didn't shoo him away when he started to walk with you up to your apartment. he didn't say anything, just had his hands in his pockets, keeping his eye out for anyone that seemed suspicious. it was the tiny things that made your heart continue to skip a beat, even when you knew that you shouldn't.

"you know you didn't need to walk me to my door," you said as you fished your keys out of your purse.

"i know, i just figured that maybe it would save you from any other creeps trying to hit on you," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"i appreciate it, heeseung. thanks for picking me up tonight. i honestly didn't think that you were going to pick up the phone,"

"well i'm glad i did. i've missed talking to you,"

you could only nod and smile at his comment. and then came the awkwardness that you two were so familiar with. it's not like you could give him a hug, or the usual kiss on the cheek when you first started dating. you two were just strangers, exes that picked up the phone for one small favour. nothing more nothing less.

"have a good night, heeseung,"

"sweet dreams,"

and while you watched him walk down the hallway as you stepped into your apartment, your stomach was greeted with the same pit of butterflies fluttering around. you shook your head, you couldn't fall for him again, that would mean neglecting everything that he had done. the way that he had taken your heart, smashed it into a million pieces and left you lying trying to fix everything he had broken.

but he answered your phone call.

you watched him turn the corner, a sigh escaping your lips before you closed the door behind you. now was not the time to catch feelings for the man that had cursed you to find every "man child" in the city. now was not the time to fill the hole in your heart with the same man who inflicted the damage you were trying to fix.

but everything about that night had brought back the tiny spark that you had put out so long. the wave of emotions coming back like a tide the more you played them over in your head. and so you went to bed with a confused head and a stomach swirling with butterflies.

he had left you once before. but he came back.

if only he never answered your phone call at all.

taglist: @keehoes @daisyintherainsposts @evxnsbae @douqhnxtss @mimimovv @sunooqvrlsx

reblogs, likes, comments & feedback are appreciated!

[mojifushiguro]

unforgettable ! e.yeager & a.arlert

"its not gonna work for you... nobody can equal me, I know..." eren x black!fem x armin

warnings: smut, a little rough sex, cursing, mild angst towards the middle, mentions of cheating, lengthy.

part 5. this is part 4. next part here.

"she been ignoring me all day." eren sipped from the styrofoam cup in his hands while leaning back on the couch.

connie lit a blunt, puffing it and closing his eyes. he exhaled, "who? ya girl?"

eren slowly nodded. "she came home at bout... what, 2 o'clock? in the afternoon. then..." he took another sip. "she wasn't sayin shit to me. ion een know what I did." he let out a lazy laugh, but was serious. he was just high.

he looked at you across the room, laughing it up with sasha.

"you think you did sum?" armin asked, sitting on the table in front of him. eren leaned over to look past armin to get a better view of you, despite all the people crowding you, as he slowly shook his head. "not shit."

"shit man." connie passed eren the blunt. he'd already had two. as many as he had, he just couldn't get you off his mind. "you know where she was last night?" jean asked.

"Sashas."

"you sure?" jean glanced up from his phone.

eren took his eyes off you and looked at jean. "hell yeah im sure, where else she gon go?"

you, on the other hand, with a drink in your hand, stood with sasha as she cracked jokes about random things. you couldn't help but feel eyes on you, and you looked over.

you locked eyes with eren, who tilted his head back to signal you to come over to him. as drunk as you were, you knew it wasn't the best option. you shook your head no. you could see him smack his lips and signal you again, but you just looked away.

"okay. the hell y'all doin?" sasha frowned in confusion.

you turned to sasha and looked her in the eyes. "okay, I gotta tell you sum, but you gotta promise not to tell nobody. even if we fall out one day."

"girl now you know." she put her hand on her hip and you pulled her close and whispered in your ear.

she stayed silent as you whispered, but her face said everything.

all the boys looked back at you two and then looked at eren. "you think they over there talkin bout you, E?" ony snickered with connie, dapping him up.

eren groaned and closed his eyes, throwing his head back. "do not date, bruh. this shit insufferable."

sasha's mouth hung open and she stared at you. "girl... you petty as hell!" she bursted into laughter, but you hit her on the shoulder. "but you cant tell nobody sasha."

"y/n, you know im not. but who was the bitch texting his phone?"

"that's the fuckin thing, ion know. but I think it was mikasa. you know how close they be, how they always talking shit bout somebody? yeah."

sasha looked around. "okay lets find the bitch and press her bout it."

before you could stop sasha, she grabbed your hand and dragged you along.

"where the fuck they goin?" eren squinted, watching you and sasha leave out the door.

"damnnnn." jean laughed, shaking his head.

"prolly went to find some niggas, especially sasha. she got a new one every week." ony smiled, grabbing the blunt from jean. connie nodded. "and you gon get yo ass beat when she figure out you shit talkin again."

you and sasha stood there, arms crossed, staring at mikasa. she frowned, looking from you to her. "what?"

"you been fuckin my nigga?" you stared into her eyes. mikasa blinked before laughing and shaking her head. "girl, what?"

"you heard her. we dont wanna have to beat yo ass, cus you apart of this group, but you been fuckin my homegirl man."

mikasas eyes just widened and she held her hands up. "hold the fuck on. you been fuckin jean, too?"

you and sasha frowned, "jean?"

"you fucked jean?" sasha squinted.

mikasa shook her head, tossing her drink to the ground. "I knew his ass was cheating." before she could walk away to go confront him, you grabbed her.

"wait, you aint text eren the night before last night?" you stared at her in disbelief.

mikasa shook her head. "I was with jean. after you left that thing at connies house, me and him went home." she paused. "well nobody was 'posed to know that so dont tell nobody."

she was obviously drunk, and whatever secret animosity you had with her was out the window.

you and sasha looked at each other in disbelief.

mikasa frowned and started to blink. "wait, somebody texted eren?"

"yeah, and we dont know who it is. we thought it was you." sasha said in an honest tone.

connie rubbed erens shoulder, holding back his laugh. "you good, fam. she prolly just went to talk about the situation with sasha."

"ion know man, you know it aint ever sum good happening when she get wit sasha." ony looked at eren. "who knows what they coulda did when they was out yesterday."

ignoring the way ony purposely tormented eren, making everybody laugh, armin looked down in his phone, biting his lip.

eren stood up, pushing connies hand away from his shoulder, with an irritated look on his face. "Ian fuckin playin." he mumbled, pouring himself another drunk and walking off towards the back door, pushing past anyone that got in the way.

as everyone got serious and quiet, connie looked at armin. he looked at connie, basically reading his mind.

armin sighed, getting up to go check on eren. he looked around outside until he saw him, sitting by the pool by himself, where was no one there. he sat on the end of a lounging chair and armin did the same on a chair that was right beside him.

"you good?" he asked after a long silence.

eren looked at the water flow in the pool due to the jets and shook hie head, leaning over.

"they up in there playin and shit, I just wanna know what's wrong wit my girl."

armin sat there and listened, looking at the ground. "did sum happen before she started actin like that?"

eren took a sip from his cup and shook his head. "we was being lovey dovey as hell. cuddlin and shit. no argument, no nun. I checked on her, asked her if she was good she said yeah. morning came, she getting ready and shit, out all day and night, and she aint come back til this morning."

armin just licked his lips and tucked them between his teeth, thinking about the situation.

he never really knew how much eren cared about you, based off the things he saw and the things he said. the way he talked about your relationship.

not that it was in a bad way, but in a way that made it seem like eren didn't really care about it. from what armin knew, you and eren never talked things out, only had sex and whatnot, setting the problem to the side.

he also know eren started being quiet about it.

stopped telling him, maybe not just him, you guys' business.

he did feel bad. knowing that eren actually wanted things to work out between you and him and not just going and fucking other girls like he did in his past relationships.

a part of armin wished eren did what he used to do and tell armin he could have the girl he was with, because she was useless to him now.

he never agreed with what eren said or took that chance. but you meant so much to him in only the span of a week, he couldn't help but want you.

"you sure you aint do nothing? like... to trigger that? she ever acted like that?"

he hoped he did.

"hell yeah, when I make her mad she'll ignore me for a good few minutes to a hour, but it aint ever been for the whole day." eren took a deep breath and sighed. "and im positive Ian do shit. I know I do sometimes, but right now, I know I didn't."

armin leaned back on his hands.

he liked you, he really did. it was a shame you even chose to be with eren, because he liked you.

"just... try to talk to her tonight about it." was all he could say. eren was still his best friend, and he had to be there for him as a friend, not as someone who was jealous that he had the girl he'd always hoped for.

you sat upstairs, away from all the crowds with mikasa and sasha. you three sat on the bed, legs crossed.

all of you were drunk, tipsy, whatever, trying to figure out what to do.

"you love him, right?" mikasa asked.

"who, eren? of course." you answered.

"wait, so what was the purpose of fucking armin?" she asked, looking back and forth from you and sasha.

you shook your head. "Ion know, and I really shoulda never did it. but he was telling me how eren wasn't a good boyfriend, and in the moment, I already had a few drinks. eren made me mad before we went to the party so I guess it was just something to calm me down."

sasha nodded, looking around the room to think of a solution for you. "you ever considered just admitting to it? I mean, not fully, but you know."

your brows furrowed at the thought. at first, you didn't mind eren finding out you cheated, but now, you didn't care at all.

mikasa stopped your thoughts and held her hand up, "but you gotta think, those messages could be a big ass misunderstanding. you said the number wasn't saved, what if the messages weren't meant for him?"

that was another thing. the messages made it really clear he cheated, but then again there wasn't a 100% chance he did, unless you were to catch him in the act.

"so I dont think you should tell em. if he's that confused, he prolly dont even know he, quote on quote, cheated." mikasa pointed at you, chugging her margarita.

but even if he didn't cheat, what would you and armin do? you liked armin, sure. but you didn't like him enough to choose him over eren, and you think you made that pretty clear to him.

"I say... talk to him about it." sasha shrugged. "you never talk things out with him, so talk to him about it. let him know 'I know you cheated.'"

mikasa nodded. "just dont let him find out you did."

after a few hours of anxiety and drinks, you had sasha drop you off, since she was the most functioning girl out of the group.

eren came a few minutes after you did.

it was past midnight, and you wiped your makeup off in your bathroom mirror.

you'd just gotten out of the shower to at least be a little sober. putting one wipe in the trash, you grabbed another to wipe your lips.

you thought about what mikasa said. what if it was a big misunderstanding? when you weren't being mean to eren in the moment, you couldn't lie like you didn't miss him.

you remembered sasha said to talk it out, but you just couldn't get yourself to talk to him.

he showered in the guests bathroom to give you space. he knew you were drunk, and he didn't wanna set off any emotion by being around you, but he missed you so bad.

you heard the bedroom door close, glancing over for just a second before continuing what you were doing. eren put his clothes in a basket and stretched with a yawn.

he walked to the bathroom, standing beside you and leaning back on the counter.

he wanted to see if he could at least get you back to normal, maybe to avoid talking about how you were acting, because he wasn't good at explaining things when it came to you anyways.

"hey." he said quietly, eyes scanning your whole face. you stayed quiet.

eren pressed his lips together and pushed himself off the counter, leaving the bathroom and going towards your shared bed, where he sat on the edge of it and got on his phone.

you finished your skin care, putting things back in place on the counter before turning the light off and closing the bathroom door. you only wore a tank top and underwear, which was odd to eren because you'd always sleep in his clothes at night.

he didn't look at you when you walked to your side of the bed, instead of crawling over him just to get on his nerves.

or when you sat on the end of the bed instead of laying beside him, grabbing the remote and finding something to watch on the tv.

a long silence washed over you two, the ambiance of the tv being the only thing keeping him from going insane.

he didn't face you, he still sat on the end of the bed. but he put his phone down and put his face in his hands, sighing deeply.

"ion know what I did. I promise ion know what I did." he started off. you didn't turn around, but you took your eyes off the tv and listened.

"you cant sit here and keep ignoring me, cus ion know why you doin it. if I did sum, y/n, talk to me about that shit. you been out all yesterday, and I promise im not assuming you been wit somebody else, cus you said you was wit sasha, but if its somebody else you want, ion care dude, just say that." eren looked over at you, staring at the back of your head.

"I trust you as much as I love you, im not gon leave you alone. if sum wrong, yell at me, scream, mutter under yo breath, ion care." he looked away. "just dont ignore me. that shit hurt." he looked back at you. "im talmout, you barely talk to me. you aint been answering my messages, you know how long it been since we kissed? a long ass time for us. you know."

you felt a small ache in your heart. you didn't wanna talk to him at all.

you just turned to face him, making eren sit up and turn towards you. "ion know who texted yo phone that night, last night, but whoever it was, they can have you."

now, of course you didn't mean what you said, but you were speaking off of emotions and not true feelings.

you saw the puzzled look on erens face and you scoffed. "them hoes dont love you like I love you, and ion know why I gotta keep telling you that." you shook your head, looking deeply into his eyes.

he knew what you were assuming, but before he could defend his self, he wanted to reassure you.

"when I tell you, on everything I love, I never cheated on you in my fuckin life." he put his hand on his heart. "like from the minute we got together, y/n, I never cheated. I know Ian shit sometimes, but I know what I be doing." he explained. "so right now, bruh please believe me when I say I have no idea what you talkin bout."

you let out and laugh and looked away. "okay, so who was the bitch texting yo phone in the middle of the night, talkin bout y'all was flirting at the party and she know you got a girlfriend, all that shit."

eren dragged his hands down his face and stood up. "Ion know who that was."

"now youn know. nigga you're insufferable, you know that?" you stood up, walking towards him. "you always lyin for these bitches that wouldn't raise a finger for yo ass." you nudged his forehead, making him lick the inside of his cheek and look you in the eyes.

eren just slowly nodded.

it aint do nothing but piss you off more.

"I cant be around you." you mumbled, grabbing your phone and leaving the room. you went to the living room and plopped down on the couch, crossing your arms.

now, you might've still been a little drunk, but you had every reason to be mad at him.

about an hour passed of you being down there by yourself. you scrolled on your phone while laying on your stomach, foot hanging off the couch.

you heard eren coming to the living room, but you didn't say anything. you weren't as mad anymore, simply because you'd kind of forgotten you even argued about it. until you felt him put all his weight on you, and lay on your back.

"eren get back." you struggled to get him off of you and he hummed, "mhh mhh" as he kissed your cheek.

"ion want no kisses, move!" you covered your cheeks and turned your face away from him.

"why not?" he rolled off of you to lay on the floor beside the couch, putting his arm behind his head.

"cus you cheated on me." you leaned over to look at him.

eren sighed. "I didn't, baby. I promise, ion know who texted me. ion know how I can prove it, cus it took yo ass so long to ask me about it, but ion know who number it was, or why they texted me. I was wit ony and jean the whole time at that party."

your eyes trailed erens face. you really wondered if he was lying or not.

"eren just tell the truth. im sick of bein mad."

"I promise, im not lyin. I swear."

well shit.

you didn't know if you wanted to believe him or not.

but erens never been that genuine about anything. he played a lot. he was never that serious.

"okay." you mumbled, standing up and pulling his arm to take him with you.

you went back to your room, eren closing the door behind you two. you sighed and laid on the bed, stretching your arms out.

eren crawled over you, smiling as he laid back on your back. "you know I wouldn't do that shit." he mumbled, grabbing your face and kissing you. you hummed into the kiss. "I know."

"then why you be actin up?" he rubbed your arms before moving his down to wrap them around you. you closed your eyes. "cus I miss you."

"you miss me?" he mocked you with a light laugh, making you playfully roll your eyes. you felt him get off of you and put his knees on the outside of both of your thighs. "been stressed?"

you nodded, laying your head on your arms and closing your eyes. "because of you."

he started to rub up and down your back, softening his eyes at you. "m sorry then." he leaned down and kissed the back of your neck softly before getting back up and slipping his hands up your shirt.

you hated that it reminded you of armin.

almost everything he did reminded you of armin, rather than everything armin did reminding you of him.

you kept your eyes closed, softly humming at the small massage eren gave you.

you felt him move from your back and shoulders to your hips, rubbing them softly with his thumbs and he looked at you. "I missed ya." he said in a low tone.

you felt small pokes on your butt, making you giggle and wiggle around. "I know, stop!" you waved your hand back.

eren bit his lip, rubbing and squishing your butt. "whatchu doin?" you asked, propping up on your elbows and looking back at him. eren looked at you. "dont look at me like that."

you smiled, turning around and stretching your arms in front of you, arching a little.

you felt erens hands on your hips again, and him pressing against you. "you doin that on purpose." he glanced at you, feeling his boner kick in.

you laughed. "doin what, eren?"

he stayed quiet, using his right thumb to press against your clit, tilting his head to get a better view of your reaction.

you licked your lips, letting out a silent exhale, like he just calmed your nerves.

eren smirked a little at seeing your face, and rubbed his thumb softly against your clit and entrance, going back and forth between the two.

he felt you throb against his finger, he felt the way you got so wet at almost the smallest thing. he loved how much your body loved him.

how you couldn't resist to rub yourself against him, softly humming at the sensation.

it made him feel so nice. not only on the outside, but the inside.

eren leaned down, his hand slowly moving up to your breast. he softly massaged it while kissing behind your ear. "wanna have sex?" he mumbled, pressing his bulge against your butt.

you bit your lip, opening your eyes to look at him, and you nodded.

eren grabbed your chin to lift your head and gave you soft kisses on your neck, sucking at sensitive spots. he knew your body better than anybody else.

once he saw a hickey start to form, he let your head go and pushed himself off of you. he spread his legs further on each side of you, tapping your thigh. you raised your butt, arching your back and moving back against him.

"be patient, baby." eren slightly pulled his sweats down, grabbing his dick and moving closer to you. he pulled your underwear down and off of you, tossing them to the other end of the bed.

he gripped your ass, grinning at the way you throbbed around nothing, and glistened already. he teased you with his thumb, knowing you hated that.

"erennn, come onnnn" you whined. he tied his hair back and moved his hand up your waist.

you felt him slowly slide the tip in, effortlessly, stretching you out with every inch.

"oh my god..." you moaned softly, gripping the sheets already.

eren pulled you against him slowly, groaning at how slick you were, the way you tightened around him, it drove him crazy. "I missed you." he whispered. before you could return the favor, he started to thrust in and out of you.

"f....uck, I... I missed youuu" you moaned, toes curling, and fingers starting to hurt from the grip you had on the covers.

"mhm? you did?" eren bit his lip, thrusting at the same pace, but harder. you definitely pissed him off earlier. moans kept slipping out as you blabbered everything that came to your mind. "yeah... oh my g- yes...!"

your brows furrowed. he hit your g spot perfectly, gripping your ass with a force so hard, it felt amazing.

"aw, baby, you feel so good. you know that?" he leaned over on one arm, using his other one to hold you close to him. he pressed on your stomach, making you go completely silent, but lips still parted.

that's how he knew he hit the spot.

suddenly, you gasped and let out a long moan.

"talk to me, baby." he mumbled, pressing even harder. you grinded against eren as he continued to thrust, hard and meaningful. "fuck, eren, I love you, I love you so much!"

he nodded, slowing the thrusts down. he got up, pulling out slowly.

your body dropped, and you shook your head, looking back at him. "why you stop, eren?" you asked softly.

eren turned you over and made you lay on your back. "so we can have sex." he muttered, not taking his eyes from between your legs. instead, he spread them, positioning himself at your entrance.

you put your arms beside your head, looking deeply at eren. when you felt him slide back into you, you both let out small gasps, eyes locking with each others.

he grabbed your waist, pulling you closer as he slowly thrusted into you again. your hands flew to his wrists, eyes rolling back, and back arching. he felt too good to be true.

"so big..." you whispered, trying your best to suppress your moans. eren licked his lips, "I know" he replied, taking his shirt off and tossing it on the floor. he leaned over you, quickening his pace.

every thrust earned a breath or a moan. you dragged your hand down his chest, opening your eyes to look him in his. you wrapped your arm around his neck, and the other around the back of his shoulder.

"harder.." you whispered, looking at him with glossy, sweet eyes. eren stopped, adjusted his self, and there it was. you wrapped both of your arms around his neck, moaning in his ear, as he groaned in yours. "so tight." he leaned more into you, pink flushed face in your neck.

"oh.. fuck.." he groaned, feeling you tighten around him. you were so wet, so warm. he was so big, felt so good.

and you wrapping your legs around his waist didnt make it any better. matter of fact, he got deeper.

you moaned and whined in his ear, mixed with his moans and choppy groans in yours, it mixed like liquid.

"why you doin me like thisss?" you whined, softly hitting his back. "I cant... I cant do it, E!" you dug your nails in his shoulders.

he frowned at the pain, but he didn't stop you. "you can." he thrusted harder and slower, making you yell out, your hands moving to grip the sheets again. "I- I cant..." you moaned softly, moving your legs from his waist, and spreading them instead.

"you let somebody else fuck you?" eren grunted, moving his lips from your neck to your lips, grabbing the back of your head to raise you towards him, starting to tongue kiss you.

he pulled away, moving up to grab behind your knees, gripping your legs. "huh? somebody else had this pussy?"

with the sensation of constant throbbing and an upcoming orgasm, you quickly shook your head. "no.. no" you furrowed your brows, looking down at his stomach.

you felt his hand leave one of your legs and grab your face, forcing you to look at him.

"dont lie." he stared deep into your eyes, quickening his pace. you tried to stop your eyes from rolling back, as you gripped his wrist, your legs tightened around him, slowing him down.

"open em." eren looked down, letting your face go. you whined and whimpered, "I cant, erennnn" that 'sad' expression washed over your face.

you tried your best to hold back on cumming, but you were so close.

all of a sudden, you felt your leg go in the air, and on his shoulder, the other one being forced open. "and dont cum." he groaned, starting back fucking you.

"come onnn" you moaned, reaching down, but eren smacked your hand, looking at you as he fucked you senseless. "somebody else been in this pussy, y/n?" he knew you could already barely talk, you were too busy moaning.

you shook your head, opening your eyes and looking eren in his. "no..."

eren threw his head back, grabbing your ankle. "hah... fuck, dont fuckin lie." he dug his nails in your thigh. "they fuck you better?"

hell naw.

"nooo, fuckkk eren!" your legs started to twitch. "no?" he mocked. you shook your head. "no, no, I promise" you tried to move away, but he only moved closer to you, and seemingly even deeper.

"you love me?"

"yeah... yes... I love you so much, baby.."

eren let go of your ankle, pushing your leg off of his shoulder, and pressed down on your stomach, fucking you harder than before.

"oh... oh my.." you felt your legs start to shake, and you tightened around him.

your whole body twitched, and you arched your back, feeling erens warmth full you up.

he groaned one more time, pulling out and letting the rest of his cum hit your stomach. he kept his thumb in your still throbbing entrance to keep his cum from dripping on the bed.

you laid there, panting as he leaned off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and cleaning you up with it.

he fixed his pants, and you reached over to grab your underwear, putting them back on.

eren laid back on the bed, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom after doing your business.

you washed your hands, cut the light off and shut the door, making your way back over to eren, who was obviously still shirtless, and looking at you.

you crawled on top of him and grabbed his face, kissing him softly.

his hands slid down inside your underwear, moving your body against his.

"we gotta be closer." he said quietly. reaching and pulling off your tank top, only a bra showing.

he wrapped his arms back around you. his body was warm, mixing with the warmth of yours, you felt his heartbeat against your chest as you kissed him softly all over his face.

"you believe me now?" he asked, closing his eyes as you continued to kiss him.

you smiled. "I do."

[smokysr]

I LIKE U - S. R

pairing: fubu!spencer reid x afab!reader

content warning: +18. mdni. 3.3k words. oral (reader receiving). soft dom spencer. angry sex. raw. cowgirl. praise.

synopsis: in which you find yourself falling for your fuck buddy.

author's note: first smut </3 posting this in honor of undressed reaching 100 reads on wattpad!! woohoo

You never believed in love—not the kind that lasts, anyway. You’ve seen the way it destroyed people. Your parents. Your friends. Even your own failed attempts. Love has brought you nothing but pain. So you convinced yourself that it wasn't worth the trouble—that you were better off alone. It was safer that way. And for a while, you’ve never been happier.

Until Spencer Reid came along.

It was just harmless fun—or so you thought. You were bored, and this guy who wouldn't stop rambling off fun facts was really cute. The way his lips parted when he talked, the glasses that rested on the tip of his nose, and not to mention his eyes—the kind you could drown in without even realizing.

Just a taste. That’s all you needed from him.

Then another. And another. And another—until it became a routine.

Spencer knocking on your door, tangling himself in your sheets at least twice a week. Always leaving something that belonged to him—may it be his watch, his book, his hoodie, sometimes, even his glasses. And it was infuriating, the way he could just sweep you off your feet with a single look, mark you like a promise, and then disappear before you even woke up.

You don't even know when it started—the way your heart raced when you were together, or how you’d wait for a message from him, only to feel that familiar pang of disappointment when the notification wasn't from him.

And then it hit you.

You were falling for him. Hard.

It wasn't supposed to happen—it shouldn't have happened—but there you were, wanting more than what you bargained for.

Fuck.

Fuck.

But just like you, Spencer had his own walls. The reason this whole thing kept going was because neither of you believed in love. That was the unspoken rule. But the sex was good—too good, even. Raw. Hungry. Intimate. But always fleeting. As if he kept one foot out the door, ready to run the second things get too real.

Your eyes fluttered open when the sunlight peeked through the curtains. You reached for him, only to be greeted by the empty space on his side of the bed. Spencer was gone—only the imprint of where he slept remained, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered.

This was your set up. You should be used to it by now, but you couldn't deny the heavy feeling that settled on your chest every time you woke up to an empty bed.

You got out of bed and made your way down to the kitchen—where your eyes landed on a book on the counter.

Spencer’s, you thought. No one else in this apartment liked to read, unless your cat somehow learned how to.

As if fate were playing tricks on you, your phone buzzed.

A notification from Spencer.

Work called, I had to leave early. I left my book there when I was in a rush. I’ll pick it up later.

Your brows furrowed as you read his message, not even bothering to type out a reply. What were you going to say, anyway? He had your address memorized—he’d show up when he could.

─────────────────────────────

The sun started to set.

Spencer stood outside of your apartment, knocking on your door. Once. Twice. When it finally swung open, his eyes met yours. You stood there, unmoved. A moment of silence hung between you two.

“Hey,” his voice was softer than usual.

You held his gaze, “hey.”

Another pause.

“Can I come in?” He gestured inside as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh right—sorry,” you moved aside, waiting for him to step in.

Spencer didn't say anything else. He just looked around as if he hadn't already memorized every detail of your place.

“You got my text?” Spencer asked, trying to sound casual. “Mhm. Your book’s on the counter,” you hummed.

Your eyes met his—just for a second—before you looked away. “Thanks,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

The air was thick with unspoken tension.

Spencer walked over to the counter and picked up the book. He stared at it for a moment before slipping it into his bag.

“That’s all you came here for, right?” you said, not meaning for it to come out so bitter—but it did.

His gaze snapped to you. “What's that supposed to mean?”

You scoffed, turning away. “Nothing, forget about it.”

“No,” he said, voice firmer now. “Say it.”

You turned back to him. “I just think it's funny. Every time you show up, you leave something behind, send a one-line text, and suddenly that's enough.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed. “I didn't realize I needed to give you a full explanation every time I leave.”

“You don’t!” you snapped. “That’s the thing. You don’t. And yet—I still fucking wait for it.”

“This was supposed to be simple,” he hissed back.

“Then stop doing things to make it not simple, Spencer!” your voice broke, sharp. “Stop leaving your stuff here, stop calling me in the middle of the night, stop looking at me like—”

“Like what?”

A pause. Too long.

“Like I mean something to you!”

“I never asked for any of that,” you continued, voice not louder than a whisper. “I didn't ask to feel like this. You did that. You made me feel something and then acted like it meant nothing.”

Spencer stepped closer, something flickering in his eyes—anger, pain, and something that's been buried for too long.

“And what about you?” he shot back. “You think I don't notice? The way you push and pull like it’s a game and I’m supposed to—”

“Because I didn't know what else to do!”

Your chests were heaving now, breathing uneven and heavy.

“I don't know how to deal with this,” you whispered. “With you, with the way I—”

“Feel?” he said, almost mocking. “Say it.”

You shot him a glare. “You first.”

His fists clenched at his sides.

“Fuck it,” he cursed.

Then suddenly—his hand closed around your wrist, and he pulled you into him. His lips crashed onto yours—hot, angry, desperate. You gasped but he swallowed the sound.

The kiss wasn't soft. It was messy, intense, hungry. Like he’d spent months biting his tongue, and now the dam had broken. His free hand tangled in your hair, fingers curling tight as he pulled you closer. You could feel the tension under his skin—like he was afraid to let go.

He kissed you like he was drowning—and you were the only thing keeping him alive.

“I love you,” he murmured in between kisses—still rough, still sloppy, like he didn't know how to stop—not like he wanted to. “I fucking love you—”

His hands gripped your waist, lifting you and setting you on the counter like he needed you closer.

“And you have no idea.” He panted, forehead resting against yours, eyes burning into you—his voice low and ragged.

You didn't respond—not with words. You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back onto you, lips colliding with his, aggressive and unrelenting. Spencer deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting you like he’d been starving. The air was thick with desperation, the pretense falling away with every graze, every breathless moan between kisses.

His hands roamed—your thighs, your hips, your waist—as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you through his fingertips. And your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly, then harder when he bit your bottom lip.

His hands slipped under your shirt, trailing fire with every touch. He dragged the fabric up slowly, then pulled back just long enough to yank it over your head. His eyes roamed your body like he couldn't believe you were real.

“You drive me insane,” he whispered against your throat. His lips brushed your skin before he sucked hard enough to make you gasp, then scraped his teeth gently, making your breath hitch. “You always have.”

You tugged at his belt, fingers fumbling with urgency. “Then shut up and do something about it.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest—deep, primal—and he kissed you again, harder this time. His hands slid up your bare back, holding you like he didn't know how to let go.

He didn't bother taking off his shirt. He was too far gone. You were too much.

His hips ground into yours, and you felt him—hard, hot, and aching—through the soft fabric, the friction dizzying.

“I need you,” he rasped against your lips, each word laced with desperation. “Right now. Tell me I can.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “Yes,” you whispered. “God—yes.”

Spencer crashed his lips back onto yours, chasing the taste of you like a man undone. His hands gripped your hips tighter, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go—even for a second.

Your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt before slipping underneath, sliding the fabric over his head. You tossed it somewhere behind you, not caring where it landed.

Your touch trailed down his chest—slow, deliberate—until your hand cupped him through his slacks.

He grunted, brows furrowing, hips twitching at the contact.

You pressed your palm just enough to make him throb beneath the fabric, moving your hand in slow, torturous strokes.

“Don’t—” he gasped, voice breaking into a whimper. “Don’t tease.”

His hips bucked into your hand, seeking more.

Spencer reached down and wrapped his hand around your wrist—not rough, but firm. His eyes were dark and blown wide with need.

“Please,” he whimpered, breath ragged. “Don't make me wait anymore, baby.”

He guided your hand away, replacing it with his own touch between your thighs, fingers brushing you through your underwear. You gasped, hips bucking, and he groaned—like the sound had been punched from his chest. “God, you’re already wet,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You’ve been holding back too, haven’t you?”

You nodded, dizzy, but he shook his head gently.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Fuck—yes.”

His mouth was back on yours, slower now but just as hungry. His hands moved with purpose—tugging your underwear down, lips trailing heat down your neck as he pushed your legs apart.

“I’ve thought about this,” he confessed against your skin, voice breaking. “Every night. Every time I left.”

He looked up at you like he was on the edge of something. And then—

“Let me take care of you.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you without a word.

His hands rested on your thighs—warm, shaking slightly, but firm. He looked up at you, eyes dark and hungry, hair falling into his face.

“You okay?” he asked softly, even as he tugged your underwear down your legs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, breath already catching. “Please don’t.”

He smiled—just barely—before leaning forward and kissing the inside of your thigh. Slow. Reverent. Like worship. His hands spread your legs wider, his breath ghosting over where you needed him most.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ve missed you.”

And then—his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Unrelenting.

His tongue licked a slow stripe up your folds before circling your clit, light at first, teasing. You gasped, one hand flying to grip the edge of the counter, the other threading into his hair.

Spencer groaned the moment you pulled on it.

“You’re so sensitive,” he whispered, voice muffled between your thighs. “So fucking sweet.”

He sucked on your clit gently, then flicked it with his tongue, fingers digging into your hips to hold you still as your body jerked in response.

“You sound so pretty like this,” he breathed, pausing just long enough to kiss you again, slower now, savoring you. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

You moaned—louder this time—and he took it as permission to go deeper. He licked into you, slow and precise, like he was trying to learn everything that made you fall apart. His nose brushed your clit with every stroke of his tongue, and the pressure built fast—your thighs shaking, your breaths ragged, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“Spence—fuck—I’m gonna—”

He hummed against you, sending vibrations through your core.

“Go on, baby,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

You were close—so close—the tension rising like a tidal wave, seconds away from crashing. Your hand threaded into his curls, pushing his head down, pulling him closer to your core. Your hips bucked against his mouth as the pleasure overtook you—back arching, head tilting back, breath catching in your throat.

Spencer’s name tumbled from your lips like a prayer as you fell apart on his tongue.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “Come on. You can do it.”

You came on his tongue, and he didn’t let up—groaning like he’d been starving for it.

“Sh—shit Spence—”

You pulsed around nothing, legs trembling uncontrollably as he held you through it. Still, he kept going—lazily lapping at your clit while your body trembled from the aftershocks.

Then he slowed. Softened. Kissed the inside of your thigh with lips that lingered.

“There you go,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked. “Atta girl.”

“Fucking hell, Spence.” You gasped, chest heaving, reaching down to fist your hand in his hair and tug him up to face you.

And fuck—he was beautiful.

His curls were a mess, ears flushed pink, lips parted and glistening with your wetness. His eyes—dark, blown wide, starving—held nothing back. Just need. Raw and unfiltered.

You were still gasping when Spencer pulled you into another kiss—desperate like he hadn't just made your legs shake on the counter. His slender hands found their way around your waist, easily lifting you off the cold marble as legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

“Couch,” he grunted in your mouth. “I need—fuck—I need more.”

“Spence—” you started, but he was already moving.

You kissed him again to steady both of you, arms around his neck as he stumbled blindly toward the couch—shoulder bumping the wall, breath catching in your ear when he almost lost balance.

“I’ve got you,” he panted. “Promise.”

And he did—because the moment his knees hit the cushions, he dropped down with you in his lap, your bodies still tangled, your mouth still on his. You were already grinding against him, feeling him hard beneath you, and he cursed under his breath like the sound had been clawed out of his chest.

His hand found your ass, squeezing roughly as he guided your hips. Your hand tugged on the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down—just enough to free his cock, throbbing and flushed, precum already dripping at the tip.

You’d be lying if you said you weren't salivating at the sight of him all worked up. And it's all for you.

“Shit, Spence,” you breathed, running your thumb over the head, spreading the wetness just to watch him twitch.

He groaned—head thrown back, jaw clenched, hands twitching on your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

“You ready?” you whispered, already positioning yourself above him. Teasing the tip against your entrance.

He looked up at you like he was watching a goddess descend from the heavens.

“Please.”

Without saying another word, you sank down on him slowly—inch by inch—your nails digging into his shoulder as you clung to him for support.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he huffed, jaw clenched. “Keep going. You're doing so good for me.”

And god, as much as it hurt, you couldn't stop—not when he was whispering sweet praise into your skin like he meant every word.

“Sh-shit—” you gasped, breath stuttering. His eyes were locked into yours, dark and hazy with lust—watching you take all of him.

How you fit perfectly around his cock—like your sweet cunt was made just for him.

Spencer laced his fingers with yours, brought your hand to his lips, and kissed your knuckles softly.

“You okay?” he murmured—gentle, breathless.

You nodded, breathless. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “Just—don't look away.”

He didn't. He couldn't.

You started to move—slow, tentative at first. Testing the stretch. The burn. The way he filled you—thick, twitching, reaching parts of you that left your thighs trembling. Spencer’s hand slid down to your ass, squeezing gently, guiding your hips as he let you set the pace.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “You’re doing so good for me, angel.”

You moved your hips again—this time deeper, slower. The sounds of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, sticky and wet. His name left your lips in broken gasps every time your clit grazed against the base of him.

You found your rhythm—rolling your hips in tight circles that made his head fall back with a guttering groan. His hands gripped harder, jaw clenched, thighs tensing beneath you.

“F-fuck—just like that,” he panted.

You clenched around him.

He lost it.

Your nails raked up his chest, hands clutching his shoulders for balance as you bounced on his cock, chasing that sweet friction. That high he started the second he touched you on the counter.

Spencer’s lips met your throat, kisses growing messy—open-mouthed, greedy, uncoordinated. Then he sucked, hard, right beneath your jaw. You whimpered, head tilting back as the heat in your core swelled.

“Mine,” he whispered, dragging his tongue over the mark he made.

Spencer doesn’t believe in God. But he knows one thing—this must be what heaven feels like. No—this is heaven.

His eyes filled with lust, devouring you from beneath. The way your brows knit when you hit that one spot. The bounce of your tits. The broken, breathless moans spilling from your mouth like a prayer just for him.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered, voice hot against your neck. “Watching you ride me like that—fuck.”

Then he started thrusting up into you—harder. Deeper. His hips snapping up in time with yours, no longer letting you set the pace.

“Spence—” you gasped, nails digging into his back.

He fucked up into you again, and again—your body jolting with every thrust. You tried to keep up, but his thrusts had you cockdrunk—blissed out and trembling under every snap of his hips.

“Go on, baby,” he groaned, forehead against yours. “Take it—fuck, take all of it.”

Your moans were incoherent now, every drag of his cock inside you pulling another cry from you. His name left your lips like a prayer.

“Feels so good ‘round me,” he grunted. “So tight—so fucking wet. And it's all for me.”

You were so close—you could feel your whole body tightening, clenching around him, thighs shaking. He felt it.

“Gonna cum for me, angel?” he panted, voice hoarse.

“Spence—I—”

“Come on, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered in your ear, one final thrust hitting just right.

You shattered—moaning his name, thighs shaking, body jerking in his arms as your orgasm hit hard and fast. The way you clenched around him pushed him right over the edge.

“Shit—fuck—fuck, I’m—”

He came with a deep groan, hips grinding up into yours as he filled you, arms locked around your waist like you’d vanish if he let go.

Neither of you moved—forehead touching, breathing heavy, still wrapped around each other. The smell of sex and something more filled the room.

“I meant it,” Spencer held your face, eyes boring into yours. “I love you.”

His mouth crashed into yours with a gentle kiss, a contrast from his earlier roughness.

“You haven't even asked me out properly yet,” you pulled away.

Spencer let out a laugh, voice hoarse. Finding your little comment endearing.

“Then,” his voice trailed. “May I take you out on a date?”

“Only if you say please.”

He looked at you with doe eyes, “please?”

You leaned in, giving him a quick peck. “I love you,” you whispered—like it was a secret only he deserved to know.

Spencer looked stunned, “I—you—”

“You didn't give me the chance to say it earlier,” you said, melting into his arms, resting your forehead against his. “But I do. I really do.”

His lips curled into a smile. And for the first time in a long time—everything just felt right.

Like maybe, just maybe, love was worth the risk after all.