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wosospacegirl · 2 days ago

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Mallorca - part 2

Summary: Alexia ruins your couple's vacation by inviting the girls to tag along with you. You decide to make her pay for it. - This time with sex

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: (+18) dom/sub dynamics, power play, oral (r giving and receiving), fingering and spanking (r giving), strap (r receiving), scisorring.

A/n: I think you'll have a better experience if you read part 1 first

Alexia was very well behaved during dinner.

If you were feeling generous, you might think it was because she was trying to be a good girlfriend.

She was holding proper conversations with everyone (instead of being her usual grumpy self), telling the waitress your exact order, and she was even pulling the chair out for you.

A complete gentlewoman.

But you weren't naive. You weren't a fool. You knew what Alexia wanted.

You weren't planning to make her work for it. No. You were planning to (very willingly) pleasure her, give her all your attention as soon as dinner was over, and you two were back in the villa's room.

But in Alexia's mind, it seemed like she thought she had to be on her very best behaviour to earn her orgasms.

You liked her like that. Compliant. Polite. Eager. Especially after she had ruined your couple's vacation by bringing the girls along.

So you didn't say anything. You barely spared her a glance as she talked to Jana and Bruna about football things you didn't understand.

You ignored Alexia when Patri asked you about your work. You even slapped her hand away when she tried to place it on your thigh from under the table.

You didn't mind the slight pout that formed on her face as she pretended not to care.

You enjoyed how she proceeded to ask if you wanted her to fill your glass of juice. As if she wanted to please you. She grabbed the juice jar and did it without even letting you answer.

So polite!

Alexia wasn't like that. She wasn't restless. But right now, her legs were shaking, her feet tapping against the ground annoyingly, her hands idle, as if they had no purpose if they weren't touching you. Which they weren't. You didn't let her.

You caught her looking at you sometimes, as if she was ready to speak, but she didn't have the courage to let the words out.

Even the girls noticed how dizzy she seemed. How… distracted.

You wanted to be mean tonight. Not cruel, though.

You were still going to keep your promise of making Alexia come and let her strap you. But first, you wanted to have a little fun.

Bruna asked you what the hell you actually did as a lawyer, and you were suddenly very engaged in the conversation. You explained how you specialised in sports law, how you worked for the federation, taking care of all the bureaucracy.

The girls watched you with interest, but not as much interest as Alexia, who had heard you explain this probably a dozen times before, and still didn't look bored.

While you were talking, your palm fell onto Alexia's thigh, over her long dress. She froze next to you, but tried to keep her composure.

"I don't have to go to court much, no," you explained to Jana. "I do most of the research and the paperwork… I work behind the scenes."

Your hand trailed higher. Alexia was rigid under your touch.

Poor thing. You weren't even touching her skin yet (just the fabric of her dress), but you could feel her shiver; you could bet the fine hairs on her legs were standing up.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, and Alexia followed.

You pretended not to notice her steps, but when you went to close the single-stall bathroom, her hand appeared, keeping it open just enough for her to slip in.

"Amor," she whined, taking a step closer and trapping you between her body and the sink. She nuzzled her nose against your temple, her warm breath on your skin. "Let's go back to our room, sí?"

You let her kiss your neck, your body soft against hers.

"Don't be rude, Ale," you said. "We're here with your teammates, remember? The ones you invited? We need to spend time with them."

You wanted to punish her. Just a little.

"They can stay here, finish their dinner," Alexia said, hands gripping your hips and pushing you even further into the sink. "And we can go. Por favor?"

You wanted it too, so much. You were wet for her, had been since Alexia had guided your fingers into her cunt, showing you how desperate she was.

Maybe you could let yourself have a little fun. Maybe you could be a little mean.

"Get on your knees and make me come," you said bluntly. "And then I'll think about leaving dinner early."

Alexia clearly wasn't expecting it. Her mouth fell open, but it didn't take long before she helped you up onto the sink, your hands holding onto the sink as she got on her knees.

For someone who liked to be in control so much, Alexia was very keen to follow orders.

"Okay, amor," she murmured, spreading your legs open, exposing you. "Te amo, te amo," she whispered as she kissed from your calf up to your thigh.

"Hurry, Alexia," you said sternly. "Can't leave your teammates waiting."

Alexia let out a sound that could only be classified as a whine.

She pressed her face to your underwear, breathing you in, licking you through the fabric.

You were ready to tell her to hurry up again, but she was faster, quickly hooking the fabric aside with her fingers.

Your hands instinctively went to her head, tugging lightly at her hair as her tongue licked from your hole all the way to your clit. Her tongue was warm, her spit mixing with your own wetness.

She dragged her tongue over you once more before focusing on your clit. Alexia liked to taste you, to fuck you with her tongue, but she needed to be fast, and she knew it.

Her hands gripped your thighs, and you were sure they would leave marks, but you didn't care. You didn't care about anything.

Her lips latched around your clit, and you saw stars. She didn't take her mouth off you.

Not when you begged for a break. Not when your thighs closed around her head and you were sure she would suffocate from the lack of air.

She didn't stop even when someone knocked on the bathroom door five times.

She didn't stop until you came on her tongue, mumbling things neither of you could understand.

She only stopped when you pushed her hair back harshly. Alexia looked up at you with a pout.

Her face was completely wet, a mess of your orgasm all over her. Her brows were furrowed, as if she couldn't understand why you would take her meal away.

"It's enough, Alexia," you said, breathless, your cheeks flushed from the intensity of your orgasm.

"What?" she asked softly. "No good? I can be better, sí? I'll try again," she said, pulling your hand away from her hair and placing her face right back to your cunt.

"Ale—" you started, but she cut you off with her tongue, swirling around your clit again.

You wanted to come again. God, you wanted it so much. But you knew it would send you into a completely different head space, one you wanted Alexia to be in, not you.

You yanked her hair, hard enough to make it hurt on purpose.

She whimpered as you pulled her face from between your legs, your grip firm, not releasing her even as her eyes filled with tears.

"What did I tell you?" you asked slowly, dangerously calm.

Alexia stayed silent, staring at you like the words were stuck in her throat.

She looked so conflicted, so needy… it made you want to take her back to the room, make her come, kiss her until she was wet and ready for you again.

You wanted to spoil her. But she wasn't helping herself. And you weren't one to reward bad behaviour.

"What. Did. I. Tell. You." You leaned down until your face was inches from hers, her eyes never leaving you, as if she were bewitched.

"Yo-you said it was enough," she whispered.

"So why did you put your mouth on me again, if I said it was enough?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered, eyes looking around the bathroom as if searching for an answer. "Perdón… I-I'm confused."

She really looked confused… like a lost puppy.

"Then you better get your mind right," you said. "Do you understand me? Or else you go to sleep with your cunt wet and needy, and I won't give you anything."

"P-pardon…" she whimpered, tears falling down her cheek.

You cupped the back of her head, pulling her face closer. You stuck your tongue out and licked her tears.

She froze, solid on the bathroom floor.

You moved your mouth to her ear. "Your tears are so sweet, preciosa. Makes me think your pussy must be just as sweet. You wouldn't deny me my pussy, right?"

Alexia shook her head, eyes wide.

"Good," you said condescendingly, patting her cheek. "So you're going to behave and do what I say?"

Another eager nod.

"Perfecta." You kissed her lips softly. "Can you remind me of your colours, Ale?"

It took her a moment to understand. For someone who captained club and country, Alexia could be surprisingly slow when she was feeling subby.

"Red, yellow, and green," she recited slowly, as if remembering was hard.

You kissed her again. "And can you tell me your colour now?"

"Green," she said, quicker this time.

"Great." You kissed her nose.

You slid off the sink, trying to steady yourself while Alexia stayed kneeling. You washed your hands, then leaned over, tugging her hair so she had to look up at you.

"I'm going back to dinner. You pull yourself together and join us, sí?"

Alexia nodded.

"Words, Alexia," you said.

"Sí, sí," she replied quickly. "I'm going."

"Muy bien, preciosa," you said, kissing her forehead before quickly fixing her messy hair. "Don't take too long. I'll be waiting for you."

You walked back to the table, leaving Alexia behind in the bathroom. You took a deep breath, trying to look like someone who hadn't just came in a restaurant bathroom.

You were good at acting, so the girls didn't say anything when you sat down, probably because the food had already arrived.

Five minutes later, Alexia sat on the chair next to you.

She, on the other hand, didn't have the same skill. Her eyes were distant, her mind clearly somewhere else. They were still a little red from tears, but to anyone who didn't know her, it could easily be mistaken for allergies.

The girls were chatting with each other. You chimed in here and there, between bites.

Alexia stayed quiet. Different from before, she wasn't ignoring anyone on purpose; she just… wasn't there.

You didn't want her mind drifting. Not when she was surrounded by people. Her foggy, submissive head space was for your eyes, and your eyes only.

You watched her eat very slowly. You placed a hand on her thigh, the same spot as before, your thumb brushing her skin above the fabric of the dress.

You were trying to bring her back, to keep her with you.

She looked at you, surprise on her face. She hesitated, but then she placed her hand over yours.

You felt her warm, slightly sweaty hand trembling, so you wrapped your fingers around hers, grounding her there for a few minutes.

You glanced at the girls, still pretty much engrossed in Bruna's phone screen. They wouldn't mind you two now.

You carefully leaned your head against Alexia's shoulder, kissing the spot where her neck met her clavicle.

You kissed her skin softly. It was a sweet kiss, not teasing, but Alexia still shivered.

"You're being very good to me, mi amor," you murmured, keeping your eyes down, not looking at her, focusing on your intertwined hands. "Gonna do everything I promised you, sí?"

"S-sí," Alexia answered, her voice in that small tone that told you everything you needed to know. She was exactly where you wanted her.

"Do you wanna go now?" you asked, placing another kiss. "Or do you want dessert?"

She thought for a second. "I don't want it, b-but… you said you wanted to eat the cheesecake."

You looked up at her and smiled. Such a good girl she was. "You just want to see me happy, huh?"

She nodded. "Muy happy."

"I think…" your fingertip traced up and down her arm, "that I'm craving something else, preciosa. I think you are, too."

"Sí," Alexia said, almost out of breath. The words were caught in her throat as your hand slipped under her dress. "A-amor… qué? oh—"

You touched her through her underwear. Poor Alexia was soaked, the wet spot obvious even without you having to look at it.

"Oh, my baby," you said, faking empathy. "Eating me out made you this wet?"

Your voice was low enough that no one else could hear. The girls were too caught up in whatever Bruna was showing them.

But still, Alexia's eyes looked around nervously between the girls and the rest of the restaurant.

"Talk to me, Alexia," you said, your tone dry.

"Sí, amor," she whispered, a pout forming on her face. "I want you so much."

Without warning, you pushed her underwear aside and sank two fingers into her cunt.

Her mouth immediately formed an ‘O' before she snapped it shut, trying not to make a sound. to keep herself together.

Her hand gripped the chair, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

"I love you, mi amor," you murmured against her neck. "So much."

"Te amo," she said, though it sounded like she was just repeating whatever you said.

You thrust your fingers a few times, just enough to feel her tightness and wetness around you, to feel her clenching.

When you noticed her body starting to tremble with need, you withdrew your fingers, taking her underwear with you.

She looked at you with wide eyes as you leaned slightly to slip the panties down her legs and into your purse.

"You won't need those when we get back to the hotel," you said with a calm smile, as if you were just talking about the weather.

She only nodded, still breathing unevenly.

The waitress came for the payment, and the girls finally looked up from the phone. Patri and Jana were talking about how to split the bill, but Alexia suddenly placed her black credit card on the table.

"Here. J-just put everything on this," she said.

"No, Ale, it's oka—" Bruna began, but Alexia interrupted her.

"No," she said, already standing and moving behind your chair, pulling it out for you.

She grabbed your hand (her palm was clammy) and started tugging you toward the exit of the restaurant.

"You niñas use the card to pay for the meal and… go do something. Anything," she said, her voice rising slightly as the two of you walked away. "Get ice cream or- I don't know…. It's on me!"

The girls just stared, confused. You, on the other hand, just chuckled. You loved desperate Alexia. It made you want to devour her.

And you did.

When you reached the villa's room, the poor girl didn't know what to do with herself.

She closed the door and immediately turned to you, big, eager eyes waiting for orders.

Slowly, you walked to the bed and sat on the edge. You curled your finger, calling her closer, and she obeyed.

"Do you wanna get on your knees, preciosa?"

Alexia nodded, kneeling for the second time today at your feet.

You cupped her jaw, taking a moment to admire the beautiful colour of her eyes, the shape of her nose, and the shape of her mouth.

"Mi niña bonita," you murmured, turning her jaw slightly, as if inspecting something valuable. She let you do whatever you wanted.

"Can you tell me what you want to do tonight? Or do you want me to decide everything for you?" you asked gently.

She was so far gone, you already knew the answer.

"Want you to think about everything," she said, her eyes locked on yours.

"Okay, Ale," you said. Your thumb pressed her chin, opening her mouth.

You leaned forward and spit directly onto her tongue. She stayed like that for a moment, mouth open.

"You can swallow, bebé," you said.

She did.

"Do I taste good?"

"S-sí," she said, nodding almost desperately. "Very good."

"Then why don't you eat me out again? If I taste that good."

Her eyes looked up at you, then her gaze dropped to your thighs. You parted your legs and lifted your dress, showing yourself to her.

"Take my underwear off," you told her.

With shaky fingers, she slid them down. She stared at your cunt like she hadn't just had a meal.

As soon as Alexia licked you, it was like the bathroom all over again. She was desperate, but you weren't sure exactly why.

Did she just want to taste you? Did she want to be good? Or the two weeks without having sex turned her mind into an animalistic version of itself?

She ate you out like it was the last thing she was ever going to do.

She dragged her tongue through your wet folds, spreading your slick, then thrust her tongue into your hole before focusing on your clit, wrapping her lips around it and sucking deliciously.

Alexia wasn't teasing you. She was honestly doing everything she could to make you come fast.

You held her head against your cunt, keeping her there, afraid she might pull away, but with how hungry she was, that probably wasn't going to happen.

You closed your eyes, focusing on her warm breath against your pussy, her (very skilled) tongue giving your clit so much attention it almost made you want to cry.

It didn't take long before your heart started racing, for your breathing to become shallow.

Your legs trembled around her shoulders, and then you came. It was one of the best orgasms of your life.

This time, when you told her it was enough, Alexia stayed perfectly still, looking up at you, her face a mess, waiting for her next order.

From the way she stared, you knew she would happily eat you out all night if you let her.

"Come here, my love," you said, and she got up on her feet.

She was taller than you, but with you sitting on the bed, her puppy expression was anything but intimidating.

"Strip for me," you said simply, as you undressed yourself too, so you were completely naked in front of her.

Alexia eagerly obeyed, and her dress fell to the bedroom floor. She stood naked before you.

Your eyes looked up and down her body, at her firm abdomen, at her strong arms, her thighs … fuck, her thighs.

You placed your hands on her waist and brought her closer. She let out a tiny, surprised sound, and she didn't hesitate this time .

You leaned forward, kissing her stomach, licking every bit of skin you could reach.

"Pretty. Mi niña bonita, all mine," you murmured against her warm skin.

You glanced up at Alexia. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open; she was just letting you worship her. Your heart softened at the sight.

She was always so good to you, such a good girlfriend, hardworking, devoted, and now completely trusting you to do whatever you wanted with her body.

Your hands cupped her breasts, twisting her nipples. They were so hard. You licked one before wrapping your lips around it and sucking.

"Amor," Alexia whined, leaning into you, like she needed you to take more of her, as if it was physically possible. "I-it's so good…"

You kept sucking her tits, noticing how her thighs were slightly parted.

Your hand slid to her ass, and you grabbed a handful of soft skin, making her moan, then you pulled her closer to you. One hand stayed on her ass as the other cupped her c.unt.

"Your pussy is so pretty," you said, rubbing your thumb over her clit, holding her still as her thighs began to shake. "And all mine."

"Yours… please—" she whined. "More, baby. Please?"

She was so wet that her inner thighs were a mess. You kissed her navel before sliding two fingers into her pussy.

Alexia moaned (the prettiest sound you had ever heard).

Her hips rocked with your fingers, and when you looked up at her, she was a goddess: her cheeks were red, her eyes shut… she was biting her lip. All yours.

Alexia was all yours.

You kept thrusting until her legs trembled harder, and you were sure she wouldn't be able to stand much longer.

"Ale," you said, slowing your fingers. "Go lie on the bed for me. On your back. Spread open, okay?"

She nodded, and you pulled your fingers out. She lay back clumsily, and her legs spread the moment her back hit the mattress.

You crawled on top of her, meeting her eyes. You smiled, then kissed her lips in a deep, messy kiss, tongues and saliva were all over the place.

You could taste yourself on her mouth, and you didn't stop until you were both breathless.

"Hold your tongue out for me," you murmured.

Alexia obeyed, her tongue out and still. You wrapped your lips around it, sucking, and her hips started to rut against your body.

You pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your mouths. You kissed her gently before pressing your hands together.

"You can come whenever you want to, sí?"

Alexia's eyes widened, like she couldn't believe it. "Gracias, mi amor… gracias," she mumbled, like she was praying.

You kissed your way down her body, sucking one nipple into your mouth on your way down, then you licked her abdomen, stopping at her navel.

She was completely spread out for you.

You could see every detail of her pussy…. her folds glistening, her clit puffy and demanding attention, her hole clenching and begging to be filled. Even the birthmark on her inner thigh that you had kissed countless times.

You used two fingers to spread her lips open and smiled when a soft whine came out of Alexia's mouth. Her clit was so red and sensitive that you pressed a kiss to it.

Then you grabbed her hands, which were clenching the blanket, and placed them over her cunt.

She looked at you in surprise but didn't question you.

"Touch yourself for me," you said.

Without breaking eye contact, she brought her middle finger to her clit, rubbing side to side, her body twitching already. You watched, completely mesmerised by her.

Her poor cunt was clenching, there was slick everywhere, but she was only focusing on her clit.

"Finger yourself, preciosa," you instructed. "Let me see you."

"O-okay," she panted. One hand rubbed her clit, and the other pushed two fingers inside herself.

It always amazed you how long her fingers were. She reached deep inside, and every time she pulled out, her fingertips glistened with wetness.

You couldn't just watch anymore. You straddled Alexia, hovering above her without sitting down.

She looked confused, but you told her to keep going, not to stop, to just focus on herself.

Your hand went to your own pussy, rubbing your clit, your fingers brushing hers as she touched herself.

You wanted to watch her face, but the sight between her legs was too heavenly to look away from.

You picked up your pace as Alexia's tells gave her away… her trembling thighs, her irregular breath, her soft whimpers.

"Amor," she mumbled (barely coherent), words clumsy in her mouth. "I-I—"

"I know, Ale," you said, closing your eyes as your own orgasm built. "Be my sweet girl and come for me, baby. Come right here."

Less than a minute later, both of you were coming.

Alexia's whole body went rigid, every muscle became stiff as she came. You, in contrast, went completely soft, melting into her as if your muscles had given up working.

You collapsed on Alexia's chest, feeling her shallow breaths against your shoulder as you tried to come back to reality.

Your ear rested on her heart, and you listened to her heartbeat slowly settling. Alexia wrapped her arms around you and kissed your neck gently.

You wanted to talk to her, but there was no energy left in your body. So you did what felt natural; you began rutting softly against her.

When you moved, your pussies stayed pressed together, wetness mixing between you.

You kissed Alexia's shoulder, moving your hips lazily. The angle wasn't perfect(your clits were barely touching ), but the friction was delicious.

Alexia grabbed your hips, guiding the rhythm.

You wanted to slap her hand away, remind her who was in charge, but she was so far gone you knew she wasn't trying to control; she was just needy, horny.

Your hardened nipples brushed against hers, sending shivers through your body.

You didn't know what time it was, you didn't know how long it lasted, you only knew that both of you came again.

This time, Alexia let out a soft cry. You looked at her face and saw tears running down her cheeks.

"What's wrong, pretty girl?" you asked gently. "Tell me your colour, sí?"

Alexia opened her eyes slowly; she looked very dizzy. "G-green… just-feeling confused."

You pouted, this time without teasing. You kissed her lips.

"What about you fuck me nice and good, and then we go to bed? Does that sound good?"

Alexia nodded.

"Do you want me to put the strap on for you? Or can you do it yourself?"

"Don't… think I can," she admitted softly. "Want you to do it."

You kissed her forehead before sliding off the bed. "Okay, mi amor."

Your legs ached from the orgasms, and wetness was dripping down your thighs; you couldn't even tell whose wetness it was anymore, if it was yours or Alexia's.

You knelt by the suitcase, pulling out the strap and dildo.

When you returned, Alexia was still lying down, so you asked her to kneel on the bed. You secured the harness around her hips, adjusting the dildo in place.

"Looking so pretty," you murmured as you tightened the last strap. "So well-behaved today. I'm so proud of you."

In any other situation, you would have laughed: Alexia was blushing, actually blushing. After everything tonight, she still blushed, eyes dropping to the mattress shyly.

"I want you to do exactly what I say, okay?" you said, already getting into position.

You lowered yourself on all fours, there was a pillow under your chest, as you let your arms fall softly on your side, so only your ass was up.

"Fuck me good, baby." You told her.

You closed your eyes, your face squished into the pillows. You heard Alexia shifting behind you.

She was taking longer than usual; normally, she would be in a hurry, but not tonight. Tonight, she was gentle.

But you didn't want gentle right now.

Alexia leaned over you, dropping part of her weight onto your back. She kissed the back of your neck tenderly, her tongue audacious against your skin.

You parted your legs, hoping the hint would make her move faster…but she didn't.

"You smell so good," she said in a small voice, and you felt a little guilty for wanting to rush her (but not that guilty.)

"Alexia, be good to me," you said, turning your head to catch her eyes. "Fuck me, mi preciosa. Go on." Your patience was already wearing thin.

Alexia pressed one last kiss to your neck before settling on her knees. Dopamine had completely taken over her body.

She just wanted to please you, to worship you.

Her entire mind was you. You, and only you.

It was like she was part of you. Like the two of you were made to stay like this forever: skin to skin, tangled up.

She wanted to see you smile, to watch you come, to make you happy.

She wanted to kiss you, and she wanted you to kiss her.

Alexia didn't usually let herself get like this. She liked to be in control, to be the fixer, the steady one, always one step ahead.

The one to set the rules, to make sure you followed her. But tonight, it felt good to let go. To not think. To listen and obey. To be good. To be well-behaved.

You wanted the strap, and Alexia was going to give it to you( exactly how you liked) because she was, indeed, a very good girl. She would do anything you asked.

Alexia's eyes dropped to your pussy. It was just like hers: wet, messy, and practically shining between your thighs.

Her own cunt clenched. Maybe it was the endorphins, maybe exhaustion, but she barely felt her own body anymore…only need.

Alexia leaned down and kissed the bottom of your back before her hands found your ass, spreading you. She kissed and licked every bit of skin she could touch until she reached your clit.

"Alexia," you said sternly, turning your head. "How many times do I have to say it? Are you going to fuck me, or do you want punishment?"

The word punishment sent a red light flashing in Alexia's mind. She didn't want punishment. She was being good.

She was just loving you… why punishment?

She thought she was doing the right thing, preparing you for the strap, making sure you were wet enough.

"No punishment," Alexia said, fighting a pout.

You turned fully around. Your brow was furrowed, your jaw locked in a painful way.

You grabbed the harness at her hips, tugging hard enough that she stumbled forward.

You caught her by the waist so she wouldn't fall on top of you.

"Just because you have this on your hips," you said, yanking the strap just for emphasis, "doesn't mean you're in control. Do you understand that?"

Alexia nodded, tears beginning to shine in her eyes. "I just wanted to get you ready—"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed her hand before guiding her fingers inside you. Her finger slid in with almost no resistance. You were absolutely dripping.

"Do I look ready enough?"

Alexia gulped, keeping her fingers in you. "Sí…"

You held her jaw, making her look deep into your eyes. "I told you to give me the strap. Not to kiss me. Not to tease me."

"Perdón," Alexia whispered.

"Who's in control?"

"You, mi amor."

"Who knows better?"

"You," she repeated.

"Then you better do what I ask."

"Sí. I'll do whatever you want. So sorry, amor," she whispered.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing her tears away.

"I don't like it when you don't listen to me." You pressed that same thumb to her mouth, making her open up, before placing it on her tongue.

She wrapped her lips around it, sucking while staring at you.

"One time, you're perfectly behaved," you murmured, "and the next, you don't listen." You pouted at her, just enough to make her squirm.

"Perdón, I—oww!" Alexia winced as your palm smacked her ass. It stung your own hand too; you were sure it was going to leave a mark.

"Count," you ordered, keeping her on her knees in front of you.

You spanked her ten times. By the fifth, Alexia was a crying mess, mumbling about being sorry, about wanting to be good.

But Alexia wasn't the only one in a special head space.

You were in a dom space… now you were all about being heard, being obeyed. It felt strange, but good.

When the last slap landed on her skin, you kissed her tears away. "What colour, mi amor?" you whispered against her wet cheek.

"Green," she sniffled softly.

"Good." You massaged her ass, ignoring how the strap nudged your stomach. You wanted the strap a lot, but you didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Ale, look at me," you said, cupping her jaw. "Do you want to stop? Want me to make us a bath?"

"No," she answered instantly, the fastest reply she had given all night. "I want to use it on you. Please. I promise I'll listen this time."

"Do you?" you pressed. "Do you really promise you'll be good?"

Another eager nod. "Sí. Te prometo."

You patted her cheek and turned around, getting back into position. "Then you can do whatever you want, preciosa."

Alexia kept her promise.

She filled you completely. You were so wet that she slid in with no resistance.

She pressed almost her entire weight onto your back and began thrusting into you, murmuring in your ear about how good you felt.

You could barely speak. Her warmth, her presence, her weight… it was overwhelming.

You felt so full, you had waited weeks for this: to have Alexia to yourself, to be fucked by her, filled up, loved and cared for.

The strap was so deep, hitting you perfectly. Her breathing against your neck made your eyes roll back.

"I wanna hold hands," Alexia said shyly, and your heart melted.

"Here, bebé," you breathed, reaching for her hands. She laced her fingers with yours as she kept pounding into you.

Her thrusts were hard and fast, but the kisses she pressed to your spine were tender, gentle, her way of telling you how much she had missed you, too.

"Good, Ale... like that," you moaned, feeling full, feeling hers. "Fuck, baby…"

Alexia kept moving, the base of the strap brushing her clit. She was close; you both were.

Your body felt everything at once. Her weight. Her warmth. The sound of the strap sliding in and out of your cunt. And then the the rise of your orgasm coming, and… something more too.

You let go of Alexia's hands, gripping her forearms. "Alexia, I'm—"

Alexia thrust twice before she came with a whimper in your ear, and your own orgasm ran through your body as well.

Your pussy clenched around the strap. You felt as if your whole body was shutting down.

You closed your eyes, hearing Alexia murmur something you couldn't even register.

When you opened them again, you didn't know how many minutes had passed. Alexia was still on top of you, the strap snug inside.

She was kissing your cheek softly.

"Open your eyes, bebé," she whispered, until you did.

You felt the strap again, but now it was too much. You shifted your hips, trying to get it out.

"I-I don't want—" you mumbled, and Alexia understood immediately.

"I'm pulling out, don't worry," she said, voice so sleepy you wondered if she might pass out right there.

Alexia watched carefully as she slid the strap from you. If she hadn't just come, she would have wanted to go again, but her mind was fuzzy, her ass still stung, and you looked completely wrecked.

She was sure you would both sleep until midday.

Alexia wasn't usually one to leave things lying or throw around, but tonight, she let the strap and dildo fall somewhere on the floor. That was tomorrow's problem.

She collapsed beside you, face first into the mattress, with one arm wrapping around your back. "Are you okay?" she asked, voice hoarse.

"I'm the one who should be asking that," you said, smiling at her. "I'm not the one who took a spanking."

"Let's not talk about that…" Alexia groaned, burying her face in the pillow.

You slid closer to her, almost on top of her, kissing the side of her head. "Come on, don't be embarrassed. We have done worse."

Alexia always got shy after letting herself be more submissive. You didn't understand why; you never felt embarrassed after subbing.

"You were perfect for me," you purred in her ear. "Thanks for letting me take control." You playfully bit her earlobe before slipping out of bed.

If Alexia had been trying to look tough, the moment your warmth left her side, she whined…actually whined. "Nooo. Come back."

"Just getting the oil for you," you explained, going to the suitcase.

"I don't want it," she grumbled, still face-down, she probably hadn't moved because her ass was still sore.

"I didn't ask if you wanted it," you said. "I told you I'm getting it."

When you came back to the bed and began applying the oil, Alexia opened her mouth to argue, but the second the cold liquid touched her skin, her whole body relaxed.

Guilt filled your chest. "Was it… too rough? The spanking?"

Alexia shook her head against the pillow, then turned to face you.

"No, bebé, don't worry." She smiled and reached out, brushing your cheek with her thumb. "I enjoyed myself. I mean it. If it was too much, I would have told you."

You smiled softly. "Okay."

You massaged her skin until Alexia complained about how long you were taking; you rolled your eyes before finally curling into her side. She wrapped her arm around you.

"I need to change the sheets," you muttered.

"No…" she mumbled, half-asleep.

"They're drenched," you tried again.

"And they'll stay that way until morning."

"Are you really going to sleep on wet sheets?"

"Just like you said… we have done worse."

You wanted to argue, but your eyelids were heavy. So you let them close. Just for a minute. You would. wake up and change them soon… just five minutes.

A/n: had a lot of fun writing this hehe. hope u guys liked it too?

Tag list: @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee @miaereen

#woso #woso x reader #woso fanfic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas x reader #aleixa putellas #woso smut #wlw writing #wlw fanfic #wlw smut

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navybrat817 · 10 hours ago

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Accidentally on Purpose

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You barely have to touch Bucky to get him hard, and you decide to have some fun with it.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Dirty talk, grinding, dry humping, masturbation, implied unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), mention of oral sex (f. receiving), possessive behavior, bit of dom and sub vibes, bit of praise, slight feels, confident reader, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and sensitive thanks to the serum, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by a wonderful nonnie. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was an accident the first time it happened; a slight brush against Bucky when you squeezed between him and Yelena to walk down the hall.

“Excuse me,” you said, flashing a beautiful smile at Bucky when he went ramrod straight. He was thankful that you missed how comically wide his eyes were before you went on your way.

“Excuse me,” he repeated, bolting in the opposite direction before Yelena could stop him or say anything.

He had his hand down his pants the moment he was alone and it only took him picturing your beautiful smile again before he came, biting his lip and holding back a moan.

Having an erection was a natural reaction to stimulation, but one small touch from you and he practically erupted like a volcano. It was fucking ridiculous.

And it was all thanks to the serum.

It had enhanced his strength and senses, which helped in many situations. It was also a minor inconvenience since it made his cock more sensitive than he thought possible.

It wasn’t that he didn’t utilize mental and physical techniques to help maintain some sort of control, but his dick didn’t care about any of that when it involved you. He wanted you so badly that his cock straight to attention, begging to bury itself in one of your holes.

That was the reason why he tried not to touch you unless he had to. He didn’t want to freak you out.

What he didn’t know was that you knew exactly how he responded to you from that accidental brushing.

And you? Well, you fucking loved it.

“Hey, Bucky!” you called out from the kitchen sometime later. “You mind helping me for a sec?”

Like a dog ready to play fetch, he dropped whatever he was doing to join you. Of course, he tried to play it cool when he strolled into the kitchen.

His brain proceeded to shut down when he saw you by the stove wearing an apron and heels… and nothing else. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, the fabric covering everything he so desperately wanted to touch, and he couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to his cock.

You wiggled your fingers in a flirty wave and held yourself with such steady confidence that his knees went weak. Judging by your smirk, the tent he sported impressed you.

And, fuck, he could smell your arousal from where he stood. Sweet and tangy, he could taste it on his tongue, and he twitched with need.

“Is that for me?” you asked sweetly, pointing to his crotch before beckoning him over. “I sure hope so.”

Walking with a hard-on wasn’t easy, but he made it work so he could join you. “You… you want it?” he asked, dizzy from the way his blood kept flowing from his cock to his head and back again.

Before he could reach out and touch you, you positioned yourself between him and the stove. “I do,” you replied, his heart pounding in his ears. “And I don’t care who knows it.”

As much as Bucky wanted everyone to know, the possessive part of him didn’t want anyone to walk in and see you like this. “Really?”

“Really,” you smiled. That made his chest swell with pride. “But first things first…”

He gasped when you bent down, pretending to look into the oven as you pushed your hips back and gave him the perfect view of your ass. “Fuck…” he whimpered, holding onto you but making no move to stop you.

“You got hard when I brushed against you. It was an accident,” you explained, slowly grinding and getting the front of his pants all wet. “But this? This is all on purpose.”

“I was. You touched me and I almost saw fireworks,” he blurted out. He didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed. “Fuck me.”

“We’ll get to that later,” you said, setting your rhythm and entrancing him. Was he dreaming? “How sensitive is that big cock of yours?”

Bucky inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. He wanted to take himself out and thrust so hard and deep into you that you’d scream. “It’s very sensitive.”

So sensitive that if you wrapped your lips around him or if he pushed into your warm pussy he’d lose all control. He wouldn’t always blow his load so quickly, but he knew it would happen.

You ground your hips a little harder. “The serum?” you guessed, moving like you were born to seduce him. “Is that why you’re always so close, but you don’t touch me?”

Bucky didn’t realize you noticed. He didn’t know that someone as amazing as you paid that much attention to him.

“Yeah,” he said through his teeth, trying to think of anything and everything so he wouldn’t let go. But you were there, wet and grinding on him, taking over his mind and senses.

“Do you get that hard with anyone else?” you asked, a hint of possessiveness in your tone that he seemed to like. Were you jealous at the idea of him getting instantly hard with someone else?

As much as he thought about teasing you, he didn’t want that to backfire. He could test that another time, if there was another time.

“Just you,” he admitted, flexing his fingers and bracing himself when you stopped moving. Why did you stop? “You’re the only one I want.”

It was there, out in the open, making the tension between you two so much thicker. It was beautiful relief and torture when you moaned and began to move again.

“That’s what I want to hear,” you said, giving him a sultry gaze over your shoulder. “And I want you to come in your pants for me.”

“You want me to…” His blown pupils almost drowned out the blue of his eyes. It was like you reached into his brain and pulled out one of his fantasies. “Do-”

“Don’t you dare call me ‘doll’, Bucky Barnes,” you ordered, stopping your hips again and making his breath stutter. “I’m not just a random girl, so you will give me a term of endearment that is special.”

“Please, don’t stop,” he whined, torn between maintaining control and letting it all go. His body felt so stiff and he needed that release. “I’ll think of something special,” he added hastily, but it was a promise.

You were right. You weren’t just some random girl, and you only deserved the best from him.

“Oh, I know you will because you’re a good man. You’re so good,” you cooed, drawing a needy moan from him when you moved again. You soaked his pants and he couldn’t believe he held on for as long as he had. “Do you need me? Need my tight wet pussy? Need me screaming your name?”

His vision nearly whited out and he swore under his breath. “Yeah. Fuck yeah. I need it,” he begged, but he still didn’t dare to move his hips and break your spell.

You bit your lip. “Then come for me,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear and pressed your hips back one more time.

His hoarse cry echoed in the kitchen, his body trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. His underwear was a sticky mess, his cock tingling and ready to go again when he registered you pulling away.

It took him a moment to come back to himself. Did that really happen, or did he simply imagine you wearing nothing but an apron and making him come in his pants?

You turned and glanced at the wet spot with a smile, appearing perfectly composed when you cupped his cheeks. “You know this means you’re mine now.”

He almost whined again. He was yours? You really wanted him?

His breath was shaky when you looked at his mouth and he stirred in his pants the second your lips met. You kissed him like you had been waiting your whole life to do so, like you’d never get the chance again.

The urge to put you on the island and eat your pussy like a starved man filled his mind. Maybe he could jerk off to the smell and taste of you while you gripped his hair like a lifeline.

He reached behind him to steady himself when you broke the kiss. “It means you’re mine, too,” he said, still catching his breath.

The thought of you doing that to anyone else or anyone else having you… No. He refused to imagine that.

You ran a finger along the wet spot and made him gasp. Your touch was sin wrapped in the package of a fallen angel. “I’ll be yours… once you get me off.”

You stepped out of reach and held a finger up when he tried to grab you. “I’ll get you off,” he promised. So why were you backing up more?

“I’m sure you will,” you said, turning and giving him a generous view of your ass again. “Oh, yeah. There’s nothing in the oven, so you don’t have to worry about sticking around here.”

He sensed that when he didn’t smell anything over the scent of your sweet cunt and gentle perfume. You put on a show just for him, and it flattered him.

“Wait,” he begged when you got to the doorway. He was ready to fall to his knees and beg you to come back. “Where are you going?”

“Well, unless you want someone to stroll in and see me like this, I’m going to hide while you think of a special pet name for me,” you said, winking over your shoulder. “Just follow the scent of my pussy once you’re ready to play some more.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue. You were going to be the death of him, weren’t you? “Should I change first?” he asked, gesturing to his pants. “That’s up to you, but don’t keep me waiting long,” you answered, leaving one last parting shot before you left, “My pussy’s waiting for you to ruin it and I’d really hate to start without you.”

And once Bucky thought of that special pet name, he found you and ruined your pussy just like you wanted.

This could be a fun new couple to play with. I wonder what the term of endearment is. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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giritina · 1 day ago

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I don't have any real judgments towards Rober Ebert for saying this a decade plus ago, but I do think it's mean spirited in the wrong direction. I do think many of these critiques of the "socially inept" are transparently ableist in how they portray struggling with a social script and finding a very autistic solution to that problem as a bad thing. There's an implication here that people who don't learn to "ad lib" or develop normal social skills do so only because of their own refusal to put in the work. If they stopped doing Star Wars stuff so much, they would have the time to learn to be more Normal. Some people in the notes defend this framing by saying that, sure, yeah, those traits are autistic, but you have to learn not to be irritating. I think many of us instead should learn not to be irritated by perceived social ineptitude. I don't think social ineptitude was the key to what makes fandom so frustrating for a film critic at this time or now. I would say it has a lot more to do with an anti-intellectual, literalist view of media that values whatever can fit into a fandom wiki over artistry. The kind of mindset that appeared in early 2010s amateur internet critique and is still loved by people who hate critical theory and challenging art. That mindset might overlap with the type of person described, but it isn't inherent to them in the way some of the traits Ebert lampoons are.

Besides that, I think that it's obviously true that people get into fandom more as a social activity than out of a pure devotion to the source material, but that seems like a perfectly harmless thing to me. It seems like we would all benefit from understanding fandom this way and taking it as neutral to positive. Most hobbies are, in some part, social and performative. That's fine. It's fun to be the guy who shows up two days before the tickets go on sale to hang out with the other nerds. It's fine to be self-indulgent and use the text as a jumping off point to process your own feelings. It's just not great to apply that mindset to all forms of art and judge all things by how well they function as a reason to hold a meet-up or run a wiki or write a fanfic. Media literacy and all that.

Even if you don't think there's any ableism at play, it seems like this framing just starts the wrong conversations. It becomes an issue of critiquing "such people" and not a spectrum of behavior across various types of people. It becomes about social ineptitude and obsession rather than the lens you apply to media.

Saw people posting this on Twitter. Love his take on things

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feeder86 · 2 days ago

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Love of the Chub

Getting into college had been a big deal for Dillon; leaving his first boyfriend behind and moving into the dorms. He didn’t want it to be like high school, where he had created a false, masculine persona for himself because that was what he thought others wanted from him. But just because he found it so easy to play it straight, didn’t mean that it was the right thing to do.

“You like guys, don’t you?” asked Phillip after only ten seconds of Dillon introducing himself to his new dorm neighbor. The guy seemed pleased with himself; a giant smirk spreading across his face; the best gaydar in town.

Dillon stuttered, not knowing how to respond, but eventually nodding. Something about Phillip unnerved him. A year older than the rest of them, the handsome boy had spent the last twelve months backpacking through Asia and Europe. By nine o’clock that first evening, when everyone was having drinks and getting to know one another, he already had his shirt off, revealing his truly epic athleticism, getting everyone up and dancing after several rounds of shots. Within three weeks, he’d fucked several of the girls on the floor above them and had become the unofficial leader of the rowdy boys club. It seemed like, if you wanted to have a good time, Phillip was the guy to be around.

Not blessed with Phillip’s trust fund, Dillon knew that life in college was going to be a little harder for him. He’d taken a job at a fast food place a couple of blocks away from the campus and seemed to take his studies a little more seriously than the rest. He’d known from high school that nothing was going to come easy to him. Even mediocre marks came with work and effort. Then there was his boyfriend, Mikey, still at home, just getting on with his life. Dillon wished he’d made more friends here, however he seemed to lack that fun-loving, silly spark that came with being young and living away from home for the first time. Eager to please, he’d picked up shift after shift at work, covering for the other college students too lazy or hungover to work their contracted hours. Soon the others stopped asking him to come out with them and Dillon found himself wishing that he hadn’t chased the status of this college and, instead, gone somewhere a little closer to home.

“Woah! Who’s this?” Phillip joked, catching Dillon strolling out of his room one evening, ready for another shift. “I thought I’d made you up. Where have you been, buddy?”

Dillon shrugged and began explaining about his work schedule and job at the fast food restaurant. However, it was obvious that Phillip wasn’t really listening. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head on one side as if he was unable to understand.

“There’s something different about you,” Phillip jumped in. He reached his hand out and parted the unzipped jacket to see Dillon’s work shirt. “What’s that?” he laughed. “Dude. Where'd that tummy come from?”

Dillon frowned and immediately pulled the sides of his jacket back, zipping himself up. But it was already too late. Phillip had seen the stout little paunch that had crept up on him, eating so much between shifts at the fast food place. Twenty pounds in under two months! He’d never heard of anyone putting on weight that fast. “Yeah, yeah…” he grumbled; his tone showing that he wasn’t about to laugh along with Phillip making fun of him. “I’ve got to get going for my shift.”

“No, come on, wait!” Phillip smirked, chasing after him and wrapping his large arm over Dillon’s shoulders as they walked down the corridor. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just an asshole sometimes,” he sighed, using that old charm that made him so damn popular around here. “You look good. It suits you!”

“Sure,” Dillon grunted back skeptically, feeling an annoying little flutter of fat in his love handles as they walked.

“If you didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d definitely be taking you back to my room to fuck right now,” Phillip shot back, not even lowering his voice. “Seriously!” he nodded, taking a sideways glance at Dillon’s disapproving face. “Nothing gets my dick harder than a dad-bod!”

Phillip walked a few more steps with him, then raised his arm off his shoulders, standing still and seemingly swooning with appreciation as he watched Dillon’s thicker glutes moving away from him.

“Seriously, buddy. Any time!” Phillip called out, knowing that Dillon was still pissed at him as he raced down the stairs.

It was mid November when Mikey made his visit to see Dillon for the first time. It had been nearly three months since they had last seen each other. All those extra shifts Dillon had been working had at last given him a little extra cash to ensure he could make it the best weekend for his boyfriend. If only, Dillon thought, cursing his reflection in the mirror as his small arching paunch pressed out of his t-shirt, he could use some of it to get rapid lipo-suction and not have to face the embarrassment of taking his shirt off in front of his lover later on.

He met Mikey at the bus station, hugging him tightly the moment he stepped onto the sidewalk. He looked good, with his new, experimental hairstyle, braving the chilly evening with just a light sweater. Dillon took his backpack and began leading him back to the dorms, reeling off all the things he had planned for them both.

“Why didn’t you tell me how much weight you’ve put on?” Mikey jumped in, making Dillon’s heart sink.

Dillon tried to laugh and make light of it. “It’s just because I’m studying so much,” he replied back, tugging at his shirt and trying to suck it back in, just as he had the whole time they’d been at the bus station. He’d been an idiot to assume that Mikey wouldn’t comment on his body that weekend. But to be confronted about it barely two minutes after being reunited had caught him more than a little off-guard.

Mikey had grown cold, and although they kissed and had some fun back in Dillon’s bedroom, it was obvious that he was annoyed at how much Dillon had, according to him, ‘let himself go.’

“Hello there!” smiled Phillip, out in the hallway as Mikey and Dillon headed out that afternoon for a full schedule of activities. “So you’re the handsome little boyfriend that Dillon always bangs on about,” he flirted, giving Mikey a friendly little pat on his rear as soon as the guy chuckled back with appreciation of being smooth-talked by such a hunk. “Fuck! You two would make such a sexy couple to play with!”

Dillon looked on at the excited face of his boyfriend. There was no denying that a guy like Phillip would be his ultimate fantasy and he reached for Mikey’s hand with a little pang of jealousy.

“What’re you boys doing later on?” Phillip asked, seeming to know that Mikey would be the one most receptive to him; his flirting was off the scale.

“I’m taking Mikey out for dinner,” Dillon replied quickly, before Phillip could work any more of his charm. “I’ve made a reservation.”

Phillip smiled wickedly. “I meant ‘later’ later…” he teased, letting his eyes roam over both their bodies in a way that made his intentions more than clear.

Mikey had thought Dillon a prude for shutting Phillip down like he had, and the pair bickered about it most of the afternoon. In fairness, Dillon had always lamented how much he would like to have a threesome with Mikey one day. But now that the very real chance had come up, he suddenly felt too overwhelmed to even consider the proposal. Getting naked in front of someone new? The idea didn’t feel so appealing, given his current shape. There was no denying how attracted he felt to Phillip; only an idiot wouldn’t be. But what would happen afterwards? How could he expect Mikey to go back to being content with just him after having experienced sex with such a god-like specimen like Phillip?

The truth soon came to Dillon after a moody Mikey picked at Dillon’s gain for most of the evening. Staying in shape had been more important to Mikey than Dillon had realised. He’d unknowingly stepped over a red line in his boyfriend’s rulebook. Without serious effort, Mikey wasn’t going to stay with him now that the freshman weight had found him; almost admitting as much when Dillon picked up some coffees for them both and had been tempted into a slice of slice of cake at the counter. Dillon needed to do something to pacify him - and quickly! So, what did it matter if they both had some fun with Phillip?

Mikey was the one to knock on the door, smiling nervously as the large hunk opened up and smiled brightly that his offer had been accepted. “I’m glad I stayed in tonight just in case you two changed your minds,” he teased, retreating back into his bedroom where he had already laid out sheets and cushions on the floor, always anticipating that he would get what he wanted. He pulled off his shirt and let Mikey’s hands explore his chest. Then he raised his muscular arm and beckoned Dillon over too, wanting to kiss him and get him involved right away.

Before long, Mikey had slipped onto his knees to suck Phillip off. Dillon could see that Phillip was faking his moaning a little. Mikey had never been all that great at giving head, going in hard from the start without enough warm up. “You can’t fault his enthusiasm,” Phillip joked, watching keenly as Dillon went to undress himself from his shirt. However, the moan that escaped his lips when Dillon’s thicker torso was revealed was unmistakably genuine.

As Phillip’s hands moved to explore Dillon’s body, it became a little more obvious that Mikey’s presence was more of a frustration than a turn-on for Phillip. The man looked rooted to the spot as Mikey tried to make him climax and, before long, Phillip set the guy to work by bending him over the bed and inserting himself inside. As Mikey moaned from the hardness inside of him, Phillip gently kissed Dillon instead, the hands making Dillon feel like the most desirable person in the world. Not once did Phillip look down as he rocked himself into Mikey. Dillon had the entirety of his attention.

Despite his hesitation that afternoon, Dillon quickly realised how lucky he was. This was the sexiest thing he had ever done. It felt naughty and pushed every boundary he had ever had. He watched the beautiful Phillip thrusting into Mikey, setting off a chain reaction as Dillon came into his own hand. Phillip climaxed at the sight of it and soon set his hand stroking Mikey’s hardness so that he came whilst Phillip was still hard and inside of him.

The set up in Phillip’s room was great, with blankets strewn over the floor. When the athlete offered them to stay with him that night, Mikey had accepted in a tone that dared Dillon to even consider refusing him.

Resting in the middle of the ‘bed’ an hour later, it was obvious from the deep breathing that Mikey had fallen fast asleep. Phillip, spooning Dillon from behind stirred a little, lifting his head up to ensure that Mikey was indeed asleep. Then he flopped his head back and chuckled with what seemed like complete relief. He turned his head into Dillon’s neck and whispered into the guy’s ear. “Thank fuck for that!” he joked, with a hardness starting to press into Dillon’s chubby butt. “I thought he would never fall asleep!”

Dillon couldn’t deny that he was relieved to be alone with Phillip too. Mikey had been so gushing and eager to please, it was obvious that Phillip found him more than a little irritating.

“You fucked him well!” Dillon whispered back, surprised with how relaxed he felt around Phillip now. “You tired him out!”

“You know I only did that to get to you, right?” Phillip quietly replied, expertly, and silently, sliding a fresh condom onto himself with only one hand as he lay almost motionless beside Dillon. “I’ve been fantasising about getting my hands on you for weeks.”

Rubbing his hardness up against Dillon’s butt, Phillip’s hands explored the torso as he continued to spoon him from behind; strong fingers following the contour of a slightly rounded paunch. Next, he went to grab one of Dillon’s glutes, jiggling and bouncing it a little and moaning as it made his erection even firmer.

“You’re so fucking hot!” the randy boy whispered into Dillon’s ear, continuing to grind up against him.

Dillon knew that it was his call what would happen next. Having a threesome was one thing, but having sex with Phillip whilst Mikey lay asleep next to them was crossing a line he knew he couldn’t come back from. Still, he hadn’t felt this sexy and attractive in weeks, with the hungry way Phillip held him contrasting greatly with the look of disgust Mikey showed him when they got naked together only yesterday. Dillon loved the feeling of being so desirable and wanted, especially by someone like Phillip. It was for that reason that he pressed his rear into Phillip’s groin and allowed the hardness to enter him.

After the initial shock of taking such a large erection, Dillon soon relaxed into it as Phillip gentle swayed his hips and silently fucked him so as not to stir Mikey.

“This feels fucking amazing!” Phillip whispered into Dillon’s ear. He strapped his big hand onto Dillon’s hardness and began stroking that too, the pair kissing passionately as Dillon twisted his head back.

Sexually, Phillip was more than accomplished. Dillon knew that he was joining a very long line of people who had been fucked by him. However, it was sex like nothing he had had before: gentle and well-paced, yet simultaneously frantic and urgent.

Phillip was getting close; his breathing becoming heavier. He pressed his lips firmly together, trying to prevent loud moans from escaping and waking Mikey; also clamping a gentle hand over Dillon’s mouth for the same reason. Yet, Mikey didn’t stir once the entire time, even as they both came.

The next morning, Dillon woke up, enveloped by Phillip’s strong arms holding him; one large hand draped over his doughy middle. With Mikey’s bus home leaving at 10am, they didn’t have time to dawdle and were up quickly; Mikey still flirting relentlessly and promising to be back as soon as he could.

Dillon could hardly look at his boyfriend the whole way to the bus station. Only two days earlier, he had been breathless with anticipation for Mikey’s arrival. Now he couldn’t wait to be rid of him so that he could have some time out and process everything that had happened since. But as soon as he started the lone walk back to the dorm, his work called, begging him to come in and cover someone. He shrugged his shoulders, remembering how much more expensive their meal out had been yesterday than he had expected, accepting the shift without arguing.

“Well, well, well…” Phillip grinned, seeing an exhausted Dillon heading in after a shift later that week. “Where have you been hiding?” he asked as Dillon put his key in the lock to his room. “Usually I’m the one who does the ghosting afterwards,” he joked, following Dillon into his room without invitation.

Dillon dropped the pizza box he had collected on the way home onto his desk, collapsing into his chair. “I’ve been working,” he replied grumpily, not completely understanding why he was so annoyed with Phillip. All he knew was that every message he had received from Mikey since he left on Sunday morning had been filled with comments and questions about this stud, endlessly wanting to talk about how incredible their night had been.

Phillip sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. He was so tall and imposing, his legs stretching across most of the floor space towards the bed. “We just haven’t talked since that night,” he shrugged, noticing that Dillion didn’t seem up for his usual jokey and flirtatious tone. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot…”

“Is this the same debrief you give all your conquests?” Dillon sighed, opening the pizza box and starting to eat. “Why are you here?”

Phillip looked around, surprised by the sharp tone of Dillon’s voice. “Um, because I really enjoyed myself. And I think you did too.”

Dillon huffed, devouring his pizza and not wanting to think too much about that night and the feelings he had felt. Mikey had been his first real boyfriend and now it had all gone wrong because of Phillip wanting to scratch an itch he had. He wanted to scream at Phillip for that. Then again… hadn’t he been responsible too? Nobody forced him to have a threesome. No one had forced all this extra weight onto him either. Maybe Mikey wouldn’t have been as interested in sleeping with Phillip if Dillon had been a little more careful with his lifestyle choices since he moved to college; if he had still found him as attractive as he once had; if his eyes had surveyed him with the lustful hunger that Phillip’s did now.

“I’m an asshole, I know,” Phillip sighed. “I had a mad crush on you and so I selfishly found a way to get between you and your boyfriend - who seems really nice by the way,” he smiled kindly.

“No, he’s not…” Dillon admitted, finally coming to terms with how disastrously everything had played out. “In fact, I think he’s even more of an asshole than you.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that!” Phillip joked, breathing a huge, theatrical sigh of relief. “I didn’t really like to say anything… but I thought he was a massive jerk!” he teased, making Dillon smile for the first time since the weekend.

“I think Mikey will be finishing with me when he sees me again over the holidays,” Dillon explained. “He’s not so keen on the, er… ‘dad-bod’, like you are. I’m a lot less appealing without a handsome stud like you thrown in with the deal.”

“Well then, he’s a jerk and he’s an idiot,” Phillip smiled. “You’re gorgeous!”

Dillon rolled his eyes skeptically and lifted the bottom of his work shirt. “I’m fat,” he declared, jiggling the build up of blubber on his stomach. Jeez, what had he done to himself! No wonder Mikey had been so disgusted by him.

“It’s a good job I’m not into six packs then,” Phillip chuckled, seemingly mesmerised by the slightest bit of flesh Dillon had on offer for him.

“Is that so?” Dillon nodded, laughing back as he continued his post-work pizza.

“Dude, you’ve got to stop eating that pizza in such a sexy way…” Phillip joked next. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you here, but something else seems to be draining any blood from reaching my brain!” he pointed at his crotch. “You’re going to turn me into one of those ‘feeders’ if you keep this up!”

Dillon laughed again and pulled off his shirt entirely, slouching more into the chair so that his chubby torso was emphasised even more; his new stomach fat draping over his belt. “All I need now is a cold, fresh can of beer in my hand and I’m the poster boy for dad-bods!” he laughed, pleased to feel confident in his body once more. He could see the effect he was having on Phillip and felt an odd arousal in embracing it. “I double stack them,” Dillon explained, piling slice on top of slice and then biting into it seductively.”

“You’re so fucking hot!” Phillip marvelled; the outline of his swollen erection pushing up from his shorts.

Dillon grinned, knowing that Phillip was desperate to touch him again. Even nine months ago, when he and Mikey had first got together, he had never felt so wanted. Phillip was the type of guy who didn’t have to work to get the people he wanted into bed. The fact that Dillon wasn’t immediately coming to sit straight down on his hardness was silently killing him inside.

“I think I may have just worked out a way to get you all to myself,” the jock smiled, fixated as he admired Dillon eating. “Yeah, I think I know exactly what I need to do next…”

It was almost midnight when Dillon finished his next shift. He strolled out into the parking lot and was suddenly startled by a sports car rolling up beside him. He looked inside, where the driver had kindly switched on the interior light for him, seeing Phillip’s beaming face looking straight back at him.

“What’re you doing here?” Dillon asked with a chuckle.

“I thought I’d be nice and come give you a lift back,” Phillip replied.

Dillon hesitated. “I was actually going to pick up something to eat on the way home. I haven’t had anything since I started my shift at seven. I needed a break from the food we sell in there,” he pointed back to the fast food place.

“That’s fine,” Phillip nodded. “Hop in. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

“Don’t you have to be up early for class tomorrow?” Dillon asked as he stepped inside and buckled up his safety belt.

“Yes,” Phillip nodded. “But you’re much more important.” He chuckled at his own words, knowing how painfully charming he was trying to be and understanding how easily Dillon was able to see through it.

With the use of a car for the first time since he arrived in town, Dillon suggested calling at a fast food place a couple of miles from the campus, where he hadn’t yet been able muster up the energy to walk the distance himself. He became excited as he saw it in the distance and his mouth filled with saliva; his enthusiasm amusing Phillip no end. He called out his order in the drive-thru and held out his card for Phillip to pay. However, Phillip simply waved it away and paid himself. The guy really was keen to get back into his pants!

“Do you mind if we park up whilst I eat?” Dillon asked as Phillip looked set to drive straight home. “I hate trying to eat whilst we’re moving.”

Phillip nodded, parked up and unbuckled his seat belt so that he could turn to Dillon and give him his full attention. They chatted about Dillon’s shift and Phillip went into great detail about his regime in the gym. Dillon could tell that it was a well rehearsed monologue, emphasising his strength, fitness and stamina in order to make his target swoon for his masculine physique and outlook. But Dillon wasn’t biting; at least, not into anything that wasn’t fried in grease and full of sinful calories.

“I love how much you enjoy your food,” Phillip smiled at him, rubbing the top of Dillon’s arm affectionately.

“I bet you’d never eat any of this sort of stuff,” Dillon replied as he opened up his fresh hamburger.

“No,” Phillip replied. “But it turns me on that you do.”

Dillon smiled to himself. He loved commanding such attention from Phillip, but nothing he was doing was really cheating on Mikey. He was simply hanging out with a friend. Although, the tent that had formed in Phillip’s pants suggested that the man was hoping for a lot more. He felt pleased with himself when he got home, knowing that he hadn’t given Phillip what he had wanted. He already knew that things with Mikey weren’t going to work out. But the longer he could keep Phillip hungering for him, developing that animalistic lust for him, the better chance he had at making himself the center of the athlete’s world.

At the end of Dillon’s next late shift, he looked out into the parking lot and saw Phillip’s car sitting there once more. He got in, understanding that he could request to be taken anywhere in the city for something to eat, yet chose the same place as last time, knowing that he wouldn’t have to direct the way to Phillip. He called out his order and made the effort to try and pay, but once again, Phillip insisted. There was something so erotic about their time together in that small, cramped sports car; an intimacy and frustration that they couldn’t touch. Dillon found he started ordering a little more in order to draw out the time together and Phillip’s lust for him only seemed to grow.

Whenever Dillon wasn’t working, he was studying, or catching up on his sleep. Despite being so active before coming here, he had now adopted the most sedentary of lifestyles and his body had seemed to waste no time in responding to this. In the weeks after Mikey’s visit, Dillon could feel even more fat bubbling into the tops of his legs. When he sat down, he noticed the spread of his squishier glutes into the chair. He’d taken to wearing sweatpants and large sweaters, leaving most of the other clothes he had brought to college completely redundant. The lard that he had felt wrapping around his waist had thickened more, with a full roll trying to encircle him, whilst his jiggling nipples had turned pointed and drooped slightly. Perhaps, had he had more friends in college, they could have told him to get his butt into gear and try to shake some of it off. Maybe, if someone other than the dad-bod loving hunk from the room next door had shown a romantic interest in him, he might have had more motivation to take more of a pride in his appearance. Then again, had Mikey been as loving and thoughtful in his messages and emails to him as he once had been, Dillon wouldn’t have had the odd satisfaction of overeating to cause him further annoyance once he saw him next. He no longer cared whether Mikey finished with him, but he was damned if was going to be the one to do it. The summer before he had left had been an absolute dream. They had planned out their entire lives together and made promises to each other that seemed completely preposterous now, given how quickly Mikey had turned sour with him once the pounds had piled on.

“I saw you as I was driving through 54th Street today,” Phillip commented as Dillon settled down in the passenger seat to gorge himself on a variety of items after his shift. “Only from behind, but I’d recognise that big sexy ass anywhere!” he chuckled. “I don’t usually see you in those parts.”

Dillon nodded. “I had to get some case papers from one of the other libraries,” he replied. “It was a pretty long walk.”

“You should have called me. I would have taken you there,” Phillip shot back.

“And that’s exactly why I have such a big, easily recognisable ass these days!” Dillon chuckled. “I hardly walk anywhere with you giving me all these lifts.”

Dillon smiled. “I find your ass mesmerising,” he flirted; eyes twinkling as he watched Dillon continue to eat. The more Dillon had insisted on eating after his shifts, the more the hunk seemed to enjoy it. These eating sessions had become wrapped up in his lust and passion for Dillon, with each greedy mouthful seeming to fuel a now raging fire.

“I’ve put on quite a bit of weight since the end of October,” Dillon sighed. “I don’t know what Mikey is going to think.”

“I hope he hates it!” Phillip shot back, making Dillon laugh at his bluntness. “What?” Phillip asked, as if he was surprised that Dillon would hope for anything less. “I do! I hope he dumps your fat ass the moment he sees you. He can make room for someone else to enjoy you instead.”

“Oh, I wonder who you were thinking of?” Dillon teased back, enjoying how much Phillip hungered for him. “You’re partly to blame for how big my butt has grown anyway!” he joked.

“Worth every cent,” Phillip smirked, actually picking up Dillon’s large milkshake as if he wanted him to take a sip.

Dillon didn’t take hold of the cup, but pursed his lips and sucked straight from the straw as Phillip held it up. It felt sexy, erotic and submissive; as if Dillon was sucking on the sizable hardness that always threatened to burst out of Phillip’s pants. The hunk’s eyes widened and he moaned softly as he watched Dillon drink for him; as if he too had not expected such a small act to feel so exciting. In fact, it was the reason why Dillon didn’t just order one milkshake next time, reasoning that if he couldn’t drain Phillip’s balls, he was going to make damn sure he sucked on that milkshake until there was nothing left.

Earlier in the year, Dillon had been cursing the fact that it was his father’s turn to have him for the holidays. Dillon imagined all the precious time he would miss out, not being close to Mikey, and raging at the unfairness of it all. Last year, he didn’t have a boyfriend, yet now he felt like he had two.

Given how little his dad’s family saw him, Dillon hadn’t expected to be scolded for his weight gain. Instead, they rolled their eyes, feeling oddly entitled to pat his chubby stomach and chuckle at how much he was starting to look like his father and uncles; none of whom had ever been successful in curbing their eating habits and dropping weight.

After days of overeating, Dillon headed home to his mother and half sister, who were a little more aware of the weight he had packed on since leaving last summer. They’d seen him during video calls as his face puffed up more and more. He’d been told to go easy on the fast food and take better care of himself, but as the rest of the family caught sight of his full figured body, Dillon knew that they hadn’t actually been anticipating him being quite so large.

For Dillon, who had grown up away from his father, he felt the quiet scorn of his mother rather keenly. As she observed her son’s new size and greedy appetite, she seemed to be reminded of her own poor choices in marrying Dillon’s father all those years ago. She nagged him for his lazy lie-ins, gluttonous habits and lack of pride for his own appearance as he slobbed about in sweatpants. She made the week entirely miserable, trying to force her will onto Dillon to be something that he no longer was.

Mikey had been even worse. His life had moved on quite a bit since they had both left high school in the summer, with the guy now completing an apprenticeship to work in a hair salon. His friendship circle had altered so much, making Dillon feel strangely unfamiliar with him as Mikey reeled off stories about people Dillon had never met. The boy was cold and moody with him, not wanting to have sex and actively making up excuses to avoid being seen with him outside of the house. Instead, he spoke endlessly about Phillip and the possibility of another threesome when he had the money to come over again. Dillon could see it was the only threadbare reason for Mikey to keep their relationship going; the chance for another hot encounter with an absolute hunk like Phillip. He tested the waters, making up a lie that Phillip had dropped out of college and saw how quickly Mikey’s expression changed. It wasn’t disappointment; Dillon could have accepted that. No, instead, Mikey seemed positively furious that Dillon hadn’t said something earlier, only cementing the fact that Phillip was the only reason why this relationship was still continuing. And so began an argument that only had one inevitable ending.

“I’m guessing from the look on your face that you and Mikey broke up?” his mother asked with mild disinterest.

Dillon didn’t reply, huffing angrily as he searched in the refrigerator for something to snack on.

“You can’t expect to eat what you want, gain 60lbs and assume that everyone will be fine with it. That’s not how life works, Honey” she lectured. “You’ll just end up on your own, like your father,” she continued, never wasting a single opportunity to press the knife in when it came to Dillon’s dad. The vindictive manner in which she had always painted his father had never been something Dillon had been able to match with the relaxed, laid-back man he knew.

With his back to her, Dillon rolled his eyes, pulling out a tray of leftover meats and starting to pick at some. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, seeing that Phillip had found yet another reason to message him. Dillon smirked, knowing just how wrong his mother actually was. Despite being apart, Phillip still seemed infatuated with him. “I’m heading out,” he replied to his mother, already typing an update to Phillip. He still had a bit of money left over from the day and he fancied something a little tastier than his mother was willing to provide for him. Also, he anticipated that Phillip would be calling him up the moment he heard Dillon was single again.

The phone call from Dillon’s manager, begging him to return early and pick up a couple of shifts had never been more welcome. The atmosphere at home was completely toxic as Dillon couldn’t help his happy mood and ravenous appetite after the break up. Leaving most of his old, ill-fitting clothes at home, Dillon breathed a sigh of relief as the bus began carrying him back to the campus. He slipped on his work shirt, noticing a new tightness around his waist and continued with his new life as if the holidays had never happened.

As soon as Phillip heard that Dillon was back in town, he had cancelled his plans and raced back to college, knocking on the door as soon as he got there. He seemed completely breathless with lust as he stepped over the threshold and began kissing Dillon with an urgency borne from months of keeping a respectful distance. Clothes were removed. Phillip sniffed Dillon’s hair, seeming to find a kinkiness in the slight odour of grease from the fast food restaurant. “You’ve put on weight!” he marvelled, placing his hand under the arching shape of Dillon’s swollen midsection.

Dillon grinned. He certainly had put on weight, but Phillip was hardly going to scold him for it. Instead, he pushed out his stomach, making it even rounder and more extreme. “Yeah, I’ve been eating good!” he smiled proudly.

Phillip’s smile spread from cheek to cheek. “I like it!” he stated, strapping a hand onto Dillon’s softer rear and making the glutes bounce for him.

“Oh, I know you do!” Dillon grinned back. He’d spent months teasing a sexually frustrated Phillip with his eating habits. How could the guy not enjoy seeing him looking like this, at his heaviest ever weight?

Perhaps out of habit, the pair slipped off to the drive-thru around midnight. Even after several rounds of climaxing together, Phillip’s lust for him seemed impossible to quench. In the passenger seat of the man’s sports car, Dillon indulged the kinky boy by opening his mouth and biting into each burger that Phillip pressed to his lips; alternating that with sucking from the straw of his two large containers of milkshake, similarly brought straight to his mouth.

“Oh… man!” Phillip moaned, staring down at his own concrete erection in that dark car. “What the fuck have you done to me?” he teased, barely comprehending how sexy he found this feeding of his new lover. “Why do I find it so sexy to watch you eating like this?”

Dillon grinned proudly, grabbing Phillip’s wrist and pulling the hand that held the latest burger towards his hungry mouth; staring into Phillip’s lustful eyes as he did so. He felt powerful, making such an experienced man feel things he had never encountered with anyone else; exciting him in a way that no one else could. That look of complete arousal was more than satisfying to observe.

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Phillip declared next, using his free hand to raise Dillon’s t-shirt and expose the fat belly, just before slipping his large, warm hand comforting across it. “I want everyone to know that you’re all mine.”

Dillon swallowed quickly and stifled a laugh. Phillip, the campus stud actually wanting to be in a real relationship? What on Earth was happening to this guy? The Phillip of old would never have even considered such a thing.

Dillon pretended to consider the idea as Phillip’s hand slid back and forth over his chubby, bloated gut, pausing only occasionally to pinch and jiggle the fresh fat. “Well, that depends,” he teased. “Do you promise never to put me on a diet?” he smirked contentedly.

“Oh, quite the opposite!” Phillip laughed excitedly back, putting the hamburger briefly down to carry the milkshake up for Dillon to suck. His eyes scrutinised Dillon’s puffy cheeks as they pulled the fattening liquid up the straw, knowing that he’d be inserting his dick straight back in that mouth as soon as they were back on campus. His smile grew wider the longer Dillon sucked, seeing an obvious determination to finish it all for him. “Dillon…” he whispered, almost breathlessly. “I think I might be a feeder…”

The moment Dillon stopped sucking, a large, rolling burp sprang from his throat, making him roar like a lion cub. As the gas forced its way out, Dillon could see it all: the large, tank-like gut he would grow by the time he graduated, the uncontrollable appetite that would be enabled by his new lover, and the dutiful way that same man would appreciate every second of it; never once leaving his side.

“Good!” Dillon finally smiled happily. “It’s time to turn me into a proper fat boy!”

#gainer fiction #gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gainerstories #gainer story #gayfeedee #gainerfic #gainer fic #gainer stories

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angelsuecult · 2 days ago

Text

twenty years | s. crosby

warnings: some language

summary: you have fun reminding sidney about your significant age gap on the anniversary of his draft date

request: Thinking abt younger gf messing w Sid on his draft day anniversary, going 'yk where I was when you were getting drafted? Summer day care.'

word count: 2.2k

a/n: thank you to whoever requested this one. I had fun writing it😭😭. don’t hesitate to let me know if you love or hate it or anything! I changed it up just a bit so enjoy it guys, more to come.

—

The kitchen smelled like garlic and shallots and something buttery and a little lemony—whatever Sidney had going on in the pan was making your stomach growl in slow-motion agony. You were perched on one of the stools at the counter, legs up and bare, wearing one of his old Penguins shirts from some year you barely remembered—black and soft and oversized, sleeves cuffed twice. You weren’t helping much, other than occasionally stealing cherry tomatoes off the cutting board and giving unrequested input like, “You should add chili flakes,” and “More butter. Don’t be shy, Crosby.”

Outside, the sun was starting to fall behind the trees, long orange light spilling into the windows off the lake like warm honey. One of the sliding doors was cracked open and the bugs were already chirping. It was still too warm to need a sweater. Just enough breeze to lift the hairs on your arms.

Sid stood at the stove in soft black shorts and a light t-shirt that clung to his back, still damp from the lake earlier. Barefoot, cooking, quiet. His hair was a mess and his mouth was doing that thing it did when he was trying to concentrate—slightly parted, like he might start humming, like he might forget you were even in the room if you weren’t making it your full-time job to interrupt him every five minutes.

“You know,” you said, lazily scrolling on your phone. “I would just like to say… not everyone gets a cake and floral arrangement for a job they’ve had for two decades.”

Sid looked over his shoulder at you. “You decorated the cake with gravestones, babe.”

“Technically it was a single gravestone. Singular. And it said ‘RIP to Sid’s youth.’ You’re welcome for the originality.”

He just shook his head, laughing softly. “I don’t know what’s worse, the cake or the fact that the balloon said ‘over the hill.’ I’m not over the hill.”

“Uh huh. That’s what they all say when their knees start creaking,” you replied, propping your chin in your hand.

Sid sighed dramatically and turned back to the pan, giving it a little toss. “You made me flowers. There were black roses in it. You know how twisted that is?”

“And carnations shaped like a 2 and a 0! Honestly, I should be hired for event planning.”

“You’re insane,” he said, mostly to the salmon.

You grinned and tilted your phone toward him. “Look. NHL just posted a throwback clip. ‘20 years ago today, the Penguins drafted Sidney Crosby first overall.’ Wow. Look at you. Baby-faced. No wrinkles. No gray hairs. A simpler time.”

Sid glanced briefly, squinting. “I looked twelve.”

“You were twelve.”

“I was almost eighteen.”

“Yeah, yeah. Almost. Meanwhile, I was probably in Summer daycare, finger painting, wearing light-up sneakers with Velcro straps.” You paused for effect, then added with a grin: “I might’ve peed myself during naptime. Real big day for both of us.”

Sid made a low groaning noise, hiding his face behind his arm. “Jesus Christ. Don’t say that while I’m cooking. I just lost my appetite.”

“Sorry, Grandpa,” you said sweetly. “It’s just wild to think. You were putting on a Penguins uniform for the first time and I was over there asking my mom for another cup of apple juice and trying not to eat Play-Doh.”

He turned and pointed a wooden spoon at you, the one he’d been using to stir the pan. “You’re such an asshole.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” he said instantly, tossing the spoon into the sink and walking over to you. He fit himself between your legs where they dangled off the stool and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’re evil. But thoughtful.”

You batted your eyelashes. “I try.”

“Seriously, though. The cake was…” he paused, like he was actually getting shy about it. “It was sweet. All of it. I didn’t even think you’d remember the date.”

“You only got drafted once, Crosby. Kind of a big deal. I Googled the date weeks ago. Wrote it in my notes app.”

He looked pleased. And then even more flustered than before.

You teased, “Are you blushing? Aww.”

He stepped back and flicked water at you from the sink. “Do not start.”

You dodged it with a squeal. “Oh my god. Are you flustered right now? Is the stoic, media-trained hockey robot actually blushing? That’s so cute. Are you gonna cry next?”

“You’re so mean to me,” he muttered, shaking his head while trying not to laugh.

You were still scrolling and teasing when he plated dinner—some kind of lemon herb salmon with asparagus and roasted potatoes. When you finally leaned in to smell it, he gave you a little spank on the hip as a warning not to steal anything. You retaliated by licking his shoulder when he wasn’t looking, which he didn’t acknowledge beyond a very still pause and a quiet, “Babe.”

They say nothing tastes as good as love feels, but you had a very strong suspicion Sidney Crosby’s cooking might be the exception. It was quiet while he lit the citronella candle on the patio and brought out dinner. You followed behind him with your phone still in hand, the post still up.

You kept reading little bits aloud like a documentary narrator:

“‘Crosby was the No. 1 pick in the 2005 NHL Entry Draft after the lockout year…’ Oof. I didn’t even know what a lockout was. I was locked out of my own house once because I couldn’t reach the doorknob.”

Sid just muttered, “Oh my god,” and pulled your chair out for you.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, deliberately soft. “Happy 20 years of being a professional badass.”

He kissed your temple back. “Thanks for the cake. And the balloons. And the verbal abuse.”

Your fork was halfway to your mouth when your phone buzzed.

You glanced down at the screen, expecting some dumb group chat message or a spammy email, but it was from your mom. A message bubble, and then immediately another. Two photos. No text. And then, a second later, a follow-up:

Mom: Look at my two babies!! Handsome Sid on his big day and my little penguin princess!!

You made a noise in your throat that was probably supposed to be a laugh but came out more like a cough-sob. Sid glanced over at you, eyebrows raised.

You were already snorting. “Oh my god. My mom is actually deranged.”

“What’d she say now?” he asked, chewing.

You just turned your phone toward him without saying a word.

The first photo was one you’d seen a dozen times—Sid on draft day, bright-eyed and baby-faced in his brand new Penguins jersey, standing between Mario and the old GM. He looked excited, happy, trying to hide how overwhelmed he was. His tie was perfectly straight. You couldn’t believe how young he looked—skin flushed, hair perfect, still figuring out how to smile like a pro.

Sid groaned like he’d just been stabbed. “Oh my god. No. No, she didn’t.”

“She did.”

He covered his face with both hands. “Why does your mom love me more than you do?”

“Because you didn’t throw up on her new rug on New Years.”

He laughed into his hands. “That wasn’t your fault, though.”

“Yeah, it was the vodka. It had a vendetta.”

You scrolled to the second image and then actually snorted.

“What? What now?”

You tilted the phone again. This time, the picture was clearly from some sort of party. You recognized your cousin Evan’s living room from childhood—cluttered with plastic folding chairs, confetti, streamers in black and gold. There was a cardboard cutout of Mario Lemieux near the fireplace and a homemade banner that said "GO PENS!" in clumsy block letters. Right in the center of it all was you.

Four, maybe five years old. Sitting on the carpet in pink leggings and light-up sneakers that looked suspiciously like they were from Payless. Your hair was in pigtails with those little butterfly clips. You were holding a plastic Penguins puck and staring directly at the camera, mid-blink, mouth slightly open. Probably mid-sentence. You looked like a dazed little goblin in an alternate timeline. And yes—your shoes were glowing.

Sid leaned in, trying to get a better look. “No fucking way.”

You nearly cried laughing. “It gets better—look at the timestamp in the corner. July 29, 2005. The day before your draft.”

His eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

“My cousin Evan’s birthday party. It was Penguins-themed. I had no idea. I was eating cake under a Mario Lemieux cutout while you were boarding a flight to Ottawa. We were destined.”

Sid was silent for a beat, blinking at the image. Then he let out a breathless, helpless laugh.

“Oh my god, you were a literal fetus.”

“I was preschool royalty.”

“You look like you’d bite someone if they got too close to your crayons.”

You zoomed in. “I did bite people. That was a rough summer for everyone.”

Sid was full-on laughing now. You could see it in his shoulders, in the way he tipped his head back. He looked at you, then at the phone again, then back at you.

“You… were at a Penguins-themed birthday party the day before I was drafted, and now we’re here—at my lake house—having dinner—after you gave me a cake that said ‘RIP Sid’s Youth.’”

You smiled brightly. “Full circle, baby.”

He grinned at you, all pleased with himself, then nodded toward your phone. “What’d your mom say with the picture?”

You looked down at the message thread.

The text below the photo said:

“Can you believe this?? You were at a Penguins party and had no idea your future boyfriend was about to be drafted, you look like you’re about to steal something. Little menace.”

You turned the screen again. “She said I looked like I was about to commit a crime.”

Sid nodded approvingly. “Accurate.”

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“She already knows. That’s why she likes me.”

The next message she sent just added more fuel to the fire:

‘One of these kids grew up to kiss the man on the posters. The other one is Sidney Crosby.’

You dissolved into a loud, wheezing laugh, nearly spilling your wine.

“Your mother,” Sid said through a crooked smile. “Your actual mother texted you that? That’s fucking hilarious.”

“She’s deranged. Unhinged. We reward her with grandchildren someday, she better know I expect full-time babysitting in return.”

“She’s not wrong, though,” he said, grinning as he leaned closer. “You’re the one with the glow shoes and pink leggings. I was just out here, getting drafted. Minding my business.”

You flicked him lightly in the chest. “You were drafted to a team I was already a fan of, mind you. I was loyal before you even arrived. That photo is literal proof.”

He laughed into his wineglass. “That explains everything. You were like, five years old and already getting emotionally prepped to ruin my life.”

“And my taste in men. Traumatized before I could even spell ‘center.’”

He let out a full, loud ugh, and buried his face in his hands for a second.

You leaned forward, poking him again. “I was probably still learning how to spell my own name when you got handed a six-figure contract. I was still losing baby teeth while you were doing press conferences.”

He groaned even louder. “Stop, stop, stop.”

You swirled your wine like you were a villain in a movie. “You were buying your first luxury watch and I was still crying when my mom made me eat the crust on my sandwich.”

“I’m gonna throw myself in the lake.”

You grinned. “Too late. You already made dinner. You’re locked in now.”

“Unreal,” he muttered, shaking his head, still laughing. “I’m dating someone who didn’t even know how to tie her shoes when I got drafted.”

“I still don’t,” you said breezily. “I just shove my foot in and hope for the best.” You raised your wine glass. “To growing old disgracefully.”

He clinked his against yours. “To you being a brat.”

You sipped, then added, “By the way, when you were lifting the Cup for the first time, I was probably doing my third grade multiplication tables.”

He groaned so loud it echoed off the trees. “Why are you like this?”

“I was a prodigy,” you said smugly. “Counting to one hundred by fives and dreaming about boys. You were the boy.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“I was ahead of my time.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

You grinned at him and popped a tomato in your mouth. “Not when I’m in love.”

That shut him up for a second. The corners of his mouth lifted slowly, soft and crooked and a little too fond for his own good. He reached across the table and curled his fingers around yours.

“You’re an absolute nightmare,” he said, voice low.

“Your nightmare,” you said sweetly, and winked. “With benefits.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth and he tilted his head slightly. “You know I’m gonna make you pay for all these jokes later, right?”

You dragged your toe up the inside of his calf. “Yeah. I’m counting on it.”

Sid just shook his head again, hiding a smirk behind his wine glass, cheeks a little pink now under the setting sun. His hand stayed on yours. His thumb traced slow, quiet circles against your palm, and when you looked at him again, he was already staring. Like he hadn’t stopped. Like you were the best anniversary gift he’d gotten all day.

—

#angelsuecultwrites #angelsuecult #twenty years | s. crosby #sidney crosby #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl players #pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby x reader #reqs open

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thewitchandtheassassin · 13 hours ago

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Breaking and Entering (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: This is the sequel to Across the Street... Wanda's impatient. How dare you work late?

Words: 3131

Warnings: Smut, language, bottom!wanda, top!reader, strap-on sucking and sex, strap-on referred to as cock, mild degradation, wanda receiving, deepthroating, your hot girlfriend breaks into your house and soaks your chair because she's horny, uh... fuck, man, there's a lot of filthy smut.

A/N: There's already a part three planned, smh.

-X-

Your house was dark when you stepped inside, the quiet stillness that was welcomed and needed after a long day. Your keys hit the counter, the scent of Wanda filling your nose but you shrugged it off as your mind playing tricks. Urging you to go see the woman across the street.

Ever since that day—that day—of fucking in her kitchen before being dragged upstairs and ravaged again… and again… and again… you and the other woman had begun a tentative courtship. It was still fresh and you were still learning each other, but goddamn was the learning part fun and the sex?

Even better.

Yawning, you toed off your boots before stepping into the dark living room, preparing to go take a quick shower before running over to see Wanda—

But then the lamp flicked on and there she was, lounging in your recliner. In that same fucking robe you’d peeled off her body a dozen times now. It was parted wide, leaving nothing to the imagination as it only served to emphasize the soft swells of her breasts and the shine of her glistening thighs. She was sprawled out languidly, one leg hooked over the armrest, the other spread just enough to showcase exactly what had brought her to your house. Clit already swollen and folds slick with her juices…

She looked like a goddess out of your most sinful daydreams.

Her eyes burned into yours—hungry, feral, and dark with need that had clearly been simmering for hours. On the coffee table in front of her sat your strap-on, matte and red in the dull lamplight.

“I see you went through my drawers after you broke in.” You smirked, arching a brow.

"I let myself in," she corrected softly, voice hoarse with arousal, fingers lazily brushing down her inner thigh, gliding through her slick folds with no shame. “Hope you don’t mind. I’ve been waiting. For hours.”

Her other hand rested against her chest, fingertips teasing her nipple with just enough pressure to make her gasp—soft and needy.

“I needed you, detka.” Her voice cracked with want. “And you didn’t answer your phone. So I got tired of waiting.”

She dipped two fingers inside herself slowly—eyes locked on you, lips parted in an audible moan that made your blood rush into your ears—and pulled them out just as tauntingly, dripping wet as she brought them to her mouth and sucked them clean.

“You gonna make it up to me?”

She spread wider, cunt glistening, muscles trembling and body aching for yours.

Stalking towards her, you tossed your jacket aside as you stopped in front of the recliner. You tangled a hand in her hair, yanking her head back slightly so she was staring up at you with wide, lust darkened eyes. “You break into my house and tell me I have to make it up to you, princess?”

Wanda whimpered, her lips parted as her head tilted back into your grip. Her eyes fluttered closed for the briefest second—just long enough to bask in the sensation of your dominance pressing down on her like gravity—before she forced them open again, locked on yours.

She was already breathing harder. Already soaking through the cushion beneath her.

“You weren’t answering,” she gasped, her voice frayed and breathless as your hand tightened in her hair. “And I—I needed you, malysh—I was aching for it—”

“Aching so much that you decided to come over and leave a wet mark on my chair? I bet you touched yourself right here, didn’t you? Waiting…”

“You’re the only one who can make it stop,” she whispered, like a confession, like it hurt to admit how badly she needed your strap in her, your voice in her ear, your body owning every inch of hers.

“Making a mess all over my recliner… every time I sit on this chair, I’m gonna know it smells like your perfect pussy,” you whispered, cupping her drenched heat possessively.

Wanda shuddered so violently it was like her whole body short-circuited under your hand, her breath catching in a broken gasp as your fingers trailed through her soaked cunt, slick gushing against your palm like her pussy recognized who she belonged to.

She looked wrecked, eyes fluttering open, cheeks flushed deep red, lips parted around a moan she couldn’t even swallow.

“You’re such a needy slut,” you muttered, leaning down to kiss her hungrily as your fingers spread her folds, thumb gliding along her swollen clit.

Wanda moaned into your mouth the second your lips crashed into hers—greedy, open, and soaked in desperation. She kissed you like she’d been drowning without it, like your mouth was the only thing that could fucking fix her ache. Her hands flew to your shoulders, nails biting through the fabric of your shirt as she dragged you closer, robe slipping off her shoulders completely now, forgotten.

She whined into the kiss, hips bucking up against your hand, juices dripping down her thighs, body writhing in the chair like it physically hurt not to have you inside her already.

“Yes,” she gasped into your mouth between kisses, her voice ragged and soaked in want. “I am—your needy fucking slut—please, detka—please, I need it—”

She was panting, voice cracking as she kissed you harder, rougher, tongue fucking into your mouth like she could drive away the last few hours of ache and unending lust. Her thighs trembled, spread wide as your fingers worked her open, the wet spot visible beneath her ass.

“Please, baby—please fuck me with your cock… I need it so bad—” she sobbed, desperate and trembling.

“Get on your knees, princess.”

Wanda obeyed like it was reflex, dropping from the chair to her knees without hesitation as she stared up at you. The robe dropped from the recliner to the floor, leaving her completely bare beneath your hungry gaze. Hers was just as desperate as she watched you peel off your jeans and underwear, throwing them aside like they were an offense to your sensibilities before meticulously slipping the strap-on into place.

She licked her lips, pupils blow wide and face flushed, thighs pressing together like she might come from the sight alone.

“Please,” she whispered, mouth watering, “Please, let me suck it… let me be good for you…”

She crawled forward, kneeling in front of you as she stared at your strap with a hunger you’d never seen on her face before. Her lips hovered inches from the tip, breath warm and trembling as it ghosted over your hips.

Smirking, you crouched down in front of her, hand gliding down her trembling stomach and between her thighs as you gathered her need on your fingers—laughing darkly in her ear as her breath audibly hitched—before you rose, dragging the same hand along the red silicone.

You gripped her jaw with your other hand, forcing her lips to part slightly as you finished coating the toy in her desire.

“Open.”

Wanda's lips parted instantly—obedient, desperate, eyes fixed on yours as her head tipped back, her thighs clenching beneath her, arousal dripping freely down her inner thighs to the floor. Her tongue flicked at the tip as you guided it forward, her moan vibrating against the silicone as she opened wider—welcoming the first inch past her lips with a greedy, aching groan.

Wanda looked obscene on her knees, her eyes fluttering shut as she sucked your cock into her mouth like she’d needed it, like this was what she was made for. Her throat relaxed, taking you deeper inch by inch, her lips stretched wide, her spit mixing with the slick you’d smeared there until the base of the strap was glistening.

She moaned around you, hands gripping your thighs, hips rocking subconsciously as she took more, then more—her mouth sloppy, eager, and fucking perfect.

You tangled your hand in her hair, rocking your hips forward languidly as you fucked her mouth like you had all the time in the world to enjoy this moment.

“Fuck, such a pretty mouth,” you cooed down at her, nails dragging along her scalp teasingly.

Wanda whined around the length of your strap, eyes rolling back as your words sank into her like a drug. Her lips stretched tight around the silicone, spit pooling and dripping down her chin, the wet sound of your cock sliding over her tongue echoing through the room as you rocked your hips.

Your hand in her hair kept her locked in place, just where you wanted her, her jaw slack and obedient as you fed her more, each thrust pushing her further down, her throat working around the thickness like she needed to prove she could take it. You thrust back in, and she gagged beautifully, throat convulsing around the shaft as she held still for it, one hand slipping between her legs to shamelessly rub her clit as tears welled in her eyes—pure bliss and overstimulation wracking her body as she choked on your cock, thanking you for every inch.

Her lips grazed the root of your strap, holding it in her throat for just a moment, eyes locked on yours before you pulled back with a slick, filthy sound, eyeing the strings of spit connecting her to the tip of your strap. She gasped raggedly as you left her throat, breath coming in broken, needy pulls.

She looked beautiful and ruined.

“Fuck, you look so pretty all fucked out like this, princess,” you murmured, dragging your thumb along her bottom lip before guiding her up by her hair with a wicked grin.

Her eyes were locked on yours as she stood, rising with your hand in her tresses like a leash she never wanted to come loose.

“Detka… please,” she whispered, her hands gripping your shirt that you hadn’t cared to toss aside earlier. “I need you inside me…”

Walking her back towards the recliner, you spun around and sat down before dragging her into your lap. Her cunt brushed the strap as she settled across your legs, her entire body shuddering as a helpless moan escaped. Her hips twitched as the tip nudged her entrance, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Since you’re such a needy little thing… then ride me, princess. Show me what you’ve been fantasizing about all day that left such a filthy mess between those thighs.”

Her breath hitched and she looked down at you like you were both the center of her universe and the one who’d set it on fire.

“Yes, yes—fuck yes,” she whispered, voice thick and breathless, her hands bracing on your shoulders as she rocked her hips forward, dragging the soaked head of your cock through her folds once, twice, before she sank onto it with a broken moan. “Oh fuck, detka…”

Her body opened for you, inch by inch, stretching obscenely around the thick strap as she took it all the way in, until her hips were flush to yours and her cunt was clenching wildly around the base. She sat still for a second—just trembling, panting, feeling every fucking inch of your strap—before she began to move.

Wanda rolled her hips, slow and filthy, grinding down in tight, desperate circles as her head fell back, mouth open in a perfect, silent cry.

“I thought about this all day,” she sobbed. “Thought about your cock in me while I was doing the dishes—when I was reading—when I touched myself and couldn’t come unless I imagined you fucking me like this—”

She lifted her hips and slammed back down with a loud slap, her moan ragged and ecstatic.

“Naughty slut,” you taunted mockingly. “You couldn’t even wait a few hours for me to get home, so you sat and fucked yourself to the thought of me? Tsk tsk.”

Your hand wrapped around her throat, watching her eyes roll back in ecstasy as you squeezed just enough to make the edges of her vision blur.

Wanda gasped, the sudden grip around her throat stealing the breath from her lungs in the most delicious way. Her cunt clenched hard around the strap buried inside her, body seizing in place as her vision danced at the edges, just enough to make her dizzy with it—helpless and high on your control.

Her moan came out strangled, shattered, her hips stuttering in their rhythm as your words sank deep. “I tried—I tried to wait,” she choked, eyes fluttering, jaw slack. “But I couldn’t—I was so wet—I kept thinking about how you’d fill me, how you’d choke me just like this—”

Her nails dug into your shoulders, her whole body trembling as she rode your cock harder, her juices gushing down your thighs with every bounce. She couldn’t stop—didn’t want to—desperate to fuck herself senseless on you even as your hand held her breath hostage.

“I needed it—I needed you—”

Your fingers squeezed just a little tighter—carefully, perfectly—her lips parting in a soundless, wrecked gasp as her eyes rolled back, her orgasm building fast now, overwhelming, dangerous.

“I’m gonna—fuck—malysh, I’m gonna come!” she sobbed, hips slamming down faster, her body unraveling in your lap.

“Look at the mess you’re making… hear all those pretty sounds? It’s because this cunt’s mine now.”

Your free hand gripped her hip, holding her tight as you began to fuck up into her punishingly, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed her pretty features.

Wanda screamed, the pure, overwhelming pleasure that ripped through her making her head swim as you thrusted up into her with a brutal rhythm. Every slam of your hips sent her bouncing, legs quaking around you, arousal dripping between your thighs with each wet, filthy smack of your hips meeting hers.

Her eyes snapped open—barely focused and wide with lust, tears tracking down her cheeks as you held her throat and fucked her harder, deeper, rougher.

The wet sounds were obscene—slap, squelch, whimper—and every word from your mouth made her clench tighter around the strap, like her pussy was trying to keep you buried forever.

“You hear that?” you growled. “That’s your pretty cunt crying for my strap. You’re dripping like you’ve been waiting your whole life to be filled by me.”

Wanda whined, hips jerking, hands clawing at your shoulders as her orgasm surged through her, violent and blinding and devastating.

“I’m gonna—fuck, I’m—I’m cumming!”

Her body convulsed in your lap, pussy clenching so hard around the strap that it felt nearly impossible for you to move, her legs locking and thighs trembling wildly as her climax tore through her like a livewire touching the goddamn ocean.

Your hand left her throat, hearing the way she drank in air like her lungs had been starving, as it fell to her hips—

And you kept pounding into her, determined to drive her through the first orgasm and immediately into the next. “You couldn’t wait… you said you needed it… so you’re gonna get exactly what you asked for, princess.”

Wanda choked on her first full breath like it burned—her body seizing, back arching as the oxygen crashed into her lungs just as another brutal thrust slammed your cock deeper into her soaked, overstimulated cunt.

She screamed, incoherent, nothing but wild, raw sound and maybe a Sokovian curse being torn from her throat as you gripped her hips and fucked her through it relentlessly.

“D-det—fuck—DETKA—!”

Her voice shattered with every thrust, pussy clenching violently as she bounced in your lap, fucked out and still taking every punishing inch.

“You said you needed it,” you rasped into her ear, “so you’re gonna take it, Wanda—take every inch until this cunt knows who it belongs to.”

Her hands scrabbled against your shoulders, her body completely wrecked, nerves fried, clit screaming from the friction of her grinding against your pelvis—

But fuck, she didn’t want you to stop. She needed it—this, you, your strap filling every fucking inch of her.

“Please—please—don’t stop—” she sobbed, tears spilling from her eyes, legs trembling uncontrollably.

Her second orgasm built fast, even harder than the first, slamming into her with a tidal wave of overstimulation that had her whole body seizing again and you moaned as her nails sunk so deep into your shoulders that you were certain you’d have the crescents scored into your skin for days.

As her climax shuddered through her, she collapsed against you with a broken, pathetic whimper, her face buried against your throat.

Your hips slowed immediately, easing her down from the brutal pace to something slow and careful, working her through the sensations before you finally stilled. Your hand stroked her sweaty, overheated spine, lips pressing to her temple.

“That’s it, princess… you did so good for me, baby. Ride it out,” you whispered against her ear.

Wanda shuddered against you, her body folding into yours like a lifeline, every muscle twitching with the aftershocks of being fucked senseless. Her breath came in tiny, ragged gasps against your neck, her skin sticky and flushed, her thighs still quivering around your hips.

She clung to you, her fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt like she didn’t trust her body to hold her upright without you. Her pussy pulsed weakly around the strap, oversensitive and wet, every twitch of her hips met with a low, broken moan that she couldn’t quite stifle.

“You’re so good to me…” she mumbled, forehead pressed to your jaw. “I didn’t—I didn’t know I could come like that, fuck…” She let out a shaky breath, her body finally starting to melt down into yours, pliant and loose in your arms.

You pressed your lips to her shoulder. “…my chair is so wet,” you chuckled, nuzzling the side of your head against hers. “When you can feel your legs again, we’ll go take a bath, okay?”

“Mhm,” she hummed sleepily, thoroughly boneless and sated. “…you’re not actually upset I broke in, are you?”

Snorting, you shook your head. “I mean, if I didn’t run when I found out you were watching me, what’s a little B&E?”

“…you really should find a better place to hide your spare key, though. A potted plant? Really, malysh? That’s exactly how you invite a serial killer into your home. This isn’t a 70s movie.”

“Y’know, you’re pretty judgmental for a hot stalker,” you teased, pinching her side gently.

“I wouldn’t call myself a stalker,” she argued weakly, her lips warm against your cooling throat. “I’d consider myself a connoisseur of the human body. Specifically yours.”

Pause.

“Stalker.”

Another moment of silence.

“Shut up, detka.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #mcu imagine #avengers imagine #marvel imagine

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nipsrfun · 2 days ago

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That is a damn great body but I would have so much fun sucking & playing with his yummy pink puffy tits

Horny💦

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v6quewrlds · 1 day ago

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thinking about a blurb with joe and wifey where he just flattens the entire expanse of his fat tongue on her puss and lets her ride his face … is that too much 🤭

author's note⠀⁎⠀smut, 18+ mdni. never ever too much 😋 partially inspired by a tweet i saw a few days ago. pussy drunk!joe (🥳), overstimulation but like barely, oral (f. receiving).

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist / series masterlist.

Joe loved watching his girlfriend. He loved watching her come home after a long day at the clinic, the way she’d let out that long sigh and kick off her shoes. He loved the way she’d seek him out, her eyes scanning the house, looking for him. He loved seeing how she’d light up when she found him, and he loved the way she’d melt into his arms when he pulled her in, her body fitting so perfectly against his.

Even on nights like tonight when she walked through the door with a frown etched on her beautiful face, Joe couldn’t help the softness that flooded his chest. He watched her toss her bag on the couch and head straight for the kitchen, probably in search of a wine bottle. She’d had a tough day, he could tell. Her shoulders were tense, and she hadn’t even bothered to take off her embroidered cardigan.

“I thought we had at least 10 more years and two kids before alcoholism set in, but here we are,” Joe jested, ocean blue eyes tracking the way she set the entire bottle of Merlot on the coffee table with a thunk. She huffed, falling back against the couch, already shifting her body to sneak under his arm. He wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in, pressing a kiss to her lips once she turned her head.

She didn’t fight his affection. She took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. “It was just a bad day. Nothing serious.” She didn’t elaborate, and Joe knew better than to prod. Her bad days were usually the worst days anyone could ever have, full of patients who didn’t listen, unfortunate news she was responsible for breaking, and colleagues who didn’t care. He’d seen her after them before, her eyes glazed over with exhaustion and her shoulders drooped in defeat. She had previously vented about realizing just how little control she had over her patients’ lives, and Joe knew it weighed on her heavily.

“My brain feels like it’s been run over by a truck,” she groaned, closing her eyes and leaning her head into Joe’s shoulder. “Or sat on by a very large, very stubborn rhino.” She downed a quarter of her wine in one gulp.

Joe chuckled lowly. “Are we thinking it’s a white or black rhino? Because that changes the level of stubbornness we’re dealing with here,” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood. His cheek remained pressed to the top of her head, his fingertips dragging over her shoulder and down her arm in soothing strokes.

“Does it matter? They’re both stubborn as hell,” she shot back with a tired smile, her eyes closing through another long sip of wine. The liquid warmth washed over her, but it wasn’t enough to ease the tension in her neck.

“Yeah, it fuckin’ matters. Why wouldn’t it?” Joe scoffed playfully, his tone light even as he felt her muscles tense up under his touch. “White rhinos are the calmer ones. They just want to graze. They flee from danger. But the black rhinos? They’re the ones that’ll charge at you just for fun.”

She cracked a grin. “So my brain’s been black rhinoed?”

“You could say that,” Joe agreed, his hand lifting from her arm to fall to her thigh, squeezing gently, tugging her closer. “Is there anything you’d like me to do to help with that?”

She finished off her glass, setting it aside with a clink against the coaster. “I don’t want to think. I swear if I try to process one more thing, my brain’s going to short circuit.” She let out a small laugh, but it was tinged with weariness.

Joe took a moment to think, feeling her fingers loop with his, playing with the calloused skin of his palm. He knew her, knew she didn’t want to talk about her day, didn’t want to sit and stew in her thoughts. She needed something more visceral, something that would help her let go of the stress that clung to her and pulled her muscles taut. “Well, sitting in these clothes isn’t helping,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “Let’s get you out of them, figure out where to go from there.”

She didn’t protest as Joe helped her to her feet, her body leaning heavily into his as he guided her to their bedroom. Joe took his time unbuttoning her cardigan, sliding it off her shoulders, and placing it gently on the bed. He kissed the nape of her neck as she reached down to lift the navy blue scrub top from her torso. She stepped out of her shoes and pants, leaving a trail of clothes that seemed to mirror the trail of frustration she’d brought home with her.

“Could I try something?” Joe murmured against her ear, his hands clutching her hips, pulling her flush against him. He felt the heat radiating from her body, her breath coming out in small gasps as he nibbled the lobe of her ear. She nodded, eyes still closed, trusting him implicitly.

She shuddered against him, her breath puffing from her lips as Joe’s hands trailed up her sides, his palms setting her skin ablaze as they grazed over her ribs and cupped her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples through the fabric of her bra, and she could feel the warmth of his chest pressing against her back. He was so good at this part, making her forget everything with just a touch.

Even as she fell against the cool sheets of their bed, Joe’s hands remained on her, fervently pressing into her flesh, his thumb pressing into her core, watching her soak through the fabric, and releasing the tension that had coiled in her body throughout the day. His mouth moved to her shoulder, placing a trail of kisses down the middle line of her torso, pausing at the edges of her underwear. He looked up at her, baby blues begging for permission that came in the form of a shaky, whispered please.

Her arousal stuck to the cotton as Joe peeled them down her legs, allowing them to slip from his fingers to land with the pile at the foot of the bed. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty before him: her skin, brown and soft, the way her thighs met at the apex, and the way her hips curved into the rest of her. His hands rubbed over her thighs, a deep inhale of breath through his nose reflecting the racing of the pulse in his ears. “I know you don’t wanna think, baby, but can you do something for me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, consent brightening the light in them. Joe didn’t wait for an answer. “Hold your legs back for me, let me work on your brain a little bit. Give you a good reset, yeah?” She nodded, compliant, allowing him to position her just how he liked. He parted her thighs, exposing the slickness of her arousal. He took another deep breath, his gaze lingering before he dipped his head. His nose skimmed her skin, inhaling her sweet scent before his tongue parted her folds.

The first sound that left her mouth was a long, soft moan as Joe’s tongue touched her. Her head fell back against the sheets, her eyes fluttering shut, a curse lacking any bite behind it leaving her lungs. She dug her fingertips into her thighs, undoubtedly sealing crescents into her skin. She felt a tremble in her legs as he began to lick and suck, his tongue swirling and flicking at a pace that was just shy of maddening. Her breathing grew ragged, her chest heaving as she felt every bud on his tongue, every nudge of his nose, every hot breath against her wetness.

He was locked in, unable to pull himself away even for a moment of teasing or praise. His praise was felt in the way his tongue danced against her clit, pressing harder, then retreating slightly, dipping down to circle her entrance. His praise was felt in the way he buried his face deeper in her ocean, her slick glistening against the lower half of his face, the way his face shook from side to side, needing to feel her cool his heated skin. His praise was solidified in the slurp that echoed through their room as he drew her folds into his mouth, her juices slipping over his tongue and coating his throat.

Her breathing grew louder, her moans more pronounced, and she felt the beginnings of a climax swell within her. Her hands reached down, grabbing Joe’s hair, twisting and pushing his face closer to her, urging him on, as if she could get him to go any deeper. His nose nudged at her pelvic bone, and she felt the vibrations of his groan resonate through her core. The first wave of her orgasm crashed over her, making her back arch and her legs shake. Her thighs clamped down around his head, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even pause for breath. He just kept licking, kept sucking, pushing her into the second wave before the first had even finished crashing.

Two fingers breached her, curling and pumping, setting a rhythm that matched the relentless assault of his tongue. Her moans grew more urgent, her hips jerking upward to meet his mouth. She could feel her walls tightening, she could feel his thumb holding firmly against the button of her clit, she could feel everything.

“Joey, oh fuck, it’s too much…” she whined, but the way her body quivered against him told a different story. He could feel her getting closer, the walls of her pussy pulsing around his fingers. He knew she was close, so close, but he wasn’t going to let her off that easy. Not until she was begging.

He pulled back for a moment, just enough to let the cool air kiss her drenched folds, to let her catch her breath. His eyes watched the slick slide of his index and middle fingers as they curled within her. He knew she was sensitive now, so close, so he took his time, watching the way she squirmed and panted.

“Hold on, baby, almost there,” Joe murmured, meeting her eye as he bit the inside of her thigh. She let out a yelp of surprise that morphed into a moan as he latched back onto her clit, sucking hard and flicking his tongue in a way that had her vision swimming. She grasped the strands of his hair, her legs shaking as she fought not to close them around his head again.

“Keep ‘em open for me, sweetheart. Need to watch this pretty pussy come apart for me,” Joe mumbled, his voice muffled against her wetness. The command made her eyes fly open, and she stared down at him, watching his eyes flick up to hers every few moments to make sure she was still with him, still watching him as he ate her out like he was starving.

“Shit,” her breath faltered, her thighs involuntarily squeezing around his neck, her entire body tensing. “Joe—I…” her words trailed off into a series of breathy moans as he took her to the brink again.

Joe responded by allowing his fingers to retreat from her quivering pussy, his mouth still feasting on her clit. He watched as she squirmed, her hands tightening in his hair, her thighs trying to close around his head. He chuckled, the vibrations sending another shiver through her. “You’re so greedy, baby. So fucking greedy.” His arm reached up, pushing her knee back, keeping her wide open for him. “But I want to hear it. Tell me you’re gonna cum for me again.”

“I’m gonna cum for you… I’m gonna cum again… just like that… oh god…” her voice was a desperate whisper, her eyes locked onto his, her entire being focused on the pleasure that was building rapidly within her. He pulled a lip between his teeth, watching the way her pupils dilated, watching her chest rise and fall with each stuttered breath.

Her hips bucked off the bed, and Joe knew she was close. He didn’t let up, his tongue flicking, his mouth sucking, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub in a way that had her toes curling and her nails digging into his scalp. He could feel her hips grind against his face, her desperate attempts to get more, to push him harder, faster. “Gonna take what you need from me? That’s it, baby. Ride my tongue until you’re screaming my name, honey,” he encouraged, pulling back for a moment to spit on his hand before rubbing it into her clit. The added slickness made her jolt, a gasp ripping from her chest. “You like that shit, huh?”

She followed his instruction, her legs shaking with the effort to stay open, her breath hitching as the pressure grew. She felt the beginnings of her second climax, the tightening in her core, the way her muscles spasmed around his mouth. Her eyes rolled back into her head, a scream building in her throat. Joe pressed his tongue flat against her, feeling the pulse of her release as her body tensed and released. He waited, watching her, feeling her ride through the waves of pleasure before her hips began to stutter and slow.

He felt her thighs quiver, her breath hitch, her voice crack around ‘yes’ as she climaxed a second time, her body pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. He didn’t pull away immediately, instead letting his tongue glide gently over her sensitized flesh, savoring the taste of her release. When she finally moved to push his head away from her, Joe relented, tasting the slick mixture of his saliva and her release coating the inside of her thighs.

“Joe,” she whined, continuing to push him back.

He grinned up at her, licking his lips, feeling more than a bit smug at his handiwork. “I think that might do it.”

Her chest heaved as she took deep, ragged breaths, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. She glared at him, trying to keep the smile from her face, but it was clear she felt better. “Might?” she laughed, pushing herself up on her elbows. “You think that might do it?”

Joe’s smug smile grew as he leaned forward, finding the back of her head and pressing another kiss to her forehead. “Anything to de-rhino your brain, baby. Can’t half-ass a job like that, can I?” He pressed his thumbs into her thighs, feeling the tense muscles ease as she melted into the bed, her breaths evening out.

“I guess not,” she said with a sigh, her voice heavy with pleasure. She felt boneless and relaxed, the tension of the day a distant memory. She watched as Joe licked his fingers clean, his eyes closing in satisfaction at the taste of her. “You’re insane.”

Joe just shrugged. “You love me.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She watched Joe climb over her, his body moving with a grace she never grew tired of. “Do I?” she questioned playfully.

“Oh, it’s like that?” Joe murmured as he hovered over her, his head dipping to trace the line of her jaw with the tip of his nose. Se felt him shift his weight onto his hands, planted on either side of her. “You need some convincing?”

She couldn’t help but smile, the tension in her body continuing to release as she felt the weight of his body press into hers. He kissed her then, deep and slow, his tongue stroking hers in a silent promise of more to come. She tasted herself on him, a little bit of salt and a whole lot of Joe. “I could be convinced,” she murmured against his mouth.

#&. joe x doctor!reader: blurbs.#&. joey b.#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow x black!reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfiction #joeyb #joey burrow #joey b #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow series

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telephoniii · 1 day ago

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Platonic!diasomnia reaction to malleus's little sister (y/n) saying "I wanna marry silver when I grow up!" How would they react?

THE WEDDING FIASCO

☆彡 in which malleus's sister wants to marry silver

platonic!diasomnia + malleus's little sister

word count: 190 per character + a 250 scenario at the end

tags: probably ooc but I had fun writing this, platonic, crackfick/very unserious

a/n: possibly the silliest thing I've written. i was going for normal headcanons and it spiraled out of control. lot's of fun little shenanigans. i hope you enjoy :>

sebek zigvolt

Well, Sebek's completely devoted to his master, Malleus. And Malleus's sister is an extension of Malleus to some extent... "Silver! Marry the young girl at once!" "What!?" After the initial shock, Sebek is a little offended by the fact she chose Silver over him. I mean, what attracted her to Silver and not him? He's the superior choice! He's way better at protecting Malleus compared to his lazy, human counterpart! Subconsciously starts doing cool stuff in front of the young girl to try and change her mind. Ironically, he tries to do moves that he's yet to master and falls on his ass. Tries to play it off like it didn't hurt that much when in front of Malleus's sister but once he's out of her sight he's crying. Sebek has no idea why he's vying for the attention of a child, but he's determined to win. At least it helps him get his practice in? With time he'll grow out of this 'phase' but he still doesn't like the thought that this child thinks Silver is the cooler attendant.

lilia vanrouge

Finds the situation very funny. "Sure you will, sweetheart." He teases Silver a lot, telling him he'd better find a partner soon before Lilia marries him off to the young girl. He'll tease Malleus too. "Your sister is fresh out of her egg and she's already found love before you~" Of course, he does have a bit of a fatherly possessiveness over her though. For as much as he teases, he starts having Silver around her less and less, sending him off to attend to Malleus while Sebek watches the young girl. He knows there's no chance in the universe that Silver and Malleus's sister would get together. It's just... dad instincts. The longer this goes on, the more he'll start saying things like, "No boys until you're ruling the kingdom." It gets to a point where the young girl starts crying because Malleus told her a relationship like that wouldn't work. Lilia swears he's turning gray. He tries to calmly explain to the girl that she's way too young and that another boy (or girl) will appear later down the road. In short? Found it funny at first but once it starts to drag on longer he's getting STRESSED.

malleus draconia

Oh! How peculiar. "A relationship between a Draconia and their attendant wouldn't work. Especially one of such a large age gap." He states like it's the most obvious thing in the world right next to his sister— crushing the young girl's dreams. Malleus really didn't have any malice when he said that. It was merely just him thinking aloud. He didn't anticipate for his younger sister to start crying. Malleus didn't know how to handle her and tossed her to Lilia. After hearing how much trouble Lilia is having calming her down, Malleus actually thinks about it for a moment. "Silver? How would you feel marrying a fae?" "... Please tell me you're not seriously considering it." An actual marriage might be troublesome, so Malleus proposes the idea of a fake marriage. Have her think she's married to Silver when in reality it's all just pretend. It's not like Silver is getting an actual partner anytime soon. With a snap of the fingers, he's arranged a fake bridal venue set up. Malleus easily gathered guests to attend and prepared a beautiful white dress for his sister. Is it way overboard for a fake wedding? 100%. But whatever makes his sister stop crying.

silver

The man of the hour. Unbothered at first. Might get a little flustered and murmur a 'Thank you', but that's about it. Everyone gets silly crushes sometime in their life, don't they? He doesn't really entertain her but doesn't avoid her. The guy just does his job. It's not until the other three start acting different where he's starting to get worried. The fact that Sebek and Malleus have both asked him to marry the young girl makes him panic a bit. He doesn't want to be the guy to marry a girl when he's twice her age?! Dragon years or not, that girl is way too young for him! He did not sign up for this. Silver considers asking someone, anyone, to date him so that he could just turn down the young girl gently. When Malleus proposes the idea of a fake marriage? Oh Silver wishes this was a dream. What do you mean he has to fake marry her. WHAT. Silver could never imagine arguing with Malleus, but he is mortified. He agreed only to get the young girl to stop crying. But internally he's the one crying.

Wedding bells ring at NRC and students are lined up in chairs, watching intently as Silver stands in front of everyone in a suit and tie. He's unbelievably tense. This is the one event where he isn't dozing off. And it's the one event where he wants to.

The Prefect soon rises to take the mic with a smile. They look down at the paper on the podium and begin reading. "Hello! Today we are gathered to celebrate the marriage of Silver and... Ms. Draconia?"

Malleus may or may not have forgotten to tell the guests that this was a fake marriage.

Suddenly, the doors burst open as Malleus's little sister walks down the aisle in white. Jaws are to the floor; there are whispers asking, "Is this legal??" None of it matters as the young girl takes her place to stand across Silver. The Prefect gives both of them concerned glances and contemplates whether or not to continue. Very hesitantly, they do.

"... Ms. Draconia, do you take Silver to be your wedded husband till death?" "I do!" The Prefect shoots Silver a what the hell is going on look before lifting the mic back up to their mouth to speak once more.

"And, Silver, do you take Ms. Draconia to be your wedded wife? Till death do you part?" "...Sure."

The Prefect now looks very disturbed as they clear their throat and continue to read off the paper.

"... Cool. Now, any objections?"

The entire room raises their hand.

Needless to say, the girl got over her crush.

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kaitlyn-imagines · 2 days ago

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Hello long time fan of your MHA fics here. Can I request a platonic Saja boys babysitting Nezuko!reader together who is Rumi's little sister? I feel like they haven't encountered a cute but powerful child demon before <3

Aww, hi there, hello hello! I'm so happy to still have you around my corner of tumblr! 😊❤️ I love that, has my heart all happy right now haha. When I tell you, I had SOOO much fun writing this. I've been the cool, hip young auntie since I was 13, so I definitely incorporated some of my experiences here. Hope you enjoy! It's all so cute hehe, fluff to the max! 😉🙈💓

Platonic!Saja Boys babysitting Rumi's half-demon sister!reader

Warnings: flufffffff, child!reader, humor and antics, platonic, minor Jinu backstory angst, third pov instead of second this time 🤷‍♀️

Jinu:

When he first agreed to babysitting duty, he thought, ‘how hard could it be?’ He could handle all of Rumi’s moods just fine, so surely the bite-sized version of her would be just as easy to manage.

Except, when Rumi knocked on their door with a small, patterned girl clinging to her leg, he realized one fatal flaw—he hadn’t counted on her little sister also being half demon.

Despite this unexpected turn of events, Jinu is great with her. He’s easily able to get Rumi’s little sister out of her shell, transforming her from a quiet and shy girl, into a giggling, bright-eyed ball of energy.

He’s more than willing to play any games with her, and if they’re playing pretend, he’ll play his part well with a goofy voice that makes her laugh.

About halfway through, Jinu lets the other boys handle the babysitting so he can step outside and take a few minutes for himself.

Despite how good he is with kids…this whole evening has reminded him of his own little sister all those centuries ago, of her smile, her innocent laugh.

And with these memories, the familiar, damning guilt comes crawling back.

After a while, Abby steps out to check on him. “You okay, man?” he’ll ask, a mildly concerned expression on his face.

And Jinu will just flash a charming smile and nod as if nothing’s wrong…as if the presence of this bubbly little girl hasn’t totally broken his heart with the reminder of his loss…and of his mistakes.

“Yeah, just needed a breather. Let’s head back in, I promised her we’d all play Mariokart.”

Abby:

Abby hasn’t had many opportunities to interact with children before, so when Jinu told him they’d all be babysitting Rumi’s little sister or whatever, he was a little unsure about the whole thing.

What do kids even do? Just run around with unwashed hands, make messes, and make everyone uncomfortable with their lack of manners and spatial awareness…

Swear to god, he saw some young boy open-mouth cough on all the apples in the produce section when he was at the store the other day. He expects much of the same for tonight’s events.

Except, when the young girl arrives, he’s surprised to see the tell-tale patterns marring her skin. She was…far too young to have made a deal with Gwi Ma. So, she must be half human, like Rumi.

Still, the sight of a child demon is enough to stun him into good behavior… he interacts awkwardly and clumsy with her, not sure how to make conversation with such a young child.

But then, Jinu gets this board game set up for everyone to play, and the little thing points her grubby finger at him.

He fully panics. “What does she want?”

“To be on your team, dummy.”

And Abby is naturally competitive, so the game really helps him to loosen up and start enjoying himself. He starts to bond with her more, encouraging her as she rolls the dice, making her laugh when he trash-talks Baby and Romance’s team.

By the end of the night when she’s tuckered out and sleepy-eyed, he’ll carry her to one of the bedrooms so she can sleep until Rumi comes to pick her up. He won’t admit it, but he’s sad to see her go.

Baby:

He doesn’t have much of an initial reaction when Rumi brings out the small demon girl for them to watch for the night. He barely glances over with a bored expression before he turns his attention back to his phone.

He’ll let Jinu handle the young girl, since he was the one who agreed to Rumi’s request.

But then, a small voice next to him quietly asks to “go back up to the cat video” and he startles to see that the girl had somehow snuck onto the couch next to him, and was watching him scroll.

Geez, he hadn’t even noticed her sitting there! She was inhumanely quiet and stealthy, much to his surprise. He was impressed, honestly.

He’ll scroll back to the cat video as she requested, smirking when she coos and fawns over the “cute kitty.”

The boys are trying to get boxed macaroni and cheese cooked for her, and struggling by the sounds of it if the arguing in the kitchen was any indication.

It’s then he gets an idea…

Hey, he’s not the best influence, and he never claimed to be.

Baby convinces the girl to do little acts of mischief with him, much to her utter delight. Whether it be, “go up to Abby and tell him he looks like he doesn’t know how to swim” or “go ask Jinu to get you Yakult from the store, he won’t do it if I ask.”

Little demon partners in crime. The other boys would get tired of the antics if it wasn’t so cute seeing the typically-aloof rapper getting along so well with the giggling little girl. She thinks he’s a cool grown up!

Romance:

He’s probably the most enthusiastic about the baby-sitting gig out of the whole group. He’s always had a soft spot for kids, though he never had much experience with them.

When he first sees the patterns scarred across her arms and legs, he’s totally amazed. He didn’t even think a demon child was possible! Demons were always made by binding deals…and never did it involve children. She was something special.

Besides Jinu, he’s the best at striking up conversation with her. Asks her about her friends, about school, about her favorite things to play…he’s sooo tempted to ask her about her demon patterns because he’s curious, but he doesn’t think it’d be appropriate.

He’ll enjoy playing dress up and watching her play so imaginatively. He genuinely likes spending time with her, wants Rumi to bring her cute sister around more often!

When she draws a picture for him, he acts like it belongs in the Louvre. Over the top appreciation, it’s the best gift ever! And she’s got this cheesy lil smile at the praise.

By the end of the night, Rumi is taking her sister home, asking if she had fun with the boys… and the sweet girl definitely has one of those innocent little-kid school crushes that she’ll grow out of, but everyone will still tease her about when she’s older.

Mystery:

He’s intrigued by Rumi’s little sister, watching with thinly-veiled interest as Jinu greets the girl and helps her get settled in their luxury condo.

Will watch her from across the room until Romance elbows him for staring too long.

It’ll take some time before he gathers the confidence to approach, but he’ll walk over to where she’s drawing with crayons and crouch down next to her.

Just bluntly asks, “were you born a demon?” and a moment later something clatters in the kitchen when Jinu drops it. He’s about to go scold Mystery for the rudeness, but then the little girl pipes up.

“Yeah! You have markings too, that’s so cool! Were you born a demon too?” all smiles and energy, and like Mystery, she’s lacking the social awareness that most adults possess when navigating uncomfortable topics.

“No, I sold my soul,” Mystery will just shrug like this is the most normal thing to say.

“Did you get money for it?” she asks in all seriousness, eyes large with curiosity.

And boom, he’s an uncle now. Right then and there, because she’s adorable and he wants her to keep looking at him like she trusts him—like how all kids intrinsically tend to trust those guardians in charge of their care. Or, like…a pet.

Spoils her, sneaks her sweets even when it’s too late for them and it’s definitely keeping her up past her bed time with a raging sugar rush. Will fight one of the other boys if they tell her ‘no’ or win a game against her.

Cue pouting when it’s time for her to leave.

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peachmangoenergon · 2 days ago

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omg yes!! I love this version of them so much! (The first picture of jazz on the balcony is literally my wallpaper lol) I love that we get to see a more somber version of Jazz who’s clearly struggling with the harsh realities of war and the Optimus-sized burden he has to bear.

Also, the way Jazz and Prowl are so in sync is just so fun to read! Technically Prowl should have been in charge with Optimus gone, but they both just agree that Jazz would be better at it. And you can clearly see why:

One of the first things Prowl does in All Hail Megatron is get into a fight with Ironhide, and Jazz has to break them up. Jazz might be more subdued in this version, but he’s still charismatic and respected by others. Meanwhile Prowl, who’s a little more snarky than he usually is, is still the numbers guy. He isn’t good with people the way Jazz is, and he doesn’t command the same kind of respect.

The two of them know this, and so they both agree to play to their strengths. Jazz is the leader, trying his best to boost morale and keep everyone together, and Prowl plays a supportive role, giving Jazz information and advice. He’s clearly sensitive to the heavy load Jazz is carrying, and he’s doing his best to take some of the pressure off him. I think this dynamic works really well, and I love the unspoken understanding they have with each other!

you know, it's so funny to me that in the early idw pj kinda appeared before us in opposite of how the fandom usually describes and writes their relationship. jazz is a stoic gloomy leader, suffering under the weight of responsibility, having a difficult relationship with faith, the people around him and the whole world, lost in his thoughts, in darkness, dreaming of peace and solitude. a prudent, serious, tired and lonely warrior

while prowl is the one who desperately tries to remain optimistic and hopeful, not because he sincerely believe in a better outcome, but because that is what his partner needs right now. prowl is the one who seeks contact, closeness, the one who emits support and care, who fights jazz's demons, who sees so much more in him, when others can't or don't want to. and prowl is the one whose feelings and enthusiasm are not shared (right people in the wrong time)

ohhh, all these little interactions between my guys here are absolutely amazing. prowl literally has some kind of sixth sense that lets him know when someone is being rude to his BEST FRIEND, and then in a second he teleports to the place ready to defend jazz's honour! and jazz. jazz is so embarrassed and confused by such fervor. he thanks him dimly, wishing to quickly escape back to some dark hidden balcony to indulge in sadness alone... what actually is unlikely to happen now, as prowl had decided that he would follow him like a freaking shadow, never letting him out of his sight. oh lord, oh lord! prowl overhears some positive news and immediately rushes to share it with jazz, hoping to see him smiling again. jazz, who's already sick of such attention, smirks slightly and thanks copbot, silently begging the universe for this guy to finally leave, find something else to do and stop bothering him. you know those cute but clingy dogs? that's how prowl behaves. brilliant, absolutely brilliant

#I literally love this comic so much #I might make more posts about it in the future #my posts

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alexiroflife · 17 hours ago

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i can also relate to the abusive ex request unfortunately. would absolutely love that prompt they requested if you feel comfortable with it. you have a certain gentle touch to these topics in your wonderful works

"i'm here"

fluff, best friends to lovers, angst / comfort, flirty - protective - soft toji, intense depictions of violence (the man doesn't play about you, he k*lls your abuser)

Synopsis: toji has been dying to take you on a date, but you've been turning him down for months. when you finally agree to let him take you out, he comes to understand why you've been so keen on pushing him away

to sum it up: your abusive ex-boyfriend can't stand the prospect of you moving on, but toji can't stand a cowardly excuse for a man who can't take no for an answer

WC: 9,844

Warning(s): mentions / depictions of abuse, triggering content / subject matter, trauma

"Go out with me."

You almost choke on your drink as you sputter with a snort, having found Toji's absurd, yet persistent, remark much funnier than he had anticipated it to land. Nevertheless, he knows this game with you. He'll catch you off guard wherever the two of you are by making a move, rushing in rather abruptly - having interrupted a completely unrelated train of thought or conversation - just for him to let you reject him with your scrutinizing gaze and the quirk of your lips upward. And despite him technically losing the game every chance he gets, he knows by the flush of your (s/c) skin that you are never entirely opposed to or disgusted by his advances.

After all, the two of you are closer with one another than you ever have been with anyone else. He knows that even though you two throw about the label of pals like it's second-nature, no friendship can amount for the tender way you tuck his ten year old son into bed when he comes home late at night from a grueling assignment, drenched in another man's blood and eyes sagging with the weight of heavy bags. The sight alone of you caressing the messy-haired brat's head gently is enough for him to convince himself that you could be the next mother of his kids, that he could seriously consider building further upon this family with you.

No friendship can explain how he jumps at the moment to see you. How the second his phone lights up with the picture he took of you at that cherry blossom festival last spring, the one where you have pink petals littered softly into your hair and your nose is scrunched adorably, your expression exhibiting your discomfort with nature interfering with the work you put toward your appearance that day, he's scrambling to answer.

Your squinted eyes glimmer up into the camera from the angle he snapped the photo overhead, making your forehead appear bigger than it truly is - though he likes to tease you by making fun of your head's size, claiming that it's bigger than the goddamn moon. He remembers you punching him square in the arm every time he pulls out the weak insult just to get a rise out of you. No friendship can amount for how carefully he studies that image, how swiftly he made it your contact picture, and how he swipes up his device in his hand to answer your call when it appears, just as swiftly. His heart always thumps with the anticipation of hearing your voice through the line, inquiring about his day or offering help with the kids if he needs it or simply asking if he wants to go for a ride or spend time together.

The very way in which he looks at you can not be explained by such a feeble concept, for his chin often takes occupancy in the base of his palm propped by his elbow as slim, jaded eyes gazing at you through heavy lids. A slow smirk graces his lips and curves at his scar, something you know to be just as mischievous as it is affectionate. He'll cling to your every word when you speak, expression appearing lazy, but it weighs so heavily upon your soul like a syrup sinking into sweet batter.

And friendship surely does not account for how Toji would drop everything for you the second you need him. How he would swoop in at the drop of a hat, at the very moment you are distressed or need any kind of saving. If a relentless sleeze is making you uncomfortable when your roaming out at night - though he absolutely hates the thought of it, having voiced that to you multiple times and insisting that he accompany you whenever you make late night runs to the store; if a mechanic is trying to rip you off by adding extra and inexplicable charges to your bill when all you went into the shop for was a simple oil change; if you've drunk a few too many and you insist you'll get an uber home when he argues that he would rather just pick you up instead and take you home himself, the man is there in a heartbeat. He's everywhere, ensuring that you know that he is there for you when you insist upon doing things on your own.

Toji admires the woman you are above all else. His respect for you is the very foundation of his attraction to you, as it is one of the reasons the two of you grew so close together in the first place - mutual respect. It's the way you carry yourself, the way you shoulder your burdens and push on, the way you love so carefully and cautiously on the outside yet so wholly and unconditionally on the inside, the way he knows that you have been hurt by the fact that you continue to try to keep him at an arm's distance whenever he tests the boundaries of your 'friendship' and pushes ever so slightly, only doing so because he sees the way you look at him, feels the warmth in the way you touch him, watches you shrink into yourself with bashfulness everytime his lips touch your temple and the nicknames he has chosen specifically for you tumble from his lips and through your ears. He knows that you try to tame the limits to which you care for him because you are scared of something, but he simultaneously sees that you don't let those fears interfere with the way you treat him - the way you are there for him and his family, the way you attempt to love him silently despite the signs.

You are such a raw, strong, honest woman. Surely, he can not diminish the fact that you are a friend to him before all else, the closest one he's ever had, but you are also the woman he plans to marry one day. Long after you've lowered those walls of yours, after you've relieved yourself of whatever weight you're carrying for him to shoulder as well, and after you've finally agreed to just one date with him.

But until then, he'll keep asking every now and again.

"Don't go dyin' on me now," Toji tilts his head as you clear your through, swiping the back of your hand across your mouth. "You can't be that surprised. It's my third time askin' in two months."

Once you've gathered your composer, you press your lips together bashfully and give him a look out of the side of your eye. He only widens his cheeky smile, shifting in the park bench the two of you reside on. His toned arm stretches out behind you, fingers grazing the back of your shoulder as his long legs sprawl out on the grass before him.

You're leaning back against the bench rest, hardly ever shying away from his looming presence beside you. The smoothie the dark-haired man had bought you earlier is now clutched tightly within your grasp, as it was almost the reason for your demise mere moments ago (though Toji was truly to blame).

Tsumiki and Megumi run about on the playground before the two of you, playfully chasing one another and constructing their own imaginary game about who can reach the bottom of the slide the fastest. Tsumiki, ever the particular preteen, is quick to pull out her watch to play as fairly as possible by the very rules she invented as her brother glares daggers into her head.

"Toji," you roll your eyes, a hint of a smile ghosting your lips as you sigh. "Give it up, already. It's never gonna happen."

"Never, huh?" he repeats your statement, though having registered the lightness in your tone. "Never's a real long time."

"Yeah. It is," you agree.

"S'nothin' I ain't willing to wait for you, though. You're gonna have to try harder at getting rid of me if that's what ya really want."

You suck your teeth in feigned annoyance. "I mean it, Fushiguro. Quit it."

"You say that every time."

"And every time I mean it."

"Hm." The green-eyed assassin puckers his lips forward, teeth gnawing away at the toothpick he'd picked up at the foodstand the four of you had eaten at long before arriving at the park. He looks up to the kids, then peers back down at you. You're looking at him with a skeptical look, as if you know he's still scheming. You can see the gears in his mind turning, and he keeps your gaze.

"I can already tell you're about to be a smartass about something," you comment.

Toji's hands toss up momentarily as if to question you nonverbally, 'what gives?' His tongue maneuvers the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "Nah, it's just... are you plannin' on rejectin' every poor sap who wants to treat you nice or just me?"

"Just you."

"Mhm. Very funny."

You snicker to yourself quietly and press your straw back to your lips. Your eyes linger on Toji's face and he lifts the hand resting by your shoulder, reaching around to brush an imaginary spec from your cheek. You blink, your lashes fluttering softly as you turn away, hiding your now shy gaze like you always do.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you for a while.

"How about just dinner."

"That's still a date, Fushiguro."

"I know. That's the point."

"Stop messing around," you nudge at his side. "You've got a million things to worry about instead of trying to take me out on a date."

"Now you know that ain't true. If I did I wouldn't be askin.'"

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because I wanna take you out, girl," he retorts rather sassily, and you give him another look. He chuckles, removing his toothpick and tossing it to the ground. "Why's there gotta be another reason?"

"I don't know," you shrug. "You're being too persistent with this. It's freaking me out."

"I'm only persistent because I'm serious about you. You should know that."

The sound of the breeze brushing generously through the trees, accompanied by the shifting shadows of the leaves through the sun, fill the background along with the voices of the kids as they argue about something they'll likely forget in two minutes.

You exhale loudly, your heart beginning its usual pounding in your ears. "You gotta stop saying stuff like that, Toj. We're friends, don't go getting the wrong idea."

"I don't have the wrong idea, doll."

"Yes you do. Clearly you do."

Toji looks at you as you stare forward. "Gimme an actual answer to my question."

"What question?" you mumble.

"Is it me or not?"

You scrunch your nose and meet his eye again. "Huh?"

"In all the time I've known your stubborn ass, I've never seen you give a man the time of day. And you never talk about your love life except for when you turn down a guy for hittin' on ya. So is it me or are you against datin' completely?"

You take in his question for a moment and twist your lips, looking up to the sky, then him, the kids, then back to him. Toji watches you shift around as though the prospect of love torments you just as much as it grounds you. "We shouldn't date, Toj."

"That wasn't my question. C'mon, stubborn-ass."

You cast him another look and part your lips slowly. "No. No, it's not you."

"Figured that much."

"Uh huh, but don't let it go to your head, alright? Us being together still would only happen in your wildest dreams."

He grins. "Mmm, and I got some real wild dreams."

You flush and shove at him again. "Shut the fuck up. God, you're a pain."

"Keep talkin'," he urges you with a soft look in his eye, intermingling with his slyness. "Lemme hear more 'bout this stuff. You never talk about it."

"There's a reason for that."

"I know there is."

You relax slightly, tilting your head back to watch the clouds roll by. Your head brushes his arm, and Toji involuntarily brings his arm around you. He quirks a brow at the image of his daughter stretching her hand out to Megumi, who glares at it with disdain before begrudgingly clasping it in acceptance. Lord, he procreated some dramatic ass kids.

"Talk, mama," he tells you again. "Ain't no judging here. You know that."

"I just don't..." you struggle momentarily, thumbs soothing over the condensation of your plastic cup. "I don't like dating. I don't like any of it."

"Yeahh, well, neither do I. Y're not the only one."

You cock a brow. "Oh really? Then why keep asking me out, hypocrite? To play some stupid joke on me?"

"I keep askin' you out because it's you, not anyone else. I don't got time for anyone but you."

Your heart pangs and you groan, cursing the very feeling within your blood that is screaming your affections internally. "I hate when you get like this, you know."

"Like what?" he smirks again.

"All flirty and shit. It's gross. You've seen me throw up my entire dinner after the bar, remember? That's the me you know. You wouldn't flirt with me then, so stop acting like we're any different from that."

"We're not any different from that. I'd hold your hair back while ya puke your guts out any day. And you still looked fine as fuck doin' it."

"Toji," you growl, skin flustering by the second. Toji laughs lowly, clearly enjoying his torment of you. He ducks down to kiss your temple softly, a poor apology as it only makes your body warmer.

"I know why I don't like datin', (Y/n), but why don't you?"

You look at him quizzically. "Why don't you date?"

"Uh-uh. I asked you first."

"Yeah, but-" you scoff. "Whatever. I just think it's a waste of time."

"'Cause you got those eyes set on me and me only, right?"

"No," you drawl. "Because it takes up too much trust, and energy, and time. I don't think... I don't like the idea of committing your life like that to someone. Especially if they could hurt you."

Your eyes grow distant, and Toji ducks slightly to see more of you. "A date isn't commitin'."

"It always becomes that, though."

"For you, maybe. Y're a sap."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Toji ponders your words. "Our relationship takes trust, energy, 'n time too."

You take a moment to respond. "Yeah, I know that."

"I trust you with my life. I trust ya with the kids' lives. You're the only person I trust in this damn world other than myself."

"I know, Toji. I trust you too."

His eyes grow stony with earnest. "Nd you know I'd never hurt you. I'd die before I did that shit."

"I know."

"I'd kill for you, too."

When you look back at him, you watch the sea of jade dance vibrantly in his gaze as it swaddles you in the authenticity of his firm words. You get lost in them, as you often do, allowing those emerald eyes to wrap you up in the promises you know to be true. "I know."

"So then what's really the problem?" he murmurs. "Forget what I said about other guys. No one would get a chance to treat ya as good as I would. What's so bad about goin' out with me?"

You swallow hard, eyes shining as you watch him.

His eyes dart over your face, tracing over every detal. "Hm? You don't like me?"

"Don't be an asshole."

"How am I bein' an asshole?"

"You know damn well how."

"Alright. If I'm really just your friend, then say so, but I know I ain't. So what's the issue?"

Toji has never shyed away from how he feels about you. He's blunt and vulgar, for he's got nothing to hide. He already intends to spend the rest of his days with you, therefore, he does not see any reason in pretending like you aren't the only one for him - like he doesn't want to take care of you - like he doesn't want to treat you right.

He's always been this way. While there are moments when he is more intense about it than others, you've always seen the way Toji looks at you. You're not an idiot, nor is he.

"It has nothing to do with you," you say.

"Then who's it got to deal with? Your ex?"

Toji watches your body involuntarily freeze. He knows he can be candid. Hell, it's one of the very traits that identify him. He says what he thinks and what he sees without thinking twice, for there is never a need to hesitant when he's got the words, when he knows what he wants, what he sees.

But he also knows that he can be a little harsh sometimes, while he's never made any explicit plans to change his approach until he sees you stiffen.

He knows then he should have treaded a bit more lightly.

Toji doesn't know much at all about your past relationship. He only knows that things ended poorly, that you walked away with a hardened heart, with the ambition to never feel what you felt when that piece of shit was with you.

You wanted so badly to become emotionally stunted, to be uncaring, to feel nothing after this man assumedly tormented you. But Toji finds time and time again that beneath your shell, behind your formidable walls, your heart remains fragile, for it was made for nurturing, for loving.

And he knows that's why whatever that man put you through hurt you so badly.

"Whoever hurt you ain't me, (Y/n)," he says sternly, and your eyes sharpen. You almost forgot how easily he can and always has seen right through you.

"Stop," you wave your hand weakly. "That's not - stop."

"I mean it. I know you ain't gonna open up about any of that, and I can respect it. There's shit I don't wanna talk about either, but if that's the whole reason, then I'm not gonna stop myself from reminding you who I am and who y'know me to be," he declares. "I'm you're best friend. Y're my girl and I care about ya as much as I care about those dumbass kids."

You look up to see what he is gesturing to and falter with a soft snort upon noticing they switched games, Megumi now stamping about as some kind of monster as Tsumiki watches agitatedly.

"I care about you guys too, Toji. I don't know where I'd be without you."

"So when I say I wanna take you out, I mean it. And I think that scares ya."

"Of course it fucking scares me, are you kidding?" you laugh to yourself. "I'm scared because... I don't know if I can do this again."

"You need ta calm down. I'm not askin' you to marry me. Not yet at least."

You snap your head up in disbelief. "What??"

"I'm just sayin," his words lift with an amused breath, holding out a steady free palm to ease you and hopefully lead you to forget about the words he let slip. "I'm only askin' for one night. Without the kids. Just you and me. We can get a drink or get somethin' to eat, then if y'wanna have another date after that, we'll go from there."

You close your eyes momentarily, shaking your head. "We drink and eat without the kids all the time anyway."

"See that? Might as well already be datin'."

You swat at his broad chest. "How for real are you about this?"

"God damn, girl, how many times do y'want me to say that I'm only serious when it comes to you?"

"I have to ask, Toji. You know that we're obviously gonna want another date if we go on one. You're not slick. Don't play with me."

The dark-haired Fushiguro grins. "I was never tryin' to be."

You sigh, grumbling incoherently under your breath, fighting every bone in your body that wants to run into him immediately. "I dunno about this."

"Look, if you hate it, I'll never ask ya again. We can pretend like the whole thing never happened and I'll leave it alone. How's that?" he offers. "All I'm askin' is for one date. Just one. After that, it's in your hands."

"It's in my hands, now," you say pointedly.

"It sure the hell is."

You smile lightly against your stubborn will, for you know it doesn't take much for Toji to persuade you. You had previously told yourself that this was the only matter you could not be swayed on, that you stood by your choice to be alone for as long as you possibly could, to avoid all semblance of romance and push forward on your own, having been traumatized so terribly by what you believed was love in the past.

But as the birds sing, the children play, and Toji's hand smoothes up and down your upper arm, deep down, you have always known that this is different. That this foreign warmth and security, the soft sternness, the consistent presence and desire to be there and help you break out of your comfort zone, to treat you as well as he already does as your friend, is not something to fear. You know so because they're all things that you never saw in the past, now overwhelming you with their truth.

You know this is what real love must be, and somehow it feels strangely undeserved. Like it doesn't fit in the palm of your hands, like it should be too good to be true. After all, Toji has been your friend longer than he's pursued you. He's shown you his true colors, his flaws, his nasty habits, his morals, his needs, his wants, his everything without thinking twice. He has no reason to hide from you, for you are the very reason he is so comfortable being himself in the first place. What you see with the bulking assassin is what you get, and with how well you know him, you love him with the same intensity.

That is surely what you are afraid of, knowing that you can trust him, knowing that he would never bring any harm to you, that he is a man of his word before anything else. He's shown you time and time again what you mean to him, that you are family, and the one thing that Toji does not play around about is his family.

You hesitate to allow yourself this happiness, the safety that has already been guaranteed for you the minute the two of you got to know each other.

But even more so, you fear the aftermath. You fear watchful eyes, you fear consequence, you fear what may come if you genuinely move on. It's been years since you've seen him, but the memory still looms close. Unsolicited messages from unsaved numbers still pop up on your phone. The prospect that you are still being monitored heavily weighs on your heart, and while you know that you should have told Toji about this, you've always feared his involvement.

Not for his safety. Surely not. But for your own. For how Toji's itch for violence in the name of your wellbeing could only navigate your ex's attention back to yourself.

You can hear it now, the familiar string of insults pouring through gritted teeth. Whore. Slut. Traitor.

You can feel the shadow of a fist making contact with long-faded bruises on your jaw, the harsh snap of your head following the sting of a hateful palm.

The guilt of an abuser's lies. The oppression of his lingering shadow. The immovable submission to the will of insecurities caused, the notion that you can do no better, the terror of reliving ramifications if you did.

It's been a lifetime, and you are still a puppet on a string, a child avoiding punishment, a victim fleeing from her offender.

"(Y/n)! Dad, look!"

You snap out of your daze, and the two of you look up to see the kids running toward you. Tsumiki is ahead as Megumi follows closely behind, and she presents something cupped in her small palms to both of you, huffing and puffing loudly.

"Y'gonna show us or are ya gonna keep breathin' like that in our faces?" Toji quips, leaning forward alongside you.

"Don't listen to him," you counter. "What have you got there?"

His daughter swallows harshly in an attempt to regulate herself as she brings her palms down. The four of you bring your heads together in a circle.

Fluttering lazily upon her skin is a butterfly with crystal-like black and white wings. A swallowtail having been captured by a ten and eleven-year-old.

Toji's face relaxes as you gasp softly, eight pairs of eyes gazing upon the creature in quiet awe.

"It was on the top of the slide," Megumi says, his voice hushed for the sake of the little insect. "I'm the one who found it."

"Yeah, but I caught it," Tsumiki counters, receiving a bored look from her brother.

"How pretty, you guys," you beam.

"Yeah, you held the poor sucker captive."

"Can we keep it?" the kids whisper, eyes glimmering with wonder.

"And do what with it?" Toji leans back. "You'll get bored of it in two seconds."

"We won't, dad," Megumi whines.

"A butterfly ain't a pet. It's just somethin' to look at. Neither of you are patient enough to look after that thing."

"I'm patient!" Tsumiki defends, to which her father chuckles.

"You're eleven. No such thing."

The kids voice their displeasure before turning to you hopefully. "(Y/n), tell him to let us keep it!"

You sigh, leaning forward on your knees. Toji's arm slips from your shoulders to resume its place across the back of the bench. "You heard the boss. I'm sorry."

They groan in unison, frowning fown upon their discovery.

"But, listen. You should be proud that you even caught a butterfly! You know how hard it is to do that?" you smile. "It's better to let it free when you do than try to take it home. Butterflies are supposed to be able to fly around freely. You don't wanna take that away from it, right? You want it to be happy!"

Tsumiki sinks down into a crouch, staring down at the butterfly as Megumi peers over her shoulder. "I guess so," she murmurs.

Your smile warms as you bring your hands to rub their heads consolingly. You get up from your seat and crouch with them, cupping your hands under Tsumiki's as she continues to cradle the insect.

"So let's go set it back. Okay?"

The kids nod, and Toji watches fondly as Megumi's hands join with yours. The three of you raise your arms into the air, propelling the butterfly forward carefully. It springs into flight, flapping graciously through the air, circling over your heads.

Tsumiki and Megumi gasp delightly, eyes following its trail as it flutters away. Megumi points eageryly as it fades. "There it goes! Look!"

"Bye, butterfly," Tsumiki waves, solemnly. "Come back tomorrow."

You stare off with a gentle smile as the swallowtail happily flaps toward the sun, free from captivity, free of plight.

Your heart swells, and when you turn to look at Toji, his eyes are already on you - filled with ardor despite his blank expression.

The kids get distracted again, running off as they decide to look for more bugs, and you get lost in their father's gaze for the umpteenth time.

You sigh, turning back to the sun. "Just one date?"

He smirks. "Just one, darlin'."

"Nothing fancy. I don't wanna feel like there's a stick up my ass all night."

"I already got a place in mind."

You purse your lips forward and crumble. "...I'll think about it."

And you did think about it.

Which is how you end up perched atop an overlook, gazing upon the city atop your car, takeout boxes from a new taco place that you've been yammering Toji's ear off about trying for weeks littered beside you.

You're warm, hands messily clutching your food as the view of the city dazzles you. City lights shine in your (e/c) eyes, your heart aching with satisfaction because Toji knows you too damn well. The sun eases itself beneath the horizon, milking the sky into a dark purple and pink haze. Distant sounds of the city are accompanied by the closer symphony of nature as crickets chirp and owls coo.

Soft jazz drones from your car's radio, stars awakening in the darkening sky. The night is blissful, serene, and intimate. It is everything Toji knows you to enjoy, as he had found this remote place a while back on a whim and had been waiting to bring you here for this very occasion only.

When Toji looks at you, he sees that quiet look in your eye and he knows he did good. You seem at peace. Your body appears light, your shoulders lose, your stomach full, your eyes lazy and glittery.

His hand lifts to your cheek, thumb grazing over your cheekbone as you tear your eyes from the view and meet his. You're mid-chew, and Toji's eyes crease with love as he takes in your face. You narrow your own, subconsciously looking with suspicion as you finishing chewing and swallow.

"You've been acting funny," you say softly, for the atmosphere the two of you have sunken into has lulled your senses and dazed your minds.

He hums, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "Funny how?" he mumbles.

"You're sappy," you swipe your thumb over the corner of your mouth, humor playing in your gaze. "I didn't know you had this in you."

"You ain't got a lick of faith in me, do ya?"

You smile brighter, bringing your shoulders upward. "I mean, I do now." You await a sassy quip, a snarky comment, but none comes. Instead, Toji just looks at you longingly, hand still holding the side of your face as if you are the most beautifully fragile thing he's ever touched. You scoff a nervous laugh, face lighting with heat as you attempt to brush him away. "Stop with that."

He grins. "Y're real pretty, y'know that?"

"Oh my god," you duck your head to shield your face, Toji's hand sliding from your cheek down to your back. "When did you get like this, Toji."

"The hell are you talkin' about?" he props his hand up on the hood of the car, just behind you, and his other elbow over his bent knee as his free leg dangles. "I've always been like this with you."

"Bullshit. You've gotten worse."

"Me lovin' on you really grosses you out that much, huh," he toys with you. You set your food down and bring your knees to your chest

"I mean... it's just that you were never a lovey-dovey person. You kill people for a living for god's sake."

"So what? I can feel for ya and my job at the same time," he says.

His response rings in your head, and you decide to relinquish your stubbornness and discomfort with such affection for just a moment. The air is too crisp, the view too stunning, the company too pleasant for you to deny that you take pleasure in this.

You feel completely happy, as if a weight is lifted from your shoulders. You and Toji eat and talk about anything, about everything, just as you always have been able to. Only tonight, romance lurks. It's clear in the lasting gazes, the way he traces over your hand with his thumb, the way his lips ghost your jaw and your ear as he kisses you, whispers things he knows will make you red.

And for once, you let him. For once, you fall into his trance willingly, you succumb to the effect he has always had on you because tonight is different. Toji's finally got you, freely loving you, and it's entangling you in his enticing web of admirations.

Such a violent, formidable man. Such an unfearing, deadly force before you, so soft, pliant, caring. So sweet and devoted, so unyielding with his desires for you and only you. It is strange how easily you turn him into this, but he doesn't mind anymore, because he knows you're his. He knows he has you. He knows there's never going to be anyone else, so why pretend? Why reject it when he can embrace it, fall into it in hopes of bringing you along with him?

He looks at you and sees starlight in your eyes. He sees a new sibling for his children, a wedding, a shared home, a long life of bliss with you, and it starts here.

It started with you going on this date with him, and loving it.

The two of you return to the city giddily, laughing loudly and bumping shoulders. Neither of you want the night to end just yet, for this floating feeling captures you completely and you subconsciously accept your fate in Toji's arms.

You momentarily break when you tell Toji that you have to pee, and he waits nearby as you slip into a public restroom. You have to round a concealed corner to reach the entrance, and Toji waits closeby on the other side of the building as he phones Satoru to ensure that the kids are asleep.

You hum a tune to yourself as you wash your hands, having finished your business, and you step outside to reunite with Toji only to stop when a figure blocks you.

"I found you."

You freeze, all color draining from your body. You think your heart stops, and suddenly you forget how to move. Suddenly, the night's events are tainted as they swiftly return to bite you in the ass, and for the first time, Toji is not here to save you.

"Still sleeping your way through the whole city, I see," your ex-boyfriend's tone drips with disgust, and the moment his voice registers, you shudder with the memory of his torment, so close to you now as it closes in on you.

With shrunken pupils and parted lips, you take an involuntary step back, pure horror striking your form. Your ex twists his nose up at you, empty eyes glowering darkly. You remember those eyes. You remember how they felt every time he verbally or physically assaulted you.

You pale. This can't be happening.

"W-What are you..." you stumble over your words, and you hate yourself. Nothing's changed. You're still a coward. Still his pet. "Why are you here..."

"I should be asking you that," he growls, stepping closer to you. You shuffle to the side quickly, darting fearfully. Your back is pressed to the brick wall, your heart racing as you watch him with wide eyes. "Got another guy trailing you around?" he snarls. "Whoring yourself off while you ignore my messages? Is that right? Unbelievable. Nothing's fucking changed with you."

"Leave me alone," you whisper shakily. "You shouldn't be here. H-How the fuck did you even find me?"

"An old friend told me. Said you were off prancing around with some guy and his kids here. Had to see it for myself."

You know he's lying. You know he just found a way to track you down, likely finding your place of work or a neighbor.

"Look at you. Still running from responsibility, trying to make me out to be the bad guy," he seethes. "I even forgave you for trying to run away two years ago. I really did, but then you go and repay me with this shit."

His voice is threatening to rise and you glance anxiously to the side, weary of Toji's presence just around the building. You know how this goes. You know this won't end well.

You should run. But something in your brain won't let you. Something is turning your legs to jelly the longer you stand there.

The most you can will yourself to do is shuffle your body against the wall, sliding slowly to the corner as your ex follows closely, caging in on you. "Don't try to fucking run from me again," he snaps, and you screw your eyes tight the moment he brings himself closer to you.

Your breathing grows uneven and rapid as you turn your head away, pressing yourself into the brick as hard as you can. He brings his arm over you, inching into your personal space little by little until his nose his brushing your cheek as he glares sharply, savoring your inferiority beneath him.

"Yeah," he clicks his tongue, tone dripping into something darker. "That's what I thought. You're not going anywhere. You're gonna face this."

"What the fuck is your problem?" you cringe. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Why do you have to do this? Why can't you give it a rest, please!"

"You want me to let you off the hook for everything you did to me?"

"I didn't do anything to you!"

And there it goes. The second you raise your broken voice. The second you fight back. The second you defend yourself.

The snap of your neck. The sting of a burning palm straight across your cheek. The very sensation you'd been dreading from the moment you escaped this monster.

You don't yelp. You don't cry. Instead, you go numb and immediately dissociate.

Your head rolls to the side, and every inkling of joy and love that you once harbored in your chest slinks completely from your being. Your expression falls and your eyes dull, for this inescapable fear has manifested back into reality.

And Toji is not here.

"Raise your fucking voice at me again, bitch!" your ex hisses, gathering your cheeks roughly in his hand and dragging your face forward to face him. His eyes are voids, empty holes that you find yourself getting pulled into against your desires. Those eyes drain your soul, devour it until there is no resolve. And even his screams hardly register now, for they sound as though submerged in water. "You're a fucking liar. Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? After everything? After leaving me to be the slut I always knew you were?"

Is this the present?

You are no longer sure. For a split moment, you see yourself back in your old apartment. The neighbors have made countless noise complaints against you for the distressing sound of glass breaking against the floor, furniture knocking against the walls, and dreadful screams from countless arguments lost drifting through the crack in your front door.

You're young, you think. How old were you? How long did you stay with him?

It's all a blur. The only thing you do recall is the overwhelming ache to be loved and your haste to jump into a future of love bombing and broken dreams.

It began with flowers, compliments, and kisses that never seemed to end. You were suffocating in affection, drowning in praises, and feigned promises of a happy life mere moments into your meeting.

You were so young. You clung to it because there was no one else.

And soon came the dismantling of your fragmented foundation, the throw away comments about the way you dressed, the disgusted glare you'd receive each time you interacted with a man in public, the shouting, the demand to see your phone, and the antagonization of your innocence - the accusations of unfaithfulness that you both knew weren't true. That were solely used as a reason to justify such abuse.

Then you became a liar in his twisted fabrication of events. A woman who throws herself at a man any chance she gets, salivating over the simplest forms of attention. You dressed for other men. You left the house for other men. You lived for other men.

And you could never, ever do better than him.

Flashes of hands around your throat, of frantically layering foundation over your skin as the very hands that gripped you came to encircle your waist with the thousandth meaningless apology. You would stare emptily into the mirror, concealing the man's violation as you forgave him. Every single time.

Until enough was enough. Until you truly believed that he would kill you if you stayed.

You fled in the dead of night to a different town without a word, and while you were finally free from the physical harm, he haunted your mind. You blocked him on everything, but he somehow always found a new means of contacting you. You don't own social media anymore because of him. You don't take trips because of him. You're grounded in the wake of the trauma he caused.

And then you met Toji, and life for quite some time finally became liveable.

But now you see that it was only a dream. Now you see that no matter where you go, no matter how long it takes, you will remain a slave to your ex's sadistic power.

And tonight very well may be your last.

You know you should fight, but your body remembers this moment. It's engraved in you, for the trauma lives in you. And it does not know to fight, but to shut you down instead.

Tears well into your eyes, but you can not feel them sting. Your mind flutters to something happier, something to hold onto as you disconnect with reality.

You see a swallowtail flap its golden-kissed wings, the echoing, innocent laughter of two Fushiguro children as they frolic about your heart, tugging at your hand and begging you to stay with them. You feel the generous summer breeze brush your skin, the ache of a cold drink nipping at your hands.

You feel the heaviness of a muscular arm surround you and pull you close to a bulking frame. You tilt your head against his shoulder subconsciously, breathing in the scent of musky pine. You close your eyes with the press of warm lips to your head and the murmur of something soft against your hair that you can't make out.

Ivy eyes capture you, hold you, love you, and speak all the words their owner can not begin to say.

Your eyes soften as taut fingers dig into your cheeks, jerking your head around like a doll as spit and angry curses upon you fly.

At least now you are certain that you got to experience what love is really like when it is not something nefarious in disguise.

A disgruntled yelp snaps you from your daze, accompanied by the forced release of your face with the thrust of an incoming force.

You stumble, body sinking to the ground as it slides against the brick wall. Your legs have given out beneath you, and you are so discombobulated that it takes a few minutes to understand what is happening.

When you look up, you find your ex missing from his previous position. Your eyes trail to the side where the sound of a blade sheathing resonates in your mind.

Suddenly, your eyes find light again when you see Toji before you, straddling your ex's body as he thrashes about beneath him. His large hand clasps around the man's neck, veins popping angrily, and his blade lifting high above his head. You know Toji always keeps weapons handy on him, whether it be his gun or his spear of heaven, but somehow you are still shocked when you see him.

Toji's eyes are dull as he looks down upon this sniveling excuse for a man. All traces of dominance have fled from his body, and what is left is merely pathetic. His eyes are terror-stricken, circling about as he looks up into death itself. Toji is twice the man's size, easily overpowering him with the smallest use of strength.

The Fushiguro's breathing is even, though his heart is wildly hammering into his chest. He had been wondering what was taking you so long in the bathroom until his hyper-sensitive hearing picked up on the sounds of your distress. He was quick to get off the phone with Gojo to locate you, only to come face-to-face with the abhorrent sight of a lowlife jerking you around, yelling in your ear, and the blooming red on your cheek in the shape of a hand.

Toji's ears rang with piercing rage, and he was on the fucker before he got the chance to cause you any further damage.

With steely eyes, Toji curls his lips in repulsion. "You like hitting women?" he poses the question lowly, his voice gravelly and hellish. He ducks in closer, eyes lethal. "You layin' hands on my girl?"

Your ex shakes his head frantically, hiccuping and choking over his own cries. "No! No, man! It's not what you think! I was just talking to her - it wasn't like that!"

A single thrust, the plunge of his blade into the side of his neck, just above where Toji grips his throat with his own fingers. You gasp, hands flying to your mouth as the man chokes out, the sound of a blade sheathing into flesh and blood gushing from the wound lifting loudly into the night air.

Your ex gurgles, hands scratching at Toji's arm, but he doesn't move. The assassin stares coldly, watching the blood spill onto the ground and pooling around his head. "I don't like liars," he grunts.

He rips the sword from his neck as blood spurts, your ex gagging with terror, only to thrust it back in again with eerie silence. A strangled cry breaks out from your ex's throat.

"How does it feel?" Toji murmurs. "Not so fun when y're on the other side of it."

The life is already leaving his eyes, but all Toji can picture in his head is your lifeless expression and that damned bruise on your face. This man hurt you. This man hurt you.

He doesn't deserve a quick death. He deserves to suffer.

He stabs again, then again, until he's plunging a knife repeatedly into a corpse. Your ex's fingers twitch until they still, blood surrounding his form as he lay still beneath Toji's weight.

And you watch in awe, the way his muscles contort beneath his shirt as he lifts his blade and thrusts it down, lifts and thrusts. You watch blood spatter carelessly, staining his hands and clothes. You know Toji is a killer, but you've never seen him in the act. You never knew how absolutely vicious he was.

You think maybe you should be scared, but all you can see is the man who swears every day that he would kill for you. That he would protect and avenge you at any chance he gets.

This is the man you love, real and raw before you, ending the source of your misery without an ounce of hesitation.

Toji's weapon clatters loudly to the ground after he ceases his attack, and he leans back momentarily on his haunches, glaring down at the waste of space beneath him.

He stands slowly, his breathing still calm, and spits on the body.

"Piece of shit."

But then he turns to you, and the deadliness instantly fades. You see the spots of blood dotting his face, the red dripping from his fingers, the huge stain on his clothes, but his expression is that of a man concerned and angry for his woman. No longer a killer, but a man in love. A man heartbroken at the sight of your current state.

He wipes his hands off on the sides of his pants and makes his way over to you. He drops to his knees before you, kneeling as he holds your chin and tilts your head to the side gently, a stark contrast to the contact that had previously been made with you.

He eyes the bruise on your face and his throat tightens. It's gonna be a nasty mark before it gets any better, as it is already inflaming brightly.

Toji grinds his teeth together. "Y'gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he grumbles to himself. He grazes the stinging skin slightly, and you flinch, bringing him to pour his attention back on you. "(Y/n), what happened?"

It all comes crashing onto you the moment his voice breaks through the water, his address of you so soft and sweet, nothing like how he sounded killing your abuser - nothing like the very voice of that cursed man.

You blink at him repeatedly, looking over at your ex's body. Toji studies you carefully and finds that you aren't completely there. You've reverted back to somewhere deep within the space of your brain, somewhere that would protect you in his absence.

His chest tightens with incredible guilt.

"C'mon, pretty darlin'," he frowns. He swipes his thumb over your tears then smoothes his hand over your head, cradling the back of it. His other hand holds your leg gently, tormented eyes looking into your foggy ones. "Come back to me. I'm here."

You open your mouth, staring spacily back at him. "Toji."

"Mhm," he answers you gruffly. "M'here. Talk to me. Are ya hurt anywhere else besides your cheek?"

You look down at yourself, then back up at him. "No."

"Alright," he nods, carressing your hair. "Who was that? Can ya tell me? Where'd he come from?"

"...He's dead," you observe. "You really killed him."

"He had his hands on you," he goes on to explain. "I heard you get upset, and then I came back here and he was-" he clenches his jaw. "Nobody should touch you like that. No one should ever fuckin' put their hands on ya like that. He hurt ya. I had to kill him. Had to fight for ya."

Your brows pinch together as you look over Toji's face with wide eyes. "I didn't think you'd come," you whisper. "He's dead."

"I was late, baby," he gulps, his heart torn to shreds by your words. "I know I was. I'm so damn sorry. I came as soon as I knew somethin' was wrong." He furrows his brows tightly. "I shoulda come with ya. I shoulda stood outside. I shouldn't've left you alone. 'N I'm sorry you had to see that shit, but I couldn't let him live. No one who fuckin' does this to you should live."

He shakes his head, oncing you over with his eyes to make sure you really weren't hurt elsewhere.

"Did he rob ya? Where's your phone?"

Your lips tremble. "Toji, that was my ex."

The assassin stills, looking up at you incredulously. "Yer' ex?"

You nod shakily.

Toji turns over his shoulder to look at him, then back at you. "The man you were with did this to ya?"

"Yeah, Toji," you confirm in a hushed voice, and suddenly a look of aggrieved realization comes over the former Zenin.

He understands now. Your fears, your walls, your hesitation.

He understands why you swore to never date again, and your words echo in his head.

It takes up too much trust, and energy, and time. I don't like the idea of committing your life like that to someone. Especially if they could hurt you.

God. He'd been a fucking blind idiot.

He doesn't say another word as your lips twist with anguish. He looks at you longer before pressing a lingering kiss to your head, holding you there, keeping you close.

He leans back and positions himself to pick you up once he's pulled away. You wind your arms around his neck as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, tucking you close as you rest your head against him. Toji is silent as he carries you away from the scene, save for when he asks for you to get your phone out and call Shiu for him, claiming that he has a situation that needs to be cleaned up.

When you arrive home, Satoru is jumping up asking what the hell happened when he sees a blood-stained Toji carry you through the door and the bruise on your cheek. The Fushiguro only asks if the kids are in bed, to which Satoru affirms, likely only having just forced them to bed when he found out that you guys were on your way home.

After Toji's told the white haired man to leave with no explanation, he brings you to his bedroom and sits you on the edge of the bed. He disappears to retrieve a bag of frozen peas and some water, then to clean himself up before climbing onto the bed himself with you. He rests his back against the frame and opens his arms to you. He does not ask you anything, nor does he pressure you. He simply lets you know that he is there if you want him, and you stare at him with the bag of frozen veggies pressed to your cheek before you crawl over to him.

Toji wraps his arms around you securely as you rest your unwounded cheek against his pectoral. You stare off into space, and he delicately takes the bag from your hand to hold it against your cheek for you. You listen to his heartbeat as you curl your legs up, his hand smoothing over your waist.

You feel yourself finally remolding with reality thanks to the contact of Toji's body against yours, and you wonder what he is thinking.

"We were together for three years."

Your soft voice comes as a shock to him, but he does not say anything to startle you. Instead, he just glances down, holding you so tight that he's afraid you'll disappear. "What did he do to you, (Y/n)?" he eventually asks.

"...Exactly what you saw. Worse sometimes."

You feel Toji tense as you finally allow him into this vulnerable side of your life, the side that had been stunting you for so long. "You lived like that for three years?"

"I didn't know anything else," you say, a tear breaking silently past your cheek and down your nose. "I was scared to leave."

"But you did."

He's right. You did. Even if it took you years. Even when you were terrified. You still wanted to live.

"We got into such a bad fight the night I left," you muttered. Toji clings to your every word, listening, aching. "He pinned me up against the wall... by my throat," your throat tightens as the images flash through your mind. "I thought I was gonna die. And I didn't want to live like that anymore. I'd had enough."

"(Y/n)," Toji says your name, wounded, and you close your eyes. "Why didn't you tell me."

"...Because I knew you'd kill him," you answer honestly. "And even though I wanted him gone more than anything... I was afraid of what life would be like without living in fear of him. I didn't know anything else. Not until I met you."

You open your eyes, the image of your ex's dead body reliving itself.

"I can't believe he's dead."

"And I'd do it over and over again," he affirms. "If it meant you bein' safe. If it meant never seein' what I saw tonight every again."

He ducks his chin to your head and sighs heavily.

"Couldn't stand the sight, doll. No one should ever hurt you."

"I know. I don't know why I let him."

"You were scared," he firmly defends you. "Don't go blamin' yourself for fearin' something anybody would. You ain't do this to yourself. It was him."

"Toji, I've never been loved by anyone the way you love me," you confess and Toji softens, as he always does when it comes to you. "I don't know what to do with that sometimes, cause you love me just as much as I love you and that's never happened to me before. I don't know how to move forward. I don't know how to not be scared."

"No one's rushin' ya to do something you ain't ready for," he tells you. "And I shouldn't have pushed you to go on a date with me. Shoulda known better. If you weren't ready, you weren't ready."

"But I did want to go on a date with you," you tell him. You lift your head and Toji lowers the ice as you look up at him, your hand pressed against his abdomen. Your eyes are heavy with so much emotion, so much confliction, so much love and grief. "I had the best time with you tonight, before everything."

Silence settles between you for a moment before he speaks. "That makes me glad," he traces softly over your spine. "Y're never gonna know how much I love ya, girl. Even if you think you do, you don't. Not at all."

You hardly even feel as though this is a confession, for Toji's love for you as a friend and as a lover is all the same, and you've known it for as long as you've known him. His gruff honesty, the yearning in his eyes. It's all so Toji. All for you.

"And I'll be damned if anyone tries to put their hands on you again. I'll be a man in hell before I let that happen."

He sees that your gorgeous eyes have regained their life and light, and he is slightly relieved. "You got me. Understand? I'm here for ya as long as you want me. I'll take care of ya. You won't know any of that shit ever again. It's over. He's gone 'n I'm here now."

And when you look into Toji's eyes, the reality that there is no one alive to haunt you anymore sinks in. You no longer have to hide, no longer have to look over your shoulder in terror, no longer have to stunt the person you are for the sake of your security.

You no longer have to run. You can live the life you've always wanted with the family you have come to find in Toji and his kids, and though the journey toward healing from the past will be a long one, you will not be alone.

There's a light at the end of the tunnel that you've finally reached, and you can flap your wings as you leave captivity behind and ride the sun's rays.

You release a breath you did not know you were holding and duck your face back into Toji's chest. Your shoulders jerk, and he is quick to surrender the peas, putting them aside for now to envelope you fully. He worries he may have said something wrong, may have triggered you, but a teary croak into his now damp shirt proves otherwise.

"Thank you," you whimper, and he's done.

How can you thank him for something as easy as loving you?

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softjeekies · 1 day ago

Text

Waiting After The Rain - 13

Pairing: ot8!stray kids x pregnant omega!reader

Synopsis: An omega pregnant and alone after being kicked out by their alpha stumbles upon a pack willing to take them in and care for both the omega and their pup as if they were their own, because now they are.

Genre: strangers to lovers, angsty but lots of fluff to even it out.

Warnings: a/b/o, violence, past abuse physical and verbal, past sexual abuse(mentions of past non-con), mentions of past violence, trauma, self esteem issues, pregnancy, aftermath of abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, pack dynamics, angst but it will be okay, polyamory, cursing, not beta read

A/N: sorry about another longer wait, i hope this chapter was worth the wait. thank you guys for all the support, it warms my heart <3

previous chapter // next chapter(coming soon)

The entire pack could sense how fast your heart raced all morning.

“I’m just not hungry.” Your head feels heavy as you lay it on the table next to the bowl Minho was trying to get you to eat.

“Me and you both know that’s a lie, you’re just nervous, which is completely valid but that doesn’t mean you get to not eat today. What if I feed you?” You try hard to hold back a smile from forming, but it’s too silly. A strong alpha feeding you like a little baby, it’s sort of cute.

“Ah I see that smile, now sit up and open wide.” You give in, Minho brings the food to your lips with a smile plastered across his face at the accomplishment. As usual, the food is delicious, and you can’t deny yourself finishing the bowl.

“See, that wasn’t hard.”

“I’m just scared.”

“I know, but I promise you everything will be okay. Don’t worry so much, you’ll make yourself sick.”

Finding out the gender is a big deal and can be a fun milestone but your mind is more focused on what could go wrong. The doctor would also be checking your progress on getting a healthier weight and getting the baby to a more appropriate size, and the latter scares you the most because if your pup hadn’t made enough progress you probably wouldn’t find out the gender at all today, and you know how excited the pack is. They did their best to ease your nerves today, spending as much time with you as possible, helping you get ready for the day, and each pack member left you with a gentle good luck kiss on your forehead before heading off to work.

Your nerves still got the best of you, causing you to stand patiently at the door shoes and coat already on just waiting for Chan to say it was time to go. Speaking up for yourself and your needs is probably one of the biggest hurdles you face with the pack, they’ve tried really hard to get you to let them know when something’s up or you need something but it’s hard, after so many years of being forced into silence and submission even asking to leave for your own doctor’s appointment is a lot. Seeing Chan come running down the stairs knocks you out of your thoughts.

“Babe, you didn’t have to wait by the door, you could have come and gotten me!” He’s not angry, it’s almost adorable how patient you are, it would be if he didn’t know this was due to your anxiety and trauma.

“It’s okay, I haven’t been waiting long. I know you wouldn’t make us late.” You keep your head down playing with your fingers when Chan takes one of your hands in his.

“I would never! Now let’s go see our pup.”

The wait for the doctor once you get into the room is the worst, such a huge moment so close yet so far away. Chan does his best to ease your nerves, never letting go of your hand.

“Felix was telling me about how you guys were looking at baby stuff yesterday, did you find anything you liked?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, I think I want to see stuff in person, really feel things, does that make sense?” Chan’s face lights up as an idea pops into his head.

“How about, as a reward for you being so strong today after this we’ll go pick up Han and Felix and go shopping, I’ll get you whatever you want!” The way Chan’s eyes scream ‘please let me do this for you my alpha needs it’ gives way to the fact that he wants this, maybe even more than you. So for once you don’t protest, just a simple hum before the doctor comes in interrupting whatever the alpha wanted to say next.

“Well hello there you two, Y/N you already look so much better than the last time I saw you, good job!”

You smile at the acknowledgment of your effort, you want to say it wasn’t you, Minho completely handles your meals and Seungmin can’t be near you for more than five seconds without offering you a snack or even a taste of whatever he’s eating, but that gets caught in your throat.

“Let’s see baby.” The doctor speaks, turning off the lights and getting ready for the ultrasound. While still holding onto Chan’s hand you raise Jeongin’s sweatshirt above your belly and take a deep breath.

“Same as last time, it’s going to be a little cold, just let me know if you need to stop for any reason at any time.” You give a smile but your eyes are trained on the monitor, far more interested in seeing your pup than anything else.

And suddenly nothing else matters, seeing that little baby blob will never get old. You can’t even imagine how much of a mess you’ll be when you actually get to see the baby outside of your womb. Your mind wanders for a moment to thoughts of the birth and what’s to come after it. Would the pack want to be there? Will they want to hold the pup? Would you let them? A tear slips down your cheek as the doctor examines what she’s seeing.

“Everything looks amazing, you did everything right! Now how do we feel about knowing the gender?”

“Can you maybe put it in an envelope, so me my pack and can look at it later… together.” You look over at Chan to gauge his reaction, catching a shocked expression taking over his face in the middle of wiping his tears. You can’t help but giggle, he’s too cute. The doctor hums and cleans up the gel, allowing you to pull the sweater back down.

“Of course, I’ll get that printed out for you! There is something I’d like to discuss before you leave though.” Your heart rate picks up and Chan squeezes your hand, you give the doctor a nod.

“Well as your pregnancy progresses, you may experience some more symptoms. I know you have a difficult past so I’m not sure how you feel about it but I’d like to say that given the significant progress you’ve made and how good the baby is looking, I’d like to clear you on having sex, if that’s something you want to do anytime soon.” Your face immediately turns bright red, in contrast to the nasty pit forming in your stomach. The doctor takes note of your change in your demeanor.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I have this talk with all my pregnant patients. Your hormones are changing and spiking, and you may feel urges due to this and I don’t want you to be scared. That is completely normal and safe.” You give the doctor a shy nod and she smiles back at you before exiting the room As soon as the doctor leaves you let out a nervous laugh.

“Sorry if that was awkward, I didn’t think she’d bring that up.” With no verbal response, Chan pulls you into a hug.

“Thank you for including us all in this moment, and just, thank you for making me a dad.” He doesn’t bring up the doctor’s words, far more focused on the excitement of the gender reveal and being a dad, and you really appreciate that. Chan helps you off the bed so you can grab the envelope and head home to get Felix and Han.

Once the omegas get in the car they immediately bombard you with questions about the pup, well more specifically the gender.

“I decided, we will all find out together later tonight.” You speak hesitantly, still a little shaken up from the appointment.

“Aw, but I thought we were your special boys, can’t we just get a little sneak peek?” Han whines causing you to let out a laugh.

“Come on Hannie, won’t it be so cute for all of us to find out together?” The alpha raises his eyebrow at Jisung through the review mirror and the omega immediately slumps in his seat.

“Yeah, I guess that’s kind of cute or whatever.” He’s playing it cool but inside his heart feels like mush, the idea that he and his pack are going to be dads is starting to feel real for him, and he couldn’t be happier.

When Chan entered the baby store he was immediately hit by a wave of serious cuteness aggression, this was definitely going to be a day.

Felix really took the lead here, coming prepared with a list of what you’d need to get, but reassured you that you didn’t have to follow it at all, he just wanted to give you a rough idea of what to look at today. They all took notice of how hesitant you were, feather light touches on a crib causing Chan to take it upon himself to wrap his arms around your waist, comfortably swaying side to side.

“Do you like this one?”

“I’m not sure. This one is really pretty and Felix said it has good reviews online but it’s a little pricey.”

“Oh baby, that’s no problem! I told you, you get whatever you want.” Chan spins you around still holding you in his arms.

“You do not need to spend this kind of money on my baby.” Your pout makes his inner alpha purr, how could you be this cute?

“Our baby. And I don’t work all these hours to have nothing to show for it. I have the money, don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing. I will always take care of my omegas.” It seems all your blood rushes to your cheeks again at, well everything he just said. Your omega purrs in contentment, begging you to give in to the alpha.

“Let’s look at other stuff, we can grab the crib last.” You huff and walk towards the omegas, Chan hot on your tail refusing to let you go too far from him. You find the omegas sitting in rocking chairs, testing them, as they would protest when you asked what the hell they were doing.

“You should test them out too!” The brunette omega pipes up, getting up and gesturing for you to try out his pick. It’s a plush rocking chair, you can’t remember seeing a chair so soft and welcoming in your life. Your body quite literally sinks into the seat, like it was made for you. The pack members think the same, each one of them sensing that their mates are feeling the exact same way watching the display in front of them. The perfect image of you holding the cutest little pup floats around in their heads, their hearts warm, minds beginning to fuzz, they are melting for you. The three hear their inner wolves growl in unison speaking the same words.

Mine. Must mate. Our Mate.

This wasn’t the first time their wolves demanded this of them, the second your smell hit their noses they knew. You have always been theirs, now they just have a lot of time to make up for what was lost.

“You need to get that.” The alpha’s voice cracked, causing giggles to come from Han and Felix.

“Hmm, it is pretty comfy.” You hum.

“So it’s yours.” The alpha purrs trying to play it cool after his moment of weakness. You smile at him, which only causes his heart to yearn more. Felix gets up from his chair the second he realizes you’re getting up as well, something he’s started doing recently as you began to show more. Without even realizing you groan, your body yearns to sit back down. The blonde omega places a hand on the small of your back rubbing soft circles.

“Are you tired? Do you want to head home? We can grab what we picked out and call it a day!“ It’s Chan who comes closer to you two and begins to fret.

“If you guys want to keep shopping we can, it’s no big deal.” You’re only turned away from Felix for a split second before he gently takes your chin to get you to look at him.

“No. We are only here for you, now you are tired and that’s okay sweetheart. How about you stay here with Hannie and me and Chan hyung will grab the furniture you picked out, pay, and we’ll grab you when we’re done!” Any protest you could have given falls in your throat thanks to Felix’s calming demeanor, his smile screams at you that everything is okay.

Back at home, as the rest of the pack trickles in throughout the evening, you all agree to wait until after dinner to find out the gender of your pup. Minho is joking about not spoiling dinner with dessert. It ends up being hard for all of you to get through dinner, Han bouncing in his seat begging everyone to hurry up, Chan’s scent is all over the place, Hyunjin is so excited he’s barely interested in the plate in front of him, Jeongin is extremely quiet, even for him. You’re all on the edge of something so huge, the food cannot vanish fast enough. Yet as soon as the last fork hits the plate you all stare at each other, suddenly extremely nervous, realizing just how real this is hitting you all at once.

Felix takes the lead once again, leading you all to the kitchen island so you can stand around it, around this magical piece of paper.

“We will all close our eyes, including me. I will unfold this and place it in the center. On the count of three, we open our eyes and see what our pup is, got it?” A mix of nervous and eager agreements fills the room, and you shut your eyes waiting for the omega’s countdown.

“Three… Two… One!” You all open your eyes together leaning close to try and make sense of the letters on the page. Jeongin is the first one to speak, or more so scream.

“It’s a girl! We’re having our girl!” The young omega yelps yet everything sounds so quiet as he pulls you into a hug. Slowly you feel each of them hug you as well, you’d never experienced a group hug before, it feels safe, it feels like home. Like a happy scene in one of the movies, everything moves in slow motion, the cheers of your packmates sound muffled but you can tell they are all happy, and you’re happy too. A little girl, a little girl you can love and protect in ways you never could. It feels like a second chance, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Your baby girl was already so loved. Jeongin takes your face in his hands gently and it grounds you, the volume rises and everything moves at the correct pace again, you take in the reactions of the pack for a moment, each one of them in tears, which makes you realize you’re crying too.

“I love you so much Y/N. Thank you for staying, thank you for trusting us, thank you for giving us our daughter.” It’s not just your pup, you are loved here.

“I love you too. All of you.” And for once, you know what it feels like to have that feeling reciprocated.

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girlgenius1111 · 10 hours ago

Text

not yourself

barcelona x teen reader your first international break does not go how you want it to. you're not yourself when you return, and your teammates make it their business to figure out what happened, and why you're so quiet and withdrawn.

—

You’d never been very good at making friends. You were quiet, and people often took that to mean you were aloof. The only reason you’d made friends at Barça was because you’d been so young when you started there. Young enough that almost everyone made an effort to try to get to know you. And while it took time, they must have decided you were worth knowing.

Your club teammates would tell anyone who asked that you were the team’s baby. Sweet and kind. Even loud and outgoing around people you were comfortable with. Incredible on the pitch. Your teammates loved you like a younger sister, and had gained your trust. You absolutely couldn’t be described as shy around them anymore.

So, your club teammates knew you well enough to know that if you were being quiet, it wasn’t because you thought you were better than everyone around you or because you weren’t interested in being social. You just had such anxiety when it came to social situations, especially new ones.

No situation terrified you more than your first international call up. The weeks leading up to it, everyone kept telling you it would be okay. Whenever you fell quiet and looked like you were thinking too hard, there was always someone there to rest a hand on your shoulder or pull you into a hug and promise that everything would be okay.

You just had to be yourself, Alexia said, and everyone would like you.

Kika promised you had nothing to worry about, Cata said she was just a phone call away if she had to fight someone for you. None of them seemed very worried, somehow assured and convinced that you’d have no trouble making friends.

For the first time in your career, you left when they did for the international break. You were your usual self, bubbly and smiley and excited enough that you could barely sit still. Or maybe that was just the nerves.

You were yourself when you left, and none of them stopped to consider that you might not be when you got back.

—

Loneliness. It wasn’t a brand new feeling, but it wasn’t one you’d felt in a long time.

Not since you were a kid, and watched the other kids play together at recess. Easily talking and laughing and having fun. Not since you were a kid and watched your parents joke and laugh with your much older siblings, only pausing to remind you to finish your homework. You’d been the outsider, then. At school and at home.

The weird girl that tried to play football with the boys at recess, and was promptly shunned by everyone. The baby of the family that no one seemed to have any time for. Your parents had you, and soon after decided they were tired of being real parents. They were tired of spending their time with kids, only they’d realized that too late. You’d spent years eating dinner alone at the kitchen table, wondering if your parents would remember to come check on you when they got home from whatever event they’d gone to.

So, loneliness was familiar. Perhaps you’d just forgotten how much it ached.

Yet you were reminded, that first international break. Where once again you were the outsider, the odd one out. You weren’t very sure why. It started with the girl you were assigned to room with acting like you were the strangest, most unpleasant person she’d ever spoken to. Soon, it was everyone else doing the same.

It was cruel little laughs when you messed up in training, and rolled eyes when you went down with an ankle injury during the match. It was assuredly not whispered overheard conversations.

“She’s so arrogant, I don’t know how anyone puts up with her.”

“They probably have to be nice to her at Barça, but it’s all pity, really. No one would actually want to spend time with her.”

“I wonder if it’s in her contract, that everyone has to pretend to like her.”

It was trying to keep your sobs silent at night as you buried your face in your pillow. It was ignoring every text you got from your club teammates asking how it was going because you were terrified that they didn’t really like you. It didn’t take much for you to be convinced you were some annoying burden on your teammates. The foundation had been laid throughout your life, and it took just a few perfectly worded comments from some of the meanest girls you’d ever encountered to shatter what little self confidence you’d managed to develop.

It was the worst two weeks of your life. And now, somehow, you were supposed to go back to Barcelona and act normal, like you didn’t have a million doubts in your head, much more amplified than they ever had been before.

Now, it wasn’t a small worry in the back of your mind that you were bothering Jana when you asked her to braid your hair before a match, or when Alexia drove you home from training that one evening. It had grown to a shout, drowning out any logical, reasonable competition.

You were sure. Convinced. You were nothing but a burden. An annoying, arrogant, horrible person who no one actually wanted to be around, let alone your club teammates who had the world at their feet.

Your lack of response to your teammates' texts was the first of many red flags. Many of them had texted you. First, your closest friends. Vicky, Sydney, Jana, Salma. But when word inevitably got around the Spain camp that you weren’t replying to your friends, more texts arrived. From Irene and Alexia, Patri, Cata, and Claudia. Almost everyone asked you some variation of how is it going, or alternatively, are you doing okay?

Yet you were too in your head to believe they really wanted to know. This was only reinforced when the texts stopped. Though you didn’t know it, Alexia and Irene had decided you needed space for whatever reason, and told everyone to leave you alone. They didn’t want to suffocate you trying to figure out what was going on, though it was clearly something.

So, the texts stopped, and any remaining shred of hope you carried that your national teammates were wrong, that your club teammates did care about you, disappeared too.

—

You were pretty sure you’d never been more anxious than you were the morning you were supposed to return to Barça’s training. Every negative comment, every condescending look, every second you'd spent feeling alone and awful, had built up inside your head.

Every single thing you did prompted a flood of self deprecating thoughts. It didn't feel like you could do anything right. All you wanted was to shrink yourself down, become as small and unnoticeable as possible. If you could get through the day without anyone really looking at you, maybe you could do this.

Of course, your teammates, already worried about you after your unexplained silence, weren't going to let you be invisible.

It started with an arm slung around your shoulders the second you stepped into the locker room. Ona, a bright smile on her face.

"La pequeña is back!" She sang, pinching your cheek.

Her words didn't make you feel loved and cared for. Instead, you heart clenched, thinking she was being patronizing.

You had officially fallen off the deep end, and if you'd been in any less of a state of anxiety and self consciousness, you would have realized how wrong and unfair you were being.

You knew Ona. Ona was a good person. Ona would never hurt a fly, let alone be cruel to one of her teammates. These were all facts. Somehow, though, your sense of self had been so warped, so twisted, that you believed Ona could be a good person who wouldn't hurt a fly, yet she could also still be teasing you.

There was something to be said about how two weeks with a bunch of mean girls had completely destroyed your self confidence. Perhaps it hadn't been very strong to begin with, perhaps this deep hatred you felt towards yourself had always been inside you, just buried deep. Now, though, it had free reign. Logic could no longer control it, and it was left to run rampant through your body and mind.

You were bad. Arrogant, awful, impossible to like or care for. These feelings were the foundation of every thought you had. You were a burdensome disaster, and your teammates didn't need to be bothered with you. It wasn't worth it; you weren't worth their time.

You didn't think you were worth much at all, really.

So, you shrugged out from under Ona's arm, fixing your eyes on your cubby and hurrying over to it. No eye contact, no conversation with anyone else.

Ona was left behind you, confused. Brow furrowed, she looked at you, and then looked around the locker room. It seemed she hadn't been the only one to notice your odd behavior. Jana made eye contact with her, nodding her head slightly.

You were hyper aware of everyone around you, able to see Jana leaning closer from her spot in the cubby next to you out of the corner of your eye.

"Hey." She said quietly.

You managed some mumbled greeting in response, hands trembling where you tried to unfold your training top.

"Are you okay?" Jana inquired.

Immediately, you nodded your head. And immediately, Jana regretted her question. Of course you were going to say yes, even if it was obvious you weren't okay. She should have asked what was wrong, instead.

Someone cleared their throat behind Jana, and you let out a sigh of relief when she stepped away from you.

More concern being shown to you, yet you perceived it so differently. Jana was taking pity on you, probably. You needed to pull it together, take some deep breaths and put on a show, because you had no choice but to be fine today. No choice.

As you composed yourself, Jana and Irene exchanged quiet words.

"Something isn't right." Jana whispered, glancing back at you. Now, you were methodically trying your shoes, even a mere hint of emotion wiped from your face.

Irene was watching you, too, more concerned than she wanted to admit. Your silence while you'd been away had been odd; your behavior now, though, was downright worrying.

Yet taking one look at you told Irene that you were completely shut down. An impenetrable wall had put up, and Irene knew better than to force her way through. This wasn't the time or the place to get you to talk.

"Just leave her be for today. Whatever it is, she'll come to us when she's ready."

And maybe you would have, if it had been anything else. But when you were convinced you were a burden, the last thing you wanted to do was ask the people you felt like you were inconveniencing to reassure you that you weren't an inconvenience.

Those of your teammates that had an understanding of when to push and when not to push seemed to leave you alone. There were little things, pats on the shoulder and water bottles handed to you first before anyone else, that were supposed to send you the message that you were cared for. Yet all you could think was that your teammates saw you as an obligation.

However, some of your other teammates greatly lacked the ability to read the situation. When they saw someone being quiet and acting strangely, it wasn't in their nature to let it go. They pushed.

Teasing comments about being quiet or being too cool for the team followed you around all day. The weren't intentionally cruel, yet you couldn't seem to separate friendly teasing from what you'd endured with your national team.

Everything came to a head in the locker room after training. It was loud, everyone chattering excitedly about their breaks and getting to see their families. So loud that no one really noticed Cata and Vicky appearing on either side of you, pestering you to tell them why you were suddenly way too cool to talk to them.

“Out with it, chica!” Cata said teasingly. Maybe she was trying to lighten the mood, but you felt like she was laughing at you. “You’ve been acting like an alien all day.”

“Were you abducted? Are you really an alien shape shifter?” Vicky laughed.

The teasing felt cruel, though you should have known it wasn’t. The echoes of the girls from your national team still rattled around in your head, until you couldn’t tell the difference between their bullying and your teammates’ teasing.

You shut your locker tightly, blinking hard for a second before turning around.

“Please just leave me alone.” You said softly, voice cracking in the middle.

Cata and Vicky froze, surprise flashing across their faces.

“Chica, we were just–”

“I know, I know, I’ve been weird. Just make your jokes when I’m gone next time.”

It was the closest you’d probably ever get to standing up for yourself, so maybe you were a bit proud as you headed out of the locker room. Mostly, though, you just felt pathetic. For ever thinking your teammates had cared about you when they had no reason to. For ever thinking you were fun to be around or fun to talk to.

You’d been trying to be quiet and fade into the background. Not draw attention to yourself. It only confirmed in your head that your teammates saw you as a pitiful charity project they didn’t actually want to be around when they seemed to zero in on this change in your behavior.

You couldn’t picture it coming from a place of worry or care. The girls your age hated you, and there was no reason why much more successful women wouldn’t feel the same way.

Hastily, you made your way out of the locker room, ignoring every sideways glance from your teammates. You even ignored Alexia calling your name, not thinking yourself capable of holding it together for much longer. You needed to get home, where you could be pathetic by yourself and not bother anyone with it.

Yet behind you, every single one of your teammates, every single one of your friends, were left bewildered. Something wasn't right. And they were not the type of people to let something like this go.

—

It was Sydney that got to you. She’d clearly had a bad training session, a bad day. It surprised you when your phone lit up with a text from her, asking if she could come over. You said yes immediately, willing to help even while you were convinced you were the perpetual butt of some joke.

Sydney been near tears when she knocked on your front door, and you didn't hesitate to pull her over to your sofa, wrap a soft cream blanket around her shoulders, and move the box of tissues on the coffee table ever so slightly closer to her.

"What's going on?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even and calm.

Sydney sniffled, burying her face in her hands.

"Everything," she said, voice muffled. "I just… I don't think I'm good enough to be here. Everyday at training, all I can do is doubt myself and rethink my decisions and then I play horribly. It's unbearable. I want to go home, I miss my parents and my sister and cold weather and—"

"Woah, slow down." You urged. "Take a breathe, you're spiraling."

Sydney inhaled shakily, and you reached out, resting a supportive hand on her forearm.

"It's just… really hard, being so far away from home and playing for the best team in the world. I should feel happy and lucky, and I do, but I'm so scared all the time that I'm not good enough."

You knew exactly how she was feeling. It was probably a rough time that every young player at Barcelona felt, a point everyone reached. You weren't even sure that you didn't still feel that way.

In that moment, you were glad you'd felt this way before, if for no other reason than being able to help Sydney more.

"Syd, you wouldn't be here if you weren't good enough. Having a crisis of confidence like this just shows you care, and you have the passion you need to play for this team."

Sydney looked up at you and sniffled, cautiously hopeful. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. What you're feeling is so normal, Syd, I promise. It's an adjustment and you just have to be patient with yourself. It's going to get better, I promise."

This time, Sydney nodded, wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, you're probably right."

You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, wracking your brain for what else to say, what would have made you feel better when you'd felt like this. Sydney looked comforted, sure, but you knew that your advice was probably not very good, and she deserved more than you were able to give her.

“Do you want me to call one of the older girls, Syd? They can probably help better than me.” You suggested, biting down on your lower lip in worry.

Sydney shook her head. “No, you’re helping. You always give good advice, and you always know what to say to calm me down. That’s why I’m here. I think I just needed to cry.”

Her words shocked you, and it was obvious that she could tell.

"I actually didn't just come over here to cry on your couch." Sydney said, no longer looking quite as sad, concern flooding her features. "I wanted to check on you. Something seemed really off today."

You shifted uncomfortably, whole body suddenly tense. "No, I'm—"

"Do not tell me that you are fine. You seem… you seem really not okay. Everyone's noticed, and Irene has insisted we give you space, that you'll talk to someone about whatever is wrong when you're ready, but that doesn't feel right to me. You shouldn't let someone who is clearly hurting isolate themselves."

Sydney spoke with the wisdom of a much older woman. Her hazel eyes, too, seemed to study you in a way that pierced your soul. So much so that you suddenly didn't know how you were going to push this away, how you were going to convince her you were okay.

There was something else, too. The thing about Irene and space and you reaching out when you were ready. It tugged at your chest, maybe some very tiny remaining part of you that remembered how much you trusted your teammates.

Two weeks that felt like an eternity were enough to do a lot of damage on your psyche, that much was obvious. Those weeks, paired with your long standing tendency to fall into a pit of self hatred, were enough to have you questioning everything, your friendships most of all. You'd shrunk yourself down, trying to take up as little space as possible, as you always had when you were younger. When it was clear you were annoying your parents or your siblings, you shut down.

You were shutting down now, but there was some part of you, maybe some healed part of you, that couldn't stop thinking of tight hugs and reassuring words and movie nights and homemade dinners and rides home from training. None of that matched up with the way you were feeling, until all you were sure of in that moment, was that you were confused.

You were so confused. Sydney reaching out and checking on you didn't make sense. Irene telling everyone to give you space, and that you'd talk to someone when you were ready didn't make sense. Sydney saying you were clearly hurting didn't make sense; you weren't hurting, not really. You were just being realistic. Weren't you?

Sydney seemed genuine, though. And that was the thing that really tripped you up. She would have had to go very much out of her way to come over here and check on you, even if she apparently came also because she trusted you to make her feel better about her own terrible day.

Nothing made sense anymore. It hadn't since you'd left for the break two weeks ago, and realized you were existing in a bubble where everyone tolerated your presence because they had to.

"Did something happen over the break?" She probed, carefully watching the shift of your facial expression. Immediately, she knew she'd gotten it right. Your face had fallen for just a moment, before the wall was drawn back up. But she'd seen the devastation in your eyes at the reminder. "Okay, so yes. Tell me what happened."

Sydney could come off as a very quiet, soft spoken person. but when it came to the people she cared about, which you could no longer deny included you, she was a force to be reckoned with, and you found yourself opening your mouth to answer without even trying to fight it very hard.

"It's fine. Some of the girls were… they didn't like me. But it's okay, really. I'm okay."

Sydney raised one eyebrow, like she didn't believe you for a second. "Didn't like you? Why not?"

Her face was so genuinely confused, her tone baffled. She didn't seem to understand the idea of someone not liking you. And, you suppose, that's what made you break. Tears welled in your eyes even as you shook your head, trying to ward the emotions off.

"Because I'm annoying and arrogant and aloof and untalented and undeserving of my spot here." The words tumbled out of you, like you'd been bursting at the seams trying not to let them go until that moment.

"Is that what they said?" Sydney asked, eyes wide and angry.

You nodded, jaw locked so tightly it looked painful.

"Is that what you believe?"

This time, you shrugged. Yet, somehow, it was obvious what that shrug meant.

"That's absurd. Obviously they're just jealous of you because you're so much more successful than them."

The issue with that explanation was that you couldn't hear it without picturing a mother telling her spoiled teenage daughter with an awful personality the exact same thing. She didn't have friends because people were jealous of her, not because she was terrible. You couldn't envision yourself as anything other than the terrible one in the situation.

You shrugged again, trying to act like you didn't care, like none of it even mattered anyway. "Yeah, whatever. It's not a big deal."

Sydney looked at you for a long moment, considering. Her eyes were warm, her aura exuding gentleness. Still, you braced yourself for something hurtful.

"It seems like a big deal. It would feel like a big deal for me."

You bit your lip for a moment before shaking your head. "It's not."

It was a lie, and you both knew it. There was no part of you that was willing to let this conversation go any further, though. You couldn't talk about this, or you'd break, and that wouldn't be fair to put on Sydney. So, you changed the subject.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. Do you want to watch a movie? To get your mind off things?" You asked, trying to appear relaxed as you leaned back into the sofa and uncrossed your arms.

Sydney knew she had two options; she could push, insist you talk to her, or she could let you shut the conversation down and watch a movie with you. She was fairly certain that the first option would end with you shutting down even further, and her leaving your apartment. And the second… well, you'd still be shut down, but at least you wouldn't be alone. So, for now, Sydney let you table the conversation, well aware that she had a few people to call on her way home.

"A movie sounds good." She agreed.

Yet even after you'd both agreed on a film, even as the room feel silent as the opening chords of the score flooded out of the speakers, you could feel the concern radiating off Sydney in waves. And you worried she wouldn't let this go.

—

The thing about having no self confidence was that sometimes, you could be really fucking delusional. Over the course of the evening and night, and into the following day, you'd somehow managed to convince yourself that nothing else would come of the conversation you'd had with Sydney the night before. Because, really, why would anyone care to follow up? It was one thing to be nice to you at training, but your personal issues were no one's responsibility but your own.

Maybe it was your brain trying to take the safe option. Maybe it was some part of you reaching out for help in a very backwards way, knowing that if you convinced yourself there would be no conversation the next day, no worried glances from your teammates, you'd be much more likely to be taken off guard, and much more likely to talk. Whatever it was, you walked into the locker room the next morning, 75% sure that nothing would come of the conversation you'd had with Sydney the day before.

And right back out the locker room you walked, head down, eyes fixed on the floor, following Alexia and Patri. Briefly, you wondered how Patri was chosen for this conversation. Likely, it had been her that Sydney had gone to talk to, finding the youngest captain to be the easiest to approach. If you knew Irene and Marta, though, you knew they'd be itching to talk to you, too.

You followed Alexia and Patri to the room the team used for watching match footage, slumping into a chair as they both pulled ones over to sit in front of you. It felt oddly like some kind of job interview, both of their gazes fixed intently on you. They looked upset, almost, and you honestly weren't sure how this conversation would go.

Maybe it wasn't about the break and what had happened. Maybe you'd actually done something wrong, and gotten yourself into trouble.

Before you could spiral any further, Patri cleared her throat and spoke.

"You haven't been yourself." She said simply, eyes trained on your face, ready to catch even a flicker in your expression.

You opened your mouth, though you weren't quite sure what you were about to say. Alexia spoke before you could, though, shaking her head insistently as if you'd spoken.

"No. Do not deny it. You left for the break normal, smiley and laughing and happy. And you came back sad and quiet and shy. You haven't been this quiet and this withdrawn since you first came here, so something clearly happened while you were gone. And I want to know what happened."

Alexia could come on rather strong when it came to the well being of the people she cared about. This was something Patri knew very well, having been on the receiving end of it enough times. Yet she didn't want Alexia to seem too harsh, and make you think that you were in trouble when they were really just worried about you.

"Why do you want to know? It's not your responsibility, I was away with my national team, it has nothing to do with Barcelona."

Alexia and Patri exchanged a glance, confusion written across both their faces.

"What? It's not about responsibility, chica, it's about you. We want to know because we care about you."

Shockingly, as you'd approached this conversation with such hostility, your lip began to tremble. You bit down on it, hard, looking anywhere but at your captains.

"You do?"

Alexia and Patri were both stunned into silence for a moment. They didn't understand what they could have possibly done to make you doubt that they cared about you. The entire team had spent a long time earning your trust, and now it seemed like that trust had evaporated.

You'd been so young when you arrived at Barcelona, you still were so young. And neither Patri nor Alexia could see anything other than a young girl who needed love and support when they looked at you.

Alexia reached out, putting one hand on your shoulder. She waited until you lifted your gaze to meet hers, eyes filled with tears. She hadn't seen you look this small and this vulnerable in a very long time.

"Of course we do. Of course. We want to know what happened because we want to help."

At this, you shook your head, wiping your tears with the hem of your training top.

"No, this isn't your problem, it's mine. You don't have to fix it for me."

"Well, maybe we want to." Patri said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Just tell us, chica. Please." Alexia asked, her tone of the verge of begging. They were both looking at you so intently, so pleadingly and so caringly, that you weren't really sure what else to do. Your options seemed like… telling them what happened, or running from the room and never looking back.

"It was just… some of the girls at camp. They didn't like me. They said some stuff I guess I let get in my head."

It was the vaguest, barest bones summary you could have come up with, and you could tell both the older women wanted to ask for more details, insist on names and exactly what was said so they could make it right.

But there you sat in front of them, arms crossed tightly over your chest, looking like you were physically trying to hold yourself together. And they knew they shouldn't push you.

Of course, you were worried that if you told them exactly what was said, they'd agree, however unlikely that was. But more than that, the things that had been said to you and about you weren't things you ever really wanted to repeat again. Even listing them off to Sydney the night before had been painful, like you were hearing them all over again.

"Niña, you understand why the girls were mean, yes?" Patri asked gently.

You shrugged, because you didn't, not really. All you could think was that you deserved it.

"Because you are 17 years old and playing for this team. You are so talented, and so promising, and so humble about it, too. Those girls have no idea how to handle that jealousy without being cruel, without trying to put you down to make themselves feel taller."

You had to admit, when Patri explained it, it made sense. Hearing those words from her took some of the weight off your shoulders, even if it was only a little bit for now.

Alexia hummed her agreement to what Patri said, nudging your foot with hers before she spoke. "We can't fix what happened while you were gone, nena. But we can tell you that you are not alone, and nothing that was said to you was true. You are good and kind and you deserve to be here. Okay?"

Again, all you could do was shrug. But Alexia could see the tears silently sliding down your face, and she knew that what she'd said had mattered, had been what you needed to hear.

"Ven," Alexia said, standing and opening her arms for you. You buried yourself into the hug, letting the warmth from Alexia calm you.

It wasn't magically better. You didn't suddenly, miraculously feel better about yourself and who you were as a person. It just didn't feel as heavy, in that moment.

Your captains had gone out of their way to check on you, to insist you talk to them, just like Sydney had. There was no obligation for them to fulfill, they'd done it because they wanted to. Because they cared about you. And whether or not you thought that care was valid or deserved, it didn't matter. It was there either way.

Patri hugged you, too, after Alexia finally let go, murmuring something about finding those girls and teaching them a lesson, and you laughed. The both smiled at your smile like they'd won a prize, Patri slinging an arm across your shoulders as she walked you out of the film room and back to the locker room.

It was just as loud as ever in there, music blasting from the speaker. Pina had commandeered Patri's phone in her absence, and was playing something that Vicky was calling an abomination. Jana grabbed your wrist as soon as you stepped foot through the door, pulling you over to the bench in front of your cubby and practically shoving you down onto it. She started braiding your hair without you even asking, and you knew then that everyone had noticed something up with you, not just Sydney, and not just your captains.

The volume of the locker room didn't feel like a party happening around you that you weren't invited to, anymore. It felt comfortable, the way it always had before.

You didn't realize you were sitting there, smiling, until Sydney caught your eye from across the room. She looked anxious, and you realized she probably expected you to be angry with her for going to Alexia and Patri about you.

Somehow, though, you weren't upset. You weren't really anything but relieved that your entire team didn't hate you. You smiled wider at Sydney, nodding your head once. Relief flooded her face, turning into amusement as Jana lightly slapped the top of your head, telling you not to move or you'd mess her up.

It really surprised you how much better you felt. How much a few people just caring and reaching out had done. You didn't really feel like questioning it, though. You didn't feel like ruminating in the thoughts and rethinking your every action.

You just felt like being there with your team, without overthinking anything. And that was a massive step in and of itself.

—

i know i throw this around a lot but i truly hate this. could not physically spend any more time on it thought without losing my mind, so i hope it's not too bad. don't tell me if it is thx <3

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #woso one shot #alexia putellas x platonic reader #alexia putellas x reader #patri guijarro x reader

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