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livinginshambles · 1 year

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But what about me | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: Established relationship - You're jealous of the new girl but are mature about it, James is oblivious, and he also forgets your birthday and anniversary.

Notes: So here it is, a new version. I'm not going to continue the taglist, because it is kind of a hassle to take care of. Lily is our friend. OC Rosalie sucks. James is stupid. Spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes, probably a happy ending, you know the drill.

Masterlist

“What’s on your mind?”

_________________________

You stared at James from a distance.

You shot up, your eyes widened in an alarmed manner before your posture relaxed when you saw it was Annabelle. She was a Hufflepuff ghost, a student who had tragically died during a Triwizard tournament, a few decades ago.

You shook your head in reassurance. “Nothing’s on my mind-“

“-So, the usual then?” Sirius’ voice popped up behind you and you wasted no time in elbowing him in the ribs, causing him to let out an “oomph”. You quickly waved at Annabelle who floated off.

“Watch it Padfoot,” you sternly told him, and you tried your best to give him a reprimanding look. By the laughing sound of his reaction, you failed in appearing intimidating.

“So,” Sirius began. “Big day tomorrow ey?” He wiggled his eyes suggestively. You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, my birthday. Stop making it sound weird,” you huffed, and you shook your head.

“Totally worth it, Annika just walked past us with a beet red face,” Sirius defended with a mischievous grin.

“You should stop your inappropriate comments, I mean you are literally my cousin,” you stated loudly, and Sirius earned a disgusted look from another student passing by.

Sirius’ mouth hung open and then he scrambled to defend himself. “So, we’re not related at all, she was kidding!” His voice and pitch raised by the end of the sentence as he called out to the student who’d given him a not-so-subtle side eye.

You gave him a smug look. “Fine,” Sirius relented. “Truce?” You two shook hands.

“You’re not trying to steal my girl, are you Pads?” Two arms found their way around your waist, followed by a kiss to your cheek.

Sirius let go of your hand to hold them up in surrender. “I wouldn’t dare, Prongs, just chatting because she seemed lonely,” he shrugged. You shot him a glare.

“Lonely?” James’ attention immediately zoned in on you.

“He’s just talking out of his ass, Jamie,” you waved it off.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, because you were definitely not longingly looking at Prongs here, talking to that gir-“ This time, you kicked his shins.

“Nah, I’m just pranking you, mate,” Sirius nonchalantly changed course and patted James on the shoulder while he passed him. James ignored him and focused on you.

He spun you around by one arm, held above your head like you were doing a ballroom dance. His hands quickly settled on your sides when you faced him, and he leaned over to pepper your face full of pecks. You grinned up at him and he fondly looked back before pulling you in again for a deeper kiss.

“Really?” A portrait next to you spoke up snorted. “Right in front of my salad?” He gestured to the painted salad on the dinner table in front of him.

James pointedly ignored him and instead tried to pull you a little bit closer. Not that that was possible.

“Oh, now you’re just doing it on purpose,” The man in the painting complained, and you would imagine the grimace on his face if you weren’t too preoccupied with James, who was leaving small pecks against your lips.

“Don’t like what you see, look away,” James murmured against you.

“Disrespectful cretin these days. I would look away, but you are right in my sight,” The portrait huffed dramatically. You softly pushed James away to offer the poor man a sheepish look but found that he’d already escaped to a neighboring painting.

“So tomorrow,” James started, and you couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect of a date with James. That giddy feeling sank very quickly when James finished his sentence.

“I’ll be training our newest Chaser for the day. That’s the girl I was talking to before,” he explained. “Her name’s Rosalie James, isn’t that funny? Like her last name is James, it confused me a lot during today’s practice,” James continued, not noticing that your mind had wandered of the brunette girl.

“She even joked that if we’d get married, I could change my name to James James,” he laughed. You didn’t particularly see the humor in that.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I know I said that we would study together in the library tomorrow, but I think we should move that to Sunday.”

You frowned, “can we not just move it to the evening then?” you asked, wondering if James was really planning on spending the entirety of your birthday with someone else.

“Well, it’s from 9 o’clock until 7 o’clock in the evening, and we have a Quidditch party thing afterwards, but it’s more of a teambuilding thing. I can ask them if you can join though?” James offered.

You blinked at him in confusion before offering him a smile in return. “What, no- I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you denied. You assumed that he’d find some time to squeeze in a birthday celebration.

James shrugged. “Suit it yourself, love.”

You didn’t actually think James would forget your birthday. After all, James was literally the perfect boyfriend. He was proud to show you off to people, always ready to lend an ear when you needed to, and most of all showering you with love, any chance he gets.

But we’re all still humans after all, today was very busy so it probably just slipped his mind. That’s completely okay, you told yourself. And so, you tried to push away your thoughts, wanting to enjoy the cake that you and the girls had snuck from the kitchen as a late-night snack.

“Red velvet is the best, I swear,” Lily laughed with a sigh as she let herself fall flat on her back in satisfaction. Marlene agreed wordlessly, preoccupied with stuffing more cake in her mouth.

“Happy birthday again,” Alice smiled kindly at you, and you beamed at her. “Thank you, guys, for today, you shouldn’t have bought me the expensive painting equipment,” you said as you motioned towards the brand-new canvasses, brushes, primer, and oil paint.

“Nonsense,” Marlene replied in mock offense. “But you will paint me one day, right?” She batted her eyelashes at you. You pretended to think about it. “I mean, for 15 galleons?” you joked and then had to rush to take your words back when Marlene agreed without hesitance.

“I was only joking,” you laughed and swatted her lightly.

“Eh, leave the joking to your boyfriend and the other marauders,” Lily teased you. “Speaking of them,” she started, and you looked down, knowing the follow up question. “What did they get you for your birthday?

“Well,” you recalled your day so far. “Peter, Remus and Sirius gifted me an expandable suitcase, so I can put all my collectables in there.”

“Damn,” Alice whispered. You sheepishly scratched your head. “Yeah, it took me by surprise too. Last I checked, it cost way too much. I sure hope they acquired it in a legal manner,” you joked.

“I mean, both Sirius and James are well off, so maybe they could afford it and actually bought it,” Alice joked along.

You shrugged. “Oh, James didn’t pitch in for the suitcase. Remus said that he’d told them he was getting something more personal for me,” you said.

“Ugh, what a sap,” Lily commented lightheartedly, and you agreed with a chuckle. “So, what did he get you then?” Lily asked exasperatedly, already expecting something ridiculously grand.

There was a beat of silence.

“Uh, I’m not sure, we didn’t get around to celebrating my birthday together,” you settled on answering.

“What?” Marlene, Lily, and Alice asked in chorus.

“He was busy,” you defended James.

“The entire day?” Marlene squinted her eyes, absolutely seeing through your bullshit excuse. You shrugged in response but nodded your head. “The entire day?” She repeated in disbelief. “Like he couldn’t pop in in the morning or during breakfast?” You shrugged again.

“I guess he forgot,” you mumbled, starting to feel down again. Alice quickly caught on to that and decided to change the subject, trying to cheer you up. “Anyway, should we picnic tomorrow by the lake?”

You exhaled in relief. “I would love that.”

Sirius and James entered their dorms and greeted the other two marauders. “And? Did she like the suitcase?” Sirius immediately asked while he made himself at home on the foot end of Remus’ bed.

“Definitely, like she couldn’t believe it. She even did the happy wiggly dance,” Peter and Remus laughed at the memory. Sirius held his hand up to high five them and grinned in victory. “I told you guys, she needed someplace to put all that stuff she collects.”

James had been utterly confused since he stepped into the room and was not at all following the conversation. It was definitely about you, he figured that much from the wiggly happy dance. But what on earth were they buying you stuff for?

“You guys gave Y/N a suitcase?” He asked cluelessly.

“Yeah, why?” Remus inquired, eyebrows raised. “Is that not up to standard to the great James Potter?” He sarcastically asked, already expecting James to start gloating about whatever he got as a present for you.

“Well, if you guys have that much money in abundance to spend, save some for great pranks too,” James complained jokingly.

Sirius stared at James in confusion. “Huh?”

Peter tilted his head while examining James’ facial expression of confusion and then hesitantly asked. “James, did you forget about Y/N’s birthday?”

Time stopped for James, and he could hear his heart beat loudly, blood rushing to his ears as realization dawned on him, entirely to slowly.

“Merlin!” he loudly cursed, wide-eyed.

At his confession, Remus and Sirius’ jaws slacked. “You forgot!?” They shouted in unison.

Peter covered his ears at their yelling.

“Y/N!”

You turned your head, trying to find the source and halted in your step when your eyes landed on James who was frantically making his way through the hordes of students, crowding the corridor. He had been trying to find you since breakfast.

“Yes?”

James stopped in front of you, out of breath, a little flushed in the face and an apologetic expression adorned his face. You already knew what he was going to say and held up your hand to stop him in advance.

“I don’t need your apology,” you sighed out. James words died in his throat, and it took a moment for him to break out of it. “Love, I’m a right twit, I know.” He unintentionally shot you a defeated look with puppy eyes that you couldn’t help but melt for.

“How was your day yesterday?” was all you ended up asking as you continued making your way towards the library. You motioned with your head for him to follow you.

“I missed you,” James sincerely answered. He still pouted, seemingly upset, but all directed at himself of course. “I can’t believe I forgot,” he frowned. “I’ll work to be the greatest boyfriend again, I promise.” His eyes sparkled with determination, and you couldn’t suppress your amusement anymore, a smile lifting the corners of your lips.

“Well, you’re not off the hook yet, Potter.”

“Not the last name,” James whined. You shot him an unimpressed look that had him accept defeat.

“So, no kisses for you anymore,” you huffed for extra measure, in retaliation to his complaint.

“Wait what? You can’t do that, that’s so mean,” James immediately protested.

“For a week,” you added. “Forgetting about me yesterday was mean to me too.”

James’ hand made its way to intertwine with yours. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But this is still okay, right?”

You squeezed his hand. “It’s twelve o’clock right now. Do you want to have lunch first or study a little bit in the library?”

James gave you a bright smile. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you to choose,” you retorted.

“Lunch, please.”

James spent the following week almost draped over you. His entire body leaned into you, your hands always together, and every time he came in for a kiss, he reminded himself to respect your wishes, which left him burying his face in your neck instead.

It was Sunday and you hummed peacefully to yourself while you were sketching in the boys’ dorms, on James’ bed. You sat in the middle of his crossed legs, his arms were wrapped around your middle. His chin was rested on your shoulder which left him with the perfect view on your drawing in progress.

“I love you,” he quietly mumbled.

“I know, Jamie. I love you too,” you nudged him. James’ arms slipped away, and he moved away from you, you frowned at the loss of contact and warmth, leaning into the pillows behind you instead. “What are you-?”

James moved in front of you and nestled himself between your own crossed legs, back to your stomach, exchanging the position you had previously been in. He slouched a bit until his head leaned against your chest.

“My, you’re putty today, love,” you teased him softly. You closed your sketchbook and started untangling his curly hair.

“I’m really sorry I missed your birthday,” James whispered. You melted.

You chuckled and shrugged. “Sometimes things slip our mind. It just made me feel a little bummed out, that’s all.”

James hummed. “Well, I can promise you that I won’t forget about our anniversary though,” he said, voice filled with determination. You laughed. “That’s still a long time from now Jamie,” you mused.

“I’m already counting down the days so that there’s absolutely no way that I’ll forget it.”

“Hey James?”

James looked up at you.

“It’s twelve o’clock.”

James blinked twice and then a wolfish grin appeared as he practically jumped up and turned to face you, tackling you to bring you in for a kiss.

You groaned at the impact of your head against the wall behind you and James grinned sheepishly in apology before grabbing your hips and pulling you further down the bed to make space so he could finally press his lips to yours, all while completely melting into you and sighing in relief at the feeling.

And for two weeks, everything seemed to be perfectly fine. Until Rosalie joined the picture again, that is.

Dorcas sat next to you in class and elbowed you softly. “What’s up with James and that girl?” she whispered. You looked up from your notes and glanced at James who was nodding enthusiastically at a drawing that Rosalie was showing James. It was a portrait of him, and you couldn’t help but feel a pit in your stomach at how well she drew him.

Features that were so on point, up to the little details like the three tiny birthmarks that seem to disappear amidst his freckles and that one freckle on his upper lip that you often pressed an extra peck to. You knew that for such a detailed, accurate and hyper realistic drawing, Rosalie had probably spent a lot of time studying him up close.

You averted your attention back to Dorcas and forced a smile. “She’s their new Chaser,” was all you replied.

Dorcas sent another skeptical look in James and Rosalie’s direction but didn’t comment on it any further.

“Guess what, love?!” James burst into the common room where you and Remus were calmly reading. James skipped over to the couch you were sitting on and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“What?” you entertained him.

“I just made a deal with the kitchen elves and they’re going to cook us a candle lit dinner for our anniversary,” James triumphantly grinned from ear to ear as if he had just won the Quidditch cup.

Your eyes widened and you jumped up in excitement and disbelief. “How did you manage to do that?” You curiously pondered.

James puffed his chest. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he secretively replied, and you huffed and swatted him with a laugh. “We’re all magicians here, James,” you pointed out with a pout.

James leaned down to press a kiss to your pouted lips. “Just enjoy dinner with me. It’s in three weeks.” He was not about to tell you that he made a deal with the elves to go and clean the kitchen every day after supper for three weeks.

“Thank you, James,” you said, voice muffled because you had your face buried in his neck, arms around him in a tight hug.

You were incredibly excited for your anniversary, having a surprise for him as well, as you managed to get him tickets to the Quidditch world cup.

You waited for James in the changing rooms, Gryffindor had just lost an important match to Slytherin, and you knew that James would be feeling down. The Gryffindor team walked in, and you got up from the bench you were seated on. When you found James, he immediately came in for a hug.

“You did great out there, love. I’m proud of you,” you whispered.

“But it wasn’t enough,” James frowned. “They’re just always better than us, it doesn’t even matter how much we practice, because in the end, we can’t beat them.”

You stroked his hair in a consoling manner.

“And what’s the point if we can’t bloody beat Slytherin,” James spat out in frustration. You threw Sirius a look over James’ shoulder.

“Don’t say that, Jamie. You’ve won the last two games, and you don’t have to win against them,” you tried. Apparently, that was not what James wanted to hear and you would later beat yourself up for seeming to discard his feelings.

James pulled away with a frown. “But it’s not enough!” You flinched at his loud tone. “I just want-, It’s,” he let out an aggravated sound. “You don’t understand, okay. The feeling of constantly losing to the same opponent, its-“ James was struggling to find the words and you tried to apologize, alarmed, and feeling guilty.

Rosalie showed up behind James and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we’ll get them next time, James. She just doesn’t get it because she’s not on the team.”

You felt hurt by her dismissive statement and wanted to retort when James agreed with her. “Exactly, Y/N, you don’t even play Quidditch, you don’t know what this feels like.”

Your heart sank in embarrassment and hurt, and your mouth formed an inaudible ‘oh’.

“Come on, Prongs. It’s not her fault we lost, don’t take it out on her,” Sirius moved to stand next to James and swatted him lightly. James sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched his nose.

“’m sorry, love. That was totally uncalled for,” he admitted, and he reached his arm for you to pull you back in for a hug. You subtly evaded his arm and swiftly moved yourself to the door.

“No, no. I actually need to go meet up with Peter, so uh. You guys have fun. And yeah,” you awkwardly did a mini wave with your hand towards the team and fled.

Sirius leaned in towards James. “Good job, mate.”

“Sod off.” You didn’t leave his mind at all for the rest of the night.

You were about to scream bloody murder when you were shaken awake in the middle of the night, but a hand covered your mouth and when your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could vaguely make out your boyfriend.

“James?” you incredulously whispered. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”

James motioned to his invisibility cloak. “Sleep with me?” He asked and gave you a pleading look. You folded and so you tripled to the boy’s dorms under the cloak and then nestled yourself in his arms. A leg draped over his while you two fell into a peaceful slumber.

James was once again looking everywhere for you. This time with a slight sense of dread instead of the usual excitement.

When he finally found you and saw that you were laughing along with Sirius, he hesitated. He was halfway through changing his mind on addressing the issue with you when you called out to him.

“Morning!” you said, and you slid a sandwich in his direction. “You missed breakfast today, everything okay?" You asked.

James glanced at Sirius, and he excused himself and then left.

“I know we were going to go to Hogsmeade for our anniversary, but Rosalie managed to get tickets to a Quidditch game of our favourite team, and we even get to meet them afterwards. Like I can ask them for tips on playing, it’s just such an opportunity…” He trailed off when he noticed your fallen expression, which you quickly tried to cover up.

“Hey, that sounds like an amazing opportunity,” you assured him because it was true.

“We’re still on for that candle lit dinner, though?” You tried to joke, but it came off more as an insecure question.

James immediately enveloped you in a big hug. “Of course we are, 10 o’clock in the evening and I promise I’ll make it up to you afterwards.”

You laughed quietly. “You better.”

Your eyes crinkled in laughter as the kitchen elves tried their best to cheer you up and keep you occupied while James was hopefully simply running late. But by the time it was one o’clock in the morning, you decided to call it a night and thanked the elves for teaching you two new dishes and chess.

On your way to the dorms, you heard hushed whispers around the corner. When you turned it, however, you saw it was empty, but you knew better. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, contemplating if you wanted to do this now or tomorrow.

“James,” you called out.

There was a beat of silence and then the invisibility cloak slid off to reveal James and Rosalie, sneaking back inside the castle.

“Love? What are you doing up at this hour-“ he stopped halfway through his sentence with a curse.

“Wait, Y/N, this is my fault, not James’,” Rosalie piped up, but you were done with her.

“Go.”

Rosalie shot James one last glance and when he didn’t look back at her, instead still frozen, attention focused on you, she scurried away.

“I lost track of time. We went to have drinks with the players and time flashed by so quickly and then I completely forgot. And then Rosalie got sick, so -“

“Stop talking about her for a moment.” James looked at you, confused.

“Every single time, it is always you and Rosalie. It’s always her.” You didn’t bother hiding your hurt feelings anymore.

“But what about me,” you whispered defeatedly.

James shook his head. “No, it’s not her. I swear it’s not. It’s bad timing.” he firmly stated. “This isn’t even her fault, it was me and my enthusiasm to go to the game, I-“

“Why do you keep defending her?” You cut him off, allowing tears to well up in your eyes. James bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry,’ he eventually admitted.

“Yeah,” you breathed out exhaustedly. “You always are, aren’t you? Just like you always promise to make it up to me.”

“I will,” he weakly defended. “We can go back to the kitchen right now, eat food, celebrate our anniversary,” his eyes desperately searched yours for forgiveness, but in the darkness of the castle, he couldn’t find any.

“I spent three hours in the kitchen already, I’ve eaten the great food that the elves prepared for me, and our anniversary has already passed,” you coldly stated.

James’ eyes averted to his own feet, ashamed.

You tightly shut your eyes for a moment. And basked in the silence. When you opened your eyes again, you took in James’ posture. He seemed so very small all of a sudden.

Then you walked straight past him, while he was still frozen in place. When you passed him, you halted next to him and turned your head towards him. “I really hope she’s worth it, James.”

This seemed to snap him out of it, and he turned around in a flash. “Wait!” he called out in panic and immediately lowered his voice. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?” His eyes were pleading, and he looked distraught.

You scoffed softly to yourself. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m tired, so I’m going to bed, or else I actually will,” you replied shortly and retreated to your dorm.

Sirius whistled when James entered the room and unknowingly started to rub salt right in James’ well-deserved wound. “One o’clock in the morning, damn Prongs. You two must’ve had fun in the kitchen. How was the food? Did you like the present? I helped her with that,” he boasted.

James shook his head, “I messed it up again, Padfoot.”

Sirius eyes squinted ever so slightly at James. “No way,” he ended up asking in disbelief.

James didn’t answer right away, and Sirius got up out of bed and approached James. Then he shoved him. “Tell me you showed up for your anniversary, Prongs.”

James who had been looking at the ground finally met Sirius eye to eye, tears pooling in his own eyes. “We just lost track of the time, and then Ro-“

“If you finish that sentence and it’s about Rosalie, I will hurt you, James Potter.”

James helplessly looked at Sirius. “But you guys have it all wrong. It’s not her fault-“

Sirius grabbed James by the collar and shook him for good measure. “Prongs, mate. Wake the bloody hell up, would you.” His eyes bore straight through James’.

“Rosalie fancies you. It’s as clear as day. She demands your attention at all times. Asks for Quidditch practice, specifically with you, for an entire day. She diminishes our Y/N’s value in front of everyone, is pretentious and makes it seem as if you two are more compatible. She tries so hard to have so many common things with you like her last name, and she literally has a sketchbook full of portraits of you, which is rather creepy. Besides, she fully knew you were supposed to be back by ten o’clock for your date. I get it man, it’s subtle, but you’re smarter than that.”

Sirius released James and sighed. “And worst of all, Prongs, is that you let it happen. And every time you do, she wins a little more until Y/N will stop playing this stupid game for you.”

James let Sirius’ words sink in and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how right Sirius was.

“I don’t do it on purpose, Pads. Believe me. I know everything looks terrible, but I didn’t realize it.” James took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes tiredly, and pulled a hand through his locks.

“I forgot her birthday, but it was just a busy day, and I don’t really have a choice as captain but to train the new players. A-and I immediately apologized to Y/N when I realized what a twat I was in the locker room. And I didn’t miss my anniversary for a date with another girl or anything, there was a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet people I’ve looked up to, and I know it looks bad together because Rosalie was involved in all those instances, but I never meant to hurt Y/N. You know I’m in love with her.”

James started pacing through the room. It was a miracle that the others hadn’t woken up yet.

“Okay, I believe you,” Sirius decided after consideration. “But maybe try properly explaining and apologizing to Y/N. And then confront Rosalie and tell her to sod off.”

James nodded. “Yeah, yeah okay. I’ll do that.” Sirius looked a little skeptically at James and then patted his shoulder before climbing back in bed, while James did the same.

He had almost fallen back asleep when James asked, “Do you think she’d forgive me?”

Sirius was quiet. He’d seen the hurt look on your face multiple times and had instead tried to keep your mind off of James whenever he saw you stare at James and Rosalie.

“I think she might break up with me, Sirius,” James whispered in a small voice. He couldn’t sleep, his mind was filled with guilt, distress and you.

“Go sleep James, we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

You took a deep breath before pushing through the grand doors of the Great Hall. You spotted the empty seat amongst the marauders and let your eyes slide across the Gryffindor table to look for James.

You found him talking with Rosalie, and you almost wanted to turn around and leave, when you spotted her sour face when he finally walked back to his seat. James wore a relieved expression and was greeted by the marauders with pats on the back in congratulations.

Sirius spotted you and waved you over, scooting over himself so you could squeeze in.

“Good morning,” you gratefully smiled at the boys and sat down. James absentmindedly loaded your favourite food on your plate out of habit and then hesitated. He hadn’t really dared look you in the eyes yet, still ashamed after lying awake all night, thinking of all the things he’d done.

When your stretched out hand appeared in his sight, he looked up and saw a kind expression on your face. He handed you the plate and relaxed a little.

“Sirius tells me you want to explain some things to me, so unless you have a date with Rosalie over there,” you gestured to the girl who was not looking happy. “We could talk after breakfast?”

James nodded eagerly, eyes wide. “Yes, please.” He stared at you, and almost frowned, wondering why you didn’t seem as angry as you did last night, or rather this early morning.

You noticed his stare and knew what he was thinking. “I told you; I was tired, upset and couldn’t deal with it then. But I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I have thought about everything and decided that I’m not going to rashly throw away two years of unconditional love and friendship between us, for things that I feel like you want to explain to me. It’s not so black and white in decisions when it comes to love and my love isn’t that fragile.”

“Thank you,” James breathed out, already feeling like crying.

“Don’t thank me, thank Pads, he is vouching for you,” you hummed. “But your explanation better be worth it. And that’ll be at least two weeks without kisses.”

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davdcorenswet · 1 month

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🌲 road trip.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: when your camping trip with scott gets cut short because of a work emergency, you nearly kill him and every member of storm par, intent on making your ire well known on the drive home. but when you push scott too far, his impatience has other plans. or “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, no use of y/n, bdsm, established dom/sub dynamic, pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby), brief mentions of serial killerisms (teasingly… maybe), semi-priv public sex (in a truck), scott has a whore mouth (again), groping, belting (f! receiving), spanking/slapping (f! receiving, breasts & v), oral (m+f), nippleplay (f! receiving), unprotected pinv, orgasm denial, fingering (f), cumplay, breeding A/N: when the "just a quick one shot" turns into a beast... oops? 😬 thank you to my proud sponsor aka the scott rot™️! if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

On hour two of the drive back to OKC, you think you’ve lost your mind.

What had begun as a much-anticipated weekend road trip with Scott — an incredibly overdue escape, though you weren’t exactly keeping track — had swiftly turned from enjoying the fresh, open air and the promise of an entire weekend distraction-free, to a mountain of frustration that battled the ones in the distance. All because your charming, secretly sentimental boyfriend had wanted a picture of you and the sunset for his lock screen.

If you weren’t so upset about it, you probably would’ve laughed.

But this was the fourth (fourth!) time that something had gotten in the way of your Scott Time, and, look — you needed it. So. Fucking. Badly.

Which was why when his phone had gone off again, after Scott had ignored the voicemails Javi left him, you were so, so very tempted to hurl the fucking thing into the pond. Instead, you sat there, already trying to think of a way to get your lick back with the fact that he was the one who’d insisted that going off the grid meant going off the grid and electronics simply took away from the nature of it all, the hypocritical ass. And you’d watched, with dawning realization and equal devastation, as Scott’s entire demeanor had shifted from peeved that Javi even had the audacity, to shutting his mouth and speaking in yes, sir’s and I understand, sir’s.

Oh, Marshall Riggs was going to get an absolute earful the next time y’all sat down for Sunday dinner.

But first, you had your sights set on Scott. And, quite frankly, he deserved every second of petulant that you were giving him.

When he adjusted the air conditioning, you dropped the temp lower. When he found a good station on the radio, you changed it. When he asked for one of the snacks by your seat, you munched on it first, mumbling a fake apology when you passed him a small piece. And when you finally started talking, it was one word answers: yes, no, dunno, sure, fine, whatever.

And every time he gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter, you felt vindicated by the fact that it was ticking him off.

Good. You were ticked off. And unbelievably, atrociously bored. There were only so many things you could do in his truck while you were half giving him a cold shoulder. And, well, after the last time you’d reached for the volume and he’d caught your wrist with a stern ‘knock it off’, like you were a child, you’d resorted to pouting out the window, then sifting through his middle storage, and then snooping through his glove box.

All of which were boring, in the exact way that only a man’s truck could be boring. Who didn’t have a car Chapstick, but could have packs of gum hidden everywhere? And where were the just-in-case napkins? And what did he even use pliers for?

Your brattiness — no, curiosity — wins over the agitation that still simmers just under the surface. You turn to Scott with a mischievous grin as you hold up the pliers. “Be honest. Are you secretly a serial killer?”

Scott glances at you, then at the pliers, before rolling his eyes with a faint smirk. “Caught me,” he deadpans, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to draw out your giggle.

“I knew it.” You dig further into his glove box like you expect to find a pair of gloves, which stupidly has you giggling because you’d lost your mind, see, and there was no way there’d actually— Oh. Shit. He really did have gloves. “You’re the worst serial killer I’ve met. Your whole murder kit is in here and you haven’t even tried to kill me yet?”

“Getting close to it, honey,” Scott quips, a teasing edge to his voice that makes your heart flutter. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips, betraying his amusement.

Until you keep it up, making an exaggerated show of pulling out every item you find, each discovery more dramatic than the last. The subtle tightening of his jaw tells you that rummaging through his stuff is getting more of a rise from him than your earlier silence had. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the whites of his knuckles glowing under the moonlight, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the sight.

Curling your knees to your chest with his newest item in your lap (a bundle of zip ties), you bat your lashes up at him with feigned innocence. “Am I bothering you, baby?”

“Nope.” Scott, to his credit (you pretend it’s not because you’re his girlfriend but because he just chooses to be kind), swallows down whatever shitty retort is on the tip of his tongue as he shakes his head. “Not at all.”

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to the road, as if anchoring himself, before he plasters one of his obnoxiously fake smiles on that doesn’t reach his eyes. Your own smile slips at the blatant irritation bubbling just beneath the surface, hating that look, knowing he knew you hated when he was fake with you. He reaches over, his hand finding your knee — not in the usual affectionate squeeze, but more as a grounding gesture, a silent plea for you to stop before you push him too far.

“You might want to close that now,” he adds, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable edge as he jerks his chin toward his still-open glove box. “Before I really lose my patience.”

“But...” you start, pouting a little, your fingers lingering on the edge of the glove box. “I was just having fun. I mean, what else could be in here? Secret spy gadgets? Hidden treasures?”

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. His patience is fraying, each word clipped and precise as he says, “Close. It. Now.”

You relent, closing it with a dramatic flourish and an equally exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. Glove box exploration time is over.”

Scott exhales, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Thank you,” he mutters, though his eyes still carry a hint of irritation as he changes the radio station a couple of times, scowling at the country crooning through his speakers, before just shutting it off.

“You sure you’re okay?” You test, still pushing his limits. You figured that Scott knew you better than that. That you knew him better than that. Nearly seven months together — again, not that you were counting — and he really thought you couldn’t tell when something was off?

You continue, “Just because… Well, you seem a little stressed. Is it because you didn’t get to tie me up and torture me back there by the pond? I mean, I’m sure you’ll get another chance someday, like when cows fly, but—”

“Are you done?” Scott huffs, shooting you a look.

You don’t back down from it, leveling him with your own hard expression. When he’s forced to return to the road, breaking eye contact first, that prideful part of you purrs. He sighs. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but I don’t have any other choice. So sit down, shut up, and stop fucking with my system, please.”

He says the last through gritted teeth, and as much as you loved to antagonize him, you knew when to push and when to not. Putting the last of the stuff back where you’d found it exactly how you’d found it, you stuff your hands under your thighs and pout quietly until he visibly relaxes again.

“You’re not being very nice,” you mumble, the silence that encases you both too much to bear.

Scott runs his tongue over his teeth, then looks over at you, his expression hard. “And you’re lucky I haven’t spanked your ass raw for that attitude yet.” Surprise must flash across your face, because a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth that he quickly masks. “What? Did you think I would just let all that slide?”

“No.”

Maybe.

“Liar.”

Damn it.

Before you can say anything else, Scott reaches over, gently but firmly tilting your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as his eyes leave the road for a second. “Do I need to remind you of the rules?” he asks, his tone shifting from frustrated to something far more controlled and deliberate — each word laced with a quiet authority that sends a shiver down your spine and makes your blood run hot.

It’s a tone you’ve come to know all too well, one that signals a subtle shift in the dynamic between you, a reminder of exactly who’s in charge.

To anyone else, it might have sounded like another classic Scott lecture — a stern word from someone who was used to being in control. But you knew this side of him intimately well, understood the depths of what he was really asking. This wasn’t just about a conversation or setting you straight; it was a command, a subtle but potent assertion of the power he held over you.

“Answer me,” he prompts, his voice dropping to a low, steady hum that makes your pulse race. “Yes or no, honey.”

“No,” you breathe, testing the waters of defiance.

“Let’s try that again.” Scott’s grip remains steady on the wheel, but the weight of his gaze feels like a tightening hold around you. “No, what?” he asks, his voice low and demanding, leaving no room for anything but the correct response.

You swallow. The tension between you is thick and electric. “No, sir.”

He holds your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity, long enough for you to actually worry about him being behind the wheel. But a quick glance at the road reassures you — he’s in complete control, staying perfectly between the lines, maintaining a comfortable distance from the cars ahead and behind.

His eyes flicker to your mouth, lingering there with a deliberate intensity. “We’ll see.”

A noise of discontent escapes you immediately when he returns to his side of the truck as if nothing happened, all the air leaving your lungs. We’ll see. That was it? No good girl? It’s a reprimand all on its own, defiance filling you quickly.

What was the point of his rules if he wasn’t going to listen to them?

First with his phone, which had gotten you here in the first place, and now this. You pout, crossing your arms as you glare at the car in front of you, hating everything about this weekend. God, you’d both been so exhausted from the drive to the campsite that you hadn’t even touched him like he’d promised you could **— **on top of the week he’d already instructed you not to touch yourself.

And now Scott was going to be buried in work again. He’d drop you off at home just to drive another hour or two to who the hell knew where, and from there it was back to the office to get the paperwork rolling, call the banks, pouring hour after hour into making sure this deal went through. All because Riggs had decided his time off was more important than yours.

But it wasn’t. You’d waited eons for this. And you were damned if you were going to let both him and Scott stop you.

Slowly, so slowly, you angle yourself toward your boyfriend, his eyes distant as he readjusts in his seat and fishes absentmindedly for a piece of gum to smack on. For a moment you can’t help but admire him, appreciating the way he filled out the seat, the way his jaw worked with the gum, how when he got lost in his thoughts and had a particularly interesting idea he swiped his fingers along his perfect, full mouth.

He was masculine without any effort, intelligent and calculating, and, despite this weekend, was the most attentive boyfriend you’d ever had.

And you ached for him.

Just that tone shift alone — from Scott to sir — had spiked your temperature, leaving you warm with the lack of air conditioning. You knew better than to reach for the knobs, even if the thought of him pinning your wrist down had your thighs pressing together. So you shift forward to unzip his jacket you’d stolen, meaning to shimmy it off, when you catch his eyes on you.

Instead of taking it off completely, you let the gray fabric bunch to your elbows. His eyes slide from the way it now sits on you to your white tank top before focusing back on the road, his gum making that unmistakable snap! he always did. “What’re you doing?” He asks, stealing another glance as you wriggle in the seat.

“Just hot, baby,” you hum, which wasn’t a lie.

But there’s no way to be subtle as you collect your hair into a ponytail and tie it with your scrunchie, just like there’s no way Scott can be subtle as he zeroes in on your hair being up or the fact that your tits jiggle with every bump or dip in the road. His hand flexes on the wheel, quick to snap his attention to the mirrors, as if he’d been checking them in the first place.

You bite back a smile.

By the time Scott is pressing on the brakes, an accident brings the two-lane down to one, one foot is propped up on his dashboard, your head turned to face him with every sigh that leaves your lips. With nothing to pull his attention now other than the slow crawl, his eyes catch yours again, his guard dropping as he falsely believes you’ve listened.

And that’s when you make your move.

“Baby,” you groan, wetting your lips as your fingers brush across his sleeve. Your other hand rests against your knee, slipping down along your thigh while you bat thick lashes up at him. “Can you turn the air on, please? I’m dying.”

“Mhm.” Scott does, following the invisible line your fingers paint across your skin as the air kicks on. The cool air is welcomed and the content noise that leaves you isn’t entirely fabricated. When his hand drops to rest on your thigh, you know he feels how flushed you are under his cold touch. And you know he feels you arch into it. “How’s that? Better?”

“’ Little.” Not even close, but you play it up now that you’ve got him. “Still too hot.”

“Sorry, honey,” Scott’s deep voice is genuine, frowning a bit as he squeezes your thigh. “Got it the lowest it can go. Need me to roll a window down?”

You shake your head. “It’d just bring all the hot air in.” Something he should’ve known, but you couldn’t blame him for being a little distracted. You press on, confident, still inflecting that whine in your voice. “Your hand feels good, though.”

His touch inches up your thigh in response, sure that he’s not even aware he’s doing it. As your touch moves in time with his, you drag your free hand across your chest, pressing against the leather of his seats and pushing a strap off your shoulder. The cool air directly hitting you causes a flurry of goosebumps to rise and your nipples to poke through the fabric, chest rising and falling as you make a show of overheating.

Scott snaps his gum again, removing his hand to tug gently on his jacket. “What did I say about going through my stuff?”

“Oh, you left it at my place. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” You try to play innocent, but the smile you give him is nothing short of mischievous as you intentionally arch up into his touch. “Do you want it back, sir?”

He’s quiet for so long that you think he’s returned to the road. Instead, his eyes are locked on the thin tank top that clings tight around you. A quiet hum echoes in the back of his throat as he runs his knuckles over the swell of your breast, dragging slowly across your nipple, before he seems to think better of himself and places both hands back on the wheel.

“Keep it.” He grunts, “It looks better on you, anyway.”

“Really?” Despite how you try to hide the happiness from your voice, you fail miserably. Scott didn’t offer many liberties, especially not with his personal belongings. You don’t let the distance keep you far, unhooking your seatbelt and leaning over the center divider to beam up at him.

“Really.” Your heart pitter-patters in your chest when he hums again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His eyes slide back to the road, still at a slow crawl. “Don’t get any ideas, honey.”

Oh, you had about fifty different ones, most of which included seeing how far you could go down this new avenue. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzling against his cold skin, slipping your arm through his and guiding his hand back to your thigh. Scott squeezes again, a small warning to behave. But since when did you do that?

“Come on,” he taps an index against you after a few minutes, “Buckle up. Safety first.”

“But—” You pout, wrapping your arm around him tighter. He could drive with one hand, and besides, you were barely moving enough for a seatbelt to matter. “You feel so nice. And you’re always away for sooo long, baby. And now you’re gonna be gone again?” Brushing your nose along his jaw, you let your hand drop casually to his thigh. “I just miss you.”

“It’ll only be for a few days.” He shifts under you, chewing his gum slower. No doubt weighing whether he should let this continue or end it early.

“A few days too many.” You feel him inhale as your touch roams, sliding over his muscled thigh and across the zipper of his jeans. He’s already half-hard, the outline of him growing more apparent as you continue, “Do you know how lonely it gets without you? Knowing I can’t cuddle you… Kiss you… Touch you?”

You grope him where you know his weak point is while leaning up to scrape your teeth against his earlobe. His hips lift of their own accord as he instinctively searches for more, his grip on the wheel tightening as he squeezes your thigh in his big hands.

You hide your smile as he thickens under your palm. And smile wider at the growl in his voice as he orders, “Behave.”

“Am I breaking any rules, sir?” With your lips at his ear, every needy breath against him has Scott tensing in response.

Your shorts ride up — and so does his hand, until he’s close enough that you can grind your clothed heat into him. It’s just a single roll of your hips, keeping pressure where you crave him, but it has you whining all the same.

“Please, I missed you so much… I miss touching you, feeling how big you are in my hands…” You drag your palm against his thick length, fully straining against his zipper now, his breath coming out heavy as you grip him. “Please, please, just let me taste you. I’ll be such a good girl, I promise. Wouldn’t I look so pretty with your cock stuffed down my throat? Sounding so pretty as I choke on you?” You whimper against him, the sound small and needy. “Please, sir?”

The combination of your fingers wrapped around him and the feel of your tongue lapping at that sweet spot on his neck has Scott groaning, the noise coming from deep in his throat. Before you can react, he presses you firmly back into your seat, keeping you pinned with his hand across your sternum while you try to fight against the distance he forces between you two.

“Behave.” His gaze meets yours, dark and heavy and no-nonsense.

Your cunt clenches at the authority in his tone, nipples peaking in response. Scott slips his palm under the fabric of your shirt, kneading your heaving chest and rolling the hardened nub between his index and thumb. You writhe at the sensation, a moan spilling out of you, until he pinches you hard enough that you gasp. Just as quick as it happens, he pulls out just enough to bring his palm down roughly against your tit.

The sting of the impact has you arching off the seat as your cry pierces the silence.

Scott presses his index to your mouth in warning as the police lights finally illuminate his truck, the accident off to the side. You’re breathing too heavy to pay attention to it beyond that, not caring about anything happening outside of this truck, and you pass by quickly without any incident.

The air is still heavy as you meet his gaze. And you can’t help when your fingers grip the sides of your shorts to bunch the material in your hands, greedily grinding into the taut seam aligned perfectly with your center.

Scott watches it all silently. “You want to be my good girl?” His fingers draw invisible lines down your thigh, spreading your legs apart with just a touch. You comply easily, nodding as he smooths his hand along your skin and ignites a fire inside you. “Then fucking act like one.”

There’s no warning when he slaps your pussy hard, the denim digging painfully into you. Your hands fly out to grip whatever you can as your hips stir against the pain, crying out as another smack sounds, punishing your disobedience.

And still, you can’t help but whine out for him. “But I need you! I’ve been so, so good this whole time, I swear. Even when you told me not to touch, even when I wanted to so badly— I listened, I swear I did.” Pouting over at Scott, you whimper. “Please, I promise.”

“Go on. Keep it up. Do you think you��re listening now?” His hand tightens to a fist as he rests it hard against the center divider. His gaze pings to the time display on the dashboard, then to you. “The more you misbehave, the longer you wait. Was a week too short, honey? Do we need to extend it to two? Three? Can you even wait that long without disobeying me again?”

You can barely answer, only whimpering out as you press yourself into his arm, careening out of the seat. His hand clasps hard around your wrist when you reach for his zipper again, cutting off whatever noise is in your throat with a low growl.

“If I have to pull over,” he grits out, looking you dead in the eyes, “You won’t be able to walk for a week.”

You level his hard gaze with your own even as your heart pounds heavy, his threat thinly veiled as his grip tightens around your wrist.

And you swear you don’t mean to, but the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Can you go that long without fucking me? If I can’t touch, neither can you. Not a kiss, not a hug, I won’t even let you fuck my mouth!”

As your frustration boils over, you breathe raggedly against yourself, fighting to rip your hand out of his strong grasp. He’s quiet as he watches you, the look in his eyes betraying nothing that simmers underneath the surface.

Calmly, too calmly, he continues driving, following the road as the dark trees pass you by. When he moves off the pavement to turn down a dirt road, your heart flies to your throat.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, looking behind you as if expecting anyone else to follow, but it’s just you on the solitary single lane, his tires crunching on the dirt road. “Scott?”

His mouth stays shut, turning into a clearing of trees. You usually love the outdoors, but the forest around you looks foreboding and eerie, the trees looming large overhead. You glance out the window to the night sky, but there’s not even a twinkle of starlight here. Just inky black nothingness.

He shuts the engine off, taking the headlights with it.

You think you stop breathing.

“Get in the back.” His order is quiet against the silence but travels along your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Now.”

As much as you want to protest, the words catch in your throat, refusing to form. Instead, you wordlessly climb over the center divider, dropping his zip ties into the cupholder with a deliberate clink. Your bags, shoved angrily into the back when he’d asked you to pack up, tumble to the floor, landing in a haphazard pile as you settle into the backseat.

The sudden darkness engulfs you, your eyes straining to adjust to the dim light. You can barely make out Scott’s silhouette, his intense gaze fixed on you before he opens his door with a determined click.

Silently, Scott slips out of the driver’s seat, the slam of each door echoing through the night like a final verdict. You hold your breath as he rounds the truck, each crunch of his boots against the twigs and leaves sounding louder than meant to be. The backseat door opens, and he slides in beside you, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

You find your breath again when his hand, warm and steady, smooths around your ankle, his touch both grounding and possessive. He makes room for himself, his presence filling the confined space with an electric charge. The air grows thick with anticipation as you sit there, the darkness around you deepening, your heart pounding in your chest.

Scott’s fingers trail up your leg with deliberate slowness, each movement precise and controlled. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you hostage. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, searching for some sort of escape. But it was too dark outside to see, the woods maybe terrified you a little bit without Scott by your side, and even if he chased after you — and you weren’t bratty enough to do that — you had absolutely no idea how to get back to a road, let alone the road.

And, well, you didn’t really want to get away from him. Just the punishment you knew he would dole out for your disobedience.

Still—

“I thought we had to get back to the city,” you squeak out, voice trembling against your better efforts as you try to plead your case to deaf ears, “Riggs– Riggs said you needed to be back, right? And you know how far my place is from your office, and—”

“We have time for this,” Scott interrupts, his voice firm, a low rumble that leaves no room for argument. He presses his index to the pout of your mouth, silencing you. It sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath hitching as you squirm under his grip, eyes wide and pleading.

If you were a deer in headlights, Scott was a hunter. And he was a damn good hunter.

Scott’s beautiful mouth curves into a grin, his eyes darkening with a hint of amusement. He leans in closer, his presence overwhelming, the scent of leather and the outdoors mingling with his intoxicating scent. The tension in the air thickens, every sound amplified by the stillness of the night. The rustling leaves outside, the distant hoot of an owl, even the faint hum of the truck’s cooling engine — all seem to echo the pulsing beat of your heart.

You can feel the rough texture of his jeans against your skin as he shifts, making himself comfortable, his body pressing against yours in the confined space. His hand, warm and commanding, moves from your mouth to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so,” he states, his eyes gleaming, all possession and affection. His words wrap around you like a promise, binding you to this moment, to him.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, the gravity of everything sinking in. Scott’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent command for your complete attention. His other hand slides down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before settling on your waist, pulling you even closer.

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re safe with me.”

Your lashes flutter as a noise sounds in the back of your throat, caught between a plea and a whimper. You trusted Scott more than anything, and knew, without question, without fear, that he would never do anything you didn’t want.

And god, you wanted him bad enough that it ached.

“I need you to understand a few things, honey,” Scott continues, his voice still that deadly calm, his finger dragging slowly down your chin, tracing a deliberate path down the column of your throat. “I can tolerate you being upset. I’m not happy about it, either, despite what you might think.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his gaze lock onto yours, his eyes dark and unwavering. “But what I won’t tolerate,” he says, his tone sharpening as he closes his hand around your throat with a possessive grip, “is your disrespect.”

“But—”

“Shut up.” Scott’s voice is a low, dangerous growl as he tightens his hold on you, his thumb pressing firmly into your pulse. The pressure is confident and calculated — the kind of control that comes from having done this countless times before. “I’m not done.”

Defiance bubbles up and fights Scott at every turn, and despite the way you wriggle under him, your eyes grow hazy with need at the feel of his hand around your throat. God, you knew exactly what those hands were capable of; sweet, delicious torture, doling punishment and reward with equal passion. “But—”

“Why can you never fucking listen?” His voice drops to a growl that vibrates against your ear, his body shifting so that his weight presses down on you. You whimper at the added pressure, your fingers instinctively fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold onto something solid.

Scott notices. With a swift motion, he knocks your wrists away, gripping both of them together with a firm, unyielding hold. When he pins them above your head, possessive and commanding, you can’t help but moan, growing pliant under his weight.

“Maybe I do need to remind you of my rules,” he says, his voice a dangerous purr, “since you seem to like breaking them.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Every word is low and steady, completely in control. “You’re going to pay attention now, aren’t you? You’re going to listen to every word I say.”

Your pulse races under his thumb, the pressure making it difficult to focus on anything other than the commanding presence of his body pressed against yours. The conflicting emotions — fear, need, frustration — swirl together, drawing the breath from your lungs.

Scott’s eyes meet yours again, the dark intensity he’d first set on you softening slightly. “Do you trust me?” He asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, carrying with it both a challenge and an invitation.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. Always.

“Good.” He presses a tender kiss to your temple and cheek, nudging his nose into the curve of your shoulder and kissing the column of your throat. Your body responds in kind, arching up into his generosity, the calm before the storm, as he slowly releases his hold on you. One tap against your wrist is a silent order to keep them there, and you thread your fingers together, looping them into the door grip as he kisses his way back up to your mouth. “Because you’re going to hate me tonight.”

You want to tell him that such a thing is impossible — there was nothing Scott could do that would make you hate him, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was sometimes — but he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. Lifting you up, or at least as much as he can in the truck with his hulking size, Scott draws a hand around the curve of your waist, pushing his jacket aside to expose more of you.

“Take this off.” He orders. His expression melts back into one of superiority, one you’re all too familiar with, and you try not to pout when he continues with, “I changed my mind. I want it back.”

“Want what back?” You hum, fingers twitching. You debate the pros and cons of pointing out that you can’t take off his jacket with your hands still pinned in place, but bite your lip instead. You were already pushing the envelope — a lot — by feigning innocence.

“You know what.” Sensing that you’re still… sort of… listening, Scott, taps your wrist twice, freeing you of your position. Under his tone, your fingers close around the material of his comfortable clothing, lifting to slip it fully off your frame. You drop it next to your stuff with your eyes trained on his. “When I’m convinced you can behave, I’ll consider giving it back.”

That snaps your mouth shut. Pressing your lips together, you nod as you place your hands back in their previous position, the only tell that he’s satisfied by your change of heart being a slight twitch of a smile.

“I didn’t say you were done,” he drags his gaze along the length of you, his touch following where his eyes roam until he hooks a finger around the belt loop of your shorts. “Take these off, too, and turn around.”

Electricity charges through you at the command in his voice. Your movements are slow, careful, as you try not to bump into anything as you slide out from under him and remove your shirt. Your shorts follow, but he stops you as you hook your thumbs under the waist of your panties, both of his large hands sliding on your hips to face you opposite him.

He’s massive against you, your back pressing against his chest as his hands roam freely, trailing up the length of you and then down your arms to place your hands back in their previous position, fingers curling around yours in a silent gesture. And then his touch returns, calloused fingertips dragging over every spot of your soft skin, cupping your breast in his hand as he sighs against your neck.

You feel the hard length of him straining against his jeans as he pulls you to him, every caress coaxing a fire in you. Even though you want nothing more than to touch him, to take him into your hands, he has you caught. You really wanted that jacket.

And you hated disappointing him.

His touch wanders to your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he smooths a hand up your spine, signaling for you to bend over. You comply with shallow breaths, the warmth of him missing when he puts even more space between you.

“How many times do you think you disobeyed me tonight, honey?” He asks, the question making your heart stutter. He continues to knead your skin, but with your angle, you can’t see anything happening behind you. “I’ll let you guess.”

You try to think back, but everything is hazy now. When you got in these moods — which was more often than not — you had a hard time telling which rules were broken and which weren’t, because, well, you tended to do it a lot. And you knew Scott well enough by now that even if you guessed any number, it wouldn’t be specific. It wouldn’t be right. Guess lower, and he’d add more. Guess higher, and he’d use your number, then remind you of the true one after it was all said and done.

A gasp escapes from you as your eyes flutter shut. Fuck. “I– I don’t know, sir.”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he just hums, adjusting the twisted straps of your underwear higher up on your hips. “Thirty-two times.” He lets that sit heavy in the air for a moment, your breath stalling in your throat. “You know what happens when it gets that high, honey.”

“You use the belt,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Scott nods. “Mhm. I use the belt.” The soft, metallic clink of his buckle coming undone is followed by a steady hand against your hip, smoothing circles along your skin as you begin to tremble in anticipation. “Shhh. You know the rules. Count.”

The first point of contact is always the worst. He lets the moment play out, your body tensing and easing as you wait for any sign that it’s coming, but he gives no indication when he stops touching you. And then the sharp sting as leather meets your rear, the folded-over halves biting into you with practiced efficiency.

Your eyes squeeze shut, fingers tightening around the handle as you gasp out, “One.”

By the end, your muscles are taut and your backside is red and flaming, your whimpers spilling freely from your mouth. It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to hold yourself up, trembling with exertion. Scott rubs his hand along your curves, having given equal attention to both cheeks, a content noise sounding in the back of his throat as you still careen toward him.

“Last one, honey. You’re doing so good.” He praises quietly, the only encouragement you need as his belt goes sailing toward you again, leaving another welt in its wake.

“Thirty-two!” Escaping through gritted teeth, you jerk forward with the impact, breathing hard and heavy when you hear the clink of his belt falling to the floor.

Scott taps twice along your stomach as he brings you up to his chest, careful to leave space between you as he smooths over your sore muscles, easing the pain. He presses kisses along your throat, your shoulder, letting you shake against him as you lulls you down from the high, every touch soft and affectionate. “That’s it, I know… Shhh… Did so good for me, honey…”

Each sweet nothing brings you down, continuing to press kisses against your skin until your breathing evens out. Scott sets his hands to your hips, holding you firmly, nudging the space just behind your ear.

“If you just listened, I wouldn’t have to punish you.” He reminds, letting your hands drift over his. Despite the softness of his tone, you still catch the authority seeping through every word, and you know it’s far from over. “I don’t like how you spoke to me today, honey.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you breathe, meaning them truthfully. Scott presses another kiss to your skin in acknowledgment. “I was just upset. I wanted to spend this weekend with you, and—”

“Am I not making this time now?” He questions, cutting you off. When his touch wanders between your thighs, fingers circling your clothed clit, soaked despite his brutal treatment, he groans against you. “What was it you said earlier… That I couldn’t touch you? That you wouldn’t let me?”

Vaguely, through your hazy mind, you remember saying that. But you keep your mouth shut, quiet little noises escaping as he continues to please you, easing away the pain he’d caused. Your desire for him, so neglected because of his orders, coils deep inside you as he recites your perfect tempo — having spent hours exploring, learning, and committing what you enjoyed to memory.

“Let’s make one thing abundantly clear,” he continues. “Every part of you is mine to touch, spank, suck, lick, and fuck as I please. Any time. Any day. Any place. Those are the rules you agreed to. If I want you just like this…” Adding pressure, he holds you up as your knees buckle against him, “I will, for as long as I want. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Your words come out shaky, breath hitching with every skilled circle of his fingers. “I understand, sir.”

“Then show me you understand.” Within a second his touch is gone, leaving you delirious as you search for him. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you, twisting to watch him slip off his shirt, then ease himself down on the backseat with a foot firmly planted on the floor. His fingers hover over the button on his jeans, flipping it open as his dark gaze trains on you. “Come here.”

You comply immediately, drawing forward as his hand slips in your hair. Scott pushes down the restricting fabric, slipping his hand into his black briefs, freeing himself from his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, thick and veiny and dripping with precum, his fist stroking himself as he holds you there, coating his length with his desire.

“Look what you do to me,” he whispers, drinking in every shallow breath, the way your eyes remain fixed on his hand, how your hips stir with every twist like you imagining yourself riding him. “Even when you’re a fucking brat, I can’t get enough of you, honey. Always so fucking hard for you. You have no idea…” He releases himself to cup your chin, spreading himself over the swell of your mouth. You greedily taste what he offers, tongue lapping at him before sucking on the tip of his thumb. “I’d spend an eternity inside you if I could.”

Those words — the claim, the rare admission — makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Without waiting for his command, you crawl between his legs and sink to draw your hand along his jean-clad thigh, a silent plea echoing in your eyes. As he wets his lips, you grip his length in your hand, his girth barely allowing you to wrap fully around him. Scott’s breath hitches as you stroke him exactly how he prefers, your hand sinking lower with each slow, deliberate movement.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, the tip of his cock as pink as his lips, and you pay special attention to it, thumb smoothing along the sensitive underside of him. The soft action has his hips bucking up into your touch, breath hissing between his teeth as he wraps your hair around his fist.

No matter how many times you were in this position, nothing changed how exhilarating it was to have brief a moment of power over him.

When you move to take him into your mouth, your tongue flat and eager, Scott wraps his fingers around your throat, that playful glint in his eyes replacing quickly with hellish intent.

“Did I tell you that you could touch?” He murmurs, releasing his grip on your hair to pluck your hand off him.

You want to point out that he didn’t seem to have a problem with that when he’d been half-thrusting into your hand, but the look in his eyes silences the retort on your lips. So you let him grip your wrist, and your throat, sure he can feel the heavy pound of your pulse as you whimper at the interruption.

“I just want a little taste,” you plead, jutting your bottom lip out and batting your thick lashes up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

Scott just shakes his head. And you feel the coil of defiance begin again.

“Don’t you want my tongue on you, sir? Licking up every thick inch of you? Seeing how much I can take in my hot little mouth?” You know you’re pushing it with how his grip on your wrist tightens, but fuck, you needed to feel him, to touch him, especially after he’d denied you the pleasure of it for so long.

You shift so your free hand wraps around his shaft again. Scott grunts as he watches you play with him, your small hand moving effortlessly along his girth. With both his hands occupied, he has nothing to stop you from doing what you want, what you need, as your gaze flickers down to openly admire his masculinity. “Don’t I look so pretty when I choke on you, baby?”

Despite how his gaze darkens and he twitches in your hand, Scott releases your wrist enough to rest his hand on the edge of the backseat, his brow raising. “You’d look prettier if you listened, sweetheart.”

The condescending nickname rolls through you, your face twisting in disgust at it — he knew you hated it, knew it reminded you of the old men who often tried to make passes at you. It disgusts you enough that you release him from your grip, watching a smile slowly spread on his face.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to sound weak with his fist still around you.

“And I thought I told you to listen, but you don’t seem to be doing a good job of that even after the belt.” He shifts his grip from the front of your neck to the back of it, pulling you closer. “What’s my name?”

You hesitate at how hard his gaze is trained on you. “Sir.”

He nods. “And what did you call me earlier?”

Oh. As the dots connect, realization flickering across your features, Scott’s eyes mirror your understanding. He doesn’t give you a chance to say it, continuing, “Until you can learn to listen, you don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You wait for a day, an end time, something that’ll make counting the days at least a little worthwhile — but it never comes. Instead, he just stares at you, waiting for you to defy him again, waiting for you to open your mouth, to push back. But his fingers twitch like he’s going to reach for his belt again, and the thought of that on your already raw backside makes a whimper escape.

“I understand, sir.”

His gaze softens for a moment — and a small part of you hopes that he changes his mind, that he’ll take it back… But Scott was never that type of man. Once something was final, it was final. No amount of begging or pleading could win your case.

He cups your face in his hands like he knows what he’s asking may push you past your breaking point. Never in the months you’ve been together has he implemented something indefinitely, but you’ve never pushed back this much. When his mouth roams over yours, gentle given the circumstances, you taste the sharp spearmint of his gum as his tongue explores you, soothing your whimpers and whines until you’re somewhat relaxed under his touch.

“Are you going to be a good girl if I let you blow me, honey?” He asks, lips ghosting over your mouth, your jaw, pressing a kiss against the column of your throat. You nod, not trusting your voice. “I mean it. No whining. No pleading. No biting.” His gaze flickers up to yours as a memory passes through both of you, your cheeks heating up, caught. He knew you too fucking well. “If I want you to choke on me, you’re going to choke. If I want you to wrap those pretty lips around my head, you will. And if I want your mouth not on me at all…”

“I’ll listen, sir,” you promise, breathless, squirming with need.

Scott’s eyes flash with approval, pressing one more kiss to your mouth before he settles back down against the leather. You follow, slow, cautious, your hands pressing into his thighs as he grips himself.

And when you wrap your lips around him, everything else fades away. You take him at his pace, slower than you would prefer but dutifully obeying his silent instructions, your hair coiled around his fist. The taste of him on your tongue has your eyes glazing over with desire, flickering up to watch him watch you, your head bobbing around his length, spit sliding down his shaft as he makes you take him deeper, deeper, until he’s hitting the back of your throat and there’s still inches between you.

Scott groans as he pushes you further, trained on how your body instinctively fights him, taking his cock entirely in your mouth when your nose brushes the soft skin of his abdomen. Your core drips with need, soaking your panties, at the guttural sound that escapes him: all masculine and intoxicating. You crave more of it, more of his approval, more of him — but he pulls you off with a pop, a trail of saliva traveling from his swollen head to your mouth, before doing it again and again, each time longer than the last.

“So fucking good,” he pants, pulling you off him again, his eyes blown as you suck on his tip like a lollipop.

Your tongue swirls around his head, wrapping your hands around the rest of him that you don’t swallow, little moans escaping.

And then he’s pressing you back down again, his grip holding you stationary as he thrusts into you like he can’t help himself, every action powerful and erotic as the sound of your throat taking his vigorous pace fills the truck. As he fucks your mouth, you knead your breast in your hand, pinching hard at your nipple when the desire to slip your hand between your thighs nearly overcomes you.

Scott watches it all with a growing arousal, his voice deep as he groans. “Fuck, honey, just like that. Want you to remember this next time you think of talking back,” he says, eyes closing briefly at how good you feel. “So fucking perfect with my cock down your throat. Does that make you hot, honey? Wanna rub that fucking clit while I fuck your face?”

You moan around him in response, something between a yes and a please that sounds more muffled than an actual word. Every time you take him deeper you feel that hot flash of aching desire pulse through you, your blood hot, sure that even through your panties you were dripping all over his leather seats.

The thought has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Scott’s growls turn positively primal as he pulls you off. “Keep making that face and I’m gonna cum right down that pretty throat.” He lifts enough to bring you to your knees, wrapping an arm around you to pull you flush against him as he drags his heavy touch along your naked frame. “You don’t want that, do you, honey? Fuck, I can smell how soaked you are for me.”

He wastes no time as he slips his hand beneath your panties, fingers sliding easily between your slicked folds as he groans. “My dirty girl. You like my filthy fucking mouth, honey, is that it?” Scott pushes a finger inside you, your body arching up into his as you nod, a breathy noise escaping. “Like when I tell you how good you feel? How fucking hard it gets me? How I dream about fucking you every single night when I’m away?”

God, yes. You assumed — but never asked — about what he thought when he couldn’t be near you, but the confirmation that you were on his mind just as much as he was on yours makes you clench around his finger.

“I’m gonna taste you,” Scott promises, his voice ragged. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in the city.”

It’s all the warning you get before he presses you down onto the seat, his mouth capturing yours as he settles atop you. Your body is pliant underneath his, gripping every inch of him, while he trails his mouth along your soft skin. Fuck, you felt like heaven to him — so smooth to his calloused hands.

And you made the prettiest noises when his mouth descended on your nipple, sucking and flicking at the hardened nub before giving equal attention to the other, all too aware of how your hips roll helplessly as he kisses his way down your tummy.

“I love how desperate you get,” he groans, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties, drawing them down your legs. He nudges your legs apart with his nose, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your thigh. Thick fingers spread your folds apart as he takes you in, the touch making you reach for something to hold onto.

“Please,” you whine, running your fingertips along his shoulder, propping yourself up as he sucked a possessive mark into your thigh. Scott just hums, moving to the other, relishing in the sharp intake of breath as he nips at you. “Please make me feel good, sir?”

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks again, blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, his question serious as he nears the apex of your thighs.

You nod, tongue darting out between your lips as his focus momentarily breaks, darting down to watch how his fingers slide effortlessly over you, teasing your clit. “I’ll be good, sir, I swear.” Just as long as he keeps touching you like that, you’ll agree to anything.

Scott hums, playing with you for long enough that you think he’ll tease you into oblivion. But then his tongue darts out. licking a hot stripe up your center, and he groans, and you… You have just enough time to fall back to seat before his mouth is upon you.

The way he claims you with his tongue makes the wait worth it. Scott isn’t shy about feasting on you, his wet fingers slipping to spread your thighs further apart for him, lapping at you like your pussy is a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Every swirl of his tongue, every flick against your clit, every long drag that has you gasping for breath, your mouth falling open while he readjusts his grip to keep you steady.

Scott groans as he collects your desire on his tongue, pulling back enough to revel at how spread open you are for him. He spits, the lewd action making your head spin, before his fingers rub it through your folds, circling your entrance while his other reaches up to knead your breast.

“I wish we had hours for this.” The admission is low in his voice, ragged from claiming you, pressing a kiss to your thigh as you try to still your hips against his torturous fingers. “Just as sweet as I remember, honey. Better. Fuck, you taste so…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, descending upon you again as his mouth attaches to your clit. You cry out at the special attention he gives it, teasing you just right, his tongue swirling and flicking and lips closing around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips move on their own accord, fingers digging into his brown curls as you grind in time with his tongue. Scott gasps as his touch abandons you to stroke himself, the angle uncomfortable in the cramped space of his backseat.

You clamp down on your bottom lip when your orgasm builds faster than you expect it to, hoping to stifle the increase of noise as he brings you closer and closer. Scott just keeps his brutal pace, those dark blue eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“Sir—” Your breath comes out hot when he groans, the vibrations of it nearly toppling you over the edge. You want so desperately to listen, fighting the way he coaxes it quicker, something heady and mischievous sparkling in those eyes, but it’s too much, he’s too much, that invisible rubber band pulling tighter and tighter, your control slipping, the wet sounds of his tongue dragging over your heat too much to bear—

You scream out as Scott pulls away entirely from you, all that tension coiling tight with nowhere to release, and watch helplessly as his expression flickers somewhere between smug and disappointed. You tremble against the loss, little twitches that give away how close you were from disobedience, your whine high and keening.

“Oh, honey, were you close?” Scott coos, his tone full of condescension as he rests his cheek on your thigh, an evil, wicked, vile grin teasing the corners of his mouth. You glare at the dimple in his cheek. “You think I’m dumb enough to not know when you are? That your pussy doesn’t tell me when you’re trying to be quiet? I know all your tells, honey. Every. Single. One.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his palm coming down hard against your open heat. The slap has you spiraling, a cry escaping you as your back arches up off the leather, the pain lingering uncomfortably as your ass grinds against the seat. Scott wastes no time crawling up your body, swallowing all your pitiful noises as you taste yourself on his tongue.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Not tonight, honey.”

Your heart seizes in your chest at the confirmation — having suspected it, but half-hoping that he’d forgive your past sins if you were good enough. Scott just grins, lifting so all his weight isn’t settled atop you, running his hands down the still-twitching frame of your body, pushing his jeans down further as one hand drags along your hip.

“Please?” You beg, taking his face in your hands, blinking big doe eyes up at him. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His confidence in you is unwavering, pausing his movements to give you his undivided attention. One kiss, two, three, to the corner of your mouth, each softer than the last, bringing you down from a high he stole away. “We’ll test those limits properly another time. I have so many ideas…” He trails off with a groan, seeming to think better of listing all the ways he could make you bend to his will. “But you can. And you will.”

A whimper escapes at the finality, but you manage a weak nod. It’s all the encouragement Scott needs to draw your leg around his hip, slotting himself between your parted legs. The weight of him dragging through your slicked folds presses a gasp into his shoulder, your arms sliding around his broad frame.

And then he’s sinking into you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your taut body stretches to accommodate his size.

He’s massive — and delicious and throbbing and every other perfect word in the dictionary as you forget how to breathe, how to think, the more he buries himself inside you. You hear his strangled moan against your neck as your head tosses back, pulling him closer, hissing as he draws back just to press right back into you.

He works you just like that for what feels like hours, pushing and pulling, slow as he presses kisses to your skin, holding your hips steady. You know he’s holding himself back, that he’s letting your body get used to him after so long apart, after little more than a press of his fingers and tongue at your entrance. It makes your heart flutter in your chest — he could have fucked his way ruthlessly through you and you would’ve taken every second of it just the same, but the fact that he pauses to take his time now, to lengthen a moment that he shouldn’t be having in the first place…

God. You loved him.

You both moan as he bottoms out inside you, his hips driving forward just a little further on instinct. “Fucking missed this,” Scott pants, careful as he slides a palm under you, lifting your ass off the seat to thrust inside you again. Your gentle touch trails across his broad shoulders and down his arms, a silent message for him to keep going.

And then he fucks you like he promised.

It’s a combination of everything: the time apart, the time you had left, how neither of you could seem to get close enough to each other. He splits you apart and brings you back together with every snap of his hips, filling you exactly how you need, gasping against each other as you angle up to meet him halfway.

Your mouth presses feverishly to his, the sound of your desperate moans filling the small space against the way your body greedily accepts his. Scott stalls his tempo just enough to pull away, sliding his hands back to your hips to lift you onto him before returning to his brutal pace, the new angle giving you a perfect view of his cock stretching you out.

“Being so good for me,” Scott hums, pleased, his fingers splaying over your belly as he ruts deeper into you. The intensity of it, of him, makes you blink back stars as his heady gaze is trained on yours, grabbing onto him as he continues, “Feels so fucking good, honey, fuck.“

Your eyes slip down to watch as he slides in you, the sight of him hard and coated with your arousal making you moan. Scott grips the back of your neck to keep you there, your body curled up into whatever mold he desires, pressing your knee back to the cushion as he shifts himself closer.

“Dirty fucking girl, you like that?” Scott’s voice turns guttural with how you tighten around him, your pretty moans like music to his ears, “Like watching your little pussy take my cock? Seeing how fucking good I stretch you out?”

You nod, another moan spilling from your mouth, only to whimper when he slides fully out of you. The crude smack of his cock against your clit only makes you hotter, your skin on fire as he plays with you, always in control. “Tell me,” he groans, teasing as he grinds himself against you. “Let me hear you, honey.”

“I love it,” you pant, unable to tear your gaze away from his thick length. You want desperately to reach down and press him where you crave him most, but you resist, fingers curling into fists at his sides as you plead, “Please fill me up, sir, I need it. Need you to fuck me, need you to claim me, need you to make this little pussy all fucking yours, please.”

It’s all Scott needs to press into you again, his pace hard and demanding with your wishes. He slides an arm underneath you to hold you steady, his teeth leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, your collar, pressing moans into your skin with every rough piston of his hips, the sound of skin on skin, and your hard, labored breathing filling the space. And then he’s flipping you over, your hands and knees pressing into the leather as you push back against him, delirious with the new angle as he tugs you up, your back to his chest.

The possessive, strong grip on your waist slides up to knead your breast while he thrusts into you from behind, his lips at your ear, growling every profanity under the sun.

“This what you want, honey?” His hips snap hard into you, the contact against your sensitive ass making your eyes roll back into your head. The mix of the pleasure and the pain he gives you is unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. Scott always finds the perfect balance, his hand sliding between your thighs to tease your clit, your body wanton against him. “Being claimed? Owning you completely?” At your answering moan, he grins. “Could you handle it? Being mine in every way?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying in vain not to swirl your hips and failing, searching for more while he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I’m already yours, sir.”

“Yeah, honey, I feel it.” They come out strangled as you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to every touch. “So sweet right now, aren’t you? Wanna cum so badly, don’t you?” You whimper out as he angles himself deeper inside you, hitting that spongey spot in time with his ministrations. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, as he finds the perfect pace to drive you closer to the edge, dangling just on the precipice of release. “Bet you’d agree to anything right now just to cum, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Head tossing back against his shoulder, you dig your nails into his jeans where you hold him to you, looking at but not seeing the reflection of how he commands you, his mouth drawing along your neck. “Please,” you beg, trembling with the exertion of holding yourself together. “Scott— Sir, please, I’m so close—”

“I know.” Cooed, mockingly, along the column of your throat, he ceases every torturous move as he stills inside of you, his hands quick to press your hips down against his. The sudden lack of attention makes you cry out, chest heaving, as he steals your orgasm away again, the frustration and desire mixing until you’re growling through clenched teeth.

Scott just grins, watching it all with a gleeful expression, that dark look swirling in his eyes as he doesn’t dare move an inch. “You can be as nice as you want, honey,” He presses a patronizing kiss to your shoulder, that alone having you twitching against him, small little sounds that you can’t control escaping as he toys with your fraying edges. “I’m still not letting you cum tonight.”

“But—” You think better against talking back, clamping your mouth shut as you whimper again. “When?”

“When you’ve earned it.” Scott slides his hands over your body, dragging along your peaked nipples, taking both breasts in his large hands and groaning as he touches you. “You want to earn it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp automatically, your hands fisting handfuls of his brown locks as he sucks another possessive mark on you. “Please, sir.”

“How far would you go?” His voice carries that inquisitive tone that speaks of danger, the kind that has your cunt fluttering around him in response. He grunts against you at the sensation, still unmoving, just thick and hard and throbbing in you enough to leave your mind reeling. Your breath stalls when his touch wanders down to press at your belly. “Would you let me cum inside you?”

Every thought in your brain scatters at those words, wanting and needing before you can even voice it. He’s never asked; always pulling out to paint your chest, your back, your face. But the way he asks, his voice quiet yet desperate, the unmistakable edge to it that tells you he’s been thinking about it for a while, waiting for the right time, the right moment — suddenly his insistence on if you’d brought your birth control comes to the front of your mind, and you know. Know he’s been planning this. That if it weren’t here, it would’ve been sometime this weekend.

Scott is patient as he lets it all sink in, studying you, waiting for a shift of an expression, or your body responding against his desires. Something dark awakens in him at your whimper of approval.

“You’d look so fucking pretty like that,” he continues, slowly resuming his pace, much slower now than it was before, as he groans every fantasy he’s dreamt of for the past week into you. “So full of my cum… It wouldn’t all fit, would it, honey? But you’d beg me, wouldn’t you? Beg me to fuck it deeper in your sweet cunt?” Your breath labors as he grunts out, teeth sinking into your skin. “Beg me to put a baby in you?”

Fuck, yes.

You writhe against him with every word out of his mouth, your moans spilling freely as you nod, desperate, agreeable, unaware of how much he wanted it, obsessed about it. How the sight of you in his clothes made him want to put a ring on your finger, how every time you came over to his place he had to fight to ask you to move in, how the idea of your belly swollen with his child made him so horny he couldn’t think about anything else some days, how the thought of you and forever were so intertwined to him now that he couldn’t imagine anyone else to spend the rest of his life with.

All sappy, sentimental things that he didn’t dare voice, locked tight between his teeth, letting only a little spill out.

The need to own you, to claim you, was overwhelming. Scott wanted nothing more than to fuck you hard enough to make your brain flicker off until you couldn’t even speak, until you were completely at his mercy, until every drop of him was spent inside you. Possession and desire bleed into one — just waiting, aching, throbbing, bruisingly so, for your voiced consent.

“I need it,” you finally choke out, trembling, your voice utterly broken. “Please give it to me, sir? Please, please, pretty please?”

Scott moans, long and deep and loud, as he buries his face in the curve of your neck. And then he’s pounding into you, every muscle of his body pulled tight as you wrap around him like velvet perfection, his grip hard and unyielding against your hips as every rough slam of his hips into yours sends your body jolting forward. Your hand slaps to the window in front of you, leaving prints against the foggy glass, and he follows greedily, pressing his weight into you as he spreads your thighs further apart with a growl, fucking you into the seats.

Your orgasm painfully lingers, every needy moan spilling from your mouth only driving him further into you, wild with need, no longer the controlled man you knew but something more animalistic, primal.

“Fucking take it just like that,” he growls, not even sounding human, every word gritted through his teeth as you feel every thick inch of him around your slick walls, his hand slotted between your thighs to part your folds, sinking deeper until there’s no space left. “F-fuck, that’s so fucking— Perfect, honey, fuck— Pussy’s fucking made for me—”

He’s close — you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow uneven as he chases his release, the way he roughly grasps your chin to kiss you, sloppy and more tongue than lips, how his fingers leave Scott-shaped bruises wherever he grips you, his blunt nails biting into your hip, your sides, your breasts as he struggles for purchase. You don’t realize you’re sobbing in pleasure until he wipes your tears away, until he praises how good you’re being taking him like this, groaning when your body responds eagerly to his positivity.

You dance in time with him, meeting him halfway, angling your hips up just right. And you feel, rather than hear, the way Scott moans in ecstasy as he finds that perfect spot in your heat, numb to anything and everything that isn’t his thick cock pounding your weeping, used hole.

You think you cum — or maybe it’s just the last shreds of sanity leaving as Scott reaches his peak, nothing but your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you with his seed, rutting up against you until it’s painful, the warmth of him spreading into you. His heart pounds against you as he slips his hand to your belly, pressing you closer, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as his hips twitch until he’s emptied out, fucking the last drops of his cum into you exactly like he’s dreamt.

And when you come down your orgasm sits uncomfortably high and untouched, a broken sob escaping you as he pulls out with a wet pop.

You feel his cum slide down your swollen cunt and flinch with sensitivity as he’s quick to collect himself on his fingers, fucking it back into you. The tension coils tightly inside of you until you’re sure you’re begging him to stop, the pleasure and pain completely overwhelming, exhausted with the effort of obeying his orders as he presses his digits into your used hole.

When you think just about to break, he stops.

And you know you’re going to kill him as he steals your release for a third time.

“Good girl,” Scott whispers, pressing kisses along your soft skin, his hands soothing every part of your twitching frame. You don’t have the strength to ask for more as he pulls you into his arms after sliding your panties back into place, letting you come down as he finds his peace in caring for you, murmuring sweet nothings while your body is pliant against him.

You nuzzle into him when you feel more in control of yourself, your heart slowing to a more steady pace. His name falls softly from your lips, your arms snaking around him to hold him close, his fingertips soft along the small of your back.

When he presses his mouth to yours, you melt into his embrace, exploring him lazily until he’s pulling away, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. “Mine.” He praises with a smile, that dark expression gone, leaving nothing but bright, shining blues you could drown in for hours. “All fucking mine. I own you.”

“Mmm,” Despite the weary in your bones, you can’t help but smile back, a giggle escaping, “Do you?”

Scott doesn’t need to slip his hand between your legs for you to get the picture, just hooks a finger along the waistband of your ruined panties. “You just let me prove it, honey.” He leans forward to kiss you again, slower this time, before pulling away with a regretful sigh when the distinctive chime of his phone goes off. “Need help getting back in your seat?”

“Already?” You whine.

“Gotta go, honey.” He taps your hip, twice. Non-negotiable. “Come on, before the bears smell you and want you for themselves.”

That has you cracking a grin. “You wouldn’t fight a bear for me?”

“What do you think the murder kit is for?” One last kiss to your mouth. “’Course I would. Just not tonight.”

You pout further, but let him grab your long-forgotten clothes off the floor, making yourself presentable again before he does the same. And when you settle back into the passenger seat as he starts the engine, you let your head rest against the window, bubbly and content and happy. Even if you know it won’t last when he has to leave.

As Scott drives through the familiar city streets, you hate the knot of apprehension that clogs your throat when your mind wanders too far about him being gone. Out on the field, anything could happen, even if it was just one of his routine visits. The people he spoke with — if he approached the wrong one, it would be so easy for them to lash out. Scott was a big man, he could take care of himself, but that didn’t stop your fears from pressing down against you.

His hand is firm on your thigh, thumb stroking soft lines in your skin as he catches your expression. And then his truck takes a turn in the opposite direction of your apartment, heading toward his house.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion as you try to shake off your emotions.

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens just a fraction, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “My place,” he answers simply. “You’ve been up all night, and I’m not about to drop you off and leave you alone like that.”

You frown, the earlier emotions fighting to come back; you glance quickly out the window, cheeks flaming as you’re caught, hating that he’d noticed your weakness. “I’m fine, Scott. I can—”

“No,” he cuts in gently, but firmly. “You need rest. And I’ll rest better knowing you’re somewhere comfortable.” His eyes flick toward you, catching your reflection in the dim light of the street lamps. “Besides,” he adds, his voice lowering to something more intimate, “I’ve got a bed that’s been missing you.”

It’s not a request, and the way he says it makes your heart skip. You know he’s right. As much as you’d wanted to protest, the thought of sleeping alone in your own bed feels wrong, especially with the lingering warmth of his touch still buzzing under your skin.

By the time you pull into his driveway, the familiar sight of his place is almost a comfort in itself. Scott’s fingers brush over your thigh before he parks the truck, a silent reassurance. “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he murmurs, shutting off the engine, “but I want you here. I want you safe.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with a meaning he’s too stubborn to say out loud, but you feel it all the same. He reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nod, unable to find the words, so you just lean into his touch. Scott doesn’t need more than that. He’s out of the truck and rounding it to your side before you can even blink, opening your door and offering his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he says softly, tugging you out and pulling you close against him. His arm slips around your waist as he guides you to the front door, his hold steady and reassuring.

Once inside, the warmth of his home envelops you both, and you feel the tension in your shoulders start to melt away. He’s quick to guide you to his bedroom, knowing the layout of his place better than anyone, but still taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable, handing you one of his shirts to sleep in.

As you slip under the covers, Scott pauses at the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on you. “Get some sleep,” he tells you, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You reach for him, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide in beside you, pulling you against his chest. For a moment, you both just lie there, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothing you into a drowsy haze. Scott presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively over your hip.

“Sleep, honey,” he murmurs, his voice the last thing you hear before sleep claims you.

In the morning, you wake to the sound of his alarm, the room still dark. Scott’s already dressed, but he hasn’t left yet. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a softness in his eyes that he rarely lets show. He reaches out, brushing his fingers through your hair as you try to rustle yourself awake.

“Go back to sleep,” he says quietly, his thumb grazing your cheek. “I’ll be back in a few days. Promise.”

Before you can respond, he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his lips. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you drift back into a peaceful slumber, the last thing you feel is the comforting weight of his hand slipping from yours.

When you finally rise, well rested but achey from the night’s exertions, the sun is high in the afternoon sky and his house is empty, his truck missing from the garage. You wander into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea, pulling the kettle out from underneath his cabinet. And when the steaming mug is in your hands, settling into the breakfast nook that overlooks his backyard, your eyes fall upon his jacket, folded neatly atop all the stuff he’d unpacked while you were sleeping.

And you know he loves you as much as you love him.

#twisters #twisters x reader #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott (twisters)#scott (twisters) x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x you #scott twisters x y/n #scott miller x you #*fic #**#fic: roadtrip.

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lovebugism · 7 months

Note

could I request maybe shy!reader trying to play dnd with eddie but she's suuuuuuper nervous and confused and internally panicking about him not liking her anymore if she can't get into it?? Or if you wanna change it up please do!! love you!!

love you! hope you like it! — you get insecure about not liking d&d when a girl joins hellfire (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort ish, established relationship, 1.4k)

The Hellfire room is void of the boyish bodies that usually fill it. The abandoned classroom, turned freak sanctuary, is now littered with pieces the rogues, clerics, and bards left behind — in half-empty soda cans and crumbled-up bags of potato chips.

While Eddie packs up his binder, filled to the brim with miscellaneous papers, you wander around the long table with a trashcan in hand. The wild-haired boy squints when you chuck Dustin’s crushed Pepsi in the bin. “You don’t have to do that, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie huffs through his nose, feeling too exhausted now to argue. He slides his binder into his bag and watches you rake Gareth’s chip crumbs into the trashcan. The urge to stop you becomes unignorable then.

“Okay, well, you know what? I mind—” the boy retorts, striding the very short distance to you and snatching the bin from your grip. He smiles a crooked grin and continues in a fantastical accent. “—‘Cause the Dungeon Master’s queen shouldn’t have to clean up after a bunch of lowborns, alright?”

You roll your eyes with a subdued giggle. “Someone’s gotta do it, Eds,” you insist as you reach for the plastic container he took. You exhale sharply when he hides it further behind him, pulling it further out of your way. “I wanna be of some use around here!”

Eddie’s face twists. “Don’t say that.”

You cower beneath his stare. “Well… It’s not like I actually play or anything. I just kinda… sit around… And watch you guys do everything…”

“Well, why would you play?” he laughs. “You don’t even like D&D.”

Something in the way he says it makes you ache. You’ve always felt distantly horrible about it — failing to take interest in something he holds so close to his heart. Hearing him reiterate that fact twists the knife lodged in your chest.

“That doesn’t bother you?” you wonder, impossibly shy. “That I don’t play?”

Eddie shrugs and sits the bin down again. “Why would that bother me?” he scoffs.

“I don’t know… ‘Cause you like it. And it’s your favorite thing to do in the whole world.”

“Well… Maybe not my favorite thing,” he croons with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Your nose scrunches in disdain. His laughter fills the empty room as his ringed hands spread warm along your sides. “I just feel bad,” you confess, gaze averted to the scuffed tile beneath your feet. “You know, that I can’t get into or whatever.”

Eddie meets your subtle pout with an unbothered grin. “There’s nothing to feel bad about. People like different things, babe. That’s life,” he assures you, squeezing softly at your sides. “I mean, it’s no different than me hating The Smiths, right? I still let you play their cassettes in the van, and you still sit in on all my campaigns— and that, sweetheart, is the meaning of true love…”

Unswayed, you jerk softly back when he leans down to kiss you. You frown up at him with your arms crossed between your bodies. “But Rory loves D&D. And she’s super pretty…”

Aurora Edwards was the newest edition to the Hellfire gang. She goes by Rory for short, though, ‘cause she’s cool like that and everything. Her dyed blonde hair is as wild as Eddie’s, cut into a makeshift mullet that sits sort of shaggy on her head — intentionally messy in a way only she can pull off.

She likes cool music and cool clothes and cool hobbies — because everything she does seems to have some sort of subverted flair to it. She’s smart and she’s nerdy and she’s beautiful. None of which seem fair. You’ve been stirring with feelings of inadequacy since you met her.

And Eddie doesn’t seem to get any of it. His brows furrow at your words, like none of them have any sort of meaning to him.

“She’s way more your type than I am,” you blurt.

A laugh sputters from his plush mouth. “You think my love for you is contingent on some stupid game?” he chuckles.

The way he says it makes you shrink. You feel sort of stupid about it now. “I don’t know…”

“Well, then, I have done a very shit job of being your boyfriend.”

Your chest stings. “No, you haven’t, Eddie—”

“Mm,” he hums, half playful, as he tilts his pretty head to his shoulder. “I have, though. ‘Cause if you think some other girl liking Dungeons and Dragons is gonna make me love you any less, then I have done something horribly, horribly wrong.”

You bite back a smile at his words, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth until the beam becomes impossible to ignore.

“‘Cause you’re kinda stuck with me, turns out,” the boy continues. “Unfortunately for you.”

“Unfortunately?” you echo with a scoff.

“Yeah. ‘Cause if some other schmuck comes around who likes listening to The Smiths and sitting in the sunshine, he’s gonna have to go through me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in place of a laugh. “I don’t want another guy, Eds…” you confess, going shy all over again.

His nose scrunches as he plays coy. “Even if he doesn’t smoke?” he wonders in a sheepish murmur.

“Even if he doesn’t smoke.”

“Good,” he beams, pulling you into him by your belt loops. His breath fans over your jaw in a minty-nicotine concoction as he ducks his face closer to yours. “‘Cause I don’t want anyone else, either, alright? Even if they are almost as good as me at D&D… Actually, it’s kinda a turn-off, now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Is it?��

“Yeah… ‘Cause, like, I love teaching you about it and everything.”

“Even when I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Especially when you have no idea what I’m talking about,” he laughs, smiling so hard his cheeks speckle pink. “‘Cause you know how much I like it, so… You let me talk all the shit I want.”

“’S just because you’re so pretty when you talk about things you like,” you confess.

His face twists. “Am I?”

“Well, you’re pretty all the time, but…”

“You flatter me,” he huffs and pulls you closer. He smirks and goes quieter when he says, “And flattery goes a long way with me.”

“Does it?” you hum with a sunshine-coated giggle.

Eddie doesn’t answer you with words. He just presses his lips to your mouth and hopes you get the gist. His tongue swipes against yours, soft and sudden, as he guides you towards the table. You run into a rogue chair before he can get you on top of it. It screeches against the linoleum tile.

With his face in your hands, you giggle against his mouth. His denim-clad knee slips between your thighs.

The door squeaks softly open then. Rory enters, swift and unthinking. You and Eddie pull apart — one looking much more horrified than the other — as the blonde girl stands frozen in the doorway. Drowning in her sweatshirt and baggy jeans, she points a lanky finger towards the table.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, voice gritty and deep. “I just left my girlfriend’s jacket here, and she doesn’t know I stole it, so… She’d definitely kill me if I forgot it.”

“That’s okay. Come in,” Eddie shrugs with a tightlipped smile, nodding his head in a silent invitation. When Rory plucks the coat from the back of her chair, he says, “Tell Jess I said hi, yeah?”

The girl scoffs as she heads back towards the door again, leaving just as quickly as she came. “She still hates you, you know that, right?” she laughs. ‘Cause Jess was a cheerleader — pretty and sometimes kind, but dreadfully conservative. Her uptight nature often clashed with Eddie’s much more chaotic one.

“Well, tell her to get in line,” Eddie chuckles.

Before Rory leaves the room, she glances at the two of you over her shoulder. She winks with an eye smudged with black liner. “Have fun, you two,” she croons in a pretty voice before shutting the door behind her.

You stand, still and silent in place, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. Feeling like a total idiot, you refuse to meet Eddie’s gaze. You know he’s got a smug look on his face. You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “See? Not my type at all.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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silvergyus · 11 months

Text

9:26pm

pairing: husband!soobin x wife!reader

summary: all the teachers at your kids' school have a crush on soobin- but you're the lucky wife that he comes home to

warnings: soobin & y/n are parents, breeding kink + creampie, oral (sb receiving), fingering (y/n receiving), use of “baby” for soobin, use of "baby/ my love/ my pretty wife" for y/n

word count: 2,500+

author's note: kinda mushy smut with feelings. directly inspired by how good he looked for the Jakarta soundcheck. this work is 18+

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Soobin picks up the kids from school still dressed from work, his blue- collared polo shirt hugging his narrow frame. He’s all packed into his slim, crisp jeans. All of the teachers standing outside with their classes harbor not-so-secret crushes on him as they wait for parents to take their students home for the day.

These obvious little crushes give you a mischievous pride when walking arm-in-arm with him for parent-teacher conferences, have you preening when you sit beside him to watch your kids’ in the school play. That’s your husband that all the young teachers want, but you’re the one that gets to go home with him.

And go home with him you do.

You say goodnight to both your kids, tucking them safely in bed after brushing their teeth and reading them bedtime stories. You help with one kid, Soobin helps with the other. You make a great team and your kids absolutely adore him. He’s wrapped around their little fingers and he’ll do whatever they ask. Their chubby cheeks and deep dimples are nearly impossible to say no to.

You have to step in when you see Soobin hesitate- your daughter’s big boba eyes begging to stay up just a little bit longer. “Not tonight sleepyhead, you have school again in the morning.” You reply, kissing her forehead before shooting your husband a stern look to not play along with the kids this time.

“Yeah,” he quickly gets the message, “you have to sleep so you can be ready to learn all those big new words for the spelling test.” He leans in to your child’s ear but you can still hear him whisper “but I think you’re gonna ace it anyway.”

With big smiles and lots of kisses, you finally close the door to the kids’ room for the night. They’re little, so it’s still pretty early.

You let out a contented sigh. Finally, your busy day of work and motherhood has given you time to relax, just you and your perfect husband. Soobin had left for work earlier than usual this morning, so you haven’t had him to yourself once yet today, until now.

---- He’s sat on the couch, still in his work clothes but finally relaxing for the night. He’s re-watching an anime on the tv, the volume low so as to not wake up the kids. You finish up your task in the kitchen before coming to join him by the tv.

He glances up at you as you walk in the room, smiling in greeting. You sit on the armchair so you can watch both the tv and him, your eyes darting between the two. You take him in, the long, long lines of his body as he splays out, legs spread enough for you to see the shape of his bulge between them. He isn’t hard, but he’s still big.

You haven’t had alone time with Soobin in a while. Back to school is always such a stressful time as parents and right now all you want is him.

You slip off the chair and begin slowly crawling towards your husband. Soobin looks at you, confusion on his face. The distance isn’t far and you're soon kneeling in front of him. His attention is solely on you, the TV a long-forgotten background noise.

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb gently across your face. “What are you thinking about my love?”

You lean into his touch, the soft caress a familiar comfort. “Missed you.”

He laughs a little at that. “But I haven’t been anywhere.”

“I can still miss you.” You turn into his touch, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “Plus, I really have missed you,” you say, reaching to palm his bulge over his jeans.

He hisses softly at your touch. “I see. I've missed you too baby.”

You hum, feeling content as he moves his hand to play with your hair. You continue playing with him through his jeans, feeling him start to grow hard, tracing the shape of his cock underneath. You press one long, closed mouth kiss to the imprint and you can feel Soobin’s breath hitch.

“Can you stay quiet for me?” You ask, your eyes big and reflecting in the low light. He nods and you unbutton his pants. He lifts his hips a little, easing the process as you tug them low. You want to kiss him so bad but don’t want to move from this position just yet. You have him where you want him so you’ll just have to wait.

After freeing his cock you can’t help but tease him, pressing sweet kisses to his hips, thighs and lower tummy. He does his best to stay quiet, clamping down whines as you continue to avoid touching him where he needs you the most.

When you finally do turn your attention to his cock, it’s half-hard with a pretty bead of precum glinting at the tip. You dart your tongue out to lick it off, earning a quiet moan from your pretty husband. “Shh, shh, stay quiet for me baby,” you remind him.

You hold his cock in your hands, feeling the warmth in your palms as you press another closed-mouth kiss to his shaft and another on the tip before you open your mouth. You look up at him to tease him again, placing the head on your tongue and staring up at him, unmoving.

“Please baby,” he whispers, stroking your hair, “make me feel good.”

You can’t resist when he asks so pretty so you take him into your mouth, licking and sucking at the tip. His hands come up to muffle his moans. He’s never been quiet, especially not when you’re on your knees for him, but he knows if he’s loud you’ll stop, or worse, he’ll wake the kids.

You continue your ministrations, bringing a hand up to pump near the base while your other strokes his thigh. His hand in your hair grips hard, pulling you back for a second before you take him deep in your throat.

Beneath your hand you can feel his muscles clench as he physically holds back his moans. You look up at him as you drag your tongue up his shaft. His head is thrown back, relishing in the feeling of your mouth. You love the way he acts when you suck him off- head empty as he takes it in, pretty noises falling more freely from his lips. It makes you crave him in your mouth, makes you want to have him like this all the time.

You move your hand from where it rests on his thigh, slipping it down to firmly grip his balls, applying an even squeeze while you suckle on the head of his cock.

Soobin’s breath hitches in a strangled gasp. You squeeze him again, taking him further in your mouth as you do. He stifles a moan but it’s still loud. You stop for a second, pulling off of him completely. The two of you pause, listening for any little feet on the carpet upstairs. When the coast is clear- no noise means kids are still in bed, you pull yourself up off the floor.

“I think that’s enough of that, since someone can’t stay quiet,” you tease as you climb into his lap. His hands come to settle on your ass, holding you in place.

“Mmm, but how can I stay quiet when you make me feel so good?” He kisses you finally and it feels like the world has settled. The busy day behind you forgotten as he fills your senses. His lips trail down your throat and you let out a soft sigh as he sucks gently on the skin. You can feel him smile before he hums and asks you if you can stay quiet for him now.

He looks at you as you nod.

The two of you have been together for years, married with two beautiful kids, but no matter how many times you’ve taken his cock, Soobin still needs to prep you. He’s big. You could see him through his jeans, feel his heavy weight in your hands. As much as you want him inside you, you know you need to wait.

You had changed out of your work clothes into your “comfy clothes” as soon as you got home. Clad now in a tank top and shorts, Soobin had much easier access to your body as you did to his. He tugged down the elastic waist of the shorts, giving him room to pull them to the side, away from your already wet pussy. Your breath hitched as his fingers made contact with your folds. Everything about your husband was big, his fingers long as he teased you, tracing lines through your wetness and circling your clit.

“Keep your eyes on me baby, okay?”

He pulled two fingers through your folds before roughly pressing his thumb to your clit. You fell forward, head resting on his shoulder as you bit back a gasp.

He chuckled as you reset yourself. “I said to keep your eyes on me.”

You shook your head at his teasing before leaning in for a kiss. He swallowed your quiet moan when he finally pressed two of his long fingers into you. He pumped them in, letting you adjust to the intrusion before you wiggled your ass and pushed your hips back, asking for more.

It was your turn to stifle your moans as he picked up speed, curling his fingers to press where you wanted most. His fingers were long and you could feel him so deep inside, but still you knew that this wasn't enough, not when his cock was hot on your thigh, beads of precum dripping on your skin. “Soobin, please,” you struggled to keep your voice low, “please give it to me.”

His movements slowed, fingers moving out of you. He held his hand up towards the lamp, watching the way your wetness caught the light. “So wet for me.”

You moaned as you watched him stroke his cock with your wetness. You leaned forward to kiss him again. “Always for you.”

You held your shorts and panties to the side as he lined himself up with your entrance, fat tip pressing against your folds.

You looked into his eyes, warm with love and admiration. You’re sure yours looked the same. After years with Soobin, he was still the only one you wanted, and you still wanted him as badly now as you did on day one. You slowly sunk down on his cock, feeling the stretch even after his fingers, and the two of you moaned together. Voices holding back to keep quiet, but hearts finding the meaning nonetheless.

Once you were impaled on his cock you paused, adjusting to his size. You were full, so full and so completely blissed out.

“Feels good baby?”

“So good.”

Soobin hummed, satisfied. He tugged down the side of your tank top to expose your breast, the cool air causing your nipple to perk up. His thumb grazed the bud as his other hand, still resting on your hip and ass, guided you to move your hips. You began to slowly rock on him, your hands finding his shoulders for balance as he ducked his head to capture your nipple in his mouth.

His tongue was hot as he licked and sucked, leaving a hickey to bloom against the swell of your breast.

He pulled back, saliva dripping from his swollen lips, looking fucked out even as you had just started riding his cock. You moved quicker, bouncing on his lap, feeling him so big and so deep inside of you. This was what you wanted, what you needed even though you hadn’t realized it.

You squeezed around him and Soobin moaned. "Baby, look so good for me, taking my cock so well," he grabbed your breast roughly, "showing off for me." He placed another kiss to your chest.

"Wanted you so bad Soobin," you whisper, your breathing uneven as you ride him.

"Lemme help you baby." He moved his hands under your ass, holding you up. You whined from the lack of movement.

"Shhh, gotta stay quiet." He said smugly before sharply thrusting up into you. Your moan was strangled; you tried your best to keep it quiet but the feeling of him so deep inside was euphoric.

He took over, thrusting up into you from below. You could feel the rough brush of his denim against your thighs where you had pulled it down before. You were sure the skin would be sensitive there after this but right now all you wanted was Soobin's thick cock to fill you up. You wanted to be full of him and his cum, have him surround you inside and out.

His pace was quick and brought you both to the edge of orgasm quickly. Neither of you realized how badly you needed this, how the busy last few weeks had made you crave one another like teenagers.

Soobin's hips pounded into you steadily, his hand groping and squeezing your chest.

“Need you, need you,” you repeated like a mantra as you neared your high.

“You have me,” Soobin whispered, “I’m all yours.”

His thumb found your clit and the circles he rubbed brought you over the edge. Your mouth found his shoulder as you felt your release wash over you, hoping it was enough to muffle your cries. Your body shook from the feeling of him all around you.

“Hmmf, baby,” he struggled as your walls pulsed around him, still fucking into you through your orgasm, “gonna put another baby in you.”

You looked at him again, still dazed and riding out your high. “Please- want it so bad.”

His hips thrust erratically up into you as he reached his high, trying to quiet his moans with his hand. You pulled it away to kiss him.

You pulled away, grabbing his shiny black hair, damp now with sweat, pulling him to look you in the eyes. “Soobin, need you to cum in me.”

His breath was hot against your ear as he snapped his hips against you, “My pretty wife, gonna take all my cum.”

His release came with a sharp thrust as he shot ropes of cum inside you. His hands wrapped around you in a hug, holding you as close as possible as he came inside. Fighting overstimulation, you rocked your hips, helping him through the end of his orgasm. Again and again you felt his hot cum shoot inside you.

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, wrapped around one another in a loving embrace. You didn’t want to move; if you could stay like this forever you would.

You felt his cum drip down, out of you, and you knew it was time to clean up. You stroked his head, “hey baby?”

“Mmm, just a little longer. Love you so much.” He was always sappy after he came.

“I love you too,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “but we don’t want to ruin the couch.” You settled back on your hips, loosening the hug, though his hands still held you, “let’s go to bed my love.”

----

After cleaning yourselves up under the warmth of a shared shower, kisses pressed to lips and soapy hugs shared between you, you fell asleep in the arms of your perfect husband.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #ari writes #txt: soobin

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killergee · 3 months

Text

Wrote this on my phone so sorry if the formatting is wonky. First fanfic since I was a teenager, so pls be kind and enjoy!

Soshiro x reader fanfic where you're cold towards him so he thought you hated him but you actually like him.

Summary: Hoshina thinks you're only out for his position but turns out you might not hate him as much as he thinks.

P1 P2 P3

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"I am grateful and honoured to be recommended for the position of Vice Captain for the second division. However, I wish to be only Captain Ashiro's Vice Captain. Until then, I am happy to remain a platoon leader."

Those were the first words Hoshina heard you say. The first time he met you was at the higher up conference. It was decided that you would be promoted based on your performance in the latest Kaiju attack. But in all honesty, he was barely paying attention as he stood in his position behind Ashiro at the round table. It was one of those monthly meetings that seemed to drag on and on, and he couldn't help but try to stiffle a yawn. It wasn't like he had a say in the decision anyway, so what's the point of listening.

His interest peaked slightly when you walked in. He had seen you around the base a couple of times and had heard your name every once in a while. But his mind was always on training himself, the rookies, and keeping them alive.

He would be lying if he said you weren't a sight for sore eyes. Your gaze was strong, and you held your head high as you presented yourself to the higherups. One of those ice princesses, he guesses, as he shifts his gaze to look at the clock.

Who would've thought you'd be so interesting.

"HAHAHA! It's great to have aspirations," one of the higher ups laughed at your rejection, "too bad Hoshina has already got you beat. You want us to replace Hoshina with you?" A series of giggles erupted around the room.

"Not at all," you said, and Hoshina swears he saw a small smirk break your cold facade. "Hoshina is a fine Vice Captain and one that Captain Mina personally appointed. Simply put, when the time comes and Captain Ashiro needs someone else, I just want to be ready for the call," you replied with what he thinks is a bit of mirth in your eyes. He also could've sworn your gaze shifted to him at the end.

Your statement was strong, ambitious, and slightly threatening even. You've practically announced that you were out for his position and if he is ever deemed unfit, you'll be the one who'll snag it from him.

He swears that was the moment he was hooked on you.

Yet, it seems it wouldn't be easy to see that break in your facade again. Well, at least not easy for him. Somehow it wasn't until this point that he noticed how popular you were. According to everyone else, you were cool, fun, and kind. So why is it that you're always so cold towards him? He's heard your platoon absolutely gush about you to everyone they've met. He's seen you crack an unwilling smile to some of the younger cadets on the training field from a distance. Hell, he's even eaves dropped on you joking with his own squad.

"Hibino-kun, I heard you wanted to stand beside the Captain," you said slyly as you sat infront of Kafka in the study room. You were resting your head on your hand and eyeing at Kafka in a way that makes even Hoshina gulp. Though, probably in a different way from Kafka. Kafka flushed and tried to look at anywhere but you, "y-yeah I'm gonna try my best to do so... I also heard that you, um, were also aiming for Vice Captain?" He scratched his head a bit embarrassed but you only looked even more amused as your gaze sized him up as if evaluating him and his ambitions.

"That's right" you said with a mischievous smile.

"So I guess that makes us enemies for now, haha"

"No. Not necessarily," you sighed crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward as if to tell Kafka a secret. "You know the saying, the enemy of your enemy is your friend. So you and I are friends."

"And who's the enemy?"

"Hoshina, of course."

Well, isn't that something Hoshina thought. At least Kafka was enjoying himself.

"I guess he is," he said shoulders slumping, finally loosening up and laughing.

"Once he's out of the picture then we'll be enemies and I'm warning you, you don't want to be my enemy," Hoshina heard you joke back.

"Is that so?"

"Vice Captain!" Kafka shouted as he stood up to salute him as Hoshina entered the room. You on the other hand, seemed to be taking your sweet time getting up to salute him.

"Sir," you said flatly, all the humour you once had vanishing. Your eyes bored into his as if you were looking at an ant beneath your boot.

Right. Not easy. Definitely not easy at all.

"Do ya really see me that way y/n-kun?" Hoshina said as he walked to stand infront of you. "Why, you're hurting my lil' ol' feelings."

He knew he was standing closer to you than you'd like. With how your cheek slightly twitched, he can't say he wasn't enjoying this.

"I apologize, sir," you mumbled as if it pained you to say. "If it pains you so much why don't you go on leave? Take as much time as you need to recover."

"Oh? And let you take over my position?" He responded with a growing smile that showed off his fang.

"Or Hibino-kun can," you responded bringing back Hibino into the conversation.

"Um!" Hibino squeaked and both you and Hoshino snap your heads to look at him. "I-I uh... Nevermind."

"That's 5 laps for you, Hibino"

"What? Why I didn-"

"You want to do 10?" Hoshina threatened as a sliver of his eyes opens.

"No, sir!" Hibino salutes before hurrying himself out of the situation—scared he'll upset his vice captain even more.

With only the two of you left in the room, your slight step backwards doesn't go unnoticed by Hoshina.

"And how many laps do you want me to run, sir?" You asked in a way that Hoshina knows that if he were to discipline you, you'd pull your rank and find a way to refuse. Or perhaps you'll do it anyways and exaggerate his cruelty as a Vice Captain. So instead, why not take this opportunity to interrogate you?

"None. Just wanna talk"

"But Hibino-"

"Hibino-kun this Hibino-kun that. Do ya like the guy that much?" Hoshina cuts in, irked in a way he doesn't really understand.

"Negative. Just thought you'd be more fair," you responded flippantly, your eyes sharp and questioning.

"And who says you'll go unpunished?" Your eyes widened at that—but just as quickly as it did—your face returned to its calm and collected facade. Enjoying seeing the briefest crack in your composure, Hoshina started to wonder what else makes you tick and what other expressions can you make.

With a smirk he leaned back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. "Say how long have you been in the force?"

The twitch of your eyebrow tells him you're thinking, what does that have to do with being punished. But you still responded, "six years, sir."

"Ahh so a little bit after me. No wonder. I would've remembered a face like yours in my cadet days." He said with a teasing smile. You seem to freeze a bit at his flirtation and it might be wishful thinking but did he see a small blush? Before he could think about it any further you responded, "yes, how very unfortunate we couldn't have entered the force together. Perhaps things could've been different if I had," insinuating something else.

"You're really out for my blood aren't you y/n-kun?" He chuckled lightly.

"Nope. Not really," you said nonchalantly seemingly finding his shoulder more interesting to look at. Hoshina leaned down to cut your line of sight. Face tilted at an angle, he leaned close to your face to force your eyes on him.

"Hmmm this is no good y/n-kun. We're supposed to be comrades, but where's the comraderie? How can we fight kaiju while bickering?"

"We'll survive," you said exasperated.

"Say, ya know what? I think I've thought of the perfect punishment for ya!" Hoshina exclaimed with an almost boyish excitement. He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. "Since ya wanna be Vice Captain so bad, for your punishment ya have to follow me 'round and help me out with my duties."

"Like a servant?" You responded bewildered with his idea.

"Servant, slave, Vice Vice Captain. Call it whatever ya want. This way we can form a better relationship, which, hey, will set a great example for the kids," he joked only to be responded with your incredulous face that couldn't even bother to hide your grimace. "If anything, it'll benefit you too since you get to see what I do," he continued, shrugging slightly. "Maybe you can even find all my weaknesses and make a huge list to use against me to get my position," Hoshina chuckled at the thought.

After a beat of silence, Hoshina was moments away from taking it all back when you said, "okay, send me your schedule." This time, it was Hoshina whose eyes widened. He fully expected you to reject it. Hell, he suggested it in the first place because he wanted to see your reaction and how'd you go about rejecting him. Well, things are about to get fun.

His mouth curled into a grin. "Meet me at my office by 7am tomorrow," Hoshina said as he headed out of the room. "Get some rest, you'll need it."

"Whatever you say, your highness, bowlcut motherfucker," he heard you mumble under your breath as the door clicks close behind him.

Oh yea. This will be fun.

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It's been three weeks since you've been tasked to follow him around. Three weeks of teasing and getting to know each other. Three weeks of little change in your attitude towards him, Hoshina thinks sadly. He thought that he would've been able to win you over with this extra time together. Yet, it seems that he was the only one being won over.

He couldn't stop himself even if he tried. Your quick and witty comebacks. Your cold phrasing and comments that are unintentionally funny (or perhaps they are intentional and it's just your humour?). Your earnest efforts in completing the ridiculous tasks he's assigned you. The glimmer in your eyes and your attempts to stop a smile when you're trying to pretend he isn't funny. He couldn't help but be drawn towards you—basking in the light that you emit, the light you try to hide behind your cold facade.

He wonders if you could tell. If you noticed the glances he threw your way. If you saw how he lit up when you entered the room. If you could see how distracted he became when you sat and worked beside him. Shoulders only a hair's breath apart. So close that he could only smell your sweet perfume and watch your fingers fiddle with the edge of paper. He always had to stop himself from leaning closer until his nose rested in the crook of your neck—until he could breath you in deeper. Oh how he longed to close his hand over yours so that you could hold onto something more stable than paper. How he wished to distract you the way you distracted him.

Hoshina huffs out a sigh as he walks out of the captains meeting with the other divisions. Ashiro couldn't attend so he went in her stead—much to Captain Narumi's displeasure. He did take you with him hoping that after this maybe he could convince you to get ice cream with him or something on the way back home to base. He can already imagine how bored you were waiting for him and how that might higher your chances of saying yes. He remembers you were talking with some other recruit from the 1st division when he left you in the break room.

The sound of your voice makes him halt a couple of steps infront of the break room.

"Eh? No way you think Captain Narumi is cooler than Captain Ashiro," he hears you argue.

"I'm sorry are your eyes broken or something? He's so hot. You can't compare him to her like that. They're two different kinds of hot" the girl he assumes he saw earlier responds passionately.

"Sure I'll concede to that but not to him being cooler." That's not something Hoshina wanted to hear right after his hours long meeting. Leaning back against the wall beside the slightly opened door, he can't help but feel irked. He couldn't believe he's getting jealous of Ashiro.

"Ugh that's just cuz you haven't seen him up close yet, " the other girl responds. "But hey, at least there's one thing we can agree on."

"And what's that?" You ask and Hoshina can tell your interests has been peaked.

"That Vice Captain Hoshina is the worst of the bunch." Hoshina's eyebrow twitches and he has half a mind go in there and make the recruit do 200 push-ups or try to find Narumi and beat him into a pulp. He doesn't because he was more curious about your response.

"I saw you rolling your eyes at him before the meeting. It must be tough working for him," the recruit continues.

You let out a tired laugh, "oh yeah, he's the worst. He's got me running around like a servant!" You say with a sigh and you lean your head onto your crossed arm on top of the table.

"Really! That's crazy. I just can't get over his bowlcut."

"RIGHT! His stupid bowlcut. His stupid fangs. His stupid cocky attitude..." Alright, well. Hoshina couldn't handle anymore of this. He pushed himself off the wall ready to open the door.

"God, I want him so bad." Huh? Hoshina froze in his steps, eyes wide open. Did he mishear you? He must have misheard you.

"HUH?" The recruit repeats a second later. "But you were just calling his hair stup-"

"It is stupid. He should not look that hot with that hair cut," you ramble on seriously as if in a world of your own.

"Stupid little fangs. I hate the way he uses them to nibble on his lips when he concentrates. Why the fuck does he have fangs?! Is he a vampire? God, it's so distracting." Although you're saying all of this like a rant, Hoshina can't help but overheat in his uniform. Covering half his face with his hand he already knows he's red.

"What? Are we looking at the same person?!" The recruit exclaims exasperated with you.

"I think I'm losing my mind," you say running your hand through your hair trying to soothe yourself. "He's so annoying. Always teasing me and sticking so close to me. God I feel like I'm always a second away from tearing at my hair or tearing that stupid compression shirt off. Any tighter and he won't be able to breath. It's like he's doing it on purpose to show off his abs." Hoshina chokes on his own spit.

"You know what? M-maybe it's cuz you haven't gone on a date in a while. Maybe you just need to get laid." The recruit says with a touch of worry—genuinely trying to find any rhyme or reason to your attraction.

"Ughhhh," you say sliding down your chair. "Maybe you're right, I should get laid." There's a pause before you're suddenly sitting back up straight. You lean towards the recruit across the table, "maybe I'll ask Captain Narumi out."

NO "NO!! He's off limits don't you fucking dare!" The recruit screams standing up abruptedly and slamming her hands onto the table.

By the sounds of your maniacal laughter, Hoshina hopes you're only joking.

"Don't worry," you wheeze out, wiping a tear from your eye. "Your precious Captain is all yours." Hoshina hears the humour and mischief in your voice and he can't help but smile too. From the sound of your voice, he knows you're not done teasing the recruit.

"PLUS-" Ah, there she goes " Vice Captain Hoshina is much much MUCH cooler than Captain Snorumi anyways."

The scandalous gasp does well to hide his own snicker.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"That's just the truth, hun. We all know it," you say matter of factly as you lean back into your seat crossing your arms.

"You can't even compare someone who's only a Vice Captain to a Captain! Captain Narumi climbed the r-"

"Oh is being Captain all it takes to be cool? Well Narumi must've been a drag before he became Captain." You argue back defiantly and cheekily, clearly enjoying this.

"Well swords are powerless against a gun! He can't-"

"And yet he was able to be promoted to Vice Captain with his swords while some of us can't even become a platoon leader with their guns." Both the recruit and Hoshina gasp at that and Hoshina decides to interrupt before the situation escalates further. If only he was a little less responsible. He would've loved to see how far you'd go for him. Oh well, he has all the time in the world to corner you about it.

"Yoohoo! The meetings over y/n-kun- Ah, sorry, was I interrupting something?" He says with a grin as both your heads snap towards him scandalized. Well, the recruit appears to be scandalized. You seem to be mortified.

Your jaw dropped open and the red that was flushing your skin from the tip of your ears all the way down to your neck was so pleasing. To think that you yourself would be the downfall of your cool and collected image amuses Hoshina greatly. He can only stare and admire the mess you've become. Too cute. Way too cute for his heart.

"C-captain!" Your voice cracks. Oh, even cuter. "I uh- I, we were- you didn't interrupt anything at all" you say clearing your throat and trying to regain your composure.

"What's got ya all worked up l/n?" He asks with false innocence as he tilts his head, "were you talking about something you shouldn't be?" He teases with a slight lilt in his voice.

"Of course not!" Growing a shade brighter you add "Sir!" to try to save yourself.

"Well alright then, come on let's go, I'm over this place," Hoshina says nodding his head goodbye at the recruit and exiting the room. He hears you whisper shout your own goodbyes before running to catch up with him. You stop and walk slightly behind him and he can't help but revel in your embarassment. He wonders if he should let you off easy or see how far he can push you...

"So you think my hair is stupid?"

He swears he can hear you internally scream.

#hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #gen narumi #kaiju no. 8 #fanfic #kaiju no.8 fanfic #y/n #kafka hibino #mina ashiro

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some-bunniii · 7 months

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My Charming Red Savior [3]

・❥ You finally meet Alastor’s friends, only to then find your tea party rudely interrupted by an angry mob.

x: no use of y/n.

~ 7.9k words

warnings: adult themes

“Um…hi?”

The group of demons scooted a few steps closer to you, anxious to get a better look at the unfamiliar face in front of them. Their expressions were mixed, suspicion, excitement, confusion. Their eyes scanned up and down your figure, and you suddenly felt awfully self-conscious.

You leaned back slightly from the onlookers, as much as Alastor’s hold on you would allow. His arm was snaked around your elbow, locking you in place, which was the only comfort in this very strange little world.

The Hazbin Hotel, just like that Imp and Alastor had described to you earlier in the day. The question is, how did you get here, exactly?

These demons didn’t seem unfriendly, or cruel. They just seemed shocked to see you here, most likely the same feelings you’re experiencing right now.

Did Alastor do that? He must have, but how? Through the ring?

And, what about your money, purse, wallet, and keys? Did that asshole run off with them after you vanished? You held back the urge to sigh, what a day.

“Alastor, mind explaining who this is?” The gray, shorter lady in front asked, arms crossed as she regarded you cautiously with a single eye.

Alastor only grinned mischievously, a small chuckle escaping his lips, before turning his gaze towards you. He tugged you forward gently, and your back straightened as you smiled widely.

“Well, isn’t it obvious with that charming smile? She’s my wife!”

Silence. Utter silence, so silent in fact, you swore you could hear gunshots ringing from a few blocks away.

Your eyebrows shot up, heat creeping on your cheeks as you processed his words. You side-eyed him, a question behind your glance.

Is he serious?

The platinum-blonde-haired woman's mouth dropped open, her eyes glimmering. That gray lady only reeled back slightly, eyeing both you and Alastor with even more suspicion.

“Whaaaaaa..?” The pink spider demon quirked an eyebrow, his gaze darting to a much shorter black-and-white feline man, who shot him a confused expression right back. The tiny Cyclops lady only jumped in place giddily, her hands to her mouth in glee.

It wasn’t until you felt a rumbling beside you, did you turn to find Alastor laughing, his shoulders shaking as he put a hand to his mouth.

The even more shocked faces in the crowd faltered, as they watched Alastor collect himself.

“Ah, to see your faces like this is quite amusing.” Alastor chuckled, taking a claw and lifting it to his eye to wipe a false tear.

“Real funny.” The winged cat grumbled, rolling his eyes. The woman in the red suit seemed to deflate, a frown on her lips. She looked like she was genuinely sad by the news. A similar pang hit your heart, before shaking it off. Right, he wasn’t your husband. It was just an act. You knew this, so why did you feel this way?

You heard Alastor clear his throat, before gesturing to you once more. “This darling belle before you is here because.. she is interested in redemption through the hotel!”

Huh? When in the world did that thought ever cross your mind? Your head snapped to him, and you caught the mischievous glint in his eye as the platinum-blonde lady in front of you beamed, the sparkle in her eyes almost blinding you as she bounced on her toes.

“Really?!” She squealed, before crossing the distance between the two of you. She leaned down slightly, meeting your gaze. “Hello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! Although, I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about it already."

Oh, this must be that daughter of the imp. The one that appeared before you before the store you worked at had opened, the one that told you his daughter owned the Hazbin Hotel. She didn’t look like an imp, though. You shook that thought off for a moment as she conversed with you.

“Not really,” you confessed, “I only know about you through Alastor.”

“Well, I’d be pleased to show you around and give you all the information you need to make a decision.” Charlie reached out her hand, a welcoming gesture. You hesitated before your eyes flicked up to Alastor, a thousand questions in your gaze.

But, what about your things? Why were you suddenly thrust into this situation? When were you going to get an explanation of how exactly you got here?

‘Go along with it, we’ll talk later.’ Alastor’s eyes seemed to speak, behind that charming grin. Just like it did the first time you met him. At least, you hoped that was what he was saying. You were going to talk to him no matter what, anyway.

You slipped your arm from his hold and grasped Charlie’s hand, and she tugged you beside her as she walked towards the group of demons. You felt a bit nervous as you approached them, seeing as their eyes had been on you since the moment you landed in their lobby.

“These two are our residents at the hotel! This is Sir. Pentious.” Charlie gestured to the tall snake demon, his hood covered his face slightly as he smiled bashfully.

“It’sssss a pleassure to meet you, my dear!” He said, clasping his hands together, and you smiled warmly in return. Sir. Pentious seemed like a respectful, modest demon. A rare gem. He reminded you of Alastor but with a flare of innocence to him. Or, at least, less murderous.

Charlie turned slightly towards that taller, fuzzy spider dressed rather scantily. “And, this is Angel Dust. He was our first guest when we originally opened!”

“How ya’ doin’, toots?” He winked at you, that golden tooth catching your eye as it shimmered in the warm lighting. He seemed to exude an air of confidence and charm that attracted attention effortlessly. At least, he was the first person to catch your eye when you materialized in front of them. It might just have been the bright pink fuzz, though.

“This is Husk… Niffty… Vaggie…” Charlie continued, introducing you to the rest of the staff. You stood beside her, patiently waiting for it to be over so you could speak to Alastor. Who was standing a ways behind you, no doubt tracing your figure as you slowly met each member. Finally, when you had finished greetings, Charlie turned to you. “I think it’s time we do a little tour of the hotel, get you familiar with everything!”

Your smile faltered for a moment. Right, you weren’t totally done yet. As much as you wanted to learn more about where you just dropped into, you had a very, very long day. Your plush, weighted covers that were sitting patiently back at home were calling to you. Still, Charlie turned towards the opposite side of the room, before glancing behind and beckoning you to follow. You obliged, keeping pace with her as she began to speak.

She guided you through multiple different locations, the kitchen, the lounge, and the bar. Soon, you were walking down a long hallway, rows of doors facing both sides of you. Were all these rooms vacant? Seemed like the hotel wasn’t very popular, though you weren’t surprised.

It wasn't until you entered a large sub-room, with a very lavish mahogany-wood staircase, that you stopped in your tracks and looked at the large frame hanging above you. Splashes of color filled your vision as you gazed at a large painting on the opposite side of the stairs. It depicted a large glistening, blue lake nestled in a sunny clearing around rows and rows of lush trees. At the edges of the lapping waves, fawns danced with small winged children in fields of sunlit flowers. Some held their hands to their mouths, giggling in joy as they frolicked carefree in the afternoon breeze.

You gawked at the painting for a few more moments, your eyes tracing the perfect lines and forms of each figure. The wings of the angels looked like actual feathers, carefully crafted through paint tools by a skilled hand.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Charlie swooned beside you, gazing up at the portrait. You nodded slowly in response, it was a very beautiful painting. Is that what Heaven looked like? If that was the case, you didn't mind giving redemption a try anymore.

“Who made this?”

“One of our staff here, they are our newest addition to the crew! I’d introduce the two of you, but they’re attending an art show tonight. An auction, I think. I’m sure you two would get along great, though!”

Yes, maybe you’d like that. Charlie continued on her path, as you rounded a corner into another hallway, the lights of the lobby off in the distance. You exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. You could finally speak to Alastor about the questions reeling in your head.

When you entered the lobby, the rest of the crew had dispersed. Angel Dust was lounging at the bar, offering Vaggie a drink who declined it curtly. Husker was growling something to Niffty, who was attempting to stab a bug atop the bar counter.

Alastor hadn’t followed you on that tour, instead, you found him leaning comfortably against the side of a wall. He stood there, a microfiber cloth in one hand and his red-tinted monocle in the other. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth across the small surface, wiping it clean of any imperfections.

It wasn’t until his gaze lifted and met yours, that the cloth vanished from his hand, and he adjusted the monocle back on his face. He straightened, resting slightly against his cane as the two of you approached him.

“So, what do you think?” Charlie pivoted to face you, a large smile on her lips. She looked so hopeful, and you did not want to say anything to hurt her feelings. You glanced at Alastor, who stood a little ways behind Charlie. His eyes were unreadable, that small smile of no help. Great, you were on your own with this one.

“Well, I think the hotel is very pretty.” You responded slowly, choosing your words carefully as you spoke.

“What about staying here?” Charlie leaned in slightly closer, bouncing on her toes as she beamed at you.

“Um, about that, It’s a nice offer and all but…” Charlie’s face dropped, her eyes glistening as she visibly deflated before your eyes. You grimaced, before taking a step closer, apologetically waving your hands. “But, I’m just pretty exhausted right now, so I think a good night's sleep will allow me to give you a better answer.”

Charlie perked at that. Even if it wasn't a ‘yes’ it was still better than your full rejection. She nodded, “That works with me!”

“Wonderful!” A voice buzzed behind Charlie before Alastor appeared next to her. He turned to the apple-cheeked woman, before widening his grin. “It seems like our new friend is rather tired, so I will do the honors and show them to their room.”

Wait, room? As in, here at the hotel? That was not your original plan, but, if it meant you were finally able to speak with the red demon, so be it.

Charlie agreed, before waving farewell to you and joining Vaggie on the couch. You turned to face Alastor, and he offered you his arm. You felt like ignoring it for a moment, and just walking beside him. Some kind of payback for suddenly dumping you here and into the arms of strangers.

After a moment, you sighed in defeat and laced your arm with his. He turned you to a second hallway and began to lead you down the winding corridor. After you were out of earshot, Alastor cleared his throat beside you, before turning his head slightly to face you.

“I’m surprised to see you here so soon, my dear. I knew you’d appear eventually, with how easily trouble seems to find you.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear how I even got here in the first place.” You replied sternly, prodding him for an explanation.

“Why, the ring of course!” He spoke, gesturing to your bare finger. “I embedded it with magic that would take you to safety if you were ever to be manhandled again while I am not present.”

You were silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Alastor put some kind of spell on the ring to protect you? Had that been there since he originally placed it on your finger? Now you were beginning to understand the strange words he said back in the tailoring room when he mentioned the ring being a charm for good luck. Heat began to creep on your cheeks, as you realized how offly sweet that was of him.

“Well, then I suppose I must thank you. If it weren’t for you, I may have gotten more than just my money and bag taken.”

“Ah, so that is what it was. Well, you don’t need to worry any longer, my dear. This hotel is safe from any kind of danger.” He patted your hand assuringly as you walked, “Which is why I only offered the idea back there, as I believe it benefits you more than anyone here.”

Alastor did all this because he cared about your well-being? The ring, the teleportation, living here, the killing. All for you. Even, your “relationship” with him was just that. Your mind went back to when he had laughed in the lobby, like the thought of being with you was that big of a joke to tell all his friends. He could have just not said anything! And yet, he acted so gentle and kind to you, even asking for your permission to kill your boss, just for asking you on a date!

Sure, you’ve only met Alastor like, what, twice? So, you weren’t expecting such a serious step in a relationship to be taken so fast, nor anything similar. But, there was no way Alastor had been doing all this out of the kindness of his heart, he’s the Radio Demon.

There had to be a real reason. He hasn’t even communicated his feelings on the matter, does he expect you to read every thought behind his gaze? You frowned, irritation setting on your face.

“I’m surprised you did all this,” you start, taking a slight step away from Alastor as you slip your arm out of his hold, continuing to keep pace with his footsteps, “seeing as you think what I have experienced this past week is so funny.”

Alastor halted in his tracks, and you were jerked slightly as you were pulled back from the hold on his arm. He turned his head to you, his ears flattened slightly as he searched your gaze. He tapped his claws against his cane, fast and erratic as he observed you.

“Are you referring to what I said when I introduced you?” He questioned slowly, That smile creeping a little higher as he tried to keep up the charm. You crossed your arms, attempting a stern stance as you took another step back.

“Yes, I didn’t exactly expect to be the punchline to your dismissive jokes.”

“My intentions were not to make light of recent events, I can assure you,” Alastor cleared his throat, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips, “I simply wanted to gauge their reaction to such a statement, as I’ve spoken before, one must always be prepared for every situation. And, you must stop referring to them as my ‘friends’, I hardly know them.”

You didn’t have time to process his strange words before Alastor reached an arm out towards you, beckoning for you to take his hand. You only hesitated a second before crumbling, your fingers brushing softly against Alastor’s palm as he lifted your hand towards him. With one digit, he traced up your ring finger, before settling just above your knuckle. You hitched your breath, watching as a string of green light wrapped around your finger. It thickened, before a light green cloud of smoke poured from the light. Leaning down, Alastor lightly blew against your finger, and the smoke dispersed. Your eyes widened when that familiar, golden band began to glint against the hallway lights.

“There, now do you see? My words have been nothing but truthful, my doe.”

His fingers stayed on your hand a little longer, brushing softly against your knuckles, before he withdrew. You pulled your hand closer, twisting your finger until you could see it, that little rose-gold A etched onto the ring’s surface. A warm smile crept onto your lips as you inspected it. You kind of missed the feeling of it snuggled against your skin.

“Well, when you put it like that...” you trailed off, and Alastor grinned widely, accepting your response with a grin as he sidled close to you, motioning to the door in front of him. You turned, your eyes landing on the small 7 etched in gold against the wood. Was this your room?

“Am I staying here?” You questioned, turning to Alastor.

“Preferably, and it is a short distance from my room. Should you ever acquire my assistance, of course.”

“Where is your room?”

Alastor turned, one claw pointed directly across the little hallway towards a replica of your door. Okay.. his room was literally ten feet from you, he wasn’t playing when he said it was a “short” distance. Were you complaining, though?

Suddenly, a yawn overcame you, and your hand lifted to shield your gaping mouth as you sighed softly. God, you were awfully exhausted, mentally and physically. Alastor watched you rub your eyes, before he softened, that smile fading just a tad as his eyes glanced at the clock hung on the wall near your door.

“It seems like it has gotten late, I apologize for keeping you from your beauty sleep.” He bowed his head respectfully to you, withdrawing closer into the shadows. “I do hope you’ll consider the offer of staying at the hotel, better than the neighborhoods crawling with thugs back in the city.”

You nodded, smiling at him as your fingers snaked around the door handle. “I will think about it, don’t worry. I did find some interest in Charlie’s words when we went on that tour.”

“Wonderful. I bid you a good night then, my doe.”

You twisted the handle, backing slowly into the shaded room. You sent a small wave, smiling at him as you shut the door. Your surroundings were drenched in darkness, and you placed your forehead against the cool, wooden frame. You sighed, letting your muscles come loose finally in the quiet of your private domain.

Wow, what a day.

You awoke the next morning, dark circles under your eyes as you groaned sleepily from the rays of morning light hitting your face. The plush white covers slid around you, a large pillow in your hold as you pulled it close to your chest. You snuggled your face deeper into it, intent on falling back into blissful dreams.

Except, nothing came. Your brain just kept prodding you to wake, to rise from the warmth of your makeshift nest and greet the day.

‘To greet Alastor!’ It whispered excitedly, and you stirred again.

What time was it? Waking in a room different from yours always throws off your sleep schedule. Turning your head slightly, you eyed the digital clock on the bedside table. It was seven in the morning, you had slept for almost ten hours. Impressive.

Slowly, you rose from the bed, your arms lifting above your head as you took a big stretch. Yawning, you pivoted, your feet landing on the cold, unfamiliar wood floor.

You sat there for a moment, your eyelids lifting slowly as you let yourself wake naturally.

What was your plan today? It seemed like Alastor insisted on you staying at the hotel, as well as Charlie. But, you had a place of your own. One that you rented, but with all your stuff nonetheless.

You still had a job, but seeing as the Hazbin Hotel provided everything of necessity for free, it wouldn’t hurt to lessen your load and start working part-time. Plus, less Alan. Yay!

Maybe, you’d go home later, collect what you needed and come back. You could even see if Alastor would do his little teleportation trick, it wasn’t so bad being pulled around like that if it cut your travel time to only a few seconds.

It seemed like this was your new room too, which wasn’t so bad. There was a bathroom, a balcony, a dining table, and basic furniture. And, Alastor was right across the hall! You were surprised when he had placed you so close to his own living quarters.

Wasn’t your relationship just a farce, like he had joked in the lobby yesterday night? Maybe, he felt you’d feel more comfortable being near someone familiar.

Maybe, he felt more comfortable having you close to him.

These thoughts spun through your head as you got ready for the day. Your face was soaked with water as you reached for a hand towel on the rack next to the bathroom sink, the soft cotton refreshing as you sank your face into it.

Weirdly, there was a small stack of fresh clothes on top of your dresser. Also weirdly, in your size. Who could have put them there? You examined them anyway, finding them not too far off from your normal style before slipping into the garments.

Opening the curtains, you pushed open the balcony doors. That cool breeze brushed against your ears as you inhaled a deep breath. A smile playing on your lips as you let the warmth of a new day hit your cheeks.

It was nice here, actually. The hotel was far enough away from the streets that the smell of garbage and booze didn’t hit your nose as you inhaled the breeze again. You couldn’t hear the loud profanities or honking cars from all the way up here.

It was amazing. Maybe, staying here was going to be pretty good.

You left the fresh air draft into your room, as you walked to the door. Your fingers caressed the handle for only a moment as you hesitated, before you shook yourself and took a deep breath. The door slowly creaked open, squeaking as it inched backward. Your head slowly peaked out of the door, your eyes scanning down the hall, before eventually landing in front of you.

Alastor’s door. The wood was dark, walnut-brown with golden borders that glinted underneath the wall sconces. There was nothing unusual about it, but it was it being his door that made it stand out against all the identical rooms in this hotel.

Should you knock? Ask him for directions back to the lobby? No, that was going to be weird. You didn’t want him to think you were using him or anything. No matter how much of a gentleman he acted.

Instead, you simply slipped through the threshold and quietly shut the door behind you.

Okay… so you definitely remember your room being on the right side of the hall when you came here last night. Which meant the lobby was somewhere left. Nice, at least we’re getting somewhere.

Turning, you begin your trek down the long hallway. Your eyes would occasionally glance at paintings, or your reflection on wall-length mirrors, as you walked. It wasn’t long before you arrived at a larger sub room, with a few pieces of furniture like benches and side tables. There was a TV in one corner, with stacks of newspapers on a coffee table in front of it.

It seemed to be like a small lounge, and you noted that in your head for later. The problem was, the room then split into three separate hallways. Your shoulders dropped, and your lips curved downward at the sight. Why was this place hellbent on meddling with your biggest weakness?

Crossing the room to one corridor, you peeked around the corner. There was nothing familiar you could pick out from it, no distant noises that gave you an inking of a guess. You gulped, how exactly were you supposed to get back to civilization now?

“There you are, my dear!”

You turned, your back hitting the wall as you watched the red demon stroll towards you. He stopped a few steps away, a pleased look on his face at the sight of you.

“Alastor! I was hoping to catch a familiar face out here.”

“Well, aren’t you glad that face was me?” He beamed, extending his arm out for you to take. Without hesitation, you slid your arm into his hold, locking at the elbows.

“Of course! You are the only familiar face here, honestly. I might have forgotten your friends' names during the night.” You smiled apologetically.

“Don’t worry, they are quite colorful characters, these people. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“They seem to be, although I'm not sure whether they like me yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Alastor smiled, patting your hand assuring. “you exude a warmth and charm that it is impossible not to be drawn to.”

Heat crept into your cheeks, and you averted your gaze to the ground.

“Take those silly fellows that can’t seem to stop bothering you, always courting for your affection, my word, just practically begging for your attention!”

Well, that was a more positive light on what you’ve been through this past week.

“If those are the kind of people that want my attention. Then, maybe I don’t want any of it at all.”

Alastor was silent for a moment as the two of you continued walking, you felt his arm in your hold tense slightly. Was he thinking about something?

“Come now, my dear. There are plenty of individuals who would cherish every moment spent in your company, without resorting to such antics.”

You lifted your head and met his gaze, and he only continued to smile at you. His eyes were genuine, as he looked at you. One might even consider them soft. Is that how Alastor felt when the two of you spent time together?

You hadn’t spoken very much to him, at least on personal matters. But, with how the others in the hotel regarded him, it seemed he didn’t do that ever.

Has he ever told them about his mother or her recipes? Trusted them to fix his clothes, to care for him? Alastor seemed to put distance—figuratively and literally—between him and others.

But, with you? Well, calling a strange woman your wife the first time you laid eyes on her is rather bold and personal for such a man.

You felt flustered at the thought that you were the one Alastor chose for such things. You averted your gaze again, a sheepish smile on your lips.

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“It’s nothing at all. Why don’t you join me for some coffee? There is a patio right at the front of the hotel, it’s my favorite place to spend my mornings.”

He wanted to spend time with you? Well, you weren’t going to argue with that.

“Of course, I'd love to! You’ll just have to lead the way.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

The two of you walked in silence, as you passed through another long hallway. You could hear faint voices in the distance, growing louder at each step.

Was everyone else in the lobby? Would you have to greet them all again?

You saw the large threshold of the front room, and saw the glimpse of the large stained-glass front doors peeking from the corner. Right as you were about to walk through, Alastor nudged you to the side of the hall, and you turned to find a small set of stairs leading up a level.

You tried to memorize the path in your mind, for next time. The voices from the lobby grew more audible now, and you could hear what sounded like Charlie and Sir. Pentious speaking. A conversation about his path to redemption.

Isn’t that what they expected you to do now? Beg to Heaven to let you through the pearly gates because you repented for your sins? You doubted whether that was even possible.

As you neared the staircase, you turned your head to the lobby before looking back to Alastor. Were they just going to ignore the rest of the residents? You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Are we not going to say hello to your friends?”

“Why bother? They have their routines, we have ours.”

You didn’t say anything to that, instead, just let him glide the two of you up the stairs towards a pair of glass doors. You could see the light-red hues of morning peeking from the drawn shades.

Carefully, Alastor twisted the handle and pulled open the doors, that cool breeze hitting your face as soon as you stepped through the doorway.

“Well, here we are.” He spoke, slowly unlacing his arm from yours.

In front of you, was a small tea table and a single chair staring out at the city. A few flowers decorated along the short, metal railing in porcelain pots. Their colorful blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, as you stepped up to the table.

“Do forgive me, my dear. I seem to have forgotten a seat, I'm not used to company up here.”

With a quick snap of his fingers, a second, identical chair materialized across the table. A small radio emerged from a small pool of green fog as it dispersed on a post at one edge of the railing. It played a soft, jazzy melody as you crossed the small balcony, before positioning yourself in front of the seat to sit.

“Please, allow me.” Alastor appeared beside you, one hand on the chair’s back as he pulled it out from the table.

“Why, aren’t you just a gentleman?” You teased, before lowering yourself onto the small cushion velcroed to the chair’s seat. You felt Alastor push you closer to the table, before he lowered himself slightly to meet your gaze.

“Now, what would you like to drink? Tea, coffee, orange juice? Anything you desire, my dear.” He spoke, smiling as his nails clicked rhythmically against the table.

You told him, and with another snap of his fingers, two pieces of glassware settled upon the table. A pitcher materialized in his hand, before Alastor lowered it to your cup and began pouring the contents.

It swirled around your glass, and you watched it settle as he poured it to the brim. Your eyes trailed his hands as the pitcher melded into a coffee pot, and you watched the dark, steaming liquid land into his glass.

He didn’t add any cream or sugar, and you watched in surprise as he settled into his seat without any modifications to his drink.

“You drink your coffee black?” You asked curiously, an eyebrow quirked as you tilted your head at him.

“Mm, yes. I find that it helps sharpen the senses, and heightens one’s awareness. In a place like this, one must always have control of their surroundings. Don’t you think so?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink as you listened. He was right, in a way, about needing to be prepared for anything in Hell. But, why continue to punish yourself by taking away the few good things you could have in such a depressing realm? Maybe, Alastor didn’t think there was any good in Hell.

Watching Alastor lift the coffee to his lips, you noticed the way his entire face softened as the bitter flavor hit his tongue. His smile was so very faint now, almost a firm line, but it seemed.. peaceful. His eyes were slightly lidded, in an expression of contentedness as the breeze tickled at the fur on his ears. The music was peaceful white noise as you sat there, hand underneath your chin, gazing at Alastor as he looked out at the city, a small smile on his lips. Oh, how you so enjoyed his lipped smiles.

It was like that for a few more quiet moments, as the sky continued to lighten until Alastor turned his eyes to you. You squirmed underneath his gaze, realizing you were caught mid-ogle by him. He regarded you curiously for a few moments.

“Find anything of interest in your observation?” Alastor asked slyly, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Your ears are very fluffy” You blurted, before slapping a hand to your mouth. Alastor’s eyes widened slightly at your brazen response.

“Pardon?” He asked after a moment, the static in his tone thicker, hoarser, as the words left his lips. As if he couldn’t comprehend that was what you had landed on. Did no one ever compliment his ears? Correction, did no one ever genuinely compliment him other than to save their skin or to praise his power?

“Your ears, when the wind blows on them they puff out a little from the cold,” you practically whispered through your fingers, “I imagine if someone were to squeeze them, they'd feel so soft too, like squishing a plush teddy bear.”

You buried your face farther into your hands as those words left your lips, heat creeping onto your cheeks. Why were you thinking about touching his head? What happened to not taking too bold of steps? You did not need to overindulge him on what you thought of his ears. Jesus, you were embarrassing.

Peeking through your fingers, you saw Alastor averting his gaze, taking a sudden interest in some flowers near his chair. His ears were flattened slightly, as he adjusted the collar of his suit feverishly. His smile wavered slightly, flickering to a nervous expression. Was Alastor flustered by your comment?

“What an–ahem–unique perspective. My, you are such a charm, my dear, you truly have a way with words. Thank you for the compliment.”

There was silence again, as the tune from the radio seemed to grow slightly louder, drowning out your beating heart. You grabbed your drink, throwing your head back and downing the rest of it in one gulp. If only it was alcohol instead, so you could at least have an excuse for your comments. It was Alastor who spoke up again next, and you were relieved to be changing the topic.

“Tell me, now that you’ve gotten a little more familiar with it, what do you think of the hotel?”

“I think it’s… cute,” you answered softly, your finger circling the lip of your glass as you thought of more to say, “Charlie has a very large dream, and she seems to be the best one suited for the job with the influence she has. But, her residents…? Well, I wonder whether they have it in them to change, especially that–ah, what was his name–guy, Angel Dust? I could see Sir. Pentious being redeemed though. I’m sure he’d do good in Heaven.”

A small chuckle reverberated from Alastor’s throat as he closed his eyes, an amusing smile on his lips. You closed your mouth quickly, leaning back slightly. What was so funny about what you said?

“What?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow again as you crossed your arms.

Alastor cleared his throat, before meeting your eyes again. “Nothing, I just find the concept of a second chance awfully.. silly, you could say.”

“You don’t believe in sinners being able to go to Heaven?”

“Goodness, not at all.”

“But.. you’re helping run the hotel trying to do just that?”

“Well, yes, but it is just simple charity work. I had heard about this place on that noisy little picture box months ago, and how much the demons on the street laughed at it.” Alastor took another large sip of his coffee, adjusting his monocle slightly as he set the cup back down. “That is the problem, my dear. Every sinner in this city has had their chance at going to Heaven, back on earth. They lost it, and now, they’ll only laugh at the concept of such a thing.”

“What was life like for you?”

“Life?” Alastor raised his eyebrows at you, his claws halting mid-tap against the table's surface. His ears swiveled slightly to face you, his gaze curious.

You grimaced, you hadn’t meant to ask that out loud. Should you brush it off? Just because he told you about his mother and his radio show, doesn’t mean he was going to fill you in on his entire past. But, you were so curious! What kind of man did your false husband wake up to be every morning? What did he experience that gave him such pessimistic, ultra-realistic views?

“On Earth,” you clarified, straightening in your seat as you fidgeted with the glass in front of you, “What was it like?”

“Ah, you want to know more about the greatest era in mankind’s history? I’d love to indulge you on such a topic! You know, the first radio station was started in the 1920’s, and of course that only was the beginning of such a wonderful medium. I believe it was called KDKA, I remember exactly where I was standing when the first broadcast hit the radio, I believe it was about th–”

“No, I mean, what did you do on Earth, Alastor?” You interrupted, prodding him for a real answer. You weren’t looking for a history lesson, you wanted to know more about him.

“Me?” He sputtered, caught off guard by your question once more.

“What was your favorite thing to do when you were a child?”

Alastor looked like he wasn’t going to respond, for a moment. His eyes were squinting at you, reading your expression. Did he think you had some kind of ulterior motive? That you were going to take any information and sell it to the highest bidder against him? Your expression was genuine, however, and he only sighed. His brows furrowed in thought, as he recalled distant memories.

“Sometimes, my mother would send me to town for baking ingredients, and every time I'd choose the longest route, which was Frenchmen Street. New Orleans is famous for many things, art, food, but most importantly, music.”

“Music?”

“Indeed! Music is the heartbeat of New Orleans,” Alastor continued, a wistful smile playing on his lips as he delved into memories of his childhood. "I remember those days vividly, wandering that long, vibrant street, soaking in the melodies that filled the air. Jazz, blues, the soulful rhythms that seemed to draw in huge crowds like moths to a flame."

He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "And then there were the nights when the city truly came alive. My mother would take me to smoky jazz clubs, where the air hummed with energy and every note seemed to carry a story. I was captivated by the raw emotion of the musicians, their ability to weave tales with nothing but their instruments and their voices."

A flicker of nostalgia danced in his eyes as he recalled the details, those hidden, buried emotions rising out of him slowly. “I realized then how powerful such mediums truly were, they had the magical ability to perpetuate emotions, feed the crowds, and fuel the thoughts. Music is just another form of art, of course. I’m sure you saw our dear artist’s paintings, and I’m sure they stirred something in you, hm?”

You nodded slowly, leaning forward in your seat, enraptured in his words as they spilled from his tongue. Gosh, his voice was just so nice to listen to. That radio overlay that dripped from his tone was like white noise that tickled your brain with pleasure. You thought his laughs were cute, the way they crackled softly with static.

“I’m sure you would have been happy standing there for hours just to marvel at its beauty. Music can do the same, and when you’re a famous radio host like me,” Alastor gestured to himself, a prideful smirk on his lips, “You need that form of hypnosis to get all the listeners to tune in to the next broadcast, and to keep their interest. Without that power, I wouldn’t be as well known as I am now.”

You were sure he would still be well known for more than his radio broadcasts, with the reputation Alastor had with his… violent tendencies.

“There,” Alastor sighed, like a heavy weight was lifted off of his chest, “are you pleased with my response, my dear?”

“I think I am sated for now.” You responded with a smile, batting your eyelashes as you leaned back into your chair.

“Good, now, I believe it is my turn to ask you a question.” Alastor straightened, his claw clicking softly against the table in sync with the music buzzing in the background. You raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly in anticipation as he leaned slightly across the table.

“Have you decided on whether you are going to reside at the hotel and try redemption?”

You tensed, smiling wider as your mind raced. Sweat beaded on your eyebrow as Alastor looked at you expectantly. What was your decision? Sure, you’d get free room and board, it was no doubt safer than your home, and maybe, just maybe, redemption could actually work. But, was it enough to flip your whole life upset down, over what, a demon man who helped you out a couple of times?

“Alastor, I–”

Your voice was drowned out by a powerful explosion that rocked the patio, the radio fell from the railing and disappeared from sight, as the music faded with it. Your ears rang from the small blast, which had barely missed the wall of the hotel. Alastor’s head snapped to the source of violence, eyes narrowing as the figures of burly demons grew more visible as they approached. There were about four of them, who each held pistols, and a few rolled a grenade between their fingers.

“Angel Dust!! Come out here, you filthy skank!” One snarled from the group, fist raised towards the hotel.

“Ah shit!” You could hear the faint voice of the spider demon coming from the lobby, it sounded frantic as a head poked out from the large entrance doors.

“What did you do?!” You heard Vaggie growl, as another explosion rocked the side of the hotel.

“I sold em’ fake drugs! They thought they were buying coke, but I only gave em’ baking powder!”

“Angel, you idiot!” Vaggie snarled in response.

You shrunk back in your chair, your heart beating erratically and you watched a few more men gather on the hill. What was going to happen? Why did this always happen to you?

Alastor sighed exasperatedly, rising from his seat as he straightened his bowtie. He turned towards you, walking to your place across the table. Your hands were still resting on its surface when Alastor reached down and gently grasped them, before lifting them to your face. He laid your palms against your eyelids, adjusting your fingers to where only darkness greeted your vision.

“Just keep still just like this for now, my dear. I will be back in only a moment!” He replied chipperly, before you felt footsteps fade away from earshot. The silence didn't last very long, before your thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of screaming and strangled gasps. You felt the ground rumbling slightly under your feet, and you only shrunk deeper into your chair.

The screaming wasn't anyone familiar though, instead, it sounded like it was those drug dealers

“Yeah! Kick their ass, Alastor!” Angel Dust cheered from your left, and you perked.

Your fingers splayed slightly, as you picked between the gaps. Your vision was greeted with large, dark green tentacles that snaked in the air. They weaved around small figures who were scrambling across the clearing in a desperate attempt to survive. Some wrapped around the flailing demons, before pitching them far in the distance. Their screams faded as they disappeared from view.

You couldn’t see Alastor, but you assumed he was out of harm's way since the tentacles were doing a good job corralling the thugs. There were a few stragglers that managed to dodge his attacks, though. That became very obvious when a clawed hand reached over the railing, and you screamed as a dark gray, shark-faced man rose into sight.

He growled at you, as he landed with a thump on the old, cracked tile. A large knife was pulled from a sheath around his waist, and he twisted it between his fingers as he stalked up to you. You pressed yourself as deep into your chair as possible, your body frozen in terror.

“₩ⱧɆⱤɆ ĐØ ɎØɄ ₮Ⱨł₦₭ ɎØɄⱤɆ ₲Øł₦₲?” You heard a snarl of static from the ground, before a tentacle wrapped roughly around the shark demon’s body. His face morphed into a look of terror, right before he was flung away from the patio and beat into the ground by the large mass.

The gang of thugs were almost finished, as you finally exhaled a shaky breath. Your heart felt like it was about to burst, and your eyes darted around the area for any danger.

You shot up from the chair, scrambling to the doorway for safety. You stumbled off balance as the ground rumbled underneath your feet once more, your knees hitting the tile.

Growling in pain, you twisted your head to get a look at what had happened. Your eyes darted across them before you saw the small, cylindrical object fly towards you and land against the railing of the patio.

It erupted into a small ball of flame, before it burst into a large cloud of dark gray smoke, shaking the floor beneath you more violently as shrapnel flew. You tried to scramble away, as the large table was thrown to its side, and began to skid across the tiles towards you.

Your body couldn’t react fast enough to dodge the incoming object, instead, all you could do was throw your arms up and curl closer to yourself, screaming. Praying for mercy from the oncoming blow.

Except… nothing happened. The chaos still ensued around you, and the screams of terror and maniacal laughter still rang in your ears. You felt no pain, yet could still feel the breeze whipping against your arms as you held them up defensively. What just happened? You’re not like, double-dead, are you?

Slowly, you lowered your arms, planting them beneath you to help lift yourself from the ground. As you rose to your feet, your eyelids fluttered open.

The table was split in half, lying burnt on both sides of the patio. A slight trail of smoke wafted from their remains, and your eyes traveled across the tiled floor to what had caused the destruction.

Your eyes landed on an unfamiliar figure, their white overcoat swaying slightly in the wind as they regarded you. That platinum-blonde hair glinted in the morning light beneath the rim of his hat, and your eyes rested on those awfully familiar red cheek spots that stuck out from his pale face.

Your mouth dropped open, eyes widening, as the name of this strange man dawned on you. The image of the fallen angel, the most powerful man in the realm, stood before you.

Lucifer, the King of Hell, was leaning against the partially-destroyed railing. His arms crossed as he regarded your slightly battered form curiously.

“Did I miss anything?” The apple-cheeked man teased, sending you a charming grin. His demeanor was calm, and playful, despite the chaotic scene around him.

Would it be taken as disrespectful if you fainted right about now?

man i rlly dug myself into a hole with these titles huh x) i’ll think of something guys don’t worry. but can i just say how much i love throwing the reader into all this chaos, fun fun!

lmk what you think :)

taglist 🏷️

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites @lunaramune @enigmatic-blues @thytorturedpoet @vanhelsingsbigtoe @mixplara @blue122 @zardward @loser-bby @sirens-and-moonflowers @diaouranask @luzzbuzz @theredviolets @the-attention-whore @rayanicaraynbow @girl-nahh-two @moonmark98 @asianfrustration13 @fairyv-ice @missam @beezgobuzzbuzz @valentique @dory-98 @mo-0-o @willow404 @laundrybear @karolinda007-blog @nightreverie

(it only lets me mention 50 of you?! im so sorry to the rest of y’all 😭😭 i’ll reblog it with more tags sksksjjsjsj)

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader

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musaslullaby · 1 month

Text

Stupid joke

George Russell x fem reader

Summary: Mercedes and George want to play a prank on George's Italian girlfriend.

Warning: just fluff

Masterlist

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"Well, umm… Mercedes wants me dead today. You’ve just witnessed my last race," said George Russell, extremely serious, as he spoke to the small camera wedged between the books in the living room cabinet.

In the distance, a familiar laugh echoed. "Mate, don’t be so serious!" exclaimed Lewis Hamilton, in that light-hearted tone that only a teammate and friend could get away with.

"You ruined my moment," George replied with a mischievous smile, looking off-camera toward Lewis, who continued to chuckle. After one last laugh, George refocused on the camera, the smile slowly fading, replaced by a mock expression of worry.

"They forced me," said George, pointing an accusing finger at Lewis and a Mercedes technician, "to play a prank on my girlfriend, and it’s going to end very badly," he added, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"Now you’re exaggerating," Lewis responded, still laughing, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "And you don’t know her well enough," George quickly retorted, giving Lewis a serious look.

"You're probably wondering what they’re making me do. For those who don’t know, my girlfriend is Italian, and these fantastic colleagues of mine," George continued, throwing an ironic smile at his friends.

"Thanks for the compliment," said one of the technicians, passing behind George.

"No problem. Anyway, I have to ruin her beloved food," George confessed in one breath, letting out a nervous giggle as he felt the anxiety about Yn's reaction growing.

After setting up all the hidden cameras around the house, the Mercedes team, along with Lewis—who had come only to enjoy his teammate’s nervousness—left, leaving George alone with his plan.

A few hours later, Yn returned home from work, tired but happy to see George. "Hi, amore" she said, hugging him affectionately as he was pulling the food out of the shopping bags.

"Guess what? We’re having Italian tonight," George announced with a smile, holding her close, trying to mask the nervousness that was gnawing at him.

They sat together on the couch, plates of warm carbonara in hand. Yn looked at him with affection and a hint of suspicion. "Are you sure you’re not trying to poison me?" she asked, laughing playfully.

"I promise, I didn’t even touch it," George replied with a playful smile, trying to hide the excitement for what he was about to do.

After a few bites of pasta, George furrowed his brow, pretending to be puzzled. "Something’s missing," he said, as if deeply reflecting.

"Yeah, maybe a bit of salt," Yn replied, focused on the carbonara, not paying attention as George got up to go to the kitchen.

When George returned with a bottle in hand, Yn’s eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t immediately recognize what was inside, but as soon as he started squeezing the contents onto the pasta, her heart skipped a beat.

"Wait, che cazzo stai facendo?" she yelled, snatching the ketchup out of his hands with an incredulous expression. "Are you crazy?"

"Come on, it’s not that bad," George replied, trying to downplay it, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. "You’re just overreacting."

"I swear, if you eat that, I’ll leave you," Yn threatened, her tone serious and loaded with a mix of anger and frustration.

But George, with a provocative smile, shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, chewing with satisfaction. "Oh my God," Yn exclaimed, nervously standing up from the couch, incredulous. "You didn’t actually do that."

"It’s good. Want some?" George asked, lifting the fork towards her, his smile growing wider.

Yn stared at him, anger boiling inside her, but instead of responding, she grabbed the bottle of ketchup and sprayed the entire contents all over him.

George stood still for a moment, feeling the ketchup trickling down his face and soaking into his shirt. The cold impact of the sauce made him shiver, but what struck him the most was the expression in Yn’s eyes: a mix of disbelief, disappointment, and anger on the verge of exploding.

Raising his hands in surrender, George tried to calm her down. "Okay, okay, I was just joking!" he said, slowly approaching her.

Yn looked at him, confused, furrowing her brows as she tried to understand what was happening. George wrapped her in a tight hug, despite the sticky sauce.

"No, George!" Yn whimpered, feeling the ketchup transferring onto her clothes, but he burst out laughing. With a gesture of his hand, he pointed to the hidden camera.

Yn looked at it for a moment, and then, realizing everything, she burst into laughter. "You and the Mercedes guys are such jerks," she said, guessing that the Formula 1 team had a hand in the prank.

"So, do you forgive me?" George asked, making puppy eyes as he picked up the small camera, hoping for a happy ending.

"Yes," Yn replied with a smile. George, equally relieved, kissed her on the cheek, but she quickly added, with a more serious tone, "But my revenge is coming."

"Oh no," George murmured, pretending to be scared as he looked at the camera, knowing full well that with Yn, revenge could be sweet… or very spicy.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #fanfiiction #formula one #formula one imagine #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell #gr63 #gr63 x reader

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bellatrixscurls · 5 months

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Dustin with a… hammer? | an Eddie Munson Series

pairing : henderson!reader x eddie munson. summary : eddie is your longtime crush. so what happens when you get him all alone, one wednesday afternoon? warnings : eventual smut, friends to lovers, dustin freaking out, kissing, pet names. a/n : this will be a series. please lmk if you like it!

You heard a loud bang, and seconds later your door was slammed open, revealing an unkempt Dustin with a… hammer? in his hands.

“Y/n/n! You have to help me!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, yet you remained unimpressed and it was driving him nuts. “Get up!”

You squinted at him, eyeing the hammer in his hand. And then his face again. “What are you doing with that, you wombat? Put that down” you rolled your eyes and looked back down at your book.

Yet you could hear his breathing, well, it wasn’t something unusual. But he was getting agitated and you could feel it in the air. “It’s Eddie” spluttered Dustin, and your ears immediately perked up. “W-Well, actually it’s Vecna. But I am way more concerned about Eddie.”

“What’s up with Eddie?” You asked, looking back at him as you walked down the stairs, your brother following right behind. Your book was already long forgotten, and any plans you had had before Dustin mentioned Eddie.

You liked the boy. He was sweet, pretty, and he always gave you free weed, blushing like crazy when you kissed his cheek as a thank you.

“I am supposed to meet him here in a few minutes, but Steve called and said that he needs me because Vecna is back and he wants Max and obviously-” he rushed out, but when you gave him a weird look he paused, clutching at his chest. “I need you to distract him until I get back from Steve’s.”

Your eyes were shining. And if Dustin saw, he didn’t say anything. He accepted the urgent nod you gave him, and left, but not before hugging you and yelling “He should be here soon.”

This should be good.

♡

You made sure to do it all. You took a shower first, using your favourite sprays and creams. You put on perfume, cleaned the living room, put on cute clothes. Well, not too cute, you didn’t want him to realise what you were doing. At least not at first.

It was perfect. You had waited for some alone time with Eddie since forever, and Dustin gave it to you on a silver plate, albeit unknowingly.

You jumped a bit at the knock on your door, adrenaline rushing through your veins. “Henderson, you better be ready! I even came a few minutes late so you could-… Oh, hello. You don’t look like you’re into D&D” he smiled that charming smile of his, and you took a moment to admire him. He was wearing a black shirt, black jeans and black boots. His usual clothes, but now he seemed to look even better in them.

You smiled back, opening the door so he could come inside. “I could be” you mumbled and he heard it. Of course he did. His eyes met yours, a mischievous glint in them as he kept eye contact, making his way into your living room.

“So” Eddie rubbed his hands together, falling back down on the comfortable couch. “Where’s Dusty Bun?”

You laughed out loud, sitting down next to Eddie, keeping a fair distance at first. “I see you met mother” he hummed and looked at you expectantly, to which you responded with a shrug and a small “What?”

You tried your best puppy eyes on him, hands toying with the hem of your bycicle shorts. Eddie bit back a smirk, shaking his head “He isn’t here, is he? Little fucker.”

“Actually, he told me to take care of you!” You rushed out when you noticed Eddie beginning to get up, and he looked back at you, wide-eyed. “No! I mean, he told me to stay with you until he gets back.”

Eddie exhaled loudly, ring clad fingers covering his face. “He said what?”

You were taken aback. Was he annoyed?

“Yeah, I’m sorry” you mumbled, mood already ruined. You didn’t know what to do, so you just kept fiddling with your fingers.

Eddie raised his head, looking at you through the space between his fingers. He fucked up big time. His eyes softened and one of his hands found your thigh, squeezing gently. “No, sweetheart. I just- God, he’s cancelled on me too many times now. The campaign is in two days, for fuck’s sake.”

You hummed, hand covering his, still on your thigh. His eyes met yours and he was looking at you carefully, feeling his whole body tense at your touch. “I could try to help you. I mean, I know a few things about D&D. Dustin won’t stop talking about it.”

Eddie’s heart swelled in his chest at your offer. If there was anything he liked more than a pretty girl, was one who actually showed interest in the things he liked. Especially D&D.

“Buckle up, dollface.”

♡

“God, Eddie” you sighed, finally finishing your 3 hour session of helping Eddie with his campaign. He was really passionate about it, and you loved hearing him talk, occasionally asking you for your opinion, which made you feel included and content. “This is harder than it looks. Now I understand why Dustin freaks out so much about every game.”

Eddie chuckles, running a hand through his curly hair and messing it up a little more. “What can I say, sweetheart? It’s not for the weak.”

“What are you implying, Munson?” You snort, swatting his shoulder as he laughed even louder.

Even his laugh was something to die for.

Eddie tipped his head back, leaning on the couch. “I’m joking, Y/n. You have helped me a lot, Henderson must thank you for not getting in trouble with me.”

He put on a serious face, big eyes looking at you as seriously as he could. But it didn’t last long as you both burst out laughing. He was so unserious.

“I’m joking, obviously” he rolled his eyes, still laughing a little bit. “I have some weed in my bag by the way… That’s not a joke” he grabbed his bag from the floor, searching through it.

You put your hand over his, stopping him. “I have some in my room. Come” you took a hold of his hand, dragging him up the stairs and straight to your room.

You left Eddie to sit on your bed as you searched through your makeup drawer, taking a big amount of weed from there.

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw how much it was in there. “Woah, I don’t have that much weed at home… Where did you- how do you have that?”

Looking down at the floor timidly, you responded. “S all the weed you have ever given me.”

His eyebrows shot up, a confused look on his face. He understood, I mean, he saw the weed, but he didn’t understand… the other parts. “Why did you keep all of that? Sweetheart, that’s gold. How come you have never tried that?”

Sighing, you sat on the bed as well, legs crossed. “I don’t exactly smoke, Eddie” you explain to him, hoping that his questions would stop there. They didn’t.

“Well, what the hell do you use weed for? Wait- you snort it? That’s so fucking cool-”

“Eddie, I don’t know how to!” You raised your voice, and his words are cut short, a flabbergasted look all over his face. “Anytime you’d offered me weed, I couldn’t just say no to you. I wanted you to think I am cool.”

He said nothing and you felt even worse now. You’d just, albeit indirectly, admitted you had something for the boy, and he had no reaction. “I just wanted us to have things in common and-”

Warm. He smashed his lips against your own, and they were so soft and warm. He couldn’t hold back anymore as his once gentle hands found your hips, gripping them and bringing you to sit on his lap.

When Eddie pulled away for a moment to catch your breath, he leaned his forehead against yours, your hands still holding his face between them. You took your turn to look at him confusedly, breath uneven. “Your lips are soft” you blabbered and Eddie chuckled, kissing your nose.

You were staring unseeing into Eddie’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but bring you even closer to him, face against your neck. “You are so perfect. Fuck- I love kissing you.”

His lips were a sin against the sensitive skin on your neck. So skilled and full, you just had to grip the back of his neck, head tipped back in pleasure.

“You can do more” you whimper, pleased when you felt Eddie’s bulge against your clothed cunt, closing your eyes tightly at the sinful feeling.

Heavy silence enveloped them as Eddie stilled, because, well… he had two options. Possibly screw his friendship with Dustin or… not.

Oh no. Eddie began to panic.

“I can’t” he pulled back, shaking his head as if he was having a whole ass discussion in his mind. And boy, was he. “I can’t, Y/n. This is not right, that’s not how this is supposed to happen.”

He got up, brushing down his clothes with his hands. You had no words as you stared up at him, shivers ran down your spine when you realised that he was practically running down the stairs and you were left alone. He didn’t care, of course he didn’t. You had tried everything to make him like you, but it still wasn’t enough for him.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #eddie munson x henderson!reader #Dustin with a… hammer?

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doumadono · 1 year

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Upper Moons & Muzan in heat - headcanons

Warnings: fem!reader, some extra short smut, suggestive content Synopsis: If Muzan and the Upper Moons were in heat, how would they behave? Requested by: @within-eyesight ♥

MASTERLIST

Muzan

When Muzan Kibutsuji, the progenitor of demons, enters his heat, his desires become insatiable. Known for his pride and desire for control, Muzan prefers to initiate spicy time by seducing his chosen partner, whether it's a demon or a human. He uses his supernatural charm and allure to captivate them completely. Muzan's approach is subtle yet forceful, employing a mix of his demon powers and charismatic personality to bring his partner under his spell. Once he has them fully enraptured, Muzan revels in dominating them completely, pushing their limits and indulging in their darkest fantasies.

Kibutsuji, his eyes glowing crimson, leans in close to you, a human whose heart races in both fear and anticipation. He runs a slender finger along their trembling jawline, relishing the way your breath hitches in response. "Oh, my dear, you have no idea how desperately I crave you. Your every breath, your every moan will be mine to savor. Surrender yourself to me, and I promise to show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams." His voice drips with a potent mixture of desire and command, sending shivers down your spine. Muzan's predatory gaze never wavers as he slowly traces a trail of delicate kisses along your neck, his lips brushing against your skin like velvet.

You remain unaware of the exact moment when and how Muzan overpowers you, pinning you forcefully to the wooden floor of his chamber. His immense weight presses down upon you relentlessly as he thrusts his cock back and forth, filling the room with the sounds of his deep grunts and your subdued whimpers. Desperately, you clutch onto his shoulders, clinging for dear life.

Douma

Douma, the Upper Moon Two, has a reputation for his sadistic and playful nature. When he experiences his heat, he becomes even more mischievous and unpredictable. Douma initiates spicy time by luring his desired partner into a twisted game of cat and mouse. He enjoys toying with their emotions, tantalizing them with hints of pleasure while also teasing and tormenting them. Douma's approach is characterized by a constant push-and-pull dynamic, alternating between intense moments of passion and sudden withdrawal. He thrives on the thrill of the chase and the element of surprise, making the experience an exhilarating rollercoaster ride for both himself and his partner.

Douma smirks devilishly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he toys with you, a mere human being who struggles to resist his charm. He teases you with a sultry laugh, his voice tinged with anticipation. "Oh, my sweet little plaything, you can try to run, but we both know you'll come crawling back for more. The game has just begun, and I can't wait to see how long you can withstand my insatiable appetite." His voice carries a seductive lilt as he closes the distance between you, his fingers dancing along your exposed skin of your shoulders with featherlight touches. Douma revels in the power he holds over you, your reactions fueling his insatiable desire for control.

With both legs positioned against his wide shoulders and your head tilted back, you express audible pleasure by moaning and screaming his name with every forceful motion Douma delivers, intensifying as he penetrates you deeper due to the angle, his sturdy grip caressing your breasts as he pounds into you with full force.

Akaza

Akaza, also known as Upper Moon Three, is a relentless and fierce warrior. During his heat, his primal instincts take over, intensifying his already formidable strength. Akaza initiates spicy time by engaging in combat-like foreplay, combining his martial arts prowess with his desire for dominance. He enjoys testing his partner's resilience and stamina, pushing them to their limits physically and emotionally. Akaza revels in the raw power and passion of the experience, seeking to establish his dominance over his partner. However, beneath his aggressive exterior, Akaza also craves a genuine connection, albeit in a somewhat twisted and possessive manner.

Akaza, his eyes burning with a primal fire, circles you, a brave human who stands your ground despite your trembling, trying to fight him. His voice carries a hint of aggression, mingled with desire. "You dare to challenge me? Your strength is admirable, but it's your resolve that entices me. Let's see how long you can endure my touch, how long you can withstand the overwhelming heat that consumes us both." His deep voice resonates with a mixture of dominance and longing as he closes the distance between you, his powerful aura enveloping you. Akaza's touch is both demanding and tender, leaving a trail of heat in its wake as he explores your body with possessive determination.

Soon, you're riding him, feeling the touch of his calloused hands on the curves of your waist, urging you to quicken your pace with each movement of your hips. Akaza's head tilts backward as he endeavors to enhance the pleasure, meeting your rhythm by thrusting his own hips into you, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix with each push.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo, the Upper Moon One, embodies elegance and refinement. During his heat, his typically composed demeanor becomes more intense and passionate. Kokushibo initiates spicy time by creating an atmosphere of elegance and sensuality. He engages in elaborate rituals and ceremonies, drawing inspiration from traditional Japanese aesthetics. Kokushibo's approach is marked by grace and precision, focusing on the art of pleasure and the exploration of his partner's senses. He values the harmony of body and soul, seeking to transcend the physical realm through a deep connection with his chosen partner. Kokushibo's desires are a delicate balance of refinement and primal urges.

Kokushibo, his dark hair cascading around him like a waterfall, gazes into the eyes of yours, a human filled with a mix of curiosity and nervousness after meeting Upper Rank One for the very first time. He speaks softly, his voice resonating with elegance. "Ah, my dearest child, let us transcend the boundaries of pleasure. Through artful touch and sacred connection, we shall discover depths of ecstasy beyond mortal comprehension. Allow me to guide you on this exquisite journey of the senses. Trust me." His words hold a poetic quality, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom and desires. Kokushibo's movements are graceful as he traces intricate patterns along your skin, every touch deliberate and filled with reverence. He revels in the symphony of your desires, seeking to create an experience that blends the physical and spiritual realms.

You find yourself on all fours, feeling the weight of Kokushibo's strong hand pressing your head firmly against the mattress as he thrusts into you with an intense, primal rhythm, his grip tight on your hip as your plump ass jigles with each of his thrusts. You can't help but anticipate the bruises that will surely adorn your hips tomorrow.

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a-lexia11 · 1 month

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Jealousy,Pink hair,More Jealousy (Meet in Barcelona part 3)

Alexia Putellas x reader

Warning: very angsty and fluffy

Word counts: around 11k

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

The following day at work, Alba was relentless in her attempts to pry information out of me about what happened between me and her sister. It all started because I accidentally let it slip that I had spent the night at Alexia's place.

Even though I kept insisting that nothing significant happened, Alba wouldn't let it go.

She kept teasing me with playful remarks and insinuations, making it nearly impossible for me to focus on my tasks.

I tried multiple times to divert the conversation to other topics, but Alba was determined, and her persistence made it a challenging day at work.

At the end of the day, as we were making our way to our cars in the parking lot, I received a text from Alexia asking how my day had been.

Alba, being the nosy person she is, glanced over at my phone to see who had texted me.

As soon as she saw it was her sister, she quickly snatched the phone from my hand. “Alba!” I shouted, feeling a mix of frustration and surprise.

She didn't waste a second; she sprinted towards her car with a mischievous grin, got inside, and immediately locked the doors.

I could see her laughing through the window as she held my phone hostage, leaving me standing there, both annoyed and amused by her antics.

“Alba!” I screamed, hitting the window of her car in frustration. “Alba! Puta, dame mi teléfono.” (Alba! You bitch, give me my phone!)

She just gave me the finger and stuck her tongue out, clearly enjoying her little victory.

From my perspective outside the car, I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but it seemed like she was scrolling through my text messages.

Alexia and I had been texting non-stop since I left her house on Sunday.

Our conversations were always filled with endless texts and phone calls, talking about everything and anything under the sun.

Alba finally unlocked her car, and I wasted no time in opening the door, hitting her on the head, and snatching my phone back with a swift motion.

She looked at me with a mocking smile.

“Has estado enviando muchos mensajes de texto” (You’ve been texting a lot) she said sarcastically.

“¡No me envías tantos mensajes a mí!” (You don’t text me that much!) she continued, pretending to be offended.

“Sí, porque eres una tonta” (Yes, because you’re a bitch) I retorted, glaring at her.

She just laughed at me, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Por cierto, ¿espero que no hayas olvidado que el cumpleaños de Bianca es mañana?” (By the way, I hope you didn't forget that Bianca's birthday is tomorrow?) she reminded me completely changing conversation.

“¡Oh, es verdad! Totalmente lo olvidé. No estoy seguro de si podré ir; tenemos mucho trabajo que terminar antes de las vacaciones de verano.” (Oh yes! That's right, I completely forgot. I'm not sure if I can make it; we have a lot of work to finish before summer vacation) I explained,feeling a bit overwhelmed by the thoughts of all the tasks ahead.

“¡Vamos, por favor! Nos vamos a divertir, y Alexia también estará allí.” (Oh, come on, please! We're going to have fun, and Alexia will be there to) she said, wriggling her eyebrows playfully.

I didn’t realize Alexia would be there. Even though I saw her just yesterday morning, I miss her and would love to see her again.

I pretended to mull it over, furrowing my brow and glancing into the distance, so she wouldn’t guess that my real reason for going is to see Alexia.

I tried to sound hesitant, saying, “Bueno, tal vez pueda hacer un esfuerzo“ (Well, maybe I can make an effort) while inside, I was already looking forward to the chance to see Alexia again.

With a joyful cheer, Alba clapped her hands and planted a warm kiss on my cheek. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she exclaimed, “¡Vamos a divertirnos mucho juntos! ¡Te lo prometo, va a ser increíble!” (We're going to have so much fun together! I promise you, it's going to be amazing!)

“¡Estoy segura de que nos divertiremos mucho, pero tengo que irme ahora; tengo mucho trabajo que hacer y tú también!” (I’m sure we will have tons of fun but I have to go now; I have a lot of work to do and you do too! ) I told her kissing her cheeks goodbye and reminding her of her work.

“Adios nena! Hasta mañana” (Bye, babe, see you tomorrow) she said as she buckled her seatbelt with a slight smile. “Adios,Albita” (Goodbye, Albita) I replied, turning to walk away with a casual wave.

Suddenly, I heard her shout, “No me llames así,Puta” (Don't call me that!Bitch) Her voice was filled with a mix of frustration and playfulness.

Without turning around, I simply raised my hand and gave her the middle finger, a mischievous grin spreading across my face.

——

That evening, after enjoying a delicious dinner and meticulously cleaning up my apartment, I settled comfortably on my couch to correct some of the kids' assignments.

Just as I was getting into the rhythm of my work, my phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call from Alexia.

I picked up the phone, and Alexia's familiar face appeared on my screen, her smile instantly lifting my spirits. “Hola guapa,” she greeted warmly, her voice filled with affection. “Hola Ale,” I responded, feeling a sense of comfort.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” (What are you doing?) she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she looked at me through the screen. “Estoy corrigiendo algunos trabajos de los niños, ¿y tú?” (I’m correcting some of the kids’ work and you) I replied, eager to hear about her day and share a bit of mine.

She turned the camera around to show me she was watching a football match. The crowd was roaring in the background. She then turned the camera back to her face and smiled mischievously at me.

“You know you can watch something other than football,” I informed her with a smile. “No, gracias” she replied firmly, and I rolled my eyes at her, amused by her stubbornness.

“Alba said that you’re coming to the restaurant for Bianca’s birthday tomorrow” she said with a hint of excitement in her voice. “Yes, I am” I replied, glancing up from the papers I was correcting.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go together. I can pick you up at your apartment around 8, and we can go together” she asked, her tone hopeful. “Yes, I’d love that” I responded, smiling at her.

After that, I asked her how she was feeling about the upcoming Champions League final. I knew that last year's final did not go well, and Alexia was devastated by that loss.

She had been so hopeful, and the defeat really took a toll on her. However, this year seemed different. She was pretty confident, having seen the team’s progress and improvements.

Yet, I could still sense a bit of nervousness in her voice, a lingering anxiety about what might happen.

“I really hope you guys win just because I want to see you with pink hair” I told her, and she laughed.

We spent hours on the phone, discussing everything and anything until it was time to sleep. I nestled into bed, wrapping myself in the duvet, mirroring Alexia's movements.

“Buenas noches, guapa. Hasta mañana” (good night, beautiful.See you tomorrow) she softly uttered, sending virtual kisses through the phone.

“Good night, Alexia” I reciprocated. Her smile lingered in my mind as the call ended, and I peacefully drifted off to sleep shortly after.

——

The next day, after wrapping up another busy day at work, I found myself back at my apartment, preparing for Bianca’s birthday celebration at a cozy restaurant.

Alexia texted me, saying she’d arrive in five minutes, so I took the opportunity to perfect my makeup just a bit more.

When I received the text that Alexia had arrived, I quickly grabbed my bag and headed out of my apartment. As soon as I stepped into the parking lot, I immediately spotted Alexia’s car.

She hadn’t noticed me yet, still deeply engrossed in her phone, so I decided it would be the perfect moment to give her a little scare.

Silently, I made my way around the car, moving as quietly as possible until I reached her window. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, I started knocking on it frantically.

Alexia looked up at me with wide eyes, as if she had just seen a ghost. She jumped in her seat, her phone nearly slipping from her grasp, and clutched her hand over her heart in shock.

Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and for a moment, she was completely frozen, staring at me in utter disbelief.

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at her reaction. Still chuckling, I walked around the car, opened the passenger door, and slid into the seat beside her, my laughter echoing in the confined space of the car.

“Eres tontissima,”(you’re so stupid) she said, still looking at me horrified and slapping my thigh.

“Hi, Ale,” I told her, still laughing a little and leaning over the console to kiss her cheek. I felt her warm skin against my lips and the familiar scent of her perfume filled the air.

She smiled a bit at me, her eyes still shining with a mix of surprise and amusement, and greeted me back. With a fluid motion, she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, her hands steady on the wheel.

While she was focusing on the road, I couldn’t help but admire her. She looked so beautiful under the soft evening light streaming through the windows.

She was wearing a simple white crop top that accentuated her figure and a pink and orange skirt.

Her hoop earrings sparkled with every ray of sunlight that touched them, adding a touch of elegance to her simple yet incredibly attractive look.

——

When we arrived at the restaurant, Alexia and I exited the car.

I waited as she retrieved her purse from the backseat, then she walked over and put an arm around my shoulder. “Vamos” (Let's go) she said, guiding me to the entrance.

We spotted our friends at the table and went over to greet them one by one. I knew everyone except one person. Alba introduced him to me; his name was Marcus, and he was also American.

Alexia and I took seats across from each other, and I ended up next to Marcus. He was very friendly and chatty, telling me how glad he was to finally talk with another American.

For most of the dinner, I ended up conversing with Marcus. Being at the end of the table and with him next to me, I didn't have much of a choice, especially since he was talking... A LOT.

I didn't mind because he was very sweet and funny.

When I glanced over at Alexia, she seemed unhappy, frowning and staring at her plate.

I gently nudged her leg to get her attention. When she looked up, I smiled at her, trying to lift her spirits, but she just looked away.

What’s wrong with her?

I decided to leave her alone, thinking she might be socially exhausted.

After we finished the cake, Alexia excused herself to go to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I excused myself and followed her.

The bathroom was empty, and Alexia was at the sink, washing her hands. I approached her.

“Alexia, estás bien” (Alexia, are you okay?) I asked, trying to place my hand on her shoulder but she stepped back to grab some paper and dry her hands.

“Estoy bien” (I'm fine) she murmured without looking at me. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?” I insisted.

“No, te dije que estoy bien” (No, I told you I'm fine) she said, about to leave the bathroom, but I blocked her path and stood in front of her, putting my hand on her chest to stop her.

“Tell me what's going on” I insisted once more. “Oh Dios mío, no pasa nada, puedes volver a hablar con él.” (Oh my God, nothing's wrong, you can go talk to him again) she said, looking at me with anger.

I looked at her confused. “Marcus?” I asked. “Sí, vuelve con él” (Yes, go back to him) she replied.

I looked at her for a few seconds before realizing. “Estás celosa” (You're jealous) I pointed out. “No, no lo estoy” (No, I'm not) she replied scoffing.

“Yes, you're jealous, you have no right to be jealous, Alexia.You told me you didn't want me” I reminded her.

“Nunca dije que no te quería, dije que no quería una relación.” (I never said I didn't want you, I said I didn't want a relationship) she corrected.

“It's the same thing, Alexia” I replied, staring at her. “No, no lo es, I want you” (no it’s not) she murmured, looking into my eyes.

“Look, Alexia, we're not together, so you have no right to be angry and jealous over someone else” I explained.

“Lo se” (I know) she murmured softly and wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me closer to her.

“I want to be with you, but I can't because-”

I interrupted her before she could finish.

“Yes, I know, because of your job, but it's a shit excuse, Alexia. If you really want to be with someone, you wouldn't let anything come between you and that person” I told her. “And I understand you want to focus on your career, but who said you can't have both, a career and someone to love?” I continued.

She didn't say anything ,she just stared at me and then after a few minutes slowly leaned down towards me, her face getting closer to mine.

I didn't move closer, even though I wanted to, I wanted her to do the first move.

She gently brushed her nose against mine, and I closed my eyes.

But just as she was about to kiss me, an elderly lady entered the bathroom, and we quickly moved away from each other.

Thanks a lot grandma…

“Let's go back with the others” she said, taking my hand before kissing me on the forehead and leading me back to our friends.

Returning to our table, Alba gave me a strange look, and I just shrugged at her.

For the rest of the night, Alexia and I didn't talk, and I did everything I could to avoid making eye contact with her.

——

At the end of the evening, everyone exchanged farewells. While hugging Alba, she sensed something was off and asked me about it. I promised to explain later.

Alexia and I got back into her car, and the drive home was filled with silence. When we pulled into my apartment's parking lot, I unbuckled my seatbelt and mumbled a thank you and good night. Just as I was about to leave, she grabbed my arm.

“Espera”(wait) she said. I turned to face her as she shifted in her seat, letting go of my arm.

“Lo siento” (sorry) she began. “No debería haber actuado como lo hice en el restaurante.” Tenías razón; estaba celosa.(I shouldn't have acted the way I did at the restaurant. You were right; I was jealous) she confessed, taking my hand and fiddling with my fingers without looking at me.

“I'm sorry too” I replied. “I shouldn't have told you how to live your life. You have every right to not want a relationship right now” I added, intertwining our fingers.

“No estoy segura de lo que quiero en este momento, pero una cosa que sí sé es que te quiero a ti” (I'm not sure what I want right now, but one thing that I do know is that I want you) she said softly.

“Te quiero tanto, tengo todos esos sentimientos por ti, pero no lo sé, supongo que solo necesito tiempo para entenderlo.” (I want you so much,I have all those feelings for you but I don’t know, I just need time to figure it out I guess) she continued looking at me straight in the eyes.

“I want you too,Alexia and it's okay, take your time. We can go slow if that's what you need” I suggested.

“I can't ask you to wait for me” she said, placing her other hand on my cheek and gently stroking it.

I leaned into her touch. “You're not asking. I want to” I assured her, kissing her palm.

She smiled gently and leaned in, kissing me on the cheek, close to my lips.

She pulled back, and I smiled, giving her an eskimo kiss, which made her laugh.

We said our goodbyes with kisses on each other's cheeks and a long, warm hug.

——

Later, as I lay in bed, I received a text from her.

La Reina 👸: buenas noches, nena.Dulces sueños. I promise you that I will try and figure out what I want as soon as possible.(goodnight. Sweet dreams)

I smiled at her message, sent her some heart emojis, and wished her sweet dreams too.

——

The week flew by, as usual, I went to work. I shared with Alba what happened with her sister and how we agreed to take things slowly. She was thrilled and kept teasing me about it.

I also informed my friends and parents about it since I tell them literally everything. My mom was ecstatic, constantly asking about Alexia, while my dad mentioned watching some of her matches.

Alexia and I grew closer too. Despite the challenge of not seeing each other much during the week, we managed to spend quality time together. When apart, we would text or video call each other.

Alexia has become incredibly affectionate with me lately. She's always finding ways to touch me, whether it's a gentle hand on my arm or a playful nudge. She kisses my cheeks and forehead with such tenderness, and her hugs are warm and comforting. We spend a lot of time cuddling, and every moment feels special.

Honestly, I’m not complaining at all—I absolutely adore the attention and affection she showers on me.

Moreover, with Alexia, Alba, and some of our friends, we planned an exciting trip to Bali during the summer vacation. It's going to be an incredible getaway just before Alexia flies to Australia for the World Cup. We’ve been looking forward to exploring Bali’s beautiful beaches, vibrant culture, and delicious cuisine. I can’t wait for it – the relaxation, the adventures, and the quality time with friends. Vacation finally!

——

Currently, I was at Alexia's apartment preparing dinner while she was in the shower.

As I was stirring the sauce for the pasta, I felt two arms wrapping around my waist and a muscular front pressing against my back.

“Eso huele muy bien, nena” (That smells so good) Alexia whispered into my ear, kissing it softly.

I leaned back into her and kissed her cheek. “It’s almost ready, can you set the table?” I asked her.

She just nodded, placing another kiss on my cheek before letting go and setting the table.

“So the Champions League final is Saturday,” Alexia started as we were eating. “Yeah, I know,” I said, looking up at her.

“And it’s in the Netherlands,” she continued. “Yeah, I know that too,” I smiled amusingly at her.

“I want you to come to the final” she said, looking a little nervous. “Alba, mami, and my uncle are coming, and I want you to come too,” she continued.

“Really? Are you sure?” I asked her, surprised at her request. “Yes! You can be like my good luck charm,” she said, placing her hand on my thigh and caressing it.

“Good luck charm, huh? I mean, the last time I came to one of your matches, you lost,” I told her jokingly.

She laughed softly and slapped my thigh. “Please, come. I want you there” she practically pleaded.

“Sure, I’ll be there, Ale” I informed her, and she smiled at me and kissed my cheek.

——

On Tuesday night, I found myself bidding farewell to Alexia with a warm embrace as she was departing for the Netherlands on Wednesday, and I won't see her for 4 days, which, although not a long time for some, feels quite lengthy to me.

I departed from Spain on Friday night, after school ended, with Alba.Her mom and uncle had left already left on Thursday.

Upon landing at the airport, we took a taxi to our hotel. With no immediate plans until that evening, we decided to join Alexia's mom and uncle in exploring the city.

Naturally, I kept Alexia informed about our activities, and she updated me on her well-being and the team's activities.

After an afternoon of sightseeing and shopping, we returned to the hotel to freshen up. Sporting Alexia's shirt, we headed to the stadium.

The stadium wasn't very crowded yet, so we found our seats near the field and waited.

Eventually, the girls came out to inspect the field. I noticed Alexia; she was dressed in the Barca tracksuit and had her headphones on.

Eli called out her daughter’s name to catch her attention. Alexia turned around when she heard her mother’s voice and came over.

She gave each of us a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She talked with us for a bit, and it was clear she was getting more nervous as time went on.

“Can I talk to you?” she whispered in my ear.

“Yes, of course” I responded.

We excused ourselves from her family and found a little private space where there weren't many people. Immediately, Alexia pulled me into a tight hug.

“Te extrañé mucho” (I missed you so much) she said, burying her head in my neck.

“I missed you too, Ale. I'm so happy to see you” I mumbled, rubbing her back. “How do you feel?” I continued.

She pulled away slightly and she grabbed my hands and intertwined our fingers. “Un poco nerviosa” (A little nervous) she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

I moved closer to her. “It's okay, Ale. I'm sure you're going to be amazing” I reassured her.

She smiled gently at me and kissed my forehead. “I'm so happy that you came” she murmured against my skin.

I looked up at her and smiled, then kissed her cheek repeatedly making her giggled. “Some good luck kisses for you” I informed her.

“Muchas gracias, con todos esos besos no hay manera de que pierda.” (Thank you very much, with all those kisses there’s no way I’m losing) she said playfully.

Our moment was interrupted by Irene Paredes calling Alexia over, signaling that it was time for her and the team to get ready for warm-up.

“Te veré después del partido, cariño.” (I'll see you after the match) she said, placing one last lingering kiss on my forehead before accompanying me back to her family.

She said goodbye and hugged them warmly.

Once Alexia left, Alba looked at me teasingly. “Alexia está enamorada de Y/N.” (Alexia is in love with Y/N) she sang repeatedly, her voice dripping with playful mischief.

“A veces me pregunto por qué somos amigas; eres tan molesto.” (Sometimes I wonder why we're friends; you are so annoying) I said, pushing her away gently, though a small smile played on my lips.

Alba's teasing was relentless, but it was part of her charm.

Eli, ever the voice of reason, smiled gently at me and then turned to Alba. “Deja en paz a esa pobre chica, Alba, y metete de tus asuntos.” (Leave that poor girl alone, Alba, and mind your business) she said sternly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Eli's protective nature always made me feel supported.

“Lo siento,mami” (Sorry, mami) Alba said, looking dejected. I couldn't help but smirk a little at her.

“¡Gracias, Eli! Sabes que definitivamente eres mi Putellas favorita.” (Thank you, Eli. You know you're definitely my favorite Putellas) I told her, smiling warmly.

She returned the smile, her eyes twinkling with kindness. Eli had a way of making everyone feel special.

Alba just scoffed at that, rolling her eyes dramatically. I moved closer to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek softly.

“No te preocupes, Alba, siempre serás mi tonta favorita.” (Don't worry, Alba, you will always be my favorite idiot) I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Alba's playful nature was something I cherished, even if she drove me crazy sometimes.

Alba rolled her eyes again and took out her phone, scrolling through it with a huff.

“Eres imposible” (You're impossible) she muttered, but I could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Despite our constant banter, the bond between us was unbreakable.

——

When the match time arrived, the stadium was full and everyone was waiting for the teams to come out of the tunnel.

Alexia was starting on the bench and she looked focused and determined; this game was very important to her. I really hoped everything would go well.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go well. Wolfsburg was leading 2-0 by the end of the first half...

As the team headed back to the changing room for half-time, I’ve never felt so nervous for a match before.

The second half began, and finally, a goal! The excitement was palpable, and they had a chance to catch up.

Shortly after, another goal! Alba and I erupted into screams, jumping and hugging each other.

Roughly 20 minutes later, Barca scored yet another goal, sending everyone into a wild celebration.

After their heartbreaking loss last year, Barca now had a real shot at winning the Champions League a second time!

Towards the end of the match, Alexia came onto the field, greeted by roaring cheers. Alba and I screamed so loudly that I almost felt like I might throw up.

The final whistle blew, and cheers filled the air. Eli pulled Alba and me into a hug as we watched the Barca players rush onto the field, celebrating together.

After the celebrations and the trophy lift, the players joyfully made their way over to their families and friends, their faces glowing with triumph and excitement.

I spotted Alexia weaving through the crowd, her smile as radiant as ever. She first embraced her mom, holding her tightly as they shared a moment of pride. Next, she turned to Alba, giving her a warm and affectionate hug, followed by a heartfelt embrace with her uncle. Finally, she reached me.

As Alexia wrapped her arms around me, one hand resting gently behind my head and the other securely on my back, I leaned in and whispered, “Congratulations.”

She responded with a tender kiss on my cheek and softly said, “Gracias cariño” before stepping back, her eyes twinkling with happiness.

We spent a few more minutes chatting, sharing in the joy of the victory, before Alexia and the other players needed to head back to the changing room to freshen up and prepare for the evening's festivities.

Later that night, the entire team, along with some close friends and family members, gathered at a charming restaurant to celebrate their hard-earned victory.

The atmosphere was filled with laughter and cheer as everyone reminisced about the match. That night, I had the pleasure of meeting all of Alexia’s teammates, each one as kind and welcoming as she had described.

——

The following day in Barcelona, I found myself relaxing on my couch, casually swiping through Instagram. Alexia and her team decided to hit the clubs to revel in their triumph.

Although Alexia extended an invitation for me to join them, I politely declined, mindful of my upcoming work commitments on Monday and wanting to avoid any potential hangover or exhaustion.

While scrolling through Instagram, I stumbled upon various pictures and clips of the Barca team enjoying themselves at the club.

Among the pictures and videos, I noticed several featuring Alexia alongside a tall brunette and they seemed very close.

In one particular photo, Alexia had her arm wrapped around the brunette's waist, sharing a whispered moment, while the brunette reciprocated with a hand on Alexia's arm, sporting a broad smile.

A twinge of jealousy pricked at me. Despite knowing we aren't in a defined relationship, seeing Alexia in that intimate moment stirred emotions akin to what she might have felt when observing me with Marcus. It was a painful realization.

I tried not to rush to conclusions, acknowledging that the brunette could simply be a friend. Yet, my mind couldn't help but wander down paths of uncertainty.

My time with Alexia is cherished. She provides a sense of security, exudes humor, kindness, and perfection in my eyes. However, as I ponder our ambiguous dynamic, doubts begin to cloud my thoughts.

I know I said I'd wait, but I didn't realize just how difficult it would be. Seeing her with other girls hurts me more than I expected.

Maybe she doesn't want a relationship and just wants to have some fun? Everything is so confusing right now. I find myself questioning everything and wondering if I've been reading too much into our interactions.

Before I could spiral into overthinking, I decided to lock my phone and try to get some sleep. I knew I needed to clear my mind and give myself a break from all these swirling emotions.

——

The next morning, I woke up to a message from Alexia wishing me good night at 5 in the morning... so she must have partied hard all night long.

I went on with my day, did my morning routine, had breakfast, and went out to run some errands. Throughout the day, I received numerous texts from Alexia, and at one point, she even called me.

I decided not to respond to any of them , though. I felt a mix of emotions—anger, sadness, and confusion. I didn't want to say something I might regret later, so I thought it best to keep my distance for now.

I needed time to process everything and figure out how I truly felt.

I know I have no right to act the way I am right now because, for all I know, that girl could just be a friend or something, and Alexia and I aren't even together, so yeah... But the uncertainty and the hurt were too much for me to handle at the moment.

Later, like most Sunday, Alba came over to my apartment for coffee. She's always been a good listener and gives great advice. That's why I decided to ask her about the girl Alexia has been pictured with. I needed a friend's perspective to help me make sense of everything.

“¿Viste algunas de las fotos de las chicas en el club anoche?” (Hey, did you see some of the photos of the girls at the club last night?) I asked Alba, who was scrolling through her phone.

“Sí, parecían estar pasándola muy bien. ¡Qué noche tan loca debe haber sido!” (Yeah, they looked like they were having fun. What a crazy night that must have been) she commented with a smile.

“¿Sabes quién es la chica alta y morena que estaba con ellas?” (Do you know who the tall brunette with them is?) I inquired.

“¿Cuál morena?” (Which brunette?) she asked, confused.

I took my phone and showed her one of the many photos where this girl appeared. Alba looked closer and her eyes widened and she took my phone out of my hand to take a closer look.

“Que?” (What?) I asked. “¿La conoces?” (Do you know her?) I added curiously.

“Sí, la conozco. No sabía que había vuelto.” (Yeah, I know her. I didn't know she was back) she commented. “¿Por qué estaba ella allí con ellos? ¿Alexia la invitó?” (Why was she there with them? Did Alexia invite her?) she asked, intrigued.

“No lo sé, pero Alexia la conoce?” (I don't know, but Alexia knows her?) I said impatient. Alba seemed hesitant to tell me something, and I frowned, urging her to speak.

“Sí, esa es Marina, su exnovia.” (Yes, that's Marina, her ex-girlfriend) she murmured. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh," I simply said.

I felt nauseous. That's her ex-girlfriend. Her ex-girlfriend was partying with her and was really close to her. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to hold back my tears.

I asked Alba more questions, and the more I learned, the more my heart broke.

So, she was Alexia's ex-girlfriend, and they were together for almost 8 years! They started dating when they were 18 years old.

They broke up because Marina was moving to South America. That's the reason for their breakup, not because they didn't love each other anymore or had relationship problems, but because she was moving away.

And now that she's apparently back, will Alexia go back to her?

Alba gave me a sorrowful look with a gentle smile, and I quickly averted my gaze and changed the topic. If we kept talking about it, I would definitely start crying.

——

Over the next few days, I continued to avoid Alexia and her messages, either not replying or responding very briefly. Until I could no longer ignore her.

One evening, while I was making dinner, I heard a knock at the door. I went to open it, and there was Alexia, holding Nala in her arms.

“Hola” she greeted me with a sad smile. "Uh... hi," I responded, surprised to see her here.

“Can I come in?” she asked. Instead of answering, I just opened the door wider to let her in.

She walked in and set Nala down, and the little dog wandered off to the living room. I headed back to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? Or maybe you're hungry? I just finished dinner” I offered.

“No, thank you” she replied. “Podemos hablar?” (Can we talk?) she continued. I sighed, not really in the mood to have a conversation with her right now, but I nodded anyway.

She took a seat on the couch, and I sat next to her, leaving a noticeable gap between us.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked softly but directly. I looked at her. “No, I'm not” I answered. “Entonces, ¿por qué me estás evitando?” (Then why are you avoiding me) she asked more firmly.

“I'm not avoiding you” I lied. I didn't want to bring up the team party and how she probably spent the whole night with her ex-girlfriend.

"Yes, you are. No respondes a mis mensajes o llamadas, ya no vienes a mi apartamento. (You don't reply to my messages or calls, you don't come to my apartment anymore...) she trailed off, then moved closer and took my hand in hers. “Te extraño” (I miss you) she said softly.

I felt really guilty. This wasn't fair to her. I've been ignoring her out of jealousy. Probably nothing happened between her and her ex, and here I am hurting her without telling her why.

I moved closer to her. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you. I'm just really tired, and work is also overwhelming. It's almost summer break, and we need to finish the entire school program before the holidays” I partially lied, I was indeed a little bit stressed about the entire school program thing.

I didn't want to bring up the ex-girlfriend issue. I trust her. I know Alexia; if she wanted to talk to me about it, she would have. So I won't bring up Marina. I'll let Alexia talk about her first if she feels she needs to.

Alexia wrapped her arm around my waist and gently rested her forehead against mine, whispering softly, “It’s okay, cariño. I know it can be stressful, but you can do it and think about the summer vacation! Two months without work or children and also we are going to Bali!”

I smiled gently, kissed the tip of her nose, and nuzzled my nose against hers. “I can’t wait for it” I replied. She pulled me into a warm hug, and I buried my face in her neck as she soothingly rubbed my back.

“Hey! You won the Champions League! So now you have to dye your hair pink” I playfully reminded her, pulling back slightly but staying close. She laughed, “I know cariño, one of Alba’s friends is coming to my apartment Saturday to dye my hair. Do you want to come too?”

“Yes! I want to be one of the first to see your new hair” I cheered.

In this moment, my mind found peace, though I carried the weight of not being fully honest about my actions.

Yet, for now, serenity enveloped us, at least for tonight.

——

After another eventful week at school, it was finally Saturday, and I was on my way to Alexia’s apartment.

Despite Alexia and I having discussed things the other day, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between us.

On my end, I found myself gradually distancing from her once again... The whole situation with Marina really got under my skin, more than I wanted to admit.

It was something I knew I shouldn't let affect me, but it did. Every time I thought about it, a pang of discomfort hit me, making it hard to act normal around Alexia.

And if Alexia noticed this change between us, she definitely didn't talk about it. She continued to act as if everything was normal, which only made things more confusing for me.

I wondered if she was genuinely unaware of the distance I was creating or if she was choosing to ignore it. Either way, it left me feeling even more isolated and unsure about where our friendship?? Relationship?? was headed.

Arriving at Alexia’s apartment, I parked my car and made my way to the building. I took the elevator up to her floor, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

Once I stood in front of her door, I took a deep breath, knocked, and waited for her to answer. After a few seconds, the door opened, but to my surprise, it wasn’t Alexia standing there.

Instead, it was Marina—the woman who had made me question my "relationship" with Alexia. Seeing her there brought back a flood of emotions and doubts, leaving me momentarily speechless.

“Hola?” (Hello?) she said, sounding confused. “¿Puedo ayudarte en algo?” (Can I help you with something?) she asked, her eyes narrowing at me.

“Um... sí, hola... ¿Está Alexia aquí?” (Um... yes, hi... Is Alexia here?) I asked, my voice faltering slightly. What is she doing here?

“¿Ella sabe quién eres tú?” (Does she know who you are?) she asked, her tone sharp and her eyes scanning me with a hint of hostility.

“Sí. Soy su amigo. Escucha, ¿puedes simplemente llamarla? Ella misma te lo dirá.” (Yes, she does. I’m her friend. Listen, can you just call her? She’ll tell you herself) I said, glaring back at her.

“No puedo, ella está en la ducha.” (I can’t, she’s in the shower) she replied, a smirk playing on her lips.

What’s her problem?

“Tu-” (You—) I started, but then I heard my name being called from down the hall.

Alba. Thank goodness.

She approached us and looked at Marina. They exchanged glances, then suddenly began cheering and hugging each other tightly.

“¡Oh, Dios mío! ¡Te extrañé tanto!” (Oh my god! I missed you so much) Alba exclaimed, squeezing her even tighter.

I stood there awkwardly, my eyes wide. It seemed like they were the best of friends.

“Veo que ya has conocido a Y/N.” (I see you’ve met Y/N already) Alba said once they pulled away, wrapping an arm around me.

“Si ” she said, her previous hostility disappearing. “Pasen, pasen, chicas.” (Come in, come in, girls) she added, opening the door wider to let me and Alba enter the apartment.

I can't shake this terrible feeling about the whole situation. Everything just seems off, and I can't help but worry that something bad is going to happen.

As the three of us settled down at the kitchen table, a sense of being overlooked crept over me. Alba and Marina delved into their conversation, likely catching up on various matters.

I found myself seated beside Alba, with Marina positioned across from her.

The rapid-fire Catalan dialogue left me utterly perplexed, unable to grasp a single word...

A feeling of exclusion and displacement washed over me, contemplating turning to my phone yet refraining to avoid appearing impolite, opting instead to survey the room.

In a sudden moment, my eyes landed on an open suitcase near the couch. Please, let it not be Marina's. Could she possibly be staying here? With only one room available, and considering Alexia's hospitality, it seemed unlikely she'd have Marina sleep on the couch.

Did they share Alexia's bed?

Amidst my mind's tumultuous whirl, Alexia emerged from the shower. Catching sight of us at the kitchen table, a broad smile illuminated her face.

Approaching me, she leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead, tenderly brushing my cheek, whispering a soft “hola cariño” , then proceeded to greet Alba in the same warm manner.

Alexia then sat next to Marina. “Y/N, supongo que ya la has conocido, pero esta es Marina, mi amiga” (Y/N, I guess you’ve already met her, but this is Marina, my friend) Alexia mentioned, gesturing towards Marina.

Sure, Alexia, just your friend. Why don’t you also mention that she is your ex and that you two dated for almost a decade? It’s like she’s skipping over the most crucial part.

I just smiled softly at Alexia without saying another word. Internally, I was a whirlwind of emotions. Alexia then informed us that Mario, Alba’s friend and hairdresser, would arrive a little later to dye her hair.

With Alexia here now, I thought I would feel less overlooked, but no… they immediately delved back into their old memories, sharing stories in Catalan, and showing each other pictures. I couldn’t understand a thing, which made me feel even more out of place.

I’m so tempted to leave right now. Why am I even here? It feels like I’m invisible, just an observer in their world. This was supposed to be an enjoyable visit, but it’s turning out to be anything but that.

I shouldn't feel this way, but it's hard not to. They clearly haven't seen each other for a long time, and I'm sure they were very close when she and Alexia were still together. Given that they haven't met up in three years, it's natural they want to catch up on everything that's happened.

However, it would be considerate if they could speak Spanish so I can understand and be part of the conversation. It feels a bit isolating not being able to follow along, especially when I want to be included and understand what's being discussed.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by a gentle nudge on my feet. When I looked up, I saw Alexia with a concerned frown on her face.

In an attempt to reassure her, I offered a small, comforting smile but she does not look convinced.

She rose from her seat and walked over to me, taking my hands in hers with a firm but gentle grip, and helped me to my feet.

“Volveremos enseguida; vamos a mi habitación.” (We'll be right back; we're going to my room) Alexia announced to Alba and Marina.

She didn't wait for their response; instead, she led me towards her room, closing the door softly behind us as we entered.

She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me closer. “What's wrong? Are you okay? You’re very quiet” she asked, concern all over her face.

“I'm fine” I told her with a small smile, hoping to reassure her.

“Lately you’ve been acting really weird, you’re very distant” she pointed out, her eyes searching mine for answers.So she did noticed my behavior.

“I already told you, Alexia, it’s because of work. I’m stressed” I replied a bit harshly, instantly regretting my tone.

Seeing the hurt and concern on her face made me feel really bad. I shouldn’t have snapped at her; she didn’t deserve that.

I sighed and embraced her. Though it felt so good to be in her arms, there was this indescribable feeling inside me.

Maybe I should tell her how I really feel right now, instead of acting the way I am. It hurts both of us, and I don’t want to push her away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you” I said, burying my face in her neck, trying to convey my remorse through the closeness.

She gently pulled my head away and looked into my eyes. “It’s okay, cariño” she said tenderly, her voice soothing my troubled mind.

We gazed at each other for a few seconds, the world around us fading away. Her eyes flickered down to my lips a couple of times, and I could see the hesitation and desire in her gaze. She then slowly leaned in, her eyes closed, and I closed mine too, anticipating the moment.

She was so close to me, I could feel her breath on my lips, but then the door swung open, and Alexia immediately pulled away, the moment shattered.

WHY?!

“Mario esta aqui” (Mario is here) Marina said, watching us intently, then glaring at me as if I had done something wrong.

“Sí, ya vamos.” (Oh yeah, we’re coming) Alexia said, looking at her, her voice steady but her eyes reflecting the frustration of the interrupted moment.

Marina left, leaving the door open, and Alexia looked back at me with a mixture of regret and determination. “Vamos” she said, walking away, and I followed, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between us.

Making my way back to the living room, I met Mario who seems to be a very nice and kind man.We talked for a little bit about how we are all exited to see Alexia with pink hair.

——

After a while, Alexia was sitting on a chair scrolling through her phone as Mario worked his magic on her hair. I was nestled on the couch with Nala on my lap, gently stroking her fur.

Marina and Alba were engaged in a lively conversation at the kitchen table, their voices a soft murmur in the background.

At one point, Marina excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Alba took the opportunity to come and sit beside me.

Despite her presence, I kept my gaze fixed on Nala, my fingers continuing their soothing motions through her fur.

Alba rested her head on my shoulder and softly asked, “Esta noche vamos a salir con Alexia y Marina. ¿Quieres venir con nosotras?” (Tonight we are going out with Alexia and Marina. Do you want to come with us?) The thought of spending more time with that woman, whom I had known for less than three hours and already disliked intensely, was unbearable. There was no way I was going to have dinner with her.

“No” I replied curtly. My mood was sour, and I had no desire to engage in conversation. Alba had been ignoring me since we arrived, and I felt no inclination to talk to her now.

Alba lifted her head from my shoulders and looked at me, “Por que?” (Why?)she questioned, confusion lacing her voice.

“Simplemente no quiero.” (I just don’t want to) I told her, not looking at her, my voice stern. I could feel the tension building up inside me, a mix of frustration and sadness.

“Te conozco, sé que la presencia de Marina te está molestando.” (I know you, I know that Marina being here is bothering you) she said matter-of-factly, her eyes searching mine for a reaction.

“¡Por supuesto que me molesta! ¿Cómo te sentirías si la ex de tu posible novia todavía estuviera en contacto con ella y parecieran ser las mejores amigas?” (Of course it bothers me! How would you feel if the ex of your potential girlfriend was still in contact with her and they seemed like they were the best of friends?) I told her, whispering so that Alexia wouldn’t hear it. My voice was trembling slightly, betraying the calm facade I was trying to maintain.

“Vale, pero a menos que me haya perdido de algo, tú y Alexia no están juntas, así que, como le dijiste la noche del cumpleaños de Bianca, no tienes derecho a estar celosa.” (Okay, but unless I missed something, you and Alexia are not together, so like you told her the night of Bianca’s birthday, you have no right to be jealous) she told me harshly. Her words cut deep, and I felt a pang of guilt mixed with the sting of truth.

It surprised me because Alba had never talked to me like that before. Her tone was usually gentle and understanding, but now it was firm and unyielding.

I bit my lips, trying to stop the tears from coming out.

Obviously, Alba loved Marina; I could see it in the way they talked and laughed with each other. It was like they had their own little world.

What if Alba is not against the idea of Alexia and Marina getting together? The thought made my chest tighten, and I felt a wave of loneliness wash over me.

I looked at Alba, my eyes filled with a mix of emotions, before turning my gaze back to Nala on my lap. Words seemed unnecessary at that moment.

Marina returned from the bathroom, her presence immediately drawing attention as she made her way over to Alexia, who was seated and getting her hair washed.

The scene before me unfolded like a slow-motion movie, every detail etched into my mind.

The two of them were laughing and chatting, their chemistry undeniable. They looked like a couple, completely at ease with each other.

At one point, Marina wrapped an arm around Alexia’s shoulders, and Alexia responded by encircling Marina’s waist with her own arm. It was a gesture so intimate that it made my heart ache.

Marina caught my eye and smirked knowingly, aware of the effect their closeness had on me. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it stung.

Seeing them together like that was painful. In that moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that Alexia still harbored feelings for Marina. After all, Marina was her first love, and they had shared almost a decade together. It was only natural that some feelings might still linger.

The weight of the situation became too much to bear. I couldn't stay there any longer; witnessing their affection was like a dagger to my heart. I gently picked up Nala, who had been my silent companion through it all, and placed her carefully on the couch.

“Voy a irme ahora.” (I’m going to go now) I announced softly, trying to keep my voice steady as I addressed everyone in the room.

“¿Qué? ¿Por qué?” (What? Why?) Alexia’s voice was filled with surprise and confusion as she looked at me, her brows furrowed in concern.

“No me siento bien. Creo que necesito ir a casa y descansar un poco.” (I don’t feel good. I think I need to go home and rest a little) I lied quickly, making my way to the door, my heart pounding in my chest.

"But you can go to my room and lie on my bed if you'd like," Alexia said in english, her voice soft and pleading. "Just let me finish with my hair, and then I'll take care of you, cariño."

She was trying so hard to make me stay, her eyes filled with desperation and hope. I could feel the warmth and sincerity in her words, making it even harder to leave.

“No,thank you” I said quickly and opened the door and telling everyone goodbye.

“¡Espera! Te acompañaré hasta tu coche.” (Wait! I’ll accompany you to your car) Alba said, rising swiftly to her feet.

I nodded and made my way out of the apartment, not waiting for Alba.

Outside the building, I walked briskly to my car, with Alba trailing behind me, trying to keep up with my pace.

“Y/N, espera” (wait) she called out, her voice tinged with desperation, but I didn't stop. I unlocked my car and slid into the driver's seat.

Alba quickly moved in front of my car, her face flushed with urgency. “Lo siento mucho, Y/N. No debería haberte dicho eso.”(I'm so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have told you that) she apologized, her eyes pleading with me.

“Es lo que sea“ (It's whatever) I responded flatly, my gaze fixed on her.

“Por favor, por favor, habla con mi hermana sobre esto. No te alejes de ella. Sé que está confundida ahora, pero te aseguro que tiene muchos sentimientos por ti“ (Please, please talk to my sister about this. Don't pull away from her. I know she's confused right now, but I can assure you that she has so many feelings for you) she implored, her sincerity evident in her voice.

“¿De verdad? Parece que también tiene muchos sentimientos por su ex“ (Does she? She seems like she has a lot of feelings for her ex too) I retorted sarcastically, raising my eyebrows in disbelief.

“Sí, es verdad que está muy cerca de su ex. Pero ya se acabó entre ellos. Solo te quiere a ti, no a ella” (Yes, she's really close with her ex, that's true. But it's over between them. She only wants you, Y/N, not her) Alba insisted, her desperation growing more palpable.

I studied her for a moment, noting the earnestness in her eyes. She seemed absolutely desperate to make me believe her words.

I sighed heavily. “Voy ahora. Es la última semana de clases; tengo cosas que hacer.”(I'm going now. It's the last week of school; I have things to do) I said, avoiding eye contact. “Adios” (Bye) I continued, shutting my door and starting the engine.

As I drove away, I couldn't help but feel the weight of Alba's words lingering in my mind.

——

Upon arriving back at my apartment, I immediately collapsed onto my bed. As I looked at my phone, I noticed several missed calls and text messages from Alexia. With a heavy sigh, I locked my phone and set it aside.

This entire situation feels incredibly overwhelming. From the very beginning, I sensed it would be complicated, but I chose to ignore the warning signs.

I was so consumed by my own desires and selfishly chasing my own happiness that I overlooked the potential consequences. Now, the weight of those choices is bearing down on me, and it's hard to see a way out.

I was desperately seeking happiness. Even though I was fully aware that Alexia wasn't looking for a relationship, the mere thought of having her close to me brought immense comfort and joy.

Her presence, even without the promise of a future together, was enough to make me feel content and hopeful. It was as if just being near her could fill the void I felt inside, and I couldn't resist the allure of that happiness, even if it was fleeting.

However, these past few days have made me realize that this so-called "relationship" with Alexia is causing more pain than happiness. The emotional turmoil and constant uncertainty are taking a toll on me, overshadowing the moments of joy I once cherished.

I know what I need to do; I have to end this “relationship” It's a difficult decision, but I need to prioritize my well-being and find a path that leads to genuine happiness and peace.

The mere thought of it brought tears to my eyes, and before I knew it, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

Each tear felt like a release of the pent-up emotions I'd been holding in for so long. I cried until I was exhausted, my body shaking with each sob.

Eventually, the overwhelming fatigue took over, and I cried myself to sleep, my pillow damp with tears.

——

I woke up startled by a persistent knocking on my door. Groggily, I got up and made my way to the front door.

As I passed by the entrance mirror, I caught a glimpse of myself and realized I looked like a complete mess.

My face was red and puffy, my eyes were swollen from crying, and my hair was a tangled, disheveled disaster. I was the very definition of a hot mess.

Despite not caring much about my appearance at that moment, I opened the door. There stood Alexia, holding a bag in her hand.

Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing me, and I couldn't blame her—I probably looked quite scary.

Alexia, on the other hand, looked stunning. Her pink hair framed her face perfectly, and I couldn't help but think how right I was about it suiting her so well.

“Hi, come in” I told her, opening the door wider to let her into the apartment.

She stepped inside and headed straight for the kitchen counter, where she began to unload her bag. Out came some soup, bottles of water, a few medicines, and a small box.

“¿Todavía te sientes mal? Le pedí a mi mamá la receta de la sopa que solía hacer para Alba y para mí cuando estábamos enfermos.” (Do you still feel sick? I asked my mom for the soup recipe she used to make for Alba and me when we were sick) she explained, moving closer. I instinctively stepped back, trying to avoid any physical contact with her.

“You did this for me?” I asked, feeling a bit touched by her thoughtfulness.

She nodded. “Yeah, well, Marina helped me with it” she admitted, and immediately, I felt a surge of anger.

There was no way I was going to eat that. I’m sure that bitch poisoned it.

“Can we talk?” I asked her gently as she was about to heat up the soup.

“Yes, I'm just warming this up for you” she replied, looking back at me with a soft smile.

“No need, I won't eat it, I’m not sick” I said firmly, making my way to the couch and signaling for her to join me.

She looked puzzled but followed me. She sat down beside me, her movements hesitant.

She reached out to take my hand, but I pulled it away, unable to mask my unease.

Her face fell, and she looked at me with a mix of confusion and hurt.

“Is something wrong? Alba also told me that I should come talk to you” she said, her voice tinged with worry. She leaned in slightly, searching my face for answers.

“Who is Marina?” I asked her directly, my eyes locked onto hers with determination.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “You know who she is. You met her this afternoon. She's my friend” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, who is she really? And please, tell me the truth” I insisted, my voice firm, “I already know who she truly is I just want to hear it from you.”

She sighed deeply. “Ella es mi exnovia.” (She's my ex-girlfriend) she murmured, her voice tinged with shame.

I nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Why wouldn't you tell me that you and your ex are in contact and, from what I saw, really good friends?” I asked, my tone firm but controlled.

“No pensé que fuera gran cosa“ (I didn't think it was a big deal) she whispered, her fingers nervously playing with the fabric of her lap.

“What do you mean, not a big deal? Maybe not for you, but for me it is!” I exclaimed, my voice rising slightly. “Please explain to me how this happened” I continued, taking a deep breath to calm myself.

“It happened before I left for the Champions League final. She contacted me again, telling me that she was coming back to live in Spain. At first, I didn't really want to see her, but then she insisted and asked we could talk so I said yes.” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, then continued, “We talked things out, caught up on life, my career, and hers. I don't know... it feels like old times...” she trailed off, her voice filled with nostalgia. I closed my eyes, biting my lip in frustration.

“It feels like old times...” she clearly reminded of their past relationship.

“She was with you at the club after winning the Champions League” I pointed out, my voice tinged with suspicion.

“Sí, esa noche ella se sentía un poco deprimida, así que la invité allí para animarla.” (Yes, that night she was feeling a little down, so I invited her there to cheer her up) she explained, biting her lip nervously and avoiding my gaze.

“Does she sleep at your apartment?” I asked, my tone sharp and accusing.

“She only slept one night, and it was yesterday. She got into a fight with her mom and didn’t have a place to stay, so I told her to stay with me” she explained again, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of anxiety.

“Did you slept with her,I mean together on your bed”I asked nervously,scared of the answer.

“No, I slept on the couch and she slept on my bed.” Alexia simply responded firmly.

I nodded slowly, processing her words. “If it wasn't a big deal, why didn't you tell me she was back? Why did I have to find out from pictures and from Alba, who told me you guys dated for 8 years,?” I asked, my frustration evident.

If it wasn't a big deal, why didn't she tell me? There must be something else she’s not saying...

“No sé” (I don't know) was all she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I scoffed, feeling a mix of anger and disbelief. “You don't know... I repeated, shaking my head.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” I asked, my voice cracking a little bit, betraying the storm of emotions within me.

Upon hearing the tremor in my voice, Alexia looked up at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t think so...”she trailed off, and as her words hung in the air, I felt my own tears begin to fall, unstoppable.

“It’s a yes or no answer, Alexia,” I told her firmly, trying to wipe away my tears, but it was futile as more streamed down my face.

Alexia hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. “I... I can’t lie to you... When I first saw her again and talked to her, I felt things. But I promise you, with time, all those feelings went away. You made them go away. You were the only one on my mind” she said, her voice gaining strength and urgency.

When she confessed the first part of her sentence, I felt my heart plummet.

All this time, my thoughts and heart had been solely dedicated to her, and to think that at one point her heart and thoughts had been dedicated to someone else was a pain I hadn’t anticipated.

The realization hit me hard, and the hurt was almost too much to bear.

I decided not to mention how I thought her ex was a bitch to me; now isn't the right moment.

However, I was planning to share with her how isolated I felt throughout the entire afternoon.

“I felt awful all afternoon. It seemed like you were all ignoring me, speaking in Catalan, and living in your own world. It felt as if Marina was the only one who mattered, and I was just on the sidelines” I quietly told her, still feeling hurt.

“Lo siento mucho, cariño. Estábamos tan atrapados en recordar el pasado y compartir viejas historias que no nos dimos cuenta de que te estábamos excluyendo” (I'm so sorry, we were all so caught up in reminiscing about the past and sharing old stories that we didn't realize we were excluding you) she tried to explain, her voice filled with regret.

I could see the genuine remorse in her eyes, but at that moment, my feelings of hurt overshadowed any empathy I might have had. It felt like no matter what she said, the sting of being sidelined wouldn't easily fade away.

“I...”I began, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “I think it's time to end whatever this is between us” I whispered softly, my voice trembling.

“¡¿Qué!? ¡No! Por favor, por favor, no hagas eso. Haré cualquier cosa por ti.” (What!? No! Please, please don't do that! I'll do anything for you) she pleaded, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. Her desperation was palpable, and it crushed me even more.

“I'm sorry, Alexia, but this whole situation is a mess... We're just hurting each other...”I paused, wiping my own tears as they fell. “It feels like all we do is hurt each other...” I moved closer to her, taking her hand in mine, feeling the warmth and the tremble of her fingers.

“You're not hurting me; you bring me happiness” she said, her voice shaking as she tried to convince me.

Her eyes were filled with pain and sorrow, and it tore at my heart. “Por favor, no me dejes. Te necesito” (Please, don't leave me. I need you.)

“Alexia…” I trailed off “we are hurting each other… plus look our relationship has not even started yet and you’re already hiding things from me” I told her squeezing her hand.

I hate seeing her like that.

“Lo siento mucho” (I’m so sorry) she said looking at me with so much pain in her eyes.

“Don’t apologized, it’s okay” no, it’s not.

After a few agonizing minutes of silence, the room filled with the sound of our sniffles.

Alexia slowly pulled her hand away and stood up, her movements heavy with sorrow.

“Well…um…Voy a irme ahora” (I’m going to go now) she said painfully, her voice cracking as she wiped away her tears.

I got up too, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. We walked towards the door together, each step feeling like a goodbye. Just as she reached the door, she turned around, her eyes pleading as she opened her arms for a hug.

I hugged her tightly, desperate to hold onto the warmth of her embrace one last time. Her body trembled against mine as she whispered in my ear, “Thank you for bringing me so much happiness these last few weeks,” and then she softly kissed my cheek before pulling away.

“Thank you, for making me happy” I told her, my voice barely above a whisper as I smiled softly at her. She returned the smile, though it was tinged with the same sadness that filled the room.

She then turned around and exited my apartment, leaving me standing there, watching her disappear from my life. I closed the door slowly, the finality of the moment hitting me like a ton of bricks.

I stayed frozen in place, my eyes locked on the door that Alexia had just walked through. The emptiness in the room seemed to echo my own feelings. I had never felt so heartbroken over someone I hadn't even officially dated.

After what felt like an eternity, I managed to gather myself and made my way to the kitchen table. I sank into a chair, staring blankly at the empty space in front of me. That's when I noticed the small box that Alexia had brought earlier, sitting there like a poignant reminder of what had just been lost.

Reaching out for the box with trembling hands, I opened it, revealing a small note that read, “Para mí cariño” adorned with a delicate little heart. Beneath the note lay a necklace with a butterfly pendant, each wing intricately inscribed with our initials.

I was stunned. I had only mentioned to her once that butterflies were my favorite insects, and yet she had remembered and chosen something so personal and meaningful.

The realization hit me like a wave, and I couldn't help but sob uncontrollably. The depth of her thoughtfulness and the memories we shared overwhelmed me.

I had lost her, and the pain was almost unbearable, but deep down, I knew it was for the best... or at least, I hoped it was.

#woso #woso soccer #woso community #woso appreciation #futfem #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #women’s football #woso one shot #fcb femení #woso x reader #woso imagine

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