superlemonsweet · 1 year ago
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Currently sobbing my eyes out from the paper crafts and handmade birthday cards my current and previous students made for me. I am a wreck.
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hanafubukki · 3 months ago
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I don’t normally make duo predictions but I feel there’s a patterns to the duos in the Book 7 cards; these are the duos we have
Ortho - idia
Lilia - sebek
Sebek - ortho
Rook - Vil
Kalim - rook
My predictions if they don’t throw a wrench in with first years are these:
Jade - azul Kalim
Floyd - kalim Azul (I feel the twins could be interchangeable 🤔)
Ruggie - Leona
Cater - Ruggie
Trey - riddle
Silver - Lilia
If we get book 8 or ob cards?
Malleus - silver
Idia - mal
Vil - idia
Jamil - Vil
Azul - Jamil
Leona - Azul
Riddle - Leona
Edit: edited to reflect official Jade and Floyd duos, but I was still right 👀🥳
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dynamitekansai · 6 days ago
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THE USOS REUNITE WWE SMACKDOWN (OCTOBER 25, 2024)
#no useful tags just me bitching lmao#i am SO unmoved#im praying theres more to all this than them just speedrunning this reunion just so certain things can line up in time for ple shows#and so wrestling fans with less than one braincell can get the instant gratification of their favwit tag team together again 🥺#bc oh bite me lolllll#so much of this ~cinema~ is starting to feel rushed and im just hoping theres turns or angles or REASONS for it#but thats asking me to trust wrestling with carrying storylines fully and i do NOT#the things i wanted most from this story were jey getting proper acknowledgement/vindication and apology for his abuse#and explanation for why the family treats solo as they do (and then expect him to be a well adjusted adult lmao)#jey has NO reason to forgive them yet like did they buy him hallmark cards behind the scenes?#and theyve done much worse to him for much longer the new bloodline#you dont get to brag about this being the greatest slowburn long term cinema storytelling and then just....#im HOPING so bad its not just as simple as it looks i am#they keep swearing theres so many more 'innings' to this so idk prove me wrong please literally do#but that still wont make me moved by ✨og bloodline reunion✨#bc what yall mean yall are still the heels in my eyes like why do you have so many family members yall left on the side of the road#while talking about family above all and dont divide family lmao#and i get ~twin bond~ but LORD#actually that twin bond excuse is evil too#solo go bring in jeremiah since hes technically part of wwe canon too and beat their asses together actually lmao#i aint forgot jey saying something like having brothers is great but how being a twin is just different/special#like yeah sure but can you not make your other siblings sound like secondhand brothers or whatever shdhfhjf#ok im done. for now. for this post. maybe.#venting about my interests is fun for me ok#its how i process the information given to me and understand it#and also i like to bitch
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yonpote · 7 months ago
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heres the cards im gonna do for the dnp tarot thing! this was 2017 readings for the future
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unorganisedalienrubbish · 8 months ago
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I was born knowing you
Your heartbeat is my mother tongue, and calling your name is like a prayer. And I believe that, in its truest form, sex is worship.
Your breath in my mouth is absolution.
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veyronvenus · 8 months ago
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what is he even doing in motorsport...jenson baby that is the face of a MODEL!!!!
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nerdzewordart · 1 year ago
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I love her and would gladly let her step on me 😔
Also see: Rune and Ciaran
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babysoftboyking · 2 years ago
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every so often i think abt the fact that sam was so convinced that god wanted him to go back into the cage to confront lucifer only to find out that it was lucifer himself giving him those visions… biting my fist punching the walls etc etc.
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maiteo · 2 years ago
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fica has to be behind this, there’s just no other explanation
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talkorsomething · 5 months ago
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The whole "go to sleep -> think about sh" thing is still happening. I know nobody was wondering, but it's bugging me. My blog anyways.
...
Well, we've gone too far past the "don't sh" territory that i don't think i actually ate all day.
(Owing to the shortness. No brain power probably and also i'm tired.)
And still. Without fail. The thought is there.
#100% секретный дневник левы НЕ ЧИТАЙ#ed tw#sh tw#i dont think i'm adjusting well actually#every stupid little thing sets me off and its not even about me !!!#it's like i keep swinging between 'able to enjoy things like hobbies again' and just ... whatever this is.#it's not like ... look i exaggerate a lot ok. this is not moodswings. thats all. i'm fairly normal all things considered.#anyways i dont know !!!!!!!!!!!! what 2 do!!!!!!!!!#it took me all of guard season before i started really feeling comfortable with guard friends#but with this it's like... i guess i feel like i should know him already. and be ok with everything#well. i dont and i am not. i still feel trapped in the space i've been given.#and i dont get the impression that i'm wanted here really. more like i constantly feel like an intruder [...in my own house]#and it is NOT helping the 'executive functioning'(?) anxiety dysregulation either. i thought i was getting better but i guess today#proved me wrong in that regard. i don't remember what to liken it to.#i don't know. i was cursed with the ability to hear and it's stressing me out.#as always it comes back to being a little *too* self aware...#i know if everything was perfect it wouldnt be life or whatever but god i just want a place where i feel like i'm *safe*#take that how you will if you want.#what i mean by it is i'm tired of getting stuck because i'm scared of making a noise.#& im goddamn tired of being forced into the closet because of 1) of my circumstances (legally i cannot say)#2) the amount of anxiety i get over trying to (re-)come out to someone i KNOW isn't going to judge me in literally any way#well. i made my kofi page anyways. so maybe if i play my cards right top surgery will happen. i hope to fucking god it does >:[
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soaps-mohawk · 9 months ago
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Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.
It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 
As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.
Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.
Chapters containing smut are marked with a *
Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST
This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE
I will no longer be using a taglist for this fic, please follow THIS BLOG and turn on notifications
**This fic is currently in progress**
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NAVIGATION PAGE CRCB DIRECTORY
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Part 1 - The Omega
Chapter 1 - The Introduction Chapter 2 - Adjustments Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful Chapter 5 - What I Want *
Part 2 - The Bond
Chapter 6 - One Step Closer * Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost Chapter 9 - Save Me Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*
Part 3 - The First Heat
Chapter 11 - It's Coming Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins* Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together* Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*
Part 4 - The New Normal
Chapter 15: Bonnie* Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes * Chapter 17: Alone Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go Chapter 19: Daddy Issues Chapter 20: The New Normal * Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment * Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle
Part 5 - A Pack of Five
Chapter 23: Regrets Chapter 24: The Last First Time * Chapter 25: Animals * Chapter 26: Fuck * Chapter 27: Drown In It * Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party * Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega
Part 6 - The Tragedy
Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings Chapter 31: Forced Proximity Chapter 32: The Tragedy Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past Chapter 34: The Whole Truth
Part 7 - The Aftermath
Chapter 35: Threads Chapter 36: To The Sea Chapter 37: The Silence Chapter 38: Shattered Chapter 39: Life
Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re
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seelestia · 5 months ago
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✧ the gambler and his knight.
aventurine can't stand having his outfit exposed to the elements nor to the rude hands of clients that won't cooperate – luckily for him, he has you to take care of it all. { aventurine with a bodyguard!reader. }
⎯ fluff & angst. 2.9k wc. headcanons w/ some written scenes. the plot is vv subtle but it's there a.k.a aventurine simps for you (jokingly) but you both end up catching feelings (not jokingly). mentions of violence, death & russian roulette. pre-penacony timeline. a self-indulgent piece to celebrate this blog's 2nd anniv! ★
★ 〜 masterlist.
© seelestia on tumblr, june 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.
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aventurine who graciously welcomes you under his employment with a game. just a little something to ease your nerves and get you used to his ways. you look at him with such incredulity as if he just fell and hit his head silly. he pays no mind to this – finds it to be amusing a great deal, actually. keep it up, newcomer!
“heads or tails?” he asks, flipping a coin in the air and catching it seamlessly. a routine for him, you would've figured from the sight. “that's. . . an odd way of saying hello,” you point out but your tone bears no hint of protest. he notices that.
“i've heard that one before,” aventurine tilts his head with a smile, nonchalant. “so what's your guess?”
“tails,” you reply without any delay. it's a mindless answer; getting it wrong this way would prove to bear less disappointment compared to putting actual thought in it. “heads for me then,” he whistles.
aventurine opens his palm. it's heads. you frown as if to suspect foul play—but you don't because you know about his notoriously good luck—and your new boss chuckles, almost placatingly.
“looks like i win,” he grins without a care in the world at all. “aren't you starving? let's fetch ourselves a meal, friend.”
a loss rewarded with a prize? you blink. with grace so in contrast to the whiplash you feel, aventurine walks past you with a trail of expensive perfume in his wake. obviously, he expects you to follow and you do after a moment's reluctance.
(this guy is more confusing than the stellaron.)
aventurine who grows quite fond of seeing you acquiesce to his wishes, whether serious or trivial. could you ward off those reporters? could you pour him a drink? could you play a game of poker with him? could you join him for lunch? you're always so professional that he starts to find some mirth in pushing your buttons (never too much). unlucky for you, he does it to be affectionate and lucky for him, you always say yes even if you roll your eyes every single time.
aventurine who trusts you with his credit card. . . to a worrying degree. when asked if he's sure about this, he just waves it off and says it'll be safer in your hands. seriously, this card has been in your possession longer than it's ever been in his. sometimes, he does ask for it back – only to drop some 200k credits to your account. “a tip for doing a good job,” he'd wink casually while you're flabbergasted beyond belief.
aventurine who finds it extremely attractive whenever you step in to protect him from harm. dealing with uncooperative clients is a day in his life, yet some are so brutish they resort to getting physical – but he has you to make sure their hands stay off him. a gun in his direction? knocked off before the trigger even has a chance to get pulled. reaching out to grab him by the collar? they're already on the ground, your foot threateningly pressed on their back as a warning. what a dashing sight – and thanks to you, his pristine outfit has been saved more times than he could count at this point.
aventurine who likes to call you his “knight in shining armor” teasingly. awh, you don't like it? he thinks you're more than deserving of that title with the way you always swoop in to get him out of trouble. if the thousands of credits he gives you aren't enough yet, won't a cute title suffice? “it sounds corny,” you tell him with a grimace—and maybe, yes—but he just chirps coyly, “dunno. i think it's fitting.”
aventurine who makes it his responsibility to check on you after a rough mission. credits are no problem, he'd even reserve the most expensive private doctor in the cosmos if that means you'll recover faster. sadly, he has little to no medical skills – so the most he can offer you is bandages. sure, you can take a bullet to the stomach and handle a punch or two, that's your job, but what about tiny scratches? . . .don't tell him you're about to reject his kind offer.
“what's your favorite color?” he queries, somewhat out of the blue considering the situation where he is helping you tend to a minor cut on your finger. you raise an eyebrow, “why do you wanna know?” as he gently plasters a plain-colored bandage on your skin (which he's only been granted permission to after minutes of begging you to let him do it).
“for the bandages,” aventurine answers. he finds no need to hide his intentions as he runs a thumb over the bandage, softly as to not hurt you, to keep its position secure. “so that the next time you ask, i'll have some in your favorite color for sure.”
“how. . . thoughtful of you,” you snort, amused.
(briefly, he resists the urge to ask if he can place a kiss on your cut for 'luck'. but if he does, you might have his head. so, he'll try another time.)
aventurine who slowly begins to find a sense of comfort in your company. maybe, it's the way you scoff at his quips with a smile or the way you always tell him to be careful. maybe, it's the way you take him seriously or the way you stay by his side—is your job description the only reason why?—or maybe, he's just pathetic and reeks of so much loneliness you feel sympathetic. he can't tell, but he hopes the luxuries he has can persuade you to stay just a little longer. even if you don't actually care. (you do.)
aventurine who notices how anxiety brims in your gaze when you watch him gamble at the table – with a sum too high to be considered sane and sometimes, his own life. he can see it all; how your hands shake as if you want to reach out, how your lips tremble as if you want to tell him to stop. but this is what he's made for, is it not? he'll survive one way or another. . . until fate decides the bill for all his past good fortune is finally due. and when the time comes, he'll be ready for it. (will you?)
a game of russian roulette.
it always starts with thrills only to end with carnage spilled all over the table. luck is the only thing worth praying for at that point and oh, is luck not the dearest friend aventurine ever had? hence the reason why he always agrees, not with a yes but with a “why not?”.
you're there as his protector, yet utterly condemned to the role of a witness as soon as aventurine nods along to that darned game. panic rushes through your veins as the gun is passed around so relaxedly, so easily with laughter all around. aventurine's next in line, you realize grimly. the next decision that comes after is spontaneous, so different from your usual calculated nature – you drag him out of the casino in a frenzy before the weapon even lands in his hand. in your head, there is no other thought louder than: he could've died.
“a shame i didn't get to the fun part,” you hear him hum from behind you, too disturbingly calm for your liking. the bustling noises inside the establishment have all but faded into the background. “that was close, hm?” he laughs, a sound you would've found endearing if this was another occasion. any occasion that doesn't involve teetering dangerously on the precipice of death.
you stop in your tracks and aventurine, behind you, naturally follows. your silence is something he first takes note of and the way your hand shakes as it holds his is the second. you still haven't let go. what's going through your mind? he calls out your name softly, perplexed at your lack of explanation.
“. . .why did you say yes?” you respond with a bitter question. “you could've died. you almost died,” you try to hold back a shout – yet, your words are spat in such a fusillade he feels a seed of guilt starting to bloom inside his lifeless heart. he discards it in favor of putting on a frivolous smile.
“oh, relax,” he lets out a chuckle, one that sounds so ignorant of the taut tension in the air. “it's just some russian roulette. why so serious?” he shrugs as if to physically brush off any seriousness clinging to his figure. his remark gives off the assumption that every single hint of your worry has flown over his head.
“it is serious. . .” you bite your bottom lip. he sneers in return, “yeah? since when?” as if to challenge you to give an actual answer. his life is full of risks, to say otherwise would be a lie. “you're sweet for worrying but you don't actually care about me that much, do you?” he snickers to himself. like the thought of your caring about him can't possibly be true, like it's all just a terrible joke.
but he's the only one laughing.
aventurine falls quiet and finally, genuinely meets your gaze for the first time that night. he doesn't like what he sees. your lips are downturned, unamused and saddened—you do care, a realization that has been left unsaid—and all remainders of levity in him are replaced by immediate dread. it only now registers that the anger, concern, frustration on your face are for him; they're the unavoidable consequences from caring about him.
(his eyes widen. no, no, no.)
“c'mon, you—” he covers it up with a carefree smile, as feigned as it came. he shoves his hand in one of his pockets. it's shaking. “. . .worry too much. you've seen me play a handful of games before. i've never lost a wager, remember?”
you don't look convinced at all. in fact, you look as if you've arrived at the brink of seething. “and if you do? for once in your life, you lose?” you prod him for more. for something, for anything – perhaps, for a promise that he won't do it again.
(but you know aventurine, you know there would be no such promise.)
“then i lose,” he says, final and resigned. “there's really nothing else to it,” he tries to offer you another smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “hey. at least, you'll be there to witness my spectacular fall, right? it'll be a show to remember.”
he nearly doesn't manage to keep up the façade. it's already as precarious as it can be. you don't reply to him this time – instead, you let go of his hand to wipe at your cheeks. his gaze trails after your fingers and it freezes upon seeing the pearly tears falling free from your eyes.
aventurine has never seen you cry before. you're always so stone-faced, so hard to break that he recalls almost cheering when he heard you laugh for the first time. that was when you finally won a round of poker against him. a pity, he would've reminisced about the memory more. . . if only the matter of losing and winning a game isn't as serious as it is now.
“don't say that,” you mutter, harshly wiping away at the incessant tears pouring from your eyes more than you'd ever allow them to. some make their way into your mouth, they taste just as bitter as your current frustration. does he truly value his life so little? you can't fathom it, you can't fathom him at all.
but there is one thing you were certain of, at the very least: “you hired me to protect you,” you shake your head unrelentingly, “so i'll do it. until you throw me away, i won't let you die.”
you've stopped crying then. aventurine feels remorse; the tears that you shed because of him are starting to dry. the selfish part of him wants to reach out and brush them away with his thumb – but would you let him? would this lead you further down the rabbit hole that is him? in the end, he decides against it.
“. . .i'm sorry,” he sighs instead, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. whatever it is he is apologizing for, he doesn't have a clue either. he lets his eyes slip shut. he can't bear to look at you, can't bear to look at his pitiful reflection in your eyes.
(he's not worth caring about, can't you see? he dances hand in hand with death – there is no need to subject yourself to being a spectator.)
the two of you then part ways that night with shallow pleasantries on your tongues. no inside jokes, no evident yearning for the other to stay, no more than an awkward exchange of “i'll see you tomorrow.”
on his way 'home', regret and relief clash to form something inexplicably hollow inside kakavasha's chest. he wanted to wipe away your tears—what a regret—but if he did, they would've burned on his skin and became another mark to haunt him—what a relief he didn't. and frankly, if destiny is about to reap his debt, he'd rather go with no regrets at all.
whether those regrets include you? he doesn't have an answer just yet.
(the name at the bottom of his contract with fate is signed as kakavasha. but you wouldn't recognize that name. not as him, at least.)
aventurine whose eyes can't flutter close at night ever since thoughts of you fill his mind more than they already do before. you care for him, you want him to live—all his fault, he allowed himself to get too close—but these realizations are rooted in too deep and refuse to leave. what to do, what to do, what to do?
it isn't supposed to turn out like this.
what he and you have is meant to be transactional; he'd be spared from unnecessary scuffles and you'd be compensated with monetary payment. he means to keep it superficially fun; for him to tease you with jests—so you'd stay and save him from the deafening silence in his head—and for you to dismiss him with that adorably annoyed look on your face. just some silly banter, that's it.
so then, since when are there rounds of poker where he'd coo over your frown when you lost? or the sound of your lecturing after he secretly got you a high-end item? or meals shared together where you'd bicker over the bill? or bandages in your favorite color kept inside his bedside table? since when do you start to care? . . .since when does he start to care?
think of something else.
kakavasha tosses and turns in his bed, but the soft pillows and blanket do nothing to quell these bothers of his. are feelings always this complicated? he places a hand over his eyes, tired and exhausted, and stares at the ceiling as if it could provide him with an answer.
but there's no use.
in a moment void of logical thinking, he reaches for his phone and hovers a finger over your name in his contacts. he is usually good friends with bad ideas – but not this time, he sets his phone down and lets out a frustrated sigh that only his expensive pillows are there to hear.
(for gaiathra's sake, he hasn't even told you his real name yet.)
aventurine who becomes awfully distant the next time he sees you. you accompany him to meetings with clients per usual, but it's different. . . he talks to you succinctly, not verbosely with that trademark grin of his. his face is bereft of the things you grow to like seeing on him. a sincere smile instead of one just for show, for example. but even that's difficult to ask for since he only speaks to fill the silence with empty chatter. he doesn't look you in the eyes either; you feel a pang of hurt, you've always loved his eyes.
aventurine who discards all thoughts of you as soon as he steps inside pier point to be assigned a project. a conclave between the stonehearts is a matter of top confidentiality and you, dutifully, are ordered to wait for him outside the office. though, he'll admit; your absence by his side actually does leave a gaping void—such hypocrisy, really—but at least, those pesky voices in his head know how to shut up when it comes to work.
“penacony. . . is diamond finally ready to do something about it?”
aventurine rests his left hand on the small of his back, fiddling with the clubs-shaped detailing on the fabric there. it looks like an act of idleness from afar, but anyone observant enough would know it's a way to subdue whatever nerves he wishes to hide.
he waits for the person in front of him, gazing at the purplish-red sky of pier point at sunset, to speak. for their next words shall mark the start of his next journey in fate's course.
aventurine who hesitates to let you come to penacony with him at first. but it'd be poor reasoning not to, since some might have a bone to pick with him as the corporation's representative. . . and he knows you'll protest to come with anyway. fine then, situationship discomfiture be damned – not even a second after he steps out of the meeting, his neon eyes finally meet yours. “so, how does a trip to penacony sound?” he announces with a confident smile. you blink, noticing how his lips are wobbling at the sides. you don't say no, however. (if only the two of you know what sort of ride you're getting yourselves into.)
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— thanks for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. why don't we all sob over this man like it's a cryfest ♡
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girlgenius1111 · 1 month ago
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sick day
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alexia putellas x reader... mila fic illness strikes the putellas household, and alexia is determined to take care of her baby... even if she is sick too. you think about how far your wife has come. sickfic things :) soft mami alexia 🙂
Alexia’s alarm blared through the house, waking you up where you were passed out in the rocking chair in Mila’s room. Your daughter stirred, but was evidently too exhausted from keeping you up half the night to fully wake up. 
Somewhat grumpily, you stood up and stretched, before making your way to the bedroom. You were assuming Alexia had gotten up early and started to get dressed without turning off her alarm, leaving it to go off on her nightstand. When you walked into the room, though, and saw her still out cold in bed, you instantly knew something was wrong. You turned her alarm off and gently tried to rouse your wife. Her skin was hot to the touch, and you frowned, beginning to have an idea as to what was wrong with the blonde. 
Pushing a few sweaty strands of hair off her forehead, you watched as her face scrunched with discomfort. “Baby, wake up for me.” You murmured. 
Alexia just groaned in response, reaching out a hand to grab a fistful of your shirt, as if she was afraid you were going to go. 
“You’re really hot. Are you feeling okay?” 
Alexia shook her head mutely, squirming until she had kicked the covers away from one of her legs. You knew she was feeling bad, if only for the lack of jokes made about you calling her ‘really hot’. 
“Sick.” She mumbled pathetically, tugging on your shirt until you gave in and sat on the bed next to her. She snuggled into your side, radiating heat, and you tried not to flinch away when her warm cheek pressed onto your thigh. You carded your fingers through her hair, making a mental list of all the things you’d need to grab and make sure to do, the first of which being calling her out of training. Once you had texted the other captains, trusting them to pass the message along to the coaching staff, you focused back on Alexia. 
“I’m sorry you don’t feel well. Let me get you some medicine, okay?” 
You tried to slide out of her grasp, but she wouldn’t budge. Her arms remained wrapped around your leg, her cheek firmly planted against it. “No. Stay. Need you.” She murmured, not making very much sense. 
“I’m not going anywhere, I just want to grab something to help you feel better.” You told her, smiling a bit at the pout on her face, and the way she shook her head into you. 
“No. You make me feel better. Stay.” She insisted, pressing herself even further into you as if to prove a point. As you were about to respond, though, you heard a soft ‘Mama!’ come over the baby monitor, and Alexia shot upright. “Mila.” She said raspily, clearly delirious with fever as she tried to climb out of bed. You stopped her, gently pushing her to lie back down. 
“No. Stay.” You echoed her words from before. “I’ll check on Meels, you stay here.” 
“Bring her?” Alexia asked, relenting as she flopped back onto the pillows. 
You shook your head sympathetically, though. “No, I don’t want you to get her sick.” 
Alexia frowned but nodded nonetheless, gesturing for you to go to the baby, who was still making quite the racket. “Give her a kiss for me.” Alexia said sadly.
Alexia drifted off while you went to check on your daughter, picking her up and frowning at the heat coming off her skin as well. She whined, flopping into your chest without saying a word. 
Your wife startled awake when you reentered the room, looking surprised and concerned at the sight of a very grumpy baby in your arms. She was still in her pajamas, her cheek resting on your shoulder as she pouted, clearly feeling as awful as her Mami did. 
“Amor?” Alexia questioned, sitting up with a grimace as her head pounded at the movement. 
“She’s sick too, I think. She’s got a fever and she’s all stuffed up.” You commented. “So you two can be sick in here together.” You handed Mila to Alexia, heart almost bursting at the sight of Alexia carefully cradling her daughter to her chest and resting a hand on her forehead. Mila was still frowning, though she snuggled into Alexia as soon as she could. 
Alexia looked up at you in a panic. “She is really warm! We need to take her temperature and give her medicine and something to eat, and maybe some water, and we should call the doctor just in case,” 
“I’ve got it. I’ll take care of both my girls.” You assured her, pressing a lingering kiss to her hot forehead. “Just sit here with her while I get some stuff for you both.” 
You rushed around the house, gathering the thermometer, some crackers, adult and baby medicine, and snagging Mila’s plush bear that she was rather obsessed with, before heading back to your bedroom. You walked in, not really looking up at your wife before dumping everything onto the bed, and picking out the thermometer. You turned to Alexia, ready to wrangle her into letting you take her temperature, only to find her sniffling, her eyes suspiciously glossy. 
“Ale?” You said softly, stepping closer to cup her face in your hand. “Why are you crying?” 
“Did I get her sick?” Alexia asked tearfully, staring down at the slumbering baby. “Is she sick because of me?” 
You repressed a sigh, instead opting to lean forward and kiss your wife’s forehead. “Ale, you got sick today. You can’t have gotten her sick if she came down with it at the same time.” 
“Oh. Right.” Alexia sniffled. She settled back into the pillows, her arms keeping Mila held tightly against her. “I knew that. I can barely think straight, my head is all cloudy.” 
She sounded miserable, and you thought back to a time where Alexia would only admit what was wrong once she hit her absolute breaking point. 
You hadn’t thought about it, until that day, that in the entire year you’d been with Alexia, you’d never seen her sick. Either the woman had an insane immune system, or she didn’t let you see her sick. But with an important training session today, Alexia couldn’t avoid you like she normally would have. And for some reason, she was having a harder time than normal pretending she was okay. 
Her movements were sluggish, her eyes squinting from the sun in a way they normally never did. She’d barely had any water, and her hands shook whenever she pointed out where she wanted the ball. Everyone could see it, but no one had the guts to tell their captain that she looked like she shouldn’t be training. 
Well, no one but you. You’d watched on for long enough, hoping that she would take a break for herself, without anyone having to make her, but after she pushed away a water bottle handed in her direction, opting instead to glare off into the distance, you were tired of waiting. Her face had grown alarmingly pale, suddenly devoid of any color despite the high temperatures. Training was almost done anyway, and you quietly asked the coach for permission to try to get Alexia to step away and go home with you early. He easily agreed, able to see like everyone else that your girlfriend was barely still on her feet. It was alarming that she didn’t notice you speaking to him, even more alarming when she didn’t move even an inch when you grabbed her hand in yours. Normally, she didn’t like to be very physical with you at work, wanting to remain professional. 
“Ale?” You said gently. She just grunted in response, staring off at the sky with her jaw clenched. “Come on, baby.” 
You’d correctly clocked that she wasn’t speaking, for whatever reason, so she was unable to argue with you as you began to pull her towards the locker room. Her hand was clammy in yours, and she stumbled slightly next to you as you both walked. You wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. Only when you arrived in the changing room did you let go, guiding her to sit down on the bench in front of her locker. 
“Alexia?” You prompted, crouching down in front of her. She looked at you for the first time, eyes filling with tears. Hastily, you placed both your hands on her knees, trying to soothe her. “Talk to me.” 
“I… I might be a little sick.” She managed, blinking hard. “I’m okay, though. Really.”  
“Alexia.” You fixed her with a look which only made her look like a defiant toddler. 
She frowned at you, not used to being called out on the bullshit she spewed when she was sick. “It’s just a little… insect?” 
“A little bug.” You corrected with a smile, rubbing your thumb across her cheekbone affectionately. “Tell me your symptoms.”  
“No-”
“Alexia, we have a match this weekend and if you want to be better in time, you need to tell me how sick you are so I can help.” 
Alexia’s frown deepened, but she relented, dropping her head as she spoke. “Throat hurts. Really bad.” She croaked, coughing weakly into the crook of her elbow. “Head. Stomach. Nose is all… stuffed.” 
She seemed genuinely distraught to be so ill, like her body had betrayed her, which you supposed it had. But this is what happened when you ran yourself into the ground, not that you’d tell Alexia that right now. That lecture could wait. 
“Okay. We’re going to go home, take a shower, take some cold medicine, and you’re going to go right to bed.” 
“Amor,” She whined, looking longingly back out at the training ground. 
You scoffed. “I’m not asking Putellas. Get your bag.” 
With a sigh and a glare sent your way, she slipped her boots off and her slides on as you did the same. She stood, bag slung over her shoulder, looking absolutely miserable as you both began to make your way to the car. You reached for her hand, a bit relieved when she intertwined her fingers with yours; she wasn’t really mad, then. It was silent for a few moments, before her raspy voice pulled you from your thoughts.  
“Amor? Can you carry my bag?” She asked quietly, her face burning with shame… or maybe that was just the fever. Either way, you smiled encouragingly at her, nodding and throwing her bag over your shoulder. It was one of the first times Alexia asked you for help in a genuine, meaningful way, and it made you ridiculously happy. 
Alexia didn’t seem to have the same reservations now as she did then, and for that you were grateful. She dutifully opened her mouth to let you take her temperature, her fingers fidgeting with Mila’s wisps of hair. The baby was out cold on her Mami, letting out the smallest and most adorable snores you’d ever heard in your life. 
The thermometer beeped and you pulled it away to check the little screen, frowning down at the result. 
“What?” Alexia asked, feeling irrationally worried that her fever would be high enough for her to need to go see a doctor. 
“I don’t know, Ale. This says you’re really hot.” You said, eyebrows knit together as you looked back up at her. 
“Too hot?” 
You forced yourself to remain serious. “Maybe we should see a doctor… but I’m not sure who specializes in making people less sexy?”
Alexia’s frown gave way to a small smile before she forced a glare back on her face. “Tonta. You scared me!” 
“You were frowning too much, I had to do something.” You laughed, patting her cheek affectionately. “Just a small fever, don’t worry. Move Mila a bit so I can get hers?”
Alexia shifted her arms protectively around the baby. “Amor she’s sleeping, don’t wake her.” 
You rolled your eyes, picking up the other thermometer, the one that went across the forehead. “This won’t wake her.” 
Alexia stared at you as you took Mila’s temperature, smoothing the thermometer across her forehead.  “Why didn’t you use that one on me?” She asked, borderline pouting at this point. 
“Your head is too big for it.” You said casually, reaching for the box that had Mila’s baby medicine in it. 
“Hey!” Alexia protested. “I have a regular sized head!” 
You chuckled, reading the label on the back of the box to yourself before giving Alexia your attention. “Ale, amor, that is a baby thermometer.” 
“Oh.” 
“Oh.” You mocked, dodging her hand as it came out to lightly hit your arm. “She has to take her medicine with food, but her fever isn’t too bad yet so I think we can let her sleep. You should eat something so you can take something, though.” 
Alexia grew pale at your words, and she shook her head. “No thank you.” 
“Not hungry?”Alexia shook her head again, lips pressed tightly together. “Are you nauseous?” 
This time, you got a small nod. You handed her her water bottle, instructing her to take small sips. “You’re probably dehydrated. Let me get you some electrolyte water.” 
“And cough drops, please. And a cool washcloth for my head. And one for Mila’s. And-”
“I’ll get it all, Ale, don’t worry.” You promised, amused as you always were at how easily Alexia now allowed you to take care of her. 
“Thank you, amor.” She called out sweetly, shifting under the covers so that her and Mila were nice and tucked in.
You shook your head, impressed with Alexia for her growth, and honestly with yourself for forcing it. She had, once, been the most difficult patient.
It was routine, at this point, for you to show up at Alexia’s the morning after a match, coffee and pastries in hand. You and Alexia both needed time to unwind by yourselves, so you each spent the night at your own apartments, before spending the entire off day together. Really, both of you wished deeply that there was no night away from each other, but the prospect of bringing that up and seeming clingy terrified you both out of saying anything. 
You knocked, as you always did, expecting your girlfriend to quickly answer the door, still cozy in her pajamas, all ready to spend the day the way she most liked; with you. This time, though, there was no audible movement from the other side of the door, no Alexia greeting you with a soft smile and a peck on the cheek. You knocked again, torn between worrying for Alexia, and worrying that, somehow, you’d completely missed some signal that she didn’t want you to come over today. 
Before you could knock for a third time, though, the door opened, just a crack. Alexia looked horrible, her face sickly pale and a sheen of sweat visible on her forehead. She had a deep frown set on her face, one that you immediately matched. 
“Ale-?”
“Go home. Please.”
The thought of feeling rejected didn’t even cross your mind, too concerned by the raspy sound of your girlfriend's voice, the squint of her eyes as she looked at you. 
“What’s wrong baby?” 
“Just a headache. I’ll be okay tomorrow.” She rasped, attempting to shut the door on you. You shoved your foot in just in time, hearing her sigh as she allowed you to push your way into her apartment. All the shades were drawn, every light off, and you quickly shut the door behind you, stopping the flood of light from the hallway. Alexia relaxed minutely after you did so, though she continued to try to get you to leave. “Amor, please. I just need quiet and sleep.” 
For a moment, you felt unsure of yourself. The last, and only, time you’d seen Alexia sick, it had been a quick 24 hour thing, and there wasn’t much you could do for her. There wasn’t much she’d let you do for her, other than dropping her off at home and allowing you to make sure she had cold medicine in her cabinet. 
You reached out, placing your hand on her arm, feeling slightly emboldened by the way she leaned into the contact. “You can have quiet and sleep even if I’m here taking care of you.” 
Alexia shook her head, grimacing at the motion. “No, it’s your day off. Go do something fun, you don’t have to be here with me.” 
You gave her an odd look, taking her hand in yours as you began to pull her back to her bedroom. “I want to be here. Besides, I won’t have any fun knowing you’re miserable here all by yourself.” 
“But amor,”
“No, Ale. I’m staying.” 
Acting more confident than you felt, you guided her towards her bed, shoving gently at her arms to get her to sit down on the edge. She slumped down, barely having the strength to hold herself up, let alone argue anymore with you. You sighed sympathetically, cradling her cheek in your hand. 
“Just a headache?” You asked doubtfully. 
Alexia let out a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a groan, opening her eyes to blearily look at you. “Maybe… maybe it is a migraine.” 
“Maybe.” You scoffed quietly, guiding her to lay down and pulling the covers up around her. “I’ll let you sleep in a minute, but have you taken anything?” 
Your girlfriend’s grimace deepened. “No. I do not need anything.” 
“Ale-”
“I said no.” Alexia snapped, guilt panging in her chest at the hurt look on your face. She knew, logically, that you were just trying to help but the prospect of taking medicine, of admitting that she really wasn’t okay was completely terrifying to her. She didn’t want to admit any weakness, especially not to you. She had to be the strong one. That was the role she’d always played in relationships, the role she played in life, and she didn’t intend for that to change now. 
Alexia had to be okay, so that she could make sure you were okay. 
Ridiculously, she felt tears cloud her eyes, a few threatening to fall as you turned around and walked out of her room without another word. She didn’t object, thinking that you were leaving, and she deserved nothing less with the way she’d treated you today. The blonde remained silent as she cried, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would lessen the pain in her head, and in her chest. Only now that you were gone did she realize how much she wanted you to just… be here with her. 
Too focused on breathing through her tears, she didn’t hear you walking back into the room until you were right next to the bed, thumb brushing a tear off her cheek. 
“You’re okay, love. You’re going to feel better soon, please just take these for me.” You requested, holding out your hand in which a few pills sat. Alexia’s eyes blinked open in surprise, her lip trembling as she looked up at you in wonder. She reached for the pills, still completely silent, taking them dry.  
“I am sorry.” She rasped after a second. You reached for her water, brows knitted together as you tried to work out what she was apologizing for. “You can go. You do not have to stay, I understand.” 
You shook your head, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and pushing her hair out of her face. It was down, probably only making her hotter, and you made a mental note to put it up for her when you had a second. 
“Ale, I told you. I’m not going anywhere.” You promised, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Can I get you to eat something?” 
Your girlfriend still looked very confused. “N-no. I tried to eat and it didn’t go well.” She blushed heavily at the statement, but you didn’t look phased at all, continuing to stroke her hair. 
“Okay. Just small sips of water then. Anything else you need, baby?” 
Again, Ale shook her head. “No, I am okay. I am fine, amor, please do not worry or feel like you have to stay, I really feel fine-”
You cut her off, covering her mouth with your hand. She looked affronted, and you fought back a smile. 
“I’m staying, Alexia. And please stop saying you’re fine, you aren’t. It’s okay, you don’t have to be fine.” 
The blonde just blinked at you before slowly nodding her head. Her eyes were beginning to droop, her grip on your shirt loosening just slightly. 
“Okay, close your eyes. I’m just going to grab one more thing and then I’ll be back.” 
It only took a few minutes for you to grab a small towel out of her linen closet and wet it with cool water before returning to her room. Alexia’s eyes weren’t shut. Instead, they were open, tracking your every movement as she fought sleep. She sighed in relief when you laid the towel across her forehead, though she still clearly refused to let herself sleep, gaze still fixed on you. 
“Thank you.” She said softly, the words feeling inadequate, yet the look in your eyes told her that you understood how grateful she was in that moment. 
“Of course, baby. Do you need anything else?” 
Alexia hesitated for a moment, stealing herself before she took a deep breath and patted the spot on the bed next to her hopefully. You smiled at her, the sunshine smile she always got lost in, the sight of it making the pain in her head dull for just a moment. 
Before getting under the covers with her, you took your shirt off and discarded it onto the floor, for your benefit as much as hers. Alexia was absolutely radiating heat, but you didn’t dare pull the covers away from her while she was awake. 
Finally, you slid into the bed with Alexia. Nudging the midfielder forward, you situated yourself behind her, allowing her to rest back against your body. Her warm cheek turn to settle against your chest, and even though the towel touching your skin gave you chills, you were happy to provide her a bit of comfort. 
“Feeling a bit better?” You asked, brushing a piece of hair away from her sweaty forehead. 
“Yeah.” She admitted. 
She really was. Her head already felt better from the medicine, her body temperature wasn’t as suffocating, and the comfort she got from the feeling of being held by you was inexplicable. 
“You are… good medicine.” She mumbled, hands resting over where yours lay across her stomach. 
You smiled, pressing a kiss into her hair. Sick Ale, when she wasn’t being ridiculously stubborn, was incredibly adorable. 
It was this same medicine that Alexia preferred, even now. Years had passed, and she still swore that laying in your arms made her feel better than any pill she could take. Evidently, Mila agreed, because she’d spent the day either sprawled across either Alexia’s chest or yours. 
She stubbornly turned away from the little cup of medicine you tried to get her to take, grumpily grumbling into her Mami’s shirt as she hid from you. 
“Mila,” you laughed, running your nails up and down her back. The baby just grunted, though she’d started talking in earnest recently, phrases and sentences coming along nicely though she preferred one word answers most of the time. “Come on, baby. It’ll make you feel better.” 
“No.” Mila declared, clinging tightly onto Alexia’s shirt as if her Mami wouldn’t make her take the medicine she so despised. Which, in any other case, would have been accurate. Now, though, Mila’s temperature was high and she looked completely miserable. The medicine was necessary, and you both knew it. 
“Mila, venga.” Alexia pried her baby’s hands off her shirt, turning her around so there was nowhere for her to hide. Mila promptly burst into tears at the sight of you still sitting on the edge of the bed, the red liquid in hand. Alexia shushed her, sitting up with a frown, growing paler as she did so. 
“Don’t want it,” Mila sobbed, looking pleadingly between you and your wife. 
Alexia looked at you, and you looked right back at her. Being sick wouldn’t get Alexia out of having to play the bad cop; you’d made it clear that Alexia couldn’t just rely on you to be strict with Mila after the 10th time she picked Mila up from her tummy time before she was done. 
“I’ll take it with you, cariño, sí? You take your medicine, and Mama will put on a movie for you, and you can have some ice cream. Okay?” 
You rolled your eyes at the bribery, though you really didn’t care and were moments off of doing the same thing. 
“Okay.” Mila huffed dramatically, glaring as you brought the medicine to her lips. “No! Mami first.” 
“Vale, vale” Alexia chuckled, taking the cup from your hand and tossing it back easily. Mila watched her closely, looking somewhat placated when your wife didn’t make a face. You refilled the cup, smiling proudly when Mila allowed you to tip it into her mouth. She made a face, spluttering unnecessarily at the taste. 
“Yucky!” She exclaimed, frowning at the bottle of children's medicine until you put it on the nightstand, out of sight. “Ice cream.” 
“Okay, princesa. Ice cream.” You agreed, kissing her on the forehead and heading out of the room, not thinking to glance at your wife’s face. 
Something you would regret when you entered the room again, the question of if Mila wanted sprinkles or not on the tip of your tongue, only to find the two and a half year old sitting by herself on the bed, eyes fixed on the TV. 
“Mila? Where is Mami?” You wondered, glancing towards the bathroom door but not seeing a light coming from underneath. 
Wordlessly, Mila pointed to the bathroom, entranced by the movie playing. 
With a frown you walked to the bathroom door, knocking and waiting a beat before pushing it open. Alexia was hunched over the toilet, trying in vain to keep the sound of her being sick quiet. 
“Oh, Ale,” you sighed, leaving the door open a crack behind you before crouching down at your wife’s side. 
She finished, leaning back into you with an exhausted sigh. You flushed the toilet and allowed your wife to settle back against your chest. 
“Joder.” She swore. “That medicine is horrible, mi amor. I almost threw up all over Mila.” 
You laughed, running your hand up and down her abdomen. “I’m sorry, love. You were very brave.” 
She pouted slightly, sitting up off you and attempting to climb to her feet. “I’m just glad Mila didn’t throw up.” 
You got up too, wrapping an arm around her waist when she took an unsteady step towards the door. “Ale, don’t say that yet–”
As you were about to finish your sentence, almost as if she understood comedic timing, Mila shouted out from the bedroom. 
“Mami! Don’t feel good,” she cried, a tremble to her voice that told you what was coming. Abandoning Alexia in favor of saving your sheets, you moved as fast as you could out of the bathroom and to Mila’s side, arriving just a second too late. You rubbed her back as she threw up onto the bed, cringing internally at what cleaning this up would entail. Alexia stepped out of the bathroom, face going white again at the sight in front of her, wordlessly holding out her arms for Mila. 
“Bath time, mija.” She said soothingly, picking her daughter up and looking at you. “I can change the bedding once–”
You rolled your eyes fondly, gently nudging her towards the bathroom door. “No, Ale. I’ll handle the bed. You get her cleaned up.” 
Alexia nodded wearily, knowing full well she would only be capable of getting Mila clean before she collapsed back onto the bed in exhaustion. Hopefully, onto some clean sheets. 
“Sorry, Mami.” Mila whimpered, clinging on tight to your wife as she was carried into the bathroom. 
“It’s alright, Mija. I threw up, too. It happens. We just have to rest until we feel better, vale?” 
You smiled, beginning to pull the sheets off the bed. Ale had come so far her somewhat self destructive habits fading with time, and with love from you. She liked to take care of herself, now, if for no other reason than to be a good example for her daughter. 
You ended up under the fresh sheets and covers an hour later, your wife settled between your legs, back to your chest. You ran your fingers through her hair and she did the same to Mila, her daughter laid directly on top of her, dressed in a clean, fuzzy onesie. Mila was so much like your wife, and you were grateful for that every day. 
“Cariño? Do you want to take some more medicine?” Alexia wondered, rubbing her hand over her daughter’s back. After the earlier… incident… you’d agreed not to push the medicine issue, especially since Mila’s fever had dropped. 
Mila frowned up at her Mami, shoving her face into Alexia’s shirt. 
“No. Cuddles.” She grumbled. 
Alexia chuckled, kissing the top of her daughter's head. 
“Sounds familiar.” You noted, smiling softly at the shy grin on your wife’s face. "She's just like you."
“Yeah.” She agreed. “Thank you, amor.” 
Whether she was thanking you for Mila, or also reminiscing on her old stubborn self, you didn’t know. You just kissed her temple, happy to have given it all to her. 
“I love you.” You told her. 
“I love you too.” She whispered back. 
“Me?” Mila piped up, sniffling as she sat up and looked at the two of you expectantly. You and Alexia both laughed, your wife pulling Mila back down to lay against her. 
“Of course you, too, silly.” You said. 
“We love you the most.” Alexia promised. 
this has been in my drafts for. at least 3 months. maybe more. hope you enjoy :)
834 notes · View notes
bunicate · 8 months ago
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⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍. lucifer x fem reader
warnings ꒱ྀི daddy kink. prbly excessive use of princess/little girl/human. size kink. praise. nipple sucking. fingering. possessive luci. unedited as usual. wc ꒱ 6k ノ 18+
note . . ᘏ⑅ᘏ ノ i dunno if this is even a repost anymore bcuz the original fic was only 2k words :c . . i also thought I wasn’t cwazy abt luci anymore but boy . . wus i wrong. i still luv him dearly. i hope anyone who reads this enjoys. thankuuu ^_^
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lucifer could never understand why humans, beings fettered by something as meaningless as mortality, could possess the ties to control and bind demons.
how such frail bodies of small messes, succumbing to sicknesses, phobias, and other little weirds are able to form pacts with such powerful creatures
it’s a polarizing thought that he’s never challenged or sought to change. he understands them for what they are. arguably worse than demons, and he wants nothing to do with them. they are violent, weak, and fickle, and somehow—in the irony of it all—the universe plays a trick on him.
he lowered his defenses and foolishly got ahead of himself. he was unlike his brothers; he didn’t need love or companionship, and yet, of all the powerful beings and creatures, it’s a human that turned him into something unrecognizable.
it was faceless, sneaking up on him, and he was unable to remedy it as he slowly felt it consume him whole.
a bond was webbed between the two of you, and he’s certain, frighteningly so, that nothing could break it.
granted, that level of trust surely didn’t form overnight, as you proved to be quite troublesome. you were used to peeking your nose where it didn’t belong and going into places mortals should never be, making his job more difficult, but still, he trusts you.
with six younger demon brothers and a human to look after, discord became frequent. secrets wrapped tightly were easily unveiled just from your existence in devildom.
he kept a mental checklist of all your wrongdoings, and now your invasion of his heart was another.
his heart.
nothing but proof of his existence, only meant to pump blood and oxygen, has now expanded far too much to fit within his ribcage. it was suffocating.
it made room for a different kind of love, for someone else, and he didn’t think it was possible. he became spoiled by your affections.
he yearned so much for you that he was convinced that his carnage and sadism might have withered. at least, that's what he thought, only to realize it’s been tucked away in a cavity that you simultaneously filled.
he’s unfortunately reminded that it never really went anywhere. he’s respected and feared by all, and yet it wasn’t enough to deter his brothers from causing any mishaps, especially one in particular.
♡ . . ♡
it’s dinner when lucifer decides to strike.
chatter and the smell of only the best food in devildom fill the room. he almost feels bad for souring the joyful atmosphere—almost, but as always, there's an impending conflict that would render him irritable for the rest of the night.
he sits at the head of the table as the eldest brother and strongest demon, earning everyone's stare from the shift in the atmosphere. you and his brothers could sense that he wasn’t going to make a meager announcement. lucifer moves slowly, careful to prevent any of his heedless anger from slipping through.
he looks at everyone in the room, but his gaze lingers on you a bit longer.
“forgive me for interrupting dinner, but it’s come to my attention that someone here has stolen something valuable of mine.” his voice is deep, stern, and accusing. it echoes in the candle-lit hall.
“my credit card.”
maybe it's his sadistic streak, but he knew asking that question was ultimately trivial. he knows which of his brothers is guilty; you all did.
there’s only one demon dumb and desperate enough to steal from lucifer of all people, and while the perpetrator was obvious, it didn’t make anyone any less anxious.
the avatar of pride is infamous for his punishments, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end. when anything goes amiss, they must answer to him, and you were no exception to that rule.
you point your manicured finger at mammon, and his expression morphs into utter terror. he yelps at your tattling, already plotting at least three different ways to make his escape.
“oh my,” asmo laughs.
belphie yawns obnoxiously, unamused by the series of events. it was just another typical night in the house of lamentation; nothing should surprise anyone, and still, lucifer let a troubled sigh escape.
mammon throws a fit of indignation, as if his culpability wasn’t already obvious.
tossing his hands in the air, he whines, “damn it. why’d ya’ have to tell?” he slides down the seat of the chair, trying to avoid lucifer’s angered stare as much as possible.
you don’t think to reply, almost even rolling your eyes at him. everyone knows it’s him, and like the well-behaved girl you are, you figure it makes no sense to drag out the inevitable.
but when everyone’s eyes settle on you in curiosity, you slouch in your chair and blush at the sudden attention. you feel nervous, like you made a blunder of some sort.
they expectantly await your answer, but you don't have one.
“s-sorry, mammon,” you squeak out.
your hands in between your thighs and fidget under their stares.
you couldn’t, at least not confidently, admit that lucifer has you wrapped around his finger. he expects far too much of you, and you couldn’t possibly ruin that because of mammon, but that didn’t lessen the slight guilt from easing in.
“don’t apologize,” lucifer says, bolstering his voice—his attempt at scolding mammon while reassuring you.
“it’s not up to her to entertain your lies. perhaps if you weren’t always up to no good, she wouldn’t have to confess to your wrongdoings,” he lectures.
he sneers at him, and you watch as the younger demon slinks back further. “you’re the second oldest. act like it.”
mammon huffs.
“ahhh, lucifer, you’re no fun.”
admittedly, the brothers would get away with a lot more if it weren’t for your honesty.
make no mistake, they all love you dearly, but the troublemakers couldn’t tolerate your obedience when it comes to lucifer.
when he asked you who ate all the food satan prepared for breakfast the next day, you didn’t hesitate to say it was beel. when he asks you who wrote ‘lucifer sucks :p’ on his wall, you don’t stutter to inform him of satan’s and belphie’s not-so-secretive plan of his tormentation.
anything he wants, anything he asks, you obey. that was just the nature of your relationship.
after mammon realizes pouting won’t get him out of trouble with lucifer, he goes back to eating, and the others follow suit. soon the lively atmosphere returned, but you felt rather self-conscious.
you looked over at lucifer in the hope of finding something that you're weren't sure of yet, only to see that he was already staring at you. you nibble on your spoon, suddenly feeling bare from his lowered gaze.
there is a sense of security that you crave. his look of approval serves as a reminder of why you’re faithful to him. it was rewarding to know that your loyalty didn’t go unnoticed.
you look away quickly to hide your flusteredness by sipping on your tea, but the sweet taste of earl gray isn’t enough to distract you.
dinner begins to slow and wrap up. one by one, everyone bids their goodbyes. mammon is the first to depart, knowing he’d need as much of a head start as possible. when you finish the remainder of your dinner, you get up to leave as well.
you think about how to spend the rest of your evening, and your mind wanders to cramped thighs and ruined pillows.
you grow heated by the memory of previous nights. you touched yourself too many times to count after constantly witnessing lucifer’s disheveled state after his long day of reprimanding.
you stuffed your cunt with your fingers nightly, trying to mimic the feeling of something much larger. it was difficult to commit such acts quietly in a home full of creatures with nearly perfect hearing, and still, you wonder what fantasy will tether you tonight.
maybe the one when he fucks you in diavolo’s office, or your personal favorite, he punishes you.
you fantasize about him pulling up your dainty dress to put you over his lap and spank your plump ass until cum soaks your thighs, but tonight, you don’t have to conjure up anything.
lucifer stops you in the middle of your daydream. grabbing your wrist gently, he catches you by surprise.
you clumsily turn. frazzled eyes meet unwavering carmines. you’re almost certain he could hear the thump beating between your legs.
the prideful demon pulls you close, forcing your bodies to collide and connect like missing pieces. his breath is warm against your ear.
“would you like to come by my chambers later tonight?”
you look up to search his face, wondering if there’s even a sign of doubt. after countless days and nights and all sorts of muddled feelings between sheets, there is a part of you that can’t truly accept that he sought you.
one of the most eligible bachelors in all of devildom, known for his fearsomeness, is holding you like you were glass, asking for your company.
you soak in his expression, and it’s nothing less than firm and impenetrable, and it's then that you realize it was not a question. he was not asking.
struck with a whirlwind of desire from that revelation, you nod weakly, but the demon only shakes his head in response.
“words, my little human.”
your head tilts on its axis only for a moment. your chest had to be wide open, bearing your insides to him. the effect he had on you must have been that obvious. you’re a puddle.
was it normal to feel the static every time he was around, after every word he spoke?
you feel hazy, but also a small sense of relief that you no longer have to question if he still wants you. you’ve exhausted your fingers and toys, and finally, what you have been needlessly craving would be fulfilled in a room only a few doors down. his gaze flickers to your lips, and they shine with promise.
you mustered up all the courage you had left.
“yes, i would love to come by later.”
you’re amazed that it didn’t come out as wobbly as you anticipated. you’ve gotten better at pretending, you suppose.
lucifer gives you a sweet smile. he’s pleased with your answer, and butterflies erupt in your full belly.
his gloved hand then completely engulfs yours to bring it to his lips. not once breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckle before he departs. a hopeless romantic.
he sets out to find mammon, and that gives you enough time to prepare.
you stalk up the stairs, declining levi’s invitation for a night of competitive gaming pitifully on the way. you’ll make it up to him next time.
by ushering yourself into your room, you act immediately. you don’t spend too long getting ready. a steaming, hot shower would suffice. you wash up with a bar of gentle soap, then follow through with too many to-count spritzes of perfume and faint-smelling lotion.
white with pastel pink trim.
your night clothes are simple and short enough to keep him on his toes. you look over at yourself in the mirror.
when did you become so daring ? you didn’t know. maybe asmo’s tips on charm and seduction were finally rubbing off on you. you wonder what his reaction would be if you told him you were using them on his brother. maybe he already knew.
you turn off your light and open your door. you peek down the hall.
it’s silent and empty, just as you predicted.
quietly, you shut the door, cursing to yourself when you hear the faint cry of the rusty hinges. your trek down to his room was anxiety-inducing, but in a good way. you feel refreshed, your body is more than ready, and you’re excited.
you hoped no one would drop by unexpectedly. beel would most likely wake up in the middle of the night for a snack, but the kitchen was in the opposite direction of lucifer’s room. not that it mattered anyway.
it wasn’t really a secret—not that those lasted with you around—but it would be. . . awkward. you’d much rather not have to deal with anyone overhearing all the naughty things you’ll beg him to do.
you stop your train of thought when you reach the end of the hallway. you’re in front of his door, and you sway from your heels to your tippy toes. the fluttery ache in your chest was making you skittish.
you take a breath to compose yourself, and then you knock with three light taps.
“come in”
it takes a good chunk of your strength to open his heavy door, but you appreciate the time it grants you. it gives you the space to calm yourself down and ease your prickly nerves.
when you enter, you let your eyes wander around the room first. nothing but books, old records, and silhouettes of things you couldn’t make out in the dark. you walk in and find him leaning against his unusually messy desk.
there's soft light from the lamp that hugs his frame and illuminates his coat discarded on the nearby dresser.
he fiddles with the strap of his gloves, giving you a small smile at the sight of your presence.
“you don’t have to knock, my love.”
he allows his gaze to explore, drinking in the outfit you picked out specifically for him. already, his trousers are suffocating and distracting him, but he’s quick to recover.
you bite your lip out of habit under his lustful stare.
“i know, but i wanted to just in case you were busy . . .”
there’s an amused huff.
his long legs carry him over to where you stand swiftly. his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, and he presses a kiss against your forehead.
“sweet girl.” and the way it skirts the edge of sensuality could make you melt. “even if i am, feel free to steal me away,” he whispers.
you swallow down a moan at the thought. maybe one day he'll eat those words.
his hand trails from your face to the nape of your neck and pauses.
“you washed your hair,” he observes.
you shake your head.
“it got a little wet in the shower so I’m just letting it air dry for a bit, luci.”
you pull at a wet strand and watch it dutifully bounce back in place. “ i was too lazy to dry it.“
he watches the notion with careful eyes. you wanted to giggle at how serious he looked.
“i wish you would’ve asked me to help you. i don’t want you getting a cold.”
you smile at his sincerity. you realized very early on that lucifer enjoyed tending to you. he likes consistency and being depended on.
‘it’s for your own well-being,’ he says, but you think he likes to have a pretty girl to fuss over
you offer him a small pout. “i did think about it, but i assumed you were still scolding mammon. i didn’t want to bother you.”
“besides.” you turn away, “i don’t think he wants to see me right now”
already, you’re embarrassed by the thought of facing mammon again. flustered, you recall tonight’s dinner and the look on their faces. you are definitely going to avoid them at school tomorrow.
you slouch, "he totally hates me.”
you say it half-heartedly, but lucifer looks at you with seriousness.
he softly grabs you by your chin. “don’t speak like that. he doesn’t hate you—none of us do, and i’m not sure we are capable of harboring such thoughts.”
you smile. “i dunno. i’m pretty sure you guys hated my guts when i first came.” you chuckle, thinking he’d at least join in, but he frowns. his heavy hand strokes the top of your head in an affectionate rhythm.
“we had our differences, and i was far too harsh. that i know.”
there’s a faraway look in his eye, and you know there’s a silent storm forming. you reach out to cup his cheek, and he melts into your touch.
“i never hated you,” he says.
you knew that your actions played a part in straining the early stages of your relationship. you also had to come to terms that not only lucifer, but multiple brothers harbored resentment towards humans,
its not a perfect story, but everything about this was completely unconventional. you’re just a woman who somehow found herself stuck in an attempt at other-worldly diplomacy, now sandwiched between the trying relationships of seven powerful demons.
things are rocky, but it’s the happiest you’ve ever been.
“i was only teasing, luci. i'm not mad or scared anymore.”
the hand you rested on his cheeks gets gripped by his larger ones, and he kisses your palm fondly.
“besides, i think we both know i wasn’t completely innocent.”
he takes a deep inhale.
“still, i think about how things were before.” he recalls the past in disdain; he blames his pride and then himself.
“my brothers and i . . . we are devoted to you, and we have the pacts to prove it.”
it’s a provocation you’re still not entirely used to. you had 7 demons who offered themselves to you, and the proof is imprinted on their skin.
in the human world, you’re everything and nothing at the same time. feelings of loneliness and insecurity that are far too loud and are still not enough to matter. you realized everyone lived selfishly, and your heart wasn’t hardened enough to follow suit.
lucifer's thoughts about humans didn’t change, despite his proximity to you. talks of your life as a young girl only cemented his thinking.
you were far too perfect for humans, too devious for angels, and too innocent for demons.
you were an entity on your own, and scarily he worshiped you. all of you.
he’d never tire of sinking his cock into your wet cunt, filling you with his seed, and hearing those saccharine moans that fall from glossed lips. he was ravenous, but you truly didn’t know the extent of it.
“my brothers care for you deeply, as do i, but you must know.” his eyes seem darker and much more predatory, and you can’t bring yourself to look away. like a bunny trapped in a hunter's cage, your doe eyes double in size and tremors rattle through your frame.
“you’re mine alone. your mind and body belong to only me.”
lucifer is well aware that six other cocks competed for your attention. a crass choice of words, but nothing less than true. they vied for the human girl, with nearly everyone wrapped around her dainty fingers. you are a color in the world shrouded in sisyphean darkness.
his lips part on your skin. “they can touch and taste you because i allow it.”
rough hands pull up your skirt, and he grabs a handful of your ass. “this . . . this is all mine.”
you make sure to turn and give your butt a little wiggle. it's more than a sultry gesture, and lucifer thinks a human so docile posing erotically might be the one thing to kill him.
how do you make soiled underwear look so pretty and enticing? there’s a possessive streak, a soft darkness that opens its curtains upon your presence. it peers over his shoulder, urging him to devour you. to pick at your remains until he’s consumed you.
“you're beautiful,” he groans. he inches close to you, and you think your lips are going to meet halfway, but he kisses your forehead.
then, your eyelids, your nose, and the side of your mouth, you look at him with half-lidded eyes, and he doesn’t budge when you try to squirm.
lucifer steps back and leads you to his chair. he settles into the squeaky leather until his back is comfortably cushioned.
he pats his firm lap.
“come.”
you know he’s holding back. his muscles ripple beneath you, he slouches farther into his chair, his legs spread to give his groin space to freely twitch against the slackness of his pants, and it only invites you
you struggle to decide where to sit. his knee or over his lap, both very promising positions, but he decides for you. he pulls your hip so your cunt is nestled right up against his cock. you sigh breathily, already your brain turning to mush.
“i didn’t even touch you, and you’re already making such a mess, sweet girl.”
the angle you tilt your head hides your expression, but from the flutter of your lashes and the purses of your lips, he knows you’ve grown shy.
"you kissed me,”
your sweet tone and your faint aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine make his cock stir.
“is that why you’re so worked up? just from my kiss?”
not even on the lips—not yet at least, and you’ve already wetted the fabric with your sticky arousal.
“what will happen when daddy touches right here?”
it’s a feathery graze against your protruding bud. his knuckles nudge the seat of the moist cotton, right where the white turned nearly transparent against your swollen cunt.
“it aches, doesn’t it?”
slender fingers slip under the band teasingly. he studies the subtle twitch of your hole, pumping a stream of glossy slick.
“do you want me to make it go away, hm? do you want daddy to make it better?”
you nod, a broken moan falling from your trembling lips.
“ i wantmore daddy.”
you spread your legs wider, hoping he’d be more generous with his caress.
“soon, my love.”
his hands trail from your pants to your stomach to your shoulders.
his hands rub your stomach and under your breast, settling right on your hip. you know he is hyper-aware of the thin fabric separating his cock from your heat.
even in his lap, he’s taller than you, but only by a few inches. his eyes are low and hazy.
“i wish to take my time with you.”
his thumb trails over your nipple.
“you have no idea how much i missed you.”
his other fingers pull at the other nipple.
you’ve felt those same digits on your neck, in your mouth, curled around your wrist and threaded between your fingers, and now between your thighs
he begins to grope at your exposed flesh. he admires how supple they appear, and he has to restrain himself from sinking his teeth into them.
your body never falters, and it responds so well to his hot and addicting touch. lucifer tries not to tease you; after all, he is rewarding you, but the little sounds and pants that leave your lips almost make him rethink.
your skirt is wrinkled, and he flips it at your hip, and your entire bottom half is almost fully exposed. your bare legs are on display, and so is your clothed mound. he mumbles sweet praises into the side of your breast while tracing the outline of your pussy through your pants with his finger.
you pull him away from your chest to kiss him, and lucifer has to remember that you’re human. that your small and pouty mouth, which struggles to swallow, is as fragile as the rest of you. palms splayed about on your back remind him he can mold you.
his hands are in a constant of motion, tugging and squeezing at your flesh. it feels like he’s in awe of every part of your body no matter how it differs from his. his touches are messy and yet controlled. they search you in subtle restraint, fearful that they’ll hurt you.
you’ve never been touched this way. to have someone want you so desperately— to possess you almost. his hands are burning you and you feel on top of the world.
you moan at his caress and feel heat rush through your body. if it weren’t for the lack of air in his lungs, he’d never pull away but eventually he does. lucifer experimentally probes your clit and looks up at your face to admire your expression.
“do you like that?” he whispers. you bite your lip, and your voice raises in pitch, “mhm.”
lucifer smirks to himself and kisses your nipple. “what did i say about words, little one?”
he stops his ministrations on your cunt and licks at your areola teasingly. he settles the tip of his tongue on your heated bud, flicking it, sending a shiver down your spine.
“is my good girl acting up?.”
“n-no, daddy, never.”
between each breath, he plants open-mouthed kisses across your chest.
“i hope so. i would hate to have to punish you.”
he sucks diligently and roughly. his tongue aggressively strokes your nipple, addicted to how it feels in his mouth. he closes his eyes and continues his assault on your chest.
your soft cries filled his room, and the feeling of your teat on the surface of his wet muscles pleased him. the aforementioned headache was long gone because the plushness of your body took over his mind and soul.
you may feel an indescribable urge to obey him, but he's just as much under your spell as you’re under his. he’s the embodiment of pride, but he’s not against admitting that you invade every inch of him. you don’t know it yet, but anything you ask of him, he will deliver. he wonders if you could hear his heart thrumming against his chest.
you’re naked, but he feels equally as exposed.
he continues sucking on one breast, his other hand busied itself, rubbing the neglected one. you arch into his touch, your tit spilling out of his hand. the weight of it feels secure in his large palm.
the stimulation has you unruly within his embrace. one minute, your hips are still from his flicks at your pussy, and then it jerks up, wanting more from his skilled and wandering hands.
lucifer likes this side of you, desperate and unashamed of how you wanted him to use your body.
you’re so sensitive that any subtle movement sends pressure to your clit. every time you whimper, especially loudly, he's quick to praise you.
“such lovely noises. i bet you’d do anything to please me, hm?” he hums.
you remember his earlier warning eager to be on your best behavior. “yes, daddy.”
it was hard to verbalize but you were at his mercy. anything for his approval, anything for his praise, you’d do it, especially if it meant you’d get rewarded like this.
he then pulls up your soaked panties, and you gasp at the sudden gesture. they stretch across the surface of your wet pussy, and they snap from his brute strength. the break in the fabric spanking your cunt.
“what a pretty thing.”
he tosses your ripped panties to the floor, ruining your perfect set. but he’d buy you another.
“i just want to be your good girl,” you say, rubbing your legs together in anticipation.
“you’re always my good girl. isn’t that right?”
you nod and feel happiness bloom.
“the best girl for daddy,” lucifer sensually encourages.
at this rate, you’re dizzy and drunk on his intoxicating words and erotic touch. you’re babbling, and lucifer finds it endearing.
you whine when he finally takes his gloved finger and rubs slow and tight circles on your slippery bud. “dada—.” you cry especially loud.
“i know, i know,” he shushes.
you felt relief consume you at the friction of his gloves on your trembling cunny. he continues to rub and fiddle with it until you’re forced to bury your mewls into the crook of his neck.
he takes another finger and presses down on your twitchy button, and you flinch at the sudden burst of pleasure.
he knows your body like the back of his hand, and he knows how to make you fall apart. his finger continues to work on your sensitive nub, and you gradually begin to soak his lap with your arousal.
he drags his fingers over your labia and grazes over your desperate hole.
within a few strokes, he plunges two fingers into your heat. he watches you push your tits into his face from the pleasure that forces the arch in your back. and he takes a deep inhale. your pussy greedily latches onto his fingers, and you’re practically fucking his hand.
“you look so delicious in my lap. such a beautiful sight, and it's reserved for only me.”
the depth of his voice sends shudders through your body
he loved how his fingers slid right in. it felt like your pussy was made to take what he gave you. his big fingers fervently stroke your insides, and your legs shake.
just watching your tiny hole stretch to the width of his fingers threatened his self-control. he wanted to fill you with something much bigger, and he’d know you would take it because you're his precious girl.
he wants to see your cunt wrapped around his heavy cock, but he’d settle for now.
just seeing you so pliant in his arms from his tongue lapping at your breast and his large fingers was enough for him.
you drip all over his wrist, and it darkens his gloves.
lucifer’s fingers rub every soft ridge, and your cunt is more than happy for it. the wetness, the squelch, the tightness—it’s overwhelming for you. you feel as if you’re finally unraveling.
"i'm going to cum, daddy. please." you don’t know what you're begging for, but whatever he was willing to do, you needed it now.
lucifer knows you’re close—very close. you’ve nearly gone stiff, and you’re shaking against him. your toes are curled, and your first is clutched.
“oh, is this princess’ pussy going to make a mess?” he coaxes. you open your mouth, moaning, and lucifer leans down. your foreheads are touching, and you unabashedly mewl, your minty breath fanning his face. “is she going to cream for me?”
you feel your orgasm sneaking up on you. lucifer only increases the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunny. he becomes more brutal, only wanting you to be within his arms as his only goal.
he’s so close to you that your lashes touch his skin. sweat simmers on your chest, and he sucks on your now bruised bottom lip from all your biting.
with two fingers still buried inside you, stroking your walls, he presses his thumb to your clit once more.
“that’s it, it’s pretty girl.”
you felt it coming; you had ample time, and you tried to keep yourself contained, but the force was still too unbearable. you had no idea how much he was holding back.
“i’m so much bigger than you. so much stronger, and you’re so little, princess.” he chuckles in a state of disbelief.
“and you’re not even scared.”
“you’re too trusting, but i suppose that’s why i love you so much. daddy’s brave little girl.”
like a lick of lightning, lucifer feels his desire threaten to snap. his human—his sweet mess full of little weirds, kind eyes, and a soft mouth was going to make him lose himself. he's growling like a beast with every chant of his name.
“daddydaddydaddy —hiccup— love you lots, b-but. i-i can’t think anymore. can’t take it.”
drool collects on the side of your mouth.
“i know it’s a lot for you right now, but you’re doing so well, princess.”
he re-adjusts your body on his lap. “just think about daddy and his fingers.”
the appendages stretching your cunt pull out briefly.
“look at that precious pussy.”
he spreads your labia watching the uneasy throb of your hole that begged to be stuffed.
lucifer wants to mount you, but he remembers what he is when he can smell the blood pumping through veins and the feeling of your heartbeat under the tips of his fingers.
he needs to treat you like a prized dolly to dress up, to kiss, and to fuck.
you don’t need to think; he knows what’s best, and he wants to keep you on a shelf for his own use.
you made him a beast, luring him into darkness, but he was never good at hiding. he felt like he was defiling you. you were truly an entity different from anything he’s ever known. sweet as brown sugar, and he’s tainting you.
still, the thrust of his arms grows stronger. nothing but the milky, wet sounds of your drenched cunt
“your little pussy is crying. you can let go for me.”
your hearts swell with another wave of heat. the sweet babbles of you wanting to reciprocate his love die on your tongue when your body stills. you toss your head back with a pretty wail nearing your crescendo. noisily, his fingers pump your pussy with trickles of wetness spurting out.
your hips jolt forward and erratically hump the heel of his palm, hoping to reach your end much sooner.
“m right there, —!”
he's going to make you cum hard. everything from the sound of his voice to his rough fingers to the shape of his cock could make you cream. his skill never fails you, always leaving you nearly boneless. you’re always going to come crawling back for more, without a doubt.
lucifer feels your walls pulsate around him, warning him of your impending orgasm, and it strokes his ego.
“daddyyyy,” you pant deliriously. his thumb drags at your clit repeatedly and with the sensation of your insides being drained, you sob. you’re too loud, but you can't remain silent any longer.
lucifer kisses your forehead to soothe you, and with a slight pinch of your throbbing cunt, you erupt in the middle of his embrace. the dam finally breaks, and your pussy convulses angrily like it's trying to push his fingers out.
“thaaaaat’s it, baby. daddy is so proud of you.”
he increases his pace, draining you of all the cum your cunny could pump out. until your knees buckle around his wrists.
your chest expands, desperate for more air. your head is fogging up, and you’re exhausted. your limbs are strewn across the demon, lacking complete strength.
lucifer lets you cool off from your high, and he slips his fingers out of you. without hesitation, he buries them into his mouth. the taste of you fills his taste buds to utter satisfaction. you're delicious, sweet and sour, and addicting. he would inject the very essence of you into his veins if he could. but maybe he's already hooked on you; that would explain his racing mind filled with thoughts of only you.
this demon that he’s become terrifies him, but he doesn't want to change. his family and his precious human are all he needs.
he wraps you up in his arms and hugs you. your back is now pressed into his chest, eyes closed blissfully. lucifer tucks your head under his chin, and you rest safely in his hold.
he silently admires the number he did on your body and feels the familiar feeling of pride bursts within him. he looks at your beautiful face, your puffy nipples, and used pussy and he feels gratified fulfillment engulf him.
“perfect human,” he mumbles.
he graces you with another kiss on your heated skin.
“my obedient little girl.”
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livin4woso · 2 months ago
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She's just a softie (aitana bonmati x buff! reader)
Summary- reader has created quite a known track record to be scary on and off the pitch with even some teammates being scared of your size. However, aitana sees you for what you really are a big softie, yet her teamates don't believe it until they see it.
Your whole life to anyone who didn't know you would suggest you lived in the gym. Your toned body speaks for itself, showing the hard work you put in each day. Then, later in life came along the tattoos that were littered across your body with a new one appearing on your skin ever so often.
All this combined left you to be scary looking person and you're naturally shy and introverted behaviour was instead mixed up with the ideas of you being cocky and arrogant towards people which was far from the truth yet people were intimidated by your presence and never tried to cross paths with it.
However there was one person who saw beyond the looks and that was aitana she was never scared of your 5,11 ft muscly tattooed build she saw you for the real you a shy nerdy girl who was a big softie. It was quite a funny site for the girls at barca when they found out you were together yet they still didn't believe you were good enough for her.
"Oh come on, aita, you can do so much better someone who isn't self obsessed and is so arrogant that she won't even talk to us," frido said when they were walking down the tunnel to training. "Look you have no idea what y/n is like and the answer is no i won't because too me she is nothing what you think she is and i will prove it too you" aitana replied storming off from her friend. She knew her friends wouldn't approve, but they had never given you the chance to even speak, and because you're too shy to speak first, you just never did.
You and aitana had been dating for around 6 months when she decided to prove everyone you were not as tough as people thought you were. It was a long day at training and secretly aitana had planned for team bonding at your shared apartment too show you were a big softie for her.
"Im tired aita please can we cuddle on the couch" you asked walked into the living room "mhm sure bebe just go shower and change then we can" she replied kissing your cheek while standing on her tip toes to reach. As you went to shower she had text for the girls too come round for an hour later and had given frido and ingrid a key to let themselves in as she knew she wouldn't be able to open the door with you lay on her.
After both of you were ready. You practically threw the smaller girl on the couch and dropped yourself on top of her. "Can you play with my hair please" you asked giving her puppy eyes that she couldn't resist. "Of course amor just relax and go to sleep I'll wake you later" she said as her fingers carded gently through your hair. It took about 10 minutes until your breaths evened out and were tickling aitanas neck.
As she sat on her phone scrolling through social media, she heard the key unlock the door when her 3 friends had opened the door. It was ingrid mapi and frido who had arrived first and walked towards the living room. However, when walking through what was once just aitanas apartment, they noticed the subtle changes of the additions of lego sets and old comics scattered across the room, which obviously didn't come from aitana. Then they reached the couch, and thats where they saw it. Your larger figure wrapped around aitana clinging onto her like she would disappear if you let go.
Frido was stood mouth agape and ingrid was pulling a similar face then mapi was so in shock she even went and took a photo of how yous were laying on the couch together. "See i told you she was a big softie, she's just really shy and a bit nerdy if you haven't caught on to the new decorations in the rooms" aitana said with a shit eating grin on her face knowing she'd proved all her friends wrong. "So you're telling me that theee y/n y/l/n is infact a massive nerd and isn't cocky but rather scared to talk to us" frido said almost in a state of shock which aitana just nodded in response.
As more piled in from the team, each with a similar reaction. The volume in the room getting gradually louder, which caused you to stir from your sleep "aita whys it so noisy in here? Have you got the tv on full volume?" You asked groggily, lifting your head from the crook of her neck to find your whole team in your living room."erm how long have yous been here?" You asked your cheeks flushing a dark shade of red in embarrassment. "Long enough to know you're not so tough as you look and aitana makes you a massive teddy bear," mapi responded, causing the room to break into laughter.
Safe to say after that day, no one questioned yours and aitanas relationship, and since then, the team realised your true self, the one aitana had seen in the first place.
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disneyprincemuke · 8 months ago
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she's the man * vr dts special
what does netflix have to say about the first and only woman to make it on the grid in almost 2 decades?
warnings: danica patrick jumpscares
notes: hi im procrastinating my assignment that's due tomorrow so i'm making this for you guys <3 and this is so...? poorly written is what i'm trying to say bye
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[will buxton] there is a new team on the grid: andretti's appeal to be the 11th team on the grid was approved early last year. there was a lot of talk about who they could hire in their driver lineup. nobody expected sebastian vettel, who literally just retired from being an f1 driver, to be stepping into the shoes of a race engineer. and to take a chance on a rookie driver...
what did you want me to say? she looks down at the clapperboard that's been handed over to her, lifting it up and down as she tries to ease her nervousness. [producer] introduce yourself first and we'll take it step by step from here. she nods and presses her lips together with a smile. hi. i'm driving for andretti racing for the 2023 season and i am the first female on the grid in almost 20 years.
[sebastian vettel] i... you know, i realised i have nothing to do if i don't race. so i took up the job with one exception – they allow a rookie into the team.
-> bahrain, 2023
she smiles, tapping her card onto the reader. she just waves at the crew ahead of her, cameras held up and lenses pointed directly at her as she walks alongside logan and oscar.
i'm a little nervous, of course – i didn't think i'd get this far. in all honestly, i thought f2 was the furthest i'd get when it came to racing. but i'm lucky. sebastian is taking a big gamble putting me in an f1 car this year.
[danica patrick] a woman in f1? i don't expect that will go well overall. does she even have the aggressiveness to be driving alongside these men who, for them, things like these come naturally.
-> abu dhabi, 2022
"well, would you look at that? the sole woman on the grid has made it to the podium. and that would," there's a pause from crofty, taking a deep breath as a smile spreads his lips, "award her as a runner-up in the drivers' championship slightly ahead of liam lawson. she's driven amazing all year round and it's just a wonder if she will ever make it further than formula 2 if she can produce these results at this level of racing."
[susie wolff] she's amazing behind the wheel. toto and i have watched a couple of her races over the years. it's an experience to have her around every weekend beside big household names like lewis hamilton and max verstappen. if her team can give her a good enough car to produce massive results, or she outperforms everyone's expectations this year, it could be very telling for the sport. and it sure opens a lot of opportunities for new generations of racers to come.
[sebastian vettel] well, she produces the results you'd want in a race car driver. i'd like to change the course of things around here, so there was no question that i'd vouch for her to get in a car with the best of the best. she's been in an f1 car before – with haas a while ago – so there's really not much worry about how she'll do this year. she just needs a good car to start.
[claire williams] nothing wrong with taking a chance on a rookie. but as a new team in the sport, you'd want to prove to everyone that you fought rightfully so for your spot as a new addition to the pitlane.
-> bahrain, 2023
she stands at the back of the garage. the camera zooms into the girl toying with the neckline of her fireproofs. she presses her lips together as sebastian talks to her. "so you're starting p18 tomorrow."
"oh." she looks down at the ground and purses her lips together. "well i told you: the car still felt a little difficult in the braking zones earlier. that was the best i could do without burying myself into a barrier."
"yeah, of course. that just means you'll have to work a little extra tomorrow during the race," sebastian grins. he places his hand on her shoulder to shake her gently. "you did your best today. don't even worry about it. you'll come back stronger tomorrow."
"of course. i didn't get this far just to fumble the bag at my first race."
[danica patrick] qualifying p18 as a rookie and as the sole woman in the sport... it's not a good look for either herself or the people who decided to take a chance on her.
"and that's the checkered flag. p11," sebastian says into her ears.
she sighs as she slows the car down for a cool-down lap. she lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head. "i could have pushed a little more to get better results. i'm sorry."
"ah, you finished ahead of a lot of people and you climbed 7 places on the track. it's a good first race."
[will buxton] right now, it seems that not everyone is fond of having a woman on the grid. that's very prominent in the fan side of things. but a lot of people are forgetting that she raced with some of the big names that people know today and was on par with them in the results growing up.
[oscar piastri] well, we go way back. you know, growing up karting together and constantly being in competition with one another, i think really encouraged her to stay in the sport. when we moved up to f3 from formula renault, she kinda got left behind to stay. so when i was poached by prema to race into f2, i suggested that they give her a chance.
well, i was up there fighting with oscar and logan, and occasionally liam, for good results during karting races and eventually in formula renault. the only disadvantage i had compared to them was that i'm a girl. you know, growing up, i would constantly be told that i wouldn't get very far cause this is a boy's sport. that really does discourage you from wanting and thinking that i'd get into official leagues, but i owe it to my best friends for pushing me to dream bigger and retain the passion i had for racing.
[logan sargeant] i mean... she kinda did hand me my ass every single time we were out on the track. if that doesn't tell people that she's a good racer, i'm unsure what will.
[zak brown] it was, truthfully, down to her and oscar for who should come in and drive for mclaren. but we weren't sure if the risks to bring her in would be worth it. so we went with the safer option.
[james vowles] i know a couple different teams – i'm definitely not namedropping – who were eyeing her for her performance last year. prema did a very good job marketing her as their driver as well so there's an extra factor. she's lovely.
-> australia, 2023
"oh, andretti's rookie passes the flag ahead of the alpha tauri and puts her in the points!" there's cheering in the grandstands, and nobody can believe their eyes at the results of the purple race car. "you see it here first – she is the first woman, in decades, to score points to formula 1"
"that's p9! there's your first points in formula 1!"
"oh? oh my fucking god! i did it!"
scoring your first points as a formula 1 driver... it's a very big feat as a rookie. but it means even more when you're in my position.
she runs to where sebastian stands, helmet in her hands. she screams as her team erupts in cheers at the sight of her sprinting towards them and she pumps her fists into the air.
"i did it!" she screams, immediately surrounded by the personnel clad in the bright andretti purple. "i scored my first points!"
she's seen in the middle of their makeshift circle, thrown around by her team as they bask in their first achievement in the sport and of the year. she's seen with tears running down her cheeks briefly before sebastian pulls her in for a very tight hug.
"i told you everything will be fine. you just had to be patient, kid."
[sebastian vettel] scoring points alone is already a step in the right direction. now we just need to focus on being consistent race after race.
-> azerbaijan, 2023
"there's a yellow flag here in lap 40. we're waiting to hear who it was caused by," the camera pans to the car head first into the barriers at a turn, "and it seems to be an andretti."
when you crash front first out of a turn, it's like the rudest jumpscare a person could have. it's nothing to do with the car – it was straight up a driver error.
[sebastian vettel] no driver wants to crash their car during a race and then admit to the whole world that it was their fault. especially when you're in her position, you know? the statement she released and choosing to be honest about it being a driver error – it was her decision to handle it that way. personally... he giggles with a smile. i wouldn't have done that.
[will buxton] she only seems to be getting better and better every single weekend.
-> monaco, 2023
"that's another finish in the points, kid. good race. that's p5 for you."
"thank you. the car felt great this weekend."
-> singapore, 2023
"here we have the andretti rookie in her engineer and mentor's arms, on a very historical evening. she has just scored her first podium this weekend at the singapore grand prix."
she jumps as she's in sebastian's arms, her face buried in his chest. she is seen pulling away slightly from him and he grabs her face, "amazing– you were amazing, kid! congratulations!"
tears, again, roll down her cheeks as she nods at his statement. her chest heaves as she cries. "thank you. oh, my goodness. thank you."
"there's no words. just that you were amazing this weekend."
a hand lands on her back. she turns around and covers her face as she fights the biggest grin. "you beat me in f1, mate!"
the australian accent fills her ears as he congratulates her. oscar takes her into his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder as they lock themselves in a tight embrace. he rubs circles on her back. "congrats on the podium, mate."
[danica patrick] now they're in a weird spot. oscar, on one hand, has been backed by mark webber for years. his best friend is racing under sebastian vettel. everybody knows those two don't get along – is it possible that it could reflect on their friendship as well?
-> silverstone, 2023
"overtake available." her andretti, slowly inches towards the mclaren of oscar's up ahead. "whenever you see fit."
"what's the gap?" oscar huffs, head snapping over to his side mirror briefly.
"0.2."
at the next turn, she takes a big lunge on the inside of the track to go ahead of oscar.
"there's a bit of fighting at the midfield here between a mclaren and an andretti. oscar piastri, however, does not let her go. he is still fighting to hopefully finish ahead of her in today's race."
"keep the pace. try to shake oscar off, he's still close behind you."
"noted."
racing on the track with oscar? nothing i haven't done before.
[oscar piastri] she's always been great at keeping up and being a challenging competitor on the track.
[logan sargeant] she's very fast on and off the track. i rarely beat her in racing... so...
"oscar piastri takes the checkered flag behind the andretti, failing to fight with the incredible pace the new car has shown this weekend."
in parc ferme, the girl takes her helmet off, turning around sharply to the man in papaya orange as he lifts himself out of the car. "good fight, mate."
"good fight," oscar smiles. they share a quick hug before the younger girl briefly runs away from him to approach logan further down the lane.
[danica patrick] we've seen what the sport does to friends. it does not matter how long you've been friends – it will eventually catch up to you and everybody involved.
-> austin, 2023
"the andretti finished in p5 and logan sargeant has just been promoted to p10 following the disqualification of charles leclerc and lewis hamilton. oscar, however, retires from the race following a crash with esteban ocon."
i don't beat oscar often – so whenever the rarity comes up, i take it with open arms.
"ah, screw you mate," oscar laughs, throwing his arms around the younger girl once again. "good finish."
she flips her hair as she pulls away and bats her eyelashes. "what can i say? i'm made for formula 1."
[sebastian vettel] they're sweet kids. i don't think there is any animosity between them. they lived together while they karted weekend after weekend. they're used to it... i think.
we've fought about things like these growing up. oh, for sure. we're both the oldest siblings – so the competition never ends between us.
[oscar piastri] she is very competitive. she's only fair when it comes to racing on the track though. everything else, she finds a way to come out on top.
-> oxford, 2023 (winter break)
"i won."
logan turns to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. "no, you didn't."
now stood up, the girl looked down at logan with a mirrored bewildered expression on her face. "yes, i did."
"no," logan repeats with his eyebrows raised, "you did not."
she clenches her jaw. "yes, i did."
"dude." logan turns to look at oscar, sitting across the table from them. their gazes all land on the card that she puts in the middle. "that's a yellow card that you coloured over with red marker. you lost – just admit it."
"what do you mean? that's a legit card." she lifts it up and reveals to the camera a card that's been poorly coloured red with some scratches that reveal the authenticity of the yellow that logan had just pointed out.
[logan sargeant] she's such a sore loser.
-> abu dhabi, 2023
"that's the andretti of the rookie driver crossing the finish line in p4, and that puts her in 6th place in the driver's championship. we might just be at the start of history being made, folks."
[sebastian vettel] what can i say? i'm never wrong with who i place my bets on.
[danica patrick] she proved a lot of people wrong this year, including me. she is an exciting up and coming driver.
she shrugs with a smug grin on her face. oh, i'm here to stay, babes.
andretti has secured her with a multi-year contract with the team – she will be racing under them until 2028.
the clapperboard clicks loudly, a man sits there with a cheeky grin as he stares into the camera. i'm liam lawson and i'm now an andretti race car driver. see you on the track in 2024.
– bonus
"aw, mate! they totally twisted that whole scene up!" she scoffs, throwing a small pillow at the tv screen. "dalton was the one that coloured that uno card in. not me!"
oscar turns to her. "yet you still used it despite the fact that we agreed to not use it in games anymore."
"the game would not have been fair if we were missing one card!"
logan scoffs. "we let you win, anyway."
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