#it do be a day that makes you feel like you just bit into a pickle that was more squishy that you expected

[gutsby]

Honor Among Thieves

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying Brooklyn’s most dangerous man was easy. Divorcing him proves to be a bit harder—particularly when you’re pregnant with his child.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Breeding kink. Hurt/Comfort/We-Almost-Just-Died-Sex. Morning sickness. Manslaughter. Brief coerced kissing. Beefy, mob boss Bucky is a possessive expectant father who just wants to make sure he knocked you up properly

Descriptions of violence throughout.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Bucky’s words reverberated like a shotgun’s report, skimming across two dozen feet of marble, glass, and stainless steel before reaching your ears on the opposite end of the room. He was standing at the threshold of the kitchen, and your back was turned to him. Lucky thing, too, or else he would’ve seen the smile threatening to tug at both ends of your lips—effectively blowing your cover.

“Really, I don’t have the slightest idea, Barnes,” you told him, and it took everything in you not to laugh. Having just narrowly preserved your composure, you continued, “You keep me locked in this prison all day and expect me not to find ways to entertain myself? Well, this is all it is.”

Like hell it was, you could already hear in Bucky’s head. Feeling him eye you up and down from the archway, take his first steps into the room, loosen his tie, most likely.

“Prison?” You registered a low scoff, and his voice was already so much closer than it’d been five seconds ago.

Your husband was striding as quickly as his smooth, dark, tailored suit would allow, and he was undressing as he walked. You could hear the clothes coming off but pretended not to notice. Instead staring more intently at the crab bisque simmering on the stove before you, you licked the spoon you were holding and hummed a little.

“Yes,” you answered, simply, “Prison.”

Bucky was by your side in no time at all. Up close, he smelled like rosemary, oakmoss, and gunpowder.

“Well, this is news to me,” he said. He dragged out the middle syllables of his words longer than was necessary, likely to make his move sidling up closer to you. The last sound had scarcely died in his throat more than a second or two before you felt an arm loop around your back. A hand coming to rest on your hip, then his voice, again:

“See, I never knew they built ‘prisons’ up in first-class penthouse apartments in Brooklyn. Must be pretty nice.”

Bucky stepped behind you, and you were half-certain the black suit jacket he’d come home wearing was fully removed. Again, you pretended not to see, or care.

“It’s a metaphor, James.” But your voice wavered.

“A metaphor?” Bucky’s head sank into the soft groove between your neck and your shoulder, and he kissed it.

“Yes.”

Your mouth made a sound more akin to a breath than a real, enunciated word, and you knew Bucky felt it too. He sensed this headstrong, no-bullshit façade of yours was sure to come crumbling apart any second, and each new brush of his hands and lips would be making it happen. Knowing this, he wasn’t in a rush to get the rest of his clothes off. He did, however, start to toy with yours.

“Tell me more. Am I really holding you hostage, doll?”

You took a ladle and started to stir, trying to stay cool. Meanwhile, your husband tugged gently on your dress.

“Hostage, housewife, same thing,” you muttered, low.

For once, it was Bucky’s turn to break character, as he laughed. It was short-lived and sweet, and he pressed another kiss to the skin of your neck, as if in apology.

“Right, right. I forgot. You were forced to marry me.”

“Right,” you shook your head, just slightly emboldened by the way you’d made him crack, if only for a moment, “I’m forced to marry you, move into this horrific little shanty in Brooklyn”—gesturing to the multi-million dollar apartment surrounding you both—“and then you leave me here, all by myself, with nothing to do while you go play Godfather with your mobster friends. It’s not fair.”

By the tail end of that last sentence, you and Bucky both were already grinning a little, coming to terms with just how ridiculous it sounded when you phrased it like that. Still, your husband seemed game to keep the bit going.

“Now that’s just not true,” he said, tone all faux offense.

You felt the soft snap of a ribbon coming undone, and in a second realized it was the satin bow holding the back of your dress together. The fabric loosened, and Bucky’s hands slid down your sides, over your front—of course.

“I didn’t leave you ‘by yourself’ at all, doll,” he said, and suddenly, his palms were fanning out, over something, “Gave you this baby to keep you company, didn’t I?”

The ‘something’ he was touching now was your belly. All soft and smooth and protruding out in a perfect little globe beneath your dress, no bigger than when he’d left for work that morning. Bucky treated the bump like it was a novelty all the same—like he was seeing it for the first time and couldn’t believe he was actually the one responsible for making it get like that. It had gotten to be a hobby of his, nearly, just how much he loved watching it grow. He had his fingers splayed out across your tummy virtually every chance he could get, and that didn’t stop whether you were out in public or sharing a moment in the comfort of home; he couldn’t get enough.

Which was why Bucky was right when he’d said you knew exactly what you were doing when he came home that day. You knew just the kind of effect that wearing a tight, white dress while cooking dinner would have on him, and you hoped it would rile him up just like this: with his hands roaming over every inch of your body, making soft, sweet circles along the swell of your belly, and kissing your neck again and again. Biting some, too. Getting so worked up he was all but gnawing at the skin as he drank in your scent and got lost to pure instinct.

If it wasn’t clear that Bucky had had a breeding kink before, you saw it written plain as day across his face every morning and night since he’d first learned you were pregnant. Like all the life force within him was just a byproduct of the knowledge that you were his—and this baby, growing bigger each day, was a mix of you both.

You hated to say it, but fatherhood suited your assassin-trained, mob-heading, bloodlusting husband better than anyone could have predicted in a million years or more.

Presently, Bucky flipped you around and sank to his knees. He slid you over to the counterspace area, away from the stove, and made sure to flip each knob to ‘off’ to make sure there wasn’t a chance you’d get burned. You cast one last look at the crab bisque and knew at once your hard work would have to be put on the back burner for now, because Bucky wasn’t hungry for that.

Still, you kicked a foot in soft, muted protest when you felt him slide his hands up your legs, under your dress, and start to reach for your panties. You let out a breath.

“I spent two hours perfecting the seasoning on that, Barnes,” you chided him, gently and without much admonition in your voice as you pointed to the soup, “You say you want a good little housewife but won’t even leave me un-fucked long enough to try any food I make!”

“And I’m very sorry about that, Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky replied, head disappearing beneath your skirt so he could take your underwear off with his teeth instead.

But, much like your reproach, your husband’s strained apology held less than half of its professed sincerity. Your blue cotton panties were discarded in a second, your hips pushed back against the cool white marble behind it, and Bucky, almost too cheekily, brought his head back up from underneath your dress just to steal a quick look at your belly, then up at you. He was smiling.

“Anything you make tastes amazing, honey. Daddy just needs to eat a little something beforehand, that okay?”

He already knew what you’d say. The sweet, shit-eating grin hovering over your lower half knew all that and more. Bucky just loved to tease, taking the hem of your dress between his index and thumb, and rubbing all the more tenderly, murmuring again, ‘That alright with you, pretty girl?’ and ‘My wife likes getting tonguefucked in the kitchen, doesn’t she?’ while his breaths spread over you.

You nodded that you did. Momentarily forgetting the three-course meal you’d had planned for him since early that morning, you let your knees fall limply apart from one another, and Bucky’s broad form filled the space in between. The fabric of your dress was snug, especially so over your belly. Your husband pushed the material up your hips and let it rest just high enough to expose your warmth to him. Angling your hips back the slightest bit, trailing his fingers up your thighs and inside them, gently, Bucky let out a low groan against your body, and you could feel the vibrations of it travel up your spine.

“I really am mean for keeping you here all day, aren’t I?” he teased, sliding the tips of his fingers between your glistening folds and watching you jolt in response.

“So— so mean. Bucky, please.”

Your voice was far more hoarse than circumstances would seem to beget; your husband had just eaten you out that morning. Nevertheless, your hand was trembling as it reached for his head. Your pull was taut and dire. While your fingers threaded in through his hair and your body opened itself more and more for him, you could feel that kind smile, even if you couldn’t see it. Frankly, the swelling of eight-and-a-half months made it difficult to see much of anything below the waist, but Bucky made sure to let you know he was there. By holding your hand, skimming his lips against your skin, starting, just then, to sink his fingers in toward the heat of your body, and softly pulling his face away so he could look up at you.

“Baby?” he breathed.

Your eyes locked with his as he slid two fingers inside you. The stretch alone was enough to put your brain on the fritz, but, fighting the first shockwaves of pleasure:

“Y-Yeah?”

He withdrew. Pressed them back in and let out a grunt.

“I need you to do something for me.”

You couldn’t fathom what that might be, but you nodded anyway. ‘Anything’ was what you managed to choke out.

“And you might not like it, doll.”

Your eyes widened some.

“O— O-Okay, what?”

Bucky’s fingers curled inside you, and a short, sharp streak of dizzying pleasure pulsed through your body. Your knees felt weak, and your mind even worse, but with what little resolve you had left, you were able to keep your eyes entirely open and fastened to his. A look that struck you as almost bittersweet crossed your husband’s features, and you saw his gaze soften again.

“I need you to wake up,” he said, calmly.

“What?”

Your toes curled tight underneath you, and the warmth between your legs leapt up to over a thousand degrees.

“Melaya, I need you to wake up.”

At the same time, your blood ran cold in your veins. Surely, you couldn’t be hearing him right if the voice he used was so gruff and low—and laden with a Russian lilt.

“Bucky? What— What do you mean?”

But you knew. Or suspected something of it anyway.

Now the sound from your own throat was hardly one that you recognized as yours, so shrill and high and strange—what could he mean by that? Why was he watching you in that way? Your husband wasn’t smiling so brightly anymore, and the once-gratifying conflagration between your legs had grown to an almost scorching degree, no longer nice, generous, or pleasurable in the slightest.

“We need you to wake up now, honey. Right now.”

His tone, too, was distorted. Grating.

“Bucky, I-I don’t underst—”

“WAKE UP!”

“WAKE UP!”

Natasha shook you hard, and it hurt.

She didn’t mean for it to. She just needed you up and out of bed, and you’d been asleep for almost fourteen hours.

You started at the fifth or sixth shake, nearly punching yourself in the face when you tried yanking a set of covers up and over your head and discovered, shortly, that there was none. You were splayed out on a bed in an as-yet unfamiliar home—Steve’s new place—and, while you slept, you’d kicked all of the blankets you’d been given the night before off your body and onto the floor.

Your eyes were wide as saucers as they darted to Nat’s.

There was no need to say what had happened—she knew these dreams were getting worse by the day.

It’d been a week since you fled your Brooklyn apartment in an all-out terror. A week since a senseless, short-sighted idea on your part had led to the discovery that your husband was once part of a HYDRA sleeper cell whose activation phrase turned him into an agent of total destruction at will. A week since you’d seen a half dozen bodies litter your living room floor, more still being bludgeoned by the so-called ‘Winter Soldier,’ as Bucky had formerly been known. A week since you’d sobbed in Natasha’s arms and begged her not to let you go back. A week since you’d been obliged to hide out in Steve Rogers’ new bachelor pad upstate, because, frankly, there was nowhere else you could safely live until this whole ordeal with Bucky was settled—if it ever would be.

A full week since you’d learned you were pregnant, too.

As far as you knew, your husband was wholly unaware of this fact, and of Steve’s most recent real estate purchase up in Buffalo, and you’d been existing in a semi-serene and largely dissociated state for the past seven days.

Your gaze adjusted to the light, and you blinked up at Nat, feeling damp in just about every place on your body. You looked down and found yourself drenched in sweat.

“Hydrate. Please.”

It wasn’t so much a request as it was a standing order: Nat holding out a glass of water and instructing you to drink. Though your first instinct was to make a face and shake your head—you’d found that any new fluids in your body this early in the morning would only get thrown back up when you made your first frantic trip to the toilet—you accepted it anyway. You drank three big gulps to appease the woman standing next to the bed, then wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled

“I’m gonna go puke now,” you said.

“Aim for inside the toilet bowl if you can,” Steve called out from the doorway. By the look on his face, you’d been doing a pretty shit job of aiming vomit lately.

“My bad, Rogers.”

You had a hand on your stomach, slowly easing back up into a seated position, when you heard something being flung across the room, followed by a ‘HEY!’ and a crash.

“Your aim sucks, too, Romanoff,” Steve griped, loudly, “And I was kidding. She can puke wherever she wants.”

By the door, a hefty hardcover book lay open on the floor. Apparently Nat’s options for projectiles had been limited.

“All good, Rogers,” you offered anyway. Fighting a smirk.

You were starting to stand, and your head felt as if you’d just taken your first steps off a rocking boat. Your other hand jumped to your mouth, and you muttered, ‘Fuck’ before brushing past Nat and her outstretched arms.

She held your hair while Steve retrieved the glass of water, as well as a towel. The unsightly first trimester ritual proceeded as it had for all of the last week, with Nat rubbing circles in your back and Steve making well-meaning but completely useless live commentary like, ‘Babies are a real pain in the ass, aren’t they?’ At the conclusion of each new stupid remark, Natasha would shoot a dirty look his way, but you never let her shoo him away. Through no conscious choice of your own, Steve had become something of a comfort blanket over the course of the past chaotic days. At the very least, you two were no longer at each other’s throats flinging accusations and exorbitantly-priced tumblers in the other’s direction, which was a marked improvement from where you were the day after you and Bucky’s wedding.

At length, you lifted your head from the toilet, and he daubed at your cheek with the towel—mostly just trying to wipe off spit and your own queasy-looking expression. He succeeded in clearing away just the former, but you forced a smile all the same, then shared it with Natasha.

Nat couldn’t smile back. In fact, the grimace on her face only etched even deeper, and her forehead creased.

“This is a horrible time to be asking you this, I know—”

“Nat, please.” Steve groaned.

Nat, what? There wasn’t a lot more that could catch you off guard after all the shit you’d come to see that week. Still, Nat’s breaths were both measured and slow, and you could see she was chewing on the inside of her cheek like she wasn’t quite sure how best to phrase her words. This, coming from one of the most astute legal minds this side of the Hudson River, gave you pause.

“Ask anything. I’m pretty numb, if you haven’t noticed.” You rapped on the side of your head for comedic effect, but neither Natasha nor Steve laughed or cracked a grin.

“How do you feel about filing for divorce tomorrow?”

At the sound of Nat’s words, you felt the bile jump back up your throat. You knew there wasn’t enough food or fluid to make much of anything now, but all the same, you craned your neck back over the toilet and retched. When nothing came out, as expected, you turned back.

“What?”

Natasha looked a little ill herself, but still, she continued.

“How do you feel about just…fast-tracking a divorce from him and taking off new? We’ll talk assets later.”

Assets? Fast-track? Divorce? What the fuck?

“What the fuck, Nat?” you repeated as much out loud.

It normally wasn’t your thing to be so blunt with her, but the inquiry certainly seemed to invite some extra candor. You swiped at your mouth for any excess spit that might’ve trickled out, crudely, and in a second, Steve was handing you the towel. Then helping you to your feet, holding your arm and lower back in a grip you could feel was secure. You were unsteady on your legs, so he and Natasha guided you over to the sink, where you could regain your bearings and freshen up a bit. Sneaking a look at your reflection in the mirror was a bad idea; your face was sallow, and the rest of your body had every appearance of being horribly weak, for lack of a better word. You caught a glimpse of a gash sitting just above your left temple and immediately looked away. Stupidly, you hoped Steve and Nat hadn’t seen it.

“He did that to you,” Nat said without missing a beat.

You winced, and you washed your hands, not looking up.

“I thought you said it wasn’t him. Soldat, you told me.” And for a second, your eyes flickered to Steve, whose expression was a touch more sympathetic, if not visibly discomfited now. Like he didn’t want to speak for once.

He did, anyway: “Doesn’t matter if it was Winter or him, really. Point is he hurt you while trying to protect y—”

“And yet, you asked me to forgive him just last week for killing my dad in the same type of rage,” you replied, and instantly regretted the accusatory tone you’d taken on.

Your anger was misdirected at Steve. It wasn’t his fault for sharing the truth about your husband’s—his best friend’s—past when you’d asked him. These were queries you’d made, helping to form justifications for your own decision to stay after what had happened in Madripoor. Obviously, Steve would be biased to help support his friend in a time of need. But now things were different; Bucky had never been activated as soldat and ended up hurting someone he’d loved before. Steve was free to change his mind after seeing that happen and urge you to leave, or at least reconsider, your marriage to Bucky.

The second look you gave him attempted to convey as much, a bit more apologetic as he and Natasha led the way out of the bathroom. Steve smiled and held your arm again, though you probably didn’t need it. You walked downstairs to the kitchen together. Over by the toaster, Sam was inspecting a charred bagel with a scowl

“Rogers, you really need to ditch this shit,” he said, gesturing to the rusted metal contraption that appeared to be from 1918, and had just burnt two bagels to a crisp.

“It was a gift from a friend, piss off,” Steve replied, grinning a little. Reaching for the blackened bread roll and even going so far as to take a bite, crunching loudly.

“Did your friend happen to fight in World War II?” Nat asked. She lent one look to the archaic machine but said nothing further, opting instead to take a seat at the kitchen table, where a sea of papers was strewn about.

Then, to you, “Come. Sit.”

Somewhere in your tentative stroll from where you stood to where she sat, and in the middle of the men’s toaster bickering, Sam called out that he’d have bacon and eggs ready in a second. Steve offered up his singed sesame bagel in the interim, and you told him no thanks. With a still slightly throbbing skull and a nauseous gait, you took the chair next to Nat’s and looked down at her papers.

Honestly, you thought your present condition might warrant some leeway when it came to holding off on the heavy-hitting topics first thing, but, to your surprise, Natasha slid a crisp white packet over almost instantly.

“Nat, what the fuck?” you groaned for the second time.

“Read it. Give it a second to digest, then we can—”

“No!” you cut in, pushing the packet back to her with a little more force than you’d meant, “I-I can’t. Not now.”

On the very first page, in bold and capitalized typeface, there was printed a brief string of words you’d never wanted—or thought you would ever need—to see:

‘VERIFIED COMPLAINT: ACTION FOR DIVORCE’

“It’s just the petition. No harm in taking a look,” Nat said.

You could hear a faintly gentler tone in her voice, even as you shook your head and looked away from the papers.

“I don’t want to. I can’t do this right now.” You kept shaking your head for a couple seconds after, turning your gaze instead to the bay window of Steve’s kitchen.

A nice, sprawling yard stretched as far as you could see. In the distance, a fuzzy white horizon was punctuated the slightest bit by the outline of a wood fence, but apart from that, the land was empty. The lot was secluded. Happy and effervescent in a nearly cloudless sky, the midmorning sun cast its rays without so much as the threat of a storm’s hinderance. You fixed your eyes on the clear expanse above and silently wished it would rain.

Before more than a minute or two had passed like that, Sam was approaching the table with two platters. Steve balanced four more by himself, watching the sway of one plate of scrambled eggs in his arms with a wary look before setting each one of the dishes on the table.

“Bon appétit,” Steve said, butchering his French just about as badly as Sam had the bagels. You and Nat thanked them both anyway and started clearing off the table, pushing papers away in favor of steaming plates. Sam and Steve sat down, and all of you began to eat.

While you dutifully piled on each scoop of eggs, bacon, sausage links, biscuits, gravy, and grits—far more than you knew you could feasibly consume—you wished again for a rainstorm, and maybe a quiet breakfast. One that wasn’t marred by talks of legal separation and lengthy battles in court, if you could help it at all. To this end, and perhaps against your body’s best interest, you shoveled two supersized spoonfuls of egg in your mouth, so that if Nat tried reviving those subjects again, you could put off the conversation by simply continuing to chew. You felt your stomach turn inside you but, stubbornly, ate more.

You had just swallowed it all, about to make way for a warm, flaky buttermilk biscuit, when a sound cut in, and your belly flipped again. Your teeth had barely sunk into the bread a second when Nat set her own food aside, then used two fingers to push something toward you.

“Just skim it. Let me explain what the process can be,” she said, tapping her index on the first line and meeting your eyes as if to plead. She had to have known she’d be met with resistance—from you, of course, but also Steve. She raised a defensive hand to him before he even cut in:

“Come the fuck on, Nat. Will you give her a break?”

“I’m saying this for her sake! I’m doing it for her.”

“And throwing divorce papers in her face over breakfast is really the best way of going about it? Is that for her?”

Sam swallowed whatever he’d been chewing on, glanced down at the top paper, and seemed to brace himself.

“Guys, is now really the right time—” he started.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Steve barked over him.

Natasha ignored the plainly disdainful look from the latter, lifted her hand off the paperwork and instead trained her gaze solely on you. Just like she had in Zurich. Focusing intently on your face, ignoring whatever Steve or Sam were saying in the moment, she turned to you and found your expression was stale. Unmoving. Frankly, half of what was running through your mind right then was how badly you wanted to puke again. As if the eggs had turned rotten in your gut the second they reached their destination in your GI tract, you felt a heavy, oppressive fog of nausea taking shape between your ears, and you just wanted everyone to stop talking.

Sam and Steve continued on without a hitch, agreeing vaguely but also appearing to bicker over other things, like when was the most appropriate time to have this conversation. Natasha was leaning in, reaching for your hand this time, and you knew she meant well. You would bet any large sum of money there wasn’t a malicious bone in her body, and she was doing this for your benefit. All the same, you were grateful when the front door swung back on its hinges, and a new person walked in. Nat, Sam, and Steve all suspended their conversations.

“Hey, wh—” the blissfully unaware, semi-stranger began.

“Sharon!” Steve cried, “Would you tell Romanoff she’s being a goddamn pest with no sense of boundaries?”

Sharon halted at the threshold of the house, skating a look between Nat and Steve at first, then Steve and Sam, then just at you. The look didn’t linger for long, and before you knew it, she was setting down a fistful of grocery bags and twisting her mouth into a frown.

“Will you shut up, Steve?” was her only response.

Sam rose from his chair and pointed as if to say, ‘Yeah, that’ before joining her in the foyer to help carry in the Wegmans bags. Natasha leaned back in her chair with a vaguely pleased look, and Steve just rolled his eyes. He slapped his palm overtop the stack of divorce papers still laying before you and, seemingly undeterred, continued,

“Do you think it’s fair for her to force divorce papers on this poor soul—” pointing to you, the poor soul, apparently, “—when it’s been a week since she left?”

Sharon started handing off the frozen stuff first, sliding a box of Stouffer’s across the counter to Sam, who then deposited it in the freezer. These exchanges took place in relatively quick succession, with Sharon only chancing a look toward the kitchen table once or twice as they did.

“I think she should do whatever the hell she wants,” she said, “And I think their divorce is none of our business.”

Fair enough take. One that you could respect, at the very least, even if you weren’t certain she particularly cared for you at all. You reckoned she had no reason to, and on the whole, appeared to be a pretty reserved person.

You wanted to add a word in her defense, reiterate to Steve that he didn’t have to go to bat for you, the poor, defenseless soul, right now. Instead of being able to speak, though, you felt an upsurge of something heavy in your throat. You clamped a hand to your mouth again, cheeks flushing with the heady sensation and also out of embarrassment, then pushed your chair back and stood.

“I— gotta—” you stammered, just audible to the table, through the wall your fingers had made over your lips.

You sprinted up the stairs without another word.

The first trimester ritual repeated, and ten minutes later, you re-emerged from the bathroom feeling two big spoonfuls of scrambled eggs lighter and still none the happier, healthier, or wiser. You took a peek in the full-length mirror at the other end of the room and discerned from a distance of ten feet that you looked like dogshit.

You flopped down on the bed face-first, heedless of the pool of sweat that still encompassed roughly half of it, and let out a weak, muffled breath into the sheets. Someone had been gracious enough to replace all the blankets and pillows you’d kicked off last night. When you heard a knock on the door, it sounded a lot like Nat’s.

You rolled to the side, eyes screwed shut in frustration.

“If you’ve come to tell me my marriage is a fucking dumpsterfire, I agree completely, Natasha. I’m dumb.”

A little huff of a half-laugh sounded from the doorway. You opened your eyes and saw Sharon standing there.

Up close, she looked a little paler than you’d remembered seeing her last in Switzerland. Soft beads of perspiration dotted her neckline from what had likely been a hot and arduous journey walking up the driveway with all the food, and presently, she seemed tired. She wore a simple gingham blouse that had her eyes shining with vibrance, though, and both hands, you noticed, were full—she had a mug in one and a spoon in the other. She smiled kindly.

“The mob tends to have that effect,” she said, strolling in. Setting the mug on the nightstand and easing the spoon into it, stirring, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You had no idea what all she knew about your marriage. You weren’t so sure you could extricate yourself from all the blame of having the thing go up in flames in four short weeks. Nevertheless, you smiled back and offered up something good-humored in return, like, well, I’m not exactly winning wife of the fucking year anytime soon.

Again, Sharon chuckled. It was small. She leaned back against the nearest armchair and, pointing to the cup she’d left to rest on the nightstand, said in a soft voice,

“Give that a minute. It’s hot.”

You glanced over and saw a little string that you guessed was attached to a teabag sitting at the bottom of the mug. The drink smelled like chamomile, maybe. You sat up, readjusted your pyjama top, then slid your socked feet underneath you so you could scoot closer to the edge of the bed. On a deeper inhale, you decided the tea was definitely chamomile. And too hot, as Sharon said.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” she replied. Letting out that funny little chuckle of hers—one too low to be considered a full laugh, but very close—and then, seeming to realize what she said might’ve sounded off, “Like— I heard what happened with Schröder. Him trying to drug you after the wedding and all…that. I— I’m sorry.”

Bad time to be making jokes, she appeared to chastise herself, but you just nodded along with the faintest grin.

“It’s OK. I’d pay money to be knocked the fuck out now.”

You grinned bigger, and she smiled too.

“It should make you sleepier, if you wanted to nap.”

You replied that you would, in fact, love to be unconscious right now if it meant not having to put up with all this bullshit morning sickness, and you slowly reached for the mug. Sharon stood up, and while you took your first sips, she fluffed the pillows behind you.

She was right. The tea felt like a hug. You settled under the covers and brought the cup to your lips once more, taking two big draughts before setting the drink aside. Yeah, that shit’ll put you right out, no drugs needed. You sank even further under the sheets and watched Sharon hover between the bed and the doorway, looking around as if trying to find something to do—some way to make herself feel more useful, if you had to guess from the pensive look in her eyes. Finally, she settled closer to the door and gave you one, fairly sanguine look. The warmth of your drink had already begun to nestle inside your weary bones, and your eyelids felt heavier. Still, you tried to return the sunny look before getting fully settled.

“Thanks again, Sharon. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She started to leave. In fact, she’d already made it three-fourths out of the room when something stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to you, and you looked up.

“This…probably doesn’t mean a whole lot coming from me, but—whatever you decide to do with Bucky…is okay. We’ll support you, whether you choose to raise this baby with him or do…whatever it is you want to do. Don’t let Nat or Steve or Sam or anybody tell you differently. It’s your choice, y’know, whether you wanna stay married…”

Sharon trailed off, and somewhere inside, you could tell she meant to finish with words like, ‘…even if you didn’t get to make the choice to get married in the first place.’ You appreciated it. You beamed with just your head poking out from over the covers and thanked her again.

And, before she left, for the second time, she stopped. She walked over to the nightstand and bent slightly at the waist, just enough to set something small down. You turned to the side and saw a vial—a minuscule tube—on the surface. Your eyes widened, realizing what it was.

“Sam picked it up in Madripoor. He said Steve had given this to you…to, uh, give to Schröder, and I thought you should have it back,” she said, pausing, “Just in case.”

You eyed the little vial of poison on the nightstand and nodded, still not completely understanding. Your head throbbed, your stomach was still turning, churning. Your brain was about ten blinks away from logging off entirely and drifting to sleep. All you could do, then, was repeat what Sharon had said as you exchanged one final look.

“Just in case.”

Your eyes closed, and you fell asleep very soon after.

You couldn’t have been out for more than an hour; you were sure of it. However, the next time you glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, you saw it read 11:04.

P.M.

Shit.

SHIT.

That chamomille tea was no fucking joke.

Just as your thoughts drifted back to Sharon, the conversation you’d shared, the drink she’d given you, the poison she’d left behind for you to keep, you heard her voice all over again—and now, not just in your own head.

Presently, she was standing over your bed again, though the room was much darker this time around. She pressed a finger to her lips, hey, please, please, be quiet, alright? At first you wanted to make a sharp and strangled sound. A cry for help? You weren’t sure. Didn’t know. Couldn’t see very much of the woman at all, except for the outline of her face from the moonlight streaming in through the window. She stared and ‘shh’ed’ some more.

And you were contemplating yelling out a loud obscenity in response to it when next she cut in, markedly gentler:

“Keep it quick. Nat and the guys will be back in thirty.”

You blinked hard into the darkness and waited for your vision, or else your still-missing voice, to return. It didn’t. You just stared back, eyelids going up and down and up and down like a goddamn idiot gone sluggish off one too many Quaaludes, and it was several seconds more before she gestured behind her, into the shadows.

You tensed under the covers, chock-full of terror. You squinted, and shrank, and might’ve nearly pissed yourself were it not for the intervening force of a face.

A familiar face.

Bucky’s face.

You leapt up from the bed, displacing each one of Sharon’s cool and careful warnings from your mind all at once. You didn’t mean to, and as soon as she’d shushed you again, you shut your mouth. Fell still. Sharon slipped out of the room, reminding you both, again, that you had to be quiet, and you had to be quick. Then it was just you and Bucky. Silence and slightly less than five feet of space between you two. Then, shortly, no space to spare at all, as you ran to meet each for a hug a second later.

Your head struck his chest, and it was hard. That, alongside the python’s squeeze he wrapped around your body, hugging you to him in the tightest embrace imaginable, had your mind reeling, skull pulsing just a bit. You pulled back and stood smiling up at Bucky, whose eyes were wide, drinking the sight of you in.

‘Are you hurt?’ were his first words.

You shook your head that you weren’t, still unable to talk.

“Why are you— Who— who brought you— I didn’t—”

It seemed Bucky was equally hard-pressed to form a sentence himself, while his eyes were roaming wildly, all over you. Looking for bumps or bruises or cuts, whatever the wound might have been. He stumbled to the lamp and flicked it on. You tilted your head left, reflexively.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you said. Sudden and swift, “I’m good.”

But you didn’t move your head too far to the right, either, for fear he might see the cut above your temple—the one soldat had caused when he’d pushed you to the floor, trying to protect you from a threat he couldn’t see.

As it was, your husband seemed to be too much in shock to see anything else apart from what stood immediately in front of him. He hugged you again. He kissed the crown of your head. He constricted your body so tight in his arms you felt a pressure start to build behind your eyes, and suddenly you weren’t so much pulling away as you were wrenching your body from him. When you met Bucky’s gaze again, the sweet blue irises were glossy.

“Nat wouldn’t say where you were, just that you were safe and needed to be…be alone for a while, but I—” He stopped, and it was as if he couldn’t even finish with the words, because his breath was stuck in his throat and his eyes were stinging too much. He looked down, briefly.

You wanted to reach for his hand but hesitated. He took yours a second later, holding extra tight as he continued:

“I thought I’d— thought you might’ve…left. I don’t know. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and then she— Sharon, she called me tonight, said you were here, so— so—”

You felt a pang of guilt holding his gaze, seeing how all the hurt that had come to accumulate behind those eyes over the last week went spilling, at length, into emotions he was either too overcome or sleep-deprived to express. The weight of this suffocated him, made him extra quick to speak his mind but slow to make sense of just about anything that was coming out of his mouth. He stopped, sucked in a breath, then pinched your hand in his, and you didn’t know what to do. You had no idea what to say.

“I was scared, Bucky.”

It sounded pathetic coming out of your mouth. Your husband nodded as though you’d just said the most profound thing in the world. His knuckles went white from just how hard he was gripping your hand, his head bobbed along in agreement, and for a moment, you winced to think that he might hug you again. Instead, the fingers tangled between yours just made a tighter knot.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said.

“You scared me,” you added, voice wavering.

Your left hand was going numb. You didn’t want to give him pause—possibly hurt his feelings—by freeing your touch from his, but that grip was brutal. Deathly rigid and unforgiving. Thoughts of Brooklyn and Madripoor came flooding back; Bucky was so much stronger than he realized. His tone, in contrast, was dulcet and soft.

“I didn’t know I’d get like that. I should’ve told you, doll.”

“I shouldn’t have tried the activation in the first place.”

You shouldn’t have tried digging into Bucky’s past all. When all there seemed to be at every turn was a brand new way for him to hurt you, or the people you loved, maybe there came a time when you had to stop asking questions altogether. Maybe that was what his mother and all the women who’d gone before her had known to do, what you had been too stupid to see all along. There was no knowing these men at all, only taking them as they were and learning to cope with what they became.

Bucky shook his head.

“No, doll, it’s not on you,” he murmured low. Still forceful

Thankfully, he released your hand to cup your cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. You felt your pulse in your palm, throbbing from where he’d held it. When he let go the second time, his expression was considerably softer.

“Listen, I’ll take you home, we can talk things over. As long as I know you’re safe, it doesn’t have to— to—”

Hey. He was already halfway toward the door before he realized you weren’t following him. He turned and gestured forward. He beckoned you, brows drawing in.

“Baby? C’mon.”

You didn’t budge.

Your feet were rooted in place, as though cemented to the floor. No matter how much you wanted to appease him, go along with whatever he asked, you couldn’t. You shook your head, and Bucky tilted his own, confused.

“Baby?”

“I’m leaving, Bucky.”

You couldn’t hear your own words slipping out between your teeth, only the blood rushing through your ears. Bucky stopped and turned to face you completely.

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“What— what do you mean, ‘you’re leaving’?”

“I want a divorce.”

That part you did hear yourself. You wished you hadn’t.

You wished you hadn’t seen the light break off from Bucky’s eyes, expression going limp the instant your words registered with him. You nearly wished you hadn’t said them at all, seeing just how far his face fell and how hurt he looked by them—but quietly, from somewhere more rational-headed inside yourself, there was a voice reminding the rest of you that it needed to be done. You couldn’t keep pretending like this wasn’t what had had to come next. What you’d been skirting with Nat all day and hadn’t been able to bring yourself to admit before now.

Your husband still didn’t seem to be computing it fully. He walked closer to you, and his gait was unsteady.

“Divorce?”

Your vision was bleary; you hadn’t even realized tears had begun to brim at your waterline as you watched him.

“It’s what we need, Bucky,” you could barely get it out.

“I don’t,” he shot back, not missing a beat, “I don’t.”

“It’s what I need.”

“You don’t mean that.”

His voice was hoarse, face shifting from lax incredulity to one of a wince—screwed up in a way that said he felt ill. You shook your head but couldn’t look away from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he repeated.

“It’s what I want,” you pressed on, just as sick yourself.

“You said what you wanted was me.” Again, Bucky’s voice splintered, and you could feel the pain in it.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.”

Gritting your teeth, unsure where else to fix your stare on his face but those eyes—while your own betrayed their feelings too easily, fraught with wet, rolling tears—you shouldn’t have been surprised when his went wider.

“What are you talking about?”

The question was short, sharp, and biting, spoken with such haste as might be mistaken for anger, but the eyes softened his look at once. The anguish painting them now as he stared back at you were a proof, beyond a doubt, that it was betrayal, not rage, which steered him. He turned, and it was as if he couldn’t see a thing but you; his elbow clipped the lamp and knocked it over, but still, he just stared. In turn, the ceramic appliance rolled onto its side, toppled the mug and the vial beside it, and all three went crashing to the floor. Bucky didn’t blink.

“Wh—” he started again, but you didn’t hear the rest.

You remembered Sharon. Heard a flash of her last admonition in your head—be quiet, be quick—and without thinking, you fell to your knees. You tried retrieving what pieces of chipped lamp and shattered mug you could, quickly. You spotted the small vial on the floor and shoved it in a pocket. Your hands swept over the broken pieces without any real idea of what you were doing—all except needing to clean Bucky’s mess—and then swiftly, stupidly, you tried picking it up by yourself.

Of course, a shard cut you. The little slit that was left in its wake could have been no wider than a fraction of an inch, but still, it bled. You looked down at the cut, just then starting to sprout red from left to right along the side of your palm, when a new sight crossed your vision. It was fast, too. All but thoughtless in the way it broke in, gripping your hand in his, and yanking you to your feet. Bucky hadn’t seen that you’d cut yourself, it seemed, and, out of instinct, had grabbed your hand to help you up. As before, his grasp was like a vice, and his thumb pressed right inside the lacerated flesh, sending a whole new maelstrom of pain shooting up your wrist and arm. Now, as then, he was heedless of his strength and his sheer, brute force, that he didn’t even see the effect of his grip. He just held on, held you, tighter, tighter, and—

“STOP!” you shrieked.

You shoved him off. Pried his touch off your palm and gripped your forearm in your other hand and pored over the sight, seeing the gash almost doubled in size from just where Bucky’s finger had sunk into the fresh wound. You let out a sharp, muffled cry through lips that tried to stay closed—remembering Sharon again. You shook your head, clenched your jaw, and tore off the other direction.

And when your husband reached out, eyes wide with their own shock and apologies, ‘Baby, fuck, I’m so sorr—’ you threw him off again. With your non-bleeding palm, you thrust your hand against his chest and pushed hard:

“Don’t touch me!”

When he reached for you again, as if by force of habit, you held up a defensive arm and sobbed out, ‘Stop!’

‘Don’t touch me, don’t—don’t—don’t fucking touch me.’

You screamed it. You didn’t mean to. Thinking only vaguely of the need to be quiet, and almost entirely on the stabbing pain in your hand, the imprint of Bucky’s touch on your body, and the blood trickling down your forearm, you darted into the bathroom and threw the door closed behind you. You locked it. You meant to.

Twenty minutes might as well have been twenty years in Bucky Barnes’ mind. In a moment like this, following yet another supreme fuck up on his part, he felt powerless. He had had to fight the instinct to barge into the next room over with every fiber of his being, and, making fists by his sides and pacing the floor and hating himself was all that seemed capable of occupying his mind just then.

He’d knocked on the bathroom door at least ten times. He’d been ignored each time, no matter the duration.

He still had your blood on his thumb, and it made him ill.

You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.

While he uncurled his hand from a fist just long enough to stare at the streaks of red stretched over his finger, he heard those words replay over and over again in his head. He’d said it—swore it—himself, and still your blood was turning a cool, dark, dry shade of crimson on his thumb.

This wasn’t how he’d meant for any of this to go. Still, notwithstanding his best intentions, none of it mattered. He’d seen a sincere look of fear in your eyes looking up at him, and nothing in the world would change what he’d done, or who he was. He’d caused you pain tonight, last week—though his memory of that was still so hazy and dark he hardly knew what else had happened, even now—and above all, he’d failed you as a husband, a protector.

You were likely curled up in a ball by the bathroom sink, cowering in fear because of him. The thought sent another tidal wave of nausea thrumming through his skull, a lump in his throat growing larger alongside it, and before he knew what he was doing, Bucky was striding back to the bathroom door. He banged his fist against it.

“Honey?”

No answer.

“Baby, please open the door.”

More silence.

The moment brought to mind a memory from the night you two had been married. How you’d fled to the en-suite bathroom and locked yourself in it; how Bucky had rattled the whole doorframe with the force of his knocks, demanding you come out. He’d hardly known you then. You hardly knew him now. The realization of this made the weight in his throat all the more excruciating as he stood, and, wincing with pain, Bucky kept knocking.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Pleading now. His voice was hoarse all over again.

Had he been the slightest bit more desperate and reckless, he might’ve been tempted to muscle through, kick the door in with his boot. But Bucky knew better. He could already guess how much that action would terrify you now, while tending to an injury that he himself had inadvertently made worse. Barreling inside would be neither romantic nor sweet, just sinking what may then be a lethal dose of salt in the deeper, metaphorical wound. He refrained. Instead of continuing to knock, he dropped his forehead to the door and closed his eyes.

“Please believe me, baby,” he tried again.

He’d said it so quietly he feared you might not hear it. Then, a little bit louder, ‘Please, please believe me.’

No sound to be heard inside but running water.

“You mean everything to me, doll.”

By now, his voice was clogged with pain, teetering on the brink of agony as he rested his hands on the door, and willed you to open it. Say something to him. Anything.

“I’d never mean to hurt you. Not in a million years.”

For a moment, he heard nothing more. Just how desperately he needed to hear a voice in reply could not be overstated. Craving a new sound worse than oxygen in his lungs. At first, when he heard something other than himself nearby, it nearly knocked him back with joy.

A voice right next to his ear, “But you did, didn’t you?”

The joy lasted less than a second.

The voice beside him was low. And close. Not coming from the other side of the bathroom door, as he might’ve reasonably expected from you, and not even in the tone of a female’s voice, as he might’ve seen, were Sharon to have appeared by his side. This new voice was deep, and masculine, and in his ear now, chuckling some as a gloved hand pressed the barrel of a gun to his temple.

Bucky didn’t blink.

You stepped outside not wanting to see him.

The bleeding had long since stopped, thanks to the aid of a cool, damp washcloth and a few minutes’ pressure, but even once it ceased, your legs were reluctant to carry you back. You dreaded the thought of having to resume your conversation with Bucky—of having to look him in the eye and tell him all over again that it wasn’t safe for you to be married to him. But you didn’t have much of a choice now, either. This wasn’t your honeymoon, where you could stay locked in the bathroom, try climbing out a window, and hope for the best like you’d done before. You had the man’s child inside you, for fuck’s sake.

That uncomfortable subject and at least a dozen more were already swarming your brain as you made your way out of the bathroom. You’d taken a few extra squares of toilet paper to press into the cut, were looking down at it with a tense, uncertain gaze as you ventured out, when you were obliged to stop just a few steps into the room.

“Hi, honey.”

It wasn’t Bucky.

Your eyes snapped up to the source of the voice in an instant, and, on seeing you were right—that it wasn’t Bucky but a gaunt, grinning blond with a gun to your husband’s head—you almost screamed at the sight.

You’d wanted to scream, anyway. It would’ve been the sane thing to do, and one that nobody could’ve blamed you for in the moment, you reckoned, but strangely the sound never came. You just stared at the two, eyes wide and jaw slightly more lax as your lips made an ‘o’. Bile jumped up in your throat. You wished it would choke you.

‘Please. Don’t.’ was all you could get out.

Johann Schröder’s smile stretched wider.

“Don’t what?”

The question was clearly meant to be derisive, rhetorical. Still, with your fingers trembling, you tried answering:

“Don’t hurt h—”

“Why?”

You watched the gun sink deeper against your husband’s face, and he flinched. Your stomach clenched inside you.

“Why shouldn’t I hurt him, hon? Seems like he’s gotten pretty damn good at doing it to you,” Schröder sneered.

His words stung. The grin didn’t flinch. And, as if to punctuate his sentence, or else remind your husband that he was tied to a chair and entirely at his mercy now, Schröder struck Bucky in the face with the butt of his gun. If an onlooker hadn’t known better, they might’ve mistaken you for the one who’d been hit, though—at last, you unleashed that scream, and you reached out for Bucky, hands open and pathetic and desperate to help.

“Think it hurt as bad as your hand?” Schröder hummed.

Your feet were stumbling forward, “He didn’t mean—”

Another resounding thud against Bucky’s skull, this time hard enough to split his lip in half. If he’d grimaced in the slightest, you would’ve seen the teeth smeared with blood. But, true to form, James Barnes didn’t wince. He hadn’t even seemed to acknowledge the blow as it landed. Just stared at you and, with eyes as hollow and deadened and faintly pleading as you’d ever seen them before, manifested their silent apology to yours—again.

“Bet he didn’t mean to hurt anyone as the Winter Soldier, either. Still couldn’t have felt too good for all the folks he butchered, though.” At that, Schröder’s sick amusement morphed into a laugh, and he was taking Bucky’s collar in his other hand. Shaking him lightly while he spoke.

“Couldn’t have felt all that great for your dad, I bet.”

The diversion turned to you, all toothy smiles and mocking eyes. He didn’t care. He let you stagger another step toward the two of them, even try to get your hands close to Bucky. But when you’d drawn too close, he stopped you cold. Not thinking much else in the moment, you made a move to push Schröder’s arm away, hard, and were shortly rewarded with a shove of your own. He knocked you sideways onto the bed, and you landed on the hand you’d hurt. Before you could let out so much as a sound yourself, Bucky’s voice tore in:

“Schröder.”

Schröder turned. He raised his Ruger to your husband’s head again, as casually as if he’d asked him for the time.

“Yes?”

“Don’t touch her.”

Schröder turned to you. Though he didn’t move the Ruger again, he did point his finger at your form, haplessly curled into itself amidst the covers and pillows.

“Why? Saving all the rough stuff for later, are we?”

You cowered as his free hand reached for you, and just as your husband’s eyes went wide and a vein nearly tore through his skin from how hard it protruded, you cried,

“What do you want?!”

Schröder stopped. He brought his hand to a halt just south of your thigh—and then he dropped his weight on the bed beside you. He gestured indistinctly, almost disbelievingly, toward Bucky. The latter appeared near-apoplectic, nails raking down either arm of the chair.

“What do I want?” Schröder quipped, incredulous, “What do you want, doll? To stay married to him?”

And you knew he’d intended the question to be hurtful; you knew it by the glint in his eye, the goading tone of voice and the look he’d flitted to Bucky—nondescript and yet saying a world more than words could ever convey. He knew what had gone on between you, had likely heard your last conversation in its entirety, and was now using it against you. Mostly to taunt, then to injure your husband with truths he hadn’t yet uncovered himself.

Schröder’s eyes were shining with sadistic delight as he took your hand in his. He didn’t waste another second.

“No, no, that isn’t what you want at all, is it?”

Ignoring the screech of Bucky’s restraints as he tried to lunge out of his chair. Hearing him curse when he failed.

“—you said you’re leaving him, right?”

Schröder slid the thin, glistening ring off the hand he’d been holding before you could even think to stop him.

“—said you want a divorce, is that it?”

Then his grin got so big and conceited and enlivened by the sight of pain working its way onto Bucky’s face that any good sense you’d had left inside you was abandoned in a blink. You didn’t hesitate, or else try and make a pass to retrieve your ring—you just hit the man in the face.

Your fist was small, and his chin was hard. You knew before you ever threw the punch that it’d probably hurt you more than him, but you did it anyway. It succeeded, at the very least, in catching Schröder by surprise and swiftly pissing him off. Seeing this and feeling a bit bolder, you were somehow able to dodge his hands when he lurched for you again. Inside, your own anger flared.

“Why the fuck do you care?” you spat.

You found momentary respite in the corner of the bed, sliding back against a wall that would only protect you for so long. As soon as Schröder regained his bearings, he had you back in his sights and his grasp just as quick.

He dragged you back. He pulled you up. He dug the tips of his fingers so hard into your side that you thought the flesh might tear in two across your ribs. But it didn’t. Crescent-like indentations did leave their mark in a grisly set of five, though. You felt the sting of it as Schröder loosened his grip, then sucked his next breath through his teeth as if calming himself. Your gaze only hardened.

“I care,” he said, once he’d completed this slow inhale. He replaced his touch by pinching your face in one hand and bringing it up to his, expression more like a snarl. Then, raising the gun to your face in his other hand, “because I made a deal with your father. Remember?”

You did. Your head jerked back by force of instinct, but he held it. From every direction, then, you had nothing to hear but the sound of your own pulse thrumming a fast, panicked tempo in your skull. You tasted blood in your mouth without a drop on your tongue. And, had that deafening fear and revulsion been anything less, you likely would’ve heard something else beneath it all.

Would’ve felt it, if you weren’t already so numb: Schröder’s hand sliding its way down your body, diamond ring still stuck to the tip of his index finger. You sensed it as though seeing yourself from another perspective—watching his hand trail lower, lower, lower until something in Bucky split in two and he bellowed:

“SCHRÖDER—”

He said something more after that; you were sure of it. You just couldn’t hear him, or see him, or discern much of anything else but your own racing heart as the man who’d just beat your husband twice and lifted a gun to your head proceeded to press his touch to your belly. Almost conscientious and gentle as he lowered it.

“Was this part of the deal, too, doll?”

Your eyes widened. Realizing—then feeling fear seize you completely. Forgetting the metal at your temple and shaking your head with a force, but slow enough that your husband wouldn’t see it. Meanwhile, across from you both, Bucky seemed more than sufficiently occupied by his own blinding rage—he spit a glob of blood to the floor and, with his teeth bared again, swore he’d kill him.

Over and over and over again, oaths of taking Schröder’s life and making it gruesome and painful and slow filled your ears, but none of it stuck, for either you or Schröder. Instead, your maniacal captor just smiled, leaning in.

“I said, was this part of the deal, Mrs. Barnes?”

The heel of his palm sank into your stomach, and as the shock of his first words began to fade, a pain replaced it. His hand made an impressive demonstration of flattening and forcing itself so hard against the skin that a flurry of stars cropped up in your eyes, and you cried:

“Stop! I-It wasn’t— just— just stop. Stop.”

“Stop? Was it part of the deal or not?”

Schröder bore down even harder.

“It just happened!” you keened. Unsure why you felt compelled to answer for what had gone on at all—addressing the baby in this awful, oblique way—though reckoning it had something to do with the pressure he was applying to your stomach. You tried to squirm back.

But your stuttering pulse and your pleading gaze and the ache in your stomach proved to be all too much for any real progress to be made. You’d scarcely moved off an inch before he drove his palm deeper, and with the agony of a body about to rupture beneath it, a shriek clawed out of your throat. Your mouth fell open, and for once, you couldn’t curtail the pain, or fear. Schröder’s hand had just forced the noise from your mouth, along with some mindless, broken pleas to stop pushing, it hurts, please, please, when the face above yours only brightened. Schröder’s cruel, snide mouth flashed a smile above you, and before you could whine again—

He kissed you.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second.

Still, the moment seemed to stretch indefinitely. And felt perverse. So deeply nauseating and unsettling to every last nerve, muscle, tendon, and bone in your body that the response it evoked could be nothing less than visceral. You didn’t need to think at all to shove him off. Whatever might’ve given you pause with a loaded gun to your head was forgotten in a second, and soon enough, you weren’t alone in letting your reproach be known.

It started off with a crack, then a harsh, crude splintering of wood. A violent rift, from what you could hear of it, and when you turned your head, your suspicions were confirmed: Bucky had snapped half the arm of his chair away from the seat, and his right hand was almost freed.

Whatever barrier he faced in being bound more than four times over with rope seemed immaterial to him now. He could strain as hard as he pleased—feel the coarse synthetic fibers dig into his flesh and leave streaks of red, if not break the skin itself—and any pain, as before, hardly appeared to register with your husband at all. He just muscled through it, thrusting his wrist even harder. The whole force of this movement rocked the chair on its legs, and just when you sensed it might collapse beneath his weight, you felt Schröder stand up. The man didn’t need to move too far or do much else other than drop his hold on you and flip his gun to point it at Bucky instead.

Even when he had, though, Bucky didn’t flinch. His hands were in fists and his drive was like a machine’s—he tried forcing his way out of the right hand’s restraints, and the second the wood gave way, he was shoving it off.

Blind to the firearm Schröder was holding, or his words:

“Stay where you are, Barnes.”

Bucky was just then shaking off the rope that had been loosened by the break in the wood, jaw still tight as ever.

“You’ve got three other limbs to free, my friend, just—”

Schröder was still speaking when you saw his finger slip to the trigger, and it seemed to you it was itching to pull.

“James, stop!”

That plea came from you. More of a strangled cry, really—no more pleasant for either man to hear than it was for your throat to shriek. It did, however, stop Bucky cold. Your husband paused just long enough to meet your gaze. And in it, you saw, at least, that he was all there, if not enraged. But not soldat, or anyone else but himself.

You sighed in relief, despite what seeing two red rivers seeping out of Bucky’s mouth might otherwise provoke.

It was him. You might’ve smiled if another hadn’t cut in.

Schröder seized Bucky’s wrist. With it, you saw his hand just as mangled and bloodied as his lips. Knuckles cracked, slit, and soon to be littered with bruises of every shade, he shocked you again by how calmly he took it. Even when Schröder sank a thumb inside a big, gaping crater of a flesh wound he’d found on the back of his hand, your husband didn’t blink; he just looked at you.

‘I’m sorry.’

When the barrel of the gun returned to his head—this time, at the rear, as Schröder had circled back around the half-broken chair and was leaning over him—you could see the apology lodged in his eyes on full display.

“For safekeeping.” The man wielding the gun seemed almost pleased as he dropped your ring inside the breast pocket of your husband’s shirt, before patting it gently:

“Now where were we?”

A beat. Bucky’s right hand twitched beside him, but evidently, he knew better than to move in that moment.

“Right, right—” Schröder pretended to be remembering, tapping steel to Bucky’s skull, “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”

More silence.

You wanted to speak, beg Schröder for mercy, anything.

“Do you know why that is, Bucky?”

But before you could utter even a word of protest, the voice pressed on. Schröder was leaning in his ear.

“—what you did to her?”

The baby. Brooklyn. All the bloodshed that had ensued last week, leaving your husband completely in the dark. Of course, he couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been himself, and was scarcely more able to control his actions as the Winter Soldier than he could in a dream.

To your horror, Schröder reached down for Bucky’s hand, and, still holding the gun to him with the other, lifted it.

Pointed it.

Pushed it closer to you.

“C’mon, Buck. You don’t want me touching her, right? Why don’t you feel for yourself what she’s been hiding?”

Your blood turned to ice. You’d never felt so immobile—paralyzed—in your life, but seeing the hands drift closer and closer and feeling defenseless to their course, your body went numb. Your limbs grew heavier than lead.

And when you felt the smug, smiling blond guide your husband’s touch toward your head, you understood it all.

You were perched at the edge of the bed a foot away. Schröder was nudging Bucky forward in his chair, urging him to reach out and tilt her chin a little, go on, that’s it. And neither one of you had a choice, so he touched you. His fingers, directed by someone else, were obliged to brush the skin of your chin, your jaw, your cheek, and your brow, before finally settling above your left temple.

Your husband felt the cut—touched the stitches.

You winced, but not from any physical pain. It was Bucky’s face as the tips of his fingers skimmed the wound. The look of chagrin that crossed his eyes. Then bewilderment. Fear, as plain as anyone could see it— was he the cause of that? Had the hurt been from him?

You couldn’t bear to answer him, so you looked away. It was Schröder, again, who had all the power to speak.

“Can’t remember pushing her down?” he said, tone dark, “Making her split her head open on the bedside table because soldat didn’t know his own strength—only that he had to keep her safe—and sensed a threat outside?”

Bucky shook his head. His face was grave.

Schröder kept making him prod the skin.

“It’s bruised here, too. You feel it?”

Your husband did, and you thought it might break him. So tender and forlorn were the eyes, raking over every spot where a touch, his touch, had left you hurt before.

If nothing else could bring you back to your senses, the wounded look in Bucky’s gaze was sure to get it done.

You hardly thought again, just croaked: ‘It’s not his fault.’

Schröder’s hand then descended your neck, your torso.

As if he hadn’t heard you at all—

“You already saw what happened to her hand.”

—and forcing Bucky’s touch lower still.

“But what about here?”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt your husband’s hand come to rest on your stomach.

It was like a fire had ignited in your lower half, and nothing close to the soft, pleasurable kind. Not the flutter felt in anticipation of a touch from your husband, not the desirous sort. In fact, you dreaded it now; seeing Schröder over his shoulder, urging him closer, making him flatten his big, broad, scorching palm over your belly.

What should’ve been the ecstatic scene you’d conjured in your mind at least a hundred times since marrying him—the picture of domestic bliss as you said it, smiling, I’m pregnant—was now nothing short of torture. Choice all but stripped from you here, forced to emerge inside this terrible place, you found yourself needing to shrink back, shake your head, look to Schröder’s stubborn, unyielding gaze and beg him not to make you do this now. Not now.

Not here, with Bucky’s skin a shade of glacial white and his eyes going wide, taking on a look you’d never seen.

“What do you—”

He stared hard at the hand on your belly, but it didn’t last for long. As if realization were trying to seep in, he couldn’t meet it. His eyes flitted back to your face.

“Baby, what’s—” he tried again, stammering.

“—right, that’s it, Mr. Barnes.” That was Schröder.

Satisfied in the suspense of the moment keeping your husband still, he lifted his hand from Bucky’s and snapped, that’s it, and clapped him over the shoulder.

Congratulating him before the truth had even sunk in.

“A baby, that’s right! You’re going to be a father, Buck.”

And how far was the look on Bucky’s face from the one you’d dreamed before. The lips you’d envisioned in a smile now twisting bleakly, parting slightly, and the eyes you’d once hoped to be bright and elated only staring back with rings of red enveloping the irises. Whatever tears formed at his waterline were decidedly not of joy.

Only guilt.

“You did it.”

Desperation.

More moisture in his eyes as his hand started to tremble across your stomach, voice hoarse and soft, “Is it true?”

You didn’t need to nod. You just watched him, let your own eyes fill with the worst, stinging tears you had felt in your life, and from the silence that followed, Bucky knew.

As if the life beneath his palm were something dear, but still too much for him to comprehend, he shook his head. He stroked his thumb over the cotton of your pyjamas and tried inching closer, as much as his restraints would allow him. Then, with words that were audibly strained, but always gentle, he lowered his voice—as if to keep the communication between you two, despite your position:

“I love you.”

His hand was still on your belly as he said it. He reached up to cup your face. Even lower than before, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

That much was evident from every look he’d given you tonight. Every move he made a de facto apology, all actions in the vein of atonement, it couldn’t possibly escape your mind or his that he knew he’d done wrong. It was only a matter of accepting this—maybe coming to terms with the fact that your life wasn’t safe in his hands—for the guilt plaguing Bucky to multiply. Paralyze him.

There was no better time for Schröder to strike. Just as the anguish had flooded Bucky’s face completely, and his hand had had to lower itself from want of strength, a sound split the air. Bucky was so lost in his thoughts that it didn’t even register at first, but the impact was real, and it was harsh: Schröder punched him squarely in the jaw. The next, swift snap was his nasal bone taking a blow, and breaking beneath it. Blood breezed down and into his mouth. Feeling warm, his lips and chin doused in a second, he sensed nothing else. He might’ve groaned.

He caught another swift right hook, and his mind went blank. Nothing of substance threatened to materialize between his ears, save for the rush of blood through and from his skull and the dim recognition of something ugly.

Something horrific.

He couldn’t protect you.

His body was as much an idle waste as it was a danger. Useless now, as he was tied to this chair, and a risk to your well-being even if he weren’t. The hazard was him.

Schröder hit him again, and Bucky realized that the ringing he’d heard in his ears was your screaming.

“I’m doing her a favor,” Schröder spat before shoving him back in the chair, almost knocking it sideways.

The blond advanced with ease. His knuckles were drenched in blood; none of it was his. When he reached for Bucky again, the resistance was slight, and a simple, firm grip on the collar was all that was needed to drag his frame to sit straight. Bucky was barely upright for a second before the next—and worst—blow struck his face. His whole head rang with it, reeling, but still, he could make out the words as they were spoken to him.

“She’ll never be safe with you, Barnes. Never—” and at the last, Schröder lowered his gun. Started to loosen the rope from Bucky’s left arm, “—I could free you now, and you still wouldn’t get within an inch of what you want.”

He nudged the rope away and let it fall to the floor. Bucky lifted his hand, but the effort was in vain. No sooner had a finger of his stirred than Schröder was delivering a kick to the chair and letting it splinter. Topple. Skitter a half-foot across the hardwood floor with Bucky’s ankles still bound to it, before finally, gracelessly, breaking apart.

Bucky was on the floor, blinking through a stream of blood and a sea of muddied thoughts when Schröder kicked the chair again. The rope slackened some more.

“Her own father knew as much, so he made me a deal to take her off of your hands. Settle his debts the way he should’ve done the first time around,” Schröder said, and now his tone was lower. Lethal as it ever was, and stern.

“I know how much you hate to lose your playthings, Buck, but this one’s better off with me, I promise.”

And, as if to emphasize his point, Schröder turned and reached for you. Bucky’s own hands were slow, fumbling in fits and bursts to get the rope unwound from his ankles, but they were determined. He just couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, the ringing to subside, or his brain, in its concussed state, to let him move with a little more agility. He’d been hit too many times. He could barely lift his head off his shoulders and hold it straight, so he was forced to stay where he was, keep at his task, and listen.

“You’re weak when you’re not soldat.”

Using his knuckles, Schröder brushed the blood that was evidently all Bucky’s across your cheek, and you flinched.

“When you make the switch, still…you’re inhuman.”

Then he tilted your head, making you show them both the mutilated, stitched-up flesh above your temple. Again, you tried to slink away, but his touch was firm.

“Don’t you think your bride deserves better than that? Your child? Forced to live in fear of that thing you are?”

Blood coursed down Bucky’s face, and his lips were curled apart in a grimace, mouth hanging slightly ajar. His eyes fixed their look on you. The rope was undone.

He’d just started to try and stand when the edge of his vision blurred. He felt the lacerations in his face pulse as one, and with it, half his sight went skewed to the left. Schröder couldn’t help but crack a smile seeing him stumble, pitch back, and barely catch himself on the bedside table. When he stood, he was mostly hunched.

“Look at you, Buck. You can’t try and save her like this,” Schröder taunted, drawing you closer, “So stop trying.”

The man’s hand was like ice holding your face. The grip grew tighter when he saw your husband limping your way, and before either one of you could move, the index of Schröder’s other hand had slid down to the trigger. He didn’t wait to give another warning before he did it—just pointed the gun and fired one shot over Bucky’s head.

His aim was good. The bullet missed your husband by less than an inch. The gun had gone off by your ear, and immediately, you seized the side of your head as a sharp, searing pain cropped up. Your skull was still ringing when you heard the thing discharge again, and you realized it had been aimed at Bucky’s neck. He’d ventured another step, and Schröder had fired a second round to graze the top of his shoulder. Crimson bloomed through his shirt.

Bucky should’ve stumbled again. He might’ve staggered back with a grunt of pain, lifted a quick, reflexive hand to feel the wound, but the sense of it all was slow to reach him. The moments that passed him were delayed just the same, as if the world around him were distorted—the fibers of time tugged and stretched before his eyes—and he could hardly keep himself straight. When he got another look down the barrel of the gun, he didn’t blink. Couldn’t see, really. It was all misshapen sights and sounds and a dim recognition that his mind was in a fog.

Somewhere from within that mist, he heard, faintly:

“I’ll go— I’ll go— I’ll go with you, I’ll go— just stop.”

Schröder turned to you, and the smile that he wore was cruel, but Bucky wasn’t able to make out the expression.

All he could see then, to the faintest extent, was you—your face, gripped hard in another man’s hand, eyes pleading and wet with tears, and a slightly slack jaw.

“Leave him for me?” Schröder repeated, sneering.

You nodded. Blinked. Rolled your tongue along the inside of your cheek before pulling it back and biting down once. There was a hint of a wince in your eyes, but, from what Bucky could tell, it vanished just as fast as it came.

Your lips parted again. Your eyes widened a little.

“So the girl has some fucking sense.” That was Schr��der.

He’d had his weapon re-holstered and your face firmly seized in both of his hands in no more than a second.

What came next surprised no one, though the sensations of disgust and rage were as quick to turn a stomach as the shock would have done. Schröder bent down and, having pulled your face closer to his, kissed you again.

Schröder’s mouth was glistening with a grin and Bucky’s own blood—smeared all over your face from how hard he’d been holding you—when he looked up and turned.

“Sensible and sweet, isn’t she? Tastes like it, too.”

Bucky saw nothing but red. It wasn’t just blood crowding his vision now but violence and rancor and outright hatred, stirring his limbs to start moving again when the rest of his body was plainly too battered to venture an inch in that condition. He staggered again, watched you again, and had made it almost halfway across the room when another sight slowed him, if only for a moment.

Schröder’s lips were back on yours, as if to mock him, but what startled him, really, was the way you’d opened your mouth. You couldn’t mean it. Clearly. Schröder was gripping your jaw, forcing it open—it had to be—and he was coaxing your tongue out from inside and weaving it with his. Once more, time moved like molasses, and that was all your husband had had to see: you kissing him back, gripping his arm through the thick, black tactical gear, and still parting your lips more and more for him. Like you needed a touch, or something, worse than ever.

That stalled Bucky, though he was nowhere close to stopping now. Briefly preoccupied, and seemingly shocked as well that you’d accepted the kiss so eagerly this time, Schröder didn’t see the approach. If he had, he likely would’ve turned and made a move for his Ruger, but as it was, he had only to blink—and there was Bucky.

He hit him with a force that was blinding, directly to the side of his head so hard that he’d had no choice but to separate from you. Schröder was stunned one second and on the floor in the next. Bucky threw him there, kicked him down, and, wavering for only a moment to cock back the shoulder that’d been shot, he ignored the pain and punched the man again. And again. And again.

There was a callousness, an indolence, and an ease with which he was able to inflict the pain, that much was evident. What didn’t seem so natural, at least in Bucky’s mind, was the weight that was in his hands: Schröder’s body felt limp before he’d even landed the second blow.

The pressure grew heavier and heavier in his hands the harder, and more frequently, he delivered each hit, but for now, he didn’t care. Bucky kept on punching until the face beneath him was gnarled and bloody, and his own fist, too, slashed every which way with more cuts than he was able to count. He would’ve kept going—could’ve ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder for as long as it would take to ensure the man was dead—but as it was, he refused to ignore the voice he heard. It was yours.

Muffled now, as your body was bent to the side and your head drooped lower still. Your voice was soft but clear:

“Bucky, please, stop.”

He did.

He dropped the man’s collar from his hands as soon as he’d heard you say it, and he turned away as if nothing had transpired behind him at all. His focus was on you.

“Baby—”

To his surprise, he watched you spit on the floor.

Your face was grim and almost sick, and you spit again.

The look grew even worse, and afterward, you didn’t waste a second more; you stood and left the room.

Bucky was stunned at first, and his instinct had been to follow. Then he heard a rattling sound beside him. He glanced down and paled, seeing Schröder there.

His face had turned blue much sooner than Bucky had expected—and not from any bruising but a lack of oxygen in his lungs. He was choking, foaming slightly at the mouth while he gasped for air. Surely, it hadn’t been the hits that caused it. The whites of Schröder’s eyes were as conspicuous as he’d ever seen them. Desperate.

Bucky swiftly got the sense that the life of his former captor was lost, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to watch him die. He left what remained of Schröder’s form to continue writhing on the floor, choking and sputtering for a breath that would never come, and went after you.

Downstairs, he found you hunched over the kitchen sink—spitting, retching, and trembling, too, but breathing.

You let the water from the faucet fill your mouth, and you rinsed again. You winced as something stuck your cheek.

Bucky drew closer, quickly, and when he was right by your side, he saw you spit a shard of glass into the sink. He looked over to the counter, and he spotted three more

They were minuscule, really. Nothing quite the size to leave a wound too deep, but sharp enough to cut your lips, your tongue, or the insides of your cheeks. When Bucky leaned in, he saw droplets of red joining the flow of the water beneath it. You coughed over and over again

“Don’t,” you croaked, seeing Bucky reach for the glass.

Before he could reply: “It’s the poison. From Madripoor.”

Your husband’s blood went cold in his veins. He didn’t touch the glass, but he did press closer to you, feeling his insides churn as the cogs started to turn in his head.

The vial of poison you’d been given to slip in Schröder’s drink at the Foxy Den—how the hell had you gotten it back? Why would you think you needed it, if he— but no, that couldn’t be the case. There wasn’t a shot you just—

“—put it in your mouth?” Bucky couldn’t curb the fear in his voice. He reached for you and spun you to face him.

“Did it kill him?”

Your eyes were wide for entirely different reasons. Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing; his mouth was dry.

“I didn’t want to kiss him,” you went on, voice shaking a little, “I didn’t— I just— I couldn’t get him the poison any other way. I knew he’d kiss me again, and when he did—”

“I know,” Bucky said. He smoothed the hair from your face, shaking his head. Feeling his stomach clench with fear and dread as he hurried to get a look in your mouth.

You’d snuck the vial inside your cheek, then crushed it between your teeth before Schröder had kissed you. You’d all but forced him to swallow the poison, shoving your tongue down his throat, but what of the stuff that remained? The rough, trembling fingers of Bucky’s hand were trying to pry your lips apart as gently as they could, ensure all the serum was out, but at present, you wouldn’t let him. You pushed back gently, though not too far to prevent your own touch from roaming his shoulder.

“The bullet—” you started.

“Barely nicked me,” Bucky cut in, “Baby, I need to see—”

That you’re safe. That you won’t be hurt in any way. He couldn’t finish the thought himself, having seen what the poison did to Schröder. Instead, he just held you closer and fought the lump that was starting to form in his throat. Adrenaline had worked well enough to clear his mind of the haze, but the rest of him was all high-strung.

Your clothes clung to you both, wet with blood and sweat. Your breaths were fast. Your expressions were feral, eyes no calmer as they scanned over the other’s form and soaked in every trace of what had happened. Bucky in his formalwear and you in something close to a chemise—like your honeymoon night all over again—you each got a glimpse of the gore ornamenting yourselves and let the room fall quiet, if only for a minute or two.

Your husband was the one to break the silence, at length, with cracked and grisly hands sliding down to your hips.

“You’re okay?”

His touch shifted you back in place to sit on the counter.

“I’m alright.”

You wanted to say more; assure him, in a voice as sedate as you could manage, that this wasn’t his fault. Whether he would believe a word of what you said was a separate question, but, at any rate, it didn’t matter. The next thing you knew, Bucky was slotting himself in the space between your legs and pulling you into his arms.

In spite of himself and all the wounds, he held you tight.

“You’re alright,” he repeated.

His face sank into the crook of your neck, and you felt his muscles contract again—pulling you closer—as he drew a shaky breath against your skin. You hugged him back.

“Are you?” Your voice was small.

In a blink, Bucky resurfaced. He lifted his head from your neck and, still holding you, hadn’t seemed to have heard.

“The baby,” he said quickly.

He stepped back. Lowered his gaze and his hands to trail over your hips and near your stomach, and he stared, as if trying to make sense of something dire. His blue eyes were wide, and they assumed such a look of panic that you feared a blood vessel might actually burst in one.

After all the great lengths he’d gone to, ensuring you were safe and taking extra precautions, on the off-chance you might be pregnant, here you were.

And there he went, sliding his touch lower and lower again until his hand was pressed into your belly, and the gaze you’d once thought soft before had all but melted into tenderness—delicacy. Complete, loving unreserve.

When his eyes met yours a second time, they were shiny.

Wet with the only kind of tears you’d want to see in them.

“You’re really…” he started, just to taper off, blinking.

And then his cheeks were dotted with the tiny, round droplets, and he’d finally ventured a smile for the first time in what seemed like ages and you couldn’t keep from reaching for him. The second you’d lifted your arms you were back in his, lips and nose smushed against the front of his stained white button-up and breathing deep.

Or trying to, anyway. Bucky had you squeezed so tight to his chest you had nothing but his shirt to inhale at first. You didn’t mind, and when he pulled away a moment later, you realized that your eyes, too, were filling up quick. You had to steel yourself against a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to emerge—the aftermath of a half-dozen traumas laid bare over the last hour—but the longer you were here, and the more your husband stared at you like that, the quicker your courage was depleted. In the span of five seconds, your senses were shot to hell. All you could think was what you could feel, and all you felt was Bucky: his arms and his hands and the raw, blistering heat between your bodies. The rest was noise.

It surprised you both when you kissed him. Physically, your mouth and his were hardly up to do it, injured as they were, but the impulse was strong, and it flowed between you. As soon as your lips latched onto his, Bucky was holding your face, molding his body to yours without so much as a second thought, and the mouth you met was sturdy. Hungry in the way it kissed back.

A string of words from Schröder flashed in your mind—‘Never be safe’—and you grit your teeth together, snagging the cusp of Bucky’s lower lip as you did it. He groaned. Before you could even try to apologize, though, he was gripping your face harder in his hands and coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. His front was still flush with yours, and your legs were starting to wind around his hips. Your husband nudged you back against the cabinets, and from the force of that push, you felt it.

Felt him.

Surely, it had had to take two very fucked up individuals to get all hot and bothered from a bloodbath that had just taken place; but, again, here you were—together.

And there you went, grinding your lower half with his.

“Doll?” Bucky broke out, word slurred just a little.

For a second, you thought he was going to stop you. Your eyes scanned his, and you were already planning to apologize for being so horny, it must just be the—

“You know I love you, right?” he breathed.

You blinked. You were about to nod, when you felt the bulge in his slacks start to rub against your barely-clothed heat, and something akin to a shockwave coursed through your frame. It couldn’t be helped. A monsoon of hyper-sensitized pleasure trembled over the skin in a way you’d never felt it before, and suddenly you were letting out a moan: a muffled cry of, ‘Yes, I-I know.’

Your husband swallowed and stared, slightly taken aback by the reaction his erection had produced. He’d never felt that either. At least from what he could remember.

The truth was that he’d never had a pregnant wife before—someone whose body was now extraordinarily responsive to his touch, nearly aching for him.

When you scooted your butt to the edge of the counter and dug your heels in the backs of his legs, humping him, almost, he got the idea. Bucky swallowed again.

“I love you too, I— I—” you started, already out of breath, “I just really need you to fuck me. Can you— please—”

Bucky didn’t need to be asked once, much less twice. He already had his belt, button, and zip undone before you could even look down, and then your own pyjama shorts were sliding off too. The counter was cool against your skin, but your husband’s warmth was more than enough to compensate for the loss. You smiled again, sheepish.

“It’s just…hormones,” you said, quieter toward the end.

You weren’t sure why you felt so ashamed to simply say, ‘James, I’ve been damn near insane with desire ever since you put a baby in me. Can you give me five more?’ But you did. You felt your cheeks start to heat as your lower half was left exposed to the air, and Bucky slipped his hand down between your legs, practically groaning:

“Honey, you’re soaked.”

There wasn’t one iota of shame in his tone.

He was more than happy to find you drenched beneath his touch. He had a smile on his face and a warmth bleeding from every fingertip as he caressed that soft, tender spot. You didn’t need to tell him what was on your mind, either. He sensed something was making you shy, and rather than have you say it aloud, he just touched you gentler, stroked the skin more affectionately, and tilted his head so only you could hear him, quiet as ever:

“That’s my girl. Feeling good for me?”

You felt your heartbeat between your thighs.

“My baby,” Bucky went on, voice dulcet and slow.

Your body was trembling at the edge, waiting. Impatient.

“My wife,” he said that with a smile, into your neck.

He lowered you onto his length, and you whined.

“Mother of my child.” The smile got bigger.

You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Feeling him slide inside the most precious, wet, pliable part of you, stretching you out, you couldn’t help the sounds you made. You felt full in a whole new way; the groan Bucky let out when you were impaled down to the base of his cock said he shared the feeling. He throbbed inside you.

“You’re—fuck.” Bucky’s words broke off at the sensation.

Your walls were as slick as ever, your body delicate, rolling your hips to the first gentle thrusts that his shaft carved inside. Neither one of you could last long like this.

Still, at the threat of sublime pleasure, you felt fear, briefly: Schröder’s implacable stare—and the thousands more like him in HYDRA. You couldn’t help but grip Bucky tighter, willing these thoughts away with the rhythm of your body over his. Feeling him fill you up, fuck you with quick, deliberate thrusts and hold you, ‘That’s it, take what you need, sweet girl, you’re okay.’

You wished you were. You wanted to be. With every stab of Bucky’s hips, you hoped this would be the last night you ever feared for you or your child’s life, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. This was everything your husband’s varied ‘enterprises’ entailed, and a life with him meant never knowing a day without it—fear.

The head of Bucky’s cock grazed an especially sensitive ridge in your walls, and you whimpered into his shoulder.

You smelled blood.

He pushed you back against the counter and pounded harder, breaths heavy and labored and gruff as he spoke:

“You’re okay, baby, it’s alright.”

Your mind tried clinging to that thought, nodding along as if to convince yourself. The pleasure grew stronger, and your body was hot. Everything was heightened. Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes or his lips or his rough, bloodied touch from roaming you wherever he could reach, and he kept rutting his hips, assuring you gently, again and again, that it was all okay. He was right here.

The pleasure from the depths of your body was beyond your control—you couldn’t help it when the band inside of you snapped. You held Bucky closer and you moaned, more desperate and needy and soaking for him, taking something from him, and knowing the bliss you felt would only steal the dark thoughts for a moment or two.

Bucky’s eyes said it just the same. He couldn’t keep stuffing you full, feeling his pleasure hit its peak, and finally painting your insides without sharing that look.

You were less than halfway down from your highs when you felt him go still, panting fast, then hold your face.

“I love you.”

It was desperate. Hoping for something.

“I love you, too,” you told him, and you meant it.

But there was more. Both of you knew there was more.

“I can’t be married to you, Bucky.”

You didn’t know why it had to come out now, but the emotions were there—his gaze had all but drawn it out.

Still sheathed inside you, your husband tensed. He looked as if he might try and shake his head, but the movement was stalled by his own momentary shock. He’d known the words were coming, but the sound of you saying them now wasn’t any less jarring to hear. Before he could reply, you found yourself cutting back in:

“Not now, at least. We need some…time. To think.”

You weren’t sure what you were saying, just that your lips were moving and every new word was hurting him more.

“Even with Schröder gone, there are so many…dangers for both—or, all—of us, and I don’t know…I just can’t—”

—imagine bringing a child into a world like this. Like his.

You didn’t need to say it.

The pain in Bucky’s eyes already communicated as much, and the conviction in your own only convinced him that you’d meant it—and what you said was the truth. You couldn’t stay in a marriage that wasn’t safe.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something more, the man surprised you when he squeezed your hand.

Nodding, almost imperceptibly, in front of you.

“I can wait,” he said, “Whenever you’re ready, doll.”

His voice was hoarse, words strained from the lump in his throat as he spoke, but the message was sincere.

“Whenever you feel safe,” he added, softly.

You wanted to hold him again. Like before, your eyes began well with something stinging and harsh, but the look you’d fixed on him was filled with nothing but love. You would’ve reached for him then, if he hadn’t moved his hand to his pocket. He felt around inside it, briefly.

Then Bucky retrieved your wedding ring.

Holding you up against him, pressed snugly into the counter with your legs still wrapped around his lower half, he pinched the silver band between his forefinger and thumb and held it up to you. It glistened in the light.

“The next time you wear it, I want it to be because you chose to marry me. Not for anything, or anyone, else.”

Nothing arranged, no game, no being forced to stay.

You nodded and had to blink through a layer of tears.

Bucky’s thumb traced the moisture, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. He’d had to keep blinking himself, and before you could reach for him, he kissed you.

“I really hope you marry me again one day, Mrs. Barnes.”

You smiled, having parted but still holding on.

“I think I would like that, too. One day.”

The next thing you heard was a sound at the front door: what sounded like a crash. Half a dozen sets of feet stumbling inside, crowding the foyer, making a loud, frantic clamor that you and Bucky knew only too well. The two of you scrambled to get your clothes back on as Steve, Nat, Sam, and Sharon all seemed to yell at once.

You had one hell of a story to tell them.

Taglist: @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @wilsons-striped-ties @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @lunaroserites @first-edition @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @mostlymarvelgirl @yujyujj @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @5thgoddess @oogaboogabeepboop @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @mimimarvelingmarvel @counteveresttt @thepetitemandalorian @diannana @aagn360 @aka-tua-braindump @shortnloud @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @ladyvenera @gyokujyn @bigtreefest @winterschildren8 @mega-kittyglitter-1

[a-lexia11]

Womanizer (Part 2)

Fuckboy!Alexia Putellas x reader

Word count:Around 12k

Warning: HIGHLY suggestive (Minors DNI), some angst

Part 1

That was tougher than Alexia had anticipated. Over the past two weeks, she has struggled intensely to suppress her usual habits—no flirting, no checking out other women, no casual sex.

It's been a challenge she hadn’t fully grasped when she made the bet with you. She’s accustomed to moving from one woman to the next, and this sudden shift is excruciating.

Each day without her usual indulgences feels like a trial, and the thought of enduring another two weeks feels almost unbearable. Yet, this pain dissipates whenever she looks at you.

Your captivating eyes, your radiant smile, your voice—they never fail to leave her in awe of your beauty.

The time you've spent together outside of the store, including with Mia, has only deepened her admiration for you.

When you’re not looking, she finds herself observing you, marveling at the kind of person and mother you are.

Alexia is determined to take you on that date, but she’s realized that her feelings for you extend beyond just physical desire.

She yearns for something deeper, something more meaningful, though she’s unsure how to convey it. Her plan is to show you her seriousness through her actions.

Once you see that she’s committed to this path and genuinely not interested in anyone else, you’ll understand her true intentions.

At the moment, you were behind the register at the store, handling some clients while Alexia carried Mia, helping her reach the flowers she couldn’t quite get.

Carmen was away this week, and she trusted you enough to take care of her store. To ensure you weren’t alone, Alexia was here as often as she could be.

After finishing with a client, you watched as a tall, young, and undeniably attractive woman entered the store—definitely Alexia’s type. You couldn’t wait to see Alexia’s reaction and whether she’d break her bet.

As Alexia and Mia returned to you at the register, Alexia asked, “Mia’s hungry. Did you bring any food, or should I run out and grab something?” She gently placed Mia on the counter while you leaned in to give your daughter a kiss on the cheek.

“No, it’s okay, Ale. I packed something in her backpack in the back room,” you replied. Before you could fetch it, Mia eagerly jumped in, “I’ll go!” She asked Alexia to put her down and ran towards the back room.

Alexia turned to you with a playful grin. “What’s up?” she asked.

“You called me Ale,” Alexia pointed out, still smiling. “You never do. It’s always Alexia… admit it, you like me,” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

You laughed at her antics. “Oh, stop it. It’s just a nickname. Just like you call me ‘guapa’,” you said, and Alexia’s smile widened.

“I know you like me,” she said with a wink.

Just then, the woman from earlier approached Alexia, interrupting your playful exchange. Alexia briefly acknowledged her with a smile before turning back to you.

“Disculpa”the woman said, “¿Podrías, por favor, hacer un ramo con estas flores?” She handed you a handful of flowers she had picked out. (Excuse me,could you please make these into a bouquet?)

“Por supuesto.” you replied, taking the flowers and moving to the counter to start arranging them. (Of course)

Mia reappeared, munching on her sandwich. “Mommy, I found it!” she announced, approaching you.

“Good job, baby. Here, sit down and eat,” you said, pulling out a chair for her. She complied and quietly ate her sandwich.

You glanced over at Alexia and the woman as they engaged in a conversation. The woman seemed to be flirting with Alexia, but to your surprise, Alexia was quite dismissive, not engaging in the flirtation at all.

Leaning in a bit, you tried to catch their conversation. “¿Puedo tener tu número de teléfono? Quizás podríamos volver a vernos.” the woman asked. (Can I have your phone number? Maybe we could meet up again?)

You held your breath, waiting for Alexia’s response. With a firm yet polite tone, Alexia replied, “No, gracias. No estoy interesada.” (No, thank you. I’m not interested.)

You were actually impressed—Alexia had just rejected a beautiful woman. She was serious about the bet, and that realization hit you harder than expected.

The woman didn’t push her luck and, after nodding her head, distracted herself with her phone.

Meanwhile, Alexia had already made her way over to you, casually lifting Mia from her chair and settling her on her lap.

She sat down like it was the most natural thing, Mia cuddling against her easily, a familiar comfort between them that made your heart soften.

As you finished wrapping the bouquet for the woman, you handed it over with a polite smile.

Once she thanked you and left the store, your attention immediately shifted back to Alexia and Mia. Alexia shot you a wink, her smirk playful and full of mischief.

Mia hopped off Alexia’s lap, grabbing her sandwich and skipping toward the back room to announcing that she wanted some water bottle.

The second your daughter was out of sight, you turned toward Alexia, clapping your hands together with exaggerated disbelief.

“I’m impressed. You actually rejected a woman?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Damn, didn’t think you had it in you,” you teased, folding your arms.

Alexia, still lounging in her chair, rolled her eyes dramatically. Before you could react, she grabbed your hand firmly, pulling you toward her until you were standing right between her legs.

Then, with little effort, she slid her hands behind your thighs, forcing you to straddle her lap. You let out a surprised gasp, instinctively wrapping your arms around her shoulders to steady yourself.

“Alexia!” you yelled, your cheeks flushed from the unexpected move. She only grinned, loving how easily she could fluster you.

Her arms circled your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you tightly against her. You could feel the warmth of her body against yours, her breath hot against your ear as she leaned in, her voice dropping low.

“Dios, I can’t wait for the day you scream my name like that when I finally get you in my bed,” she whispered teasingly.

A shiver ran down your spine at her words, and you tried to maintain composure, even as goosebumps spread across your skin.

You slapped her shoulder lightly, trying to regain control of the moment. “You wish,” you muttered, though your voice lacked the firmness you wanted.

Alexia’s hands slid slowly up your waist, her touch gentle and lingering as she looked directly into your eyes. Her expression softened, becoming more sincere.

“I rejected her because I’m only interested in one woman,” she said, her voice more serious now. “Y esa mujer... pronto va a salir conmigo” (And that woman… she’s going to go on a date with me soon.)

You were caught off guard by how genuine she sounded, her gaze locking onto yours with that look of admiration she always had when you weren’t looking.

You hesitated for a moment before letting your hand rest on her cheek, gently caressing her skin. Alexia closed her eyes at the touch, her lips brushing against your palm in a soft, tender kiss.

Before you could get too caught up in the moment, you reminded her, “You’ve still got two weeks left, don’t forget.”

You quickly slipped off her lap, putting some distance between you two before Mia could return and witness anything.

Alexia simply leaned back in her chair, a smug grin spreading across her face. “Two weeks is nothing,” she said confidently, her eyes still fixed on you. “I can do it.”

And from the way she looked at you, part of you believed she just might.

——

The two weeks were almost up, and Alexia hadn’t cracked once. You were impressed. Only two more days to go, and despite all the tempting situations, she hadn’t given in.

Over the past couple of weeks, you’d seen her reject every woman who so much as looked her way, whether at the store, in the street, or when you went out together.

The women barely got a “hola” in before Alexia was shaking her head, firmly saying, “No estoy interesada.” (I’m not interested)

And every single time, she’d wink at you with that familiar smirk, playfully calling you her “future wife.” You’d laugh and shake your head, amused but also undeniably touched by how serious she was about the bet.

But it wasn’t just the rejections that had caught your attention. Watching Alexia with Mia was what really made your heart flutter. Over the weeks, Alexia had become Mia’s favorite person.

She’d take her to the park, push her on the swings, or take her on long walks with Nala. Mia was obsessed, constantly asking when Alexia would be back and begging you to call her whenever she had a new drawing or just to say goodnight.

Alexia was equally as obsessed with Mia—teaching her new Spanish words, cuddling her when she got tired, playing with her... The two had developed a bond that was impossible to ignore.

But today, with just two days left, you decided to test Alexia’s patience a bit more.

You were unloading flowers from a delivery truck at the store, working with Pedro, the delivery guy. He was charming, a bit flirty even, but you hadn’t really engaged—until you saw Alexia walk in.

The moment she spotted you talking to Pedro, her whole demeanor changed. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Pedro like he was some kind of threat.

You smirked inwardly. She was jealous, and you couldn’t resist teasing her a little.

Pedro handed you the delivery papers to sign, standing a little too close as he made small talk. “No te había visto aquí antes. ¿Eres nueva?”he asked with a friendly smile. (I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new?)

“Sí, lo soy.” you responded, watching Alexia out of the corner of your eye. Her expression darkened as Pedro continued chatting with you. (Yes I am)

He then switched to English, showing off a bit. “Ah, you’re not from Spain, huh? You’ve got a lovely accent,” Pedro complimented, leaning in slightly.

Alexia, standing by Carmen, was visibly fuming. She wasn’t even pretending to listen to Carmen anymore.

Her eyes were locked on Pedro, her jaw tight, hands clenched at her sides. Her possessiveness was written all over her face.

Deciding to push it a little further, you laughed softly at one of Pedro’s jokes and lightly touched his arm.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to send Alexia over the edge. She shot forward like a bullet, striding over with a fake smile plastered on her face, her eyes sharp.

Without a word, Alexia slid her arm around your waist and tugged you close to her, forcing you to step away from Pedro.

“Hey, bebé, ¿ya terminaste aquí? Carmen te necesita en la parte de atrás” Alexia said sweetly, though her tone carried a thinly veiled edge. She pressed a soft kiss to your temple, her eyes locked on Pedro the entire time. (Hey, baby, are you done here? Carmen needs you in the back)

“Uh, yeah, I’m done,” you said, hiding your smirk as you pulled back slightly from Alexia’s grip. You thanked Pedro and signed off on the delivery, but Alexia’s hand remained possessively on your waist.

When Pedro finally walked away,but not before looking at you one more time, Alexia’s eyes followed him, her jealousy practically radiating off her in waves.

“Juro que si te mira una vez más… “Alexia muttered under her breath, her hand still gripping your waist protectively. (I swear, if he looked at you one more time…)

“Jealous, are we?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

She scoffed, though her grip on you tightened. “I don’t get jealous.”

You laughed softly, knowing full well that wasn’t true. “Right. Sure.”

Alexia stayed at the store for the rest of the afternoon, supposedly to help Carmen, but you noticed she was really there to keep an eye on you.

Every chance she got, her eyes would dart in your direction, watching how you interacted with customers or the delivery guys.

And every time you acted just a little more friendly than usual—whether it was smiling a bit too much or laughing a little too loud—Alexia’s jaw would tighten, and her mood would darken.

At one point, another delivery guy showed up, and when he asked you about your day, you smiled and answered politely.

Alexia, who had been helping Carmen with a display, immediately stopped what she was doing and moved closer to where you were standing.

Her entire posture screamed protectiveness. She folded her arms and stood just a few feet away, glaring at the guy like he was public enemy number one.

“¿Necesitas ayuda aquí?”Alexia called out loudly, her voice dripping with false politeness. (You need help over here?)

The guy glanced at her, confused, but you shook your head. “No, I’ve got it,” you replied, biting back a grin as Alexia’s eyes narrowed even further.

You were thoroughly enjoying the power you had over her. Alexia was always the one in control, always the one with the upper hand when it came to the women she was with.

But now? Now you had her wrapped around your finger, and it felt incredible.

In the back room, Alexia cornered you, her eyes locking onto yours with a mix of frustration and amusement. “Do you enjoy torturing me?” she asked, her voice teasing yet edged with genuine curiosity as you turned around with a smirk.

“Absolutely,” you replied, savoring the satisfaction of seeing her reaction.

“That’s not fair,” she said, taking a step closer, her body language hinting at playful irritation. “I’m here, stuck not flirting with anyone, while you’re out here flirting with everyone,” she added, her gaze flickering with a mix of challenge and allure.

“Well, let me remind you,” you said, your tone light yet pointed, “it was your idea to avoid flirting and not sleep with anyone just to get a date with me.” You patted her shoulder reassuringly as she let out a huff of frustration.

“I know you’re jealous,” you said, your voice softening, “but don’t worry. In less than two days, it’ll be you I’m going out with, not anyone else… unless, of course, you break first.”

“I won’t break,” Alexia said firmly, her eyes flashing with determination. She moved closer, her hand slipping around your waist as she pulled you into her personal space.

“And after that date, you’ll love it so much that you’ll be begging for another date. Then, you and I will be having the greatest sex of your life,” she added with a cocky smirk, her tone dripping with confidence.

Lately, Alexia had become increasingly touchy with you, and though it was a change, you were thoroughly enjoying the closeness.

“Oh, really?” you whispered into her ear, your arms wrapping around her neck, the intimacy making your heart race.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “And I assured you you’ll be begging for more” She buried her nose in your hair, her voice trailing off as she inhaled deeply.

“I find that hard to believe,” you said, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze. Her expression softened, the playfulness in her eyes turning to something more tender.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said softly, her eyes locking with yours. The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat.

“I can’t wait for you to be mine,” Alexia continued, her tone earnest. “I’ll take care of you in every way you deserve, and I’ll make sure Mia is well cared for, too.” Her hand caressed your back gently, the tenderness of her touch almost making you swoon.

Her words were like a balm to your heart. She knew how to touch you deeply, speaking to both your own feelings and your love for Mia.

You smiled, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek. “I really hope that after this bet, you’ll still be able to keep your eyes and hands to yourself. Because, honestly, I want that too,” you confessed, your voice filled with gentle sincerity.

“I promised you,” Alexia said, leaning her forehead against yours, her eyes locked onto yours with unwavering sincerity. “I’m only interested in you, no one else…” she assured, her voice soft but filled with confidence.

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief and affection. You kissed her cheek one last time before smiling, which she returned warmly. As you both walked out of the back room, you hoped with all your heart that her promise was true.

With each passing day, you were falling deeper for her, and the thought of heartbreak was becoming increasingly unbearable.

——

Today was finally here—date day. Alexia had truly impressed you by sticking to her commitment, and you were genuinely surprised by her dedication.

You approached Carmen, who was busy arranging flowers behind the counter. “Carmen, I was wondering if you could watch Mia tonight,” you asked, hoping she’d be available.

“Of course, I’d be happy to. Are you going out?” Carmen replied, her voice warm with curiosity.

“Yes, I have a date,” you said with a casual shrug. Carmen’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement.

“A date? That’s wonderful! Let me guess—it’s with Alexia?” Carmen asked, her smile widening as she glanced at you.

“Yes, how did you figure that out?” you asked, intrigued by her insight.

“Por favor! It’s been pretty obvious with the way you two have been looking at each other lately. You’ve definitely gotten closer,” Carmen said, her tone full of knowing amusement.

“Yeah, we did. We actually made a bet. If Alexia could go a month without flirting or being with anyone else, I’d go on a date with her,” you explained, smiling.

“Wow, she really pulled it off?” Carmen’s eyes were wide with astonishment.

“Yes, she did,” you confirmed, chuckling at her reaction.

“She must really like you,” Carmen said thoughtfully. “You know, Alexia has changed a lot since she met you. I can see it in the way she looks at you—there’s a genuine happiness in her eyes now,” Carmen added softly, her gaze filled with warmth.

You smiled, touched by her observation. Carmen knew Alexia like her own daughter, so her acknowledgment of this change meant a lot to you.

“I’ve noticed it too,” you admitted. “She’s been amazing with Mia and with me. It’s like she’s become a different person in the best way.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Carmen said, her smile gentle. “You both deserve to be happy. Enjoy your date tonight, and don’t worry about Mia—she’ll be in good hands.”

“Thank you, Carmen,” you said, your gratitude evident in your tone. “I really appreciate it.”

As Carmen gave you a reassuring nod, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness for the evening ahead.

That evening, after finishing the last touches of your makeup, you stood back and admired your reflection. Alexia had asked you to wear something casual but nice, so you chose a simple yet elegant combination: a soft blouse paired with a flattering skirt.

The anticipation for the night ahead had your heart racing slightly, though you tried to stay calm.

From the living room, you heard Carmen call out, “Y/N, Alexia’s here!” Her voice broke your focus, and you hurried out to greet her.

When you reached the living room, there was Alexia, standing confidently with not one, but two bouquets of flowers and a single flower in her hand.

She spotted you and her eyes lit up, the familiar smile that made your heart skip a beat curling at her lips.

“Hola, guapa,” Alexia said, her gaze sweeping from your head to your toes, taking in every detail of your outfit.

You approached her, leaning in for a hug. She smelled faintly of her favorite cologne, a comforting, familiar scent.

After the embrace, Alexia handed you a bouquet of red roses. “These are for you,” she said softly, watching your reaction.

Smiling warmly, you took the flowers. “Thank you, Alexia,” you replied, placing a kiss on her cheek, which made her grin grow wider.

Alexia then turned her attention to Carmen, holding out a bouquet of yellow roses. “Carmen, me di cuenta de que nunca te he traído flores, así que estas son para ti.” (Carmen, I realized I’ve never brought you flowers, so these are for you,” she said with a playful grin, handing her the bouquet)

Carmen’s eyes softened, clearly touched by the gesture. She pulled Alexia into a warm embrace, gently cradling her face in her hands before kissing her on the forehead. “Gracias, querida,” Carmen said lovingly, a motherly warmth in her voice.

Alexia chuckled softly, the bond between her and Carmen clear to see.

“Where’s Mia?” Alexia asked, looking back at you as you placed your bouquet in a vase in the kitchen.

Before you could respond, an excited voice shouted from the hallway. “Alexia!” Mia came racing into the room, her little feet barely touching the ground as she leapt straight into Alexia’s open arms.

“I missed you so much!” Mia squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around Alexia’s neck.

“I missed you too, nena,” Alexia responded, lifting Mia and holding her close. She then lowered her to the ground, pulling out a single white rose.

“Look what I got for you,” she said, handing the flower to your daughter with a gentle smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but your mommy gave me permission to choose your flower of the week.”

Mia’s eyes went wide with delight as she took the rose. “Thank you, Ale! It’s beautiful,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Alexia’s cheek.

“You’re welcome, mi amor,” Alexia replied, her expression softening as she watched Mia beam with excitement.

Mia rushed over to show you her flower, and you picked her up, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s beautiful, baby,” you told her, carrying her back toward Alexia and Carmen.

“Alright, baby, Alexia and I are going to head out now. Be good for Carmen, okay?” you said gently. Mia nodded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around your neck for one last hug. You kissed her cheek, smiling softly.

“Bye, baby. I love you,” you said. Mia waved with her small hand, her face lighting up with a big smile. “Love you too, Mommy,” she said sweetly.

She then turned her attention back to Alexia. “Bye-bye, Alexia!” Mia called, waving at her.

“Bye-bye, mi nena,” Alexia said, leaning down to kiss Mia’s little hand, earning a giggle from your daughter.

With a final look around the room, you and Alexia both said, “Bye, Carmen,” in unison, causing Carmen to laugh.

“Bye, girls! Have fun—but not too much fun!” Carmen teased, sending you both a playful wink. Alexia’s lips curled into a smirk at Carmen’s words, and you rolled your eyes, chuckling softly.

As Alexia and you made your way towards her car, she opened the door for you as you thanked her and she winked at you.

The ride to the restaurant was silent but peaceful.You find it kind of weird since Alexia is never silent and always have something to say.

Even though she’ll never admit it but Alexia was nervous and you could see it by the tap she does with the hand that is resting on her thigh.You decided to tease her a bit.

“You’re nervous” you asked her playfully and she just scoffed.

“Of course not” she said

“Yeah sure” you retorted pointing out her hand on her thigh and she immediately stopped as you laughed.

——

Arriving at the restaurant, you and Alexia were promptly seated at a cozy corner table, giving you just the right amount of privacy. The ambiance was warm, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the walls.

After being handed the menus, you both quickly decided on your meals, exchanging glances that carried a hint of excitement. It felt like something new was beginning.

When your food arrived, the conversation began to flow naturally between bites. Alexia, sitting across from you, seemed relaxed, more open than usual.

She started sharing stories about her family, reminiscing about childhood adventures with her sister, and funny moments with her friends.

You found yourself leaning in, captivated by the way she painted each story with vivid details. In return, you opened up about your own experiences, feeling a genuine connection deepening between you two.

Of course, it wasn’t long before Alexia, ever the tease, sprinkled in some playful flirtation and cheeky innuendos.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief every time she dropped a suggestive remark, her grin widening when you laughed or rolled your eyes at her antics. It was easy with her, the conversation flowing seamlessly from serious to lighthearted.

The chemistry between you was undeniable. You hadn’t been on a date in a long time, and Alexia made it feel special, like she’d put thought into every little detail. You could tell she wanted to make this night memorable for you, and so far, it was working.

But just as you started to fully relax, savoring both the food and the moment, something shifted. A subtle tension began creeping into the air, casting a shadow over the otherwise perfect evening.

But that date was about to take a turn for the worse… well, for Alexia.

“Ay! Do you remember that time you were telling me a story, but stopped halfway because I got distracted by another woman and wasn't paying attention?” she asked, her tone half-teasing, half-annoyed, as she narrowed her eyes at you. You nodded, a small, sheepish grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“You never finished it! I want to know the end,” she insisted, leaning forward in her seat, waiting eagerly. You couldn't help but laugh softly at her persistence.

“Alright, alright. So, Mia and I were—“you started, but before you could get the words out, Alexia suddenly cut you off with a low, startled “Mierda,” her eyes darting past your shoulder.

“What? What is it?” you asked, your brows furrowing in confusion as you followed her gaze.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” she quickly muttered, trying to dismiss it, but her entire body had stiffened, and she looked like she was ready to slide under the table to avoid being seen.

The tension in her voice was unmistakable, so naturally, you turned around to see what was going on.

There, just a few feet behind you, stood a group of three girls waiting to be seated. They were scanning the room, completely unaware of the storm they were about to bring. You glanced back at Alexia, noticing how she was now staring down at the table, her head tilted just enough to avoid eye contact with anyone in the group.

It was clear she was trying to hide, but it was already too late

“Alexia?” you heard a voice call from behind, and one of the girls from the group stepped forward, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Alexia froze. Slowly, she looked up, giving the girl a strained, awkward smile. “Hola.. um, Alicia?” she asked tentatively, her voice faltering.

“No, es Martina,” the girl replied sharply, clearly offended by the mistake. “Sigo esperando esa llamada que me prometiste.” she added, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Alexia, completely ignoring your presence at the table.(No, it’s Martina. Still waiting for that call you promised me)

You blinked, glancing between Alexia and Martina, utterly bewildered by the situation.

“Uh, sí... sobre eso...” Alexia stammered, but before she could say anything more, another girl from the group stepped forward, her eyes widening in recognition. (Uh, yeah…about that…)

“¿Espera, Alexia?” she exclaimed, turning to Martina. “¿La conoces?” (Wait, Alexia?, You know her?)

“Sí, esta tonta y yo salimos como una semana.” Martina said bitterly. (Yeah, this idiot and I went out for like a week)

“Tuvimos sexo,y me prometió que me llamaría, pero me dejó en visto” Her voice was dripping with disdain, and you couldn't help but raise your eyebrows at Alexia, who was now staring at the table, her face flushed with embarrassment. (We had sex, and she promised she’d call, but she ghosted me)

“¡A mí me pasó lo mismo!” the second girl chimed in, her voice sharp with anger. (Same thing happened to me!)

“Nos acostamos, y luego, cuando me la encontré en la calle, actuó como si yo ni siquiera existiera.”She shot Alexia a venomous look, and you could see the color drain from Alexia’s face as she shrank further into her seat, looking like she wanted to vanish on the spot. (We hooked up, and then when I ran into her on the street, she acted like I didn’t even exist.)

As if things couldn't get any worse, the third girl from the group joined the conversation. “Chicas, la mesa está lista.” she said, then paused when her eyes landed on Alexia. (Girls, the table's ready)

“Alexia?” she asked, her face lighting up in recognition. You, on the other hand, closed your eyes and rubbed your temple, feeling the weight of the situation.

The other two girls whipped around to face their friend. “¿Tú también la conoces?”they asked in unison, their voices tinged with disbelief. (You know her too?)

“Si” the third girl replied with a sigh. “Nos acostamos hace un meses, y luego literalmente me sacó de su cama y me echó de su apartamento porque su hermana iba a venir. Luego se disculpó con flores, y tuvimos sexo de nuevo. Ella prometió que me llamaría, pero nunca lo hizo.¡Todavía tengo un moretón por eso!”she added, rolling her eyes dramatically, well that sounds familiar you thought. (We hooked up a couple of months ago, and then she literally pushed me out of her bed and kicked me out of her apartment because her sister was coming over. She then apologized with flowers and we had sex again, she promised she’ll called but she never did.I still have a bruise from it!)

At this point, you could barely believe what you were hearing. Your gaze slid over to Alexia, whose head was hanging low.

“¿También tuviste sexo con mis amigas?”Martina asked incredulously, her voice rising in anger. Alexia just nodded, biting her lip, knowing she was caught. (You slept with my friends too?)

Martina’s expression hardened as she grabbed Alexia’s champagne glass and, without a second thought, tipped it over Alexia’s head.

The liquid cascaded down her hair and onto her clothes. You gasped, eyes wide with shock.

“Eso es por acostarte con mis amigas.”Martina spat, her voice cold. (That’s for sleeping with my friends)

Before you could react, the second girl reached across the table, grabbing your champagne glass. Without hesitation, she poured it over Alexia as well. “Esto es por pretender que no existía y hacerme sentir como si estuviera loca” she said, her glare piercing through Alexia. (This is for pretending I didn’t exist and making me feel like I was crazy)

Finally, the third girl took the bottle of champagne that had been sitting in the middle of the table and dumped the entire thing over Alexia’s head. “Y esto,” she said with a smirk, “es por darme un moretón.” (And this is for giving me a bruise.)

The entire time, Alexia didn’t say a word. She just sat there, drenched in champagne, fully aware of how badly she had messed up.

Her usually confident demeanor was completely shattered, and she knew there was no escaping the consequences of her actions.

The three girls turned and walked away, but not before one of them lightly tapped you on the shoulder and said, “Buena suerte, tia” with a wink. (Good luck, girl)

The whole restaurant had gone deathly silent. You could feel everyone’s eyes on your table, all of them watching the fallout of Alexia’s disastrous past.

You smirked and picked up your fork, continuing to eat as if nothing had happened. She had it coming, and you couldn’t help but feel a little vindicated.

Alexia looked at you, her eyes wide with disbelief, but you just shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that. You deserved it. You’re a jerk,” you said casually, turning back to your plate while Alexia slowly got up, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

When she returned, still slightly damp and clearly humiliated, the two of you decided it was time to leave. Alexia paid the check without a word, and the two of you walked back to the car in utter silence, the tension between you almost tangible.

Neither of you said anything on the drive home, and the weight of everything that had just happened hung in the air between you, too thick to ignore.

As you arrived at your apartment, the silence from the restaurant lingered between you and Alexia. Standing in front of your door, you turned to her, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well… that was fun,” you said, managing a small, somewhat strained smile. Alexia responded with a sad, half-hearted smile of her own.

“Yes, um… I’m really sorry about all of this” she said, motioning to her champagne-soaked clothes, her voice filled with remorse.

“It’s okay,” you said gently, trying to reassure her.

Alexia hesitated, then asked nervously, “Entonces… ¿crees que podríamos, ya sabes, intentarlo de nuevo?” She fiddled with the ring on her finger, clearly anxious. (So… do you think we could, you know, give it another shot?)

You sighed, gathering your thoughts before responding, “I don’t think so,” you said softly. Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise.

“Didn’t you enjoy yourself? Well, before everything went wrong?” she asked, her voice betraying her insecurity.

“I did enjoy myself, especially when everything went wrong. And Alexia, I really like you,” you admitted, your voice earnest.

Her expression softened, and she looked relieved, if still uncertain.

“I really like you too, Y/N. And if you’re worried about me seeing other girls again, I promise I won’t. You’re the only one I want,” she said quickly, her eyes pleading with you.

“It’s not just about that,” you said, shaking your head. “ I have to think about more than just myself. I need to consider Mia too,” you explained. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Mia loves me,” she said, her tone a mix of confusion and hurt.

“I know she does, but imagine if something like this had happened while Mia was with you. What do you think she would say?” you asked, your voice firm but compassionate.

“He estado con Mia muchas veces antes y nada como esto había sucedido.”she said desperately. (I’ve been out with Mia plenty of times before, and nothing like this ever happened)

“Yeah, but that doesn’t guarantee it won’t in the future,” you pointed out. “I’m really sorry, Alexia, but as much as I like you and want to be with you, I think we’re better off as friends,” you said, your heart heavy. She looked at you with sadness in her eyes but nodded slowly.

“Come here,” you said, opening your arms. She stepped into your embrace, her face buried in the crook of your neck as she whispered apologies. You gently rubbed her back, offering comfort as best as you could.

When you finally pulled away, Alexia pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll fix this, I promise. I’m not giving up on us,” she said with determination, her eyes locked on yours.

“I know you won’t,” you said with a soft smile. “Goodbye, Alexia,” you said, opening the door to your apartment.

“Adios, guapa,” she replied, giving you one last smile before turning to walk away.

As Alexia made her way down the hall, she was overwhelmed by a swirl of emotions—feeling foolish, embarrassed, and heartbroken.

She regretted missing her chance to be with you but was resolute in her determination to make things right. She walked away with a promise to herself to fix the situation and not give up easily.

——

You hadn’t seen Alexia in nearly a month after that night. She stopped visiting the store, and the only communication between you was through sporadic text messages.

Mia, who had grown quite fond of Alexia, missed her terribly. She frequently aked about Alexia’s absence and why she wasn’t coming around anymore.

You found yourself making up various excuses, claiming Alexia was tied up with work commitments.

Despite her absence, Alexia still took the time to call Mia occasionally to wish her good night, which you found genuinely touching and appreciated.

The only glimpses you got of Alexia were on TV, during her matches that you and Mia watched together. On screen, she looked striking—blonder than before and just as captivating.

You often asked Alexia when she would be coming back to the store, but her answers were consistently vague.

She would simply say, “soon.” The last time she gave you this response was two weeks ago, leaving you wondering when she would actually return.

“Mia, no running in the store, baby, please,” you called out, watching your daughter race around the aisles for what felt like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes.

You had no choice but to bring her with you today since Maria, your usual babysitter, was sick and couldn’t look after her.

“Sorry, Mommy!” Mia yelled back as she skidded to a halt. You walked over, picked her up, and set her on the counter.

Just as you were about to speak to her, the familiar ring of the door bell sounded, and you looked up to see Alexia entering the store.

Before you could even react, Mia leaped off the counter, causing your heart to skip a beat, and sprinted straight for Alexia, shouting her name at the top of her lungs. She flung herself into Alexia’s arms without hesitation.

“I missed you so much, nena,” Alexia said, wrapping Mia in a tight embrace and kissing her lightly on the shoulder as she walked over to you, Mia still clinging to her.

Alexia didn’t let Mia go immediately. She waited, cradling her close until Mia finally pulled away and smiled up at her.

“Why haven’t you been here? I thought you left me,” Mia said, her lower lip jutting out into a pout. The words made your heart sink, the thought of Mia feeling abandoned tugging painfully at your chest.

Alexia’s expression mirrored the heartbreak you felt. “Oh, no, nena. I would never leave my favorite person in the whole world,” Alexia reassured her, pressing a few more soft kisses onto Mia’s cheek, clearly trying to make up for the lost time.

“Alexia, do you wanna see all the drawings I made?” Mia asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Alexia grinned and nodded, more than ready to follow Mia’s lead. They headed toward the back room, Mia tugging on her hand eagerly.

As they passed by, Alexia glanced at you, her eyes soft. “We’ll talk later, okay?” she said quietly, her voice filled with an unspoken apology. You nodded in response, not needing to say anything at the moment.

On their way to the back room, Alexia greeted Carmen with a quick hug and a few exchanged words. Carmen smiled and gestured them through.

During your break, you decided to check in on them. As you stepped into the back room, your breath caught at the sight in front of you.

Alexia and Mia were lying together on the small bed Carmen had set up for Mia’s naps when she visited the store.

Mia was curled up on top of Alexia, her tiny body tucked against Alexia’s chest, her face nestled in the crook of Alexia’s neck. They were both fast asleep, breathing softly in perfect unison.

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene. It was a picture of calm and warmth, a reminder of just how close Mia had grown to Alexia.

You stepped closer quietly and grabbed Mia’s favorite blanket, gently draping it over both of them. As you adjusted the blanket, Alexia stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked sleepily at you before offering a soft, sleepy smile.

You smiled back, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was an unspoken understanding between you.

Alexia had missed you more than she could express, and you could see it in her eyes. She had been distant, but you knew she was trying to make things right.

Carefully, Alexia shifted, sitting up slowly to avoid waking Mia. She gently placed Mia on the bed, tucking the blanket securely around her tiny frame. After making sure Mia was settled, Alexia quietly got up and approached you, her gaze soft but intense.

Without a word, she pulled you into a tight hug, the warmth of her embrace familiar. “¿Cómo estás?”she asked softly, her voice low in your ear. (How are you?)

“I’m good. And you?” you replied, pulling back slightly to look up at her. Alexia smiled, echoing your words. “Good.”

You rested your head against her shoulder for a brief moment, her scent and the comfort of her touch bringing back memories.

Then, in a quiet voice, you whispered, “I missed you. Where have you been?” You pulled away enough to look her in the eye, the question hanging between you.

“Let’s talk outside so we don’t wake her,” Alexia suggested gently, nodding toward the sleeping Mia. You nodded in agreement, and with that, she took your hand, her touch warm and steady.

Leading you out of the back room and through the store, you let Carmen know you’d be stepping outside for a moment.

Once outside, the cool air hit your skin, and you felt a little lighter, but the conversation ahead weighed on your mind.

Alexia gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go, and the two of you found a quiet spot to talk, close from the store.

“So... where were you?” you asked, cutting straight to the chase, unable to hold back the question any longer.

Alexia let out a soft sigh, her eyes flickering with a mix of nerves and determination. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” she began, her voice quiet but steady.

“After what happened on our date and how you didn’t want Mia around if something like that ever happened again.”

You nodded, recalling the conversation clearly. That night had been chaotic, and the thought of Mia witnessing anything similar made your stomach turn.

“Bueno... sé que puede no parecer mucho para ti, pero realmente quería asegurarme de que esa situación no se repita” Alexia continued, her gaze earnest. (Well... I know it might not seem like much to you, but I really wanted to make sure that situation never repeats itself)

“I didn’t want to risk women getting mad at me in public with Mia around... so, I decided to go and apologize to every single woman I’ve hurt.”

You blinked in shock, her words taking a moment to sink in. “Wait, what?”

“Si” she said, with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through her hair. “It took a while—a month, actually. There were... well, a lot of women. But I made sure to apologize to every single one of them for treating them badly, using them, or hurting them in any way”

You stared at her, your surprise evident. Alexia had always been confident, even a little cocky at times, but this... this was something entirely different. “Wow,” was all you managed to say, the weight of her actions hitting you.

Alexia offered a small smile, clearly relieved by your reaction. “I want to be different. A new version of myself,” she said, her tone soft but determined.

“No more womanizer Alexia, no more jumping from girl to girl. I want to be Alexia who’s focused on only my four girls” She paused, letting her words hang in the air.

You furrowed your brow, unsure who she meant. “Four girls?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

She grinned, her eyes softening. “Si. My mom, my sister, Mia and you.”

At that, your heart melted completely. There was a sincerity in her voice that struck a chord deep within you. “I think I like this new Alexia,” you said, your voice gentle but full of warmth.

Alexia smiled wider, clearly touched by your response. “I like her too,” she said, and you could feel the shift between you, something unspoken yet understood.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight embrace. Alexia responded immediately, her arms circling your waist, holding you close.

The hug felt different this time—not just physical closeness, but emotional connection, a promise of something deeper.

After a long moment, she whispered into your ear, “I was worried you’d be mad at me for disappearing.”

You shook your head gently, still nestled against her. “No, I could never be mad at you for taking the time to figure things out. I’m proud of you for doing that,” you said softly, pressing a light kiss near her ear as a small gesture of reassurance.

Alexia pulled back slightly, her hands resting on your hips, but she didn’t let go. “I’ve got to head to training now,” she said reluctantly, her eyes searching yours. “But... would you and Mia come to my match tomorrow?”

“Really?” you asked, excitement bubbling up. You knew how much Mia adored watching Alexia play, and you could already imagine her reaction.

“Yeah,” Alexia said, her grin widening. “Don’t worry about tickets—I’ve got plenty set aside for friends and family. Please come. It’ll be fun.”

“Of course! Mia’s going to be thrilled,” you replied, already imagining Mia’s excitement when you told her. Then, after a brief pause, you added, “Also, after training, would you like to come over for dinner?”

Alexia’s eyes lit up at the invitation. “I’d love to,” she said, her voice warm as her hands squeezed your hips gently, as if to seal the moment. “I’ve missed you both so much. I’d love to spend time with you two again.”

You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “We’ve missed you too,” you admitted softly, your voice carrying the weight of the time that had passed.

Alexia smiled back, and for the first time in a while, everything felt right again.

——

“When is Alexia coming?” Mia asked for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, her little voice full of impatience and excitement.

“Soon, baby,” you said, smiling as you gently squeezed her chubby cheeks, making her burst into a fit of giggles.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door. Mia's eyes lit up as she gasped, “Alexia!” Her excitement was infectious, and you nodded, her joy mirrored in your own smile.

You walked over to the door and opened it to reveal Alexia standing there, her familiar warm smile lighting up the space.

She had Nala cradled in one arm, and in the other, she carried a Barca bag. “Nala!” Mia squealed, holding out her hands towards the dog.

Alexia knelt down and gently set Nala on the floor, and with a wagging tail, the little dog scampered inside, Mia trailing closely behind, laughing as she chased her around the room.

“I think Mia loves Nala more than she loves you,” you teased, laughing as you looked over at Alexia.

Alexia chuckled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think you’re right,” she agreed, shaking her head playfully.

Stepping inside, Alexia pulled you into a warm hug. Her familiar scent and comforting presence made everything feel just a little brighter.

After the hug, she joined you in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, ready to help with the last bit of dinner prep.

Together, the three of you worked in perfect harmony, Mia perched on a chair stirring something while Alexia handed you ingredients.

The kitchen was filled with soft laughter and the clinking of dishes. By the time dinner was ready, the atmosphere was as warm as the meal itself.

You all sat down at the table, Mia in the middle of you and Alexia, happily chatting as she recounted her day in between bites of food.

The sound of her tiny voice mixed with the hum of evening conversations made the moment feel blissfully perfect.

After dinner, you moved to the living room, where the three of you sprawled out on the floor, playing with Mia’s collection of dolls. Mia giggled as you and Alexia helped the dolls “talk,” her laughter bubbling up every time one of you made a silly voice.

“Hey, Mia, guess what?” you asked her, lowering your voice like you were about to share a big secret. Her wide eyes locked onto yours immediately. “What?” she asked, voice full of curiosity.

You exchanged a knowing glance with Alexia, and a smile crept across both your faces. “Tomorrow, we’re going to see Alexia play at the stadium,” you revealed, your voice filled with excitement.

Mia gasped loudly, her eyes widening even more as she whipped her head toward Alexia. “Really!?”she asked, practically bouncing in place. Alexia nodded with a soft smile.

Without hesitation, Mia flung herself into Alexia’s arms, wrapping her tightly in the biggest hug her little body could muster.

Alexia laughed, her arms wrapping around Mia in return. “I have something for you too,” Alexia said, her voice gentle and playful. “For both of you,” she added, glancing at you with a smile.

She stood up and grabbed the Barca bag she had brought with her, then sat back down next to you, her eyes twinkling. With a flourish, she pulled out a tiny jersey, perfectly sized for Mia, with her name on the back.

Mia’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “A new jersey!” she exclaimed, clutching it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you, Ale!” she squealed, and in an instant, she was up and planting a big kiss on Alexia’s cheek. “Look, Mommy! A new jersey!” she said, proudly showing it off.

“I see it, baby,” you said, matching her joy with an exaggerated gasp and a wide smile. “It’s perfect!”

Alexia wasn’t done yet. She reached into the bag again and pulled out another jersey, this one larger, clearly meant for you. You raised your eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“And this one’s for you,” Alexia said with a wink. “Since I know I’m your favorite player, of course I had to choose my jersey,” she teased, a playful grin on her face.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Alexia,” you said softly, your heart full as you leaned in and kissed her cheek. “It’s perfect.”

Mia, already wearing her jersey over her pajamas, threw her arms around your neck, beaming up at you both. “Now we can all match” she exclaimed, her little face glowing with excitement.

You smiled, kissing her on the cheek. “Yes, we can! We’ll all wear them tomorrow for the game,” you promised, imagining how happy Mia would be to wear her new jersey to the stadium.

Alexia watched the two of you, her gaze soft and filled with warmth as she took in the sight of Mia nestled in your arms, the three of you wrapped in this quiet, loving moment. It was the kind of simple joy that made everything else fade away.

At bedtime, Mia sweetly asked Alexia to read her a bedtime story, and Alexia, with a bright smile, happily agreed without hesitation.

Mia, already tucked under her warm blankets, gently handed Alexia the book she had chosen for the night, her eyes shining with anticipation.

Alexia gratefully accepted the book and thanked her, but before she could begin, Mia looked over at you standing in the doorway. “Mommy, come too,” she said softly, her small voice filled with warmth.

You stepped into the room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a peaceful light across the room. Sitting down beside them on Mia's bed, you felt her tiny hand reach out for yours.

You held it, the warmth of her fingers a comforting reminder of the moment, as Alexia opened the book and began to read, her voice steady and soothing, bringing the story to life.

Only five minutes into the story, Mia’s eyelids fluttered shut, and she drifted off to sleep, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath.

You quietly stood up, careful not to make a sound that might wake her, and leaned in to plant a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. The warmth of her skin and the calm expression on her face filled you with love and peace.

Alexia, with a soft smile on her face, followed your lead and leaned down to give Mia a gentle kiss as well. Together, you both quietly tiptoed out of the room, leaving Mia peacefully asleep, her dreams already beginning.

Since it was still early, you and Alexia decided to spend more time together by watching a movie. The mood was light and comfortable, with a relaxed air between the two of you.

While you busied yourself making popcorn, you could hear Alexia humming softly as she browsed through the movie options, searching for something just right.

When the popcorn was ready, you walked over and sat down close beside her, the warmth between you instant. She smiled at you, her eyes soft and full of affection. “Ready?” she asked, holding the remote.

“Ready,” you nodded, returning her smile. Nala was lying peacefully on the floor, her breathing slow as she slept through the evening’s calm.

As the movie played, you slowly started to feel tired. Alexia noticed the way your head began to dip slightly, and without saying a word, she shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Come here,” she whispered, gently pulling you into her side.

You leaned into her, letting the weight of the day melt away in her embrace. Her hand found its way to your hair, gently running through it in soft, soothing strokes. “You okay?” she asked quietly, her voice tender.

“Mmm, yeah, just tired,” you murmured, already feeling sleep pulling at you.

“Go ahead, rest. I’ve got you,” she whispered, her hand continuing to caress your hair, lulling you into a deep, peaceful slumber.

You didn’t even notice when you fully drifted off, lost in the comfort of her arms and the warmth of her presence. Time seemed to disappear until you were gently woken by Alexia shifting next to you.

“Hey,” she whispered softly, her hand still in your hair as you blinked yourself awake. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you, but it’s getting late and I should go.”

You rubbed your eyes and nodded, sitting up a little. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you said with a small, sleepy smile.

Alexia smiled warmly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You looked too peaceful to wake up sooner,” she said with a gentle laugh. She stood up, stretching slightly before you both walked toward the door, Nala following lazily behind.

Once at the door, you opened it for her, the cool night air drifting in. Alexia stepped outside and then turned back toward you, her smile soft and full of warmth. “Thank you for dinner tonight. It was perfect,” she said sincerely.

You stepped closer to her, feeling a soft blush rise in your cheeks. “Thank you for the jersey,” you said with a shy smile. “I can’t wait to wear it tomorrow.”

Alexia’s eyes lit up. “I can’t wait to see you wearing it tomorrow,” she replied, her voice playful but sweet.

She moved closer, her hands gently resting on your hips, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her shoulders, pulling her even closer.

“Please don’t tease me like you did in the kitchen the other day,” Alexia said, her voice low but teasing, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

You laughed softly. “I’m not teasing,” you whispered, before leaning in and kissing her.

The kiss was soft and sweet, but there was a deeper connection between you. It felt natural, almost as if you had been waiting for this moment.

Her arms tightened around your waist, and you melted into her, letting the warmth of the moment surround you. Your lips moved together in sync, the kiss growing more passionate as your tongues met, exploring each other.

Alexia sighed contentedly into the kiss, pulling you even closer as if she never wanted to let go. You could feel her heartbeat against you, and it was as if time had stopped, the world outside disappearing.

But then, Nala’s sudden bark broke the silence, causing you both to laugh into the kiss, reluctantly pulling away from each other. Alexia chuckled softly, resting her forehead against yours. “Finally,” she breathed, her voice a mix of relief and happiness.

You grinned and playfully kissed the tip of her nose. “You really made me work for that,” she teased, her hands gently rubbing your sides. “But it was worth every second.”

You smiled softly, your heart full as she leaned in and kissed you again, this time just a light, sweet peck on your lips.

“Okay, I really need to go now,” Alexia said with a soft sigh, her reluctance clear in her voice. She didn’t want the night to end.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, your voice soft, not wanting to let her go just yet.

“Of course,” she said, smiling warmly at you. “See you tomorrow, guapa,” she added, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before stepping back, her eyes lingering on yours.

“Goodnight, Alexia,” you whispered, your heart full as she gave you one last smile before turning and walking away, Nala trotting beside her.

You watched her disappear down the path, closing the door with a happy sigh, feeling like you were floating. The night had been absolutely perfect. Everything—every moment, every word—was just right. You couldn’t wait to see her again tomorrow, already counting the minutes.

——

“Mommy, look, Alexia is coming out of the tunnel!” Mia exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement.

All day, Mia had been bouncing with energy, even waking you up at 6 a.m. by jumping on your bed and insisting you get up for the Barca match, even though the match was in the afternoon.

Her enthusiasm was contagious, and you were just as thrilled to see Alexia play live, rather than through a screen.

After your kiss yesterday, you and Alexia had been texting non-stop, sharing flirty messages and exchanging photos. You had sent her a cute picture of you and Mia wearing her jersey to show your support. When Alexia saw the photo, she couldn’t help but smile widely and set it as her lockscreen background.

“Yes, I see her,” you said, nodding as you watched Alexia warming up on the field. She looked stunning—her hair tied back in a ponytail, her powerful legs ready for action, and her intense focus. It was hard not to think she looked incredibly attractive.

Every so often, Alexia would glance towards the stands, searching for you and Mia. When she finally spotted you both, Mia jumped up in her seat, waving her arms excitedly. Alexia’s face lit up with a huge smile as she waved back.

Then Alexia caught sight of you and playfully blew you a kiss. You returned the gesture, and she caught your kiss, pressing it to her heart with a cheeky grin.

The match started, and Barca took control of the game right from the beginning. At one point, Alexia scored a breathtaking goal, and the entire crowd erupted in cheers. Mia was beside herself with excitement, jumping up and down and chanting Alexia’s name.

When the game ended and it was time to leave, you carried Mia through the bustling crowd to make sure she didn’t get lost.

As you made your way down the stairs, you received a message from Alexia telling you to joined her at a certain spot so she’like pick you and Mia up.

You walked to the designated spot, and Mia continued to chatter excitedly about her favorite moments from the game, her eyes sparkling.

Soon, you saw Alexia’s car pulling up. You opened the door, and Mia immediately reached out to Alexia, wrapping her arms around her in a warm embrace.

Alexia hugged Mia tightly and asked, “Did you have a great time at the match?”

Mia’s face lit up as she replied, “Yes! I loved it! It was amaziiiing!” She stretched out the word, her excitement palpable.

“Come on, Mia, climb into the backseat,” you said gently. Mia eagerly obeyed, sliding into the car.

Alexia looked a bit concerned as she apologized, “I’m really sorry I don’t have a car seat. I’ll be very careful, though.”

“It’s okay, Ale,” you reassured her, fastening Mia’s seatbelt with a smile.

Once you were settled in the front seat, Alexia started the car and asked, “And how about you? Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah! I loved it! It was amaziiiing!” you said, imitating Mia’s enthusiasm, which made Alexia laugh.

Mia, still full of energy, playfully called out, “Hey! Meanie mommy,” which made you laugh and apologize in a cooing voice.

The car ride was filled with warmth and laughter, a perfect end to an unforgettable day.

——

Arriving at Alexia’s apartment, you and Mia were enveloped in the cozy ambiance of her home. The first thing Mia did was dash over to Nala, who was lounging on her favorite spot.

Mia greeted her with an enthusiastic hug and a flurry of kisses, her excitement palpable. Nala responded with playful wagging of her tail and happy barks, clearly delighted by the attention.

Alexia joined in, her laughter filling the room as she played with Mia and Nala. The three of them engaged in a lively game of fetch, with Mia giggling every time Nala brought the toy back. The joy in the room was infectious, and you found yourself smiling, watching the delightful scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you decided to take a moment for yourself and wandered into the kitchen. You poured a glass of water and savored a few quiet minutes.

The soothing hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of the glass were calming. Just as you were about to finish your drink, you felt a familiar and comforting sensation: arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

You smiled, leaning back into the embrace. Alexia’s warmth surrounded you, and you felt an immediate sense of peace. She planted a tender kiss on your forehead, her lips lingering slightly as she embraced you.

Turning in her arms, you looked up into her eyes and reached for her lips. You shared a soft, lingering kiss, the world outside seeming to fade away as you lost yourselves in the intimacy of the moment.

“Did you catch that amazing goal I scored today?” Alexia asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“I did,” you replied, your smile widening. “It was incredible!”

Alexia’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Good,” she said with a mischievous grin. “I scored it just for you.”

You teased her playfully, “Do you use that line on every women you want in your bed?”

Alexia’s smile softened, and she shook her head gently. “Only one,” she said, her voice tender. She then rubbed her nose against yours before pressing her lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

As the kiss deepened, Alexia hummed softly and whispered against your lips, “You look so stunning in my jersey. But I bet you’d look even more amazing without it.” Her voice was filled with warmth and affection, making your heart race with excitement.

You laughed, enjoying the playful exchange. “Maybe one day you’ll get to see,” you said, your tone light and teasing.

Alexia’s arms tightened around you, and she beamed with satisfaction. “Can you believe you went from ‘in your dreams’ to ‘maybe’?” she said triumphantly, her eyes dancing with joy.

You laughed and leaned in for another kiss, this one more passionate, as the joy of the moment enveloped you both. The kiss was filled with the depth of your feelings, and you both savored the connection.

Just then, a small voice broke through with an emphatic “Ewwww!” You pulled away abruptly, eyes wide with surprise, and turned to see Mia standing there with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Mommy, why are you kissing Alexia?” Mia asked, her brows furrowed. You glanced at Alexia for guidance, but she looked just as taken aback.

“You can’t kiss her! She has a girlfriend,” Mia declared, her little face serious. You were amazed at how much she remembered and understood.

“Um… I…” you began, struggling to find the right words.

Sensing the need for clarity, Alexia walked over to Mia and gently knelt in front of her, her eyes filled with sincerity. She gestured for you to join them, which you did, feeling a mix of anxiety and affection.

“Mia, sweetheart,” Alexia began softly, her voice tender and earnest, “I kissed your mommy because I really, really like her. I care about her a lot, and that’s why I kissed her.”

Mia looked at Alexia, her confusion slowly giving way to understanding. “But what about the girl at the store? You were holding hands with her?” Mia asked, her little face full of questions.

You interrupted . “um…that girl was just a friend of Alexia, honey. Sometimes friends hold hands too, just like you might hold hands with your friends.”

Mia seemed to accept this explanation, her face lighting up with a new understanding. “Oh,” she said, her tone softer. “But are you in love with my mommy? Is that why you kissed her?”

Before you could respond, Alexia took a deep breath and looked at Mia with heartfelt sincerity. “Yes, Mia, I am in love with your mommy. Very, very much,” she said, her voice filled with emotion.

“I hope that’s okay with you because it means I’ll be spending a lot of time with you too, if your mommy wants that.”

You looked at Alexia with surprise and admiration, deeply touched by her openness and the depth of her feelings.

Mia’s face lit up with joy, and she threw her arms around both you and Alexia in a warm, enthusiastic hug. “Yes, you can be in love with my mommy! I want to spend all my time with you and Nala! You’re my bestest friends!” she exclaimed, her happiness evident. She then ran back to Nala, eager to continue their playtime.

As you and Alexia stood up, you looked at her with a mixture of wonder and love. “So, you’re really in love with me?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

“I am, more than I ever thought possible,” Alexia said, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. “I finally figured out what was that feeling in my stomach… You make me so incredibly happy. When I’m with you, nothing else seems to matter.”

Feeling overwhelmed by your emotions, you kissed her deeply, the connection between you both palpable. The kiss was a reflection of your deep feelings, filled with passion and tenderness.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whispered against her lips, your voice filled with heartfelt truth. Alexia’s eyes brightened with joy as she picked you up and spun you around in a joyful embrace.

“Is it official? Are we together?” she asked, her voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

“Yes, we are,” you replied with a beaming smile. You covered her face with affectionate kisses, and she laughed, her joy radiating from her.

“I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” Alexia said, her voice glowing with happiness as she held you close. The world around you felt perfectly right, enveloped in the warmth and love you shared.

——

“Hola, guapa!” Alexia greeted with a bright smile as she entered the shop, leaning in for a quick but tender kiss.

“Hola, Carmen!” she added, turning to Carmen with a warm hug. Carmen reciprocated the hug with equal affection, clearly delighted by the visit.

You and Alexia have been together for six months, and these months have been the most fulfilling of your life. Alexia has been the perfect partner, balancing her caring nature with her playful teasing and occasional cheeky jokes. Despite her antics, you wouldn’t change a thing about her.

“I’m heading to training, but I just had to drop by to see your gorgeous face and hear your lovely voice,” Alexia said, her tone flirtatious and full of affection.

“You’re really inflating my ego today,” you laughed, enjoying the compliment.

Alexia’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Do you want to go on a date tonight? Alba can come by your apartment to look after Mia. I’ve already asked her, and she’s more than happy to,” she proposed.

In the past six months, you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Alba and Eli, Alexia’s mom, both of whom have been incredibly warm and welcoming towards you.

They were also quite surprised, because you were apparently first woman Alexia had ever brought home to meet them.

“I’d love that,” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. You leaned over the counter, and Alexia promptly met you with a sweet kiss.

“See you tonight, mi amor,” Alexia said as she pulled away, giving you a flirtatious wink before heading out the door.

Carmen looked at you with a knowing smile. “Looks like someone’s in for a special night,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Please, don’t ” you replied, trying to maintain your composure as you got back to work.

That evening, Alexia picked you up and took you to a charming restaurant that you had been wanting to try.

As you arrived, she held the door open for you with a courteous smile, and you both were shown to a cozy table by a window with a view of the city lights.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Alexia said as you sat down, her eyes shining with excitement. She reached across the table, taking your hand in hers.

“So have I,” you replied, squeezing her hand gently. “It’s been such a perfect day already.”

Alexia’s smile widened as she perused the menu. “What are you in the mood for tonight? I’m thinking we should share some tapas and then maybe have that dessert we’ve been eyeing.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you agreed. “I’m craving the croquetas and the patatas bravas.”

As you waited for your food, you both talked about everything from the latest football news to funny anecdotes from your week.

Alexia updated you on her training sessions and some of the amusing moments from practice, her laughter filling the air and making you smile.

“So, I scored this amazing goal today,” Alexia said with a proud grin. “You should’ve seen the way the ball curved into the top corner. I’m still buzzing from it.”

“You were incredible,” you said, your eyes sparkling with admiration. “I was watching on the live stream, and I had to rewind it a couple of times to make sure I wasn’t imagining it!”

As the evening continued, the food arrived, and you both enjoyed sharing plates of delicious tapas. The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing.

When dessert came, you both indulged in a decadent chocolate mousse, feeding each other bites and exchanging playful banter.

By the time the check arrived, you both felt completely content. Alexia walked you to the car, her hand intertwined with yours. As she drove, she glanced over at you with a soft smile.

“I’ve had such a great time tonight,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “Being with you always feels like a perfect escape from everything else.”

“Me too,” you replied, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Every moment with you is just… right.”

Alexia parked the car back at your place, and as you both walked to your door, you turned to her with a tender expression.

“You’re staying the night, right?” you asked, your voice filled with a mix of eagerness and affection.

“Of course,” Alexia responded with a playful grin, leaning in to give you a soft, lingering kiss. She then gave you a light pat on the butt, making you both laugh softly.

Once inside your apartment, you moved quietly to avoid disturbing Mia, who was soundly asleep in her room. You thanked Alba for taking care of her, chatting briefly about the night’s events and exchanging warm goodbyes before she left.

After changing into more relaxed attire, you and Alexia headed to the bedroom. The room was softly lit, casting a warm glow over everything.

You and Alexia were making out in your bed and as Alexia’s kisses grew more insistent and heated, the atmosphere between you became electric. You felt a surge of confidence and gently pulled away, your heart racing.

You removed your shirt slowly, letting it fall to the floor, and then slipped off your shorts, leaving yourself completely naked. Straddling Alexia, you could feel her eyes on you, her admiration evident in the way she looked at you.

“Dame un pellizco.”Alexia said suddenly, her voice tinged with disbelief. Her eyes were fixed on your chest, not meeting yours. “I need to make sure this isn’t a dream.” (Pinch me)

You raised an eyebrow, both amused and touched. “What?”

“You always said this would only happen in my dreams,” she explained, her gaze still locked on your chest. “I need to be sure it’s real.”

You chuckled softly, guiding her hands to your breasts. “Does this feel real enough?” you asked, and she responded by gently squeezing, causing you to let out a soft moan.

“So real,” she murmured, her voice filled with awe. With a loving smile, she wrapped an arm around your waist and shifted your position so that you were lying on your back, with her on top of you. Her kisses traveled from your neck to your collarbone, each touch tender and full of longing.

“I can’t wait to finally have you,” she whispered against your skin, her lips moving to your chest. Her kisses were warm and tender, sending shivers of pleasure through you.

You moaned softly, lost in the sensation of her touch.

After finishing, you both lay there, panting and completely naked. You rested on top of Alexia, savoring the moment as her fingers traced soft, calming patterns on your back.

“How was it?” she asked softly, her voice a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction.

You lifted your head from her chest, meeting her gaze. With a tender smile, you kissed her lips gently. “Incredible,” you whispered, placing another light kiss on her lips.

“I did it,” Alexia said with a playful grin, her eyes twinkling with triumph. “I told you I’d never give up. I promised you that one day you’d be naked in my bed,” she said, smirking proudly.

You arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smile on your face. “Well, technically, you haven’t fully achieved that yet, since this is my bed,” you teased.

Alexia chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s only a matter of time before we’re doing this in my bed,” she said, her grin widening. “And on my kitchen table, the counter, in my bathroom… I’ll make sure we make love in every room and piece of furniture in my apartment” she added with a sultry smirk.

“Hmmm, that sounds like quite the adventure,” you replied with a playful tone. “But for now, let’s head to the shower and get dressed. I have a feeling tomorrow morning will involve a tiny person bouncing on us,” you said, getting up and stretching.

Alexia groaned but grinned as she started to get up. “You’re probably right,” she said, her voice a mix of amusement and resignation.

As you both moved toward the shower, the warmth and intimacy of the evening lingered, promising more moments of closeness and affection to come.

——

The next morning, you awoke to the gentle sensation of a hand softly caressing your cheek.

“Hola,” Alexia whispered tenderly, and you instinctively moved closer, savoring her warmth. “Hola,” you murmured back, leaning in for a quick, loving peck on her lips.

“Mmm, I could really get used to waking up next to you every day,” she said softly, closing her eyes as a contented sigh escaped her lips. You traced your fingers through her hair, feeling a deep sense of peace.

“Me too,” you agreed, your heart swelling with happiness. Alexia then wrapped her arms around you, pulling you on top of her. Her gaze was filled with tenderness as she said, “Te amo.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. It was the first time Alexia had ever said those words to you.

After a few seconds of letting the moment sink in, you responded with equal fervor, “I love you too, so much.” You kissed her deeply, the passion of the moment outweighing any thoughts of morning breath.

As you pulled away, Alexia’s eyes sparkled with affection. “Ay! By the way, I was thinking, you never finished that story you started at the store and then at the date. I’m dying to know how it ended!” she said with a playful pout. You chuckled at her eagerness.

“Oh, right! So what happened next is that Mia and I…” you began, but before you could finish, the bedroom door swung open with a burst of excitement. Alexia groaned in mock frustration, clearly disappointed at the interruption.

“Mommy! Ale!” Mia exclaimed, her tiny feet pattering as she clambered onto the bed with your help.

“Good morning, my little sunshine,” you greeted, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Morning, nena,” Alexia said warmly, planting a kiss on Mia’s cheek as well. Mia giggled, clearly delighted by the affection.

“I’m hungry!” Mia declared, patting her stomach with a dramatic flourish.

“Ooh, the little monster is hungry!” Alexia said with a grin, sitting up and playfully nudging Mia. You slid off her, and Alexia began to tickle Mia, who erupted in infectious laughter.

As you watched the two of them, a deep sense of contentment enveloped you. Here you were, in Barcelona, living a life filled with love and joy.

You felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and fulfillment, knowing that you had finally found the happy ending you’d always dreamed of… even if it was with a former womanizer.

FIN.

[rebelfell]

rub one out┃(for your viewing pleasure-verse)

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

a cheeky (pun intended) bit of filth based on part of my blurb series. I was trying to keep the snippets short, but this just kinda poured out of me over the past couple days.

cw: sex work, simulated adultery, oral (fem receiving)

18+, MDNI┃2.8k

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You couldn’t escape the nagging thought as you stepped outside, tightening the belt on your fluffy white bathrobe, tugging at the terrycloth tail and twisting it in your fingers. Your eyes flitted to each member of your crew, all of them in position waiting to get this show on the road.

Why were you so nervous? You’d certainly done this enough times before not to get stage fright. So why did your stomach feel more tangled than the box of electrical cords in Lenny’s truck?

Part of you almost wished it would rain, or the ground would open up and swallow you whole so you didn’t have to go through with this. But the concrete remained solid under your feet, and the sky overhead showed no signs of altering its radiant blue color. Perfect.

It’s gonna be fine, you thought in an attempt to soothe yourself. It’s all gonna be fine.

And you almost believed it would be.

Sammy, who was barely a step up from an intern, had swiftly been promoted once the plan for you to replace your no-show leading lady was set in motion. You weren’t worried about her, though—she was smart and a quick study; she knew all the shots you needed, and she had a good eye.

If you couldn’t be behind the camera yourself, she was pretty much the only one you trusted.

Well…maybe not the only one.

Eddie’s eyes met yours as soon as you stepped out of the trailer. The sunlight hit his deep brown irises, making them glow the color of rich honey. But behind the liquid gold, you could see his own nerves and it made your stomach flip, wondering what he could possibly be nervous about.

“Hey,” he said quietly as he came up next to you. “You good?”

For a moment, you considered lying. Flashing him a thumbs up or shooting him finger guns like one of those tools you used to do this with. But you knew better by now when it came to Eddie.

“Nope,” you chuckled. “I’m kinda shitting myself.”

“Well, that’s just what the guy about to fuck you wants to hear,” he chuckled back.

A real smile breaks through your tense, fake one and a genuine laugh bubbles up out of your chest. Eddie’s eyes shine when he hears it and the sight makes your chest feel all warm inside.

“No, you’re right,” you said. “I’m okay, I just…don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

His plush pink lips pressed into a straight line, his tongue poking out as he licked them. He reached out a reassuring hand and placed it on your shoulder, rubbing it through your robe.

“You’re gonna be great,” he assured, sounding a lot more certain than you felt.

Easy for him to say. He’s a fucking natural.

Even on your best day doing this, you never felt like you were great at it—competent, sure. Maybe even above average. But not great. Not at all the way you felt since getting behind the camera.

You nodded tightly, your hesitation still written all over your face. His eyes scanned over you and he swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. He then leaned in and placed his lips beside your ear.

“You look…really beautiful,” he said.

His warm breath rushed across your neck, the heat coming off his skin making your ears buzz. An explosion of fluttering began in your stomach, like there were butterfly cocoons in your cereal that morning and now they were all hatching.

“We should get moving,” you said, pulling back. “Burning daylight.”

Eddie straightened. He nodded and you nodded back, sliding past him to do final checks before you started rolling. Telling yourself he must have pumped or popped a Viagra to explain away that bulge in his pants that definitely wasn’t there before he came over to talk to you.

The nerves didn’t disappear once you started working, but your body and brain did snap into a kind of performance mode you remembered well.

You started with some still photography for the VHS box art—shots of you in progressing states of undress, your robe dropping off your shoulder, Eddie pulling it open to reveal your body, his hand running up your thigh in a slow caress.

He let it trail all the way up your stomach and chest until he curled his finger under your chin and tipped your face toward his, letting his lips hover just inches away from yours. Your eyes fluttered closed and your heart raced, thinking he might close the gap and actually kiss you—

But after the shutter snapped, he simply let his hand drop and backed away. 

The loss of his body heat sent a chill down your spine and you shivered despite the blazing sun overhead. Eddie’s eyes caught yours, the nearly imperceptible lift of his brow asking, ‘you okay?’ You nodded and another shiver skittered across your skin as you pulled your robe back up.

For the next shot, you climbed up on the massage table and he got into position behind you. His body pressed yours down, your back arching under him as he dipped his head low to take the lobe of your ear between his teeth, palming your exposed breast with his large, strong hand. 

You let your mouth hang open, not even needing to fake the look of desperation on your face. And let yourself believe Eddie’s excitement you could feel digging into the fat of your ass was real too. The little grunts and whines he let out when you wriggled against him certainly didn’t sound fake.

After the photos, there was nothing left to do but move on to the main event. 

You and Eddie reset—him standing in frame, you just outside of it. Sammy panned the camera around, establishing the setting, zooming in on the fountain feature in the pool and then coming around to film Eddie as he snapped a fresh towel and laid it out on the massage table.

From your spot off-camera, it’s impossible not to be mesmerized by the sight. Biceps rippling, tendons in his arms flexing as he smoothed the towel flat. His tattoos stood out even more than normal with him in white slacks and a white polo meant to give the impression of him being an employee of the resort. And the little twist your hair and make-up girl Jael did is something new that only further accentuates the thick column of his neck and his angular jaw.

He’d left off his rings and bracelets, as was typical when he was filming, and you couldn’t help but think about that day in the editing suite. When he’d touched your knee, and you felt the silver ridges press into your flesh. It had jarred you somewhat, how right it felt to have his hand there and how you’d nearly leaned in to meet his lips when you saw his face getting closer.

You hadn’t kissed him that day—promptly removing yourself from temptation in an attempt to salvage some shred of your professionalism. And you (mostly) felt good about that decision. It would have been reckless and destructive and your entire working relationship might have been compromised. You’d made the right call that day, you were sure of it. Mostly…

But today was different. Today, it wasn’t going to derail your career. If anything, your career was mandating you give in to those urges that had plagued you so relentlessly. And that was when it hit you all at once—the realization about as subtle as a train crashing through a wall.

You were going to fuck Eddie.

You’re going to feel firsthand what it’s like to have his face and cock buried between your legs; what it’s like to suck on his fingers and soak them with your spit before he presses them to your clit; what he sounds like when he comes all over your stomach or tits (you can’t quite recall what the script specifies, you just know it’s meant to be outside so he can dotingly clean you up after). 

The barrage of thoughts that storm through your mind are so consuming, you nearly miss your cue to enter the scene. But once you do, you’re rather grateful for the distraction of the set-up dialogue:

“It’ll just be me, today. My husband has a meeting he couldn’t get out of.”

“No, no, it’s not his fault. I got it as a surprise for our anniversary—I should have known better than to book it without checking his schedule.”

“I’m afraid I never know how much to take off for a massage…what do you suggest?”

Eddie answered your last question with a smooth, “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” and a smile so warm it would melt the ice caps.

Giving him a smile of your own, you slowly pulled at the tie of your robe. It fell to the ground in a heap at your feet and Eddie’s dark eyes roved over you hungrily. Now revealed to be completely naked, you feigned some degree of shyness: ducking your head low, looking up at him from underneath your lashes, brushing your hand over your stomach as though to hide it while really drawing his eyes to its plush softness.

“Is this alright?” you asked him with a coy smirk. Eddie grinned, still drinking you in.

“Absolutely,” he breathed. And the raptness in his eyes almost had you believing him.

You took your time getting up on the table, propping yourself up on all fours, letting him (and the camera) take a good, long look at the fullness of your hips before you settled in place. Arms at your side, you took a deep breath as you laid flat on your stomach, relieved there wouldn’t be much dialogue needed for this next part.

Through the little donut headrest at the end of the table, you saw Sammy’s feet as she moved in close—filming tight on Eddie’s hands while he pumped massage oil onto them and warmed it by spreading it between his palms.

Your chest tightened, nerves coiling in your stomach as you anticipated his touch, forcing your body to keep still so you didn’t pull focus.

He smoothed some oil over your skin, starting at the ankles and thoroughly coating your calves. The smell of clary sage filled the air, earthy and warm. And underneath it, a clean and woodsy scent you recognized as Eddie’s soap wafted up to your nose when he leaned in closer.

His fingertips began to knead your muscles, slipping and sliding easily over your skin that was slick with the oil. He made tiny circles with his thumbs, alternating back and forth as they moved in a steady pattern up your calf.

Oh, that’s right…

In all the hubbub, you’d forgotten the whole concept for this shoot was borne on the fact that Eddie went to massage school for real. He’d told you before, after he left his hometown (shit, what was it again? Hawk-something…) that he started collecting different jobs like merit badges.

Just bounced from thing to thing, trying his hand (sometimes both) at whatever life presented. And that included porn. He’d said he only auditioned for that first film he did because someone he’d slept with a handful of times knew a casting director and suggested he’d be good at it.

“He certainly had the dick for it” were her exact words, if you recalled. Strange to think in a way, you might owe that girl your career.

Through the pleasurable haze your mind dipped into having Eddie’s capable hands erasing every ounce of stress you carried in your muscles, you realized he was moving the scene right along while you just lay there humming and moaning with relief at his practiced touch.

He’d lowered his voice to that deep, rumbly register he always used when he was building towards the next phase. His DM voice, as he so affectionately dubbed it. Rough and gravely, yet even and tempered, guiding both you and the audience along on the journey of this fuck.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying…but your husband’s a jackass for missings out on this.”

Your heartbeat picked up in your chest as he moved to your thighs. His fingertips dug into your flesh, kneading it like dough, letting his thumbs swerve dangerously close to your center.

“You deserve someone who puts you first…who knows what he has and worships you…”

One of his thumbs swiped briefly over your puffy lips, and you knew he felt how wet you were.

“You know, I’d never let you out of my sight if you were mine…”

His words dripped slowly and intentionally past his lips, his hands creeping higher and higher up your legs. At last, they slid over the globes of your ass and he groaned as he squeezed one in each hand, spreading you apart to see your center, soaked with arousal that had been pooling there, truth be told, from the moment Eddie had told you how beautiful you looked. 

You heard Eddie’s next line in your head before he said it, “If you really want to relax, I can try a very special technique. I don’t do it for just anyone. It’s a little bit…unorthodox…”

And you were more than ready to take him up on his offer once he delivered the line. 

But Eddie went off script.

Instead of hearing words, you felt the wet heat of his tongue glide through your folds as he buried his face between your spread ass cheeks. Your head popped out of the headrest, letting out a breathy moan of surprise and delight.

The shock on your face was evident as Sammy pushed in close to capture your expression, but so was your pure and utter elation. You’d never felt anything so good in your life…

And it seemed you weren’t the only one.

Eddie groaned loudly as he lapped messily at your folds, his spit mixing with your slick that covered the bottom half of his face. And it was only after a few blissful seconds of eager licking that he even realize what he’d done.

“I’m—mmph—sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” He panted out in between sinful swirls of his tongue, his he words muffled by your ass cheeks because he couldn’t stand to pull away even a little, even long enough to speak. “I had to taste you…”

”It’s okay,” you answered, voice already wrecked beyond belief. “It’s okay, just keep going—”

The command is directed at him as much as it is the crew, who only panicked slightly. Eddie never did stuff like this and they just weren’t ready.

They got back on track quickly enough, Sammy signaling the boom mic to get as close as he can without dipping into frame in order to pick up every lurid slurp and suck of Eddie’s mouth.

After no more than a few minutes, the fluffy towel under you was bunched in your fists and your hips squirmed as Eddie continued to eat you out like a mad man. His tight grip on your ass cheeks held fast, spreading you wider still so his tongue could probe deeper. The sounds he pulled out of you didn’t even sound human to your ears, let alone recognizable as your own voice. 

But you didn’t care.

However you sounded, however you looked, it was superfluous to what Eddie was doing and the precipice he brought you to. Your orgasm hit harder than any drug, than any physical blow. It had you shaking uncontrollably, reaching back to grip the hair at the crown of his head as your hips pushed back to meet every thrust of his tongue while you rode out your exceptional high.

You felt its tingling sensation spread to every inconsequential inch of your body, like an ocean of fire that crashed over you in wave after wave of scorching pleasure. Drowning you in it.

When you finally found the strength in your limp limbs to roll over onto your back, Eddie’s eyes were waiting to meet yours. You could see on his face how sorry he was, how worried he was he’d fucked up. And you tried to communicate with him in that mind-melding, wordless sort of way you and he always did that it was fine—that people were going to love it.

Cocking your brow at him, dipping into a more salacious tone to really sell the transformation from demure housewife to lusty adulterer, you threw in a little adlib of your own.

“That’s some technique you’ve got there,” you teased him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “My husband’s certainly never done that before.”

Eddie’s sly smile returned, his lips curling as he reached out to grip your waist. He hauled you closer with one jerk, bringing you to the edge of the table so your hips were flush with his. The bulge in his white pants was harder than ever when it pressed against your cunt, and he grinned wickedly when he felt just how ready you were for more. He yanked up the shirttail of his polo and whipped it off his body, tossing it behind him where it landed half in the pool.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tutted softly, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Tysm for reading! 🛸 comments and reblogs keep your skin clear and your crops watered 🫶🏻

[prongsx]

we are not children anymore, honey.

warning: swearing, a bit insinuating, f!reader, fluff.

where jason needs to remind you that you're not kids anymore and teasing him isn't the same anymore.

1,8k words

You met Jason Todd when you were both innocent children, well, as innocent as the crime alley allowed. He was your best friend, most of the scars he had back then were from picking fights with anyone who raised their voice at you, anyone who tried to sell you drugs or tried to be aggressive with you.

You had an easy body language, both of you touched each other often and played the usual games that children do, physical touch was never a distant thing.

You secretly had a crush on that somewhat reckless and smiling boy who protected you, always holding your hand. Maybe in the back of your mind you thought that one day you would get married.

At the time, he was a little shorter than you, a fact that deeply irritated him but made you laugh. Then he was adopted by Bruce Wayne and you thought that would be the end of your friendship, but there seemed to be a thread that connected you, not even taking on the mantle of Robin could separate you.

Then Jason was taken from you in the most abrupt way possible, by the hands of death itself. But not even that which seemed inescapable separated you for long, the grief that consumed you could have destroyed you, but something in your mind repeated that Jason would never leave you alone.

When Jason appeared at your door, years later, his blue eyes looking haunted, you cried, something in your heart that was dead seemed to come out of the ground in the same way as your best friend.

At first, you simply didn't know what to do with this new Jason, he himself seemed a little lost, the well had affected his emotions. He took up more space, his arms and hands were bigger. Doubts consumed you, afraid of never rescuing the old bond, but then you bought your old favorite cookie and he smiled at you.

That dimpled smile, which lit up his blue eyes and seemed to bring a reckless air to him. And you decided right then and there that nothing would stop you from being his best friend again.

The thing was that your friendship was based on a time when you were both younger and more naive, feelings were simpler. Jason died before you could be friends during that strange time in your adolescence when touching your friend seemed strange, the only memory your body had of your friendship with Jason was a sticky friendship.

"Only you could make me go to the other side of town to get that damn donut that tasted like paper." Jason grumbles, closing the latch on your window as he moves his huge body into your living room. At that moment, you feel the room shrink, and it feels like any false move will betray your racing heart as you watch Jason remove his helmet, his black curls messy in a cute way.

"They're great." You hum, reaching out to take the package from Jason.

"Seriously, there are so many bakeries with better donuts." He retorts, crossing his arms, drawing your attention to the outline of his biceps in his skintight uniform.

"The best isn't always going to be the tastiest."

Jason rolls his eyes at your completely nonsensical choice of words, flopping his tired body on the couch next to you.

"Jason, did you just sit on my couch in your dirty patrol gear?"

"Sweetie, I just walked halfway through this shitty city looking for that donut. I have a right to dirty your precious couch."

You let out a grunt, knowing he's right. He has the right, but that doesn't stop you from lightly pinching the side of his hip, where his suit had a layer of fabric.

He doesn't even blink at your attitude, his hands holding your wrist, his long fingers holding it as delicately as was allowed.

"I thought you gave up trying to play fight with me," he whispers, his voice heavy with that accent that makes your legs a little weak.

You shrug, your body approaching him almost as a reflex, your knee touching his. It's kind of annoying how much bigger he's gotten than you, and stronger. Much stronger, you know he could flip you over with a single hand and honestly the thought is more exciting than you want to admit.

"Sweet thing?" He calls to you, still with that sly smile on his lips. You blink slowly, coming back to reality.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you going to eat your delicious donut?"

"Yes. Yes." You say, nodding.

If before you thought Jason was cute, now you could write ridiculous poems about him, two stanzas just about his sapphire eyes.

He snuggled deeper into your couch, spreading his thighs and letting out a sigh of relief at the comfort.

"Tiring patrol?" He opened his eyes when he felt your hands lightly pinching his nose, trying to make him pay attention to you again. You would never admit it out loud, but having Jason's undivided attention was kind of addictive and intoxicating.

"You could say that."

You dropped the donuts on the living room table, suddenly feeling guilty. Even though it was just him teasing you, the store that sold your favorite donuts was really far away.

"I'm sorry I made you take my stupid donuts." He let out a breath when you rested your chin on his shoulder, staring at him from under your eyelashes.

"No. I don't forgive you." He teased, his hands going down to your waist and drawing circles there.

"Seriously, I was selfish." You repeat, looking down at the red bat symbol on his chest.

His blue eyes continued to stare at you, his hands coming up and lightly holding your chin, his eyebrows furrowed. Jason never accepted it when you seemed sad towards him, or when you made it seem like you were a hindrance in his life.

"Stop that shit."

A laugh escaped through your nostrils.

"You still have such a dirty mouth, Todd. My mother still blames you for the variety of curses I know."

He laughed, the sound going straight to your stomach. It should be forbidden for someone to have such a delightful laugh to hear. Jason wasn't as much of a laugh now as he used to be when he was a child, his innocence had been taken away from him years ago, so you drank every drop of his laughter you could.

"Well, I blame you every time I act stupid. We're even."

You reached your hands up to his hair and pulled lightly, like you used to do when you wanted to get back at him when you were kids. But this time, he didn't laugh you away or flick you in retaliation. His lips curved into a thin line and his eyes blinked so fast you thought you'd imagined it.

"Sweetie." Jason's voice was low, the nickname sending an electric shock through your body. "We're not kids anymore."

"You're still just as annoying." You joked, praying he wouldn't notice the slight crack in your voice.

"No, sweet thing, you didn't understand what I meant." He said, his blue eyes staring straight into your face. His hands moved down to your hips, pulling you closer to him, your legs almost resting on his thigh. "I'm saying we're not kids anymore." He repeated.

"Yes. I obviously know that."

He let out a long sigh, as if you were irritating him with your stupidity.

His slightly chapped lips parted as he said something that you were momentarily lost in, your hands resting on his muscular thigh. He gripped your chin tighter when he noticed your inattention and felt your hand on his thigh.

"See? That's what I'm saying." He let out a laugh that wasn't like before, it wasn't genuine and open-hearted, it was low and had a feeling you couldn't quite grasp. "You keep touching me and teasing me like we're children."

"I can stop." You stammered, very confused and feeling a little dizzy. This new Jason Todd, with more scars and less shyness, was making your throat suddenly close up.

"You're not supposed to stop." He whispered, his other hand coming back to grab the back of your neck and pull your faces so close you could feel his warm breath. "Just letting you know that now, when you lie on top of me and stare at me like that, my first thought isn't to play fight with you, darling." His hand squeezed your chin lightly as he added, his voice lower, "When you stare at me like that, all I think about is kissing you stupid."

Forming words seemed harder than ever.

"Ah."

"Ah," he mimicked you in a thin voice, a goofy smile on his face, his grip on your chin bringing your lips close to his. "I say I want to make you sigh my name and that's all you have to say?"

You clear your throat, your eyelashes fluttering slightly. The hand resting on his thigh makes an involuntary movement to lightly squeeze the muscle there. Jason's blue eyes darken, a noise close to a growl leaving his lips.

"You keep doing these things. Fuck, baby, every time you almost climb on my lap like it's nothing." He took a deep breath, as if he was losing his mind, closing his eyes so as not to get lost in his own thoughts. "You must know what you're doing to me."

"No. I. No." You repeated, still very overwhelmed by how close you were. Your best friend, staring at you like he was about to destroy you.

He smiled again at your mental confusion, brushing his lips against yours and letting out a low moan that made you gasp. "Let me kiss you, please?"

You nodded, crashing your lips against his before you had to beg for it. Jason's lips were rough against yours, as if he was punishing you for making him wait, for making him yearn for this.

Jason's ability to focus on multitasking was evident when he pulled you to sit fully on his lap, without separating your lips, his hands moving up and down your body, swallowing the small moans that came out of your mouth.

"I think I've already thought of a way for you to pay for your stupid donuts," he whispered, pulling your lips away for a few seconds to smile at you.

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in years. Your hands cupped his face, caressing his cheek. There were so many questions and doubts swirling around your mind, but Jason pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

"Honey, it took you a long time to realize that you're mine. Just relax."

You blinked away the tears, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, a genuine smile on your lips.

Your best friend was in love with you too, and everything would be okay.

I hope you liked it, sorry for the mistakes, I need to review all my works. My epub box is open, I just want to write more for Jason!! I'm stupid for him. And I'll be dying on the hill that Jason Todd has a dirty mouth. I'm trying to write for a gender-neutral reader but I've discovered that I have difficulty, I'm sorry, but I'll keep trying.

[veritasangel]

Can you do something with Simon and Price and reader? fluff or smut please:)

warnings: fem pov, contains nsfw content {mdni}, oral (giving/receiving), cum swallowing, handjob, threesome, price x simon

a/n: i haven't written smut in a while so it feels sloppy, sorry ↣ wc: 1.8k

Thinking about being one of the newer members to the 141 and you’ve quickly attached yourself to price and simon.

Late nights, when the rest of the team had turned in, you were often sat between them both. Price lights a cigar; the all-familiar tobacco smell mingles in the night air, the dancing flame casting shadows over his face.

Ghost, on the other hand, pulls you into his side with soft ease, as if it were the most natural thing. His arm falls over your shoulders, his body relaxed in ways you'd never see during the day-not when he's the silent, sharp-edged soldier everyone else knows. But here, in the quiet night on the base, he lets his guard down just enough.

Price's eyes flickered to where Ghost had you nestled against him, a quiet smirk playing on his lips. Though it wasn't just amusement lighting up his gaze-there was something possessive in it, something knowing, like he and Ghost were sharing some silent agreement over your head. 

Price turned to you, "Comfortable?" he asked, his tone layered with something more than curiosity.

You nodded, the warmth spreading through your chest, though whether from the closeness of their bodies or the way the gaze of Price lingered on you-you weren't quite so sure. You shifted slightly, only to feel Ghost's grip tighten, his fingers curling around your shoulder.

"Stay still, love," Ghost said, his voice in that low rumble, the quiet way he always spoke, but unmistakable beneath the tone tonight. His hand slid down your arm, deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of fire behind it. "We've got you."

Price chuckled low and deep as he watched your eyes flutter innocently at Ghost's words. "Poor thing," he said, the humour in his tone bleeding away to something a little softer, "Reckon you're not used to all this attention, are you?"

Before you could even respond, Price's hand landed on your knee, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles over the smooth skin. It felt like they were closing in on either side, enveloping you entirely, and you leaned into it.

"You don't have to do much, y'know," Price said again, and though his tone was teasing, it remained soothing. "Just let us take care of you."

Your words caught in your breath, your heart beating just a little bit faster as you tried to make sense of the change in air between the three of them, there was a possessiveness to the way they seemed so attuned to you.

Ghost's fingers brushed against your chin, his fingers tilting your head slightly towards him. "You're sweet, precious," he whispered, his eyes dark with the search for a reaction in yours. The edge in his tone was full of meaning. "Maybe a little too innocent for your own good, yeah?”

“I’m not-”

Price chuckled again, this time leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your neck. "It’s alright, nothing to be ashamed of," he said softly, voice almost a purr now. "Simon and I… we'll look after you."

His tone sent shivers down your spine, not out of fear but from the silent promise beneath his words. How their hands seemed to caress your skin in unison, touching you in a way that belied their sharp and deadly exteriors, your pulse racing at just the thought. You felt as though you were theirs-a shared treasure between them, and they had no intention of letting you go.

Ghost's thumb brushed your bottom lip and his eyes darkened just a fraction as he spoke again. "We'll take real good care of you, love. Won't let anything hurt you. Not while you've got us."

Price's hand had moved from your knee, drifting upwards to your thigh with slow, deliberate care. "You've no need to worry anymore," he murmured, the voice rich with the familiar comforting authority. "Between me and Simon, you'll always be safe.”

His touch was a blanket of warmth that wrapped you whole, and you couldn't help but sink deeper between them. By the way they looked at you, it was clear they'd taken it upon themselves to protect and cherish you-so long as you were willing to let them.

And of course, it wasn't long before these nights together turned into a whole lot more.

Price's grip on you tightens as Simon licks along your slit, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave marks. He can feel your body tensing, your breath hitching as Simon's tongue flicks against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

"That's it, love," Price murmurs, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Let him take care of you. You're doing so well." His hands wandered your body; one cupped one of your breasts, and the other drew circles on your side. He leaned into you, his beard rough against your neck as he nipped at the sensitive skin there.

Simon's fingers join his mouth, sliding inside you as his tongue continues its relentless assault. Price can feel your body seeking more, and he grins, knowing just how much you're enjoying this.

"Look at her, Simon," Price says in a husky voice. "She's fucking gorgeous like this. All flushed and needy." He leans back, giving Simon a better view of you, and watches as Simon's eyes darken with lust.

Price presses his cock against your ass, grinding into you, a low groan breaking free from him. "Fuck, angel," he mutters. "You feel so good. So fucking perfect."

You can feel the heat emanating from Price's body; the way he seems to revel in this moment-in your pleasure-is intoxicating. Simon's fingers curl inside you, and you arch your back, a moan slipping past your lips.

Price's hand slips from your breasts down to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles in perfect rhythm with Simon's tongue. The dual stimulation hits you at once, and you cling to Price, your nails digging into his skin as you allow yourself to fall deeper into the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

"She's close." Price growls, his voice hoarse. "You gonna’ come for us, pretty?" Simon's mouth works faster, his tongue flicking your clit with renewed urgency. 

You cry out, your body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you, leaving you trembling in Price's lap. Simon continues, drawing it out as much as he can before he pulls back, his eyes dark and hungry. Price's hand stays where it is, teasing your sensitive clit a little as he watches Simon stand up, his own cock hard and ready. Price's hand slides away, and he stands too, tugging you up with him.

"Get on your knees, love," Price orders in a strong voice. "Say thank you to Simon."

Still trying to catch your breath, you fall to your knees in front of Simon. His cock, thick and heavy, beading with precum.You don’t hesitate to take him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip..

Price stands behind you, watching you pleasure Simon, his hand resting on your head. "That's it-" he praises, his hand guiding your head, "Take care of him like he took care of you."

Simon's hand finds its way to the back of your head too, guiding you as his hips buck, forcing more of his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Price watches, the satisfied grin still plastered on his face as he leans over, his lips meeting Simon's in a heavy, passion-filled kiss. His hand disappears from your head, now sliding to Simon's hip to pull him closer as their tongues dance.

You continue to pleasure Simon, your lips sliding up and down his shaft, your hand joining the effort to help the parts you can’t reach. The sight of Price kissing Simon only adds to your own arousal, the two looking as though it’s not the first time.

Price draws back from the kiss. "She's a natural, isn't she?" he murmurs-low and husky. "Takes’ to everything we ask her to do like she was born for it."

Simon nods, his eyes meeting yours whilst you continue sucking him off. "Fucking amazing," he agrees. "She's so goddamn responsive. I love seeing her like this."

"And she's ours," he says, a possessive edge to his voice. "No one else gets to have her like this. Just us."

Simon's grip on your head tightens as his hips move faster. "God, yes," he growls.

As his breathing becomes increasingly ragged, he reaches for Price's cock with his free hand. His fingers wrap around the shaft as he begins to stroke it in time with your mouth on him. 

The sight of the two of them, the way they work together is intoxicating, your body humming with arousal. Price's fingers tug your hair gently while Simon's hips buck into your mouth, growing closer to the edge.

Simon's thrusts become more erratic as his orgasm washes over him, ropes of cum coating your tongue, before you swallow, much to his approval. Price observes this scene, his own orgasm not far behind either.

Price groans as Simon's strokes bring him closer to his own release. "Fuck, Simon," he growls, voice thick with desire. "You're going to make me come."

Simon's strokes don't let up, his thumb continuing to tease the head of Price's cock. "Go on then" he orders, his voice low in his chest. "Let go."

You draw back, eyes locked with Price as Simon's hand works him faster. You can see the tension in his body, muscles pulled tight and ready to snap.

Price's breath catches, his body straining as his orgasm rips through him. He groans, his head falling forward onto Simon’s shoulder as his release spills over Simon's hand and some dripping onto you as his body shakes from the force of it.

As Price descends from his high, he looks down at you, his eyes satisfied. He reaches out, hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes away the white glob from your cheek.

"You're such a good girl" he utters in a soft, murmuring tone. "All ours."

Simon pulls you up into his arms, his lips finding yours in a deep passionate kiss. You taste yourself on him, and it only serves to turn you on further.

Price watches, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as Simon takes over the kiss, his hand sliding down your back to your ass.

The three of you fall onto the bed again, bodies intertwined. And in this moment, surrounded by their warmth and strength, you know you're exactly where you're meant to be.

༄ cod m.list

© veritasangel ↣ do not copy or translate any of my works.

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or something even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Cleve gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head his nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna

[euthymiya]

i think kinich would be so into getting his head scratched like i swear he’d curl up like a little cat

[ POST-COMMISSION — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: post commission kinich aka tired kinich aka clingy cat kinich happens to be your all time favorite version of kinich

before you read: gender neutral reader ; ajaw’s typical bickering (but he has a soft spot for reader) ; tired kinich ; kinich’s forehead makes a cameo (lolll) ; just a clingy sleepy saurian hunter getting his head scratchies :(

“You seem tired,” you hum, grinning down as his head falls onto your lap. Kinich is only half awake when he grumbles something incoherently under his breath, slumping his weight down as his face buries into your shirt and his arms wrap around your waist.

“Oh you should’ve seen him,” Ajaw snickers, popping up from behind your shoulder to look down at your lap, smugly adding, “that saurian almost took him right out! It’s too bad it didn’t. Then the Almighty Dragonlord Ku’hul Ajaw could’ve taken his body and—”

“You’ll get thrown off a cliff if you don’t shut up,” Kinich glowers.

You laugh, earning an unimpressed huff from him until your fingers tangle into his hair, leaving soothing scratches against the his scalp as his eyes flutter shut instantly. “Oh, c’mon. How do you both have the energy to bicker like this after such a tiring day?”

“He started it,” Kinich grumbles. His voice is almost slurred, like your touch has drained the last remaining bits of his consciousness.

You think maybe it has.

“You filthy maggot,” Ajaw screeches, “how dare you accuse me of—”

“Ajaw,” you protest. He silences petulantly, but not without a petty grunt before he floats off.

“Why does he listen to you?”

You look down at Kinich amused, pushing back the bandana on his forehead to expose the skin, brushing his bangs from his face as you lean down and press a soft peck. He hums, satisfied with the affection enough to curl his body into yours even closer.

“Maybe because I’m nice,” you grin. “And cute.”

“You are cute,” he agrees.

You watch him fondly, the way his eyes fight to stay open as he blinks up at you, trying to keep himself awake. Your grin widens as he yawns, earning him the reward of your soft giggle and your thumb tracing over his temple.

“You should sleep.”

“Not tired,” he grunts. “How was your day.”

“Great,” you say vaguely, looking at him with a knowing gaze. “Now sleep.”

“Said I’m not tired,” he insists stubbornly. You can see the crinkles in his forehead when his brows furrow without the bandana to cover them up. It pulls a smile across your lips, your thumb trailing down to trace the lines delicately.

It’s easier to read his emotions this way—not that you had trouble before, anyway. You can read the look in his eyes and catch the subtle flickers of emotions easily. But he looks more vulnerable this way, more bare and less hidden.

“You should wear this less,” you hold up his bandana to wave over his face, “you have a cute forehead.”

“Now I’m never going to take it off,” he grins sleepily, earning a half-hearted glare from you.

“Then less forehead kisses for you,” you counter.

He looks smug, even for someone who seems so close to falling asleep. A low rumble of his chuckle vibrates against your body before his low voice murmurs, “I doubt that. You’ll still do it anyway.”

His eyes close, breath evening out. You admire the sharp curves of his features, hand moving from his head to let your finger trace along the slopes of his face—except they don’t make it very far.

Not when his hand is too fast to catch your wrist, keeping you firmly in place with a low grunt of protest.

“What—”

“Keep doing that,” he demands quietly, eyes peering up at you tiredly before they flutter shut again. And almost like he’s waiting until he’s certain you’ll really continue, his breathing only evens out once more when your fingers tangle into the dark locks again.

“So demanding,” you chuckle. He drifts off, and you think love is the sound of soft snores and the feeling of soft hair between your fingertips.

Dear cat distribution system, please send my way one (1) tired and sleepy cat that also is named Kinich that also has a dendro vision and is a saurian hunter with a very loud and obnoxious saurian companion who wants him dead for his body and is contractually binded to him for the time being. Again, that’s one (1) tired and sleepy cat that also is named Kinich that also has a dendro vision and is a saurian hunter with a very loud and obnoxious saurian companion who wants him dead for his body and is contractually binded to him for the time being—thank you!

[thaatdigitaldiary]

passenger princess

paige bueckers x fem reader

disclaimer!! i don’t usually write fics, i’m better at writing educationally (lame) but me & my friends wanted me to try something out of my comfort zone so enjoy. criticism is welcome, but be kind!

this is based off of the picture i posted of paige earlier so that’s the context (also on the banner)

tags: @rosemariiaa & @patscorner for encouraging me to do this elohel kisses to yall

enjoy 🤫

it was 10:47 am. the ac blasting throughtout your studio apartment. you tossed and turned in your bed, groaning from the lack of sleep the night before, caused by a stressful day of work yesterday, completely draining you. you were in a slump to say the least, and the only person who could help cheer you up, was your girlfriend. as you picked up your phone, it vibrated suddenly with a notification popping up, “p 💓” it read, and you opened the message.

it was a picture of her and a brand new car, a red cadillac with a black interior. after the picture comes through, another message follows.

“surprise?” it reads, and you’re shocked, not only about the fact that your girlfriend impulsively bought a new car, but how undeniably beautiful she looked.

her beautiful blonde hair, roots slowly coming through, but she made them look so good. she was clad in a gray sweatshirt despite this summer heat, and those stupid, yet adorable 2024 sunglasses you gave her for new years last year perched on her head.

as you go to text her back, you hear a knock at your front door. you fix your hair and throw your robe on, and go to answer it, while a text that just came through your phone appears.

“i’m outside”

“hi baby.” she says standing in front of you, grinning like a kid who just entered a candy store, jingling her new keys.

“paige.” you say sternly, slighting smirking at the fact that she was so excited to show you her new car. despite the fact that you and her have been dating since your sophomore year of college, she still made you nervous.

from her tall, lean figure, to her beautiful eyes that wander everytime you two see each other. she starts talking, but you can’t stop looking at her.

“baby.” she says, laughing a little. you were staring, and hadn’t heard a word she said to you.

“im sorry, did you say something?” you say, chuckling nervously, feeling embarrassed, but paige never found it embarrassing, she found it cute, matter of fact she loved it.

“i said did you wanna come ride wimmie? you gotta be the first in this car and you know that.” she tells you, leaning on your doorframe, taking you in. she looked you up and down and bit her lip, admiring you and your figure.

“of course p, lemme get dressed and fix my hair, i shouldn’t be too long.” you say sweetly, smiling at her and kissing her on the cheek.

she goes to sit on your couch, manspreading per usual, watching you walk away and into your room to find something to wear.

you rummage through your closet to find something comfortable but cute to wear, just in case you two make any stops, which you knew you would.

you do some finishing touches on your hair, leaving it down, just how paige liked it.

you walk out of your room, having a slight sway to your hips as you walk, which drove paige insane. you wore jean shorts and a black tube top, with your “p” necklace sparkling around your neck.

“jesus ma.” she says, whistling while her eyes travel all over your figure.

“what? should i change?” you asked with concern, worried you were overdressed.

“fuck no, you look beautiful, especially repping me like that,” she says, referring to the necklace with her initial on it, as she rubs her hands together and bites her lip, making you laugh.

“we can go wherever you want to mama, i filled the tank right after i left the dealership.” she grabs her lanyard with her keys attached to it out of her sweatpants pocket, and goes to open the front door for you.

“hm, there’s a new spot not too far from here, they got real good breakfast food, me and jana went the other day.”

“anything for you ma.” she tells you, sneaking a kiss in as you approach her car.

“okay this is beautiful p, and shiny as hell jesus,” you say, describing the darkish red colored car your girlfriend just impulsively bought.

“it needs a beautiful girl to sit in it y’know,” and you roll your eyes at her corniness, but you secretly love it. she opens the door for you and closes it behind you, and walks to the driver’s seat.

about 10 minutes pass and you two are almost at your destination. paige hooked up her bluetooth to her car as soon as she got it, you both listening to her playlist and singing along with the windows down and the wind blowing in your faces.

paige watched as your hair flowed in the wind, your smile so beautiful, and all she could think about what was how lucky she was, getting to see you whenever she wanted, hold you, kiss you, and be there for you, all the time.

she rested her hand on your thigh, driving with one hand, and smiling.

“baby,” you said softly.

“yeah ma?”

“i love you.”

“i love you more than anything ma, yk that.”

you two made it to the restaurant, paige disconnecting her phone from the aux, and gets out to open the door for you.

you could really get use to this new car smell, and being paige’s passenger princess for a long, long time.

I HOPE YALL ENJOYED! this might be a one time thing as i could never be too consistent but lemme know any feedback and i love you guys! 🙂‍↕️

[sh1-n0bu]

yall really thought i was done with monster reader? nuh uh. VAMPIRE READER WITH A SHY MONSTERFUCKER CHARACTER

a shy monsterfucker who didn’t knew they were a monsterfucker yet, who didn’t knew of the kinks they had yet to awaken in themselves, who only thought of themselves as vanilla meeting you for the first time and thinking that you feel not so human. don’t get them wrong, there was nothing about you that was out of place. you looked human but you just… didn’t really felt like it at times

maybe it was the way you sometimes yawned and your jaws opened just a little bit too wide. maybe it was the way you were able to see so damn well in the darkness, eyes sometimes nearly glowing until they shake their head and your eyes looked just fine. maybe it was the way they slowly noticed that you barely ate anything whenever you hung out together, merely ordering a black coffee with extra shots or asking for the black coffee to be made just a little bit thicker. maybe it was the way your smile stretched just a little bit too big to be normal, sharp fangs and canines glistening

either way, you didn’t feel normal. you didn’t feel entirely… human, to them. but they find themselves shrugging it off, still thinking of you as their friend and a close companion

it all gets thrown out when you go radio silent one day. no phone calls, no notifications, no messages or hell, letters. just silence. worried sick, they make their way over to your house, using the spare key you gifted them and stepping inside to a dark and messy home. blinds closed shut, home miserable and, were those claw tears in the back of the couch?

feeling their guts churning with the desire to run away, they call out your name under their breath, akin to a whisper. when receiving no response, they call out again, feeling like they want to run away as they think of their choices. only a one step deeper into your messy home and their vision was swimming, being slammed down onto the floor as something hisses above them before it trails off into a low laugh. dazed, they open their eyes to find… you. except, it wasn’t really you. glowing slitted eyes, wide smile and a sense of danger

“fresh prey, walking straight into my grasp. must be my lucky day…” even your voice sounded weird, as if two people were talking at the same time. one, your normal voice and the other more high pitched. like how some creatures’ voice becomes higher pitched to mimic others and lure prey into their grasp. like… a monster

they tried to flee, to talk sense into you, fear and desperation tugging at their heart as their words trail off into a terrified whimper when your jaws open just a little bit wider, slits appearing at the sides as a long forked tongue runs over knife like sharp fangs before closing again. this felt like a nightmare, something they never really thought of happening before. they could only look away, tears stinging in their eyes when your clawed, stretched fingers tear off a piece of their shirt’s neck area open, thinking that you will tear them apart like how you just did with their clothes just now

a shy monsterfucker who lets out a yelp when they feel a wet feeling on their neck, something long and wet slithering over the skin as if softening the flesh there. despite the fear churning their stomach, they couldn’t help but whine out as their body suddenly started to feel hot. so needy and pathetically hard and wet in their pants like a hormonal teenager as they stare at your long tongue. even as you laugh at the flushed look on their face and make some demeaning remark, all they could do was stare

and to their own horror, they let out a fucking moan when your sharp fangs bite down on the same place you just licked at, head thrown back onto the floor as a loud plea for more falls from their lips. pleas of biting their neck more, tear their flesh apart with your fangs, clench down those strong jaws, absolutely ruin them to your own pleasure. they didn’t get it, wasn’t it supposed to hurt? at least, from all the movies and books, but no, it felt good. even as their blood gets drawn out and your canines dig into their flesh, tearing the skin apart, all they could do was moan out loud like a desperate harlot. mind muddled and body twisting to weakly hump at your knee between their legs, even as your jaws let go of their neck and licked the wounds close, they could only whimper at the loss of the feeling

the next morning, they woke up in your bed, surrounded in comfort and soft beddings. was… last night a dream? were they imagining it all? a wet dream?

their confused brain stops whirring question and theory after one another as the door to the room opens, you stepping in with a cup of steaming hot tea in your hand and a plate of some fruits cut into small pieces in the other. looking just fine and normal, no fangs, no blood, no strange slits at the corner of your mouths, no long slithering tongue, just a normal [name], albeit a tiny bit worried. so it was all just a wet dream…

since that day and that strangely realistic dream that the shy monsterfucker thought they had, it became a bit hard for them to look you in the eye and hold a normal conversation. they were fucking embarrassed, hell ashamed even, by their own thoughts that conjured up such image of you in their own sleep. they always knew you gave off an eerie, not-so-very-human vibes but even then, imagining you as a goddamn vampire who saw them as your prey was... a little bit too much. they didn't even found vampires attractive, but if you were to somehow magically turn into one, maybe they wouldn't mind it much. of being your bloodbag, your sweet prey, your willing sacrificial lamb that you toy and flaunt like a trophy pet

shy monsterfucker who gets too sexually frustrated easily ever since that one specific dream, always staring into your mouth whenever you're looking away and talking or laughing, hoping to see a glimpse of an unusually sharp fangs. who think they do indeed see something and immediately lets out a quiet whimper, thighs squishing and rubbing together as that one dream plays out in their mind again. who excuses themselves from the hang out earlier so they can go home under the guise of a "not feeling very good today", when in reality they would be touching themselves again that night, humping their pillows with pathetic broken moans of your name. sometimes, when feeling bolder, they would say the same pleads they did in their dream, asking you to bite them as they throw their heads back, neck free and pristine. if they shut their eyes tight and imagined hard enough, they could remember the phantom feeling of your slithered tongue running over their skin. humping at their pillow harder with a broken sob of your name as their body shakes, soiling their pillow case with their own cum again for the nth time in the last 2 days, changing it once more

they didn't get it, they usually had just a normal amount of sex drive, who barely got horny unless they were intoxicated or something. this newfound sexual frustration was weird to them. new and scary with the ways it left their body all hot and bothered just by looking at you. staring, waiting and gulping down saliva to wet their throat as their mind goes to the gutter. imagining your clawed hands trailing over their bare skin, maybe leave a few small cuts if you feel like it, hold over their hips a bit too tightly to leave a bruise, bite at their porcelain skin. would you make them your personal bloodbag if they acted good and begged hard enough?

shy monsterfucker who gets caught, mind too fuzzy with filthy thoughts as they moaned out your name into their pillows as you invite yourself inside their home with a bag of fresh fruits that you bought for them to get better, the spare key they gifted you in your hand. who didn’t knew they were caught, thinking of it as simply one of their imaginations again as they see you standing on the doorway to their room, leaning on the doorframe with a low hum

“i knew i used too much calming saliva on you” you say out loud, only getting a broken whimper of your name as their fingers curl inside their hole, tired and confused. vampires had a special aphrodisiac like mixture in their saliva that they used to calm their prey before feasting and to their bad luck, you have accidentally used an excessive amount when you drank from them few days ago

“[n-naameee]♡︎ ahck t-touch me! touch me, please♡︎…?” they cried out, hearts swirling in their pupils, face flushed to the tips of their ears as they whined out deliriously with an open mouth. a sweet prey, right in your grasp. since you were the one to cause it, it would only be right to fix your mistakes right? cooing out words of faux comfort, you step over their sweat clung body, taking in the way they looked so out of it. all wet and hard, too dazed to even say your name properly

shy monsterfucker who immediately lets out a squeal when your fingers push into their hole, while their own fingers were inside too! please be gentle, at least let them get their own fingers out first? who only could let out a broken sob when they could feel how deep your fingers curled inside them, feeling the way your fingers stretched and fucked their pathetic hole open easily. they were nothing but just a weak sex toy for you, a meager little bunny whose legs twitched and shook every time the pads of your fingers jabbed at that bundle of nerves inside them, squeaking like the precious little thing they were

“baahn—! aangh ah haang buh-bite..?” they asked, teary eyes staring up at you with so much love and lust as their wet lashes flutter against their red cheeks. “b-bite me♡︎..? aamh haah i... i’ve been such a go-ooddd♡︎♡︎ good bloodbag for yoouu♥︎!!” they blabber on, arm wrapping around your shoulder as they try to pull you down to their neck. the bite mark of a few days earlier already gone and healed thanks to your healing saliva. you could just hear the thrumming of fresh red liquid from under their skin, heart beat loud and erratic like a war-drum, begging you to tear them apart

shy monsterfucker who lets out the loudest moan, breaking down into pathetic blabbers of gratitude and pleads for more as you gave in to the instincts to feed. back arching up from the bed so prettily, soft chest against your own, a rapid beating heart under their own skin that you could feel against your cold, still one. shy monsterfucker who lets out a filthy squeal, tightening around your fingers as they cum on your hand, soiling it as the tears that built up in their heart pupil eyes finally fall down

shy monsterfucker who begs for a kiss, asking for your lips to be against their own. who lets out a cute muffled sob when you do just as they asked, tasting the metallic taste of their own blood on your lips before something long slithers down their throat. long and wet with a thicker textured saliva coating it, being pushed into their mouth, forcing their jaws open as they choke of their own moan as you continue to torture that tender spot inside their tight hole. gagging as your tongue slithers down their throat, feeling the way their adam’s apple feels a little bit wider due to how deep you showed your tongue inside their mouth

shy monsterfucker who could only cum dry, into your hands, tired and body aching due to their constant actions to try and relieve their sexual frustration. mouth left open, swollen lips wet with your mixed salivas that connect your faces just a little bit longer as your forked tongue comes slithering back out. eyes all hazy, nearly shut close with how low lidded they were. you would have mistaken them for unconscious if it weren’t for the weak whimper of a “mmghh—! s-shoo goowd♥︎ t-tongue... wan’ your tongue inside meegh♡︎♡︎” as they weakly wiggled their hips

shy monsterfucker who watches as you seemingly easily manhandle their body so you could do as they nicely asked, their strong body meaning nothing to you. who watches with their hands on the pillows by their head, neck painted a saccharine red that you loved, lust heavy eyes staring at you as a few tears fall from them. who lets out a broken sob as they see the way your jaws open a bit too wide, slits appearing at the edges of your lips to make it easier for your long tongue to come out. like a snake, it licks at their inner thighs, bloodied fangs leaving cuts on the tender flesh there as their legs violently trembled in your grasp

shy monsterfucker who chokes on their moans, head getting thrown back as your tongue pushes past their tight walls, eagerly humping your face as much as their shaking body could allow, feeling the way your tongue reached deep inside them — more than any meager sex toys or dildos ever could, twisting their insides. wailing out “guhhckk♥︎♥︎! s-sho deEEHNGK♡︎ y-your tongue— f-fuckinnh aanh nyah♥︎!! fuckinng my guts! aah ngaah—♥︎!” as they felt the way your tongue moved back and forth inside their hole, claws digging into their legs and thighs to keep them in place, forcing them to keep their legs open. who blabbers drunkenly about their mind melting, mushing up their words as they slur your name before fucking squirting. shrill noise between a moan and a squeal falling from their swollen lips before losing consciousness

shy monsterfucker who will most definitely ask you to bite them again the next time they wake up

⇨ dan heng, yingxing, argenti, moze, bronya, firefly, gepard, robin, caelus, yukong, legolas, lindir, meludir, baizhu, charlotte, diluc, furina, ganyu, kaveh, nilou, kokomi, xiao, calcharo, jiyan, xiangli yao, rover, zhezi, shorekeeper, aerith, zack, angeal, tifa, vincent, sephiroth + anyone you think will fit, really

[monstersflashlight]

do you have anything about some sort of reptile-based monster that involves hemipenes? i think it’s a very cool way to do double penetration with only one top

A/N: First part of this was one of the stories in the 10k followers event (find it here). Enjoy!

Lizard-brain: the research

Lizardman x fem!reader || double penetration, hemi-peens, tail play, light choking, exhibitionism, dirty talk (low key)

When he pulled out, you felt your holes twitching at the same time a mechanical voice said from the speakers: “You did well, researcher, very interesting data was recorded.” Shit, you forgot there were people watching and probably saw you get fucked within an inch of your life. All your coworkers just watched you getting double creampied by a giant lizard-man. Great.

You were allowed to go home after that, your boss telling you to go clean yourself and the next day you could go over the data with them. Your lizard mate wasn’t happy about it, but he complied knowing he could see you the next day. You felt many emotions when you left the place, not ready to name any of them, you only showered and went to sleep, your body sore in the best way possible.

You arrived to the facility next day, and the first thing your boss said was: “We need you to do it again,” you looked at them confused, what the fuck did they mean.

“What?” You asked, looking at the monitors in the wall to try catch a sight of your mate.

He explained some of the data they collected, but how it was still very early in the research to know for sure, that’s why they said: “We need more data, and you are his mate after all.” You looked at him with understanding, your scientific brain already working all the possible conclusions of all the data collected so far and how much more you could know if you kept it. But also...

“I need to talk to him about this,” you told them. You had feelings for a big monster, and he considered you his mate, there was a lot of possible ethical problems there.

“Oh yes, it talks. True.” They said, but like it didn’t matter at all.

That infuriated you, but you swallowed your complaints, trying to understand why you felt so protective over him. And then it clicked, mate bonds weren’t only one way, he felt the mate bond, but you felt it back. You cemented your bond with sex and now you felt tied to him the same way he was tied to you. That realization should have scared you, but only made your stomach flip with butterflies. You had a mate. And that came with a new goal in mind: demonstrate that lizard-people could go outside and live like equals to humans. That started with proving your mate bond was true and necessary, scientifically. And if that meant to be fucked in front of some researcher, so be it.

The talk with your mate went as well as expected. He was more than okay with the idea of fucking you again, but not so keen on the idea of other people being there. But the head researcher insisted it was important for somebody to be in the room with you to catalog fine movements and reactions that cameras couldn’t capture. You agreed with them on that, that’s the only reason you accepted (nothing to do with the fact that you might or might not have a bit of an exhibitionist kink).

And that’s why you were naked over a medical bed with your lizard-man mate over your body and a researcher standing a few meters away. Your pussy was already wet, needy and desperate to be filled to the brim again. Your lizard mate was looking at you intensely, caressing your body with one hand as he jerked his upper dick with the other. You knew this position meant big dick downstairs, and you were already anticipating the stretch.

He approached you and rubbed his small upper dick against your entrance. “Good job, keep going,” the researcher instructed. “Touch her pussy.”

Your lizard stopped and turned to look at them. “Don’t tell me what to do with my mate,” he growled, making the researcher step back and cover their mouth. “You are here because she wanted it, but I will kill you if you say more,” the danger in his tone indicated he wasn’t kidding. And it made your clit tingle.

You reached up to touch his face and redirect his attention to you, rolling your hips to feel his dick against your needy pussy. He pushed his dick slowly, breathing hard over you, his eyes never leaving yours. You could hear his tail thrashing behind him as you caressed his head with your short nails. He purred, making you giggle as he pushed his upper dick a bit further inside your pussy. The groan he got in response made him chuckle as you felt his claws probing your asshole.

“Are you going to be a good mate today, too?” His question was filled with hope, and you could only nod, trusting him and his magic precum to make it possible. Seeing as you woke up without any pain, you guessed the magic was more than great and would help you out this time around, too. “Such a good mate for me, your holes are so perfect,” he was talking to you but not really. He seemed far away, like your pussy was transporting him into another dimension.

He started rubbing his big dick against your asshole, and you instantly felt the calmness and relaxation of his precum, allowing him to push the tip inside. You cried out, way too big. There was no pain, but the stretch was noticeable as he kept going, and going, and going… By the time he was fully inside you were breathing hard and he had crazed eyes. It was intoxicating.

“How is he doing that?” The researcher asked out loud, stepping a bit closer and earning themselves a warning growl.

“Ssssshut up!” Your lizard mate hissed in their direction, his pace fluttering at the distraction.

“But I-” The researcher tried again.

You looked over at them, trying to move your hips to get your mate to move again. “I will fill a report later,” you told them between pants.

“But I-,” they insisted.

It was enough. “SHUT UP!” You yelled at them as your lizard man stopped moving completely to glare at you, surprised. “Shut the fuck up and I will answer the questions, but you won’t be able to get any responses if you don’t shut up and let my mate fuck me senseless,” you let out between your teeth.

Said mate liked your outburst very much, soon grabbing your face forcefully to look at you. He started fucking you with intent then, the combination of his dicks inside of you driving you insane in a matter of seconds. He reached you neck and squeezed, feeling the vibrations of your moans against his hand and increasing his thrusts to make you lose your mind.

You felt something different this time, the tip of his scaled tail reaching around his body to rub against your clit. The textured surface made you see stars and the universe as he played with you in every way, taking your pleasure to the next level. It was exhilarating, your mouth open and your head thrown back as he fucked you like a machine.

He lowered his body, whispering against your ear: “Come for me, my mate, let me feel your holes milking me.” And like a good girl, you exploded into a million pieces as he growled over you and painted your insides with his cum.

This time around he didn’t stop, though. He kept fucking you for what felt like hours, probably were. You forgot everything about research and people watching, you forgot everything about your boss and the world. You could only focus on his dicks inside of you and his tail rubbing your clit until you came so many times that you had to ask for mercy, which he sweetly complied. He kissed your forehead and pulled out, leaving you messy and exhausted.

Once again you found yourself creampied in front of all your colleagues. Your job was suddenly a lot more interesting than two days ago.

[ddejavvu]

hmmm mean!logan who makes a GREAT brat tamer, who will give your ass a quick slap in public for embarrassing him or talking back to him and gets you over his lap the moment you’re alone to really let you have it

bro… I need a hard, firm hand to show me who’s boss lmao

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, mean!logan, spanking, brat taming, don't like don't read.

"I want some." You appeal to Logan one day, glancing at the rather intimidating drink in his hand. It's straight liquor, no sweet syrups or even ice to tamp down the effects. He drinks hard, something he's built a tolerance to over his long life, aided by his remarkable healing abilities. What he drinks makes your eyes water and your throat itch, but today you're feeling brave- perhaps from the drink in your own hand.

"No." He says simply, raising his glass to his lips and taking a hefty swig. It lowers the volume of liquor in the glass substantially, but he swallows it like it's water. You watch as the muscles in his neck contract slightly with the motion of his throat, and perhaps they tense at the sharp taste, but he remains mostly reactionless to the drink he's downing. You, however, would be tipping over.

"Come on, please? Just a little bit? I just want to try." You plead, bracing your hands on his arm in hopes that he'll take pity on you. But he doesn't, and all that's sent your way is a warning glance.

"Nothing bad's gonna happen." You insist, "If I get all loopy you can just take me home."

"I said no." His voice is gruff, and something indignant sparks in your chest. Fine. You're a grown woman- you can order one yourself. You've seen Logan order it a thousand times, you know it by heart and you'll pay for it yourself. He can't stop you.

You spin with a huff towards the bar, stalking towards the bartender with determination that Logan should be afraid of. Seconds before you can reach the bar, your fingertips inches away from the smooth, albeit sticky surface, Logan's hand grips your arm tight, and you feel a sharp, stinging sensation against your skin as he lands a harsh smack on your ass.

The slap is rough, tough, and forceful, just the way Logan manhandles you into the dingy hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It's cut off from the crowd but you can still hear the patrons inside, mere feet away as Logan's scowl bores down on you.

"What did I fucking say?"

"You said no, like you control me," You scoff, "You're not my dad! I'm well over 21, Logan, I can drink whatever I want!"

"Not when I plan on fucking you into the mattress tonight, stupid." He snarls, and your stomach flips with an intensity you know you'll be feeling all night long, "You don't think there's a reason I'm trying to keep you sober? Those fruity little drinks don't do shit that water can't fix. If you downed one of these you'd be sick for a week.”

"I thought-" You start, but he plows on, undeterred.

"You think I care what you drink? Knock yourself out, cowgirl," He snickers, his irritation gone but not forgotten as he condescends, "If you wanna shoot shit that'll make your head spin, then do it. But not tonight. I want you to remember my name so you can scream it."

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) - HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first 

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father 

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments 

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him 

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say 

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning 

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort 

Loves sleeping with you in his arms/on his laps, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep 

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep 

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or around your shoulders 

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance 

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)  

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him 

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy) 

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first 

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship 

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead 

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants  

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others 

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks) 

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling 

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive 

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices 

Loves taking naps with you 

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around 

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say he doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you) 

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self 

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly everyday during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for he reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who it was

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you 

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times 

Is a surprisingly good listener 

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?” 

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before 

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

Is secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better 

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path 

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know 

Possessive kisses 

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do 

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else 

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts 

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love” 

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you) 

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child) 

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think  

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy 

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive 

Loves getting you gifts 

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason 

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant 

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death 

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you 

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

Want to be tagged? Just use my Ask-Box and I'll gladly add you!

Masterlist

Next projects

[madamechrissy]

Kisses in the Dark

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Megumi Fushiguro x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ oral, masturbation, fingering, first time blow jobs, 69. Megs is a lil freaky but sweet. Reader is innocent and down bad for Megumi

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ this chap: 6.8k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ You have been in love with Megumi Fushiguro since middle school, but you, Nobara, Yuji and him are all best friends. You're such good friends you've lived together during college, and you're good at keeping it in, until one night he goes on a date. You end up hopeless, thinking of him, and your vibrator is broken too!! So you try to do things... yourself. Megumi thinks he hears you cry :'( And checks on you! Then decides to help you, as a friend? We'll see how that works!

A/N- first Megumi x reader! Three part story (tentatively- looking like this may be four parts now) lots of fluff, tension and smut, friends to lovers <3 (Gumi and reader are 20 in this)

Part one here Playlist for this

Part Two

Your date was sweet, and a gentleman, and…

Boring.

It was boring.

You’re quietly shutting and locking the door in the living room of your little apartment, taking your heels off your tired feet and sighing, walking towards your room down the hall. You hear something then, coming from none other than Megumi Fushiguro’s room, and you pause by his door.

Then you hear it, faint but distinct, moaning. You know what they sound like, he had made those noises so softly in your ear a few weeks ago. Your heart drops as you realize, he must have someone over, maybe that girl he’d gone on dates with? And you hadn’t even kissed this boy good night, he’d gone for it and you’d pecked his cheek instead.

You shouldn’t care if he has someone, right?

You all are only friends.

You should walk away, not agonize yourself, clearly Megumi had been interested in just having a little fun that night, it had gone completely back to normal after all. Now you are trembling, a hand raised to barely touch the cold wood of the door, trailing along the glossy white paint, as you hear it again. His moan.

He’s so sexy you think, as your eyes flutter shut and you exhale, imagining him pumping in and out of you, imagining tasting him, as someone surely was right now. You feel that tightening in your tummy as your desire takes a chokehold of you, as you imagine him, just there. He’s moaning again, soft sounds, and you realize you’ll have to take care of this situation in your room now.

You go to leave when you hear it, clear as day, your name.

Your name!?

From Megumi Fushiguro’s lips, you’re losing it aren’t you? Did that wine from dinner go to your head? Are you delusional? Megumi wouldn’t just moan your-

He does it again, and now you blink a bit in the dark hallway, and you curse yourself for this, but you’re turning the knob, finding it unlocked, and when you peek in you see him. His cock is in his hand, which is huge and long with a pretty pink tip you notice while blushing furiously. His eyes are affixed to something on his phone as he strokes it, from the base to the tip.

He says your name again, then when you walk in and close the door with a click he freezes, his dark green eyes locked on you in shock in the dim room. Nothing is lit but a line of LEDs behind his bed, emitting a soft purple glow in the night, as you lock it behind you, back pressed on it. He stops stroking, but he’s so in shock he doesn’t cover up.

“What the… what…are you!? Doing… what…” You tense now, slowly walking up to him, eyes feasting as you see his shirtless body, well muscled and cut, pale skin glowing in the dark night.

“I heard my name… I…l’m sorry, Gumi I should-” You turn to leave, shutting your eyes as those sexy images will be burned in your brain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t go.” His husky command makes you pause, when you turn toward him again, and he’s standing, his sweats pulled up now, walking to you. Your breath catches in your throat when he’s so close, you crank your neck back to look at him, at his pretty face in the night, so close you can feel his cool breath against your lips.

“I’m sorry this was… stupid I-”

“You wore the sweater?” He murmurs, and you look down, to where it’s still wrapped around your shoulders.

“Um… yeah. I did.”

Because it smells like you.

Because I’m hopeless for you.

Megumi eases it off your shoulders then, as his green gaze drinks you in lazily, his full lips parted just so, his hands brush your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. You feel your heart pounding nearly out of your chest now, as the big sweater lands on the floor with a soft thud, right around your bare feet. You look down just a bit at it.

“I’m sorry that you heard it.” He says then, and your eyes go wide as they meet his again, you shake your head fervently.

“What? No! I thought at first you had a girl here. I shouldn’t have listened.” You are overheated and flushed, so when his cool fingers touch your skin, you exhale, leaning your face into it. “It was so rude of me.”

“Were you just curious?” He asks softly, and you nod a bit, having so much trouble looking directly at him. You keep staring at those lips, the ones that agonize you with need.

“I guess after you pleasured me I really was curious about pleasing you back.” He blinks then, exhaling, his hands slide down the sides of your breasts, perking your nipples up. “Maybe I can… help? Like you helped me?”

“Ugh… you can’t just say things like that. Looking that way.” He whispers, and your lips purse curiously, making him roll his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I am not so innocent that I don’t want things. But I’ll be unable to do anything… Maybe you could show me? And I could help you feel good?” You touch his bare chest gently, making him tense under your touch, but you feel it, his own racing heart.

“How was your date? Huh?” You giggle at that.

“Now you’re asking me about my date?”

He glares now, his touches stopping for a moment, leaving you empty without his touch. “I am. How was it? Did you…”

“I didn’t kiss him.” You say softly, and you watch his eyes light up now, his hands clenching and unclenching in fists for a moment as he takes a breath.

“Why? Why didn’t you?”

“Um… I didn’t want to.” You’re rubbing one of your arms awkwardly, looking back at the door. “I should go, this was a dumb idea.”

“What do you want to learn?” His husky tone is your undoing, your throat goes dry with just how badly you want him right now.

“You’d teach me, Gumi?” You ask softly, stepping that one step closer, pressed against his hard body now. “As a friend hmm?”

His lips tense, and he’s touching your waist now, his big hands taking it over nearly, thumbs pressing up against your rib cage over the thin black dress. “I’ll eat your pussy as a friend.”

You whine, burying your face against his chest. “Gumi…”

“You’re so cute you know? Acting shy but… you just came here to ask to get me off?” Your hands splay the sides of his hard body, as his slip up your spine, sending shivers down your body. “You wanna cum again?”

“I want to make you cum. I want to make you feel good.” He moans softly, and that sound has you dripping against the black lace of your panties, far too fancy than what you’re used to. “What if you just teach me how? If the thought isn’t too…”

“I haven’t had a blow job.” You pause, looking up in surprise, and see the desire glimmering in his eyes, as he’s damn near holding you in the night, in his little room, all neat and perfect. “I told you I like to please. And… two girls. Not a lot of experience.”

“Oh, if it’s like special I won’t. I assumed…”

“I’d die if you did. I won’t make it.” You giggle up at him, but you just earn his glare, the same one like when you went on that date tonight. “You are bratty still.”

“Can you show me how to play with you then? And if you want more we can try that?”

“I’d rather you sit on my face.” Now you’re a puddle, a complete mess, as those images of something so naughty to you fill your head. “I’ll jerk off while you do. That way you can help.”

“Can we try both? I won’t learn that way.” You pout up at him, batting your eyelashes, and he sighs then, running a hand through spiky black hair.

“You really want me to be the first for that too though?” You nod eagerly, then when he sighs and nods back, you sink to your knees, making him panic, yanking you up then.

“Isn’t that how it’s done?” You ask curiously, and he is shaky as he pulls you over to the bed.

“Sure, but it seems… um… I’ll show you what I do, then you can try and see if you want it in your…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Mouth.”

“Okay. Should I… get undressed? Does that help make you cum?” You ask, and he laughs softly, swiping a hand down his face with an exhausted expression.

“You’re offering to suck me and get naked? I’m dreaming.”

“Why did you um… say my name?” Megumi looks away again, cheeks a bright red for a moment.

“I was remembering tasting you.” His hushed confession makes you throb around nothing now, your chest tight, you can barely breathe, like the room has become too small for you now.

“Y-you were?” He nods, his hands groping yours now, fingers entwined together, and Megumi is clearly embarrassed. But… “I was thinking of you that night.”

“What?!” You nod shyly. “You were?”

“Yes. I know it’s… awkward and weird to have. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Hey, look at me.” He tilts your chin up now. “It’s not bad to… imagine things. Is it?”

“No, it isn’t. Right?”

“Right. And… it’s normal, we’re living together…”

“Right! And now we were … you were…”

“I tasted you.” Fuck.

“Y-yes…” You stammer nervously, fiddling with the strings of his sweats. “And of course, I’m comfortable with you.”

“And I am with you. So this is just…” He trails off then.

“Just friends. That… help each other cum? Is that like… with benefits?”

“Like a friend bonus.”

“Right!”

“Right.” You both speak at the same time, then you both are breathing in quick little pants, as the silent room is filled by them, as your body is shivering, and Megumi’s hands are resting on your shoulders. “But you… I don’t think I should take your virginity.”

“Not as a friend?” You whisper, and he gulps visibly, shaking his head. “So just… other things?”

“Yes, we can do other things. As friends.”

“Like sucking you?”

“Jesus fucking…” He exhales now, grip on your shoulders tightening, looking at you with dark lashes lowered. “You just want to learn how?”

“Yes, please. I really want to. Um… it looks big though. I’m not sure how well I’ll do?” He’s blushing again, leading you to the bed with him now. “It also looks pretty?”

He sputters then, as he gently sits you on the bed, and sighs, cupping your face as he studies you. You hold your breath, enamored by his touch, his scent, how he feels, even his energy. It’s so easy to get lost in him.

“You’re so, so pretty. I should have told you before you left, I’m sorry.” He murmurs now, and you blink back emotion at that, your hands gripping his wrists gently as his thumbs brush your cheeks.

“Thank you, Gumi. That’s so sweet.”

“Looked so pretty I didn’t want you to go.” You gasp, and he’s sliding the straps of your dress down now, exhaling as he sees your lush breasts, about to spill out of your tight dress and low neckline. “Why didn’t you kiss him, really?”

“He was boring.”

He smirks then, looking down at you, from this angle his lean body looks even more cut, the shadows enhancing every line and curve. You trail your fingers down them, and watch his abdomen tense under the touch. “Am I boring?”

“No, Gumi, not at all. Did you um… kiss your date the other night?”

“I did kiss her. But… it was boring.”

You smile a bit, pecking a kiss on his abdomen now, right over his belly button, one of his hands slides to your hair, massaging it with long fingers, you sigh at how good it feels, your hands sliding to his thighs over soft gray sweats. Megumi stiffens just a bit at your kisses.

“Her kiss was boring?”

“It was.”

“Was my kiss boring?” Your thumbs hook in his elastic waistband, and he shakes his head quickly, pulling your hair so that your head tilts back, looking up at him.

“Your kiss was anything but boring. You’re… a very good kisser.” His voice drops an octave, as he’s sliding his hand and helping you shove off his sweats, and now his pretty cock is slapping his belly button, so long and thick, you notice sticky white beads on the tip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. If you’re okay with it?”

“Okay with it!? How about I’m dreaming right now.” You flush at that, then he takes your hand and guides it to his cock. You feel it, hot and hard in your palm now, and he hisses. “Fuck.”

“I already messed up!” You freak out then, and he shakes his head, placing his free hand on your shoulder to brace himself for a moment.

“It felt really good. Your um… hand is so soft.” He whispers, and you look curiously at his cock now, sliding your hand to the end of his shaft, thumb curiously pressing on that line on his tip. He groans now, as you smear the pre cum around it, and you look up at him hungrily, thighs shifting to create any friction there.

“Can I…” You dart your tongue across his tip, and he hisses, pulling at your hair hard. “Is that not okay?”

“It’s too good. I shouldn’t even get to have you like this, you’re too much of an angel.”

“Megumi…” You stroke back up to his tip again, making him moan softly now, his hands gently cupping your face again. “Should I put it in my mouth?”

“I’ll die.” You giggle up at his flustered expression, allowing you time to see just how pretty he was, his cock twitches in your delicate hold, pumping up and down softly, just feather light touches. Mehumi’s thumb brushes your lower lip. “Open your mouth, pretty.”

You’re soaked now, it’s hopeless.

You allow him to guide your mouth open, as one hand pumps him and the other is resting on the bed, gripping Megumi’s blankets, a soft tan suede. “Tongue out.” You do as he says, leaning forward more, your breasts nearly popping out of your undone dress, and his nostrils flare as he caresses your face, brushing your hair back.

It’s so intimate then, when he’s guiding his hard cock into your mouth, it’s not like what you’ve watched, he’s sweet and easy, staring right at your eyes as you take him in, as you taste him. His precum is so yummy you suck on it, and he moans, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment, grip tightening on your face. Seeing his face in pleasure makes your core tighten, burn with desire.

“Good girl. Feels s’good.” He whispers now, and you are feeling him swell as you wrap your lips around him, sucking gently. You pull back for a moment, and his eyes open, as his hands enwrap in your hair.

“You taste good, Megumi.” You whisper around his cock, and he groans, his hand shooting to the back of your head, pressing you down further, and you take him deeper into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat.

You’re loving how he’s gripping your hair, how he’s moaning your name, how he’s watching you, and you start to suck faster, bobbing your head and listening to his noises. The sound of your slurping him up intermingles with his sighs, his exhales, as he’s gently fucking into your mouth.

You choke a bit then and he pauses, pulling back and bending down, eyes filled with worry. But they're also dilated and nearly black. “I hurt you!?”

“No, no, I'm good! It just um… hit a spot.” You can hardly speak of such things looking at him.

“I pushed in too deep. Are you okay?”

“I'm so good. It's really um… I like it too much.” He raises a brow, that little smirk on his face now.

“Do you?”

“Should I show you how much?” He nods then and you take his hand, kissing the backs of elegant fingers as you slide up your dress, and guide his hand up. He eagerly finds you then, sucking in a breath as his eyes shoot up to yours.

“You're that wet from sucking me?” His voice is full of wonder, as his fingers rub you over your panties, making you whine out at how much you crave him, nodding weakly, head falling back when he presses up on your little clit over the lace. “I wonder what panties you wore for this date.”

“Wha-mnh!” He's got your dress unzipped now, and he bares you to him, eyes feasting on your breasts, then trailing down. He glares now.

“You wore these for this date?” You shrug, looking down at them.

“Well I thought… I don't know. I can't stay alone and a virgin forever. I guess I prepped? Nobara said I should.”

He grips your hips tightly, pressing his fingers into your flesh, making you wince just a bit. “Did you want him to?”

“I've never wanted anyone to. But you.”

He grabs you then, picking you up and shoving you down on the bed, shocking you with the quick movement, laying on top of you, his hard length hot on your thigh. You're breathless from the quick motion, struggling to breathe under him. Your shaky hands go to his shoulders, eyes wide on his now.

“What's wrong, Gumi? Is that too much to say…”

“I'm mad you wore them. I'm mad you looked so beautiful for him tonight.”

“Gumi…”

“I'm mad I was looking at pictures of you in your bathing suit, picturing you, remembering your taste.”

His words kill you, now you're just whimpering, hips arching up, begging for him. “I didn't want him. I'm mad I don't. I'm mad I keep thinking about that night, when you're totally fine.”

He scoffs, hands sliding down your thighs, lifting them, and pressing one of his thighs between yours, making you cry out at the sensation. “Tch, you think I'm fine?” You just nod, and he grimaces. “I guess I am good at seeming that way.”

“So you liked it too? You didn't wish we hadn't?”

“Liked it? Liked it? No.” You blink in confusion and then he's hovering just over your lips. “I can't get your moans put of my head. Those little sounds you make. How your brow furrows, how your cheeks flush…” You're grinding on his thigh then, and slender leg pressing up, and his jaw tenses. “You're all I can think of. Now I'll have to remember you sucking me. No hope.”

“But you want to be friends?”

“I don't want to lose you in my life. What if i… hurt you?”

“So we stay friends?” He nods, jerky, gulping then. You both are breathless as he hovers over you.

“Best friends.”

“The best. Um… I'll go-”

Megumi shocks you by grabbing your wrists, shoving them over your head, pinning you to the bed with his weight. You whine out, and he groans then, lips just a breath away, noses touching.

“Kiss me, Megumi… please.” At your little plea he slams his lips down on yours, and those tingles shoot through your lips again, as his skin presses against yours, and his hands grip your breasts, making your nipples pebble against his palms.

He tastes so sweet, something minty and something just Megumi, burning your lips as his tongue swirls against yours, drinking in your little cries. Your teeth click as the kiss grows more desperate, as you feel him pressing that leg up even more, and you’re shamelessly grinding against it, trembling with need. A need that consumes you, that takes over your senses.

Best friend.

He’s your friend.

Right?

Megumi’s kissing down your throat now, lips making a hot, sticky trail of kisses and bites, little strings of saliva leaving his perfect lips as he peers up at you, through those lidded eyes. You whine out, your hands gripping his spiky hair, back arching so that he has easy access to your breasts. He starts sucking on them, biting your skin, and when he gets to your nipple you cry out.

“Shh, angel.” He huffs, reaching a hand up to put on your mouth, and you nod then, eyes rolling back as he’s kissing around one areola, before sucking the peak into his hot mouth. It feels so good as he’s nipping it with sharp teeth, and you’re making his thigh completely soaked.

“Gumi…” You whisper, quietly crying out, biting your fist now to stay silent as his other hand is sliding down your soft tummy, it’s trembling under his touch. His moan tickles your sensitive nipple as he pulls back with a pop, peering up at you.

The sight of his elegant fingers gripping a hold of one of your breasts is too much, the sight of his glossy lips parted, his little breaths that come out in pants. You gulp, your throat dry, Megumi’s grip tightens when he removes his thigh, looking down, and you see his bare leg is covered in your slick.

“I’m so sorry, that’s so…”

“Shh.” He’s rubbing you now, studying you as he’s rubbing over those panties, the ones sticking to you, drenched fabric that has your sticky arousal all over it. You whimper pathetically, your eyelashes fluttering, teeth biting your lower lip at the pleasure he brings from a simple touch. “You get so wet.”

He yanks down your panties then, peeling them off you, your knees are knocking as your legs shake, as he’s drinking in you fully naked, running his hands down your entire body then, like an artist with a paint brush. So delicate, over every curve, every line you have, and your breasts are heaving with your nervous breaths come faster with every stroke like a paint brush over your skin.

“You’re beautiful.” You blink back heavy emotion now, your hands nervously running back down his body.

“You make me feel that way by looking at me like that.” Your eyes lock again, his hands pausing their movements, resting on your hips now. “Megumi… I wanted to suck you, remember?”

“I want you on my tongue.” Your mouth drops open at just how sensual he is, kissing you once more, and you’re eagerly grinding, now completely naked when he’s sinking two fingers in you. “You’re so tight… you…”

“Megumi, please. Please.” He smirks a little as he pulls back, those dark green eyes glinting, pecking a little kiss on your cheeks with those full lips, sinking two fingers deeper and curling them. You are blinded as he hits that spot with ease, as he’s pressing it over and over. “Please!”

“Shh, so loud, aren’t you?” He taunts, and you just gasp as the pleasure is overwhelming, and your hands slide down his rib cage, fingers pressing in.

“Please, Megumi… in me. Want you in me.” He falters then, the smirk gone for a moment, and he shakes his head, some hair loosely falling over his forehead.

“No, we can’t do that. It should be special.”

It would be, stupid boy.

I love you, idiot.

“Then… ngh… lemme suck you. You- ah- liked it.” He chuckles a bit, vibrating your chest as he leans down, the mirth back in his gaze.

“So eager to have me in your throat? Though you were my angel.”

“Not… thinking… angelic- ah- thoughts!” He’s making you cum, goddammit, you’re gushing all over his fingers and down his hand, and his jaw is locked now, you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. “Lemme… suck… you… Megumi!”

“Shh, angel, you’ll wake them up.”

“Then shut me up.” He blinks then, and glares a bit, earning your smile, but soon he has you flipped on top of him, your thighs are straddling him for a moment, and you move to grind on him but he’s turning you. “Megumi, wha-”

“Sit on my face.”

Well fuck.

“Megumi!”

“C’mere.” He’s got your thighs on either side of his head, his hot breath tickling your entrance, your hips buck at it, his hands are gripping your inner thighs, shoving them further apart. “There we go. Good girl.”

“You can’t say shit like that and be… my… friend! Ngh!” You’re crying out, head falling as your hands brace on either side of his torso when he’s buried his nose against you, inhaling you.

“Smell s’good. Taste s’sweet.” He is kissing you there, and you’re dripping onto Megumi Fushiguro’s pretty face, turning to see him hard and insistent now, his hips grind up and you lean up on one arm, hand reaching down to stroke him. He groans against you, vibrating on your clit as he’s sucking it in his mouth.

“Ah! Oh my!” Megumi smacks your butt then, shocking you, as he lifts your hips for a moment.

“Shut that pretty mouth.” He’s leaning up again, and you eagerly suck him into your mouth, making him grip you so tightly it’s bruising, sighing against your eager, soppy little cunt. “Good girl, there. Just like that.”

He’s urging you on as you suck him, in this position he seems to go easier down your throat, and he’s back to lavishing your pussy with his talented tongue. It feels so fucking good, as you’re working his length up and down, feeling his cock pulse in your mouth, feeling his hotness, his taste, his everything.

You're shaking now, feeling him thickening even more, your throat tightening around him, your mouth is full, so full of him as he’s pulling you down onto his mouth greddily, tongue devouring every inch, drinking up all the arousal pouring. You cry out around his length, rocking on him and pressing further down.

“Fuck my face, just like that angel. Doing such a good job.”

“Fuck!” You pull back to whine out now, as he’s moving your hips again. “Are you okay down there!?”

“Suffocate me.”

This boy…

“Gumi… cumming!” You whisper, and he groans, as you lick the precum pouring from his pretty tip, and he’s spreading your lips even wider, flicking the underside of your clit with the tip of his tongue. You bite back a scream, damn near convulsing over him now.

“Cum, then.”

Did he have to keep saying shit like this!?

So you are cumming, your body is just pulsing everywhere as it washes through you, and he's swirling his tongue around your clit as you’re shattering over him, pussy throbbing around nothing, pouring all over him, so messy. You cum so hard it’s embarrassing. You're shaking all over, gripping his cock tightly, lavishing a messy open mouthed kiss on his length.

“Megumi!” You’re so sensitive as he’s licking you through your orgasm, one of your hands is digging into his thighs, nails leaving crescent marks on pale skin, his cock jumps as you suck on the tip again, moaning around it.

“I could do this all day, fuck.” He huffs, leaning back and taking a breath that you feel puff against you, sliding his finger down your slit. “Your mouth feels so good… mmm yes, focus up there.”

“Here?” You suck right on the underside of his tip, and he hisses, spreading your messy wetness up and around your entrance now.

“There, there… you sure you havent!?”

“Absolutely sure. I’m doing good?”

“Killing me.” He nips on one of your puffy lips, making you shiver as he does, and you suck him further down your throat, going as far as you can until he’s choking you, and he’s pumping his hips up. You feel his silky hair against your inner thighs, his hands digging into your skin. “Angel, I’m close.”

“Good.” You say between thrusts in your mouth, pulling back for a moment.

“No, don’t wanna… cum in your…”

“I want to taste it.”

Fuck, why do you have to say those things, act this way? As your arousal is dripping out of your tiny little hole, and he’s lapping it up like honey, your hot mouth sucking his cock in, and fuck it feels so good, Megumi has never felt anything like it. You’re consuming him, as your thighs clench either side of his head, as your lush breasts press on his abdomen.

As your little pink tongue is sliding up the underside of his leaky tip, the one that just hit your uvula, his cock jerks at the sensation.

“You want to swallow, angel? You sure?” He asks, and you nod eagerly, he peers down at you as he tilts to the side, your hair is tickling his thighs, falling like a curtain over him as you stare at his cock, and he hears your little sext sounds. You make these sounds from the back of your throat he can’t handle.

Fuck he wants to slide into this perfect cunt.

You begged him to, but how can he? He’s already gone so far, and to lose you makes his chest tighten in fear. But now that he’s had you like this, now that he’s felt you like this? Now that you’ve cum all over his face, now that you’re sucking his cock deep in that tight throat…

You’ve ended him.

“Please cum in my mouth. I can do it.” You hear him curse under you, it is tickling you, as you brace yourself on his thighs now, shoving your hips back. “I’ll cum with you, if you want.”

“If I want!? Jesus fucking… okay but if you don’t like it just pull back.”

“I’ll like it.”

“Cum with me then. Bring this pretty pussy back on my mouth.” He’s shoving you back down again, and now he’s fucking you with his tongue, in and out of your entrance, as his chin shoves against your little clit, making it twitch as you’re cunt tightens around the wet muscle of his tongue.

“Gumi! I… oh my! I…”

“Shh.” He shoves his hips up, plunging his cock in your mouth, and now the room is crackling with energy, with desire, filled with your moans, as you’re grinding your sweaty body against his own, they’re slick as you’re grinding over him, as he’s gripping your ass and fucking you so good you can’t take it.

You’re cumming all over his face again, this time even harder, so hard you feel weak and spent, your eyes rolling back in your head as you breathe through your nose. Your cheeks hollow as you suck him harder, feeling him impossibly thicken, and then he freezes his thrusts, and they get jerky, and you feel him cry out desperately against your soppy cunt.

He’s pulsing in your mouth, and you start to feel him cumming, spurting hot liquid, runny and sticky, salty tasting almost, down your throat. You pull back just a bit as you start swallowing it, as it’s coming in bursts and strings, and you feel his mouth stop moving as he rides out his own climax.

He pulls back, groaning so loud, head falling back on the pillow as his hands glide down the outsides of your thighs and you’re swallowing him up. Finally his movements cease, but you’re still sucking him off, swirling your tongue around him, hearing him cry out, kissing your cunt with sloppy kisses.

“F-fuck… sensitive… angel…”

“You made me sensitive.” You tease, pecking a kiss on his tip finally, it’s softened just a bit now, and he laps up more of your own cum, making you squeal and wriggle, as he pins your hips down.

“Teasing me huh?” You giggle breathlessly, but it dies when he’s humming on your clit once more, and you bury your face against his abdomen, screaming out as you cum one more time, and this time it almost hurts you’re so sensitive.

You feel his chuckle, as he taps you a bit then, helping you up, but planting kisses on your ass, your thighs as he does. “Gumi I’m jello.”

He is smirking at you when he spins you back around, and you catch yourself with your hands on either side of his face, straddling his torso now. You both laugh a bit, flushed faces and drunken eyes, one of his hands brushes your hair behind your ear, tucking it back as the rest falls loosely.

You both don’t speak then, not when he feels the heat of your pussy against his belly button, not when you feel his heart thudding under your breasts, not when you both are just breathing, staring at each other. It’s silent, as you all kiss then, kissing in the dark just like before.

“So… do we do this all the time, if we’re friends with…”

“If you want.”

“I want… do you?”

“You have to ask?” He presses up and you flush as you realize he’s hard again. “Of course I’d like that. But… if you get serious with someone, then we should stop.”

“Yes, exactly, we’ll stop if either of us do.”

“And no fucking.”

You pout and he’s chuckling. “None at all?”

“No, you deserve a special first time.” His words make you ache, your heart crushed, as you ache to say it.

I love you Megumi.

But you don’t, you can’t, can you?

“Can we kiss again?” You ask, and he nods, then you’re kissing his soft lips, tasting yourself on them, as he tastes you, and soon it’s heated again, like a force neither of you can stop, until he pulls back, breathless. “Sorry. Carried away.”

“Stop apologizing. Not even mad you were being a perv and came in.” You scowl, earning his grin, white in the night, so rare that you see him grin like that, and not just an upturn of his lips.

He’s breathtaking like this, under you.

“You did it first.”

“I was worried, you were being perverted.”

“Me!? Mister ‘I’ll show you how’ uh-huh.”

His eyes narrow, lips pursing. “Brat.”

You stick your tongue out, earning a little smack, then you sigh when you see just how late it is over on the little clock but Megumi’s bed. “I should let you get some rest. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Was worth it.” You heat up at his tone, at his praise. “I’ll eat you out every day.”

“You liked that blow job don’t lie.”

It’s his turn to blush, as he sits up, still holding you, and you imagine for a moment how good it would feel to sleep in his arms. You shake that thought away, along with the thought of how good his cock would feel, how big it is, how full it would make you. You can’t stop the little whine that escapes you again.

“Sore or anything? I wasn’t so gentle with my fingers this time.”

“Oh, no I liked it. Don’t worry. A lot.” You look down, and he’s easing you off him, hopping off the bed and picking up your dress. He helps slide it over you, the silk flitting over your overheated skin, zipping you up carefully before sliding on his sweats. “My panties are ruined.”

His lips quirk up, as the hollows of his cheeks have shadows from the night, just enhancing the lazy beauty of his face, and you can’t stop yourself from falling even harder for him. It grabs ahold of you when he helps you to stand, on wobbly legs, and his eyes rake over your form.

“Can’t walk?”

“I sure can, jerk!” You shove at him, but then you wobble and he has to hold you, his breath against your cheek. You peer up at him then. “You think it’s funny.”

“It’s just cute.” He taps your nose, and there’s too much left lingering between you now, too much unsaid that you can’t bring yourself to speak on. “So is this what we do now, barge into each other’s rooms?”

“We’ll see I guess, hmm? Maybe the next date will be good.” He glares now, and you enjoy it, enjoy him feeling jealous, it makes you feel so much, you can’t explain. You peck a kiss on his cheek then. “Night, Gumi.”

“Yeah, yeah. G’night.”

One week later

“You sure you don’t wanna watch the zombie marathon you two!?” Yuji asks, his light brown eyes wide as his lip trembles.

“Nope.” You say.

“Nah.” Megumi says.

“Nobara, pwease!” He’s on his knees, and she rolls her eyes then, shoving at him.

“No way!” She huffs, and Megumi sips on his soda, smirking at them, before his eyes land on you, and it changes. His look, his gaze, wanton and lustful.

You all had not spoken of what happened again, though things were different. In the morning as you brushed your teeth, he would press against your back just so, and he’d brush your hair for you, looking at you in that mirror, tall over you, behind you. He’d brush his hand on your waist if you passed in the hallway, press on the small of your back as you would walk past.

Little touches, eager touches.

It was like the boy knew how to torture you. And he was just waiting, waiting for you to cave, to ask, but you were trying to stand firm, as much as you desire him, you don’t know how much control you have, how much you just… want him. Need him. As more than he was.

But your resolve was wearing low, and even his presence had you hopelessly pulsing inside your constantly eager pussy, which now was donned in lacy crotchless panties. Yeah, you were hoping that maybe he’d get the hint if you bent over in those at some point, it was kind of a tease move, but you weren’t good at chess like Megumi.

God even now how he’s just licking that soda off his lip?

Fuck.

“Oh fine, I’ll go, if you buy me whatever I want at the mall.” You struggle to focus, and look over at Yuji, who’s hugging her so tightly she’s choking. “Off!”

“Yay!” He exclaims happily, and you all laugh as they get ready to go.

Once you and Megumi are… completely alone, which doesn’t happen often, you try to play it cool, taking several breaths. You’re popping on some music, and starting to figure out what to make for dinner, bending down to look at what you have in the fridge. When you stand up and turn, you see Megumi there, his head tilted to the side.

“Megumi Fushiguro, were you staring at my butt!” You shove playfully, and he just comes closer, gaze raking over every curve you have.

“I saw your panties.”

You’re blushing so hard, looking down at your skirt. “Perv!”

“Me huh? You’re wearing those and bending over around me?” He shoves the fridge door shut, then you’re pressed against it, cool metal on your skin making you shiver as you look up, caged between two lithe, strong arms.

“What, you think they’re cute?” You tease him, and his lips part, his hands clenching to fists on either side of you.

“You wear them for me?”

“No, Megumi, for the ghost of the apartment.”

“You’re extra bratty. Didn’t cum enough angel?” His hand reaches right between your thighs, cupping you then, and your eyes shut, your hands gripping his soft white tee shirt, as you cry out. “Answer me.”

“Yes, for you Gumi… who else? You liked the black ones…

“I’ll get a good look.” He’s on his knees suddenly, and looking up your skirt, you lift it up so he gets a view, of crotchless dark blue panties, his breath is hot against your inner thigh as he looks up at you hungrily, long lashes casting shadows under his eyes, which had dark circles under them.

You grip his shoulders nervously now, letting your skirt fall, for him to shove it back up, bunching it around your hips. “You like them?”

“They’re slutty.” You blink at that, at his possessive tone. “Better not wear them anywhere but here.” You raise a brow then, smiling softly.

“Oh but we’re friends, right? So…”

“Nowhere else.”

“Megumi- ah!”

He’s swiping his tongue up your slit now, and you can’t take it, you just can’t… you need him, need him so bad. He’s spreading the lips of your sex, pulling your thigh over his shoulder then, swiping up even deeper, looking up at you as he does. Drinking you up right in the kitchen, under your skirt, against the fridge.

Megumi Fushiguro.

Your… friend?

This may be more chaps then I thought lol. Hope you all enjoy!!

[kianamaiart]

Hello your magical girl story looks really intriguing, the premise feels very creative, the art style is simple but good with its own identity, and the characters seem to be fleshed out with depth, personality, and backstory. In short, I love it, and I do have a few questions.

One: Is the story character driven, story driven, or something else

Two: Is the story rated G, PG, PG-13, or something else

Three: Would the story be a web comic, web show, or something else

Four: Will there be a lot of lore and world building, yes or no

Five: what other inspirations did you have for the story's characters, plot, and art style

Six: What humor do you use for the story

I'm only asking these questions out of curiosity. This is just because I love your story, and would like to know more about.

So please be free to not answer all the questions if you want. I'm also fine if you ignore this ask. so please, no pressure.

At the end of the day, please have fun, relax, work hard, take your time, and have a nice day.

I'm so glad! Thanks so much for your interest <3

Character driven (always)

PG/PG-13

Dunno! I've been reached out to already for a few opportunities but right now, I'm just trying to have fun with it and keep it mine until I feel like the idea is fully realized and ready for something bigger. Right now, I'm shooting to make a lil pilot animatic mostly on my own with help from a few friends

Depends on what you mean by a lot but I'd say a soft yes

For Aika, just generally other anime protagonists from shoujo and shonen. I feel like when you're doing a spin on something you do have to rely on the tropes from the genre at least a little bit. For Zira, Toko Fukawa was the jumping off point but they're very different. They're also both based off of aspects of myself (I feel like most artists do this with their ocs tho). Style and story-wise, I was definitely looking at Doremi and Panty&Stocking. That chunky cute look that's distinctly anime but takes some notes from Western cartoons. But mine's flipped where it's more based on my own style from working in Western animation but then having anime influence. And story-wise I like how they're more episodic with an underlying story. The magical girl stuff is more a backdrop that helps the story move forward and enhances the slice of life stuff that's being focused on.

I'm not sure what kind of humor to say other than my own? But my sense of humor has been shaped by Big City Greens (obviously) Adventure Time, Jimmy Neutron, Bob's Burgers, Smiling Friends and many other things but hopefully that gives you the gist

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Nothing

Summary: Mornings were Logan's favorite part of the day.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i came up with this idea yesterday when i took a nap instead of writing an essay for my energy policy class. this is my first time writing smut for logan so any critiques are welcome!

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, porn with no plot, pet names (baby, sweetheart), unprotected piv, creampie, not proofread

You were like a cat, practically purring into his neck as you slept peacefully, your arm around his chest and your leg hoisted around his stomach.

But Logan wouldn’t trade it for anything, not when he could watch your chest rise and fall steadily, your bare body pressed up against his own.

Logan’s arm tightened around your waist, the weight of you grounding him. He loved the way your breath hitched when he shifted, your skin pressed flush against his. "Mm, baby," his voice came out low, almost a growl, lips brushing against your forehead. His fingers grazed your bare hip, pulling you tighter against his side.

Your leg slipped further up his body, your thigh brushing his stomach, every part of you tangled with him. His chest rumbled, the warmth of your skin driving him wild. He couldn't help but dip his head, nuzzling the soft spot just beneath your ear, breathing you in, "Can’t get enough of you like this," he murmured, his hand roaming down your spine.

A sleepy smile tugged at your lips as you shifted, nuzzling closer into his neck, the feeling of his stubble grazing your cheek sending shivers down your body. The heat of the morning sun was nothing compared to the heat between the two of you, the sheets a tangled mess beneath you both, the air thick with something else entirely.

Logan’s rough hand slid lower, finding the curve of your ass, fingers splaying across the soft flesh. "Always gotta be all over me, don’t you, sweetheart?" His voice was thick with need, each word a low, gravelly tease as he squeezed, hard enough to make you hum softly into his neck. He loved the way you responded to his touch, every sound you made driving him deeper into the moment.

You shifted again, your hips rolling instinctively against him, and that was it. Logan’s breath hitched, his cock stirring against your thigh. He let out a quiet grunt, rough fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing your skin with lazy circles. "You keep that up, baby," he warned, voice darker now, more possessive, "and I’m not gonna be able to hold back."

Your eyes flickered open just a bit, catching the hungry look in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched as he gripped your ass harder. You couldn’t help but smile, that playful, knowing smirk. You knew exactly what you were doing. And so did he.

Logan groaned, his hand slipping between your legs, fingers brushing the heat between your thighs. "Fuck, you're soaked," he rasped, fingers gliding over your folds, teasing you just enough to make you squirm. "Needy already, huh? Such a good girl for me."

You whined softly, your hips pushing back against his hand, desperate for more. But Logan wasn’t about to let you have it that easy. He kept his touch feather-light, teasing, dragging his fingers over you just enough to drive you insane.

Logan’s fingers teased along your wet folds, barely brushing the surface, just enough to make you whine again, hips rolling forward, desperate for more than just a teasing touch. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, voice a gravelly rasp that sent shivers down your spine. His breath, hot and thick against your ear, only added to the tension building between your legs.

You pressed yourself harder against his hand, a soft, pleading moan slipping from your lips. "Logan," you whispered, the word coming out like a prayer, breathless, full of need. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your neck as he nuzzled deeper into the crook, stubble scraping your skin in that way that always drove you wild.

"Patience, sweetheart," Logan muttered, his fingers finally dipping between your slick folds, parting them with agonizing slowness. His touch was firm, yet still teasing, fingers gliding through your wetness, but never quite giving you the pressure you were aching for. His thumb circled your clit, slow, lazy movements that had you squirming in his arms, a quiet whimper escaping your throat.

You gasped, grinding against him, desperate for more friction, more anything. His body was a solid, immovable wall, warm and grounding, but that teasing hand had you on edge. "Fuck, Lo," you moaned, barely able to keep still, your hips rocking against his touch. Logan’s other arm tightened around you, holding you in place, his lips grazing your ear.

"That’s it. Keep making those sweet little noises for me," he growled, fingers sliding down to circle your entrance, teasing just enough to have your breath hitching. He pressed the tip of one finger inside you, just enough to feel how wet you were for him. "So fucking wet already," he murmured, his lips pressing against your neck, teeth grazing lightly. "You want it bad, don’t you?"

You nodded frantically, the need building in your core, hips pushing back against him. His finger slid in deeper, slow and deliberate, making you squirm even more. "God, Logan, please," you begged, your voice thick with desperation, body trembling with want. You could feel his cock pressing against your thigh, throbbing with need just like you.

He chuckled again, low and dark, before adding a second finger, curling them inside you, finally giving you that delicious pressure you’d been craving. Your back arched, a moan ripping from your throat as your walls clenched around his fingers. "There you go," he muttered, his voice rough as gravel. "Take what you need, baby."

You were a mess, grinding against his hand, your body moving on instinct. His fingers moved faster now, pumping in and out of you, slick and wet, the sound filling the room. His thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you gasping, your body tensing as you climbed higher, faster.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hips rocked against you, his hard cock pressing insistently against your thigh. "Gonna make you come all over my fingers before I even think about giving you anything more."

The knot in your stomach tightened, your entire body trembling, on the edge, so fucking close. Logan knew exactly what he was doing, his fingers curling just right inside you, his thumb relentless on your clit, pushing you closer and closer. "Come on, baby," he urged, his voice dark and commanding. "I want to feel you come for me."

His words sent you over the edge, your body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through you, a cry spilling from your lips. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your hips bucking against his hand as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Logan didn’t stop, his fingers still working you through it, prolonging the sensation, his other arm holding you tight against him as you rode out the high. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling, oversensitive and overstimulated, but still craving more. You wanted him.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he muttered, pulling his fingers out of you, wet and glistening. He brought them up to your lips, brushing them against your mouth, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Taste yourself," he growled softly.

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth, sucking his fingers in, tasting your own slickness on his skin. Logan groaned, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you, the heat between you both palpable. His fingers slid from your lips with a wet pop, leaving your mouth craving more.

Before you could even catch your breath, Logan shifted, rolling you onto your back with ease, his weight pressing you into the sheets. His body hovered over yours, his chest brushing against your breasts as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, hungry kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting, claiming, while his hand trailed down your side, fingers tracing the curve of your waist.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slipped lower, finding your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist. The pressure of his hips settled between your legs, his hard cock brushing against your soaked entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

Logan moved slowly, his hips rocking just enough for you to feel the length of him dragging against your folds, the friction making you gasp, your hands clenching in the sheets. "Shit, baby, you’re dripping for me," he growled, his voice thick with need, as he ground his hips harder, the tip of his cock pressing lightly against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

You bucked your hips, desperate for more, your body aching for him to fill you. "Please, Lo," you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. "Need you inside me."

A low, feral groan rumbled from his chest as he nudged your legs wider, positioning himself at your entrance. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that made your heart race. Slowly, torturously, he pushed in, stretching you inch by inch, filling you completely. The sensation of him inside you, thick and hot, made your head spin, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Fuck," Logan hissed, his jaw clenched as he buried himself to the hilt, his body still for a moment as he savored the feel of you wrapped tight around him. "You feel so fucking good, sweetheart." His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the rhythm steady but deliberate.

You moaned softly, your hands sliding up his back, nails dragging across his skin as he set a slow, sensual pace, his cock gliding in and out of you with maddening precision. "Logan," you gasped, your back arching off the bed, the pleasure building steadily with each thrust. "Fuck... that feels so good."

Logan's mouth found your neck, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his teeth grazing your pulse. "I know, baby," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as his hips rocked into you, deep and slow, every movement calculated to drive you insane. His hands roamed over your body, fingers squeezing your ass as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your toes curl.

Your breath hitched, a broken moan slipping from your lips as you wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer, needing more. Logan growled low in his throat, his thrusts becoming more insistent, his cock driving into you harder, deeper, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he groaned, his voice rough and thick with desire. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you gasping, your hips grinding against his, desperate for more friction. "Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his thrusts growing rougher, faster. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

You could barely breathe, the pleasure building to a fever pitch, every nerve in your body on fire as his fingers worked your clit, his cock pounding into you with just the right rhythm. It was too much, the heat, the pressure, his low growls in your ear driving you over the edge. With a strangled cry, your body tensed, your walls clenching around him as the orgasm ripped through you, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

"Fuck, yes," Logan groaned, his pace faltering as he felt you tighten around him, his cock twitching inside you. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep, his body shaking as his release hit, spilling inside you with a low, guttural moan. He held you tight, his breath ragged against your neck, his body trembling with the aftershocks.

For a long moment, the only sound was your mingled breathing, bodies entwined, his weight a comforting pressure holding you to the bed. Logan's lips hovered over yours, brushing them softly, like a lingering promise. His rough fingers skimmed along your side, tracing the dips of your waist, as if savoring the way your body still hummed from the intensity.

He shifted beside you, the warm length of him pressing into your skin, a quiet rumble in his chest as he nuzzled your neck again, his stubble scraping against your pulse. "Still with me, sweetheart?" Logan's voice was low, teasing, his mouth ghosting over your jawline. The rasp of his tone sent another shiver down your spine, even though your body was still heavy from release.

"Mmhmm," you murmured, barely able to form a coherent word, your breath catching as his lips trailed lower, grazing the soft skin just under your ear. Logan chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin, as his hand slid down, resting on your thigh, fingers splayed out across your skin.

He pulled back enough to meet your eyes, the intensity in his gaze making your pulse quicken again. His thumb rubbed absentminded circles into your skin, like he needed the physical connection just as much as you did. "You really wore me out this time," he teased, smirking that cocky grin of his, though the hunger in his eyes hadn’t fully faded.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging him back down toward you. "Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of it," you shot back, breathless but smiling.

Logan chuckled, low and deep, dipping down to kiss you again, slow and deliberate, savoring the way your lips felt against his. "Damn right," he muttered between kisses. "Could stay like this forever."

For a moment, the world outside the room felt distant, forgotten, the only thing that mattered was the heat between your bodies, the steady rhythm of your breaths, and the soft warmth of the tangled sheets beneath you. Logan's fingers skimmed your hip, then slipped around to cup your ass, squeezing gently, making you hum softly in response.

"You're a handful, you know that?" His voice was thick with affection, despite the rough edge to it.

"Mm, you love it," you teased, a grin tugging at your lips as your fingers traced the hard lines of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I do," he growled, his lips pressing harder against yours. "Too much sometimes." His breath fanned across your face as he spoke, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, matching your own.

Logan's hand slid up your back, pulling you closer to him, his chest warm and solid against yours. For once, the urgency had faded, replaced with something slower, deeper—like he didn’t want to let go of this moment, this feeling. "You good?" he asked, voice quieter now, more tender.

You nodded, resting your forehead against his, your hands curling around his arms, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go. "Yeah," you whispered, feeling the weight of the day melt away with him there beside you.

"Good," he murmured, kissing the top of your head, the gentleness of the gesture at odds with the wild, raw passion from earlier. But that was Logan- rough and intense, but capable of surprising softness when it came to you.

His hand settled on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him again as he let out a long, contented sigh. The steady rise and fall of his chest was soothing, grounding, as you drifted into the comfort of the moment, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield from the world outside.

"Stay here," he rumbled, his voice barely more than a growl, but there was something deeper in his tone, something protective.

You smiled softly against his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin. "Always."

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: your boyfriend comes to pick you after a long day at uni. sensing your jealousy about the attention he’s getting from your classmates, he makes it up to you in his own way.

tags. olderbf!gojo x female reader. fluff, tiny bit of angst, suggestive [make out sesh]. age gap — reader above 20, gojo early 30’s. jealousy. reader gets called ‘princess, baby, beautiful.’ not proof read !

satoru’s arrival, as per usual, serves as pure entertainment for many students. it’s not often that they get to see such a tall and handsome man around campus after all.

you patiently stand there, waiting for that said man to come and get you. the increase in giggles and whispers around you can only mean one thing: he’s nearby.

your boyfriend’s car comes to a stop in the distance. satoru steps out of the driver’s seat a second later, one of his hands running through his fluffy, snowy hair.

‘. . damn, he’s fucking hot,’ ‘yep. heard he’s in a relationship though. sucks,’ ‘girl— do i look like i care? need him so baaaaddd.’

it’s infuriating to hear those words while you - his girlfriend - are standing close to them. you decide not to give those girls any attention nor do you try to speak up. it’s not worth the effort.

satoru closes the car door behind him, his hands in the pockets of his slacks while he strolls up to where you’re standing. it’s as if he’s walking down a runway - graceful, confident, every step executed with perfect balance.

he can hear the murmurs from the students around, but he simply does not care. his steady gaze has been fixed on you the moment he spotted your figure from across campus.

“cute,” satoru mutters under his breath with a small smile, blue eyes taking in the sight of you standing there against a wall. the way you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag while pretending not to have noticed him is quite endearing.

you look down at the ground until a pair of black oxfords come into view, stopping right in front of yours. you slowly tilt your head back until you’re face to face with the man himself.

“hey, beautiful,” satoru greets, his voice smooth and slightly deep, a faint smirk playing on his lips. his knuckles brush against your cheek whilst he admires your every feature, acting as if he hasn’t seen you in days.

you nod in response, whispering a small ‘hi’ before your eyes dart around campus again. your bottom lip pushes forward just a tiny bit to form a small pout.

. . and there it is; satoru knows that look in your eyes like the back of his hand. he’s seen that same pout before, along with the hint of jealousy lurking behind your gaze that you try so hard to hide.

he understands why you’re feeling that way.

the other girls on campus, the way they ogle him and whisper, it would make any woman insecure. but to him, there was no need for that. satoru is yours, and he’s made that known to every single soul around you a million times before.

perhaps they need to be reminded once more.

satoru wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his touch gentle and possessive. he can see how you’re trying to act normal, though he knows you way better than that.

the pad of his thumb rubs small circles into your hip as your lover leans in and speaks in a low yet intimate voice that only you get to hear, “oh? look at you, acting all tough with your little pout.”

“tell me. what’s up, princess?” satoru whispers, his breath warm against your ticklish skin. he lowers his head to your face and plants a small kiss on your nose, gaining a mix of delighted yet irritated whispers of the people around you.

“usually you jump right into my arms after seeing me— y’know, like a lil’ bunny,” the white-haired man starts sulking as well, pressing your body flush against his. “where’s my cute ‘n clingy babyyyy?”

satoru’s over-exaggerated whine makes your nose scrunch up, though you can’t deny the truth. he knows you better than you know yourself. he can see right through your attempt to disguise your jealousy, yet you’re still too stubborn to admit anything.

“whatever. come on,” you roll your eyes before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward. you want nothing more than to escape your surroundings. you’re getting tired of the continuous and unwanted attention satoru is getting.

it’s irksome. you know satoru doesn’t give them the attention they so desire - he never will - yet you still feel this pang in your chest whenever you see those girls shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.

satoru, being naturally observant, notices your sudden eagerness to leave campus. he can tell that your jealousy is growing worse because of the other students that keep on eyeing him. while he is used to the attention, he hates seeing it affect you.

the whispers and giggles from the other women are like white noise, insignificant background fodder that barely warranted his notice. you’re all he sees and listens to— no matter what.

your presence, your voice, your body, your soul. . . you’re the only one he cares about. he just wishes you’d realise that.

satoru wordlessly allows himself to be dragged off. his gaze is fixated on the back of your head, a mixture of amusement and worry glinting in those blue eyes of his. he can’t help but feel guilty. even if he didn’t really do anything wrong.

he wants to make it up to you, somehow.

once you reach the car, satoru gently shoos your hand away from the door handle the moment he catches you try to get in yourself. he reaches around you and pulls it open with a soft ‘click’.

satoru then surprises you by kissing your forehead— his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head. his fingers bury themselves in your hair. a subtle smirk tugs at his glossy lips as he senses the envious glares from the other, irrelevant onlookers.

that’s exactly what he’s trying to accomplish. to make it known to the world that he’s your man. he’ll gladly do it over and over again, until all of them finally take the hint.

“ladies first,” satoru gestures, his voice gentle and loving. he pulls back and smiles at you with his dimples showing. you’re slightly taken aback by the smooth gesture before thanking him in a small murmur.

“thank you.”

it’s silent for a good couple seconds after satoru gets into the driver’s seat. he settles his keys into the ignition switch, though doesn’t turn them. instead, he faces you with a small sigh.

your lover already recognises what’s up. you probably won’t talk to him until the jealousy subsides. but that isn’t how he wants to fix this situation— he wants you to communicate with him.

“hey,” satoru tries to get you to look at him. your body is slightly turned away, your eyes looking out of the car window. it’s painfully obvious that you’re upset with him, even when it isn’t specifically his fault.

“don’t hide from me, c’mon,” he chuckles and tries to make you feel better by bringing your hand up to his lips. satoru leaves small kisses on your palm, eyes peering over the rims of his sunglasses to gauge your reaction.

you still don’t turn to face him. you’re too caught up in your own feelings— too stubborn to talk about the jealousy and insecurities that are bugging you. you know it’s unfair to your partner, but you currently can’t fix your own emotions.

sensing your insistent reluctance to face him, satoru places his hand gently under your chin. his fingers curl around your jaw and gently guide your gaze to meet his. the sight of your downcast expression - plagued with insecurity - tugs on his heartstrings.

“oh, my sweet little baby,” the white-haired man sighs once more.

without another word, the gap between you quickly closes as satoru leans in, his lips meeting yours in a firm but soft kiss. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the suddenness of his kiss, but the tension in your shoulders slowly starts to dissappear as you melt into his embrace.

the touch of his calloused fingers on your jaw is a wordless command you cannot resist. the kiss is a silent form of reassurance, a way for him to remind you of his feelings for you.

his want and need for you.

satoru can nearly taste the jealousy etched into your initial resistance, which he seeks to silence with his touch. thus, he deepens the kiss with renewed vigor. his free hand cups the back of your head and gently tilts it upwards to gain a better angle.

“mh. sweet,” satoru’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip. he eagerly swallows the faint taste of candy that you had eaten earlier. his tongue delves into your mouth the moment your lips make way, memorising every part of it.

he doesn’t let go of you until you’re both breathless. the sorcerer pulls back, though keeps the distance between your lips at a minimum. his cheeks are painted a soft pink, eyes half lidded and lips even glossier with your saliva now coating them.

“haah— fuck,” satoru catches his breath while his free hand rubs up and down your waist. he resists the urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you right then and there. he’ll leave that for when you’re home.

his gaze is on your parted lips once more. he simply cannot hold himself back from leaning in. his body moves closer to yours, caging you in between him and the passenger seat.

“i’m all yours,” satoru murmurs against your soft lips. he cups your face as he places a quick peck on your mouth. “only yours,” another chaste kiss causes your smile to find its way back onto your face. “don’t you forget,” and a third kiss finally makes you giggle.

your lover hums in satisfaction. he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning widely as he successfully managed to coax the jealousy away— to gain his beautiful, happy girlfriend back. “there she is,” satoru coos and squeezes your cheeks together.

you huff at the feeling of your lips forced into a deformed ‘o’ shape, yet the bright smile tugging at your lips doesn’t disappear. “sorry for acting so childish,” you apologise for your own behavior. if it wasn’t for satoru taking the initiative to make it up to you, you would have given him the silent treatment.

the white-haired man shakes his head. he ruffles your hair affectionately while his lips settle on your cheek. he tenderly nibbles on the plush flesh, “no need to apologise. ‘t was cute,” he replies in a muffled voice.

satoru pulls back and his thumb brushes over the subtle mark that his teeth left on your skin. “besides,” he pinches your cheek before cocking his head to the right. your eyes follow the direction he’s looking at— which is your car window.

“i think everyone finally realised that y’re the one ‘n only girl for me.”

your heart drops as you only then remember that satoru’s car windows aren’t tinted. that means that everyone on campus probably has seen the little make out session you had with your boyfriend just now.

your eyes quickly dart around the crowded area. the way your fellow students are glancing at you - some with envy and others with embarrassment - tells you more than enough. . .

you clear your throat and try to hide your face with the sleeves of your top. you don’t know how you’re going back to university after today without facing the humiliating consequences of your (satoru’s) actions.

your shameless boyfriend sits there and grins from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment and oblivious to your embarrassed state until you speak up again;

“. . satoru, please drive away as fast as you can.”