#it feels REALLY good to be getting out there and starting to set up these workshops & talks with student groups

[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 🫶🏻

[reshinless]

Hear me out..Jealous!kinich x reader smut...also I love your writing style it makes me wanna explode🤭

──── bet you feel it now, baby

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. you didn't have to laugh that hard at his joke. it wasn't even that funny. he's better, it's fine, he'll just show you how much better he is.

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader, !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. posting wip list in a bit plus brief overview of 800 special fic (it'll probably be genshin/hsr :3)

۪ ⠀✧ warnings. possessive behavior (kinich), jalosi /j, kinda ass/pussy eating (see to it however you like, i used no real specific term, reader is blindfolded for some parts, jealous behavior, rough sex, sex itself, y'all get walked in on (be ready for this to be implied into more of my kinich works LOL), establish relationship

"ahhn- kinich i said 'm sorry.. pleasef- slow down!" your face in the pillows, your words muffled and long gone into the night. the black-haired man's raspy voice spoke from behind— your boyfriend, kinich, of course. "he wasn't all that entertaining, why laugh like how you do with me?"

it was torture to him, seeing how it went from an awkward laugh, a polite smile, to a more genuine appearance to the stupid guy that just had to come up to you while he was busy getting a little snack for ajaw— even ajaw wouldn't comment on how his face looked this time, keeping his own silence as he ate the delicious candy.

"fffuck- he was an old classmate i had at the akademiya- 'm sorry, i-i really am kin-!" he almost laughed at your words. classmate? doesn't mean you should be playfully hitting shoulder like that. or teasing him like that. it's all his, no one else should be able to have it.

you shuddered, what felt like cumming again for the umpteenth time in a row, he hadn't stopped pinning you against the wall, and making you see stars over and over again ever since you saw your "classmate".

"doesn't matter." he groans, finishing inside you once more, your eyes were blindfolded by his headwear, previously on his forehead. he carries you onto the mattress, laying you down a little roughly. "w- what are you doing?"

you shivered once more, feeling warm exhales near your entrance, his cheek resting suddenly on one of your thighs. "all mine, right?" the blunt tone present in his tone definitely made it out as if you couldn't tell him anything other than yes (because it was true). his lips start to scatter a plethora of glossy little kisses all over your thighs, the sensation of getting him to cover every inch of your legs felt like a fever dream.. was this really a punishment?

you could feel his other hand snake to one of yours, which was somewhere on the bed. holding it tight as he started to place wet pecks over your hole. "hhnnn.. kin stop- ... stop teasing me.." you felt yourself moan into his touch, your other hand reaching out for wherever his head was. your fist grabbing at his hair, almost trying to push him into you further.

you felt him groan into you, you could sense he was whipped for your taste. the way you moaned his name. his.. name. "ahh- ahhh fffuck!— kin it's all yours, i promise!" his hand left yours, and stopped lapping at your hole for a moment- you heard a small grunt, and two things landing on the floor.. was he taking his gloves off?!

you could feel him sitting you up with one of his other hands, arms setting you down onto his face, arms locking around your thighs. straddling you over his mouth, as he started to devour what was his. no other guy could do this to you, not without making you feel as good as he did.

shit and he definitely did, the way he made you feel wasn't like the stupid losers who'd try to hook up with you back in the akademiya. or tried to pick you up in the streets. they can't make you feel turned on as much as you did when kinich blindfolded your eyes with something he doesn't usually take off and hear his belt buckle start to come off- ahhh nothing was better!

oh you felt yourself almost creaming on his face just thinking about it. not to mention how good he worked his tongue into you, definitely tasting every little bit, every little nook & cranny his tongue could reach.

he made a small sound, looking up to see you slowly riding his face as is, trying to rub yourself near against his nose. his authorative hold was more than enough to stop you from moving again, one of his palms moving over your stomach to feel the way his tongue moved inside you.

his head busily buried itself more into your scent, glossing his tongue so carefully, making sure you feel it. you started to feel something pool in your stomach- ssshit you were gonna cum again! your hands trail back down to his hair, gripping it harshly again, him seeing signs that you're close, he fastens his pace, licking as much as he could, no longer concentrating on the taste, more on your facial expression.

"ahhn- kin i'm g'na-!" "mmm there it is, such a good kitty." were the words he moaned into your hole, as he gladly lapped up every inch of your delicious juice/cum.

as he placed a kiss onto your entrance once more, he places more than just one kiss onto your lips, making out with you for a bit. letting him taste what he's been tasting for the past hour, the shared, mix of both of your cum.

your lips finally parting from his, your eyes still shut close 'till you feel a fist of your hair being gripped, "not done yet." is all kinich whispers, his voice a little coarse as he continues to kiss you. "all.. yours," you feel him take your hand, putting it over his heart while you both pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva being created. "and all mine, please?" he points to where your heart is in your chest.

his blunt attitude could only make you laugh, planting a kiss onto his head, and nodding to an agreement. "mmm- yeah. all yours."

"you guys are reaaaaaaalll corny! you're lucky i like your partner this time!" ajaw butts in as you laugh, while kinich simply scoffs- looking the other way and burying his face into your chest.

not as cool as my other works, and it's more cringe if i keep looking back on it, cute request tho !!!!<3333

[sturniqlo]

Spilled Water- M.S

summary: where pregnant!reader films a video with the triplets and her water breaks and matt is freaking out. BLURB

cw: cursing, panicking(?)

an: lowercase intended

masterlist | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

"no! the cooking oil! that's y/n's coconut oil!" nick, wearing a chef hat and a white apron, snatches the small mason jar from chris' hands. "what is my coconut oil even doing here?" y/n waddles to nick to grab it. "i went to grab it from your bathroom, i thought nick had said coconut oil." chris explains.

"how'd you hear- nevermind." nick sighs and returns to the mixing bowl. "i don't know where their stuff is!" both nick and chris had came over to matt and y/n's apartment as y/n was nearing the end of her pregnancy and matt didn't want her to be alone in case she went into labor.

"the oil is in the kitchen, genius." matt says, and turns to the cabinet where the oil sits behind. "okay, guys, today we are making a cake from scratch!" nick holds up the empty mixing bowl and talks to the camera. "usually we bake boxed cakes, so we decided to switch it up for todays video. and don't worry, we have the expert here, y/n!" she shyly waves to the camera.

she's been in a couple of their videos and the fans adored her. "guys, y/n makes these really good chocolate croissants, but the boss man nick wanted a fucking cake." chris crosses his arms. "hey, what's wrong with cake? we," y/n points to her face and her swollen belly. "also wanted cake." matt laughs. "thank you, y/n and baby. see, chris, i'm not the only one who wanted cake."

"alright, enough about who wanted cake. let's get this show on the road." matt drapes his arm around his pregnant girlfriends shoulders. "okay, chris, pour in two cups of flour." nick reads off of his phone. "where are the measuring cups?" chris looks around. "ugh! motherfucker look around!"

"don't be mean to chris." y/n walks away from matt's hold and opens the drawer to grab the measuring cups. "thank you-" chris starts off. "it's not our fault he's a little bit different." y/n breaks out into a laugh and nick and matt follow her. "okay, okay stop it! i think i peed a little. she's pressing on my bladder."

"alright now that we have all of our dry ingredients mixed together, we're going to add in our wet ingredients." matt says. "how many cups of water do we need?" y/n asks, a bit in discomfort. she's been having a bit of braxton hicks lately, but her doctor said to not worry. however, these were a bit different but, she didn't really pay too much attention to it.

nick tells her how much and she walks towards the sink and pours it. as she walks back nick gasps. "y/n, you spilled the water on yourself." he points to her stained grey sweatpants. "what? no i didn't, look." she holds up the cup that holds the water.

"babe, your water broke!" matt says with widened eyes. "oh my god!" she sets down the cup on the counter and looks down, sure enough her water did break. "i- i don't know how i didn't feel it." she giggles. "chris go- go grab the baby bag it's in the- in the- fuck- the closet by the uh- the door." matt stumbles over his words. chris doesn't do anything but nod and hurry off to get the bag.

"oh my gosh, she's coming? like now?" nick says, y/n laughs as she can't take him seriously with the chef hat on. "y/n, come on, we need to take you to the hospital!" matt places a hand on the small of her back and leads her to the door.

"matt, baby, wait. i need to change my pants." she turns and walks into their shared room. "what? no, you're fine like this! you're in labor." matt says, running a hand through his hair. "hey, calm down, okay." y/n reassures him and holds his face in her hands. "i'm feeling fine as of now, i think we still have some time until i start getting contractions."

"okay, are- are you sure?" she nods. "i'm sure."

"oh!" y/n shrieks, putting a hand on her back as she stands in front of the bathroom counter. she was brushing her hair until she got her very first contraction. "matt, get the car ready!" she take a deep breath and tries to ignore the pain. "come on, come on! chris has the bag, is it okay if they come?"

"i don't care if- fuck." she gets a strong one. "it's okay, you're okay." he kisses her forehead and walks her out the room. "chris lock the door. her keys are on the table." matt tells chris as nick now holds her and walks her out the door. "how are you feeling?" nick says. "like im about to give birth."

"wait! what about the cake?" chris says.

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.

[flawseer]

In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

[wttcsms]

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: fumiko.gima@apextalentgroup.com To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: wfitch@everlanefitch.com, mai.sasaki@apextalentgroup.com, hideakitakeda@titansecuritysolutions.com, benji1968@gmail.com + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All — 

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule. 

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS 

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off. 

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.) 

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you. 

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit. 

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms. 

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty. 

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts. 

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u 

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words. 

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment] 

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason 

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested. 

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media. 

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.” 

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know, 

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.” 

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.” 

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming. 

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything. 

Late in the afternoon, you get another text. 

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense. 

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out? 

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world. 

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity. 

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living. 

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days. 

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home? 

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too. 

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :) 

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM. 

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her. 

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend. 

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words. 

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be. 

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her. 

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you. 

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table. 

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day. 

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her. 

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.” 

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy. 

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.” 

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress. 

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could. 

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.” 

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?” 

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation. 

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?” 

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him. 

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?” 

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks. 

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together. 

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers. 

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend. 

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.” 

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion. 

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk). 

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned. 

“Never better.” 

“Do you have a ride home?” 

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say. 

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking. 

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge. 

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.) 

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly. 

“Let me take you home.” 

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.” 

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early. 

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].” 

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever. 

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car. 

No. 

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross — Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up. 

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!” 

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!” 

“Then why were your hands all over me?” 

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet. 

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint. 

He blinks. “What?” 

“What?” You repeat back, innocently. 

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back. 

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup. 

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.” 

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks. 

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway. 

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back. 

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces. 

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?” 

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps. 

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.” 

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets. 

“Do you really want me to stay?” 

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: reader drunkenly explains her love for Chris to ‘Matt’

Warnings: swearing, reader being drunk, drinking alcohol, drunk confessions, kissing, mainly fluff

Word Count: 2.9k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The night started out slow, but then quickly picked up as more people arrived. Your friend, Wren, was hosting a five mill party tonight and you were definitely celebrating.

“Come play pong with me!” Wren yelled as she grabbed your arm.

“One second, I need to send this text.” You kept your eyes on your phone, typing out a text. Wren leans over, “Texting Chris?”

You jerk your phone away, “No, it’s- um.” You roll your eyes, “Yeah, Chris.”

“Christopher Sturniolo.” She says with a smirk and you shush her, “Keep your voice down. He doesn’t even know I like him, I don’t need a hundred and fifty people knowing before him.”

“Are you ever going to tell him?” She tilts her head and you nod, “Yes.”

“When?”

“When.. I fell like te-“ you huff, shoving your phone back into your pocket, “Let’s go play pong.”

You pull her over to the table, standing next to her as two other people emerge from the crowd to play against the two of you.

Your drink was finished by the first round, “Damn.” You laugh, “We really suck at this.”

“You’re not drunk enough. The key to pong is being plastered, okay?” Wren points to the guys across the table, “Well be back for a rematch.”

They laugh, giving a thumbs up and she drags you to the drink table, “Here.” She places two shot glasses on the table top and fills them with a clear liquid, “Cheers to five million!”

“Cheers to five million!” You take your shot and set the glass down, and she instantly refills it, “Oh sweetie, we are just getting started.”

You laugh, taking the second shot, “Okay.” You pour some alcohol into your cup, “Let’s go dance a little bit.”

You dance, go back for more shots, dance some more, get a few more drinks, play some pong - and win, and in between all of that, you were still managing to text Chris.

You so agould hace came,, chrisypjher

You watched the screen as the text bubbles popped up and smiled when his text came through.

Looks like you’re having a damn good night. I would have, but I didn’t have an invite.

You bite your lip, your cup between your knees as you focused on typing as best as you could.

You were drunk, drunk.

Yo u coula have cane wirh me it woulw have bwsn okayu

You lean back, finishing the rest of your drink. You were honestly ready to go home. It’s been a few hours, and within those hours, you partied hard.

It’s okay, ma. I hope you’re having a good time. You deserve it.

You bite your lip, smirking as you reread his text. You were close with the Sturniolo brothers. You grew up down the street from them, so you knew them pretty well.

Your crush on Chris, though, only grew bigger and bigger as the years went on.

Before you can reply, you’re pulled up from your seat, “Come with me!” Wren yells as she pulls you away from your seat.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask confused. The tone in her voice made it seem like something was wrong, “Wren?”

She pulls you away from everyone and turns around, “That girl over there, the-the blonde one with the bow.”

You look over, nodding as you see her, “What about her?” You look back at her, swaying back and forth, you felt like you needed to sit down but the words from Wren’s mouth shocked you, “She likes Chris.”

“What?” You stare at her, “What?”

She nods, “You need to claim him now or else he’ll be gone forever.”

“Don’t say that.” You felt like you could puke, “Are you serious right now?”

She nods, “I over heard her talking to my friend, she said that Chris has been texting her and he really seems interested.”

You glance down at your phone, seeing a Chris from text, “M’gonna ask him.” Wren watches as you bring your phone up.

“What’s her name, Wren?” You look up at her and she shrugs, “I think Leslie or something of that sort? I dunno, I jus’want you to be able to be honest with your feelings with him. You’ve liked him forever.”

A part of you felt like Wren was making this whole thing up just so you would tell him, but then again, the triplets were popular and it is LA that you’re in right now.

“I don’t feel good.” You shake your head, “I need to..” you step back and start walking towards the back patio, “..go outside.”

You walk out, closing the door behind you. To your right, two people were pretty much choking on each other’s tongues and you let out a small huff, walking over to the back of the house more and leaning up against the wall.

You squint your eyes as you try to navigate through the letters on your keyboard as you type out your message.

You stop, realizing when you don’t know what to say. You’re just tapping random letters, “Shit.” You take a deep breath, swiping out of texts and going to your contacts.

You scrolled down to Matt’s contact and his call.

After a few rings, he picks up, “Hey, how’s the party?”

“I-I need you to come get me.”

“Is everything okay? What happened?” Matt asks from the other end, “Y/n?”

“I’m just..” you sigh, “Ready to leave this place.”

“Okay, can you drop your location to me? I don’t know how to get to Wren’s house.”

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

“Okay, I’m on my way, can you wait out front?”

“Yeah, I’ll go there now.” You hang up, sending him your location before you walk back in. Wren runs up to you, almost like she completely forgot the news she just delivered, “So good news.”

You sigh, “I’m leaving.”

“Is it because of what I said?”

You shrug, “I just.. drank too much? I think?”

“Whatever, anyway, good news is, she was talking about a different Chris. Apparently this guy is some actor or something, so your Chris is still available.”

You smile slightly, “You need to work on your wording and getting to the point faster.”

“How are you getting home?” She tilts her head as she sips her drink. You hold up your phone, “Matt is coming to get me.”

She nods, “You going to their house?” She smirks, “Where Chris resides. Hmm?”

You roll your eyes, “I guess. Unless he wants to go out of his way, I mean it’s almost one in the morning so.”

“Just bite the bullet, stay at their place.” She perks up, “Fuck I love this song.” She runs away before anything else is said and you shake your head before stumbling to the front door and walking out.

You sit down on the sidewalk outside, looking around as you wait for Matt to roll up.

You look down, gasping quietly when you remember you left Chris on read, “Oh shit.”

Sorty things gor a litle hetiv

Hectic^*

You laugh, shaking your head as you type more.

I’m deubk

You look up as a car pulls up and stops right in front of you. Matt gets out and walks around, “Hey drunkie. Need a ride home?”

You laugh and extend your arm out, indicating you need help up, “Please.” You laugh as he pulls you up and opens the passenger door, “Don’t puke in my car. I just got it cleaned.”

“I’m good, I’m good.” You smile and give him a double thumbs up, “I promise.”

“You better be.” Matt laughs and shakes his head before closing the door. He walks around and gets in, buckling up before looking at you, “Seatbelt, please.”

“Aye aye captain, sir.” You turn, pulling the belt out and laying it over your body. Matt shakes his head, laughing as he starts to drive once he hears the click.

“How was it?” He glances over at you and you sigh, “It was good, really fun, up until Wren had to go and ruin my mood.”

He furrows his brows, “Why did she do that? That wasn’t very nice.”

You scoff, “She told me that some bitch was trying to talk to-“ you stop talking, shaking your head, “Some bitch was causing issues.”

“Issues how?”

You sigh, resting your head back, “Stuff. I think, I don’t know. Wren said she was talking to someone I liked and I got all.. down in the dumps.”

“Who do you like?” Matt asks teasingly and you push his shoulder, “m’not tellin, but you know him.”

Matt knew you liked Chris. Chris was oblivious, even when Matt and Nick would pick on him about how he wouldn’t stop smoking around you.

“I know I do.”

Your head snaps over, “You know I like Chris?”

“I didn’t.” He plays dumb, “But I do now.”

You groan, “Please don’t say anything. Please Matt.”

“I won’t, but you should probably tell him soon.” Matt looks over at you and your heart sinks into your gut, “W-why? Is what Wren said actually true?”

He shrugs and you whine, “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like this is a game because it’s not.”

“You get whiney when you drink, too much. You know that?” He looks at you and laughs, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding.”

You roll your eyes, fighting back laughter, “Not my fault.”

“Actually-“

You cut him off, “Are you taking me home or to your place?”

“Where do you want to go?” He asks as he stops at a red light, “Either one is fine with me.”

“My house is further than yours and I need a shower.” You sigh and Matt nods, “Yeah, I know that, too.” He laughs and you smack his arm.

“I think I’m getting buzzed just by you sitting next to me, goddamn.” Matt laughs and you shake your head laughing, “Fuck off, Matthew.”

“Oooh, we’re going by full names now, okay.” Matt shakes his head, “Why don’t you text Christopher and tell him what you told me.”

At that moment, your phone buzzes in your lap, a few texts from Chris appearing on your Lock Screen, “I’m not going to tell him that, not yet. But I will tell him how much of a bully you’re being to me right now.”

Matt laughs, “Good luck with that.”

You read down the texts from Chris,

I can tell lol

Is Matt there to get you yet?

Are you coming here or going home?

You bite you lip, concentrating on typing out your message.

I’m wirh Matthew hea being a bulky righy now tho lol alsp coming to youe house

You hit send and look over at Matt, “Does Chris like me too?”

Matt shrugs, “You’ll have to ask him that one yourself.”

“How do you not know?” You scoff, laughing as you look over at him. He shrugs, “I don’t get paid enough to be a matchmaker.”

“We don’t pay you at all?” You laugh and Matt laughs, “Exactly.”

He pulls into the driveway and you let out a sigh, “Fuck.”

“What?” Matt asks as he undoes both seatbelts, “Thought you wanted to come here.”

“I did, I do. I just, am way too drunk for this right now.”

Matt laughs, “Too bad, you’re not sleeping out here. Come on.” He gets out, walking around to open your door. He helps you out, holding onto your arm as you walk up the steps, “Last one.”

You nod, stepping up and standing at the door. You stare at the knob and look at Matt, “Is it locked?”

“No it’s not locked.” Matt laughs, “Get in there, drunkie.”

You laugh as you walk in, gasping when you see Nick heading for the steps, “Nick!”

He turns around, head tilting as his eyes go wide, “Hello?”

You walk up and give him a hug and Matt closes the door, “She’s wasted.”

Nick nods, leaning back, “Yeah, I can smell it, goddamn. How much did you have to drink?”

You start counting on your fingers but you end up laughing, “A lot.”

Nick raises his brows and shakes his head, “So you had a good time?” You nod, “a greeeaate time!” Matt walks up behind you, “Come on. To the bathroom. You need to wash off the night, literally.”

You groan as you follow him, taking your time on the steps. When you look up, Chris is standing there with a smirk, “What’s up, drunkie?”

You roll your eyes, smirking as you make it past the last step, “I am in fact, drunkie.”

“I know, you told me. Multiple times.” Chris laughs and you sigh, “I gotta go wash the night off, literally. Matt’s words, not mine.”

You hold your hands up in defense and lean back, you gasp as you feel like you’re falling but both Matt and Chris reach out for you, grabbing you before you tumble, “Yeah.” Chris nods, “I’ll go get you some water.”

You walk to the bathroom and you can hear Matt and Chris whispering but you pay no attention. You walk into the bathroom and close the door.

You lean against the wall as you reach in to slowly turn the water on. You sigh, pushing yourself up off the wall and take off your dress and everything else.

You step in, closing the door and letting the water fall down all over you. You sway back and forth, humming to yourself as you reach out to grab some of the soap.

You wash your body, then you move to your hair and rinse and you take a few more moments, just standing under the hot water before finally getting out.

You were still drunk, but you already knew you were in for a massive hangover tomorrow, which you dreaded, but it was always worth it.

You wrap the towel around your body, wiping the mirror to check if all of your makeup was off or not, and it was, luckily.

You opened the door and walk out. As you make your way down to the guest room, a voice calls out for you, “Y/n.”

“What?” You turn around, moving to lean against the wall. Matt walks down the hall, “Do you need clothes or anything?”

“I think I have a few things here. If not I’ll come find you.”

He nods, “Okay. If you need anything at all, just yell.”

“Okay.” You laugh and walk to the room. You had a shirt and a pair of sweats here, so you dried off and threw them on.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. You got up from the bed and opened it, “Matt. I’m good.” You spin around and walk back to the bed to lay down.

“I-“

You cut him off, “Actually. I want to talk to you.” You sit up, glancing over at him, “Remember what I said in the car?”

“You said a lot.” He chuckles, “what part exactly?”

“About Chris.” You look over at him, “Matt, I don’t know how to tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

You scoff, “That I like him. Come on, keep up dude.”

You hear him laugh and he brings his hand up to his mouth, “Right, yeah. Sorry.”

“What so funny? Seriously, I feel like I’m going to lose my chance on being with him, like I just want to know if he likes me back, why can’t you just give me that?”

“He does like you.”

“He does?” You snap your head over to him and your heart sinks into your gut, “Oh fuck.”

“Hey.” Chris pushes down his hood and runs his hand over his hair and you shake your head, “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.. to.. fuck. Drunk me always embarrasses myself.”

You lay your hands over your face and you feel the bed dip down. Chris gently pulls your hands away and tilts your chin up, “Look, I’m just glad that I finally got confirmation.”

He laughs slightly and you smile, “I’m not, like, having a drunk hallucination am I?”

He shakes his head, “No, ma. This is real.”

You were suddenly feeling,. Bold, to say the least. You tilt your head, squinting your eyes, “Prove it.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head as he laughs, “Alright, fine.”

He leans in, cupping your cheek before pressing his lips to yours. Your hand slides up his chest, resting on his neck as your lips move with his.

He leans back slightly, eyes looking into yours, “Did that prove anything?”

You nod your head, “Uh huh. I just hope I remember this tomorrow.”

Chris laugh, “Yeah, me too.” He smiles and nods towards the top of the bed, “Come here.” He moves up, laying down and holding his arms out.

You move up, laying your body on his and his arms wrap around your body, holding onto you tight, “Thanks for drunk texting me.”

You laugh slightly, “drunk or sober, it’s always you.” You tilt your head up and he looks down at you, smiling before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Good, now get some sleep.” He kisses your head and with that and his embrace, you were out like a light.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thanks for reading! I love you all so much! Catch you in the next one. 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[mapis-putellas]

[ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴛꜱ ]

Summary: You never intended to meet the love of your life on a random Friday at work, and you definitely never thought she’d be world famous footballer Alexia Putellas.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Your date with Alexia ends up lasting the entire day. After getting ice cream -the second activity Alexia had planned- you'd ended up taking a small road trip to the nearest beach just a few miles away. Due to the time of day it was still relatively crowded, but you'd managed to find a small unoccupied area near the water where Alexia had promptly laid out the hoodie she'd brought from the car for you to sit on.

She'd sat herself opposite, cross legged, just like you, with her knees flush against your own. It was kind of perfect honestly, just sitting with her talking about anything and everything. She even teaches you a few more Spanish words, high-fiving you and intertwining her hands with your own whenever you got something right.

Had it been just an excuse to touch you? Maybe? But you certainly hadn't minded.

You'd then spent at least an hour walking hand in hand down the shoreline, comfortable conversation still flowing smoothly between you. It was only when the sun had started to set did you make the joint decision to call it a day, the car ride back feeling a lot quicker than the initial journey there. She'd pulled up outside of your apartment just as the clock strikes nine pm, leaving the car running as she unbuckles her seatbelt and steps out. You watch her round the vehicle before reaching to your open door, not hesitating to take the hand she offers you and allowing her to help you out of the car.

You'd stared at one another for a few moments before you had step forward to loop your arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug, Alexia responding almost immediately by securing her arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off of your feet.

You cup the back of her head, effectively bringing her with you when she sets you back down and pressing your lips softly against her own. A few murmured assurances about a second date had briefly filled the silence, and then you'd both bid one another a rather reluctant goodbye, you waving her off from your place on the sidewalk.

You had entered your apartment feeling both ecstatic and sad. Ecstatic because this was officially the best date you'd ever been on and sad because it was over. That continues as you get ready for bed, but a text from Alexia sweetly bidding you a good night immediately cheers you up.

Throughout the remainder of the week, you and Alexia text pretty frequently. It's mostly in the evenings when she was free and the conversation was mostly pretty friendly with the occasional i hope to see you soon thrown in. It bums you a little that nothing had been brought up about a second date; especially when you'd asked her to let you know when she was free so you didn't plan something when she was busy. But it could simply be the fact that she had no free time and was waiting for a day to be available. That's what you've been telling yourself anyway, so not to drive yourself insane with the what ifs.

About three days after your first date is when she FaceTimes you for the first time. It was a little after eight at night, so you were in the bathroom getting ready for bed when your phone buzzes softly against the counter. You pick it up, blinking a little in surprise when you see the name on your screen but not hesitating to press accept.

"Hey." You smile, propping her up against the back of the sink as you continue wiping off your makeup.

She was in her car, you think, though it didn't seem as though she was driving. It was slightly dark, but you could make out the fact that she was wearing the same football kit she'd been wearing the day you'd met. Man, she really liked football huh?

"Hola, amor." She greets, reclining her seat back slightly so she could get more comfortable. She props her elbow up on the door, resting her head in her hand. "How has your day been?" She wonders.

You shrug slightly as you wet your face before uncapping your face wash, pouring some out onto your hand and rubbing it onto your skin. "It's been alright," you shrug. "work was long but productive. I ate some dinner and read my book and now I'm getting ready for bed. How was your day?" You quickly rinse off your face before drying it off with a clean towel.

Alexia sighs softly. "My day was good, gracias, amor." She offers you a tentative smile, one you don't hesitate to return. You bend down a little, resting your elbows against the counter and resting your face in your hands. Alexia tilts her head to the side, looking inquisitive as you stare at her.

"What is it?" She whispers after a few silent moments, and you sigh softly as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Is it weird to say that I missed you?" You admit a little more bashfully than you would have liked, your cheeks flushing a light shade of red.

Alexia's features soften as she holds her phone a little closer to her face. "No," she shakes her head. "It is not weird. I missed you too. I have been trying to find a free day for our second date but I have been..."

"Busy," you nod, letting out a soft sigh as you pick up your moisturiser. "I know, I understand. I just wanted to tell you."

She nods. "Actually, I call because I have a question...for you."

"Ask away." You assure.

"I have training tomorrow, and I want to ask if...you could, wanted, to go with me?"

"Football training?" You ask, turning off the bathroom light and making your way into your bedroom.

"Sí." Alexia nods.

"You want me to go with you to training?"

"Yes. If you want to. Of course you do not have to, it will be boring, just sitting in the stands but..."

"I'll never turn down an opportunity to see you Alexia. Of course I'll come with you." You were quick to say as you settle against her headboard of your bed, propping your phone up with a pillow in front of you. "Just know I have no idea how any of it works." You warn somewhat seriously.

Alexia laughs. "That is okay. I will explain it to you." She assures.

"You will, huh?" You grin, reaching back to pull your hair back into a ponytail. Your tank top slips up your body at the action, slightly exposing your torso, and you pretend you don't notice the way her eyes not so subtly flicker down to get a look. She clears her throat softly just a few seconds later, a sheepish smile slipping onto her lips when she realises you'd caught her in the act.

"Promesa." She says after a few seconds, and you hum softly as lean back against the headboard of your bed.

"Wait," you abruptly sit back up. "does training count as a second date?"

"Uhhh..." she sends you a guilty smile.

"Alexia! I was supposed to plan the second date!"

*

It was only when Alexia pulls up outside of a large looking stadium the next day do you realise that maybe this whole football thing was a lot more serious than she'd been letting on.

You look around as you exit the car, seeing many others in matching football kits as Alexia grabs a large duffel bag out of the trunk. Some look right at to with a look of confusion on their faces, making you wonder if Alexia really had permission to bring you here after all.

You turn, ready to question her, but Alexia subtly shakes her head as she gestures you towards the entrance of the stadium. Though your confusion deepens, you comply and follow her inside, your eyes widening when you take note of people with cameras and phones filming everyone who passes as Alexia grasps your hand and pulls you out of the way of everyone.

"Alexia, what's going on? You said this was football training-"

"Sí," she cuts you off, squeezing your hand. "It is football training. I...I play for Barça."

"I-okay? I don't know what that means. Why are there people taking pictures? Why are there cameras?" You whisper the last part, not wanting anyone to overhear.

Alexia sighs lightly. "Vale. I...I am Alexia Putellas."

You raise an eyebrow as you lean back against the wall, shoving your hands into your pockets. "I know your name, dummy."

"No," she shakes her head. "I do not know how to explain in English. I do not know the right words. You have your phone, sí?"

You nod, your eyebrows furrowing.

She swallows heavily as she gestures for you to pull it out, and you comply. "Google my name. That will explain and I will answer the questions you have."

"I am so confused." You mutter, unlocking your phone and typing Alexia's name into google. Your eyes widen in disbelief at the results that greet you, lips parting in silent surprise as your body becomes entirely still. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog of bewilderment that had clouded your vision.

Alexia Putellas didn't just like football like you had assumed. She was a famous footballer.

You jump reflexively when you feel her hand gently come to rest on your arm, wincing a little when Alexia rips her hand away a though she'd been scolded.

"I..." you have absolutely no idea what to say.

"I know," Alexia murmurs. "I am sorry, I should have-"

You shake your head, holding a hand up to stop her from talking. She complies, but grows more antsy the longer you remain silent. You swallow heavily as you lock your phone, stuffing it back onto your pocket with a little more force than was maybe necessary.

"You're...famous. You're a famous footballer and you didn't think to tell me before bringing me here?" You didn't sound mad, just...confused, and maybe a little hurt too.

Alexia adjusts her kitbag on her shoulder before softly clearing her throat. "I wanted to," she promises. "but, I did not know how to say it. So I thought-"

"That bringing me here would tell me for you." You cut in, and Alexia visibly winces.

"Sí." She murmurs. "I am sorry."

You sigh lightly. "It's okay. I have...more questions, but you apparently have training and I don't want you to be late."

Alexia nods. "Are you still..."

You nod. "I'll still watch." You say, smiling a little at the breath of relief that slips from Alexia's lips as she tentatively holds out her hand. You take it, feeling the way she squeezes tightly as she leads you outside and towards the stands.

She offers you any of the seats, and you decide on one that was close enough to be able to see what was going on but far enough away where you wouldn't be too easily noticed. The last thing you wanted, or needed, right now, was questions. Questions you had no idea how to answer. You sit down with your bag on the seat next to you, expecting Alexia to head off to training but blinking in surprise when instead she crouches down before you and rests her hands on your knees.

"I am sorry, again," she murmurs, still evidently feeling bad. "I did lot mean to lie to you. I was just-"

"I know," you assure. "Like I said I'm not mad at you. Just confused. But you'll explain everything to me later, right?"

"Sí. Yes. Promesa," Alexia nods, "but I still-"

"Ale." You gently cup her cheeks, trailing the pads of your thumbs over the warm skin. Brown eyes flicker up and meet your own, lips quirking up into a hesitant smile. "we've only known each other a week. Been on one date. It's a big thing, telling someone this. I understand, truly."

Alexia shifts softly as she leans into your touch. "But you seemed upset," she whispers. "You jump when I touch you." 

"Because I wasn't expecting it," you admit with a soft smile. "I didn't flinch because I was upset. I flinched because it genuinely made me jump."

"Oh," Alexia mumbles, "vale. That is good then. I-"

"Alexia!" Someone calls her name.

You both turn your heads, spotting Mapi's familiar face staring right back at you. You wave, genuinely happy to see her again and Mapi grins widely as she returns it before she once again gestures for Alexia to come over.

Alexia nods in acknowledgment before turning back to face you. "I have to go now, you have food yes? And drinks?"

"Sí." You nod, taking the hands on your knees and giving them a soft squeeze. "I have entertainment too. I have a book, my iPad. I'll be fine. Go do what you gotta do."

Alexia nods, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before standing up. She goes to walk away before abruptly stopping and unzipping her bag before rummaging through it, turning back to face you just a few seconds late with a hoodie in her grasp.

You shake your head softly. "Ale, it's hot. I don't nee-”

"Just in case, amor," She folds it up before placing it on your lap. "I do not want you to get cold."

You know full well you wouldn't get cold, but the thought of Alexia worrying that you would and offering you her hoodie fills your stomach with butterflies.

"Okay," you accept. "Thank you."

Alexia nods, sending you one last smile before hurrying down to the large field. She was immediately greeted with Mapi's knowing smile, Alexia rolling her eyes playfully as the rest of her teammates approach her. Someone says something promoting every single pair of eyes down there to meet your own, and you stare wide eyed for a second before bravely bringing your hand up for a cautious wave.

Some wave back. Some smile. One in particular; a brunette with her hair tied back into a ponytail slips away from the group, a wide grin on her face as she makes her way towards you. You wince internally when neither Alexia or Mapi seem to notice, hoping to god your terror wasn't noticeable as she makes it to the seat next to you and sits down.

"Hola," the brunette grins. "Soy Aitana. Eres la novia de Alexia?"

You stare at her blankly.

She frowns. "No hablas español?"

You somehow manage to understand this and promptly shake your head.

"Ahh," she nods before pointing to herself. "I am Aitana." She says slowly, accent thick, before pointing to you. "You are?"

"I'm Y/n."

"Ahh. And you are Alexia's girlfriend, sí?"

"Aitana! Vuelve aquí!" A voice you don't recognise calls out, but Aitana ignores it as she looks at you expectantly.

You swallow heavily before shaking her head. "Um, no. I'm not her girlfriend."

"You are not?" She frowns, and you shake your head again.

"We've only been on one date. This is the second." You explain.

Her frown deepens. "El entrenamiento de fútbol fur su gran idea para una segunda cita? Idiota, Alexia." She grumbles to herself.

You didn't understand the first part of her sentence, but you sure did understand the second. She thought Alexia was an idiot.

"Aitana! Ahora!" Calls that voice again, and Aitana waves them off as she sighs heavily and turns in her seat a little to face you.

"I will talk to her." She reaches her hand out to pat your leg in what you assumed was an action of reassurance, and though you didn't quite know what she planned to talk to Alexia about, you find yourself nodding your head in hopes it'd get her to head back to training before she got you both in trouble.

"Aitana!"

"I am going now, but we will talk later, yes?" She questions as she rises to her feet, and you nod somewhat dumbly as she turns makes her way back down to the field. She skips right over to Alexia who was in the middle of talking to someone, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. The second she has it, she begins talking, waving her hands about animatedly as she gestures from you to the field around you placing her hands on her hips.

Alexia watches on in mild concern and confusion before her eyes flicker over to you. Her eyebrow raises in silent question, and you nod assuringly, not at all affected by Aitana despite how enthusiastic she'd been.

Her other brow raises, almost as though she was asking if you were sure, and you nod again, this time throwing her a double thumbs up for good measure.

Alexia nods, turning back to face Aitana. As she begins to talk, you rummage through the small bag you brought and pull out your iPad. You'd download a few new books this morning that you knew would occupy you for the entirety of the time you were here, and as you select one, you lean back a little in your seat in hopes of getting a little more comfortable.

*

Alexia's training ends up lasting a little over four hours, and you surprisingly manage to keep yourself appropriately occupied for little over three of them. You read your book, play a few games and even make a good dent in the snacks you'd brought. It was part way through the fourth hour that you start becoming a little restless.

In an attempt at distracting yourself, you try and follow along the little scrimmage match that Alexia and her teammates were having, but it ultimately proves ineffective when you have absolutely no idea who was winning or what was even going on.

Eventually, you're forced to stand, shrugging on the hoodie that had been on your lap ever since Alexia had put it there before beginning to pace, subconsciously bringing the sleeve to your face to take in her scent. It smelt just as you remember.

You manage a total of five laps before your name was called, your eye's immediately flickering towards the direction it had come from. It was Alexia. She was stood at the edge of the field, gesturing you over with a smile on her face, and you hesitate for only a second before grabbing your things and making your way down.

She immediately throws an arm over your shoulder the second you were close enough, pressing a rather sweaty kiss to your forehead in which you just about manage to refrain from wiping away. You completely miss the smirk that graces her features at the sight of you in her hoodie.

"They want to meet you. Is that okay?" She murmurs quietly, gesturing to her teammates who were talking amongst themselves just a few feet away. You glance between them and Alexia as you lean slightly into her side, a rather hesitant look on your face. Alexia's facial expression was much the same, almost as though she'd tried to talk them out of it but had ultimately failed to to do.

"You can say no, amor. I will not be mad, and they will not either.” she assures softly, and you let out a quiet exhale through your nose before nodding your head. Getting it over and some with would be the easiest option, right?

"Vale, come on then."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics

[yapperblog]

Red Red Wine

"Handing my boyfriend a spicy polaroid of myself while we are at dinner"

Tags: established relationship, excibitionism, brief choking, oral (m!rec and fem!rec), PinV unprotected, titjob. +18

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that

You stand in front of the mirror, fixing your hair and checking your outfit from different angles. You and Joost are going on a date to a restaurant, there is no special occasion really, you both just wanted a reason to get dressed up and spend time together.

"You look great." you feel a pair of warm hands on your hips, your eyes meet Joost's in the mirror. He leans to kiss your shoulder.

You turn in his arms. "Speaking of looking great, look at you." He is wearing a fitted black suit, thick framed black glasses, his hair is freshly trimmed, and when he smiles at your compliment you notice he put in the grills on two of his teeth. He needed to add more personality to the suit. You fix his tie and smooth down the white shirt moving your hands from his pecs down his torso, stopping at the chunky belt buckle.

You turn back to the mirror checking yourself one last time. You are about to bend down to do the strap on your heels.

"Let me." Joost says and kneels in front of you. His hands gently move from your calf to your ankle, his touch is feather light, but still sends a shiver down your spine. He looks up at you and you move your foot closer to him. He puts his his head down to focus on the task at hand, you see a faint smirk form on his lips in the reflection of the mirror. He buckles the strap around your ankle and motions for you to bring your other foot closer. All of his touches are gentle, his hands so warm on your skin.

When he is finished, he leans in to leave a kiss on your exposed leg, just above knee, you feel your cheeks start to go red.

"Thank you." you say quietly as he stands up in front of you, you have to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

"My pleasure." he bows his head dramatically. He is joking, and his theatrics make you giggle, but it's true - caring for you is a pleasure to him, he would do just about anything for you.

When you are about to leave, you make sure you have the polaroid photo in your purse and rush out of the door, where Joost is waiting for you.

The restaurant you picked is fancier than the usual places you go on a date to, the reviews are great and the dim lighting with candles on each table is making it very cozy. There is a live band playing soft music on the instruments, which Joost is immediately impressed by. His usual music preference is fast and loud to match his energy and fast-pace thoughts, but he appreciates a good live instrument.

After getting seated and ordering, you feel yourself get more nervous about the surprise you prepared for him. You saw a trend of people getting their partner a spicy polaroid of themselves and decided to treat Joost to one too. You bought a new lingerie set, a lacy see-through bra and matching panties with a delicate bow, but one thing let to another, you started trying out new things and poses, so after looking through the results, you decided on the one where you are completely naked. It is on a riskier side, but the idea of him reacting to it here turns your nerves into excitement. But it is not the time to reveal it yet.

"What's on your mind?" Joost asks. He takes your hand in his, tracing his thumb on your skin. You are sitting in a small booth type table, he is on the opposite side of you.

"This handsome guy I saw, actually" you reply, your tone neutral.

"Really? Who is he? Should I check him out too?" he turns to look around the room.

"I think you might know him. He is wearing a nice suit, it looks expensive. The pants fit around his thighs so nice." you whisper the last part and he turns back to look at you. You are glad that your table is a little further away from others and it feels secluded. "And if you are lucky and get him to smile, you will see those silver grills, which make him even hotter, if that's possible." you see a blush spread on his cheeks, but he quickly regains his composure, matching your eye contact.

"Damn, hope he is taken by the prettiest girl, which caught my eye earlier, in this tight silky dress which challenges his willpower to keep his hands away from her in public and not take it off." he squeezes your hand, which he is still holding. "or else I might ask for his number, he sounds like a treat." he ends the sentence with a wink to you.

You both laugh at each others comments and turn the conversation to talk about what you both did that day, you haven't seen each other since the early morning when you left for work and until he came back from the studio in the evening, when you both got ready and left for the date.

You are discussing the documentary you watched last night together, when the waiter brings the wine. You are glad to finally have a drink, it will help take your mind off the surprise, which lays heavy in the back of your head.

"It's nice here." Joost says lifting the glass to his lips.

"It is. I'm glad we decided to go." you are happy he is enjoying it.

"Me too." he leans back on the chair, his stature seems more relaxed now. You fall back into the conversation again.

The waiter brings the pasta which you both ordered. As much as you would like to hate the overpriced food, you have to admit it's delicious. After the first bite, you close your eyes and a quiet moan slips past your lips. Joost looks at you, finishes chewing, and reaches his hand across the table to your mouth.

"You've got something here." he swipes his thumb across the corner of your lower lip, slowly on purpose. It feels so nice to feel his touch on you. There is a little bit of red sauce, which he brings to his mouth and licks off, maintaining eye contact, and continues eating. You swallow hard.

You are glad he is feeling as flirty as you, it makes you giddy to what the night holds. You continue talking, eating and drinking wine, the giggles start to escape both of you.

An idea pops into your head and you immediately act on it, as you start to move your foot closer to his. The first touch of the tip of the heel you are wearing is very light right above his ankle. You keep it there. He continues telling the story. You nod while listening and move your foot a little higher along his leg, you see a glint in his eyes appear, which are staring intently into yours. You act as if nothing is happening, matching his eye contact, while moving your foot up and down his calf slowly. You bring it higher, just under his knee, which makes him stumble over his words and loose the staring contest, having to look down into his now empty plate. He loves to act like he is in control, and you have fun pushing his buttons seeing how far you can go to make him break his act and show how he is truly wrapped around your finger.

"Having fun, are you?" he says leaning back on the chair, you notice the tips of his ears are red. He puts his hands under the table, finding your leg, holds your ankle, then moves further to message your calf. Your skin soft under his hands, he is just happy to touch you.

"I am." you reply calmly and give your opinion to the story proving you were listening carefully to the story he was telling and are unbothered. You count it as a little win. Making him flustered feels so good, knowing you have that effect on him.

"Do you want to order desert?" you suggest and put your foot down on the ground.

"Yes, I would love some." he agrees.

The dim light, instrumental music playing in the background, murmur of the conversations around you, and the nice buzz from the wine, makes you a little bolder. Everyone around seems to be in their own little bubble, focused on food and their company. You decide it's time.

You are laughing at the story Joost was telling from one of the times he went to Berlin with his friends, when the desert is placed on the table. You have to wipe the tears in the corner of your eyes from laughing so hard. He would tell you stories all night, if that meant he got to hear the beautiful sound of your laughter. Joost hands you one of the two spoons and waits for you to try first, because he knows you love the first bite.

"Actually, I have something else for you." you say and reach into your purse. You carefully take out the polaroid photo, holding it face down and sliding it to him across the table. You lift your hand and leave it front of him. You feel your own face going red at the excitement and nervousness. He looks puzzled, puts down the spoon, tries to read your expression, but you just motion for him to look at it. He takes the photo and flips in his hands to look what it is. His eyes immediately go wide, he quickly presses the polaroid to his chest, looking around to make sure no one around saw. You watch his every move, enjoying his reaction, you can't hold in a laugh that escapes you.

"Fuck." his voice sounds breathy. He looks at you exaggerating the shocked expression with his jaw open, you smile brightly. Not only his cheeks are flushed, but you see his neck slowly turn red.

He lets out a breath and looks at the polaroid, taking his time now. He leans against the back of the booth seat. You hear him swear under his breath as his eyes move across the photo, not even caring anymore if anybody walks by. He wipes the sweat the formed on his brow, trying to regain his composure. He looks at the photo again, the tips of his ears red, you are drinking in his every move.

"You did this for me?" he asks, as a little chuckle escapes him, when he sees how are excited you are.

"No, I did it for the neighbour upstairs. But he didn't answer the call in time, so I gave it to you" you say, your foot playing with his under the table again.

"Great thinking. That actually might have stopped him from complaining about the noise again." he matches your joke.

"Of course I did it for you." you touch the bracelet he got you with his initials. "Yours forever." your words make his heart race faster. He brings your hand with the bracelet on to his lips, kissing it softly.

A playful smile spreads across his face, he shakes his head and looks up at you.

"So that's what's got you so fidgety all night." he leans in placing his elbows on the table, turning the polaroid to you. It even takes your breath away, you look good in that photo.

"I wasn't fidgety." you say, defending yourself.

"Baby, I could see your hands shaking when we sat down." he says, sliding closer to you in the booth. "If I knew I had that on me, I would be nervous too." he is now only a few inches away from you. He looks at the photo again. "That is so fucking hot." he traces his finger along your body on the photo.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he takes one last look at it and puts into his card holder. To him it instantly becomes worth more than any card he owns. As much as he would love to stare at the photo for the rest of his life, he also can't believe you are sitting right in front of him, he is not possessive in a true sense of the word, but the thought that you are his, that you love him as much as he loves you, fills his heart with so much happiness.

"That's what I've been wondering too." you say, placing your elbows on the table, holding your head in your hands and turning to look at him through your lashes.

"So do you want the desert?" you take a spoon, swipe it across the white cream on the top of the piece of cake in front of you. He watches you bring the spoonfull of heavy cream into your mouth and lick it, closing your eyes, enjoying the taste. He knows you are trying to torture him and it's working.

You open your eyes, his eyes which were focused on your mouth meeting yours, his pupils are wide, the candle light reflecting in them. The fire matches his thoughts racing through his head right now.

He moves even closer to you, his lips close to your ear "I would love the desert." he whispers only for you to hear. You turn to face him, your faces only a breath apart. He almost leans in to kiss you, but you turn to the plate again, you dip your finger into the cream and bring it to his mouth this time. He looks into your eyes and takes it in without a second thought. His tongue swirling against the tip of your finger tasting the delicious cream, his tongue feels so wet and warm. You take it out as quickly, lick off the residue and wipe it on the napkin.

He brings a hand to your jaw, his fingers splayed on the side of your face, holding you this time, so you won't move, and kisses you. You let him and lean into him. His lips are soft against yours and you can still taste the desert. The closeness, his hand tight on your jaw, tilting your head the way he wants and the smell of his cologne almost makes you forget you are still in public and you can't do what flashes through your head.

"I'm gonna be right back." you end the kiss quickly and push at his chest, making him lean back. You stand up and head to the bathroom. You turn around the corner, down the hall and reach for the door handle, when you hear footsteps right behind you, a familiar cologne smell enveloping you again. Joost hurries you inside, locks the door, and pushes you against the wall, your chest flush against his.

"What are you doing?" you are breathless from all the sudden movements.

"I couldn't wait." he leans in licking his lips, you feel his breath against your lips. He smiles looking into your eyes for a silent confirmation that you are okay, you nod and catch a glimpse of his grills. He kisses you hungrily as he presses you into the wall with his full weight. You answer the kiss trying to keep up with his pace. You planned on teasing him longer, not letting him have his way, but you are so weak and his strong hold on your hips and warmth feels so good on you. One of his hands moves to grab at the muscle of your ass through the dress, you feel him breath heavily into the kiss.

You are getting dizzy, he seems to be everywhere all at once, it all feels so good. Your hands are around his shoulders, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck. He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, you open your mouth for him, his tongue instantly finding yours, tasting you. He can't get enough of you, can't get close enough. You feel so soft under him, the prettiest needy sounds leaving your mouth in between kisses. He slowly moves his hand from your waist down to your hip, then your thigh, squeezing it, feeling the soft plush skin, earning more sounds. He doesn't have a plan, he just had to come with you here. He is happy with just a makeout session, but somewhere in between the desert and this moment he started to get hard, the pants getting uncomfortably tight. He wraps your leg around his hip to be even closer to you.

"Let me make you feel good." he tries to sound sexy, but it comes out more as a whimper.

You lean your head into the wall trying to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw leaving wet kisses on his path to your neck. With your leg wrapped around his hip, where he is holding it tight still, you can feel him hard close to your core. His other hand sneaks into the top of your dress, you are not wearing a bra, so it is easy for him to feel your chest, which he thought about all night. You moan under him, your nipple getting hard at the touch of his big hand. You feel his other hand leave your thigh and trail down your stomach closer to the slit of your dress.

"Joost." your voice is breathy. "Let's wait till we get home." his kisses on your neck slow down. You feel bad for denying him right now, but you need to stick to your plan.

He peels himself off of you, his soul coming back into his own body after what felt like intertwining with yours. "Okay" he leans in to kiss you on the lips again.

"I'm sorry." your eyes move down his crotch, his bulge visible in his suit pants.

"No, it's fine. We just have to wait here a little." his voice gentle.

"Um, I actually do need to pee." you say. This bathroom is not a big space, a sink with a big mirror and a toilet.

"Okay." he says matter of factly. "I'll turn to face the wall." he adds when he notices you raise an eyebrow. "I can't go out now like that." he points to his crotch. "Also as if I haven't seen you pee before." he says more quiet. He is right, while traveling by car with him from country to country for his concerts, you had to make some questionable stops in the middle of nowhere. Also living together for so long, you both are long past locking the door while showering, so the other can use the bathroom at the same time.

"You did this to yourself by the way." you motion to his dick.

"I know, but can you blame me?" he turns to look at the wall, his eyes closed, you are sure he is trying to think of something to make the boner go away. "Next time I will give you my nude photo at dinner." he jokes, but the idea actually plants in his mind.

You are washing your hands, fixing your hair in the mirror.

"I can't stop thinking about that polaroid. Can't believe you did that for me." his voice soft, full of love. He feels like that photo is burning through the card holder, through the pocket of his pants.

"I'd do anything for you, you know." you look at him through the mirror.

"Don't say that right now." he throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, blood rushing back to his dick.

"I have one more, if you will be a good boy, I will give it to you." you turn to him, leaning back against the sink.

He looks into your eyes, a sweet smile on your face, a contrast to the words which just came out of your mouth, makes him close the space between you, his hands on your hips again, slotting so perfectly against your body. He is convinced you were made for him how good you fit on his hands.

"Will you be a good boy?" you look up at him, placing your hands on his chest, trying to feel his pecs through the suit.

He feels like a teenager again, trying not to get hard at every word a girl he likes says.

"You are torturing me, you know?" a potential image of another photo circulating through his mind. He leans in to kiss you again, slow and soft this time. Enjoying your lips on his. He bites your lower lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make you gasp in surprise.

You lean back in his embrace, your lipstick all over his lips. You bring your thumb to clean it off.

"Want to go for a smoke?" you offer. "Might help your situation." you trace your nail slowly just under his belt.

He takes your hand in his and leads you outside, a cigarette sounds really good right now.

You go into an alleyway next to the restaurant. It is a warm evening, but you still shiver as soon as you step outside. He shrugs off his jacket, and puts it around your shoulders. He doesn't even need to look at you, already knows you will be shivering, he feels hot all over on the other hand.

He takes out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, which hangs from your shoulders. Offers you one, which you take and place it between your lips. He lights your cigarette and then for himself. Joost inhales the smoke slowly, nice feeling spreading across his chest. You watch him roll up the sleeves of his white shirt, as you bring his jacket tighter around your shoulders. It smells just like him.

"So what's the plan?" you ask him.

"I don't know, you tell me." he smiles, now more relaxed, the grills shining back at you from his wide smile. "I'm at your mercy."

"We head back to finish the desert. I hope they are not looking for us by now, thinking we ditched the bill." you say.

"And what if we do ditch it?" he blows the smoke up into the night air. "Run away. Just me and you."

"It's always just me and you." you step closer to him, placing your hand on his exposed forearm, moving further up to play with his tie. He looks so good, the rolled up sleeves revealing his tattoos, which you always had a soft spot for.

He takes a slow drag, blows the smoke away from your face, even though you are also smoking. Then leans in, putting your hair behind your ear and off your shoulder, "Such a tease tonight." his mouth right next to your ear, "Do you want me to bend you over right here and take you against the wall?"

Your eyes go wide, suddenly the night breeze is not enough to regulate your temperature. He straightens up to stand tall in front of you, looking down at you. A surprised chuckle comes out of you. The real answer is: You do, but you will never admit that to him. Not now at least.

"When did you get so bold, mr. Klein?" you are still holding his tie loosely between your fingers. His cocky stage persona taking the light now, you love it.

"Learned from the best." he says and you try to pull him closer to you by the tie.

"You are right. Let's head back for the desert." he doesn't give in to your pull. Both of you playing this cat and mouse game, which makes the end result all the more exciting. You giggle and lead him inside by the tie, dropping it, as soon as you walk in. He still follows you blindly, as if bound by an invisible string.

You finish the desert, he pays the bill and you can't get home soon enough. His hand is trying to trail up further and further up your thigh, you keep swatting it away playfully.

"Be patient." you whisper to him. "We can do anything you want when we are back home." you make a promise to him. He loosens the tie around his neck at your words.

You open the door, he follows right behind, you can feel his heat behind your back. You turn around, facing him, now walking backwards slowly towards the wall, he is following you a few steps behind. You lean forward to take off your heels, kicking them to the side. relieved to finally fully touch the floor. Without the added inches, you are even shorter now, having to look up higher to face him. He is walking you into the wall like he is hunting a prey. You beckon him closer with your finger, as a giggle escapes you, sparkles dancing in your eyes.

Your back hits the wall, as he closes the distance between you, his eyes fixated on yours. You take a good look at him, a smile on his lips reveals the shiny grills, rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt make his shoulders even wider, the pants fit him so nice. He looks incredible, you should go out all dressed up more often. You take his tie in your hands.

"Come here." you bring him closer to you by the tie. He leans in crashing his lips into yours, a groan escapes his lips, which you can feel through your whole body. It excites you even more.

His hand is on your neck, applying a slight pressure, his fingers splayed on your pulse point, under your jaw, which makes you moan into his mouth, a sound so delicious to him, he drinks it all in. His hand feels so big and warm on you, you start to feel a pulse between your legs. You let go of his tie, when he uses the hand on your neck to turn your head the way he wants to deepen the kiss. His other hand grabs a handfull of your ass. Every time he is close to you he feels like it's not enough, wants to envelop you whole, there is so much space for love in him and it is all for you. You make him dizzy with just your presence, your perfume, your soft skin, the rapid pulse he can feel under his hand, it all makes him the happiest man on earth.

You break apart gasping for air, his hair messed up from your hands running through them. His lips are swollen, stained with your lipstick, you try to wipe it off, but end up smearing it even further, he follows your hand pushing his face against it, craving your touch. He kisses your palm, your wrist, your hand so much smaller in his. He takes both your wrists in his one hand and hold them above your head.

"So beautiful." he says quietly. It's just you two in the apartment, but he wants those words to belong just to you. His hand traces from your jaw down your chest, stomach, slowly tracing the curve of your waist, while you can't move, your wrists pinned above your head. He is eating you with his eyes, enjoying the view. He sees you every day, but it is still never enough. You try to wriggle your wrists.

"Joost. Please" you whine, getting impatient.

He leans in closer. "Get on your knees for me, liefje." he lets go of your wrists, you immediately follow his request, your knees hitting the floor, you can't wait to get your hands on him. You lift your eyes, while undoing his belt, slowly moving to the zipper. He is looking down at you, his hands softly petting your hair.

You palm him through his underwear, he is already half hard. He moans a sound of satisfaction finally feeling you close to him. You lean in to kiss his still clothed length.

"Go on, baby." you leave one last kiss right on his tip, before taking off his pants and boxers. His dick springs free, he feels so heavy in your hand. You place your other hand on his thigh, steadying yourself. You move closer placing featherlight kisses along his length, while he makes a makeshift ponytail with your hair to get it out of the way. You lick a long stripe from the base to the tip, spitting on it, mixing it with his pre-cum, now your hand slides so much better along him. You keep moving your hand up and down while looking at him through your lashes, his mouth is open, slight moans escaping his mouth, but you hear him. You cup his balls and his head falls back, you massage them pulling more sounds from him.

You feel him pull your hair tighter. "Open your mouth for me, schat." you oblige, sticking out your tongue. He takes his dick in his hand, slaps it on your tongue and pushes in. He lets you set the pace, but still keeps a strong hold on your head. You try to steady your breathing to take more of him. He feels your nails on his thigh, secretly loves that feeling, it feels grounding when he feels like floating away from the warm and wet feeling of your mouth, bringing him so much pleasure. You keep sucking him, hollowing your mouth, following the pulsing vein with your tongue.

You breathe steadily through your nose, looking up at him, watching the expressions on his face, when he starts to buck his hips into your mouth.

"Fuck, baby. Feels so- good." his voice is low. "Can I-" his words are not coming out properly, he is so lost in you. But you know what he wants, you hum a confirmation around him. He puts one hand on the wall behind you, the other hand on the side of your head as he starts thrusting harder. Tears are forming at the corners of your eyes. Drool coming out down your chin and around his shaft, your nose hits his pubic hair, and he keeps your head there moaning loudly. He is so close suddenly, you feel him twitch in your mouth.

He pulls you off of him, you try to catch your breath, wiping your mouth. You reach out to touch him again already missing the heavy feeling of him in your throat, but he brings you up.

"Let me have a taste of you too." he says quickly pulling up his pants back on not bothering to do the belt properly, when you are face to face with him. He kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue, a reminder what you just did. You keep kissing as he walks you into the living room, blindly stumbling towards the couch, but he catches you. His hands steady on you, always holding you and you trust him completely.

He spins you around, bending you over the back of the couch. He presses himself behind you, kissing your shoulder, his hands quickly moving to the top of your dress

"I need you so bad." he kisses along your spine, moving lower and lower. He bunches up your dress along your hips, exposing you to him.

"You have me." you say, turning your head to look at him, holding yourself up on the couch.

He exhales loudly, as he squeezes your ass, only a thong separating you from him. "I've been thinking about this all day" he says kneeling down behind you. He is so impatient, so pent up and so inlove with you, he feels everything at the same time. He touches you through your underwear.

"So wet." you feel his breath in between your legs. You've never been with someone who loves giving head as much as him, he would put your pleasure above his own any day.

After continuing to touch you through the fabric, feeling your folds, hearing your impatient frustrated moans spurs him on, so he finally moved your underwear to the side and dives in immediately. He pushes you further into the couch with a firm hand on your lower back, you arch for him to have better access.

"The prettiest pussy and all for me." He spreads you with his two fingers and licks a long stripe from your clit to the hole, he feels it clench under his tongue. He is obsessed with how sensitive you are, your taste the most delicious to him. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard, you buck your hips into him. You were already getting close by giving him head and all the pretty sounds you were able to pull from him, you feel like you won't last long.

He continues to make out with your cunt, his eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed, listening to every little sound you make, focusing on what makes you twitch the most, moan the loudest. He moves his head from side to side, which makes you arch even further.

"Please, Joost, don't stop. I'm almost there" you plead to him.

You feel him smile against your folds, it is so messy, you feel your thighs are wet when he pulls back and starts do draw fast wide circles around your folds, the sounds your pussy is making would embarrass you, if you weren't so lost in the building climax you feel in your lower stomach, pulsing through your whole body, your mind blurry, you keep repeating his name over and over, which makes him impossibly hard. You see him move his own hand between his legs, palming himself through the pants, groaning into your core.

"I need you inside of me. Please." you manage to say.

He would love nothing more in that moment, he stands up, pulls down his pants and underwear in one movement. His tip an angry shade of red, balls heavy, you turn your head forward, moving your hips closer to him, inviting him in.

"Quickly" you whine.

He is holding your hip with one hand, while he holds his dick in the other hand, slowly moving it through your folds, collecting your slick.

"Can you go again after?" he asks, his voice breathy.

"Can you?" you turn to him, placing your hand over his own on your hip, to feel more of him.

He chuckles. His tip catches your hole, pushing in. You both inhale at the same time. "You are in for a fun time today" he says, as he pushes in further, you are so wet, it is so easy for him. He bends over to be closer to you.

His heart runs like an engine as he bullies his drooling cock up against your soft cunt. His words close to your ear, nothing but filthy praise, about how you are perfect for him, that you were made for him, he loves you. His hips meet yours in a fast pace behind you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. As soon as he moves his hand to draw circles around your clit, you scream out his name and gush all over him, squeezing him impossibly tight, which makes him lose his pace. It triggers his own release, after a few more pumps, you feel his cum paint your walls, there is so much, it starts to trickle down your thighs. He collapses on top of you, barely able to catch himself putting his hands on either side of you on the couch. His white shirt is sticking to his skin with how sweaty he is.

You feel he is still not fully soft inside of you. The stamina he has today makes you excited, because you are also ready for more.

You wince when he pulls out.

"Was that not too rough? Sorry, we didn't even make it to the bedroom." he asks, while his eyes are trained between your legs, it is so wet and shiny with both of your releases. He is almost hypnotised.

"I can't even catch my breath still. I don't think we could have possibly made it to the bedroom." you say and you both laugh.

He helps you stand up, you stand in front of him, moving your hands behind you undoing the zipper and slipping out of your dress, leaving it on the floor. He watches you intently, your naked figure in front of him. It is dark in the room, only a street light coming from the window and low light from the hall illuminating you.

"You are so beautiful." he repeats the words he says to you every day, no matter if you are in your pyjamas or full make up and expensive dress, if he was a painter he would paint you and only you. He gives you so many compliments, you started to believe them, boosting your self confidence, which you are thankful for.

"It is your turn now." you undo his tie, throwing it on top of your dress. He starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, while you move towards the bedroom.

You are both completely naked when you fall on the bed. You lay on the pillows, he slowly crawls on top of you, kissing your calfs, your thighs, as you spread your legs apart, giving him more space. He continues kissing his way up, your stomach, stopping on your chest, focusing on your tits. He looks into your eyes, when he takes your nipple into his mouth, playing with it with his tongue, sucking in. You arch your back, whining and moving your hands to his head, holding him close. His hand moves to touch your other boob, squeezing it, twisting and pulling the nipple, enjoying your moans. You feel so good in his mouth. He moves to the other nipple, changing hands to play with the shiny wet nipple from his spit.

You start lifting your hips to meet his, his cock lays heavy on your lower stomach. You pull on his hair to get his attention, he moves his hands in between your legs, you are so warm and wet at his touch.

He looks up at you, letting go of your nipple, moving further up closer to your face.

"You ready to go again?" you ask him, placing your hand on the side of his face, wiping the residue of you on his chin.

He kisses you, and you melt under him immediately. His lips ever so soft capturing yours.

"Yes." he says sitting up. "Are you?" he moves his hands from your neck slowly down to your chest, feeling your fast heartbeat, matching his own, down to your lower stomach. His thumb presses on your clit, your hips lift on their own, a whine escaping your lips, still overstimulated, but it feels so good at the same time. He sees you clench around nothing, waiting for him.

"Don't tease, Joost. Put it in." you reach out to touch his cock. You move your hand up and down his shaft, but he takes control again. He holds himself by the base, leaning in closer, he aligns your hips, putting his cock onto your lower stomach, the tip almost reaching your bellybutton, seeing how deep it will go in. The sight makes his breath catch. The tip leaves a wet spot on your skin.

"I love you so much." he says as he finally reaches your hole, sliding in. He moves your thighs further apart, holding them. He watches your face, your expressions helping him set the pace, seeing what makes you moan louder and what movements make you clench around him. He builds the thrusts around your pleasure. Your arms cling to his on your thighs.

"Feels so good" your head falls back on the pillows.

"Look at me, baby" he moves your head back to look at him. "I want to see you when you cum on my dick." each word is followed by a harder thrust. One of his hands moves to touch your nipple, letting go of your thighs. The other hand draws fast circles around your clit. He rolls his hips just the way you like, you feel your climax envelope your entire body, from your toes to the tips of your fingers. He lets you ride out your high, your hips moving on him, his hands moving softly on your sides. His dick keeping you full.

"That's it baby. That's it. So good for me" he praises you.

You come to your senses and feel him pull out. You start to flip on your stomach, thinking he wants to change positions.

"No, wait." he stops you, laying you on your back. His hands come to your chest, squeezing your boobs together. You are confused for a second, following his gaze on your chest, when you realize.

"Do you want to fuck my tits?" you ask. You could tell he wanted to do it for awhile, but he wouldn't bring it up for some reason. You wish he would believe your words, when you say you would let him do anything. You trust him completely.

"Yes. Would that be okay?" he asks meeting your eyes unsure.

"Yes. Come here" you push your boobs together. He can't believe the sight in front of him. He gets even harder than before. He moves his hand to your pussy, covering his hand in your release, when he brings it in the valley between your boobs, making it slippery.

"You are so nasty." you say. He always loves it messy, even prefers to cum on your stomach or chest, spreading it after, but truly you don't mind.

"And you love it." he says and lets his spit fall on your chest, holding your boobs together, making it even more wet. He plays with your nipples, twisting them in between his pointer finger and thumb, as he moves to straddle you closer, making sure not to put his weight on you.

You help him hold your boobs, when he lines himself in the valley of your breasts. He tries to move, his head falling back with a loud groan, it feels so good. You watch his face contorted in pleasure. He keeps moving his hips, as you squeeze your boobs tighter around him.

"Oh fuck, liefje." one of his hands move to the backboard of the bed for leverage. You open your mouth catching his tip when he thrusts in. He moans at that, his mouth agape, looking down at you.

"Do that again." you oblige and keep your mouth open. He keeps thrusting in and out, his tip staying in your mouth. You move your hand to cup his balls, feeling the tender skin. You make sure to place your tongue on his slit on his next thrust.

"Feels so good. So good." his brain is a mush at this point, he starts to chase his high, moving faster. Your neck is getting tired, so he holds you by the back of your head.

"I'm so close, gonna cum." he warns you, in case you want him to move away. But you hum around him, sucking him harder. He shuts his eyes shut, after a few more thrusts he cums in your mouth, but pulls out and also finishes on your chest. His own chest is contracting in shallow breaths, he plops down next to you on the bed, his legs can't hold him anymore. You feel his warm release on your chest, which he can't stop looking at and starts massaging it into your tits.

"Joost." you whine. "You are such a freak." you swat his hands away laughing.

"And what if I did this?" he leans in quickly and puts your nipple into his mouth, feeling it wet with his spit and his own release. You squeal at feeling, pulling his hair.

"The biggest freak ever." a giggle escapes you. "Let's get in the shower."

After you get back all clean, you show him the other polaroids you took, but didn't end up choosing for the final surprise. He inspects every single one, commenting on what he likes about each one and makes you promise you will wear the underwear set you wore for it tomorrow.

He is already planning on giving you a nude polaroid photo of himself to match yours.

[222col]

second best | part two

★ patrick zweig x reader ★ you're after revenge, wanting to give patrick a taste of his own medicine, the question is, how long will it last? ★ 5.3k ★ 18+ | cw: smut: unprotected sex, choking, spanking ★ an: part one | take a shot every time u see the word thwaccckkkk

"you gonna win for me tomorrow?" patrick mumbles against your skin, his lips against your neck, arms around your waist as his hips buck up into you. you'd made it to the final of the tournament, your first final of a slam, in only your second pro season. biting down on his earlobe, legs wrapped around his waist, groaning into his ear. "yeah? gonna be a good girl and win for me?" he repeats, causing another moan from you. "you're so beautiful when you play, can't wait to watch you." it's as though the only time you and patrick are truly honest with each other is when you're fucking each other, drunk off the sex, too fucked out to play along with any games that exist between you. you can barely form words to respond to patrick, not that you'd need to, he can understand you without them. he mumbles more praise into your ear as he finishes inside you, panting against your skin. "my perfect girl." he whispers, placing open mouth kisses to your shoulder. my perfect girl. you're not even his girl, not really. immediately sliding off him, starting to get dressed as he attempts to pull you back onto the bed with him. "i need to prepare for tomorrow." you mumble, pulling your t-shirt over your head. "why are you being so bitchy these past few days?" he pokes, leaning back on his palms. "you've barely looked at me if i'm not literally inside you." you're biting back your words, holding in your anger that's so close to bubbling over. waiting desperately to chew him out, curse at him, scream every word you can think of at him, but you don't. you simply stand, walk over to the door, and tell him goodbye.

you'd vowed to yourself that your time in new york was the end of your time with patrick, as soon as the us open was over, so were you and him. you'd come to your senses after getting home the night of the quarter finals. you wanted revenge. you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, make him sweat. show him what he was doing to you was wrong, that you deserved better than second best. it might be slightly immoral, but patrick had pushed you past limits you didn't know you had. you knew the easy thing would be just telling his girlfriend, but that was almost too easy. you wanted to see him worked up, wanted to see how far he'd go denying his feelings for you. how long he could go before snapping.

6-3. first set. 5-4. second set. you were one game away from lifting the trophy. one game away from your first grand slam title. 40-15. one more point. thwaccckkkk! the ball bounces onto the other side of the net and straight past your opponent, feeling yourself fall to the ground as the crowd erupts. letting a scream fall from your lips, pulling yourself back up to your feet. patrick's the first you see, stood with your team, wide grin plastered on his face as you walk over to shake your opponents hand. after you collect your trophy, doing all your press junkets, you head into the dressing room. seeing patrick sat there, on the bench waiting for you. "congrats, champ." he sits there smirking at you as you drop your bag to the floor. you walk straight over to him, standing between his legs as he wraps his arms around you. "i'm all sweaty, get off." you mumble, despite his grip only tightening. "no, i love it." he grins, his face pushing into your stomach, kissing the fabric that clings to your skin. "so proud of you." he whispers, inhaling your scent as his hands move down to your ass, underneath your skirt, massaging the flesh through your shorts. his face turns up, looking up to you as you stand before him, ripping your tight top off your body. breathing in deeply, before patrick stands, letting you peel his t-shirt from his body. pushing you up against the wall, his lips attaching to yours. his hands roaming your body, pushing your skort down your legs as you move your feet out from the pool of fabric. "let me look after you, winner." he mumbles into your skin of your neck, undoing his jeans and pushing them down his legs.

it's messy, desperate, the speed in which yours and his underwear are thrown behind you. his big hands lifting you up, laying you down on the bench, his legs either side of it. spitting in his hands, wiping it up and down his length. his hands gripping into your hips, pulling them up to meet him as he pushes himself into you. your back arched at the sensation, choking back moans as he fucks himself into you. his signature smirk across his face, seeing you squirm under his touch. his nails digging into your skin, skin slapping against yours. your already weak body losing more energy, letting patrick take complete control of you. "that's my good girl, let me take care of you." he hums, biting his lip, keeping his groans stuck in his throat. his eyes are glued to you, watching yours roll back into your head as he lifts your hips up even higher. "feel so fucking good baby." he mumbles praise, bringing your legs up to rest against his chest. pressing wet kisses to your ankles. your hands gripping the wooden panels of the bench, head flung back as a loud whimper leaves your mouth. "shush," patrick hums, chuckling almost. "you're gonna get us caught, princess." he leans forward, contorting your body as he moves one of his hands over your mouth. your brows are furrowed, looking up into his eyes as he pounds into you harder. your mouth agape under his calloused hand, his fingers tight on your cheekbones. his grip on your hip moves to bring his hand to your cunt, smirking as he watches you squirm once his thumb starts circling your clit. he loves you like this, a whimpering, sweaty mess under his touch. it's his favourite sight in the world, watching you unravel under him. all his over thoughts disappear the second you're alone with him. he'd live in his state if humanly possible.

your body jolts, writhing under his touch as you fall over the line. moans slipping through his fingers as he works you through your high. his head flinging back, shooting his load into you as he feels you clench around him. "holy fuck." he groans, gripping onto your ankles as he lets his cum drip down from you. both whimpering at the loss of sensation as he pulls out of you, letting your legs drop down to your sides. "jesus, that was fucking insane." he mutters, chuckling slightly. "i know." you smile back, walking over to the shower to clean yourself up as he gets dressed. walking back out in a new skort and matching top, zipping up your jacket as you pick up your bags. "that was the last time." you state, lips flatlined as you look to his position by the lockers. patrick's brows furrowing, kicking himself off the metal lockers to strand up straight. "what?" he questions, his mouth slightly agape. shrugging your shoulders as you open the door to the dressing room. "i'm not second best." patrick's speechless, watching you leave. his body slumping down onto the floor, his head flinging back into the lockers with force. "fuck!"

it's a month before you see patrick again, at the next tournament you're both competing at. a stream of unanswered texts flood your phone, along with a collection of drunk voicemails left by him. swept away by the attention winning your first slam, your focus on your tennis for the time being. half way across the world, you check into your hotel, readying yourself for the players mixer being held. walking into the hotel's function room, the hall already awash with players as you strut over to the bar. "will you just fucking talk to me?" you hear the familiar voice in your ear the second he reaches you. "fuck off, patrick." you murmur, before ordering yourself a drink. "you're killing me." he groans, his voice needy. "why won't you reply to any of my texts?" he questions, as you stand by a table, holding your drink in your hands, not looking to him. patrick's following you around like a puppy, desperate for you to just look at him, let alone reply. when you finally do, look at him, his breath catches in his throat. your eyes are soft, despite the rest of your face being utterly unimpressed by him. "i told you. it's over, patrick. leave it alone." you grumble, your words like knives to his chest. "go cry to your girlfriend." you spit, bringing your glass up your lips, looking away from him. "i don't have a girlfriend." he returns, leaning on the table, facing you. he's drinking in every move you make, every time you blink, inhaling your scent after a month away from you.

that was a new development. you bite back any form of reaction to patrick's words, just placing your drink back down on the table. he opens his mouth to speak again but he's cut off by another player entering the conversation. "hey, i'm jack. can I buy you a drink?" he smiles to you, leaning on his elbow to face you. patrick rolls his eyes, watching your body contort to face the voice beckoning you. "she's already got one." patrick mumbles, before you cut him off and nod your head to the brunette on the other side of you. "yeah, i'd like that." patrick grumbles, rolling his eyes as he watches you walk over to the bar, leaning his back on the table, glancing down to your half empty drink left beside him. he thought things would be easier, seeing you again. thought you'd come running back into his arms, especially now he'd dumped his girlfriend. but you don't. you spit at him, crush him more than the month of unanswered texts did. he sighs, picking up the remainder of your drink, downing it all as he watches you laugh and lean into the guy you're with. he spends the night sulking, drinking, watching you. pushing away the people who attempt to talk to him, too focused on watching your interactions. you're hanging onto jack's arm by the end of the night, letting him lead you upstairs, to his room. all patrick can do is watch. watch you slip further away from his grasp, while drowning his sorrows in more alcohol, that he won't be thankful for tomorrow during the first round of press.

patrick's there, always there, wherever you are the whole weekend of press and promo. following you around, just to see you. even if it means seeing you flirt and shower men that aren't him in your attention. he's lost, dumfounded on how to act if you aren't with him. desperate just to hear your velvety voice, see your lips upturn in reaction to his words, not someone else. he's consumed with need, attempting to distract himself with his tennis, not that it's working. he's panting, sweat dripping from his body on the practise courts when you walk out. seeing jack on the other side of you, carrying both sets of racket bags. throwing the ball down onto the floor a few times, breathing in before serving it across the court, met with a nod of approval by his coach. his eyes coast over to you, setting up your things, ready to play against jack. you've replaced him. you're doing everything you used to with patrick, but with another man. you don't need him anymore. it doesn't help patrick's ego that jack's ranking is much higher than his own. patrick attempts to carry on with his training, ignore the distraction of you only two courts away, but he's struggling. "get it together, patrick. c'mon." his coach presses, shouting over instructions as balls keep flying his way. it's almost impossible to concentrate on anything that isn't you. especially when he hears your grunts as you hit the ball over the net. trying to snap himself out of it, out of the very impure thoughts he's thinking. thwaccckkkk! patrick serves the ball with all his frustrations, receiving eyes on him as he does. "not bad, zweig." you half smile to him across the courts. he swears his heart stops beating.

you'd both made it through the round of 32, you're sitting in the recovery pool a couple hours after the match when patrick walks in. you don't notice the door open, only noticing his presence when his smirk forms in front of you, slipping into the small pool, sitting opposite you. "i see you're enjoying the tournament." patrick teases, his arms spread over the edges of the pool. "it's only just started." you return, pulling your legs closer to your body, away from his. "i meant more the company." he pushes, that signature smirk not leaving his lips. he wants to push you, tease you, how you're pushing him. "not that it's any of your business." you scoff, titling your head over to where he sits in the water, trying to read his expression. his hands raise in defence as he sucks on his teeth. "are you gonna be like this with me for the rest of the tour?" his tone becoming more serious as he gulps. his heart rate quickening, realising how close your body is, in such little clothing. he hadn't been alone with you for over a month, his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek, holding back his urge to reach out and touch you. you don't respond, just rolling your eyes and looking away from him. "tell me you don't want me and i'll leave you alone." the words leave patrick's lips before he can even realise what he's said. his stomach in knots the second he realises what he's proposed, he wouldn't be able to stay away even if you did tell him that. "i don't want you." the words hit his chest before his ears, his gaze on you intense as his bottom lip is moves between his teeth. patrick's brows furrow, just looking at you as his body floods with emotion. "you don't mean that." he chokes out. all you do is stare back at him, your face unreadable as you do. the water splashes onto your chest as patrick abruptly exists the pool, wrapping the towel around his waist as he looks down to you, your eyes lifting to look up to him. your gaze still soft, as it always is with patrick. "whatever." he mumbles, pushing the door open as he scrambles out of the room.

you distract yourself with tennis, or attempt to. lying to yourself that you don't want patrick. that you don't want to run to him, to be with him, to be his. if it wasn't tennis you used as a distraction, it was jack. he knew your head was elsewhere, so was his, so it worked. you were making your way through the tournament, into the round of 16, as was patrick. a lot of eyes obviously on you after winning the us open, your ranking moving up as well as the media circus that followed you. 'new tennis power couple?' was the article you were sent, with pictures of you and jack attached. rolling your eyes as you scrolled mindlessly through the so called news site. laughing about it with jack as you joined up with him for lunch, hearing the whispers around the hall as you sat together. patrick sat alone, pushing around the food on his plate, seeing the updates come out about you and jack. he should have known not to believe it, he knows how the media can be. you're barely even touching jack in the pictures, he doesn't know you like patrick does. but it doesn't stop the pit in his stomach as he watches the two of you together. it's only when he's alone in his hotel room that he texts you, adding another message to the number of texts he'd sent over the course of the month.

patrick: i know i said i'd back off but just tell me it's not true

sighing at notification on your phone, the bright screen lighting up the empty room. you try to fight off the urge to reply, knowing exactly what he's referencing. eventually, your head wins, turning the phone off and going to downstairs to the hotel lobby, your next match wasn't until the day after tomorrow. the read receipt highlighted on patrick's phone as he sits on the chat. throwing the phone across the room after a while of sitting there waiting. after throwing a shirt on his body, he wandered down to the hotel lobby. you're already down there, sat alone with a drink in hand. patrick quietly orders himself a drink and sits down across from you. "please, just talk to me." he sighs, leaning closer to you over the table. "patrick, i-" your defences are down, too tired, too frustrated. "i know i hurt you, okay? i'll never forgive myself for that, but i miss you." he babbles, his hand inching closer towards yours. "i'm so sorry, i want you, okay, just you." he whispers, his words coming out more like sobs than fully formed sentences. you're about to open your mouth to reply, when jack appears in front of you. you'd texted him to meet you down here. looking to patrick before back up to jack, standing up to kiss his lips. it was a low blow, you knew that, but patrick deserved it. he'd ruined your self-respect, you earned your right to serve his karma to him. patrick doesn't say anything, just watches. watches your hands wrap in his hair, watches your body melt against his, watches his heart get ripped out of his chest. you make eye contact with patrick as you push jack away towards the elevators, his face emotionless.

it was fate. horrible, twisted fate that patrick would draw jack in the quarter finals. everyone was backing jack to win, he was on paper the better player. more pragmatic, less chaotic than patrick. but patrick knew he had a point to prove. his eyes immediately found you in the stands at he walks out onto the court, his smirk present as he sets down his things. you're sat with a few of the friends you've made during the tour, barely able to focus on the conversation around you, eyes darting between patrick and jack sitting before you on the court. thwaccckkkk! your nails are half bitten off by the end of the first set, your heart in your chest at the end of the second. 6-2, 6-4. one set each. patrick was playing more erratically than usual, his curls slick to his forehead, sweat dripping down his chin. thwaccckkkk! patrick's eyes dart to you. "game, set, match, zweig." patrick's body slumps to the floor, his arms resting on his knees, catching his breath before walking across the court to shake jack's hand. his eyes dart up to you again, to your empty seat. his eyes search for you, catching a glimpse of you exiting the stands. slumping down onto the floor again, thinking how it didn't mean anything. his win, to you, met nothing.

it's 10pm when you hear the knocking on your hotel door, jumping up from your place on the bed, opening the door to patrick. ready to close the door on him before he barges in. "i fucking won, and you just leave?" his voice already raised, facing you as you close the door. "so what?" you scoff, arms crossed against your chest. "i won, i beat him." his tone angry, his chest already pounding. "i didn't realise you were playing for my attention." your words are sharp, cutting through to him. "of course i fucking was!" patrick shouts, his body only two foot away from your own. "everything i do is to get your attention." his voice still raised. your lips are flat, just staring at him, but eyes still soft. "you are killing me." he almost whispers. "patrick, this was never going to end well, just look at how we started." your voice starts to increase in volume, fed up of this wounded puppy display patrick is showing. "i don't want it to end at all." you're both shouting now, not caring about who can hear through the hotel walls. "this is fucking ridiculous, i'm not your girlfriend, never fucking was." you spit your words out, arms dropping to your sides. "i'm not the only one who was cheating, you know? or did you forget that when you jumped on your high horse?" patrick's words are pointed, his body stepping closer towards you. "yeah, but i actually dumped my boyfriend! for you, patrick!"

he doesn't know how, he doesn't remember telling his body to move, but he definitely doesn't mind that it did. his hands are cupped around your face, his lips smashed into yours. you push yourself off of him, looking into his eyes before immediately crashing your lips back onto his. it's messy, tongues slipping over each others, your hands grabbing at the fabric around his waist. "tell me you want me." patrick mumbles into your mouth, his hands moving to grip at the hairs on your scalp. a grumble falls from you, your tongue pushing further into patrick's mouth before he pulls your head away by your hair. forcing your eyes to look to his, his fist balled around your hair. "tell me you fucking want me." you want to punch the smirk off his face, your breath heavy as you stare into his half-lidded eyes. "i want you." he pulls your head back further. "tell me again." your mouth agape, a quiet whimper escaping you. "i want you." you moan out, his grip loosening as his lips attach to yours again, only parting to pull your t-shirt over your head. "good girl." he whispers, as your fingers pull his shirt off his body. it's moments before patrick reaches down, hooking your thighs under his grip, lifting you up and walking over to the bed. his lips only detaching from yours when he throws your body down onto the mattress. patrick's eyes are dark as he crawls over your body, his lips kissing up from your stomach before he reaches your neck. propped up on your elbows as his mouth nips and sucks at the base of your neck, quiet hums of pleasure from you rush to his ears like it's the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "missed your skin." he mumbles against your jaw, wrapping his lips around your earlobe. "shut up." you groan, your head angling to expose more of your neck to him.

"oh, you wanna be a little brat do you?" his evil smirk shows again, fingers digging into the sides of your wrists as he pins them up above your head. he manoeuvres to capture your wrists with one of his hands as the other pushes your shorts down to your knees, slipping his hand into your panties, groaning as he feels your wetness. using his knee to push your legs apart, your shorts bunching at your ankles as you free your feet from the pool of fabric. "so wet for me already." he teases, his fingers sliding through your folds as he starts circling your clit. patrick's mouth sucking on the skin of your collarbone as you struggle trying to free your arms from his grip. all he does is push your wrists further into the mattress, his fingers digging into your skin. his eyes glare into yours as he watches every expression you make, not daring to look away as the pace of his fingers speeds up. "mmm, so close," you mumble, your back arching before patrick rips his fingers away, letting go of your wrists at the same time. "what the fuck." you grumble, a slight pout on your lips, only causing an evil chuckle from patrick. "you don't get to cum until i'm inside you." he smirks, ripping your panties down your legs before standing up to pull his shorts down his legs along with his underwear. "you're so fucking annoying." you continue complaining as patrick crawls over your body again, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "why are you so desperate to fuck me then?"

your mouth opens to reply, words inching out as patrick's hand wraps around your throat. "shut the fuck up." he smirks, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck as you fight for breath. your hand moves to grip as his wrist, watching as patrick lets a glob of spit drip from his mouth down onto your cunt. sitting himself up on his knees, your thighs resting against his as his free hand drifts to rub his cock against you. smearing his spit into your wetness, teasing your entrance as he pushes himself in an inch. your head pushing back into the mattress, eyes fluttering closed as you attempt to ask him for more. "look at me." he orders, his eyes dark and half-lidded as you eventually look to him. "good girl." he groans as he slides himself in fully. patrick finally removes his hand from your throat, moving to squeeze the flesh of your thighs as he fucks you without mercy. his nails cutting into your skin as moans echo around the room, his body falling on top of yours as you clench around him. his forehead pressed against yours, open mouthed kisses pressed to your jaw. your arms wrapped around his body, clawing at his shoulder blades as your legs move to trap his body against yours. sucking bruises onto patrick's neck as his hips smash against yours repeatedly. he groans as he slides out you, flipping your body over and pulling your ass up against him. barely being able to register what's happened by the time his cock slides into you again, scrambling to prop yourself up onto all fours. thwaccckkkk! the sound of his open palm against your ass sends a shiver down your arching spine, as loud moans escape your throat. patrick spanks the flesh of your ass again before grabbing a handful of your hair, pulling your chest up closer to his body. patrick's grunts fill your ears as the hand on your ass reaches below you, his fingers drawing circles against your clit. his teeth nipping at the skin on your shoulder as he pulls you closer, your back flush against his chest. patrick can tell you're close to the edge, feeling the way you clench around him and the volume of your moans getting louder.

"cum for me baby, be a good little girl and cum for me." patrick mumbles against your skin, licking the skin of your neck. his words force you to let go, an almost scream leaving your lips as your body nearly crumbles at the sensation. patrick's grip on your hair keeping you upright, humming into your neck. he lets you ride out your high before pushing your chest down into the mattress, his big hands gripping at the sides of your body under your arms as he fastens his pace. your face near enough buried in the mattress as you turn to try and look up to him behind you, patrick groaning louder as you do. "so fucking pretty like this." he murmurs, nails digging into your flesh as he slams his hips against your ass once more, filling your insides with his load. "jesus fucking christ." patrick groans as his body falls flat on top of you, panting as he places sloppy kisses to your back. feeling his load start to drip down you as he slides out and falls to the side of you.

your bodies are bruised and scratched, staring into each others eyes as you both attempt to return your breathing to a normal pace. patrick leans over, kissing your lips sweetly as you manoeuvre onto your side. "i take it that means you and jack aren't a thing, right? or did you just cheat on another boyfriend?" patrick almost laughs at himself, as you swat his arm. "you're such an asshole." you laugh, shaking your head at him. this is what he'd missed. your laugh, the way you looked at him, you being the only person in the world who could put him in his place. the way you put up with him, how you always knew what to say. moving to brush his curls off his forehead, letting your fingers rest against his cheek, slowly caressing his skin. "i meant what i said, that i just want you." patrick whispers, his hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "i know." you smile, your thumb still rubbing back and forth on his face. the silence is comfortable, eyes locked on each other, peaceful. waking up the next morning, it's as though everything has fallen back into place. patrick joins you training, returns to his regular position opposite you on the practise courts. there's no conversations about your relationship, patrick's too scared to ask. too scared to question, he doesn't want to risk pushing you away again.

thwaccckkkk! sitting in the box with patrick's coaches and the rest of his team, watching patrick play in his first final of his professional career. you'd unfortunately been knocked out during the semi-finals, meaning the rest of your time during the tournament was spent helping patrick prepare. you could tell patrick was nervous, despite no one else picking up on it. to the average eye, he was calm, playing as chaotically controlled as usual. sweat was dripping from every inch of his skin, his black tank stuck to his chest as he rolled the racket between his hands. patrick was a set up against his opponent, he'd won six games to four. his eyes glance over to the box, listening to his coach's advice, letting his eyes wander to you as he does. the silence is almost eery, not that he wasn't used to it during matches, but the silence before serves is when he really considers his surroundings. he's in the final, his first final. he's a set up, he could actually win this. you're a wreck, anxiously watching from the stands as patrick wins another game. a smirk rushes onto your face, watching patrick hit a tweener, to win the match. jumping up to your feet with his team as the crowd erupts. it's as though patrick doesn't register it, until he looks at you. his racket drops from his hands, falling onto his knees, letting the wash of emotion rush over him. he shakes his opponent's hand before security bring him through the crowd to his team. engulfed in hugs by his coaches, shouting how proud they are of him before he escapes their grip. moving down to you, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you up to the air. "i knew you'd win." you giggle into his ear as he places you down onto the ground, his teethy grin not leaving his face. his hands stay wrapped around you as his lips crash into yours, in the middle of the crowd, in front of cameras from every angle. "i can't believe you just did that." you smile, blush creeping onto your cheeks as you feel every set of eyes on you. "what? i can't kiss my girl after winning my first title?" patrick chuckles, hands pulling you flush against him. "oh, your girl, huh?" you laugh, hands snaking around his neck, his lips grazing yours as he speaks. "you know you're mine."

[evnseokz]

☆ wonbin and eating you out

pairing: down bad bf! wonbin x f. reader

contents: clingy wonbin, eating out, kissing, nipple play if u squint, body worship, wonbin is incredibly down bad for u and clingy af

synopsis: wonbin who’s absolutely down bad for u and is an absolute MUNCH also a fiend for eating u out like his plump lips on your core GODDD

just a drabble… (w.c. 889)

i imagine wonbin as the type of boyfriend to be so down bad and an absolute MUNCH for you. all he wants is to worship every fiber of your being. his love language is physical touch and so he always has to have his hands on you. whether his arm is snaked around your waist or his hand is in yours. he always has to be touching you.

you can’t even stand at the stove and cook without him having his arms wrapped around your waist as he presses himself against your back. for a lack of better word, he’s clingy. but you love him for it. “binnie, i’m trying to cook” you’d smile, he nestles his chin on your shoulder, angling his head to place a chaste kiss on your neck. “i know baby, you’re just so irresistible” he says, pulling you tighter against him. you finish up what you were making and turn the stove off. his arms being on you the entire time. you turn around in his grasp and look up at him, then place a quick kiss to his lips. he hums against your mouth, capturing you as you go to pull away, deepening the kiss. this time he breaks the kiss. “let me eat you out please? i need to taste you.” he begs, eyes glossy with desire. a blush creeps up to your cheeks, you cover your face with your hands, giggling slightly.

“you’re ridiculous” you tell him, swatting his shoulder. you bring your pointer finger to your chin and tap lightly, making it look like you’re thinking really hard about his offer. “i say, yes!” you smile at him, before wrapping your arms around his neck. he wastes no time, leaning back down and capturing your lips in his. he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you hold onto him tightly. he carries you all the way to your shared bedroom, not breaking the kiss once until he goes to set you down on the bed. you back all the way up until your back hits the pillows, wonbin crawling his way towards you at the same time, meeting you there. he kisses your lips again before moving his way down your neck, biting and sucking lightly in some places. you moan softly at the feeling, his hand trails under your shirt, cupping your breast through your bra while his lips works expertly against the skin of your neck.

small whimpers are leaving your lips, “bin, take it off please” you beg, he wastes no time pulling your shirt over your head, and unclasping your bra shortly after. lips immediately finding your nipples, spending time swirling his tongue around each of them. moans eliciting from your throat at the sensation, hands raking through his long locks. he groans slightly at the feeling, removing his lips from your chest, starting to trail kisses from the valley of your breasts and down your stomach, stopping right before the waistband of your shorts. “so perfect” he mumbles, beginning to unbutton your shorts.

he shimmies your shorts down your legs, tossing them somewhere on the floor before coming back up to meet your clothed heat. he spreads your legs slightly, dropping his head in between your legs, inhaling your sweet scent. he groans at the smell, his cock straining against his pants. “ah- bin that’s embarrassing” you say shyly, heat rising to your cheeks. “never baby, you smell so good” he replies, placing a quick kiss over your heat. you shudder slightly at the feeling. his fingers trail to your hipbones, dipping under the waistband of your underwear and sliding them down your legs.

he comes back up, and immediately gets to work, his mouth working expertly on your clit. your legs instinctively close round his head, your back arching up off the bed. his hand travels upwards, pressing firmly on your stomach as he holds you down. moans are falling past your lips, the pleasure being all too much. his mouth moves down slightly, licking a stripe up your cunt before coming back down to push his tongue into your hole. slowly fucking you with his tongue. you cry out, hands flying down to his hair, pulling tightly as moans fall out of your mouth. you feel your stomach tighten, your orgasm nearing. “i-im close” you manage to get out. moans becoming louder and more frequent. after hearing your words, wonbin moves his mouth back up to your clit sucking on it as he swirls his tongue around it. your hips buck into his mouth, legs beginning to shake as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body jolts as your eyes roll back in your head, wonbins name spilling from your lips over and over again. he continues his ministrations on your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. when you’ve had enough you pull his head up from your core, panting harshly as you try to catch your breath.

his plump lips are coated in your juices, the sight almost enough for you to cum again. he swirls his tongue around his lips, collecting every last drop of your juices before leaning down to kiss you again. you pull away, smiling at him, “thank you binnie, you’re so good to me, let me return the favor yeah?”

.

.

.

[cosmicdahlias]

Take Me Under

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: NONCON, drugging, somnophilia, oral, smut

so this is a spiritual successor to my last fic, it’s not a continuation but the themes are similar

It was a warm summer night in Gravity Falls. The crickets chirped as you sat out on the porch with your research partner, Stanford Pines. You nursed your glass of whiskey that Ford had poured for you. It had been a long night of research, Ford was trying to build an interdimensional gateway, stuff you would’ve thought five years ago only existed in science fiction, but he really was a genius.

His other partner had already gone home for the night, Fiddleford. He was a good guy, a family man with a son, you believed his name was Tate. Tonight you were kind of happy Fiddleford had left already, you liked him just fine but the truth was you had feelings for his cohort.

You blushed whenever Ford looked your way, eyed his hands as they fiddled with the laboratory devices, wondering to yourself how his hands would feel on you. There were so many times you wanted to tell him how you felt, to confess your true feelings. With Fiddleford almost always present the timing never felt right, but tonight you had Ford all to yourself.

Neither of you said much, just taking in the night air. You bounced your leg nervously, you started to feel light headed but decided to ignore it. Ford studied your face, it was clear you were anxious about something.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You bit the bullet and took a deep breath.

“Ford, I-“

But before you could get another word out the world around you began to sway, the corners of your vision going black, the darkness slowly creeping in. You felt yourself falling forward. The last thing you heard was Ford’s voice.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

-

Ford caught you in his arms, he looked down at you, not sure what to do. He shook you.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

He tried to collect his thoughts, what the hell had just happened? You were fine all day and now you were out cold. He put a hand to your forehead, it felt normal, you weren’t sick.

A chilling laugh that made the hairs on his neck stand on end echoed through his head.

“Well well well well well well well well well, looks like the perfect opportunity is right in front of you, sixer.”

Ford swallowed. “Bill?”

“The one and only. So what do you think of my handiwork?”

“Handiwork? What handiwork?”

“Oh come on, you’ve been pining after this kid for ages and you’ve been too darn afraid to do anything so I figured I’d throw you a bone.”

Ford felt a pit grow in his stomach “Bill… what did you do?”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, sixer. I just had you add a little something special to their drink.”

Ford was horrified. “Bill, that’s- you can’t-“

“Oh come off it Fordsy, you and I both know this is a golden opportunity. Do you seriously think you’re gonna have the guts to even kiss them when they’re awake?”

Ford bit his lip, Bill was right, he was a coward when it came to you.

“Mull it over, I’ll leave you two alone for now, don’t be a pussy. Byyyyyyeeeee.”

And with that things were quiet again, it was just Ford and you lying unconscious in his arms. He felt his pulse in his throat. He had wanted to kiss you, to know you intimately for so long. Would he really get another chance like this?

He stood up, and carried you through the front door. He walked through the dark shack, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet. He opened the door to his room and walked to the edge of his bed, setting you down gently on the plush covers.

He cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. He knew it was sick, but thought you looked incredibly cute passed out. Your lips were parted slightly, so kissable. He couldn’t resist, he leaned down and kissed you deeply and felt himself grow achingly hard. Fuck, this felt so wrong but he didn’t have the will to stop himself now.

His fingers traced the top button of your blouse, undoing each of them slowly, kissing his way down the valley between your breasts as he did so.

He thumbed the delicate lace of your bra, god if you hadn’t planned to be seen like this why would you wear something so sexy underneath? He slipped a hand down your back to sit you up so he could undo your bra.

He sucked in a breath as he laid you back down and took in the sight of your breasts, they were so fucking perfect. He had pictured it in his mind thousands of times but the real thing was even better than he imagined. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling it with his tongue. Taking your other breast in his hand, he circled your nipple with his index finger.

His cock throbbed through his pants. If this was wrong why was he so turned on? Was he really that depraved? He shook his head, trying to escape the thoughts and enjoy the moment.

He ran his calloused hands up your thighs and started to pull down your pants. He let out a small dark chuckle, matching underwear. Yeah, you were asking for this. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and slid them off your legs. The sight of you elicited another sinister laugh from him. You were soaking wet, even in your unconscious state your body begged for him.

He pulled his hands off of you and began removing his trench coat, next his sweater vest and collared shirt. He unbuckled his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud thud. He slid his boxers off of his hips and let them fall over his discarded pants.

He stroked himself absentmindedly as he studied your naked body. He wished he had a polaroid camera so he could save this moment forever. He wanted to ravage you, claim you. Then it occurred to him that it would only be fair to make you cum if he was going to destroy you.

He slid himself down the length of your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. His hot breath tickled your pussy. He took your clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking it rapidly. He moaned into your pussy, you tasted so fucking good. He wished that you were awake so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. He slid his index and middle finger inside of you, pumping roughly into you.

He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, your wetness dripping out of you. He worked you with a steady rhythm, savoring the delicious wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you.

He sucked your clit furiously, his fingers fucking you with a brutal intensity. Your pussy began to spasm around his fingers, he knew you were close. He kept at his pace, wanting to push you to orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me.”

You began to pulse around his fingers, a small moan escaped your lips. He reveled in your orgasm. His cock leaked precum and twitched wildly. Nothing had ever gotten him this aroused.

He got up, dragging you head first to the edge of the bed, tilting your head back. He swiped his finger on your tongue, feeling the warmth of your mouth. He angled his cock to your lips and shoved himself down your throat.

He fucked your mouth aggressively, panting and swearing. You looked so pretty with his cock in your throat. He bucked his hips into your face, holding a hand to your neck, feeling his cock bulge in your throat.

He felt himself getting close, and pulled out. His breathing was ragged. He took a moment to collect himself before picking you up and laying you back down with your head on the pillow.

He climbed on top of you and kissed you deeply, hands fondling your breasts. He aligned his cock with your entrance and with a loud groan forced himself into you all the way to the hilt. The way your pussy gripped his cock was perfect.

-

Your eyes fluttered open, all you could see from the dim light of the bedside table lamp was a figure moving on top of you. As your eyes adjusted and you started to come back to reality it hit you just what was happening and who it was.

“FORD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Oh, you’re awake. I’m sorry but you passed out and you just looked so perfect that I had to have you.”

You desperately tried to free yourself from underneath him, you clawed at his arms. He took your wrists in his hands and pinned them down above your head.

“Don’t- ah, don’t struggle. I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“Ford, stop. Please.” You cried.

“I can’t, nngh, you feel too good.”

He fucked you hard, pumping his thick cock into you. The slick, wet sounds filling the room. He forced his lips on yours and moaned into your mouth, his tongue shoving its way to the back of your throat.

You wrestled yourself out of his grip and pushed him off of you. You scrambled off of the bed and ran for your life for the door, but Ford was faster. He tackled you and pinned you to the floor.

“Baby please don’t make this, ugh, harder than it has to be.” He whispered into your ear as you fought back against him.

He pulled you to your feet and shoved you back down on the bed, pinning your wrists once more. He was going to finish what he started. He violently forced himself into you again, his rhythm punishing. He groaned loudly and bit your neck, you whimpered. His cock twitching at the noise.

He stopped for a second, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs that he had stolen off a cop during a night of possession by Bill. He cuffed your hands above your head. His hand now free to travel south, making its way to your clit. He drew circles with his fingers while continuing to brutally fuck you, causing your pussy clench around his cock. The pleasure was indescribable, god he loved it.

You tried to struggle again, but Ford held you down by the waist with his free hand. His breathing quickened, he was close, you were too. He pounded you into the mattress, the bed frame shaking.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum, I need you to cum around my cock.”

His fingers didn’t let up, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. You bit into his into his shoulder and felt the skin break, the sickly metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth. That was enough to send Ford over, he cocked his head back and his moan echoed throughout the shack. You cried out as you came, tears welling in your eyes.

Ford shuddered and panted, he was spent. He rolled off of you and collapsed beside you. You laid there, shaking and crying. Ford took your face in his hand, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He cooed. “Let me get those cuffs off of you.”

With a click of the little key your hands were released. You thought about using this as an opportunity to run, but you felt frozen. He kissed you lazily on your lips and neck, then he pulled you against his chest. His big calloused hands stroked your back. You felt strangely comforted, safe almost. You had always wanted this, to be wrapped in Ford’s arms.

Ford had desired you for so long, and now that he finally had you he wasn’t going to let you go.

[court-jobi]

Reheat

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (support-hero!reader x teacher Izuku)

Words: 2.5k

Rating: G~

Warnings: comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, work stress (livin' vicariously), talks of the future, a few fem pronouns used, but generally gender-neutral

Summary:

Izuku letting himself into your home after a long day has become comfortable background noise, and one you love to hear while you're bogged down. Work has been following you home all week. He's proud of you, without a doubt... But equally concerned when he sees your dinner half-eaten, your mind scatterbrained and racing faster than he can anchor you, and your angel eyes in desperate need of some TLC. He's cemented his place in your heart- and sees no reason he can't make himself at home here already.

A/N: do I have bigger fics in mind? Yes. Did I write this instead of sleeping bc I love soft, encouraging Deku? Also yes. Izuku Midoriya is a motivational speaker.

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“Hey honey! I’m here!”

Over the tinny, background chatter of a podcast streaming from your phone, you call back to Izuku letting himself in.

“Hey you~” You throw interest into your voice, but still stayed tuned into your work.

“Ooo what’s this… What did you make here on the stove?”

“Risotto– it’s Italian~ has lots of veggies and good stuff in it,” you didn’t stop your typing pace, engrossed too heavily in getting an email out before you forget about it and Gmail has to ‘nudge’ you, again, “-gave it a Japanese spin with what I had in the house.”

“Oh wow– oh my gosh, honey– this is so good!”

You look up since your darling man has just appeared in your doorway, sparkly eyed to see you, but equally sated by what’s just graced his mouth. It was a meal you could babysit between taking a quick shower, getting ready for work, letting its flavors marry in the fridge throughout the day, and popping back on the stove that night.

“I’m glad, happy you like it~”

“D’you eat?” Izuku asks, midbite.

“Mhm. Little bit ago,” You motion to your bowl- but when he comes alongside you, he tuts over noting it's only half empty.

“You didn't finish- you feelin’ ok?”

Having circled back onto your screen, you double take again, this time caught by his perception check over you and feeling guilty. 

“Oh. Guess I didn't. I’ll nuke it up here in a bit.”

Izuku, setting down his bowl and starting the -normally alluring- task of rolling up his shirt sleeves to his forearms, comes to your side. However since you’re paying little mind to your peripherals, you missed the show the was making of it. A simple ask of ‘what’re you working on’ came from him, sounding no different than if he wasn't trying to make eyes at you; fact was, you just weren't paying attention.

“Just some stuff for the interns,” the sight of how many tabs are open on your split screen -and in your mind- make you sigh, “With this new role, I kinda feel like you some days. Lesson plans, processing their paperwork; it’s all the stuff you had to turn in as an intern– only now I'm the one dealing with it on the backend.”

Izuku sifted around though your training materials and your propped tablet making itself useful as a second screen. At your handwritten to-do list that’s one of the only things non-digitized nowadays, he makes an offhand comment that your handwriting is nice. It's the kind of cute, ‘blink-and-you’d-miss-it’ things he says that you just hum to, whether you were really listening or not.  

When you glance up to him again, you see he’s watching you with a caring gaze and feel caught.

 “What’re you looking at?” you tease, typing again to break the silence.

“A pretty girl…” Izuku teased lightly, “who doesn’t know when to take a break.”

You type away at his call out– the need for a night off at Izuku’s side is exactly why you've been working so hard at this. You figured you'd get some of this extra prep work under control now, so by the time he rolls around on Wednesday for your standing date n–

You freeze. 

Realizing what day it is in your planner.  It's Wednesday. For dinner.

“Oh my God- -you’re here.”

“Mhmmm~” Izuku really doesn't want to laugh, but his sucking in of a lip isn't hiding it well. 

“ohmygod imtheworst!!” you refresh your face in both hands, talking through the gaps.

“You are not!” Izuku chuckled, setting your notes down. “You just got busy with all the new tasks, because you’re just that good.” 

A faithful, scarred hand comes over to smooth over your back, pulling you over into a little half hug. You sink against him, relishing in his little forehead kiss. He can try all he likes to cure your embarrassment, but you look to him apologetically.

“I’ve never forgotten our dinner dates, ‘Zuku…”

Your darling shrugged unbothered, “Had to happen sometime. It’s no big deal.”

“Is to me,” you pressed- very much bothered.

“Honey,” Izuku chips your chin up, “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s ok, these things happen! I mean, you still made a delicious dinner; even if it was a bit of an oversight I would -in fact- be eating it.”

The pang of guilt hits you at forgetting. This was just a symptomatic sign that the brilliance of your taking on the additional role of Education Coordinator at the agency was perhaps an over-zealous one. Not only to be on-call for your base job as a linguistics quirk specialist, but to balance another full time role on the office hours end? Why did you convince Fatgum this was a good idea? It sounded like a stellar idea back at the beginning of the summer…

Now you’re forgetting not just who you’re supposed to be eating with- but also eating in general.

“I’m glad you did,” you boost Izuku’s elephant-like memory, “It feels so normal to have you here, it's not like I completely forgot I’d see you today. I just– maybe I… thought I was gonna take some to you, since I wouldn't see you till later in the week? I dunno.”

“C’mere- never got a real hug.” 

You rise at his hand’s insistence, and stretch up into his full, healing embrace. 

“Hi baby,” you cooed pitifully.

“Hi, my angel. Missed you today.”

You hummed at the affection, sinking into his neck more out of your residual misery.

Izuku simply took advantage of you being close to sway you in his wide stance- a dance, sans music.

“I appreciate you cooking so much for us,” he spoke gently from his perch over your shoulder, “I was looking forward to it all day, y’know? You’re always so thoughtful with everything you make.”

He’s pressing into you with compliments- against your hard wiring to accept…

“‘Zuku.”

“It’s true~ you’re generous! You remember what my favorites are, and leave out the stuff I don’t like; you even send me leftovers. And you make snacks and treats for when the midnight munchies strike– what can’t you do?”

“Zuku…”

“And you–” he runs a hand through your hair as he sways your shy self back and forth, “-- make for the most funny, beautiful, fascinating, most inspiring company I could ever hope to share a meal with.”

Head thunking onto his shoulder, you playfully land a closed fist on his chest with a muffled, whiny plea for him to stop.

He sighs, all in good humor.

“This streak of yours... I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? Still can’t imagine how bad it must be in that brilliant mind that my incredible girlfriend has such a hard time accepting the tiniest compliment. Maybe it’s all that late night American comedy you watch...”

You exhale then fix him with your coolest look of sarcasm, anything to show that you have a modicum of having your shit together. So you cope with humor- who doesn't?

–shame that it looks too much like a pout and makes you decidedly not threatening at all, because Izuku just beams brightly at you in response.

“Oh! Now there’s my melty princess- I was wondering where she went.”

And at that, the aloofness was gone, and you snort into a laugh and hug him tighter around the neck. He even scoops you up and gives you one little twirl for good measure. 

When he set you down, Izuku cups your face in his hands and gifts you a few more forehead kisses before demanding your sights. 

“Now. We need to get you to finish eating first. Then, what can I do to help you tonight, hm? How can I make things easier for you?”

With a softer eye to your desk’s work, you sat back down staying connected to your ever doting Izuku by way of your hand in his. You tried again to focus back. You're newly refreshed by his affections and attempt for a more positive outlook, 

“Well, my goal of doing this tonight was so that I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow. Course, if I do run myself ragged tonight, I won't be any good to anyone there– or for you, here. But I think if I pare it down to just getting these e-sigs ready and getting their time-in checklists set up for their work study onboarding, that would give me a good enough start, and I can fill in the rest of their packets tomorrow. But that means I’d need -ugh- maybe… another hour of work tonight?” you looked to him for his approval, “I have a template, so it shouldn’t take me forever.”

“Alright! You’re the boss,” Izuku supported your plan with a smile, “How about I take care of the kitchen for you while you finish up?”

“You do not have to clean my kitchen!” you spouted back, offended– causing a laugh to burst from him, “It’s not funny! I didn’t ask you to come over after a day of work yourself to just slave away at my mess.”

Izuku fixed you a look, as if you knew better. 

“I think I can tidy up a kitchen, no matter how busy of a day I’ve had. Yours isn't even over yet- so when precisely were you going to have the energy to hammer at it? You’ll enjoy not having that mountain waiting for you.”

You huffed, but smiled gratefully all the same. 

“Besides, it’s just me- doing something nice for the woman I love; and I happen to like doing nice things for you. You deserve a clean space, hun.” 

He cleared off your previous bowl to reheat along with your empty water cup. Shaking the hollow straw inside to where it clinks, he knows exactly what you need and tells you so.

“You are getting a screenless break first, though. Something tells me you didn’t the first time around~”

Settled with a fist propping up your face, you swooned over this darling man. 

Trusting Autosave to have done its job, you shut the laptop down blindly, “Sure didn’t~” 

Izuku just rolled his eyes and stepped out of the study. 

You neaten up the collated stack of applications laid out by you and stepped over to the couch, taking a kneeling perch on the end while you sought out a new record for the player on the side table. Setting one on, it was able to fire up and fill some new life into the room with a movie score you haven’t listened to in a while. Everything just sounds better on vinyl.

When Izuku came back in the room, he’d found his houseshoes and returned with renewed interest to your music choice- and with a pleased expression seeing you actually lounging and taking things easier than how he found you. He traded your reheated meal in exchange for your blue-light glasses, which he’d then clean with a pocket square and set back on your desk once they were smudgeless.

“Now, that’s a better sight~ here you go, all set for later.”

You enjoyed Izuku’s company while finishing dinner, listening to him outline his workday while he cradled your legs in his lap. He'd had a pleasantly eventful one, with plenty to say about it. You’d play ‘two truths and a lie’ sometimes when he didn’t want to bore you with a particularly mind-numbing schedule, which pleased you just as well. You excelled at it, while he gave away his fictions every time- a terrible liar for the game, but great for a faithful partner, you reasoned.  You truly loved hearing him talk and talk, your love only growing at the domesticity of this feeling and never wanting that to change. 

Once you were done, you were honestly content to hear him continue his tangent, but it seems his inner discipline was stronger than yours. 

“Alright, now to attack that sink~”

You bemoaned again for his sake. But since you made such a small, affected noise, Izuku paused mid-rise, and sat back down a bit closer to you. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch, encouraging you to come closer and met you for a sweet kiss in the middle.

His mere presence reverted you to a younger self sometimes– one desperate for his attention, good or bad. It wasn't the loveliest impulse, but he clearly thinks it's all part of your charm seeing as he gives in every time, anyway.

“Thing is,” Izuku spoke softly while adoring the hand now placed in his, “If things keep going the way I think they’re going -the way I hope they’re going- it’s.. not hard to imagine that there’s gonna be both our dishes to clean up all the time. In our kitchen, in our home someday. So this is just practice, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. How it should be.”

That idea bloomed in your chest, the thought of sharing a home with him- where this exchange of chores and time together could be your new normal. Only it would be a future where he didn’t have to leave at the end of the night and go back to a bed with compact, collegiate-designed storage at the campus accommodations he stays in on the instructor's wing. He’s got enough to get him by, but he noticeably prefers your home here closer to downtown.

“And what happens when we both wanna ditch the dishes?” you countered sweetly.

Izuku smirked, “That’s what a dishwasher is for. Another thing we’d own together…”

“Forward thinking, there.” You relished that idea. 

Izuku nuzzled your forehead thoughtfully. 

“You’ve been doing things on your own for a long time– and it shows, sweetheart.”

His words came carefully, from a tender place spoken in confidence between you, referring to when you’ve spent other late nights like this one fueled with hot tea and a desire to keep ignoring the clock.

“And I know you’ve been used to that since you’ve been traveling so much, not even having roommates to help keep you company or lighten the load. I keep wishing I could have known you sooner, had more time with you before you had to learn some of those things the hard way… but I’m happy I get the chance to, now. I’m here now, and you’re not alone, so I hope you’ll let me take care of you when I can.”

With another happy sigh forcing your eyes shut, the mental will it took to not let the tears of a perpetual eldest daughter leave you was intense.

Izuku Midoriya never failed to hit the nail on the head when it came to pep talks; he does the same with his students. But why his ones aimed at you had to have a Full Cowling dash of heartfelt anecdotes in it, you don't know. But you're grateful. You're so grateful for him. 

“If you don’t quit talkin’ like that, Izuku, I will never let you leave this condo.”

He chuckled again, lifting your cheek for another kiss, “Twist my arm, love.”

Ultimately, he rose to quit distracting you, but not without you watching him leave with a hunger you’d never felt for another soul before. 

[nickeverdeen]

Game Over | Gamer!Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Pairings: Ellie Williams x fem!reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Smut, Romance, Humor, Fluff (I think?)

Warnings: Eat out, teasing

Summary: You decided to make a bet with Ellie and will do anything to make sure she loses

——————

The sun was setting over Jackson, casting a warm orange glow through the windows of the small house you shared with Ellie. The evening had settled into a comfortable routine—Ellie parked on the couch, PlayStation controller in hand, and you either beside her or lounging on the bed, content just to be in her company.

Tonight, though, you had a plan.

You sauntered into the living room, feeling the oversized hoodie you were wearing brush against your thighs. It was Ellie’s favorite—worn, soft, and slightly too big for you, but you loved how it felt, how it smelled like her. You knew she’d notice it the moment you walked in.

And she did.

Ellie glanced up from her game, her eyes narrowing as she spotted you. “Hey, isn’t that my hoodie?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, plopping down next to her on the couch. “Was your hoodie. Now it’s mine.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Oh, is that so? I’d like it back one day, you know.”

“Nah,” you replied, pulling the sleeves over your hands playfully. “It’s mine now. Besides, it looks better on me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips told you she didn’t really mind. “You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered, turning back to the screen.

You watched as she navigated through the game’s menu, fingers flying over the buttons with practiced ease. An idea popped into your head, one that made your smile grow wider. “Hey, Ellie.”

“Hmm?” she responded, not looking away from the screen.

“I’ve got a dare for you.”

Ellie finally glanced over at you, one eyebrow quirked in curiosity. “A dare?”

You nodded, trying to suppress the mischievous grin threatening to spill onto your face. “Yeah. If you lose this game, you don’t get the hoodie back. And… you have to take me out and pay for dinner.”

Ellie chuckled, shaking her head. “And what happens if I win?”

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “Same deal. You win, I give you the hoodie back, and I have to suffer the ‘punishment’ of you paying for my dinner.”

Ellie considered this, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Alright, but there’s gotta be some ground rules. If you start getting in front of the TV, pushing me, or tickling me, the deal’s off.”

You held up your hands in mock surrender. “Anything else is fair game?”

Ellie nodded. “Anything else.”

“Deal,” you agreed, your mind already racing with possibilities as she started the game.

Ellie was good—really good, and you knew it. But that was part of the fun. You watched her play for a while, your gaze flitting between the screen and her focused expression, trying to find the perfect moment to make your move.

Ellie was so engrossed in the game that she didn’t notice when you slid off the couch and knelt in front of her. Her concentration was absolute as she navigated through the challenges on-screen, her fingers deftly moving across the controller.

It wasn’t until you tugged at her pants and boxers, sliding them down just enough, that Ellie finally noticed what you were doing. Her eyes widened, and she glanced down at you, her voice low and strained. “What the hell are you doing?”

You looked up at her, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “You said anything else was fair game. Just trying to distract you.”

Ellie’s breath hitched, but she didn’t stop you. “You’re pushing it,” she warned, though her voice was shaky. “Is this too much?”

You paused, giving her an out, but Ellie shook her head after a moment. “No, keep going.”

With her permission granted, you leaned in, pressing your lips to her thigh before moving up, your tongue flicking out to taste her. Ellie gasped, her grip on the controller tightening as she fought to keep her focus on the game.

You took your time, teasing her with gentle licks and soft kisses, feeling the tension building in her thighs as she struggled to keep playing. You could tell she was trying to ignore you, to focus on the game, but every time your tongue dipped between her folds, she faltered.

Ellie bit down on her lip, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps as you finally settled on her clit, swirling your tongue around it in slow, deliberate circles. Her hips bucked involuntarily, pressing herself closer to your mouth, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. You had her right where you wanted her.

She tried to keep her eyes on the screen, but you could see her struggling. Her movements were becoming sloppy, her timing off, and you knew it was only a matter of time before she lost the game.

But Ellie was stubborn. She clenched the controller harder, trying to regain her focus as you continued your assault. You pressed your tongue against her clit, harder this time, then flicked it, causing her to jolt. She let out a low moan, her head falling back against the couch for a moment before she forced herself to look at the screen again.

You decided to take it up a notch. Sliding two fingers inside her, you curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made her gasp louder. Ellie’s whole body tensed, and you knew she was close, her resolve crumbling by the second.

Ellie’s hands were shaking now, her fingers fumbling over the buttons as she desperately tried to finish the game before she finished herself. But it was no use. Her focus shattered completely as you sucked on her clit, and with a final, frustrated cry, she dropped the controller.

You didn’t stop, though. You kept going, determined to push her over the edge. Ellie’s hands shot to your hair, gripping tightly as she bucked against your mouth, her breaths turning into ragged, desperate moans.

“Fuck, I can’t—” Ellie gasped, her voice cracking as you pushed her closer and closer to the brink. “I’m gonna—”

Her words were cut off by a sharp cry as her orgasm ripped through her, her body trembling violently as she came on your tongue. You didn’t let up, working her through it until she was a quivering, breathless mess beneath you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ellie’s grip on your hair loosened, and she slumped back against the couch, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. You pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you climbed up onto the couch next to her.

“Told you I’d win,” you teased, your voice breathless but triumphant as you leaned against her.

Ellie shot you a look, still trying to steady her breathing. “You fucking cheated,” she accused, but there was no real bite to her words—just the lingering frustration of someone who had just lost a battle she wasn’t prepared to fight.

“Did not,” you shot back, grinning as you snuggled up to her. “You agreed to the rules.”

Ellie groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah yeah, whatever.”

You chuckled, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. “It’s your own fault for being so confident.”

Ellie huffed, but the irritation in her voice was fading, replaced by the playful glint that had been in her eyes earlier. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

You just grinned, shrugging. “Maybe.”

Ellie looked at you for a long moment, then, without warning, she lunged at you, pushing you back onto the couch and pinning you beneath her. “Maybe I can make you forget about that dinner.”

You laughed, though the sound caught in your throat as Ellie’s hands roamed over your body, her touch sending shivers down your spine. “I still remember,” you teased, though your voice was breathless.

Ellie smirked, her hands sliding under the hoodie you were still wearing. “Well, let’s see if I can change that.”

[squinch-depraved]

I was watching a chuckle sammy episode today and there was a part where Schlatt said he would hire a hot secretary just to keep him company. I'd love a story about that if you're willing.

The episode is the zodiac one the part I'm referring to is exactly 1 hour in.

this is reallllly yummy i hope i did it justice for you

it was supposed to be just a joke. just a bit for the podcast, a few sentences about hiring an attractive secretary and nothing more. but they stuck in schlatt's mind and hung heavy over him for the rest of that night. he really was lonely. and ted had a point, hiring someone to just be around (and look pretty) was looking like a better and better idea every second. so he finished off his bottle of benedictine, not that there was much left, and tossed it to the side, stretching out further on the couch while he pulled out his phone and set to work searching for an assistant.

it wasn't long before ted heard about his search, and the two men bantered in a call for a few minutes about it before the older of the two stopped his jokes to suggest, "no, but for real though, i have a friend who just moved back to new york, you might remember her, she was on the set for this past chuckle week helping in the background. y/n?"

schlatt's pupils dilated and he took in a breath. "yeah, i remember her," he replied coolly. "thought she was in school though?" he played with something on his desk.

ted lit up. "yeah, she's studying, but i'm sure she'd be willing to work something out with you." his voice was laced with knowing. he had seen the way schlatt sized you up the first time he laid eyes on you, the way he could never meet your gaze and how he always looked to you first when he made a joke. "i'll send you her info, you should reach out, man. she'll be happy to hear from you."

that last line was the only reason schlatt did it. he cursed himself for letting ted convince him now that you were here in front of him. you had been invited to a coffee shop to discuss the job details, and when you finally showed up, he looked incredibly uncomfortable sitting at a small table. but you sat down in front of him, smiling up at him and pushing your glasses up on your nose.

"hi schlatt!" you greeted him, reaching out to shake his hand. he gripped you a bit too hard and grimaced when you made a small noise, shaking your hand out when he let go. "thank you so much for the opportunity, i was really worried i wouldn't be able to find a good job for a while with my school going on and everything."

he nodded hastily and pushed a pastry he ordered for you towards you on the table. you smiled and yanked it towards you, beginning to eat as he spoke. "basically, i just need you to get any random tasks i need done, done. just, paperwork, if there ever is any, usually it's all digital, uhh, anything that slips through the cracks. i just need someone to be there and make sure my shit is taken care of."

you raised a brow. "sounds like you need more than an assistant," you responded with a smirk. his face reddened and he looked away, trying to shove down the thoughts of why you were really here. you were making a joke, but it wasn't funny to him. not when you didn't know you were right.

"shit, i'm sorry schlatt, i didn't mean to insult you-"

"'s fine. not insulted. i need you in the office whenever i'm there, sometimes i get work done at my apartment, so here's a key to both. feel free to get your own shit done whenever you're working unless i need you doing something. pay's fifty an hour. can you start today?" he slaps two keys down onto the table as well as two addresses written down on a half-crumpled napkin. you stare up at him in shock before snatching the keys and paper.

"fifty bucks an hour???" you whisper-screamed at him before the startled look on his face pulled you back into reality. "what about this job is worth paying me that much? i'm accepting it, no takesies backsies, but why so much, schlatt?" you tilted your head at him as you asked.

he scrambled for an answer to your question that wasn't "i want to spoil you until you can't think of anything else in the world you want," but when he opened his mouth to talk, nothing came out. you sighed and answered his previous question instead.

"yeah, i can start today. let's go ahead and get to work, boss," you said, standing up and collecting all your school stuff you brought in with you. "take me somewhere i can dump my stuff!"

weeks passed, you fell into rhythm with his fucked up schedule easily, quickly learning when to fetch him more caffeine and when to take away his alcohol. you kept him organized, boosting his productivity and helping him with almost anything he needed. you learned a few days in the fifty an hour was for no good reason other than maybe ted had told him you were struggling to pay for school (he hadn't) because most of your job was sitting at another desk, sometimes in the same room, sometimes separated by walls, parallel playing with schlatt as he filmed or streamed or edited or did whatever he needed to do while you worked on schoolwork or a fun hobby you were into. you were being paid to do minimal office work, study and relax, and best of all, care for your hot boss. he loved when you called him that, boss, it always made his cock twitch and his brain flood with thoughts of you under him.

the worst part of the job was how attracted you were to him. it made doting on him inevitable when your whole source of income was reliant on you making sure he was "taken care of." he noticed you acting more lovingly for the first time when you brought a water bottle to his desk while he was editing and massaged the back of his shoulders before mumbling, "you need to take a break and stretch soon," and leaving the room. he was stunned, skin burning under his sweater where you touched him. secretaries don't do that. he quickly opened up his messages with ted and began typing.

"dude. i fucked up. shouldn't have hired y/n. help." every sentence was a different message. moment later, ted eased the pounding of schlatt's heart a bit by replying.

"what happened??"

schlatt typed quickly. "she massaged my shoulders idk man i can't think around her"

"oh dear heavens, the damn harlot massaged you?"

schlatt didn't dignify that with a response. a few moment later, ted typed again.

"she's really into you dude, you should go for it. i promise she's not the type to sue you if it doesn't work out"

his main fear erased, he closed the chat and got off the computer, heading to find you in his apartment kitchen, going over the schedule for the days to come. music played from a speaker on the counter, and you paused it when you saw him come out.

"sorry, was it too loud?" you asked, looking up at him.

"nah," he shook his head. "you've been workin' for me for a few months now, y/n," he began.

you started shaking your head, backing up into his fridge. "schlatt, please, no, i need this job," you started to babble.

"shhh, nonono, not that at all, doll," he assured you, gliding across the floor to caress your cheek. the pet name made your stomach turn as you let him cup your face. "was gonna say somethin' else."

"what is it, then, boss?" you batted your lashes at him. he inhaled sharply and kissed you, absorbing the high pitched moan you let out. when he pulled away, you flicked your eyes down from his to his mouth and back up to meet his gaze before pulling him back in.

he tasted like whiskey, and he growled against your neck when you slid your hands under his shirt. "hired you just to keep me company but i can't keep my hands off you, doll." the nickname made you nervous for the second time that night.

"then don't keep 'em off me," you panted, puling your shirt off over your head and adjusting your skewed glasses. he drinks you in, inhaling the scent of your perfume (that you recently had to buy another of because he stole your first bottle to smell while he pumped his thick cock in his hand whenever you were gone). after a moment, he peeled your leggings off and picked you up, setting you down on the counter before he kneeled between your legs and looked up at you for permission to begin tasting you. you nodded, running your fingers through his brown curls while he started to lick and kiss at your cunt. much to his enjoyment, you didn't hold back your noises, letting your moans and cries bounce off the echoey walls of his apartment.

he slid a finger in you as he sang praises about how good you tasted for him, working his way up to two, and eventually three. you were crooning about how amazing he felt, knotting your fingers deeper into his hair and pulling it when you felt your high getting close, which made him moan directly onto your clit. you clenched your thighs around his head and ground down onto his face as he drew an orgasm from you.

once his face was thoroughly soaked with your juices, he pulled away and came up to kiss you for a bit before pulling you off the counter and spinning you around.

"i promise i'll fuck you properly, in a bed, next time, i just gotta have you now, toots." he bent you over the counter and slid his pants down, stroking his length a few times before slowly pushing into you. you both moaned, adjusting to each other, and he started thrusting, gripping your hips fiercely as you shrieked and adjusted your glasses again, to no avail because you were being shaken and throttled like a toy.

"god, you're so good!!" you screeched, moaning further when he smacked your ass in response.

"fuck, you look so cute, bent over on my counter like that, lettin' me use you like the good little assistant you are," he snarled. you let out a guttural whine at how hot he sounded. "you're so good at assisting me, baby."

your knees began to buckle and he grabbed you tighter to help hold you up.

"almost there, toots, c'mon. doin' so good."

you cried out one more time and his pace quickened, growing unsteady as he got closer to finishing. he thrust forcefully a few more times before pulling out to come all over your back and ass.

quiet settled over the kitchen as you both panted, and you heard him quietly snap a picture of you with his seed all over you before he grabbed a paper towel and began to clean you up.

"sorry," he mumbled.

you shook you head and turned around to kiss him. "can i stay the night?" you asked him.

he nodded, relieved, and slipped his pants back on.

"can i get paid for it?" you looked at him with a sly expression, glasses smudged.

he laughed. "absolutely."

[zxoaii]

Tease

fem! reader x Kento Nanami

Summary: Nanami gets even after a tease.

SMUT

WC: 1.7k

Find this and more on my wattpad!

Wattpad: _Bolter

[ Y/n ]

The crash of glass shattering on the floor startles me awake. My hands instinctively reach for the drawer next to the bed. As I fumble fearfully in the dark, a curse comes from the kitchen.

"Nanami?"

I get out of bed and make my way to the doorway. Nanami stands in the kitchen with his back to me. "I just broke something. Don't come over here barefoot."

I turn the kitchen light on for him. "I didn't want to wake you." He awkwardly moves to avoid looking at me. "You didn't want to wake me because you didn't want me to know you left the house or because you wanted to let me sleep?"

It's not a well-kept secret he's been sneaking out. Only it doesn't bother me as much as it should because I know he's working as a jujutsu sorcerer on the side.

"I thought you said you were done with all of that."

Nanami sighs and finally turns to face me. "Oh my god." My hands instinctively cup over my mouth. He's covered in blood.

"Not all of it's mine... And really it's just a superficial wound. It's just bleeding a lot."

He sweeps the glass up and dumps it into the trash. "It's not a big deal." I trail behind him as he makes his way to the bathroom.

I would ask but he wouldn't tell me. "Stop it. Sit down." Nanami stops digging through the cabinets and sits on the edge of the tub.

The first aid kit isn't even in the cabinets. It's in the closet. I grab it from the shelf and check the contents. Really, how am I supposed to treat him with this?

I set it down on the counter and wet a washcloth. Nanami can't hide the guilty look on his face. It would probably feel good to chew him out for this incredibly stupid thing he's doing.

When he went back to being a jujutsu sorcerer I thought he'd take it easy. After you almost die and decide to retire you usually learn a lesson. I guess he didn't.

The cloth cleans the blood off of his face. Did he really think he could hide this from me? I tilt his head to wipe blood out of his hair.

"It wasn't supposed to be this bad."

"You don't need to explain yourself."

It's hard not to be incredibly pissed at him. And at the same time, it's hard to not find him incredibly sexy sitting here while I fix him up.

I drop the cloth into the sink and open the first aid kit. He'd probably be better off with stitches. Instead, I grab rubbing alcohol, antibiotic cream, and some bandaids.

I search around the bathroom for our cotton pads to clean the wound with. "You're killing me in that dress." He should be used to a slip and some underwear by now.

I grab the box of cotton pads and bring them back over to him. "It might be easier if you sit on my lap." He isn't actually making moves right now, is he?

"Stop it."

I drench the pad in the alcohol and tilt his chin up. "I'm serious." His hand reaches up to grip my hip as I start cleaning the cut. He's pushing it.

"Hold still." I pass over the cut several times until it looks mostly clean. The bathroom light isn't great for looking at these things. "Sorry, you were just the closest thing to me." Nanami's hand falls off my hip.

I take the cream and apply it over the entire cut. There's more than he needs but hopefully, it will negate anything I missed while cleaning it out.

"Sweetheart, come on." Nanami runs his hands down my waist and hips while I find the largest bandaid we have. "Don't do this to me. Just give me something." The rip of the package replaces the response he wanted from me.

I place the bandaid on his forehead. My hands cup his face, caressing his cheeks gently. It's too hard to not give him anything.

He holds my ass as I lean in to kiss him. My hands slide back into his hair. There's no rush to the way he kisses me. Nanami's mouth is dangerously addictive.

It's almost painful to pull away from him just as he starts to take it further.

"What?" He looks up at me from his seated position. This punishment is equally bad for me. "You're not getting anything tonight." His hands fall to the edge of the tub as I walk back to the bedroom.

"And you should shower too," I add as I shut the bathroom door. If I caught a glimpse of him showering after I told him we wouldn't be having sex, it might actually kill me.

The bed welcomes me back. I can hear Nanami mumbling curses in the bathroom. It just has to be this way.

.  .  .

"I'm back!" The door shuts behind me with a click. I carry the groceries to the counter by myself. Usually, Nanami takes a couple of bags for me when I get home.

He walks out of the bedroom with his tie in hand. "Where are you going?" I ask as I start grabbing things from the bags. "Nowhere."

"Really?" I put my things down as he approaches me. "It's for you." My brows furrow as he holds it out. "What?"

"Put your hands out."

What's his point? I hold my hands out for him, palms up. Nanami closes my fingers into fists and then starts tying the tie around my wrists.

"Kento-"

He presses a kiss onto my forehead and then guides me back to our bedroom. Is this happening? "Do you enjoy teasing me?"

The pieces click in my head. He's still mad about the other night. Oh... I'm so in for it.

"Do you?" His fingers work away at my shorts while he speaks. "I couldn't reward bad behavior." Nanami pulls my underwear off with my shorts.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth."

He holds two fingers up to my lips. I open my mouth and he places them inside. "Good. Now suck them. You're going to want them to be wet." I suck his fingers shamelessly until he removes them from my mouth.

"I'm going to ask you again. Do you enjoy teasing me?" It's hard to focus with the sexual tension in this room. "Yes." The word falls from my lips once, twice, and then a pathetic third time.

Nanami wipes some spit off my chin with his thumb. He nods. My breaths come rapidly. I can't take this. My legs spread further across the bed.

I choke out a moan as he presses his fingers into me. My hands pull at the restraint. "Look at me." My head is turned to the side, my eyes are squeezed shut. "Look at me." Nanami coos tauntingly.

I force myself to look up at him. His fingers pump in and out of me at a steady pace. Still, it's not nearly enough. "You're so desperate aren't you?" There's no point in not giving him what he wants.

I want it too.

"Oh god, yes."

Nanami pulls his fingers out of me. A frustrated sigh is all I can respond with. My body reacts to every minor touch. His fingers grab the collar of my shirt.

"Don't-"

His arms flex as he tears it down the middle. His lips meet my neck and then my collarbone. All I can do is lay there and moan desperately. I need more.

"Nanami..."

His name comes out as a breathy sigh. It hurts to not be able to grab at his hair his shirt or his pants. I squirm as he kisses down my chest to my stomach.

How is he not going insane right now with me?

My lust starts to turn to desperation. I can't handle any more of this. "Just fuck me." Nanami raises his brows at me. "Sorry?"

Hot blush rushes across my cheeks. "Please just fuck me." The hunger in his eyes grows wilder at my begging. "Well..." He unbuckles his belt and drops it onto the floor.

I can't see as well as I want to but the sounds of him undoing his pants drive me just as wild. He leans over me on the bed. "And your shirt."

"My shirt?" I reach up and grab at his shirt. Nanami stands up, pulling away from my grasp. He takes his time unbuttoning his shirt.

I take in what I can. I hate the way being a jujutsu sorcerer almost kills him. But I have to give it credit for keeping him so fucking fit.

His muscles tense and flex as he leans over me again. "Say it one more time." Our eyes lock in a lustful trance.

"Please fuck me."

Nanami gives a small nod and grabs my hip with one hand. The way he does that drives me crazy. He doesn't waste time starting slow.

My moans echo through the room as Nanami thrusts into me relentlessly. His free hand grips my thigh. It will bruise tomorrow and he'll kiss me there. That thought drags another moan out of me.

"Don't stop." With nothing else to do my nails dig into my palms. Nanami's gruff moans start to mix in with mine.

One of my legs wraps around his hip, allowing him to hit a different angle. He adjusts too. Nanami slows his pace slightly and thrusts deeper.

I watch as his head falls back. His moans and curses turn me on in ways no one before him ever has. He drops my thigh and grabs my hand, pinning them above my head.

Nanami leans in closer while he holds my hands. His lips tease mine for a moment before finally kissing me. I drink up his taste like it's the only thing keeping me alive.

My stomach begins to tighten with overwhelming pleasure. Nanami continues to his me as I moan louder. My wrists are pressed harder into the mattress.

"That's it." He presses desperate kisses along my neck as I give in to my orgasm. "Good girl." Nanami drops my hands and sits back up.

"Good girl, just one more minute."

My head digs back into the mattress as my back arches up. His moans become more and more strangled with each minute that passes. I watch as he presses a hand against his forehead.

"Fuck, Y/n... Goddamnit." His hand falls onto my stomach as he finishes. The room falls silent except for our ragged breathing.

After a moment Nanami brushes his hair out of his face. He licks his lips and looks down at me.

"I enjoy teasing you too."