#its more humourous than that please | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hirukochan · 1 year

Note

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle.

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink.

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour.

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out.

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war.

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready.

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd.

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie.

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good.

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend.

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work.

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint.

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you.

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.”

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that.

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean.

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad.

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it.

You have always been Severus’ safespace.

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting.

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod.

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings.

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver.

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely.

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face.

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner...

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips.

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him.

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you.

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile.

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you.

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it.

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans.

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind.

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long.

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure.

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder.

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises.

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow.

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw.

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you.

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

#severus snape #snape fandom #ao3 fanfic #severus snape smut #Severus Snape x reader #snape x reader #snape x you #request #dividers by cafekitsune

3K notes · View notes

atsumutu · 7 months

Text

it’s your scream that wakes him up. a shrill cry that has zoro jerking upright and latching onto the hilt of his swords.

it takes him barely a minute to get to you, calling out your name as he enters your shared room where he finds you wide eyed and backed into a corner.

“what’s wrong?”

a quick scan of the room comes up empty for intruders so he returns his attention to you, closing the distance between you two with a few steps.

there were intruders. just not the human kind.

“c-cockroach!” you cry, pointing towards the corner of the room where sure enough, there’s a cockroach scuttering past.

zoro turns to you, unimpressed. it’s a tiny thing that hardly called for this level of reaction. it most definitely didn’t warrant cutting his mid afternoon nap short.

“seriously? i thought you were dying.” sleep still clings to his voice making it more rough than usual.

your frenzied eyes move back and forth from the cockroach to the swordsman. “please zoro, if you love me you’ll-“ a squeal cuts off your pleading when another one decides to make an appearance. with nowhere left to run, you just push yourself further into the corner, shutting your eyes.

before your scream comes to an end, zoro’s taken care of the situation, disposing off the offending creatures before returning to you.

“god, such a crybaby.” he grumbles, pulling you towards him. a warm palm settles on your back, rubbing up and down between your shoulder blades. “it’s gone now, okay? it’s dead.”

you peer at zoro through your lashes. “both of them?”

“yes, both of them.”

although his words comfort you, you seek further solace in his embrace, grabbing the fabric of his t shirt and nestling into his chest as he continues running up and down your back.

a few seconds pass before zoro pulls back, remembering something. “i thought you were going out?” he asks, recalling the lively chatter over breakfast as the straw hats made plans to explore the port town they were docked in for the next few days.

“I decided to stay in, thought you might appreciate some company.” you grin, mood perking up now that the cockroaches were dealt with.

zoro rolls his eyes, sassy man that he is, and you suddenly find yourself thrown over his shoulder.

“what i would appreciate is going back to my nap.” he huffs, making his way towards your shared bed.

giggling, you give his firm bottom a few pats. “of course, my hero deserves some rest.”

zoro tolerates it all with a smirk playing on his lips, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze. when he reaches the end of the bed, he drops you onto the mattress, chuckling mildly at the disgruntled noise you make. he makes quick work of removing his swords, resting them on their usual spot against the bedside table, before joining you.

it’s only when you’re tucked into zoro’s side that you pipe up again, lifting yourself to rest on your elbows, feeling playful. “zoro?”

he can already tell this isn't about to be a normal conversation just from the mirth dancing on your lips but he indulges you anyways.

“hm?”

“would you kill all the cockroaches in the world for me?”

zoro snorts at your absurd question. “that’s ridiculous.” he scoffs, fixing an arm behind his head and using the other to have you lie on his chest before answering, only because he knows how this goes with you. “yes, i would.”

he’s rewarded with a chaste kiss on the lips and the melody of your laughter. its enough to fill his entire body with warmth.

half an hour and several questions later, sleep still calls to him but his smile remains, content to humour you until your words begin to jumble into one and your breathing evens out into a familiar rhythm, convinced he could do this for an eternity with you.

#my first piece of writing for op i apologise for whatever this even is #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #zoro x you #opla #one piece live action

1K notes · View notes

kirschteinoir · 24 days

Text

twelve minutes.

zayne (love&deepspace) x reader.

❝ seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn't be this attractive... ❞

zayne is uncharacteristically late and you're not pleased, but the reason why definitely makes up for it.

wc; 1.8k

[zayne forehead zayne forehead zayne forehead...inspired by this gorgeous art by sesamefruit on twt / X!!! i haven't stopped thinking about it since i saw it like UGH HE LOOKS SO SCRUMPTIOUS!!! implied suggestive stuff towards the end bc i couldn't help myself so 17+ please! ]

he was late.

zayne was never late. in fact a small but prominent part of his personality was that he was always on time - something he was so fond of reminding you about every time you happened to arrive a minute or two after him to your scheduled date. you sort of understood him though; his job was a harsh reminder that time waits for no one, especially a cardiac surgeon hours into a surgery with a life on the line.

your eyes dart to the giant clock ticking warily above you in the ballroom, its ornate hands and roman numerals mocking you as you stood in the corner with half a glass of champagne in your hand.

it had occurred to you to perhaps text him, although you pulled a face at the thought of being too clingy or rushing him. you trusted zayne and you knew he wouldn't be late without a good reason - you just hoped that he knew what he was doing by showing up almost fifteen minutes after your agreed meet time.

tonight was a charity gala, or something like that, hosted by akso hospital to raise funds for various wards, ones you hadn't even heard of before. the bulk of the guestlist included important patrons of the hospital who most likely had relatives in akso’s care, all of the most significant hospital staff and whoever they brought as a plus one - which is the category you and zayne fall into, respectively.

despite being a guest on zayne’s behalf, the two of you had arrived in separate cars. this was not something you had initially agreed to as the image of showing up on zayne’s arm with both of you dressed to the nines had been all too alluring and a small, smug part of you had wanted to show him off to everyone in attendance. but as always, zayne's work had shattered your grandiose dream and thus he couldn't make it on time to pick you up; he'd paid for your taxi to the venue though, and tracked your location on an app to make sure you arrived safely.

apart from a sending you a happy snowman emote at your arrival to the gala's location, he hadn’t given you any indication of when he would show up. you think back to his text from earlier this afternoon, scrunching your nose slightly as you recall how he'd said that he would definitely be there in time for dessert - his attempt at humour, you supposed.

so here you are, waiting nervously amongst the growing crowd with a watchful eye on the entrance. many of zayne’s colleagues had already arrived and greeted you with a sympathetic look as they knew all too well how busy the schedule of the cardiac surgeon could be. you took their pitiful gazes in your stride, assuring them with an easy-going laugh that he would be here soon. you hoped you sounded more convinced than you felt as an ugly apprehension gnawed at your stomach at the thought of zayne standing you up tonight.

oh well, at least you looked good.

throwing caution to the wind you swallow the last of your champagne with a slight pained expression and discreetly whip out your phone. your fingers find his contact reflexively and are about to hit the 'call' button when suddenly a hushed whisper sweeps through the room like a blizzard and your curiosity is piqued for a moment. the only thing that stops you from going through with the call is the sound of zayne's name rippling through the crowd and then the placid lilt of his voice that you knew so well.

zayne was finally here!

an hour or so ago, zayne had been stood in front of his bathroom mirror, his usually composed visage marred by a troubled expression. remnants of his steamy shower clouds the glass and his deep sigh adds to the frostiness as he continues to stare at himself in discontent.

he was already dressed for the evening, his shirt sleeves cuffed and tie clipped, but had yet to style his hair. usually, it would be the easiest part of his routine as he doesn't stray much from his signature windswept fringe. something was different today though and maybe out of the sudden urge to surprise you, he itched for something new. he was nervous as he weighed out the potential cons - what if it didn't suit him? what if you didn’t like it? what if he stuck out too much? was a fancy gala really the best time and place to experiment with his appearance?

as much as he was nervous, he was also tired of looking the same every time you saw him. well, except for when he was fresh out the shower and his hair was damp, but it was still relatively similar to his daytime look...

zayne looks at the short video tutorial on his phone again, replaying it a second time for good measure. the tub of gel was as daunting as his surgical scalpels as he carefully unscrewed the lid. he pauses the video on a particular shot of the final styled product, tentative fingers dipping into the cool gel.

he ended up leaving the house twelve whole minutes later than he had expected and his slight rushing had caused a few strands to break free from their gelled confines already - he thought it would at least hold until the first course of the evening. he was late enough as it was and didn't want to push it by continuing to style it in his parked car, knowing that you were probably growing restless as you waited for him inside.

you peer through the crowd that seems to have coagulated at the entrance of the grand hall, wishing you were just that bit taller so you could catch zayne’s eye and let him know where you were.

“excuse me,” you mumble to no one in particular as you push through, side-stepping and shimmying your way to your date. a few of them grumble at your forcefulness and you mentally apologise, only thinking of zayne at the moment.

“has anyone seen- ah, never mind.”

you hear zayne approach before you see him, the timbre of his voice suddenly swirling in a comforting embrace around your ears.

the first thing you're met with is his expensive suit, the woven navy fibres filling your field of vision. you stumble back a little, afraid of bumping into him, and take in his appearance properly. he was wearing a classic three-piece, navy with a black waistcoat, and you remember that you picked it out for him on your last shopping date. at the time he had seemed indifferent to your choices, but your cheeks suddenly feel warm as you realise right there and then how much zayne really likes you.

“zayne, there you are! i-“ you begin, looking up at him with a smile.

expecting to see pear green eyes hidden by a gauze of black fringe, you're shocked when instead those same eyes are crystalline and unobstructed as they regard you with an amused expression, perfectly poised underneath an arched black eyebrow.

the soft skin of his forehead, which you had often traversed with your fingertips on countless sleepy nights, was now exposed to the warm glow of the ballroom. his fringe, which so often tickled your cheek as he burrowed into the crook of your neck, exhausted after an overnight surgery, was gelled neatly back. some rogue strands still burst forward, daring to defy zayne's signature put-togetherness, but even they looked purposefully rogue and elegantly styled to suit his new look.

you could do nothing more than gape at him dumbly as he became increasingly concerned at your lack of response. he'd been fraught with worry about your reaction to his tardiness, expecting to get chewed out for being so ungentlemanly as to leave you standing alone in a room full of his colleagues that you hardly knew. but he surmises quickly that it was all worth it as he takes in your dumbfounded expression; he has to hold back a chuckle at the way you not so subtly check him out. however you aren’t the only one who’s doing so in the room, and he softly clears his throat to bring you away from your thoughts for a moment.

“here i am,” he says smoothly, taking another step forward. he offers his arm to you, his ears tinting that pretty shade of crimson that you loved so much as he finally cracks under the scrutiny of everyone else in the room.

“let’s find some privacy, my dear.”

dazed, you just nod as zayne leads you away from the crowd. it disperses soon after anyway, although everyone is now whispering about that cardiac surgeon and zayne's popularity seems to grow just that little bit more.

he takes the two of you to a more secluded part of the room, exhaling softly when you're finally by yourselves. he's almost disappointed by your silence at his new look and he no longer has his fringe to hide behind as his eyebrows knit together slightly.

“you haven’t spoken a word since you saw me,” he comments, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your cheek. he almost gasps in shock as your hand stops his, gripping his wrist gently. “what’s wro-“

his voice trails off as he notices the change in your expression, one he recognises all too well from the privacy of your bedroom. his own ears colour more and he peers down at you in confusion.

“seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn’t be this attractive,” you finally murmur, unable to stop staring at zayne.

he clears his throat again at your words, looking around you briefly to make sure no one was listening in.

“i take it you’re fond of my new look?” he asks, hopeful undertones betraying his casual question.

he was so cute, you wanted to squeeze him.

you smile, a mischievous glint in your eye as you suddenly grab him by the tie with your other hand, tugging his face down to hover inches in front of yours. his eyes widen almost comically, his vulnerable expression fully exposed to your devilish eyes.

“i can show you exactly how fond, my love. it doesn't hurt to have dessert first tonight, right?”

as a bashful zayne crowds your giddy self into the empty bathroom stall and locks the door behind him with unusually shaky hands, he thanks astra for those extra twelve minutes he spent in front of the bathroom mirror today.

about me.

#zayne love and deepspace #zayne #zayne lads #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne fluff #zayne l&ds #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #l&ds zayne #l&ds x reader #lnds fanfic

598 notes · View notes

revolutionsingingintherainnn · 24 days

Text

Aakhon Mein Teri ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Summary: Lando Norris and his very desi girlfriend <3

: ̗̀➛ ln4 x desi!reader ₊˚⊹♡

: ̗̀➛ fluff + humour ₊˚⊹♡

masterlist ☾☼

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 321,970 others

yourusername: manifesting that our story doesn't end like om shanti om

view all 85,261 comments

landonorris this movie was traumatising

yourusername no it wasn't!

user1 it really is

landonorris next time im picking a movie for movie night

yourusername no 😚

user2 dunno who i love more srk or lando

yourusername the only reason im with lando is cause srk is too old for me

landonorris wtf babe????

maxfewtrell you need to stop showing him movies that'll keep him up at night

carlossainz he's a child

danielricciardo too young to watch horror movies

landonorris THANK YOU

user3 i love how they came for lando's rescue 😂😂😂

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 715,026 others

yourusername gora pakora with his little spicy pakora

view all 291,008 comments

landonorris youre so beautiful

yourusername no you

landonorris i am

yourusername 😒

landonorris wtf is a gora pakora

user1 NO ONE TELL HIM

user2 youre a gora pakora lando

oscarpiastri yall are cute

yourusername lily and i are cuter tho

alexalbon youve already stolen my lily, why do you need another one

yourusername alexalbon im collecting all your girlfriends and then we're gonna ditch yall and live happily ever after

charlesleclerc alexandrasaintmleux stay away

alexandrasaintmleux no 😚

user3 PARENTS

user4 LANDO IN A KURTA LANDO IN A KURTA THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL

user5 im dead he looks so beautiful

yourusername

liked by mclaren, landonorris and 853,017 others

yourusername poor guy's gonna lose all his money now that he's marrying me

view all 604,321 comments

landonorris can't wait to marry you

mclaren congratulations to the happy couple!

user6 shes such a gold digger

user1 no you dumbass. indian weddings have like, 13 different ceremonies to it

user2 my parents are getting married

user4 can't believe he's willingly giving away all of his money to her

carlossainz congratulation kids

danielricciardo they grow up so fast

maxverstappen1 i just read somewhere that there are 13 ceremonies???

yourusername yes there's going to be a meeting about it. i expect you to be there

maxverstappen1 im scared

yourusername you should be

oscarpiastri cant believe youre getting married!

user5 i love how y/n's gonna have a meeting to explain the wedding process to all of them

user1 indian weddings are no joke 😭😭😭

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 981,003 others

yourusername my radha was on the dance floor 🕺❤️

view all 704,692 comments

landonorris im so happy i married you i love you sm

yourusername i love you sm too

user1 WE NEED MORE DETAILS

carlossainz how did your wedding end up being more tiring than a triple header???

yourusername its the beauty of indian weddings

oscarpiastri i honestly feel like im still drunk

landonorris as you should be

mclaren NO AS YOU SHOULDNT BE

georgerussell beautiful beautiful wedding guys

yourusername carmen looked so pretty i wouldve married her instead

carmenmmundt YES

georgerussell NO

landonorris NO

danielricciardo all those dance practices paid off

yourusername you bet im gonna use the sangeet videos on your birthdays

charlesleclerc please dont we beg you

yourusername MWAHAHA

alexalbon landonorris your wife is being mean to us

yourusername he won't say anything he loves me

landonorris i do

maxfewtrell whipped

user2 I NEED TO SEE THIS VIDEO

user4 im so happy for them im gonna cry

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

this is my first smau! i'm still learning to do these, so I'm sorry if this was bad! the dupatta getting caught on lando's watch idea was a request by @justadesirebel and I'm so sorry it took me so much time to make this! but, anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this! also, the title "aakhon mein teri" translated means "in your eyes" and I chose that because the scene in the movie when the actress' dupatta gets caught in the actor's watch, that's the song playing in the background! i've also got a link for my taglist that you can find here!

534 notes · View notes

the-tarot-witch22 · 2 months

Text

Personality of your future spouse - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me! | My Paid Readings

Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you guys - 6 of swords, king of wands, 4 of pentacles, king of swords and 9 of wands)

Okay so the first thing i heard and feel is they are quite chatty or like to talk a lot, or travel a lot too when they are sad or not happy with circumstances at hand, They are also very masculine and dominant, like a leader or very bossy, They are also quite outspoken like they won't be quiet, if they see something which doesn't sit right with them, they might tend to not indulge in things which are holding them back, they are quite a problem solver, their advise and wisdom is to die for, they will speak right thing at right time, they might be extrovert too, but they will balance you out well, they like to move forward, they are comfortable in their own skin, they might have had a time or phase where they didn't like how they looked and how they were but time changed them now they comfortable in their own skin, and they try to make other person very comfortable as well, they are not very judgemental, for some of you guys travelling is so prominent, like your future spouse goes to different place, experience different cultures, try different food, it's a part of their personality, they also seem very mature regardless of their age, their situation might have caused them to grow early, they might like to go out or have fun in adventure parks, greenery, they also like to run or keep themselves in shape, for some of you your future spouse seems like a computer geek, they have a very unique and very charming personality, they attract people both genders towards because of their unique sense of humour and personality, they have transformed very much in their lives, for some of you your future spouse has gone through so many changes, hardships which caused them to where they are, they also seem very focused and determined, if they want something they will get it type of attitude, "i heard failure doesn't scare me, not trying enough does" spoken like a real business man, they seems very wise guys, they are also very seductive and sexual , like they are secure in their body, they don't have fragile masculinity, they are very respectful towards people and others, they might not seem to show emotions very well, but you will know they care for you, their action speaks louder than words, they are also quite private about their personal life, they won't be spilling secrets to everyone, just to someone who are close to them, they are also very quite protective and jealous, they won't like anyone clinging onto you, let it be anyone even a pet, like "they are mine", they will make sure the other person knows, you are with them, their temper is calm unless someone provokes them, then they are like they don't even see who is in front of them, they won't hurt you, but their anger is quite bad if someone gets on their bad side, they also seem bit materialistic, because off their past, i feel, they also seem very logical and intellectual a great person to talk to and spend rest of your lives with, they don't take betrayal easy, they might cut off people easily, they sometimes tend to hang on past or just look back at things that has happened but they try not to do that, they know its only gonna waste time and nothing can happen, but they also get proud of their growth, quite confident, they also seem hardworking independent and the person who stands their ground very well, they also don't care what others think of them. They also seem very passionate.

Honestly? They are wonderful! You guys are lucky and so is your future spouse!

They could be fire and air sign in their big 3 or 6. Especially Sagittarius or Aries, or might be you guys as well. Or they can have fire or air midheaven.

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you guys - 4 of pentacles, king of cups, 9 of cups, 5 of swords, The hanged man and page of cups)

Okay so the first thing i felt they wear heart on their sleeves a very honest and open book type of person, they are emotionally mature in tune with them, knows what they want in a person, so forget the fear of mixed signals, because your future spouse will tell you thousand times they want you, give you reassurance, the love you want and desire. They are the kind of person who would not like people eyeing you, very protective some of you can say over protective, but don't be scared they are not controlling but just scared to lose you, because you mean so much to them, they tend to think they are not enough for you and end up overthinking and becoming jealous, and honestly in a good way, i don't feel any negative and ill intentions from them, they tend to give you the world and love you want they won't be like refusing you, they will make sure your needs have been met, they are self sufficient too, and has a good job too, they seem very soft and loving, as i said an open book, so they won't hide things from me, they embrace their both sides, in bed they can be a switch, or be very versatile they tend to make you feel at home and very comfortable, their energy is calm, even while doing your reading i felt sleepy, very soft spoken and soft person, they also seem very curious to learn new things, they might have trouble saying no or might be you as well, They have a good heart, they don't like to cause pain to someone if they end up hurting someone , it will affect them too, they are quite sensitive too, they don't like conflicts they rather avoid having them, they also seem very loyal and honest, i heard "I will die for you queen", i also heard they are very caring towards environment, they will cherish you so much, they might sometimes take things to their heart, they are very sincere too, values honesty a lot, They also seem to have spiritual side, or they seem lucky in money or financial department, they tend to get anxious at times, like at time of conflicts it doesn't seem to suit them, i also feel their manifestations comes easily to them and they just don't realize it , for some of you they could be very religious, they might just be also lucky in general, they also have a tendency to win, or have competitive side to them, when it comes to their profession or you, they are very laid back to or might like procrastinate at times, for some of you your future spouse could be very lazy or just like to sleep in, very attractive and young personality, or they seem younger they might look young or have a heart of child, pure they seem to be very charming, can be quite flirtatious without realizing it, i heard "was it a coincidence, we met?", "i don't think it was i have dreamt of you so many times yet i can't remember you", wow, they just gave me something for you guys.

Your future spouse seem like a sweetheart honestly, so loving, love it for you guys!

Their possible zodiac signs could be - water signs in their big 3 or 6 especially Cancer and Scorpio , or for some of you - earth signs or they can have a water midheaven.

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you guys - 7 of wands, 3 of cups, The empress, Temperance, knight of cups, 3 of swords, 5 of pentacles and the star)

Okay so the first thing i felt was they are quite hardworking, for some of your future spouse could be workaholic and they have so many responsibilities and burden on them, They tend to overthink a lot, they are quite righteous and stand up for people who have been wronged, they like to earn but with their strength and hard work, they also seem kind of serious but warms up when you know them, they like indoors, they might be ambivert and they seem very adaptable, they tend to find happiness in small things around them, their might be someone they are close to or helped them come out of their shell, they tend to have many people or friends but only few of them seem genuine, they also could be teacher or have that teacher personality they like to correct you or tell you things teach you stuff, they might be quite experienced in bed, they also seem very focused and determined to get things done, they don't like to left things on tomorrow, more like do it now, they also seem to like to have parties or small celebration with their loved ones, as i said small things can make them happy and small things can make them angry too, they really seem to focus on self and self growth, i heard "self - righteous person", they have so much to give, the love, the things to their loved ones, their love language could be act of services, they tend to meet their friends or pals a lot, they don't like to do flirting or leading someone on, they are very nurturing and caring too in touch with their feminine side, they also seem to love kids, or they might be good with them, they are financially abundant too, but all because of their hard work, they don't like people who are very codependent, they will care and open up but at their own pace, for some of you they could have a water venus, they are good and caring boyfriend as well as husband, they are also very balanced, or have became balanced, after the traumatic or bad experience in past, but that's for another thing and pac, i won't go in details, but i also feel they got their heartbroken or for some of you they broke someone's heart, but later they now realize their mistake and respect people's emotion, they also seem very gentlemanly, or charming person, they are quite a listener more than a talker, for some of you they like to things slow or for some of you they are quite forward, for some of you they might had trusted wrong people in their friendship or business or work, they seem to be vulnerable too, but with right people, not with everyone if you earn that, they love you, i also feel for some of you they might have brought up in poverty, but now they are doing very much better now and has good job or money, or had a hard time when they were kid or younger, they value for things and money, as i said very caring, i also feel their aura is quite healing or they might work in medical field. They might at time be judgemental or jump to conclusions too, but nothing too bad. I also they are quite happy, when they achieve their desire goals.

They seem like chill person honestly! love it for you guys <3

Their possible zodiac sign in big 3 or 6 - Scorpio, cancer, Gemini, Libra or Virgo and Capricorn, Aries or Leo too.

Pile 4:

(The cards I got for you guys - Wheel of fortune, 6 of cups, 9 of pentacles, strength, the star, king of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, 5 of wands and 10 of pentacles)

Okay so wow the first thing i heard and feel is they are quite the provider or has that let me do it energy, for some of you, your future spouse is very mature, they seem very lucky and have things on their fingertips when they need it, if their is a situation they don't like, the situation seems to improve on its own somehow, they believe in "time is precious don't waste it" very understanding, and have figured out their life purpose, they seem to move forward, for some of you your future spouse seems introvert, but they like to move forward in their own way, they like to win and go ahead, they also feel loved when someone appreciates them and shows them with their actions, they might like to read as well, like self help books, or might be you guys, but they seem into reading anything news, articles, they likes to be updated on political affairs, or what is happening around them, "i also heard timid and shy" so for some of you might be that at first, they created their own fame and luck type of vibe i am getting, they also has a very transformative personality, or went through changes, they might have lost someone young a pet or someone close to them, a grandparent, but all the changes and ending has made your future spouse stand on their own which makes sense why they are very wise or mature, you guys can check pile 1 too, i somehow got similar messages for pile 1, your future spouse personality is very interesting honestly, sweet, spicy and calm, love that vibe i am getting, they seem to like and feel nostalgic things, for some of you animals or helping people make them happy, they seem very sweet, they like to help people and go beyond for that, they might like flowers or nature a lot, they are also quite very independent, and self secure, like they know they are good, they don't need someone's opinion, they value facts or honesty, for some of you they are quite confident, they have worked hard and has achieved their goals, as i said they created their own fame self made person, they are brave , courageous and very spiritual too, they like to believe in old myths too, not a blind follower don't worry, they are quite focused and determined to make their life a better for themselves and others, they believe in equality, They will go to lengths to protect their loved ones, their love is healing, their personality is healing so maybe they have at times attracted broken people in their life, they like to go with the flow, they don't let people treat them as pushover either, in past for some of them could have been, but now it's very different for them, As i said they changed a lot, they definitely are a sugar daddy very rich guys very rich, they might also like to have everything their heart desire let it be anything, when they love they love very deeply, they are also very possessive over their materialistic things and their loved ones, "its mine, so its mine" no one gets to have it, but in a good way, its hot honestly, they are self build and for some of you they have gotten inheritance or comes from old money, they might have been close to their grand parents, i also feel they have stress or they take sometimes too much work pressure which causes them to have inner conflict with them, but they are learning with time, They are also very practical and logical a very much problem solver, they are quite ambitious too and love to work on their goals.

Your future spouse is a package <3, good for you guys!

Their possible zodiac sign in big 3 or 6 - Earth signs especially Capricorn.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

821 notes · View notes

gilverrwrites · 2 months

Text

Summer Loving

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Roy, & Tim.

AN: Have a lot of lengthy and/or smutty wips on the go atm and I can feel them bogging me down a bit, so I decided to take a break and work on some short summer themed slice of life/domestic fluff to cleanse my palate. I feel I must apologise for my gratuitous and obvious Roy Harper thirst but I wont, enjoy!

CWs: Some are more suggestive than others, reader discretion advised. Minor swearing and minors swearing, mentions of alcohol. GN! Reader

Bruce: Tan Lines

It’s moments like these where you wish Bruce didn’t have to spend his nights on the endless pursuit of justice. You knew what you’d signed up for, but you’d missed him all day and god, the feel of his strong fingers massaging after sun into your skin was euphoric. Would you be such a bad guy for trying to convince him to stay home?

“I like this.” His hum pulls you from your train of thought, and you look down to see his fingers trailing against the tan line your shorts had caused. He spares you a quick suggestive glance, the look a wolf might give a rabbit it’s particularly fond of before dipping down to replace his hands with his mouth.

“Ohhh, stay home tonight Brucie?” The look he gives you this time maintains its warmth but there’s an air of warning to it. Despite his simmering combativeness, you add a charming “Please?”

To that he lifts his head, just far enough to deny you of his lips, but close enough that his low voice still seems to reverberate through your body as he speaks. “Crime doesn’t take the night off, neither can I.”

“I know.” You sigh, admitting defeat before the battle has even begun, and he rewards you by assuming his barrage of kisses to your lower body.

“Just don’t go out too early.” You advise, trailing the tip of your finger from ear to ear, estimating the line where his Batman cowl ends. “Don’t want to get any tan lines of your own.”

“Trust me.” There’s humour in his tone now as he works his way upwards, ghosting his 5 o'clock shadow along the skin of your stomach as he prowls closer. “The evening is young, and I have plans for you yet.”

Dick: A/C

The A/C is broken. Again. To combat the heat the whole household has resorted to wearing nothing but their underwear, except of course for Haley who is always naked. Lucky dog.

Additionally, all the windows are open in an attempt to let the cool night air circulate the humid apartment but all it’s really doing is letting in the ambient sound of Blüdhavens boisterous nightlife and countless flies.

“Want one?” Dick asks from the kitchen spaces as he digs into his second ice pop since dinner, you joke about envying his metabolism despite knowing damn well that’s not the real reason for his physique. Although between the food and the heat-induced skipped workout, he’s bloating, just a little bit; the tiniest, most delicious bit of plumpness and you can’t take your eyes off of it. “Are you checking me out?”

“Always.” You reply with a brazen smile, continuing your laser-focused stare even as he begins approaching your spot on the couch.

“How about you stop looking and start touching, huh baby?”

“No.” You finally cease your objectification of his stomach to look him in the eyes. The intended sternness in your tone is stifled by the way his icy confection has turned his lips blue. “I already told you, no sex in this heat until the air con is fixed.”

Despite your posturing, you don’t fight his closing proximity, nor do you stop him from dragging his cool-raspberry-stained tongue along the length of your throat, it’s still cold from the half-eaten lolly and the sensation sends a welcome chill through your body. As inefficient as it may be, you much prefer this method of cooling down to an A/C.

Jason: Sunrise

The metal grate of your fire escape is surprisingly cool against your bare feet. It’s early, pre-sunrise early but the air is still thick, a combination of the arid summer heat and steam of the cities underground. Despite the unpleasant temperature, you settle onto the grill, with nothing but a pillow for comfort and two ice-cold glasses of lemonade.

When 15 minutes pass, and you start to notice a growing tinge of orangeness in the sky, you start to worry you’re being stood up, or worse; something awful has happened. Something that would prevent him from coming home, but then you hear it; The heavy steps of Jason’s steel-toed boots approaching from your apartment’s rooftop.

You glance up just in time to see him dropping down. A loud clang rings out as he hits the floor, causing the whole structure to vibrate and you wonder if he does that every night, surely not, there’s no way you could sleep through it or that your neighbours wouldn’t complain.

“Aren’t you sweating balls?” You ask, taking in his gear as he sits down beside you. The boots, the cargo pants, turtleneck, jacket, gloves, and the full-face mask.

“Nah.” His voice is muffled by the headpiece until he takes it off, shaking his head to support his answer. “It’s weird but I’ve kinda run cold ever since I died, you know?”

Obviously you don’t know, in fact having felt his searing, naked skin pressed to yours on multiple occasions, you highly doubt him, but you nod regardless and hand him his drink. Unlike a man on the chilly side, he chugs half of the icy drink in one go and you wonder if he’ll ever stop jumping from buildings and telling white lies to impress you.

“Want some help warming up?” Before he can respond you lean up, brushing your nose against his and watching as his lids flutter closed in anticipation, his breath is cool on your lips and when you finally press into them you can taste nothing but the tartness of the lemonade. Regardless, it’s heavenly; soft and tender. Every kiss with Jason makes your heart flutter in the same way it had the first time.

When he pulls away you chase after him, eyes only opening to meet his heterochromatic irises when your pursuit for more becomes an abundant failure.

He’s grinning as he tells you; “We’re missing the sunrise.”

“I don’t care.” You answer, trying again, and this time succeeding in drawing him in for another kiss.

Roy: Paddling Pool

If ever anybody asked you to describe a moment of pure domestic bliss, this moment would be a strong contender. Your lower body is submerged in a paddling pool as you bask in the sun, enjoying the occasional splash of water caused by Lian’s uncoordinated but enthusiastic dancing beside you. She too is basking, but hers is under an endless stream of hose water being directed by her father; Roy, who is watching the two of you from a sun lounger, hosepipe in one hand and a non-alcoholic beer in the other.

He's quite the vision, no shoes, no shirt, just tastefully tacky swim trunks and his iconically worn-out grey baseball cap that may be protecting his head, but is doing little to tame his mop of fiery hair. From this angle, you’ve got a great shot of some of his lesser-seen tattoos, but every time you look over at him you find yourself far more smitten with the countless freckles that adorn his chest and shoulders, made darker and more noticeable by the recent heatwave.

“How’s the Heineken?” You ask, genuinely curious how he’s enjoying his first taste of alcohol-free booze.

“Crap.” He replies, lips briefly curving into a self-amused smirk before dropping to woefully panicked as you both turn to look at Lian. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have been listening in, content in her own toddler babblings. Relieved, he turns his attention back to you and corrects himself. “Um, not good babe.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” You offer your condolences, but he seems completely unbothered.

Instead, he turns the glass bottle around in his hands a few times before chucking it over his shoulder. It sails through the air before seamlessly landing in the open bin by your backdoor. Your concern about it leaking into the rest of the recycling is seconded by how impressed you are. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times his trick-shot hit, you’re always at least a little bit captivated by his impeccable aim.

“It’s cool, hon.” He shrugs and leans back into the lounger. His eyes flicker back and forth between you and his child, a slow, contented smile spreading across his face. “Got everything I need right here.”

Bonus:

Hours later, you’re sorting through the soggy contents of the recycling as Roy scoops Lian up in his arms and takes her sleepy frame inside. The sun is still high and bright, but it’s past her bedtime, and it’s been a long, exciting day for her. He dries her with the softest towel he can find, careful to pat down every pruned finger and toe before putting her to bed.

“How was your day, sweetie?” He asks, strong fingers petting her soft hair to help soothe her to sleep.

“Crap!”

Tim: Ice Cream

Tim is still sleeping off a rough, muggy night of crime fighting as you circumnavigate the boat's sad excuse for a kitchen. The bags under his eyes had been growing darker each day under the stress of hunting down a mysterious new bank robber. You’d hoped to lift his spirits by surprising him with a tub of homemade ice cream, but so far all you’d managed to make is a mess.

After having a falling out with the thrifted ice cream maker you’d stuffed in the back of a cupboard months ago, you settled for hand mixing. By the time you put the concoction in the freezer to set, your wrists are aching, and Tim has begun to stir. You’re just finishing up the dishes you’d created when he finally emerges from the bedroom in shorts, flip-flops, and a not-so-summer-appropriate hoodie.

Before you can offer a ‘good morning, Timmybear’ his arms are around your waist, pulling you close from behind and settling the weight of his sleepy head on your shoulder.

“What’s this?” He asks and then he’s licking what you can only assume is a stray splash of the mixture from your cheek with the bravery only a man raised by Batman could possess. It could have been literally anything. “Banana?”

“Chunky monkey actually.” Goddamn. Surprise ruined in less than a minute. Oh well, at least you can give him something to look forward to. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get ice cream without you, I made it for you.”

“I figured.” He hums, sounding so very drowsy despite the ease with which he manoeuvres your body against the kitchen counter so he can keep you close while brewing his morning tea, occasionally planting soft kisses to the side of your neck as his hands move absentmindedly. “You’re the best, you know that? Can’t wait to try it.”

“You figured? How did you figure?” You skip right past the justified praise; he’d been practically comatose since 4 AM, how could he have figured?

“It’s on the ceiling.” He’s right, you look up to see a cream-soaked walnut lodged above you and let out a dramatic sigh as you fall deeper into Tim's arms.

Taglist: @wandalfnation

419 notes · View notes

yogurtkags · 3 months

Text

❝ LOVER BOY ❞ — kuroo tetsuro

cw. gn!reader, established relationship, domestic bliss word count. 782 synopsis. fifteen more minutes with tetsu the cuddle bug

there's many things about kuroo that you love — if anyone dares to ask, they'd better be prepared to sit here for hours listening to you ramble all about it. from the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he laughs, right down to the way t-shirts sit on his torso.

yes, he's suave and flirty, a handsome charismatic and natural leader, but beyond all that, he's just a silly lil lover boy that you look forward to seeing first thing in the morning and coming home to every day.

your clock-in hours naturally aligned with his, thankfully, which meant that mornings were typically spent getting ready together. it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to rise earlier than him though, reports and proposals keep him up working late on most nights.

he usually puts up a fight to keep you in bed with him for babe just five more minutes please, but a kiss and promises of a warm mug of coffee does just barely enough to coax him into reluctantly releasing you from his embrace.

today is no different. you almost think you’re successful in getting out of bed without acquiring a koala named tetsu but a lightly calloused hand catches yours before you can completely pull away.

his hands have lost a bit of it's roughness over the years, having stopped playing volleyball as strenuously and regularly as he used to back in school, but they’re still gentle in its hold. only with you.

rolling onto his back with his other arm draped over his eyes, kuroo sleepily groans “angel, stay in bed with me for a little longer please?”

“i’m just going to make us a coffee and prepare our lunches for work okay?” you softly reassure, voice barely above a whisper as you take a seat on the edge of the bed to lean down and peck his nose, trailing down to capture his lips with yours.

he cranes his neck to meet you halfway, sighing into the kiss like he needs you to breathe, and your heart swells with devotion. it’s slow and sensual, overflowing with love as it fills you up with warmth from the inside out.

his hand rests against the nape of your neck when you inevitably part for air, not letting you get too far away from him just yet as he rubs featherlight circles into your hairline. you gently rest your forehead against his as he takes a deep breath, eyes still closed and savouring the moment.

your warm breath fans against his cheek, "i love you, tetsu."

"i love you more."

as the morning sun slowly seeps in through the blinds, you get lost in the way the light glistens over his soft skin — and he shines. your heart skips a beat at his boyish likeness and the serene look on his face. he looks so peaceful in this state, younger, without a care in the world.

you can't help but let a humoured breath escape at his content expression, combing your fingers through his jet-black hair, attempting to tame the wild tufts of his bed head at least just a little bit.

lightly grazing your nails against his scalp just the way he likes it, kuroo hums in bliss, sinking further into the plush ivory sheets and sleepily murmuring, "don’t bother with lunch, we can grab food from the cafeteria. i just want you to myself right now."

how can you say no to that? you shake your head with a smile, giving in to his sweet pleas and affections and letting him pull you back under the covers with him. burying your face in his chest, his steady heartbeat thrums against your ear, syncing with yours like a melody that only belongs to you.

the slow rise and fall, inhale and exhale grounds you as his arms tighten their hold on your figure. in his embrace, the world stands still in it's axis, spelling out all that you are in body, mind, and soul. you are his and he is yours, home.

he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, slipping a hand under your oversized tee, his tee, to caress your back, stroking lines up and down your smooth skin. if he keeps this up, you're falling back asleep and you'll be no better than he is. not that you're complaining.

“fifteen more minutes and we really got to get up okay? there’s a meeting you don’t want to be late for.” you remind him, your words coming out muffled by the soft cotton of his thin pj shirt and laced with drowsiness.

“ugh, can i just call in sick today?”

“tetsu!"

tags. @tetzoro (mrs kuroo herself)

notes. mister kuroo, stop being so cute, it’s sickening !! not to be that girl but writing this reminded me of my bf :(( ldr sucks :(( (dividers: @/cafekitsune) reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

#ᯓ★ : written in the stars !#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

451 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 1 year

Text

on my knees (for you).

a/n: more virgin!eddie tales WOOO!! i just can’t shake this little pathetic man and i want to write him being so down bad for ever and ever. thinking of some steddiexreader that includes the little virgin boy too…

this is a continuation to seven minutes in heaven but really can be read on its own, it just mentions events that happened in the first fic.

18+. smut. mentions of weed. eddie being horrifically pathetic again. no mentions of y/n.

eddie’s sure you’ve pavlov’d him.

his cock springs into action the second you appear. and see that wouldn’t be a bad thing except for the fact that he sees you multiple times a day, in class or around campus and it makes him look like a dirty perv.

even now, he’s sat trying to kill it off as you sit next to him eating your lunch. thigh brushing against his every now and again and his mind is going wild. he’s trying to think what would happen if he just lifted you onto the table and fucked the shit out of you right here.

well, in all actuality, he’d probably last all of about ten thrusts before busting a nut and subsequently dying of embarrassment. maybe it’s not wise.

the thing is, now you had this little arrangement with each other, his erections had been ramped up to level ten. and he solely blames you for that, by the way.

he’d never known someone to be so eager all the time. you’re like a fucking rabbit. tearing at his clothes the minute you’re alone already soaking your little panties. eddie had debated swiping some last time he was over but had decided against it at the last minute which he sorely regretted the second he got home.

it had mostly just been a lot of you riding him in an attempt to get him to last longer than just a few minutes so you hadn’t really.. experimented much. he didn’t mind though, getting to stare at your tits bouncing in his face as you fucked yourself on his cock? how could he complain?

your fingers wrap around his knee, leaning in to his ear, ‘i’m free for the next two hours.. what about you?’ ever so slowly traipsing your fingers higher, his cock jumping to attention. not here. please not fucking here.

he’s got steve harrington sat opposite and really does not fancy having to explain to him as to why he’s this hard at lunch time.

it wasn’t like it was a matter of life or death but it was just easier to keep doing this without everyone knowing. because then it becomes a thing and nobody wanted that. eddie’s sure at least some people have gathered what’s happening. especially argyle who had woken up rather confused to find you spooning him on your tiny couch, but had just let out a tiny bro? and fallen right back to sleep.

‘i-i have class,’ tentatively placing his hand on yours to stop it ascending any further. eyeing the other participants at the table. oh fuck. steve definitely knew. looking over with a slight glint of humour in his eye, waiting until you re-emerged from eddie’s ear to say something.

the stupid smug prick. he probably couldn’t wait to humiliate eddie in front of all your friends. then he’d swoop in with his blonde highlights and tinted strawberry lip balm. he couldn’t stand it.

surely you weren’t interested in that? really, eddie is the complete opposite of whatever the fuck that is and there’s no way in hell you’d continue to fuck him if you weren’t a fan.

‘skip class for me?’ you whisper into his ear. for me. for me. fuck. he’d do anything for you. you could’ve told him to flip the table so you could fuck right here and he would’ve.

his breath hitches in his throat but he nods quickly, squeezing your hand and dipping his head low. the bulge in his jeans was fairly obvious at this point but maybe if he got up quick enough no one would be able to tell.

your hand vacates his leg, leaving a burning sensation in it’s wake. you’re shoving your shit into your bag, standing from the shared table. oh you meant now. while over your friends were still here. you were going to walk off together. to your room. oh god. that wasn’t obvious, was it?

‘where are you goin’?’ steve asks, watching intently when you jab at eddie’s shoulder to make him move. he does immediately, grabbing his back pack and determining just how he can slide out of here without showcasing his hard on to the world.

‘we’re going to smoke.. that alright with you?’ you remark, hands poised on your hips. eddie loved it when you were like this. his heart racing faster every time you scolded him or pouted those pretty, plump lips his way.

‘sweet, i’ll come!’ argyle sits up straight, awakened by the mention of weed. of course.

‘no,’ you bark, getting fed up of waiting for eddie to stand up and instead grabbing his collar, yanking at the denim, ‘sorry, closed invitation,’ wiggling your eyebrows at the long haired boy.

this elicits a chorus of ooohs from the table as eddie finally slides from the bench, turning immediately to follow your lead. he felt like a massive loser following you around. if you got him a leash and told him to get on all fours he would. and he likes think that that’s understandable.

‘oh my god they’re so annoying,’ you hush, his legs rushing to catch up with your irritated strides. did he look like such a lost dog to other people? not that he cared much.

‘i know.. it’s steve,’ he replies, realising that there was probably too much venom in that response to pass it off as something casual. yeah, maybe he was still a tiny smidgen jealous that you two had such natural chemistry. he is human after all. anybody would be.

‘he’s an ass but it’s all of them, so nosy,’ you chuckle, linking your arm with his now that you’re out of view of your prying friends.

he had wondered if you were ashamed of him, or to be seen with him at least. it was understandable, you were literally smoking hot and he was.. a pathetic little nerd who was completely obsessed with you. but to stand up and quiet openly lead him off to your room in front of everyone, maybe you weren’t.

‘you’re not like.. ashamed to fuck me, are you?’ regretting it the instant it came out of his mouth. he didn’t want to know the answer really. and even if you were, he wasn’t going to complain. it’s not like girls were falling at his feet, let alone girls as pretty as you.

‘no!’ you hit his arm, expelling the breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding, ‘eddie be serious, it’s not like they don’t all know anyway,’ rounding the corner to your house.

he had snuck in a multitude of times over the last few weeks, in fact it was every day at this point. running up the stairs past nancy’s room, thinking how much easier it would be if you were on the ground floor. then he might be able to shuffle through your window and back out in the early hours.

you fumble for your keys, knowing that the house would be empty at this time and quite proudly let him in the door. he doesn’t reply to your answer because he had assumed that the pair of you were successful at being incredibly sneaky.

‘do you have a problem with it being a secret?’ you ask, the door slamming shut behind you.

oh god no. even if he did, he’d never tell you in fear of ruining it all. the only thing he wanted to do was to rub it into steve’s annoying face. ha ha. this massive loser had gotten into your pants before he had. well, at least he thinks.

‘no,’ it comes out sounding more like a question than a statement, which he chastises himself for straight away. if he had half the confidence any normal person had, he would’ve stopped this conversation in its tracks. shoved you back against the wall or something and shut you up with his mouth.

‘no?’

‘yeah, no,’ he repeats, sounding much more assured in himself.

‘good,’ you mutter and he notices the glint in your eye, hints of a smirk beginning to appear. he blinks and you’re stood before him, eyeing up his lips. his jeans had just got a hell of a lot tighter.

isn’t it crazy that someone’s eyes could have that affect on someone? or actually, how just the sheer presence of them in the room could have someone stumbling over their words.

‘i.. don’t care at all,’ staggered breaths as he’s backed up against the wall, shoulder blade hitting into one of the framed pictures on the wall. he wants to yelp at the pain but instead keeps his eyes solidly on yours.

he’s been practicing you see. watching any and all videos he could find of how to be a dominant man alongside copious amounts of porn and had gathered a bunch of mens help magazines. they were supposed to teach him how to be more strong willed, to flip the upper hand over to him.

except, they’d really done nothing at all. well actually, he’d now discovered that his hand was no longer sufficient compared to the earth shattering orgasms you’d given him. if there was a way for him to bottle that feeling, he’s sure that it’d be more addicting than heroin. probably make more money, too.

‘shall we go upstairs?’ you ask, eyelashes fluttering. yes. god yes. he’s desperate to get upstairs and into your room so he can disappoint you for five whole minutes this time.

‘yes.. yes please,’ his chest rising and falling rapidly. everything he had practiced had gone to shit the second you’d touched him. brilliant.

you simply smirk, grabbing his hand to lead him up the stairs the exact same way you had the last five nights of this week.

shoving him into your bedroom and kicking the door shut behind you. you’re ferocious with it. and he wonders if you needed him as badly as he needed you. he just longed to be inside of you or next to you or just in the same room as you. he needed that feeling pumped into him intravenously.

you’re on him the second the door’s shut, grabbing at his chest, his shirt and his pants all at once. pushing him back towards your unmade bed with such urgency that he stumbles, pulling you on top of him. your lips are everywhere, pecking at his jawline and his neck. going over the violet markings you’d left previously. he was embarrassed about them at first but had quickly learned to appreciate them and the fact that you weren’t afraid to mark him.

you’re shuffling out of your jeans already, kicking them off of your ankle as you rest your knees either side of his thighs. he only notices because the frilly lace waistband of your panties catches against the button on his jeans. are these what you wear normally or is this something you did for him?

a low moan is pulled from his throat when your skilful fingers unbutton his jeans and make their way onto his rock hard cock. did you paint your fingernails for him too? the shimmering violet looked so good wrapped around his cock. he’s sure any colour would as long as it was on your hand.

‘always so hard for me, aren’t you?’ you mutter against his neck, still fondling his sensitive balls. his toes curl in his socks, keeping both feet firmly on the floor in an effort to ground himself.

there’d been a few instances of him cumming.. prematurely. and by prematurely he means, the second you touched him. he blames those times on the weed though. it was the only reasonable explanation.

‘s-sit on my face,’ he blurts out, unaware of what dark hole that had come from.

your eyes narrow, gazing down at him with your mouth hung open. that was definitely the wrong thing to say. he’d seen it in this one video and had started salivating at the thought of your pillowy thighs wrapped around his ears.

eddie hadn’t quite been able to make you cum yet. like, he was certainly making progress and you’d gotten close a couple of times but you had ultimately had to get yourself off. which he loved to watch.. he just wanted to be involved. he lived in pure amazement at how you just seemed to get there so quickly. sometimes it wasn’t even a minute with your hand between your thighs and you were whining and writhing around. how?

‘eds.. that’s- are you sure?’ eyeing him cautiously. why didn’t you just trust him? he’s pretty confident he had the technique down, ashamedly having practiced on his hand one night. yeah, that was awkward.

and the erection it had given him was too.

‘i’m sure.. please,’ he had figured out that as soon as he begged for something, he pretty much got it. maybe you had a fetish for pathetic men or something but all he had to do was plead a little and you were pouncing on him.

‘do you even know-,’

‘-yes i know what to do,’ he barks a little hastily. at least now you’d either punish him or would listen to him. either was fine.

you eyebrows fly up your forehead and he thinks for a second that he’s really in the shit. his cock jumps at the thought of you slapping him again or even better, wrapping your hand around his neck like you’d done the other day. now that really got him going.

‘okay.. but if it’s too much let me know,’ lifting yourself from his waist and shuffling upward towards his head. he’s drooling just thinking about it. wrapping his arms around the backs of your thighs just as the man in the video had. he could keep you in place perfectly like this.

‘come on,’ he sighs, watching as you slide your underwear down and off to the side, stopped just before his eager, salivating mouth. everything he had practiced came down to this very moment and he was more than ready to show you what he’d learned.

‘you’re so bossy now.. i don’t like it,’ frowning down to him, hand coming to hold onto your headboard. he had hoped that you’d pull on his hair again but was for sure not going to ask. ‘remember to tell me if it’s too much.. slap me or something, i’ll know,’ biting down onto your bottom lip.

he nods quickly, eyes sliding away from yours to your pussy poised above him. now, he didn’t have any much experience with pussy but he’d say that yours was perfect.

without wanting to waste anymore time, he pulls you down onto his mouth, tongue immediately lapping at your folds. just the way he’d practiced. he didn’t really have any preconceptions of what pussy would taste like but he’s pleasantly surprised. he’d keep you here all day if he could, who needed to breathe anyway?

‘ho-holy shit,’ you remark, clawing at your bed frame for a little balance. he thinks that’s a good thing, eyes trained on your face to determine whether he was doing this right or not.

his tongue slides up, circling around your sensitive clit. yeah, that’s it. he can tell when your eyes roll into the back of your head, hips stuttering on his face.

‘jesus eddie,’ you breathe, just hearing his name tumble from your lips does fucking wonders for him. it’s all the encouragement he needs to continue his assault on your cunt.

he murmurs something in utter gratitude when your hand leaves the headboard to instead tangle into his hair. mouth vibrating against your pussy which is another hit. the gorgeous sounds of your moans fill the room, only slightly muffled by your legs over his ears.

it’s now or never. he has to pull out the big guns.

tongue leaving your clit to slide into your dripping hole. soaking his chin, his lips and probably his shirt in your arousal. he didn’t mind one bit. it’s like a badge of honour to know that he was responsible for the mess.

‘fuck,’ you hiss, fisting his curls as your eyes squeeze shut. eddie wants to scream when your eyes roll back, his fingers digging into your fleshy thighs.

oh my god. this was paradise. utter heaven. his heart swelling a little knowing that you were cussing fretting because of his mouth. you were so gorgeous from this angle. well, from all angles but particularly this one. looking totally blissed out on top of him, your lips opening to let out the most insatiable noises he’d ever heard.

your fingers yank at his curls, legs trembling around his flushed face, ‘i’m gonna- eds, i’m cumming,’ thighs clamping around his head as your hips roll forward on their own, trying to escape the overstimulation.

eddie’s desperate to keep you there, using his palms to hold you steady while he’s literally making out with your pussy. lapping at your clit, at the juices that now covered his face. except his stomach tightens, slowing his pace until he realises what’s happening.

oh shit.

his hips buck up into the air on their own and his boxers feel incredibly wet and sticky. he’s just came in his pants by eating you out. that’s ridiculous. utterly unbelievable that someone could be that tragic.

you were definitely going to laugh at him when you realised but there’s literally not a chance that he could hide that. he lets go of his grip on your thighs, moving one hand over his crotch as you shuffle off of him.

bastard. pathetic fucking bastard.

you hadn’t even touched him yet. how was he going to explain that? i’m just so sickly obsessed with you that i came in my pants. that didn’t sound like anything a normal person would say.

his eyes remain shut, laboured breathing as his mind attempts to take him out of this room and far, far away. it’s not fucking working. especially not when he can hear your panting next to him, the rustling of the sheets as you sort them out.

your eyes travel to his covered crotch with a confused expression until you notice the dark latch and it finally clicks. ‘did you cum in your pants?’ you exclaim and he thinks that this right here might just kill him off.

he nods quickly, point blank refusing to open his eyes. it was easier this way, at least his tears of embarrassment would be somewhat hidden. you could’ve just done the polite thing and ignored it. made up some excuse about going to class and then you could disappear from his life. god, why did you have to be such a-

‘that’s so hot,’ you continue, cutting his thoughts short at just the right spot. pressing your warm body into his side as you settle into bed.

‘what? no it’s not..’ brave enough to open his eyes to look at you, confusion plastered over his face. surely you were just joking. no woman in the history of the world would find his inadequacy hot.

‘who are you to tell me what i can or can’t find hot?’ prodding at his cheek, offence ribbed throughout your response.

this surely requires a marriage proposal or something of that nature, right? like, there’s not a possibility that he could ever let you get away now.

his lips twitch into a smile, taking his hand from his crotch to wrap his arm around your shoulder. the confidence was next level and almost unheard of but he had to show you a little appreciation after you’d just told him his premature orgasm was attractive.

‘don’t ever tell me what i can and can’t like again,’ you jokingly warn, resting your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

he speaks up after a few moments of silence, unsure of if you’re even still awake, ‘thank you.. for letting me do that,’ staring up at the ceiling. eddie thinks that he likes eating pussy. really likes it. especially yours.

you laugh sleepily, throwing an arm over his torso. it’s music to his ears. if making you cum was top priority, then making you laugh was a solid number two.

‘you don’t have to thank me every time,’ yawning into his chest. it’s technically still the middle of the day but if you were going to sleep, he sure as hell wouldn’t complain.

instead he’d lie there as still as he possibly could. kinda like when a cat falls asleep on your lap and you just can’t move for the rest of the day. he’s prepared to take that sacrifice.

he must’ve dozed off at some point too because he wakes up to a short knock on your bedroom door.

you’re dead to the world. completely unaffected by the sound, curled into the blanket. super adorable with your cheeks squished togeth-

the door knocks again and he jumps up, not wanting whoever it is to wake you. he hadn’t exactly thought of the consequences of answering your door. half naked at that.

‘oh! eddie.. wasn’t expecting you,’ nancy responds, eyebrows flying up her forehead. he’s such a moron. it would’ve been ten times easier to just ignore the door because now he had to explain why he was stood in his underwear in your room.

perfect.

‘oh yeah.. got too high.. had to sleep it off, yanno?’ chuckling awkwardly, desperately trying to hide behind the door. he hopes to the high heavens that his boxers aren’t stained. he’d either look like the worlds biggest creep or like the completely pathetic freak that he was. he wasn’t keen on either option.

only you could know just how pitiful he truly was.

her eyes travel to his bare legs and back up again, ‘uh huh.. well, we’re ordering pizza if you two want in..?’ giving him a tiny smile. she’s so polite that now he just feels weird. god dammit, they’re friends, his pasty little legs being out should not make him feel so exposed.

‘oh yeah uh.. i’ll ask her,’ glancing over to your very unconscious state on the bed. he wasn’t keen on the idea of waking you but did think that it’d be rather unforgivable if he didn’t. plus he was hungry.

‘okay.. don’t take too long,’ wiggling her eyebrows at him and disappearing off back downstairs. shutting your door with a quiet click.

fucking nancy wheeler and her politeness.

he slinks back over to the bed, shaking your shoulder ever so gently, ‘hey.. wake up,’ trying his hardest not to alarm you.

it works somewhat, your eyes springing open as you wake. blinking up at him from your blanket cocoon. he feels terrible but man’s gotta eat. it does occur to him now that it would’ve been a pleasant surprise to wake you with a pizza rather than just so abruptly.

‘wha- what?’ rubbing your tired eyes as you come to. you’re so cute like this, he wouldn’t mind waking up to this sight every morning. okay, maybe he’s getting ahead of himself here.

‘er.. they’re ordering pizza.. nancy asked me if you wanted anything?’ still standing sheepishly over your bed. his eyes trail down to where your thigh had poked out of the duvet, how they were keeping his face warm barely a few hours ago..

‘oh,’ you sigh, ‘yeah.. just cheese please,’ snuggling back up into the bed, ‘there’s a twenty on my desk, get whatever you want,’ closing your eyes again.

‘oh.. okay,’ he nods, even though you obviously can’t see him. deciding that this time, he’ll be more appropriately dressed to converse with your roommates. seemed like the right thing to do. plus he’s sure robin would definitely have plenty to say if he came downstairs half-dressed. and none of it good.

he ignores the money on your desk. as fucking if he’d let you pay for your own food after you had so graciously fed him earlier. not happening. like, ever again.

following the voices into your kitchen to find nancy and robin sat around the kitchen island, phone poised in her hand ready to go.

‘you’re in luck, i was just about to call.. what d’you want?’ robin asks, raising a singular brow. nancy had obviously filled her in on what had been behind your bedroom door.

‘just cheese.. please,’ ignoring how ridiculous the unintended rhyme made him sound.

‘is that for both of you?’ she looks on, a glint of something indescribable in her eye. he wishes he knew how to decipher women. you’re all so fucking complicated and weird. in the best way, of course.

‘uh.. yeah?’ looking on tentatively, unsure of what she could possible be implying.

‘she won’t share, better to get your own,’ she nods. oh. she was being nice. he’s sure there’ll be a catch somewhere.

‘oh right.. okay,’ he fumbles around in his pocket for his wallet, tossing a couple twenties onto the marble. maybe if he covered their food too, he’d get in their good books and would be welcomed back with open arms. he’s sure he could endure that.

pay for food and get magnificent pussy in return. seemed fair.

the two girls sit in silence until he gets to the bottom of the stairs and then robin pipes up once again, ‘will we be seeing you around here regularly, mr. munson?’

he pauses, staring back into the kitchen at the two girls. he’s not sure how to even respond. because actually, he’d been at your house every night this week, right under their noses. and if he were to hazard a guess, he’d be here most of next week too. and the next.

okay, maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

‘uh.. maybe?’ he shrugs, chuckling nervously. robin’s eyes are like slits, staring him down. she’d always been rather intimidating and now was no exception.

‘hm,’ she nods, shooing him off back up the stairs, ‘you’re dismissed,’ still clutching onto the clunky plastic phone.

he disappears rapidly, not wanting to hang around to find out what else she was going to pry about it. eddie reckons that he’s good at secrets, but if he was truly pressed, he’s not so confident in his ability to keep quiet.

you’re awake when he returns to your room, still dozing in bed but awake. he slinks back in, grateful to be away from their prying questions. you’re so sweet like this. not that he didn’t also adore the bossy, demanding side of you but he appreciated the docile part too.

‘you didn’t take my money,’ you point out, frowning at him from the pillow. he shuffles over to your side of the bed, smiling sheepishly.

‘i wanted to pay.. to say thank you,’ he nods, fiddling with his belt loop. he’s aware that you had already told him to stop saying thank you but he truly had to express his gratitude somehow.

‘stop doing that,’ you frown, glaring up at him, hand appearing from the blanket to grab onto his shirt. ‘if i didn’t want to have sex with you, i wouldn’t,’ fisting the material to pull him closer to the bed.

eddie’s not the most sturdy, stumbling and ultimately falling on top of you, just about catching himself before his head smashes into yours. that’d look really good to the girls he was trying to impress if he gave you a black eye, robin would probably get the pitchfork ready to murder him.

you squirm beneath him but your smile says it all, still clasped onto his tee. you’re slightly intimidating like this, well, you were all the time. but especially like this. just mere millimetres away from his face, gazing up at him with those bright eyes. he’s sure they held the glow of a thousand suns in them.

he breathes out shakily, fully aware that his entire body weight was on top of yours, ‘yeah.. shit, sorry,’ far too mesmerised by your eyes to want to move just yet.

‘apology accepted,’ you grin, smashing your lips to his, hand still fisted into his shirt. it’s lazy and messy, tongue creeping into his mouth the second you get the chance.

eddie can feel your thighs move, spreading apart to pull him in closer despite the barrier between you. holy shit. he didn’t think he’d find this so incredibly hot. grinding against you between the blanket.

downstairs, robin and nancy share a certain look when they notice the faint knocking of your headboard against the wall. robin’s nose curling the second she realises just what was happening. feeling the instant regret of ever asking him if he was to be around more often.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic

2K notes · View notes

randombush3 · 11 months

Text

labor omnia vincit

alexia putellas x reader

words: 7538

summary: well, it’s how you meet your wife (posh + becks style)

content warnings: a little bit of drugs and alcohol

notes: HEY HEY HEYY. this is a TRILOGY and here’s the first part. enjoy the build up x

2015. London.

You groan at the thought of singing another word. The mug set haphazardly on the ledge reserved more for instruments than crockery, half in the air after the last time you returned it to its place, is now empty. There is no hot water left to soothe your burning throat, and there is no patience remaining in your finite store.

The girls, on the other hand, seem to soldier on. A harmony is incorrect? They sing it again. The producer, a fat old man called Dave whose taste in music might rely on his taste in women, isn’t a fan of a certain beat? They are thinking of ways to change it.

Ever since your single was released two years ago, this has been your life. Or, at least, the less glamorous side of it. The other side, consisting of sold-out arenas, exclusive clubs, and a world tour that only increased your total domination over the music industry, has been paused while you and the girls slave away on the second album. Apparently, you’re being uncooperative. You would call it boredom.

“It’s four in the morning, Dave,” Anya states, jabbing out her index finger towards his Rolex, paid for with the revenue from the last single you released. It topped the charts for days. Dave glances down at the clock face with a grunt. “Look, Y/n’s already left us and gone to bed.”

“Still here,” you murmur, rather unconvincingly, from your spot on the far-too-comfortable sofa behind the mixing desk. Sprawling out even further, you wrap your legs around the third member of your group, Gio. She squeals as you pull her on top of you. “I want to go home, though.”

“Don’t we all know it,” Gio giggles. She’s had at least six cups of coffee since you arrived at the studio for the second recording session of the day – a solid nine hours ago. That was only after a break for a late lunch or early dinner (whichever your dietician preferred to call it).

“We need to finish.”

“I need to sleep,” you reply. Gio scrambles off you in time to avoid the glare you are sent by your producer. “And I’m not sleeping here again. Last time it gave me a crick in my neck and I’m fairly sure the cleaner felt me up.”

“The sexy cleaner is mine,” Anya declares, jerking you upright. Your stomach lurches with emptiness. “Otherwise, I agree. Let us fuck off home. Please, Dave.”

He looks at the three of you, bags under your eyes, making long rubbed off (or cried away, in Gio’s earlier over-emotional state). You have changed out of the outfit the paparazzi pictured you in earlier, opting for the stained, grey joggers you folded away in your Birkin. Anya and Gio snuck in so that they weren’t caught in their pyjamas.

Dave sighs.

“Tomorrow, don’t go for lunch with any of your silly boyfriends. Come here for noon, and we’ll finish when we finish. We’re getting this album done, and you can’t fire me until it’s out.”

His sense of humour is appreciated, even if his work ethic is not, and you practically bolt out of the studio, friends in tow.

Anya grabs your hand as you rush down the corridor, making your way to the exit. “No lunch with your boyfriend,” she repeats Dave’s words, mocking his gristly voice. You roll your eyes, snatching your hand away from your friend before pushing open the back door of the studio, heading towards your new BMW i8.

You have been friends with Anya Kazi and Giovanna Bartoli since the age of two, meeting them on the first day of nursery, specifically after cutting one of Gio’s ringlets off with safety scissors. Though Anya happily clapped along, she did not defend you, and so you went for her hair as well. Your teacher, hoping to quell the budding animosity, placed all three of you in time-out, where a united front was formed. It hasn’t been broken since that moment, though a few years ago, you were terrified it would be. You, with a well-concealed preference for women, however, have managed to keep your friends. They assured you that they 1) already knew and 2) could not care less.

“You don’t even like cars,” Gio scoffs at the sight of your latest purchase, your last name printed proudly on the number plate. “Was this an ‘I’m famous’ buy or did your daddy get it for you?”

“He emailed me a few recommendations,” you answer off-handedly, sliding into the driver’s seat, switching on the ignition. It growls with a mean, menacing precision, the engine’s quality known and heard. “And don’t pretend that your family doesn’t have a Roll-Royce parked in the driveway of their million-pound townhouse.”

“You are just as much from Hampstead as I am, girl.”

You roll your eyes, stifling a yawn. Anya pulls out in front of you, no doubt speeding off to avoid the boy-racers you and Gio become at this time of night.

Your flat has progressed from that of the one you shared with the girls in Princess Park two years ago. It’s nicely decorated, you like to think, with most of the work being done to it while you were touring.

The walls are hung with artwork; some your own, some not. The canvases and frames adorn every room, dictating the vibe, declaring your individuality to any visitors who choose to admire the paintings and sketches. Then, if they were to look at the shelves dotted around the space, they’d see books with matching themes to the art. Your living room has a print of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’, blown up in a gilded frame, hanging above your green leather sofa, adding colour to the white walls, and then a bookshelf filled with navy-bound novels about whatever you fancy. You’re quite chuffed with the design, though it was really the interior designer you hired who came up with the idea.

Without a second glance to any of the intricate details of your home, you stumble your way to the bathroom, going through the motions until it is time to get into bed. It’s a big bed – one that often feels too big for just one person – but the mattress is inviting and you dive into a deep sleep head-first, knowing you will not be getting up until someone calls you tomorrow morning.

…

Barcelona, seven hours earlier.

The bar is busy, as most are in Barcelona at this time of night, and the girls are out for dinner and a post-training drink. The wine glasses have deceived them all, though, because they have been emptied and refilled a few more times than Xavi would be impressed with.

A young, budding star does not drink during the season, the alcohol drought both self-inflicted and encouraged by every coach who promises to take her far. Her eyeliner must be smudged by now, but Alexia can’t leave yet because Jenni has promised that she can stay over at her place and she needs her to take her back.

The reason for her temporary relocation is that Alexia is fed-up with her mother’s pestering, seeing as it is only one week into the season and she is already being called a workaholic. She can’t stay in that house tonight, especially when her little sister is the complete opposite: sleeping with anyone who gives her a chance and never doing anything that will help her future. Eli Segura is baffled by the lack of balance in her life – two daughters, two extremes – but she is the most concerned with her eldest, angering Alexia to no end.

Alexia is also fed-up with this conversation. It’s all the girls seem to be talking about these days, utterly consumed with this new English girl group just like the rest of the world. 2sday has completely taken over all interesting topics of discussion, and Alexia doesn’t think she can handle being asked which one of their songs she likes the most one more time.

She likes them, she guesses, but so does everyone. Todo el mundo is in love with all three members.

The girls are discussing who their favourite is.

“She’s Italian though, and that’s cool of her,” Jenni argues, putting forward her case for Bartoli as if she chose to have parents from a certain country. Alexia hums in thought, thinking of the pictures she saw from the world tour – how long her legs are, tanned and sculpted and shown off nicely by the mini-skirt she wore. “Did you know that her little sister is a model? She’s called Cristina or something. The beauty is practically in her DNA.”

“Aren’t all three of them models?” asks Marta pointedly, finger tapping the photoshoot on the magazine cover.

“Well, all three of them are sexy,” Jenni replies, remembering just how enamoured the world is with the three break-out stars. “Ale, which one is your favourite?” The magazine that had sparked this conversation is slid towards the twenty-one-year-old, and she looks at the picture on the front page: you, Gio, and Anya, all dressed in oversized suits with nothing underneath, hair slicked back and eyes piercing, ‘girl power’ brandished over the bottom of the photograph.

“Y/n L/n,” Alexia answers easily, fascinated by the sculpture of your face. She thinks you are beautiful, in a less crass way than her teammates. “And you lot sound like men with the way you talk about them.”

“Ooh, Alexia is getting all high-and-mighty,” Jenni teases. “Looks like it’s time to take the baby home.”

“She’s cranky because she’s tired and it’s past her bedtime,” adds another teammate, though Alexia is too wound up to really care who.

They all make little pouty faces at her as she finishes the last of her glass of water, the clear liquid standing out against the deep red of most of the table. Jenni rolls up the magazine and swats her shoulder with it, before handing it over to its owner and finally allowing Alexia her rest.

In silence, they sit in her car – an old Ford in need of replacing but not on the footballer’s list of things she will buy with the money they are now getting. FC Barcelona Femení has become, at last, a fully professional team, and Alexia looks ahead to the future with a hopeful dream and the knowledge that she will need to work hard if she ever wishes to become the best. Jenni has become a good friend ever since she joined the club last year, and she brings a global ambition to the friendship that she knows Alexia does not have. Jenni is from Madrid, and plays for Barcelona because she can, not because it is her club. Her team is the same as her grandfather’s, and she often expresses to Alexia her wish to play for them someday, as well as scoring in every league she possibly can. Young Alexia Putellas has never once considered stepping foot outside of Spain.

Not only that, but her father died three years ago and here, in Barcelona, is where she feels closest to him. She cannot fathom a life past the plazas and the cobbled streets of her home. And she’s glad. She’s safe here, and she needs nothing more than her team, her family, and a football at her feet. What more could she possibly want?

As she settles on Jenni’s sofa, blanket pulled over her body, head resting on a plump cushion that smells faintly of Jenni’s dog, Alexia decides to watch whatever is on TV right now. Jenni, in an attempt to learn English, has found an English news channel that seemingly reports on ‘exclusive’ celebrity news. There you are, plastered on the screen, your picture zoomed in to the point of the pixels blurring.

The woman speaking has a high-pitched and critical voice, saying words that Alexia does not hear. She stares at your picture, considering the life you have, imagining that, one day, footballers like her have the stardom of Beckham and Messi and Ibrahimovic. Though she herself does not crave that exposure, well aware of her shyness, she thinks about the future with a wistful sigh, lost in her dream as the English woman narrates what she can see, judging how you have opened your mouth to take a bite of the food, listing the brands you are wearing.

And, in her weird, exhausted haze, she sees your face. It’s probably only because you’re on the screen and she’s staring at it, but you are there as she pictures the growth of women’s football. You’re there in the stands as she plays in front of a sold-out Camp Nou, cheering and singing along to Catalan chants she knows you’d never actually know in real life. Slowly, she falls asleep, and, just before she closes her eyes, you are there: back to her, dressed in a familiar shirt. Alexia. 11. Somewhere in a far-off fantasy land, Alexia Putellas marries you that night.

…

It’s Sunday.

You drive to your parents’ house in Hampstead, only twenty minutes away from the flat you now live in, to reluctantly attend their weekly Sunday Roast. Before, it was a condition of remaining on the booking list for the annual family holiday, seeing as you had declared university was going to wait until after your gap year and then had become a popstar instead. Now that both you and your brother can afford to come anyway, the tradition is there for sentimental value. A world tour made you realise how much you love them all, even your annoying older brother.

Your parents are lawyers who met at university and found love in a city that they never moved out of, both of them doing extremely well for themselves. They raised you and your brother to ski, horse-ride, and attend prep schools and public schools, although boarding school was not quite desirable. Your dad speaks in a booming voice, received pronunciation an act used for court, slight Mancunian accent lilting his words whenever he relaxes.

“Darling!” your mum exclaims, surprised at your attendance just like she is every week. “Come on in, come on in. Daddy has the footie on, and your brother is on his way. Don’t you have songs to sing? How come you’re here?”

Ushered inside your own home, you smell the brief scent of your family before adjusting to it all and fitting right back into the chaos. There’s beef in the oven, and the roar of the crowd playing faintly from the kitchen where your dad must be preparing the potatoes. He’s proud of his potatoes.

You slip off your shoes – a new pair of Uggs – and follow your mother to the kitchen. Dad is there, doing exactly what you’d expected, hands working instinctively as his eyes focus on the TV, mouthing along with the commentary as Manchester United take on their opponent. “Sit down,” Dad says as soon as you walk in, pointing at the stools tucked into the island. “We’re not doing too badly, and today should be an easy win.”

“I know. I do watch the football without you, Daddy.”

He tuts. “Yeah, but you don’t get the same level of commentary on your own. Plus, United isn’t even what I wanted to talk to you about. I have thought of a publicity move that you should definitely make – it would really help you guys out.” You entertain his suggestion, knowing that’s what dads do, sitting back on the stool with a smirk on your face, already thinking of an interesting way to tell him he is being stupid. “So, what I was thinking was that you guys do a half-time show! You love football, and the girls love footballers – what isn’t to like? Plus, I bet any club would jump at the chance to make some money from extra tickets sold just to see you.”

“And you haven’t already contacted our manager?” you check, finding your father to be quite unpredictable and rash. His ego is also far too inflated by clients who don’t see him for the kind but bumbling fool he truly is, and so he often takes it upon himself to put forward any ideas he has to your management team, much to everyone’s inconvenience (the last thing they need, amongst sorting out photos of you snogging girls and your friends in various compromising positions, is an old man telling them what he thinks will boost your image). “It’s a good idea, I must admit. I’ll bring it up.”

“Good stuff.” There’s a clang of metal as the potatoes go in the oven too, and the fridge opens with a pop as your dad begins to fish out the carrots and parsnips to complete your meal, Your mother is responsible for everything else. “Try to get it at Barcelona or Real Madrid,” he says off-handedly. “Imagine singing in the Nou Camp. That’d be crazy.”

“Not the appearance I dreamt of when I was little, but I’d still get to touch the grass,” you agree.

“Y/n, we knew you’d never be a footballer. You haven’t got the coordination for that.” They tried to support you, they really did, but then music lessons took over and the sport became a form of entertainment, not exercise. “Women’s football is really something, though. In twenty years, it’ll be good. Maybe you should invest.”

“I know zero women’s footballers, apart from – what’s her name? Kelly Smith. The English one?”

“The Arsenal player, yeah. It’s a shame we don’t have a proper women’s team.”

“Should I fund one?” you joke, but his face lights up and he has taken you seriously. “Okay, I know we’ve been successful thus far, but we haven’t raked in that much. Who knows! It could all go to shit and I could end up right where I started, in my childhood bedroom with no degree and no choice but to mooch off my parents.”

“I get the sense that you’re slightly stressed about this album,” Dad says slowly, smiling wide, proud to have worked you out. He has always been good at that; knowing what you are feeling. It is a wonderful trait for him to have, seeing as your mother struggles with emotional connection of any kind. She is too much of a corporate big-shot for that, anyway.

“It’s killing me.” You sigh, slumping on the stool. “It’ll be released and then we’ll hop on tour and I’m so tired. Anya has a crush and Gio’s dating someone and now all of our songs are about love and I just… I don’t know about that. I don’t know if I will ever know about that.”

And, though he hesitates, Dad walks around the island and places a hand on your shoulder, telling you that you will find the right man someday.

Deep down, he knows that the daughter who loved to watch football and never once commented on their hairstyles or pretty faces – the girl whose crushes on members of boy bands always seemed half-hearted and forced – is not a daughter who is going to bring home a man one day, with a smile on her face and a ring on her finger. He knows. It is quite possible that he has always known. Whether he is going to bring it up before you feel comfortable to talk about it is a different matter, especially since your mother has dreams of her daughter’s husband that she has whispered to him ever since they found out their second child was a girl.

Sunday is pretty routine, which you are grateful for. Your brother, also a lawyer, discusses his latest case, resembling the stories your father used to tell at the dining table: stories you’d both yawn at when you were younger. You dish out a few industry secrets, recounting your most recent trip to Cirque Le Soir. With disdain, your mother berates you for any possible drug-usage, scolding you for something you have not admitted to but somehow knowing that you are guilty of it anyway. It feels much like the family dinners of your teenage years, but you suppose that pop stars never really have to grow up and decide that it isn’t all bad. After all, you drive home in a very stylish car.

Then, the week starts with another gruelling, waste-of-time day at the studio, where you go inside before the sun comes up and emerge long after it has set. Dave is decently pleased with the vocals so far. There are another seven tracks to go, but most of those are being written by other people. Mark Ronson, you’ve heard, is open to working with your group. It’s all very exciting, even if you feel like you have run a marathon by the end of the day.

On Tuesday, you remember to tell your manager and publicist (she’s a woman of many talents) about your father’s idea. At first, her reluctance is extremely evident, but it later dissipates once she thinks about it, having promised you and the now-excited girls to see what she can do.

You are on a private plane to Barcelona before you can realise what is happening.

Bags packed with more make-up and spangled underwear than proper clothes, and sunglasses shielding your hungover eyes courtesy of last night’s consoling of a newly-single Giovanna Bartoli, you try your best not to vomit while in the air and even squeeze in a spot of light reading. The girls laugh (wincing at the sound) when they see you revisiting the Aeneid. You like Virgil, though, so you don’t mind.

“How many days are we here again?” Anya asks, equally hungover.

“Three,” replies your manager, not bothering to look up from her laptop. “Today, tomorrow, and the day after. Please check if the players are married before you do anything with them.”

“I’ve sworn off men,” mumbles Gio miserably. She stretches her legs out with a sniffle, and then draws them back in to protect her broken heart. “If I’d get off with any woman, I’d like her to be Spanish.” She clears her throat, the lump of tears disappearing as she retrieves her GCSE-level Español, giving it a shot. If not to be serious than to at least piss you off. “Hola. ¿Cómo estás? ¿Quieres dormir conmigo?”

“What? And then you’re going to shove your tongue down her throat?” Gio looks at you with a smirk. “That is not how you kiss a woman.”

“Hey, you can’t keep them all to yourself!”

You laugh, though your manager’s attention has been caught and she is already showing her disapproval. “It would be better that I did if that’s how you think it works.”

“None of you are kissing women.”

“That’s not fair,” Anya protests, upset that she didn’t even get to join in the conversation before it got shut down as swiftly as a rowdy houseparty in an American teen-movie.

“I agree. That’s not fair on Y/n, who actually needs to kiss a woman so her knickers aren’t in a twist all the time.”

“I’ll twist your knickers in a minute,” you threaten, fist raised to Gio in good humour.

“See what I mean? She needs to let off some steam.”

“Well, do it discreetly if you must. Do your shows, go out with the players, and bring whoever into your bed as long as they have tight lips and no vendetta against you. Gio, we’re going to have to say something about him ch–”

You gulp, not wanting your friend to cry again. “Wow, the view is really nice,” you interrupt, catching Anya’s appreciative nod in the corner of your eye as you splay your palm on the glass of the aircraft’s window, marvelling at Barcelona’s plazas and cobbled streets. Imagine this being your home, you think to yourself.

…

Jenni is squawking when Alexia makes her way into the circle of players during their drinks break. Alexia knows her friend is excited to go to the men’s game later on today, but she hadn’t realised it is to this extent until she gets grabbed by the forward and shaken as though she is a snowglobe.

“I got the golden ticket,” Jenni shouts in her ear, making their teammates around them laugh. “Me, you, and Mario are going to the match tonight!”

“I already knew that?” They don’t really get free tickets, but they can be heavily discounted. Tonight isn’t a super big deal, though Alexia may stand corrected. “Was I not supposed to know that?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Mariona says, squirting some of her water at the midfielder. She recoils from the droplets, but they land on her training top anyway, and Alexia is already pissed off with the entire world. “Alexia, do you seriously live under a football-shaped rock?”

Alexia takes a moment to brush off the teasing, picturing the bursting trophy cabinet that is almost within her grasp. “Yes, and it is very homely.”

“Madre mía, you are one of a kind,” Jenni says with a sigh, movements less aggressive as she drapes an arm around Alexia’s shoulders. “Guess who’s singing at half-time tonight. You’re going to drool so much that the people below us will think it’s raining.”

At this, Alexia knows exactly who Jenni is talking about, and she blushes though it could easily be mistaken for redness from exercising.

“I just think she’s pretty,” comes Alexia’s slightly defensive reply. They walk to the middle of the training pitch, rejoining the team as Xavi explains a confusing drill. Neither really listen.

“Is this your first celebrity crush?” Mariona jibes, overhearing the conversation and finding it necessary to join in. Any excuse to poke fun at the baby of the team.

Jenni ruffles Alexia’s hair, ruining her neat ponytail. “Alexia’s in love with a straight girl,” she sings.

It’s then that the whole team chooses to get involved, ears perking up at the mention of Alexia’s lovelife – a more or less forbidden topic. Their captain, Marta Unzué, even chimes in with a ‘we’ve all been there’. Like a stroppy teenager, Alexia folds her arms over her chest and turns to focus entirely on football, something that she knows she loves and loves her back. They leave her alone for the rest of the training session.

She even manages to forget about what comes after the first forty-five minutes of the match, sitting comfortably in a stadium that is her version of heaven.

You, on the other hand, cannot distance yourself from the nerves of performing in no less than ten minutes.

The players were nice when you accompanied Anya to speak to them, and they spent a good while fumbling their way through English to invite you all to join them tonight at Pacha. You took photos with Messi and Neymar to show your father.

The outfit, if you can call it that, is tight and could possibly show your entire bum to eight-five thousand Culers tonight if you’re not careful. Silver eyeshadow glistens in the mirror when you peer at your reflection, inspecting the bejewelled bralette and tiny shorts you are wearing.

Anya and Gio, who both look dazzling in their own silver combinations, tell you that it is time to get your microphones sorted. When you stand in the tunnel, ready to go out, you see that they have laid out a sheet on top of the grass so your heels don’t ruin it. Part of you wishes that you were in a football strip and boots. The music starts before you can get too reminiscent.

You sing with the same adrenaline you always get, and the crowd becomes a blur in your mind as you lose yourself to the melody. The bass hits your heart just like the lyrics do – especially since this song was written by Anya about her last boyfriend – and you hold back tears as the choreography leads your limbs in an energetic dance that must be entertaining to watch.

When it finishes, and your chest is rising and falling quickly as you try to catch your breath, Alexia thinks you almost catch her gaping at you. Your eyes seem to be scanning the stands. Maybe you see her.

Maybe that is why you, in your big, black hoodie and paparazzi-proof baseball cap are sitting in the stands of Estadi Johan Cruyff the very next day.

Alexia does not point you out to her teammates. You make it clear to all who recognise you that you are trying to be incognito, and either the fans at the stadium have no knowledge of popular culture, or they are granting you your privacy.

She is now the entertainer, shining under the spotlight of the bright sun, a ball at her feet like that is where all balls were made to be. And you watch carefully – she can feel it – but you do not stay long enough for her to even think about approaching you.

…

2016. Somewhere in the sky between LA and New York.

This time round, the tour has confirmed your hatred for all plane journeys, hotels, and sold-out concerts.

You’re dead on the inside, numb to the glitter and sparkles of your life, and your eyes are always halfway to being sealed shut in the deepest slumber humanly possible.

There are a few things that ease the disdain you have for your career, but none of those compare to the channel you have found that streams Barcelona Femení’s football matches. Your excuse, made to no one other than yourself, is that Manchester United has no women’s team. Of course you’d watch them instead, if you could.

“This is peak lesbianism,” Gio comments, her fifth time saying the exact same thing, prodding a napping Anya to alert her to your boredom-killer on the flight. You’re glad these planes have wi-fi. “We’re in America, which has all the women’s football in the world, and you still choose to watch your crappy little stream on your cracked iPad.”

“If you hadn’t decided to jump out at me, the screen would be just fine,” you grumble, transfixed on the way Alexia Putellas dribbles with the ball, turning and passing to Jennifer Hermoso who slots the ball right into the bottom-right corner of the net. The pitch looks damaged, and you really have researched how you can help out the sport, but it is hard to dispute anything the girls say about your crush on an unknown squad member when everyone knows you could get your football fix from the Premier League.

You’re yet to tell anyone that you have just bought this season’s Barcelona shirt. You’re not sure if you’d be invited on the family ski trip if your father were to find out.

“Sorry, sorry,” replies Gio, hands raised in the air, a gesture of surrender. In hindsight, your response was clipped. “Didn’t mean to distract you from such an important task. When will you tell us who it is that you fancy? We’ve been waiting for you to come to us, but, fuck me, you’ve got tight lips.”

“And, before you say it – we’re not nosy. We just care. And we find it cute.”

“And…”

“What?” you practically grunt, biting your tongue as a hefty challenge sends Alexia Putellas face-first onto the patchy grass. It makes your heart jump.

“Well, it’s not like she won’t want you, so make your move.”

“Just like you made your move on Justin Bieber?” She winces. “We did warn you, babe.”

“It’s alright,” Anya comforts with a small smile, though you are well aware of how funny she also found the situation. Being in LA, as a celebrity, is always an interesting experience. In Gio’s defence, she did not know about a certain model standing right behind her, and you are fairly sure she had run off to do lines with someone or other earlier. “But, yeah, seriously. Y/n, do you want us to guess?”

“Go on. Guess.” You smirk, because they’ll never–

Anya’s hand flaps as she puts her privately-educated memory to good use. “What’s-her-face?” she squeals, hand slapping down on her thigh as the name eludes her, the flapping resuming once she remembers. “Alexia Putellas!”

You rip your eyes from your cracked screen, widened in horror. “How did you know?” you ask, voice a whisper as you swallow your shock.

“You talk about her all the time. ‘Ooh, she’s the future’ this, ‘watch her grow’ that. Just talk to her. She’ll fancy you back.”

“She’s not a celebrity. Normal people don’t slide into people’s DMs like we do, and I have no clue whether or not she can speak English,” you reason, having said the same thing to yourself every time your finger hovers on that feature of Instagram. “And I don’t like her? You saw me kissing–”

“God, drop it. You know she kisses anyone with a mouth, and you also know that you’re lying your arse off. Whoever this footballer is, just talk to her. If anything, it’ll be good for you to spend time with someone who isn’t going to drag you right into their own closet.”

“Closets in LA can be very big,” you say with a sigh, having already received a lecture about the damage-control your publicist always seems to be doing. You don’t really think it’s ‘damage’ if a photo of you enjoying yourself with someone, but your publicity team deems any picture of you with a woman one to be locked away in some encrypted file and never released in the papers.

…

You: Hola! Congratulations on the win. :)

You cringe so hard, but you send it anyway, your friends leaning over either shoulder as they egg you on, wishing your closet gobbled you whole and spat you out somewhere further away than Narnia.

Alexia, in Barcelona, groans at the sound of her phone buzzing, wondering who on Earth is texting her this late.

And she drops the device on her face when she sees what the notification is.

Because it really does not make sense, and she is not used to the idea that women’s footballers could one day fraternise with celebrities like you without feeling out of place. (And she’s had a crush on you for about two years and you’re texting her at midnight to congratulate her.)

You, on the other hand, are gripping onto your phone with trembling hands, holding on for dear life. Anya, who claims her C in A-level Spanish was unjust and incorrect, is brainstorming your next message, adamant that you’ll seem cooler if you display some knowledge of her mother tongue. You don’t tell her that, of course, Alexia’s first language would have been Catalan, because you don’t want it to be obvious that you have done a little bit (a lot) of research.

Gio tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear for you – a comforting gesture. “Hey,” she says kindly, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

She tries.

She fails.

You have compiled a list within a millisecond. “I don’t know,” you start, but, oh, you do. “She could screenshot the conversation and leak it to Twitter? Or she’s not a lesbian and she is disgusted that I am? She could have a girlfriend? She could think my account’s been hacked and report me and everything’ll be deleted? Or all of the above?!”

The chat is still open on your phone, but you can’t see past your tidal wave of anxiety.

“I think you’re just nervous.” Understatement of the century.

Before you can make a snide remark saying exactly that but to Anya’s face, your message is no longer the only one present.

“She replied!” you shout, volume a concoction of fear and excitement and a thousand emotions in between.

Alexia: Gracias por ver :)

“Thanks for watching,” Anya translates.

You exhale. “Okay. Done. No more.” You ignore both of their facepalms with the sort of blissful ignorance you’re sure only delusional people possess, but it is better to have a healthy heart rate than to understand the lyrics to whatever ballad the two of them have in the works.

…

“Kiss her.”

“What?”

“Just kidding,” Jenni giggles, winking at Alexia and stealing her glass of something-not-too-strong.

The team has been invited to a party with the men’s team, all because their favourite girl group is back in town and are treating the club like a pit-stop on their way to Madrid for the European-leg of their tour. The album has been in the top ten worldwide ever since it was released.

Alexia looks good tonight, as said by Jenni who thought her wardrobe consisted solely of football strips and Barcelona merchandise, and she revels in her little secret. Your little secret. She hasn’t told anyone that you messaged her two months ago, even if the conversation ended with her response.

Which is why Jenni is set on teasing Alexia about her non-existent chance with you, especially when you have spent your entire night on the other side of the reception room, deep in conversation with Neymar Jr., who is not shameful about his appreciation for the plunging neckline of your tight dress. He has a girlfriend, but Alexia has seen enough tabloid headlines to know that most famous people don’t care.

Your glass is always full, though that is your own doing. Something about the way a pair of hazel eyes have been watching you from the minute you walked in makes the air around you feel heavier than it should, and alcohol helps to dull your fluster.

Anya and Gio have circled back a few times, adding to their persuasion each lap. When you see Gio heading your way, a small smile playing on her lips as someone or other trails behind, you excuse yourself from your conversation with your personal hero (who, sadly, would be able to describe your boobs but not your face if he were asked) and clasp your fingers around her forearm, pulling the two of you even further from a certain women’s footballer on the other side of the room.

“She’s staring,” says Gio in a low voice, leaning in to speak into your ear. “She’s staring at you like she wants to eat you.”

“I’d let her,” you reply, lips loosened from the champagne you’ve been drinking. “She is beautiful.”

“She is still staring.”

You decide to be bold. You stare back, and Alexia is trapped, frozen to the spot. “She is so beautiful.”

“Now you’re both staring.”

“I’m going to talk to her.”

“You should,” she encourages, slurring. The blur might come from your distraction, your drunkenness, or her own intoxication. You don’t care.

Absently, you nod. “Yeah.”

She presses her fingertips between your shoulder blades, cold hands making you shiver. “Go. You got this.”

“Yeah.”

She pushes you away from her, in Alexia’s direction. Your feet carry you on what feels like an inevitable path.

And you… walk right past her, out of the door, and into the warm air of the evening to have a smoke instead.

Behind you, Gio lets out a silent scream, turning right around and giving up on your happiness because what more can she do? And Alexia, who is confused about what just happened and bored of this event anyway, is glad to be given an excuse to leave.

Except, you are blocking her exit, cigarette pressed to your lips as you inhale the smoke like it is a lifeline. She frowns, lips a tight line of disappointment, really. “¿Tú fumas?” she asks, though she knows both the answer and of your incompetence when it comes to her language.

You let your eyes meet hers, and Alexia shivers, though she tells herself it is only because it’s November. “Hola,” you reply.

For some reason, Alexia is drawn in. She steps closer to you, and you don’t have anywhere to go, backed against the wall you are leaning on. You’re drunk, and the cigarette has burned down to a stub of orange and black. She’s also drunk – less so than you – and she has nothing to lose right now. She is no one, in her mind, and you are far from prudish.

She decides, once she is barely ten centimetres away from you, that your dress is provocative, but it only adds to your existing beauty. You push your chest out, standing up straighter.

The dance is very still, and very silent, but you can imagine what it feels like to kiss her and you know that she is thinking the same thing.

“You can, if you want to,” you whisper, hoping she understands.

Luckily, she does.

Alexia fumbles her way through the first tentative second, shocked that this is what she is doing, but she finds her footing and relaxes into the taste of champagne and cigarette smoke, the heat of your body sparking a fire within her. You pull her closer, pressing her body into yours, and you are now consumed by desperation. The kiss grows messier, and Alexia’s hands begin to roam, mind lost in a haze of desire. She is explorative but she is gentle, and you gasp into her mouth as her tongue pushes past your lips and a hand settles on the curve of your bum, the other cupping your jaw.

Briefly, she wonders how many girls you have done this with. You seem experienced. The thought, while a little disturbing, sort of spurs her on, feeding into her competitive nature. This will be unforgettable for her regardless of the outcome because it’s an interesting story to tell, but what about you? Are you even aware of what you’re doing? Are you straight? No, you can’t be. You messaged her, so you started this. She is only… finishing it?

You sense her distraction, pulling back with a blink and a deep intake of fresh air. She tries to move back, afraid of what comes next, but you don’t let her go, clutching onto the hardened muscles of her arms to hold her in place, ready to kiss her again.

The moment is spoilt by a voice – an English voice – and the theft of your attention. Your eyes, previously hooded and dark, widen as they flit towards the door behind her, terribly upset that your friends have developed the worst timing known to man. Gio shouts again, telling you that it’s time to go. You have to get to Madrid, and the pilot would be incredibly annoyed to hear that the flight was delayed because you were too caught up in snogging a girl you may or may not fancy.

“We really need to go!” Anya repeats, growing impatient with you as you debate giving up your entire music career. “Like, it is insane how badly you need to get your arse over here to say your goodbyes and then jump in the taxi to the airport with us.”

“Can it just–”

“No!” they both shout in unison.

You sigh, looking at Alexia, the proximity prodding at a feeling low in your stomach. She doesn’t squirm under the intensity of your gaze, instead sporting a lazy, blissfully ignorant grin. And you’re about to break her little heart.

“I have to go,” you say softly, forehead resting on her shoulder as you mumble your words out. You have a duty to your job, or, as Virgil puts it: labor omnia vincit. Work conquers all.

“You have to…?” she tries.

“Go.”

“Tiene que irse,” Anya translates, reminding you of her presence (and her much better comprehension of Spanish). “Ahora.”

“Ah.” Alexia’s hand cups the back of your neck as you raise your head, and she kisses you, though the kiss is short.

You pat your body down with a sudden haste, wandering past your alcohol-clouded thoughts to remember the location of your ticket, reaching down to grab your clutch from where you’d dropped it on the floor while having a smoke. It pops open as Alexia watches your movements, and you retrieve a pen and a scrunched up ticket (you have no idea why that’s in there, but you are grateful that it is).

“Here.” You hand her the ticket, pressing it into the palm of her hand and then sealing your goodbye with a quick peck to her lips.

Then, you are gone, running off at an impressive speed in those heels, chasing your friends into the building.

She pauses herself in time for a moment, drawing back her grasp on reality as her thoughts still and she breathes in your lingering perfume. And then she blinks – blinks her way back into midnight in Barcelona.

She opens her palm to see what your gift was, unfolding the piece of paper with an overwhelming curiosity that almost rips it at the edges.

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in fresh, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows.

Eleven digits.

Twenty-two-year-old Alexia Putellas, the catalyst for change in women’s football as the world knows it, suddenly sees her future set right out in front of her. Because there you are.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona

986 notes · View notes

gtgbabie0 · 1 year

Note

HI, i love your work about the marauders and hotd and i was wondering if u would write cregan stark fluff with jealous reader but if u don't want to its okay. HAVE A GREAT DAY

-Cregan Stark x reader

{House Ryswell seeks an audience with Cregan Stark, and their daughter seems to take quite a liking to him}

I got extremely carried away with this, I hope you enjoy lovelies! 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It's strange how time can seem so slow when your mood has been soured by something so silly, something that you're sure you have made up in your own mind, to defend the feeling of this unadulterated jealousy that slithers its way at your heart tugging on it every so often.

Foolish, you think, although you're not quite sure what exactly it is about this whole situation you find, foolish. Is it the way, Cregan smiles at the ever-beautiful Lady Darla of house Rsywell? or is it because your mind has convinced you that Cregan would break your trust like that? maybe, it's her ever thinking she stood a chance with your husband. Whatever it might be it's sure is foolish.

But it's real nonetheless, horrible and very real. The jealousy that bubbles deep within you only fuels the doubts that plague your mind, and those same thoughts conjure another dreadful feeling, something that pinches at your heart as you watch Lady Ryswell place a dainty hand on Cregan's arm, insecurity it finds an unwelcome home within your chest.

Despite sitting so close to Cregan, you still feel miles away, watching him converse, lost, within his own world with the Lady next to him. You feel ignored and as you glance around the room you're sure that everyone else sees it too, you've been pushed aside like some sickly wife that's nearing her time.

It's only when you hear Cregan's warm chuckle do you look over to the pair once again, her hand sits higher up on his arm, there's something about the sight that breaks you. As if it couldn't get any worse Drala turns to you with a smile that makes you sick to your stomach, warm and inviting.

"Your Husband is so charming Lady Stark" she giggles, her hand still against his arm, and you swear she squeezes it ever so softly.

Slamming your cup down against the wooden table, with more vigour than you had meant, you clear your throat, "Yes he is- charmed me right into marriage" It gets a laugh or two from the others is House Ryswell.

Drala's mother even leans to you whispering a humoured, "My husband could learn a thing or two" You watch as she glances over at him with a teary smile, he seemed quite caught up with gawking at the maids, "That man knows nothing of charm" she spits before leaning back into her chair.

Cregan's hand rests against your thigh, and for a second, your racing mind seems to calm down, it's as if you can finally breathe, and then he pulls away going back to what must be a riveting conversation with Darla. You've had enough of this torture, no longer being able to bare it you call for Lyra, keeping a hushed tone as she bends down to you slightly.

"I think I am ready to retire for tonight," you tell her through gritted teeth, trying to keep the barrage of emotions at bay, she gives you an understanding nod.

"Of course M'lady " She smiles softly as she hurries off to your bedchambers preparing a change of clothes for your arrival.

You stand keeping a strict posture, it's only now do you feel as if you finally have caught Cregan's attention. "Forgive me, but I think I shall call it a night" You bite back the tears that collect along your lash line nibbling your cheek.

"Aw already? Just when I thought our conversation was bearing good fruit" she whines, her voice going straight through you just like nails on a chalkboard, she pouts, a spoiled brat who knows no discipline.

"Oh please, don't feel inclined to stop on my behalf" You smile with a curt bow before turning your heel and leaving, ignoring the way Cregan calls for you, an advance he must've given up on quite quickly as Darla calls for more drinks practically begging your husband to stay, you don't hear the rest of the conversation too focused on trying to calm your breathing.

"Lady Stark" Lyra bows softly as you walk into your bedchambers, shutting the heavy wooden door behind you with an exasperated sigh. "I have prepared you some tea m'lady," she says with a gentle tone as you sit down in front of your vanity. She makes starts to unclasp your necklace.

"Thank you Lyra, you're far to-" and before you can finish your sentence the door opens with a low groan. You don't bother turning around already knowing who it is.

"Lyra, could you give us a minute" Cregan huffs, sounding very unamused as he walks into the candle-lit room.

"Of course m'lord," she says, bowing as she rushes out of the room, and it's then the silence hits, smothering the room with its thick presence that you're sure it could snuff out the flames of the various candles.

You look at him through the reflection of the mirror as he sits down on the fur-covered sofa, running a hand through his hair before finally glancing over at you, there's something in his eyes that makes you feel... small, you have always said you would hate to be on the receiving end of Cregan's anger, that any man to challenge him would be a fool.

"Would you like to explain to me what exactly just happened?" he asks, frustration seeping into his tone and your answer or rather lack thereof only fuels it further. "Do you find pleasure in ignoring me?" he huffs, giving you a rather annoyed look.

And as childish as it might seem, you were. "Yes, well now you know how it feels, don't you?" you mumble, untying the pins in your hair before taking off your rings.

"What?" he questions watching in slight shock as you stand up, the chair behind you drags along the floor with a shriek.

"Tell me, Cregan, do you think our marriage is a farce?" you ask turning to face him with tears in your eyes, tears that you try so hard to hold back, "Do you take enjoyment out of making a mockery of our marriage?" your hands shake with the sudden adrenaline as you point at him, your finger nudging his should as rage pinches at your skin, he looks up at you with hurt in his eyes and for a minute you feel inclined to apologise.

He stands up, trying to reach for your hands but you don't let him as you pull away from his touch, he accepts defeat with a heavy heart, the sight of your tearful face makes his stomach drop.

"A farce? What in the seven hells are you on about women?" the hurt that sits in his chest slowly churns into something much more as it wraps around his heart squeezing it with force.

"Do not play ignorant with me Cregan" You speak through gritted teeth as he inches closer to you, "You sat there the entire night ignoring me whilst you entertained that naive girl" You feel your knees buckle under the stress of it all as you fall back onto the bed with a soft bounce.

"I was merely trying to be a good host" his voice is so gentle, calm that it makes you angrier.

"Being a good host does not substitute you pushing me aside like some sick dog as you fool around with her!- the entire night." you huff biting the inside of your lip.

"You're jealous?" he asks in almost disbelief.

"What?- Jealous I'm-" You can't deny it, you were, you were jealous of the pretty Ryswell girl and how she seemed to have captured Cregan's attention.

"You are missing my point entirely," you whisper leaning into him as he sits down on the bed next to you.

"I'm sorry- you're right, I should've paid more attention to you," he says, wiping away the tears that fall from your eyes, "I meant no harm by it, I swear." he presses a gentle kiss to your hairline.

"It was embarrassing Cregan, the way they all looked at me with pity in their eyes. I am your wife." you sigh, the events of tonight wearing down on you more than you thought, and now the fabric of your dress felt all too tight and itchy.

"Forgive me my love- my beautiful wife" he says pressing another kiss to your shoulder as he helps you up from the bed.

"You can get Lyra to help me if you want to go back to entertaining our guests" you whisper, testing him a little as you sneak a glance his way.

"There are no guests to entertain sweetheart, I called it off as soon as you left," he mumbles against your neck as he continues to peppers soft kisses to your warming skin.

He undoes the lace of your dress, pulling at the fabric as it loosens around your shoulders, coming undone to reveal your back, his gentle fingers trailing along your spine as his soft lips traverse to your neck.

"I never meant to hurt you or make you doubt your place within my heart" he whispers as he tugs your dress completely off, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud before going to get your nightdress, slipping the soft fabric over your body before wrapping his strong arms around your middle, nuzzling his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he breathes in deeply.

"I swear, by the old gods and new that my heart belongs to you, all of it." Cregan turns you around to face him and it's only then he sees your tear-stained face, the way your bottom lip juts out at his loving words.

"I love you," he says as you push your face against his chest, letting all the built-up emotions go as they leave you in the form of tears. His big hand soothes the expanse of your back as he sways you in his arms ever so gently. He swears to never make you feel as you did tonight, ever again.

"I love you too" you whisper against the leather he is wearing. He cups your face within his hands, the warmth of his palms bleeding with affection as his thumb soothes against the apples of your cheeks.

"Come on my love, let's go to bed eh?" you nod as he tucks your hair behind your ears. You fall asleep wrapped up with him, a mess of limbs underneath the furs as he holds you gently and in the morning and every morning after that Cregan sings your praises, never letting you doubt your place beside him, ever.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

1K notes · View notes