#one day these two will learn to coexist

[kakusboyfriend]

Sits you down. Ok so orchard and citrus are also mirrors in the sense that they both have a hidden violent side fueled by intense anger. But Citrus' is the result of a violent life simmering down until there's barely any trace left of it save for some specific situations, and Orchard's is the result of a man whose kindness was and still is what he's most known for but his life was shifted so rapidly it's no wonder he's become volatile as a result.

Do you get it. Im fucking crazy about them. I never drew orchard digitally and it makes me INSANE

[crepuscularray]

Deercember Day Thirty: Megaloceros giganteus | Great Feast

Megaloceros giganteus, also known as the Irish elk, giant deer, or Irish deer, is an extinct species and is one of the largest deer that ever lived. Its range extended across Eurasia during the Pleistocene, from Ireland (where it is known from abundant remains found in bogs) to Lake Baikal in Siberia. The most recent remains of the species have been radiocarbon dated to about 7,700 years ago in western Russia. Its antlers, which can span 3.5 meters (11 ft) across, are the largest known of any deer. It is not closely related to either living species called the elk (Alces alces or Cervus canadensis), with it being widely agreed that its closest living relatives are fallow deer (Dama spp.). A handful of Irish elk depictions are known from the art of the Upper Paleolithic in Europe. However, these are much less abundant than the common red deer and reindeer depictions. The bones of the Irish elk are uncommon in localities where they are found, and only a handful of examples of human interaction are known. More information here.

References: Deer, Megaloceros Design 1, Megaloceros Design 2, Cat, Smilodon Design, Style Suggestion.

[hollow-prey]

I'm not jealous of my f/o and their canon ex I'm not jealous of my f/o and their canon ex I'm not jealous of my f/o and their canon ex I'm not jealous of my f/o and their canon ex I'm n-

[mrsbarnesblog]

the "it" couple

masterlist

requests are open

summary: you and Rafe being the hottest couple on the island

word count: 1.3k.

warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of nude pictures, Rafe is reader's first everything, you're both lovesick

a/n: my obsession with soft and painfully in love Rafe is not curable at this point. but like could you imagine having him all to yourself?? ughhh the things i'd let him do to me😩

Everyone knew that there are couples that, at first glance, give you the impression that they just have really good sex. Like they are so hot and perfectly compliment each other, with a certain vibe oozing out of them, especially when they are together. 

You and Rafe were that couple. 

Before you started dating, no one ever considered that two polar opposites like you might even coexist. You were a kook, but still completely different from Rafe and his little gang. You were pretty, but more on the quiet side, never showing off or bothering anybody.

Rafe, on the other hand, was mean and sarcastic to everyone and everything. It was a good thing that you put him in his place the first time he talked to you, making it clear that you are not having his shit. And also making Rafe instantly interested and following you like a puppy.

You were annoyingly teasing and flirting with each other, and everyone tried not to get involved in whatever was going on. It was your first experience with a guy, because before that, nobody was really making their shots, or, at least, you never paid enough attention to notice it, choosing to focus on yourself. But with Rafe, it felt fun and so damn easy. 

Your first kiss set everything in its place because you finally gave in to your hidden emotions. It made sense why you were always arguing and pestering each other—you simply craved attention from one another and it was the easiest way to get it. 

Surprisingly, Rafe’s rough edges softened, especially around you, and he was so affectionate and craved you around him 24/7. Though, knowing that you’ve never been in relationships before, he never pushed you to do anything, just following your pace. 

But after your first time happened in the third month of dating, after the ice melted and your insecurities fully disappeared, Rafe almost got another version of his girlfriend. 

If he thought that you couldn’t be better, then he was wrong. 

He never understood his friends who said that they had to almost beg their girlfriends to have sex, mostly because Rafe had never been in actual relationships before. But it made even less sense for him because you, seemingly, had the same energy and high sex drive as him. 

The first few times may have been slightly awkward with you still learning and trying to understand your own body, but once you got confident, you became unstoppable. 

Whether it was early morning, the middle of the day, or way past your bedtime, you were ready to have sex right away, straddling Rafe's legs or luring him into a kiss while your hands slipped under his pants.  

It was crazy how much you both wanted each other. It was a perfect fucking match to have someone with exactly the same needs. You probably have been bent over every single flat surface in the house and not a single room was safe from the two of you. He wanted you all to himself and he could go hours just worshiping your body and fucking you into bliss. 

You were almost glued together, never coming to an event alone. Rafe was so obsessed with the way you looked, with your smell, and with the feeling of your skin on his, so he always had to touch you one way or another. His friends teased him that he was absolutely pussy whipped for you and he had never denied it. They also started calling you Mrs. Cameron because you acted like a married couple and neither of you were against that nickname.

To say more, the idea of that made Rafe so feral for you, so he didn’t let you get out of bed the following day. Not that you complained, though.

Rafe loved sneaking out with you. Whenever you two had to visit a gala with your families, he always snatched you from the main room to drag you to the bathroom or another hidden place to have a quickie or to burry his head under your dress because you were too hot to resist. Yeah, maybe other people noticed it, giving you their usual politely awkward smiles, but neither of you care. 

On his birthday, you gave him the best fucking gift, which was a stack of your naked polaroid pictures. You were really nervous to do that, thinking that Rafe might react differently, but he reminded you once again why he was your perfect match. After looking through the photos several times, he literally attacked you, throwing you back on the bed and giving you the best orgasms of your life. 

Since that day, one of the less explicit pictures of your ass has been placed in his wallet.

You were officially the “it” couple on the island, with everyone either admiring or being jealous of that spark, which never seemed to diminish. Everyone saw the way the Rafe Cameron gave you heart eyes, soft smiles and gentle kisses. The way he held you close to himself, protecting you, taking care of you, and treating you like a queen.

Some people told you that it was only the excitement of a new relationship, but after a few years of dating, with a promise ring on your finger, it was still there. You still craved each other's touch; you still craved being together whenever it was possible, always going on dates and trips, attending all of Kook’s events, but mostly spending lazy days in your shared house. Sex was even better than before—more passionate, fun, hot and full of unconditional love.

Despite the gossip on the island, Rafe didn't get “bored” of you. No, over time, he became addicted to you because you felt like home, and there was nothing better than being with you. 

He didn't need any other women. And he still couldn't grasp the idea of cheating. If he had you, then why on earth would he do that? Every time he came home, the best person in the world and the best sex of his life were in that exact location, so he never complained about anything.

You were his afrodisiac and whether you were in full glam, in a bikini on the beach or in his old t-shirt with messy hair, he couldn’t just keep his hands to himself and not kiss the air out of you. 

He liked how you stayed at home, doing whatever you wanted and treating yourself while he worked. You always greeted him with homemade food, but more importantly, you acted as if you had not seen him in months.

You were waiting on the porch or finishing up in the kitchen, but when you saw him, you ran and jumped into his arms and pulled him into a kiss. It always melted Rafe’s worries and bad mood away, as his shoulders sagged in relief from being in your arms again. 

You always ended up in your bedroom, with you on or under him, while your hands were tugging at each other’s closes. Rafe knew that it would eventually end up with him finally putting a baby in you—something that more and more flooded his mind—but for the foreseeable future, he first had to officially make you his Mrs. Cameron.

And the red box with the big ass diamond ring, which was currently sitting in the drawer, was just waiting for the perfect moment.  

[homunculus-argument]

A planet that's so similar to Earth that a species that looks and moves uncannily like humans has emerged due to covergent evolution. But these humanlike creatures are not the spacefaring species of the planet - the alien species capable of space travel is different, more clever, gained advantage earlier, one could say that the humanlike species never evolved the same path as humans did specifically because this other type of creature beat them at the race to become the planet's top apex predator, and could no longer be dethroned.

Instead, the two learned to coexist, and the species that would one day sail to the stars domesticated the humanoids, becoming allies and partners instead of rivals in some needless competition for space and prey. The creatures that never were quite human to begin with settled comfortably to a new position, as the top apex predator's allies, guards and friends. Fed and cared for, they became instinctively trusting of these aliens who would one day journey across the stars, and would encounter humans. And in return, their carers did the same, regarding their companions as beloved friends as well as servants and tools.

And now that they've met with humans, who are so eerily similar to that familiar species at home, they struggle to resist the urge to go "doggy!" and casually pet the starship captain's head.

[k8martins]

. ⋆ ๑ wrapped around your finger

summary: reader is a new medical intern for the lvaces and tension runs high every time they interact, finally breaking after a tough game

request: no / yes

warnings: 18+ smut, rpf

a/n: this is my first kate fic so go easy on me lmfao and i got lowkey carried away it’s around 2k words so ummmm ya purr i guess

back in april, you landed a medical internship for the las vegas aces, just in time for the excitement of draft season. not only did your job enable you to interact daily with some of the most talented athletes in basketball, but perfectly coexisted with your interests in pursuing medicine. so far, your standard role was to examine and prepare players before and after games, including team practices. any injuries or concerns were also taken care of by you. however, being shy was an issue you still had to overcome. treating players with their kinesiology tape or bringing them necessities was always attempted to be a quick motion; hurriedly fixing them up and moving on to the next task.

but some players proved to make that difficult for you. coming into work on an average day, you found yourself kneeling at the foot of the newly drafted guard— kate martin. when she had got unexpectedly chosen by the aces, you sat watching from home, marveled by her tall stature and pin straight blonde hair. she was even more alluring in person, especially from the view of applying tape to her ankles and legs every other day.

“you know the drill, just keep your foot upright and i’ll get your ankle,” you murmured, looking up at kate as she was sat in front of you. her big blue eyes met yours, and she smirked without comment. quickly averting your gaze, you pressed your lips together in an attempt to keep composure.

one thing you had learned since she joined the team was that she occasionally enjoyed poking fun at your timid mannerisms.

“loosen up a little, girl,” kate playfully punched your shoulder, “i don’t bite”.

the gesture made you laugh and mumble some unnecessary apology, but you still felt her gaze even after you looked back down. trying to focus on the task at hand was nearly impossible in this position, being on your knees before her. as you pulled more tape, your mind raced of all the things you could do to each other. if one day you could set the professionalism aside and just push her legs apart—

“you’re my favorite medical person, you know that? you always get me right,” kate continued, knowing exactly what she was doing.

you snapped out of your thoughts and felt your face grow hot, looking back up at her. “thank you,” you said, barely getting it out, “a-and you’re all set now by the way.” kate thanked you with a slight chuckle, and was up and ready for practice.

——————————————————————————

it was interactions like these that kept you up at night. all the eye contact, suggestive gestures, and tension was enough to drive you crazy. you endlessly wondered if kate had meant to fuel the tension, or if it was all just in your head. regardless, these moments made you excited to come into work every day, anticipating the next exchange you two would have.

the entire next month of your internship consisted of increasingly tense encounters with kate, with each one wondering when she would just make a move. she had started to admiringly stroke your hair while you were knelt in front of her, knowing how much it would turn you on. every once in a while she would give your hair a light tug to make you look up for no good reason other than to get a good look at you. once you understood she was taking things a smidge further, you had no problem getting a little extra touchy when handling her legs, or simply handing her things like a towel or water bottle. you ran your hands up her legs in an “innocent” manner, both of you knowing damn well you were ready to find a secluded space together.

your favorite moments to see her were before and after big games. the way her pregame excitedness would be contagious, and the way after the game she would still have energy despite being tired. this day, kate was getting ready to play in a game with high expectations for the aces. you gathered all the things she might need, and headed into the locker room, where most of her teammates were already gone. you spotted her standing right in front of her designated space, and walked towards her. kate smiled knowingly when she saw you, and didn’t move out of the way as you bent past her to set down the water and towel in her cubby. your hips grazed each other when suddenly you felt her arms snake around your lower back. you slowly got back upright, and kate kept her arms around you, moving her hands to each side of your waist.

her big hands planted on your waist took your breath away as there was no escaping her now. face to face, kate kept her gaze on you.

“i was wondering when you’d come by,” she taunted.

you swallowed thickly, your mouth hung open but the words would not come out. even after a month, she still intimidated you with her beauty.

“i’m just joking, relax,” kate said, laughing lightly.

“i know. i just had to go find the best materials for you,” you joked back, trying to keep your cool and ignore the growing heat between your legs.

kate smiled back at you, sensing how needy you were becoming. “same time back here after the game?” she questioned, her voice low.

“of course. good luck tonight, kate,” you said back.

——————————————————————————

it was a tough loss for the aces. the final score came close, but ultimately the team returned to the locker room in low spirits. the loss was hard on you too, seeing kate frustrated out on the court, but you still had to do your job. giving everyone postgame materials and accessing injuries, you noticed to have treated everyone except kate. you craned your neck around the locker room, looking for the long blonde ponytail, but she was nowhere to be seen. eventually, the team had left for the night. you were left cleaning up after them, still wondering where your favorite player was.

you had your back turned from the entrance and putting away your supplies when you heard footsteps coming towards the room. your heart immediately began to race and you turned around to see kate standing a few yards in front of you, with an exhausted but eager expression on her face.

her eyes pierced through you, and your mind raced trying to think of something to say, but it was a blur as she quickly walked to you and took your face in her hands, kissing you deeply. your body tensed up at the surprise, but quickly melted down as you remembered how long you had been waiting for this moment.

it was a hungry kiss, with her hands moving down to your waist and pulling you closer. kate completely took control of you and backed you against the wall. in the heat of the moment, you decided it was your turn to tease her.

“where.....the hell.......were you.....” you said breathlessly between kisses. kate instantly pulled away from you and scoffed.

“just talking with the coaches, baby.”

her breathless tone made you weak in the knees and she immediately went back to making out with you. her hands found their way under your shirt and began exploring all over your waist. she passionately bit at your bottom lip as she moved her cold hands up to your tits, which she desperately squeezed at. the cold touch being in just the right place earned a little whimper from your lips. kate giggled against the kiss, finding amusement in getting you so needy so fast.

you felt slightly embarrassed at how easy you were being, and decided to switch it up on kate. maintaining the kiss, you made your way back to her bench, and pushed her down. you knelt down in front of her just as you did when you took care of her, but now your dirty thoughts were becoming a reality. kate did not protest being sat down and instead threw her head back, resting it right below her name plate— “K. Martin”.

your view from the kneel made your head spin tonight, with her face still sweaty and her messy hair slightly sticking to her face. she was still out of breath and tiredly looked down at you as you parted her legs. you kept the eye contact as you gestured for her to lift her hips in order to slide down her shorts. once off, you threw them elsewhere in the room, and positioned yourself further inbetween her legs. you looked up at her one more time and saw her chest rising and falling with every movement, her eyebrows furrowed in desperation.

“here? right now? are you sure, kate?” you questioned, half taunting half being serious. you placed your hand on her inner thigh and began slowly circling her clit. she bucked her hips up at the sudden touch.

“please...please...” kate whispered, and you felt your stomach flip. all of the nights she teased you and seemed so tough were now out the window as she begged you to continue.

looking around the room, there was no sign of life besides you and kate. you turned back to her and urged her to stay quiet before going down on her. your tongue skillfully lapped around her clit and she let out a strangled cry.

“shhhhh kate you’re doing so good,” you whispered against her wetness.

you brought your fingers up to her entrance and began circling around it before slowly inserting two fingers. you kept the sucking at a steady pace but began to finger her quickly. looking up at kate, her eyes were screwed shut and stomach tense. she was biting down hard on her lip, struggling to stay quiet. her constant little moans single-handedly almost made you finish, but you focused on her.

you continued eating her out as if she was going to disappear from under you, and picked up the pace. your left hand remained on her thigh and you felt her grab hold of it. she breathed hard as her other hand landed in your hair, lightly pushing your head and grasping your hair. you smiled thinking back to the times when she would have her hands in your hair while innocently getting taped up; oh how fast things can change.

“i-i’m gonna....” kate cried out, squirming beneath you and clearly reaching her limit.

the fast pace combined with tongue and fingers finally brought her to her release. kate moaned your name breathlessly over and over as she came on your fingers. eventually you stopped and she was able to ride out the high.

as soon as kate caught her breath she got you up off the ground and put you in her spot. she got on her knees and tugged at your pants.

“kate don’t you think we should stop... someone probably heard us-“

she didn’t even let you finish your sentence before she inserted her long fingers into you. kate did not hold back as she kept an unrelenting pace and began to kiss you. you moaned and panted into the kiss, struggling to kiss back.

you gave up on trying to kiss back and threw your head back, raspy moans escaping from your puffed lips. her fingers felt so good inside of you, hitting the spot with each thrust. she didn’t even need to do anything except finger you, and you were already close. you tried to moan her name but could only get out the “k” sound.

“just take it,” she demanded, getting frustrated you couldn’t kiss back.

kate began kissing down your neck and leaving very apparent hickeys all over. all you could do was moan as she took care of you, your eyes tearing up from the euphoric feeling. you tugged on her hair as you felt yourself on the edge of release. the way your hips squirmed and tears fell down your face told kate that you were ready and nodded at you to come.

her pace slowed as you relaxed from the climax and she began gently kissing your face. she wiped your tears with her other hand and ran her fingers through your messy hair.

“i got you wrapped around my finger, my favorite intern girl,” kate laughed.

“you’re so corny.”

“you.”

[museanddream]

One Night - part 1 || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

Summary: When you complete a dream transfer to Barcelona, there’s only one problem - you have to learn to coexist with your ex-hookup and her new girlfriend.

Warnings: 🔞 | no actual smut in this chapter but contains references to sex and this is just setup for several parts of pure filth

Word count: 5.4k

It takes you all of about ten seconds on your first day at Barcelona to realise that Ona Batlle and Lucy Bronze are dating.

Strangely, it’s not Lucy who gives it away, but instead the young Spaniard.

You don’t actually know Ona beyond the distant professionalism of two people who have played against each other a handful of times over the years. Lucy, however, is somebody you’re more than acquainted with. Intimately so.

You started sleeping with Lucy a few years ago, during her first spell at City. Lucy was charming, hot and available and you were … well, you were young and horny. It was a mutually convenient agreement until she moved to France and you to Germany, when it became obvious within just a few months that a casual situationship was much harder to nurture when you lived in different countries. That’s when it fell apart, heated words fired from both sides then radio silence as if you’d never even known each other.

You knew you’d have to face up to your past when you signed for Barcelona. Lucy’s been here for a year already, but you don’t say no to a club like Barça, not even when you’ve got history with one of their star defenders.

All you can do when you show up for your first day is hope that you’ve both matured enough to be professional about it.

“I’d heard a rumour you might be coming here.”

Of course you find yourself alone with her in the dressing room pretty much straight away, fresh out of your signing photoshoot. The soft fabric of the blaugrana Barcelona kit feels good against your skin, but you feel anything but comfortable alone with Lucy.

“Back on the same team, huh?” you reply stiffly. “Who’d have thought it?”

“The best team,” Lucy brags.

You’re saved from having to make any more awkward smalltalk with Lucy as the door to the dressing room clatters open.

“Lucy, you left your trainers in the-”

The newcomer, Ona Batlle, stops mid sentence when she notices you, forgetting whatever she was saying so that she can instead greet you with a dazzling smile that knocks the air out of your lungs.

She’s pretty. You’re sure that you must have already known this, you just haven’t had time to properly appreciate it, not when you were playing against her and focused on other things.

“Hi. I’m Ona,” she greets you, letting you introduce yourself in return before she turns her attention back to Lucy. “You left these in the gym. If I’d known I’d be tidying up after you, I’d have stayed in Manchester.”

And that’s when you realise that there’s more to the relationship between Ona and Lucy than just being new teammates. It’s a mixture of things that gives it away, the affectionate tone of Ona’s voice, the familiarity with which she teases Lucy, but mostly the look of absolute adoration in Ona’s eyes as Lucy takes the shoes off her. It’s a look that you recognise, because there was once a time when you probably looked at Lucy with that same expression.

If there was any doubt in your mind, what Ona says next is the final nail in the coffin.

“We should stop for groceries on the way home by the way,” Ona says to Lucy. “We don’t have anything for dinner.”

Home. So it’s serious enough that they’re living together, she’s not just another one of Lucy’s flings.

You were never that serious with Lucy. Aside from occasionally carpooling to training the next day if one of you accidentally fell asleep at the other’s post-hookup, you never reached this level of domesticity.

Lucy mumbles something in agreement, tucking her trainers into the cubby behind her, and soon enough Ona is gone as quickly as she arrived.

Left alone with Lucy again, the atmosphere somehow even more tense than before, the first thing that spills from your lips before you have time to think twice is a joke.

“Bit young for you, isn’t she Luce?”

“I don’t know what you…” Lucy trails off and sighs, probably realising that there’s no point trying to deny anything when you’re going to be sharing a dressing room with her and her new beau and will inevitably learn the truth anyway. “Look, I really like her, okay? It’s real.”

You ignore the heavy implications of Lucy’s words, that what she shared with you all those years ago wasn’t real, for the sake of the harmony of the team you’ve just joined.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell Lucy, not entirely untruthful. You never thought that Lucy would be partnered up when you joined Barcelona, but you definitely didn’t expect any of your old history to be reignited either. It’s been long enough that Lucy is just another teammate, someone you can learn to get along with.

…

You do get along with Lucy, in a kind of amicable yet emotionless way that almost feels like you’ve never played on the same team before, let alone slept together on and off for over a year in your early twenties. It’s purely professional, cordial without getting too close to friendly.

You’re relieved, of course. The last time you encountered Lucy was an international match a couple of years ago, an evening which started with heavy tackles and the two of you earning a yellow card apiece on the pitch and ended with Lucy on her knees between your legs in an empty medical room after the game. It was the last time you saw Lucy, the last time you slept with her, the last time you even spoke to her until you moved to Barcelona.

So you’re glad that you can get along with her, even if you’re still trying to wrap your head around how normal it is to be teammates again after everything.

But somebody you really start to get along with is Ona.

It turns out you have more in common with Ona than just being new signings and finding Lucy Bronze attractive. You bond quickly at training and soon you’re hanging out outside of the training ground, grabbing coffee a couple of times a week and letting Ona show you around the city that has become your new home. Lucy gets invited along once or twice but always manages to find an excuse not to join you - whether Ona knows about your history with Lucy isn’t clear to you and you decide it’s not your place to be the one to tell her.

And that’s how you become good friends with your ex-hookup’s new girlfriend.

You quickly realise exactly what Lucy sees in Ona.

She’s got a personality that matches the Barcelona sunshine, a smile that would charm anybody, and eyes that are so big and perfect you’re not entirely convinced that she wasn’t hand-drawn by a cartoonist.

It’s not a crush, you tell yourself. That would be inappropriate in all sorts of ways. It’s just an appreciation.

One that only grows as the season progresses.

Ona does your hair before a game, putting it into a braid that matches her own, and it quickly becomes a pre-match tradition. You sit on the floor between Ona’s legs while her deft fingers work your scalp and pull strands of hair this way and that and can you really be blamed for the direction your traitorous thoughts threaten to move, especially not when Ona was standing beside you in nothing but a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra mere moments ago? Now you’re thinking about her abs and her fingers.

She taps your shoulder when she’s done, letting you know that you can stand up, and you make eye contact with Lucy across the dressing room as you get to your feet. Her gaze is intense, not jealous or angry that you’ve become so close to her girlfriend, but there’s something in those familiar eyes that you just can’t place.

Focused on the match ahead, you store that information in the back of your mind for later, but end up forgetting about it altogether.

…

There’s some kind of mix-up in communication that means that Lucy has joined you for one of your usual outings for coffee with Ona. You try to excuse your way out of it, claiming that you don’t want to third-wheel their date, but Ona is too nice and jokes that it’s actually Lucy who is the third wheel, before saying that you can’t back out now.

So that’s how you end up sitting at a table on a terrace outside a quaint little cafe with Lucy. Ona goes inside, having insisted that she’ll buy the coffees, despite your protests that she paid last time and it’s your turn.

“You’ve got a good one there, Luce.”

Lucy grins across at you.

“I know. Always had good taste in women, me.”

It’s … flirty? At least it feels borderline flirtatious, considering your past with Lucy. Then again, Lucy’s always been a little flirty, she just didn’t have a girlfriend the last time she turned her charm on with you all those years ago.

“I just mean, don’t fuck it up with her, that’s all,” you tell Lucy, rolling your eyes.

“You mean like I did with you?”

It’s the first time in the three months since you joined Barcelona that either of you have openly acknowledged what you used to have and you don’t really know how to react. Your policy since joining Barcelona has been to pretend that you and Lucy were never a thing. That’s a lot harder to do when Lucy is reminding you that you were.

“It wasn’t just you who fucked it up,” you reply, avoiding eye contact with Lucy out of fear that looking at her might bring up old attraction. “Anyway, that was different, it wasn’t like what you have with Ona.”

Lucy hums, then says, “Maybe it could’ve been the same. If we hadn’t been so dumb and immature.”

There’s much less room to misinterpret Lucy’s words this time. Here is Lucy, pretty much admitting that she wishes things had gotten more serious with you when she had the chance, while her actual girlfriend, the same person who has been nothing but welcoming and an all round great friend to you since you joined Barcelona, is at the counter inside the coffee shop.

“We were around the same age as Ona when it started,” you point out, hoping that the mention of her girlfriend will snap Lucy back into a reality where she doesn’t feel the need to reminisce over your past.

“Ona…” Lucy glances at Ona through the coffee shop window and her expression softens. “Ona’s got a wise head on her. Plus she’s a hopeless romantic. She’s been all-in since the start. Probably knocked a bit of sense into me too, along the way.”

They’re disgustingly in love with each other and it’s enough to squash any butterflies in your own stomach.

“Like I said, I’m glad you’ve found each other.”

The conversation finishes there as Ona returns with the coffees, setting the tray on the table carefully and passing the drinks around.

“Thanks, Ona. You know, I might steal you away from Lucy if you keep fuelling my caffeine addiction like this.”

You say it as if having a little flirt with Ona somehow makes up for whatever traitorous thoughts you were having about Lucy before Ona returned to the table, but at least the smile that spreads across Ona’s face at your words is enough to smother some of your guilt.

“It’s good to keep Lucy on her toes,” Ona says, raising her eyebrows at you like she’s letting you in on an inside joke. “And she’s always saying how much she likes a competition.”

Lucy stirs her own coffee, then sets her spoon down as she leans back casually in her chair as if completely unbothered by the thought of having to fight you for Ona’s attention.

“Yeah,” she says with a shrug. “And I always win.”

…

You’ve always liked away games. Especially now, in a new league. New teams to play against, new cities to visit. And you quickly get used to the expectations that Barça has for its players on away trips.

The main one is the rooming rules. Couples don’t share, you learn that quickly, and also notice that everybody seems to accept that rule. You’ve been on teams before where that’s been an official rule, but teammates have made arrangements between themselves to trade with each other to share with their partner instead. That’s not the case at Barcelona.

The other thing is that while there are some players who mostly seem to always share with each other, there seems to be a deliberate effort to rotate room pairings for the newer signings as they integrate with their new teammates. You’re with Esmee for the first trip, which is a relief to you both as neither of you speaks a word of Spanish yet, then with Ingrid who is just as friendly, having been a new signing herself only a couple of years ago.

You never share with Lucy. Part of you wonders if she’s put in a deliberate request to whoever organises the hotels that sharing with you is just as off-limits to her as sharing with Ona would be, but you’re grateful for it. Though it’s no longer as weird between you, sharing a room with her seems like a step too far right now.

It takes four months at Barça before you room with Ona for the first time, for two nights on a Champions League away fixture in Sweden. The first night is quiet and focused, you talk through some of the tactics from the earlier training session together before getting an early night.

But the second night, after winning the game, there’s a knock on the door when you’re getting ready for bed.

You probably shouldn’t be surprised when you open the door and find Lucy standing outside, given that she’s your roommate’s girlfriend, but you forget that for a moment until Lucy speaks.

“Hey. Is Ona here? Just wanted to say goodnight.”

You blink yourself out of your surprise, then gesture at the closed door to the en-suite bathroom.

“She’s just in there.”

“Can I wait?” Lucy asks.

You hesitate for just a moment, then step aside to let her in.

“Sure.”

Lucy enters the room and you close the door behind her. When you turn around, she’s taken a seat on the end of your bed.

“Uh, that‘s Ona’s bed,” you tell her, pointing at the other bed.

“Oh. Shit, sorry.”

Lucy moves to the other bed, but still sits on it just as awkwardly as she sat on yours. Though it’s mostly normal between you and Lucy these days, when it’s just the two of you, you sometimes remember the way things used to be.

And then you remember that it’s not like that anymore.

“Remember when we used to sneak into each other’s rooms at City?” Lucy asks, with a low chuckle. Apparently she’s reminiscing over the past too.

You glance towards the bathroom, wondering if Lucy is really trying to remind you of the late night trysts you used to have at away games while her actual girlfriend is on the other side of the door.

“Is that your way of hinting at me to piss off and leave you alone with your girlfriend?” you ask her drily, arching an eyebrow as you plug your phone in to charge on the nightstand.

“Nah, it’s against the rules, innit.”

“It was against the rules at City too,” you remind her.

“Yeah, but that’s what made it exciting.” Lucy’s green eyes are alight with mischief, and your stomach does a little flip as you remember the thrill of trying to hook up with Lucy at any available moment without getting caught by teammates or coaches.

And then you feel guilty. Because this is another conversation with Lucy that borders on flirtatious, another split second where you forget she’s in a relationship and are transported right back to when she used to want you.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the bathroom lock clicks and the door swings open. Something shifts in the air between you and Lucy as Ona steps out, hair falling in pretty waves over her shoulders. Her brown eyes light up with pure joy and adoration when she spots Lucy sitting on her bed.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Ona teases Lucy.

“I’m not staying,” replies Lucy. “Just wanted to drop by and say goodnight.”

An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach and you’re not sure if it’s because they’re so horribly in love with each other that it’s making you nauseous, or if it’s a lingering guilt that Ona has no idea you and Lucy were just talking about your heated past. Either way, you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be here for, making a mumbled excuse about giving them a moment and take yourself into the bathroom.

It’s only when the door is locked behind you that you realise you’re now trapped in the bathroom, while they’re saying goodnight to each other in god knows what sort of way.

You press your ear to the door, then jerk away as if the wood is scalding hot when you realise what you’re doing. If they’re talking, it’s not your place to eavesdrop. And if they’re doing anything else…

Your cheeks burn hot at the idea. Surely they wouldn’t? Not while you’re in the bathroom. But they had been so enamoured by each other that you’re not even sure if they noticed you slip away.

You think back to your situationship with Lucy all those years ago. She always had an incredible knack for getting you naked in record time and somehow, you really doubt that she’s lost any of that charm since then.

What if they get carried away with their goodnight wishes and you’re stuck in here all night?

You don’t know how long you’re left wallowing in your own anguish in the bathroom, it could be anywhere from three minutes to three days, but eventually there’s a knock on the door, which is followed by Ona calling your name. You flick the lock then open the door, relieved to find Ona still fully dressed in her pyjamas and now alone in the room again.

“You okay?” she asks. “You were quiet in there. Not that I was listening! Just that you were in there a while and … and I didn’t hear the toilet flush or anything.”

Ona is exceptionally cute when she’s flustered.

“I just didn’t want to get in you and Lucy’s way.”

For just a second, Ona looks like she wants to say something, but she holds it back and the moment passes. Soon you’re each lying in your own bed, the lights off as you settle down for the night.

Sleep feels a whole universe away. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think you can still smell Lucy‘s perfume lingering in the room. The air somehow feels even thicker than it did when Lucy was here. You can hear every movement from the other side of the room, every shift of the bedsheets, every breath that Ona takes, like it’s being amplified through a speaker.

“I know about you and Lucy.” Ona’s low voice eventually penetrates the darkness. “What you used to have. Lucy told me a while ago.”

That’s - well, it’s not what you’re expecting her to suddenly admit. You’re grateful that the lights are off, saving you from having to twist your expression into something neutral.

“It didn’t mean anything. It was just a bit of fun. It was never anything serious.”

You hear Ona’s chuckle rise up from the other bed.

“I know. She told me everything. I’m not jealous. That was way before I knew either of you. Anyway, it makes sense.”

“It does?” you ask.

“Yeah. I like you both. Makes sense you’d like each other too.” There’s a pause, then she adds, “Also you’re both hot.”

Not for the first time, you wonder if everything that’s happened since you joined Barcelona has been some kind of bizarre dream, because there’s no version of normal that includes your ex-hookup’s new girlfriend implying she thinks you’re attractive in the middle of the night on an away trip.

You don’t really know how you’re supposed to reply.

“Uh, thanks.”

Ona continues, “I’m telling you I know just because I’ve noticed you’re a bit weird around Lucy sometimes, so I just want you to know it’s fine with me if you two want to hang out.”

You wonder if Ona would still be fine with it if she knew that you and Lucy have almost flirted with each other twice now. Your cheeks heat up at the thought and you’re glad for the darkness that hides your flush from Ona.

“Maybe we could all hang out together sometime?” Ona suggests, oblivious to your turmoil.

“Oh, I don’t know if…”

“We could have a movie night,” Ona suggests, ignoring your attempts at declining the offer. “At our place. It’d be fun!”

It’s such a typically Ona suggestion. Because Ona is sweet and kind and of course she wants to do everything she can to make sure that her friend gets along with her girlfriend without any awkwardness. There’s not a bone in Ona’s body that would even consider the possibility of being jealous of the fact that you and Lucy used to sleep with each other.

And so in that moment, staring up at the ceiling in a hotel room in Sweden, you vow to never let yourself have a private conversation with Lucy again that’s about anything other than football, to never let Lucy flirt with you or the idea of flirting with Lucy back cross your mind, and to definitely never reminisce about Lucy when your hand is between your legs.

…

You don’t manage to talk your way out of going to Ona’s planned movie night, though if you’re completely honest, you don’t try too hard.

When you arrive at their apartment, it’s Lucy who opens the door and you have a brief moment of panic that she doesn’t actually want you here. But you’re quickly reassured by the way she steps aside to let you in and greets you with a mumbled “Alright?”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” you comment to fill the silence, as Lucy leads you through the apartment to the living room.

“Thanks.”

You sit down in the single armchair, leaving the couch for Lucy and Ona to share. There’s no sign of Ona yet and Lucy doesn’t sit down, instead hovering awkwardly by the door, glancing over her shoulder every two seconds as if looking to see if Ona is joining you.

“I know this was Ona’s idea but if it’s weird I can just go,” you pipe up, wondering if it’s really that awful for Lucy to be alone with you that she needs her girlfriend as a buffer.

“No,” Lucy says decisively. “It was both our ideas. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you too.”

Finally, to the relief of both of you, you hear bare feet pattering down the hallway from one of the other rooms and Ona appears in the doorway. She smiles warmly at Lucy, brushing her fingers against Lucy’s hand as she passes in a gesture that feels far too intimate for you to witness, then grins at you.

“Hi! You came!”

Ona sounds genuinely surprised, like she half-expected you to not turn up, and maybe you haven’t been as good as you thought you were at pretending your relationship with Lucy is one between two normal teammates if Ona was worried that you might bail on a movie night just because Lucy would be there too.

“Of course,” you say, as you try to relax back in your armchair as Lucy and Ona sit down at opposite ends of the sofa. “So, have you already picked out a movie?”

“A movie?” Lucy asks. Confusion briefly flashes across her face, but then it settles into realisation as she turns to Ona and repeats, “A movie.”

A tiny smirk graces Ona’s lips as she shrugs and says, “What? You told me to get her here. You didn’t say how.”

Lucy seems equal parts annoyed and amused - about what you’re not exactly sure - as she says, “I thought you’d do some of the explaining instead of leaving it all to me.”

It’s your turn to be confused.

“So we’re not watching a movie then?” you ask slowly, your eyes flitting between the two of them as you wait for an answer.

Silence hangs between the three of you, Lucy and Ona apparently both waiting for the other to say something, before Lucy rolls her eyes and takes control.

“Listen, here’s the deal,” she starts to explain, leaning forwards slightly in her seat. “I told Ona about our past as soon as you signed for Barça and she found it pretty amusing. Soon she was asking more questions about … well, about you and us, I’m sure you get the picture.”

Still trying to figure out what this has got to do with a movie night, you say, “I don’t think I do.”

Lucy lets out a groan.

“Jesus, am I gonna have to spell it out? She wanted to know what it was like to ‘be with you’ -” Lucy throws up some exaggerated air quotes with her hands, rolling her eyes again along with her words. “So I told her. Well, actually I told her that if she wanted to know what it was like then she should just sleep with you herself. Was joking, of course, but it turns out Ona’s really into that idea, actually.”

Your eyes flicker across to Ona, whose cheeks are tinged a pretty shade of pink and eyes are wide with a mixture of worry and expectation as she waits for your response.

Turning back to Lucy, you ask, “So you’ve invited me over to fuck your girlfriend?”

Lucy nods.

“Well, both of us, if you’re up for it. We figured you and me already had that chemistry and I know you fancy Ona, judging by how often I see you checking her out in the dressing room.”

Your mouth falls open, embarrassed that your staring has been noticed, ready to protest, but they’re both looking at you with more amusement than annoyance.

“Anyway, that’s us,” Lucy finishes. “Ball’s in your court.”

Two pairs of eyes watch you, waiting for your reaction. Lucy almost seems indifferent, settling back in her seat casually as if trying to play it cool, which almost has you wondering if you’ve imagined her just propositioning you for a threesome, if not for the way that one of her fingers taps nervously against her thigh. Ona, on the other hand, looks at you with eyes that are wide and vulnerable, as if the prospect of you turning them down might shatter her heart.

The pieces start to fit together - the tour of cute Barcelona coffee shops from Ona, the occasional flirtatious comments from Lucy. To know that they both want you is flattering. To know that they’ve been talking about this, planning how to get you into their home and their bed, is something that your mind struggles to comprehend.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Ona eventually says. “If you need time to think about it?”

“No, let’s do it.”

Your words are decisive. If you give yourself too long to think about it, you’ll talk yourself out of it and you can’t deny that this is something you want. Maybe you hadn’t imagined that it would end up happening like this, with both of them, but you’ve definitely thought about them. Lucy, and the things she used to do to you, the spark you used to have that still makes the occasional appearance when you least expect it. Ona, and the way her hands feel in your hair when she braids it before a game, the way your stomach churns with butterflies whenever she smiles at you and those perfect eyes look into yours.

To have both of them at the same time is beyond your wildest fantasies.

“Go on,” Lucy says to Ona. “I know you’ve been dying to kiss her for months.”

Your heart rate picks up.

“Yeah?”

Ona counters this by shaking her head.

“Not months. Lucy’s exaggerating.”

“I’m not. She talks about you all the time. About what it’d be like to kiss you, to have you in our bed. And I told her if she was that desperate, she should just go for it. I know you like the direct approach, it worked for me all them years ago. But no. No, Ona wanted to seduce you. Why do you think she’s been taking you on all those coffee dates? She’s been trying to woo you.”

Your ego swells with the knowledge that Ona, beautiful and kind and funny as she is, who has already pretty much hit the relationship jackpot by bagging herself Lucy, has apparently spent months plotting her pursuit of you.

Not that you had any idea. Ona has always strayed onto the affectionate side of friendship whenever you’ve hung out with her. Maybe if she’d been single, you might have picked up on some clues, but you’ve known about her relationship with Lucy since you joined the team and never had any reason to think that Ona’s familiarity with you was down to anything else but the fact that she’s simply Spanish.

You explain this to them.

“I thought she was just being nice.”

Lucy chuckles to herself at this, then says, “Course you did. Sweet little Ona, welcoming you to Barça. Just wait until you find out Little Miss Perfect isn’t so innocent after all.”

If you weren’t already interested, Lucy’s words fill you with intrigue.

“Come here,” you instruct Ona.

Ona glances at Lucy, as if asking for her permission, and Lucy responds by rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Don’t get shy on us now as if this wasn’t your idea in the first place.”

Ona’s cheeks are pink but she pushes up to her feet and crosses over to you. She stops awkwardly in front of you, scratching at a hangnail on her thumb until you reach for her hand and pull her closer, leaving her very little choice but to clamber into your lap.

“You’ve been planning this, huh?” you murmur to her, as if you’re the only two in the room. Your hands find her hips as she settles with a leg on either side of your thighs. “What, Lucy wasn’t enough for you?”

“She is,” Ona says. “But…”

Ona trails off, teeth chewing into her lower lip.

“But what?” You prompt her.

There’s a brief moment where time seems to stand still, except for the visible rise and fall of Ona’s chest as she breathes, then she answers, “But I wanted you too.”

Hearing Ona vocalise her desire for you gives you a rush that comes second only to scoring a goal in a cup final.

It makes you giddy. And you really don’t want to fuck it up, which is why you take a few deep breaths in time with the strokes of your hands up and down Ona’s thighs as you compose yourself before you speak again.

“All those times you took me out for coffee, all the times you translated for me in training or did my hair before a game, you were thinking about this, weren’t you? About having my hands on your body.” You lean closer until your foreheads rest against each other, hot breath mingling in the almost nonexistent gap between your mouths, then whisper, “My lips against your skin.”

Ona tilts her chin up slightly, trying to tempt you into finally closing the gap. When you don’t, she resorts to begging.

“Please.”

“What do you want?” You want to coax it out of her, committing every part of this moment to memory. “Tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

[bunnyreaper]

the price we pay

kinktober 10 - fuck machine

dom!ghost x sub!reader x sub!soap

(18+/mdni, fuck machine, cuckolding vibes, bondage, degradation, negotiated kink, anal)

Belonging to Simon Riley brought with it a litany of mysteries, both large and small—it's a privilege and a burden you and Johnny both willingly signed up for. 

Simon was always the first (and often only) one to know things in your relationships—plans, observations, feelings, they'd all sit inside his head for weeks or months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to come out. Over time, you've learned to spot the signs of a brewing plan or ruminating thought. This one you picked up on fairly quickly, having made a game of it with Simon. 

Simon sits across from you, lonely on the loveseat as you lounge on the couch, lost in his phone with a focused squint. It's nothing unusual, the two of you spending time together peacefully coexisting in silence—but you sense something amiss.

"You're planning something." You whisper, eyes glued to him as he taps at something on his screen. 

He pauses, gaze connecting with yours as he stares you down, resolute with a slight smirk on his face. "Yeah, and?" 

"How long now?" You ask.

"3 weeks." 

"I'm getting faster, Simon!" You punch the air in victory, kicking and flailing your legs in a delighted little dance that makes your lover smile. "Okay, continue, I won't ask any more questions." You giggle as you bite your lip and turn your attention back to the TV, willing yourself to not think about the surprise. 

So you weren't caught completely unaware when one day an oversized, nondescript box was delivered to the door. Johnny's away on an assignment without you both, meaning whatever it is could only belong to Simon, and likely part of whatever he's been working on over the past several weeks. 

Johnny went away aware something was coming, but not knowing what—because unlike Johnny, Simon could keep a secret from his lovers. You've been resorting to unfair tactics with Simon, waiting until he's in his blissed-out, post fuck state to probe him gently. 

You lay draped across Simon, both of you completely bare as you cuddle up—his hot cum still oozing out of you. 

Now's your chance, you think. Simon's always more relaxed post-sex, and you're not going to ask too much. 

Threading your fingers up to his hair, you stroke his scalp and smile as his eyes slip shut. "Is it a gift?" 

"I suppose." He whispers, eyes cracking open as he eyes you wearily, you can see the cogs turning as he debates giving you an inch, and worrying you'll take a mile.

You study him intently, wondering if you can chance another. "For me?" 

"For all of us." He reaches to your chin, tilting it as he leans in for a breath-stealing kiss that silences any further inquiries. "Now that's enough." 

You nod, beyond satisfied as you snuggle back into Simon's chest and try to temper your excitement.

The package arriving perfectly in time for the day Johnny gets home from his mission is very suspicious. 

You'd both spent the afternoon cuddling Johnny on the couch before Simon disappeared upstairs with his box and ordered you both to stay out of the bedroom until he allowed you in. Johnny had probed you for what you knew, as he tried to come up with ideas for what it could be. 

"Mebbes it's a puppy, I'd like tha'" Johnny comments idly as he plays with your hair, stroking through it as he snuggles up behind you.

You giggle, but shake your head, not convinced by that theory. "I'd hope he wouldn't keep a puppy in the box for that long, plus surely it would've made a noise by now." 

"Hmm." Johnny hums. "King size weighted blanket?" 

Simon's eyes had lit up when you had mentioned it in the past. "Ooh, one we can all snuggle under." You wriggle back into Johnny, imagining the comfort of being cuddled up with your boys and blessed with the extra weight. Then again, you didn't really need a weighted blanket when you had them.

You hear Simon's footsteps as he starts to come back downstairs, and you turn over to shush Johnny with a kiss. "Quiet, don't get us in trouble." 

"Aye, lass." 

After an afternoon of soft closeness and conversation, the three of you would usually take this time to head to the bedroom and fuck the missing parties' brain's out, to catch them up on everything they've missed—but the atmosphere is so different, knowing whatever Simon has been planning is just waiting for you upstairs. 

When Simon nods in the direction of the stairs, you both obediently rush to your feet, heading upstairs as he leads the way. 

"Johnny, be a good boy and go take a shower for me." Simon's voice is a stern command as he reaches the landing and stops Johnny from entering the bedroom. "I'll come and get you when I need you, yeah?" 

"Yes, sir." Johnny nods, his eyes widening as they connect with yours. 

Separating the two of you isn't a good sign for what's to come, and your stomach flips with fear as you're led into the bedroom wordlessly.

"Simon?" You ask, voice hesitant he starts to grab some of the items he's prepared. The whispered name doesn't get a response, so you try again. "...Sir?" 

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to you with that expression, the one that tells you his slipping into his dom mindset—head whirring with his plans, with considerations for all of your safety and welcome, and with anticipation for what's to come. "On the bed, now. Clothes off." 

You freeze for a moment, swallowing thickly before you rush to throw up every garment you're wearing—they're hastily discarded on the floor, only to be collected and folded when Simon hits you with a stern look. 

Once you're bare, you lay on the bed, uncertain of what's to come and yet trusting in the other man completely. 

Simon repositions you as he wants you, turning you over on your stomach before pulling up your ass into the air.

The large object at the foot of the bed covered by the sheet hasn't escaped your attention. "What's that?" 

Simon follows your gaze, to the covered mound. Silently, he pulls away the covering to reveal the contraption underneath. 

A fucking machine.

"Wow, fuck. What are you planning?" You gasp, already squirming in anticipation.

Simon steals your focus, turning your head back into the bed. "You'll see." 

His hands run over your naked behind, trailing down your legs before he gets to work gently attaching a spreader bar to your ankles—preparing you to be able to take the dildo attached to the machine. When he's done securing your ankles, he gets to work on securing your wrists together so you're truly helpless. 

You squirm as you feel the lube drip onto your exposed holes, his finger working the slick into your pucker and preparing you. Your head spins, as you begin to anticipate the machine fucking your ass, until you feel the cold metal of a plug and Simon's hand holding your rear. He works slowly, opening you up on a finger or two until he can get the plug inside.  With that done, he leans over, close to your head. 

"Love you." He mumbles as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Safeword?" 

"Red." You confirm, relishing in the feeling of being so safe with your boyfriend and dominant. "Love you too, Si."

"Good girl." 

He gives you a once-over, checking everything is in place, before he moves away. Next, he gets to work on moving the machine, you can just see in your peripheral as you crane your neck that he's moving things around—and then you feel the tip poke at your entrance, positioned so carefully so as to not truly enter you.

"Fuck." You shiver with anticipation, trying to wiggle back onto it only to be met with strong hands stilling your hips. 

You're already so needy, you're barely able to think of how the evening might unfold or what this will all lead to. Right now, you just want relief.  "Are you gonna turn it on?" 

"Not yet." 

You crane your neck to watch as Simon leaves the room, leaving you exposed and anticipating. 

The conversation between him and Johnny in the bathroom is muffled, barely audible over the blood pumping in your ears. 

When they make it to the room, Johnny is being led by Simon, due to the silk wrapped around his eyes. Simon lays him face down on the bed next to you, pulling off his towel and leaving him exposed alongside you. Johnny's already rock hard in anticipation, his cock rubbing against the mattress.

"Why's he blindfolded?" You ask, brain trying to piece together what is happening, what Simon has in store.

Upon hearing your voice, Johnny's hand twitches, wanting to reach out to touch you but knowing instinctively he isn't allowed. Were it not for the blindfold, the two of you would at least be able to share meaningful looks.

"For the surprise." Simon mumbles, as he starts to gather lengths of rope to tie Johnny up with—by the looks of it, your boyfriend was going to be bound head to toe beside you. 

"Oh, so I shouldn't ruin it?" You giggle, teasing Simon with the fact you could disobey and give the game away before he's ready. 

Your words are met with a scoff, and you watch Simon scowl as he pauses. "Not unless you want to trade places with him." 

As Simon gets to work tying Johnny's arms and legs, you realise very quickly that the last thing you want is to trade places with Johnny—at least you're seemingly in more of a position to get pleasure tonight, whereas it seems Johnny might get denied. You also realise that when the blindfold comes off, Johnny's going to be fucking furious. 

"Am getting tied up, ooh." Johnny coos, his tone playful as his lips curl into a smirk. 

You watch, fascinated, as Simon works deftly, securing the black rope over every inch of Johnny's gorgeous body. 

"If it helps, Johnny, I'm a little restrained too—ow!" You don't get to finish your sentence, as Simon cuts you off with a sharp spank. 

"What did I say?" He growls, attention turning to you for a moment to fix you with a steely glare. 

You pout, but bite your tongue from giving any further hints—you know what's good for you, after all. "Sorry, I won't give anything away, sir. Promise." Hopefully, the groveling will keep you in Simon's good books. 

"Yeah, could still be anything." Johnny comments, conspiring with you to keep you out of trouble—bless him. You had a feeling the two of you won't be so allied in a few minutes. 

It becomes clearer to you with each second that this setup is one of Simon's games to play you against one another, and tonight you're the lucky one, rather than the punished. Of course, it's all only temporary, and in the spirit of everyone's enjoyment—outside of the bedroom, you all try your hardest to never create imbalances between you.

"Jokes on us, he's gonna tie us both up and leave us in here, so he can get some peace, Johnny." You joke, trying to keep the mood fairly light.

"'m getting close to it." Simon is back to grumbling, as he finishes up his binds on Johnny's limbs. "Safeword?" 

"Red." Johnny confirms, his expression turning more serious. 

Simon presses a kiss to his forehead before he gets to work on undoing the blindfold."Love you." 

"Love you—" Johnny's words are cut off as his eyes flicker open, and he takes a second to crane his neck around to take in the scene beside him. "—bastard." 

"Don't like what you see, Johnny?" Simon chuckles, low and full of mischief, as he walks toward the bottom of the bed, standing near the machine that is so close to working its way inside you. 

"Fuck you." Johnny snarls, his eyes looking angered and desperate as he meets your gaze. He is, as you expected, furious.

And you hate that his reaction makes you leak—he wants you so bad, and he's being denied, completely at Simon's mercy. 

You want to get fucked so bad, whether it's by Johnny or the machine or Simon, you don't care. But tonight, you know the only thing getting stuffed in your cunt is the dildo on the fuck machine. "Please, sir, please turn it on." The words rush out of your mouth before you can stop them, need coursing through your body.

There's a low growl from both men before Simon speaks first. "Tell Johnny how much you want it." His words are accompanied by him adjusting the dildo at your entrance, getting ready to grant your wish.

Johnny's eyes soften when you look to him, but the fury within is still evident. You hope he sees the softness in your eyes too, hope he can see how helpless you are right now under Simon's spell that is making you complicit.

"Johnny, want it so bad... fuck." You wiggle once more, trying to get any kind of relief. Johnny grits his teeth through the next part. "Tell him to turn it on for me, please."

Another growl from Johnny as he thrashes against the mattress, unable to really do anything at all. "These fucking ropes, as soon as I get—" 

His sentence is interrupted by your moan, loud and uninhibited as the dildo breaches you, working itself in at a tortuously slow rhythm.

Simon is messing with the controls in your peripheral. "How's that?" 

"Slow." You whine, desperate for more already. The machine picks up its pace, fucking into you more steadily as it strokes against your insides. "T-thank you." 

Simon makes his way back to the side of the bed, standing behind Johnny as he taunts the man with his touch, stroking his face delicately as if to subdue and tame a wild animal.

"Is it better than him?" Simon asks, leaning into your field of vision.

You look up at him, mind hazy and unsure what response he wants. Does he want you to humiliate Johnny for him? Is he going to make you say you prefer the machine just to exert his power and control?

Simon senses your hesitation, your need for guidance in this moment, and his hand comes to stroke your face, much like he is already doing with Johnny. "Just looking for the truth, pet."

Your eyes flicker back to Johnny's, noticing the way they shine with something other than anger—fear and humiliation, as he waits for your response. Poor, sweet Johnny, already being broken down into submission by Simon. 

"... No." You whisper truthfully, gaze fixed on Johnny, so you can catch his relief. 

Simon tuts, walking back to the controls to turn them up as if to try and change your mind. "Shame."

The machine's pace increases, ramming the dildo into your cunt faster and faster and forcing the moans out from your pretty little mouth.

Johnny turns ferocious once again. "Yer not seriously gonna leave me here while a machine fucks ma girl instead of me?!" He pleads, desperate and mad and so confused, and yet still working his hips into the mattress for relief. 

"Your girl?" Simon snarls, returning to tug at the roots of Johnny's hair until his head is floating off the bed. 

Johnny swallows, winces at the sensation, and attempts to correct himself. "Our girl." 

Simon throws his head down with little regard, as if he's disgusted to even have touched your other boyfriend.

"My girl." His voice is all growl, threatening and territorial as he crawls onto the bed, ignoring Johnny and his need in favour of yours. "Here's how this is gonna go, Johnny. You're gonna be a good boy and stay there." 

You hear the cap of the lube open, and slick sounds as Simon lubes up his cock—both you and Johnny are breathless in anticipation. 

Simon's fingers then work the plug out of you, and you know exactly what is coming next. You're about to get double penetrated, while Johnny lays there and watches, powerless to stop it. He's wanted both men to take you at once for so long, only to be denied. 

Now it was going to happen without him. 

You feel Simon nudge his cock at your pucker, spreading around the lube there and chuckling at Johnny's livid reaction.

"You're gonna stay there, and me this machine are gonna fuck her better than you ever could."  

[fencecollapsed]

thinking about Emma and Tom

the tense relationship held up entirely by obligation. looking at each other knowing the only reason they're in the same vicinity is because Jane died. the bitterness over it. they don't want to be around each other. Tom can't stand that Emma's here now when she refused to be around when Jane was alive. Emma can't stand that Tom is so unreceptive to her, can't he see she's trying? he's a personified reminder of all her fuckups, the life Jane had that she missed. her failures as a sister, her own inadequacy that she's here trying to make up for. and Tom can't trust Emma, she's unreliable. impermanent, like everything in life. Jane tried to reach out to her constantly and died without succeeding, why would he believe she'll stick around now? he's hesitant to let Tim get close to her when she could so easily let them down, and Tim doesn't need more pain

the two of them uncomfortably trying to navigate having to be in each other's lives. both so full of regret and self-loathing and taking it out on each other. butting heads but still being obligated to try to make nice and get along. small moments of finding common ground. slowly starting to understand each other. slowly thawing the ice between them, learning to coexist. they're both mourning the same person, after all. they both feel deeply inadequate now that they're out from under her shadow. they both want to do right by her in some way or another. god, they're both trying their fucking best and never seeming to get it right

and they both love Tim. it's not just Jane they have in common, it's her son, too, they both want the best for him. Emma seeing both Jane and Tom in Tim and warming up to Tom because of it. Tom seeing Emma bonding with Tim, seeing him laugh with her and softening to her

aughhh a slooooow letting down of emotional walls until one day they both just Crack and finally have the conversation they've both been needing for so long. finally truly able to connect with each other. finally starting to see the other as family not just by law and obligation, but by building trust. and it's still not easy, it never will be, but it's better to be part of each others' lives than not

pulling my hair out thinking about Emma and Tom!!

[copper-16]

You Can Do This

Mapi for the life of her, cannot find Bagheera. The cat is in a place where the Spaniard and Norwegian least expect her to be.

(a/n: this is a mix between fluff and just a little bit of angst that is easily soothed. This is kind of introducing a theme about Mapi's specific struggles with becoming a parent, that is a topic I want to talk about and explore more in future stories about these three. Also, wanted to write some Bagheera/Elena content for @acornsquish, ofc :)

Mapi really, really hated waking up her wife when she did not need to. 

Ingrid was notoriously grumpy in the mornings, especially before she had her coffee, so the thought of getting the Norwegian up and knowing that she would likely be annoyed with Mapi for the rest of the day was not an enticing thought for the brunette. 

But the Spaniard also didn’t know what to do, because for the life of her she cannot find Bagheera anywhere. 

Mapi prided herself on knowing the cat well. She had been here before Ingrid, before Elena, and she had been the Spaniard’s ever since she was just a tiny kitten. The defender loved the cat with her life, and she was sure that she knew her well enough to know all of her hiding spots. 

The nook behind their kitchen table, behind the big armchair in the living room, under the TV in their bedroom. 

So when Mapi got up this morning to take Bagheera to the vet and hadn’t been able to find her, she had checked all of those hiding spots first. She was sure that the cat was somewhere in one of those, simply hiding from the crying from Elena that would start up soon enough when she awoke. 

The poor cat tolerated the baby, but she wasn’t exactly a huge fan of her either. Mapi and Ingrid were careful to keep the two relatively separated, not wanting Elena to accidentally pull at Bagheera’s tail or something like that. 

And for the most part, the cat stayed away without having to be told. She wasn’t a huge baby person, evidently, and Mapi couldn’t really blame her. She hadn’t exactly been bringing a bunch of babies home in the past, to be fair. 

But Elena wasn’t leaving, and neither was Bagheera, so the two learned to coexist peacefully, away from one another. 

Bagheera wasn’t in her cat tower, or in the nook behind the kitchen table, or by the armchair, or their bedroom. In fact, Mapi couldn’t begin to find the cat in the whole damn apartment. 

As the time of the cat’s vet appointment drew nearer, Mapi finally broke down, deciding that she needed to wake Ingrid up to help her look. 

“Ingrid, Ingrid!” Mapi whispered harshly, slightly shaking the Norwegian’s leg from her spot at the foot of the bed. 

“Mmm, go back to sleep Maria,” Ingrid mumbled sleepily, turning back into her pillow. Mapi swallowed thickly, looking around as though the cat would suddenly appear, and then squeezing her wife’s leg harder when she didn’t. 

“Ingrid!” She tried again, and apparently her voice was panicked enough that she got the dark haired woman up, the Norwegian blinking several times before looking up at her wife, who appeared more than a little frazzled. 

“What? Is something wrong?” Ingrid was suddenly very awake, wondering if there was something amiss with the baby. The next words out of her wife’s mouth are not, however, what she expects, given how panicked the Spaniard is.  

“The cat is missing!” Mapi hissed, and the dark haired woman’s whole face scrunched in confusion. 

“The cat is what?” Ingrid repeats, her words slightly slow as she struggles to follow the brunettes train of thought. 

“The cat is missing!” Mapi echoes, looking around again. 

“Mapi, she’s a cat. She’s not missing, she’s somewhere in this apartment,” Ingrid reasoned with far too much sureness for someone who wasn’t abreast of the current situation. 

“No, I’m telling you! I’ve looked in all of her usual spots, and she’s not anywhere! You need to help me look, I have to take her to the vet,” Mapi insisted, not waiting for Ingrid’s answer before she walked out of their room, her steps hurried but quiet, well aware that their six month old baby was still very much asleep. 

Ingrid let out a heavy sigh before she slipped out of bed, running a comb through her hair and brushing her teeth before she joined her wife in her quest to find their cat. 

Together, the two Barcelona players scoured the living room and kitchen, trying to find the black cat. When they didn’t find her there, they moved into the dining room, and then their bedroom. It was Ingrid who finally decided that they would check the one place that they were sure Bagheera wouldn’t be in. 

Elena’s room. 

The baby was six months old, and entirely the light of their lives. 

Bagheera’s life? Not so much. 

But Ingrid drags her wife down the hallway, despite the Spaniard’s insistence that there is no way Bagheera would be caught dead in there. 

The Norwegian pays her no mind, pushing the door open and walking into the room. She looks around, at the changing table, the rocking chair they have in her room, in the closet. 

But it’s Mapi who finds the cat first, her jaw flopping open in shock. 

“Ingrid,” she whispers urgently, moving toward the crib. And sure enough, there was Elena sleeping peacefully, with Bagheera wrapped around her. The black cat looks completely content and happy, more than willing to just sleep with the baby. Elena’s little fist is resting on the cat’s belly, and her face is turned toward Bagheera, even in sleep. 

The entire cat’s body is curled around their baby, her body wrapped around the baby’s head, her head laid gently on the mattress. 

Even the cat’s tail is laid over the baby’s body, resting lightly against her little belly. It’s the cutest thing Mapi’s ever seen in her entire life, and she quickly takes her phone out to snap a picture as Ingrid joins her at the crib side. 

“Who knew,” Ingrid hums softly, her voice affectionate at the sight in front of her. The two appeared entirely enraptured with one another, and Mapi felt bad about disrupting their peace. 

“I should take Bagheera, her appointment is in a bit and I don’t want us to miss it,” Mapi said forlornly, but she reached down to grab the black cat regardless, knowing that they really did need to go to the appointment. 

Bagheera limply allowed herself to be lifted, her eyes opening as her owner lifted her from the crib she had been occupying. She allowed herself to be maneuvered with little fuss, but the disruption was less than ideal for Elena, apparently. 

The baby began to fuss almost immediately, missing the comforting presence of the cat that had come to be a common presence in her crib at night, unbeknownst to her mothers. The little baby reached out for the cat instantly, looking for fur and warmth. Mapi placed the cat on the ground before she returned to the baby, her face knitted in concern at the clear unhappiness on her daughter's face. 

The Spaniard looked over at her wife with big, worried eyes. She made no move to reach for Elena, despite the fact that she was now crying. 

“Ingrid,” she prompted, looking down at the baby with an expression akin to fear. The Norwegian softened, knowing why Mapi was so concerned. 

Ingrid had been the one to deliver her, and subsequently the one who stayed home with Elena the first few months of her life. Becoming a mother had been natural to Ingrid, and she was quite good at it. She knew how to soothe, and swaddle, she had since she was a young girl. The Norwegian had slipped into the role of mother seamlessly, unlike Mapi. 

The Spaniard had not grown up around babies at all, really. It wasn’t something she was accustomed to or used to, and Elena was practically the first baby she had ever handled, apart from the odd ten minutes when she had been passed a baby who belonged to a distant relative at a family reunion or wedding. 

Throughout Ingrid’s pregnancy, Mapi had spent more than her fair share of fretting about what her relationship with her daughter would look like. Would she be close to her, would she come to understand what her baby needed, would they bond. She wasn’t the one to carry her child, but that didn’t make her love Elena any less, right? It didn’t make her any less hers, did it? 

“You are her mother too, Mapi,” Ingrid reminded the center back, not because she was chastising her, but because sometimes those were the words the defender needed to hear. 

She was ashamed to admit it, but it had been six months and she still wasn’t sure that she felt connected with her baby. When Elena cried she didn’t know what to do like Ingrid did, she just panicked. The baby didn’t look like her, or feel like hers. She saw so much of Ingrid in her daughter, and she loved that very fact, but she also ached to feel close to her. It felt like she was playing pretend, like she was a fraud. 

But she wasn’t, and Ingrid was always there to remind her of that fact. 

“I am going to get changed and take Bagheera to the vet. Why don’t you spend some time with her this morning?” Ingrid suggested, noting the panic that immediately flashed across her wifes face. She placed a comforting hand on Mapi’s shoulder, her words sure as she spoke once again. 

“You can do this Mapi. She is a baby, not a nuclear bomb. Hold her, check her diaper, feed her and snuggle with her. I know you know how to do that, and you can do this. I believe in you,” Ingrid promised and it took her a moment but Mapi nodded eventually, her face still a little worried, but holding more confidence now after the pep talk from her wife. 

The center back went to get a bottle prepared while Ingrid changed, getting Bagheera into her carrier before she returned to the kitchen, back to her wife. 

“If anything goes really wrong, you can always call me,” the Norwegian soothed, kissing the Spaniard sweetly before she slipped out the door with their cat, leaving Mapi alone with their daughter. 

With renewed determination, the brunette went back into Elena’s room. She quickly changed the baby’s diaper before giving her a bottle. But even after that, and being burped, the little baby was still fussy. 

Mapi bounced her gently, unsure of what to do. The baby just wouldn’t settle, and she found herself beginning to panic, not knowing what the next step was in trying to calm her. 

“Okay, what would Ingrid do? What would your Mama do, mi sol?” Mapi asks the little baby, receiving nothing but a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a cry. She holds Elena tightly to herself, feeling on the verge of tears, the overwhelming feeling in her gut being one of failure. 

This was her daughter, and she could not make her feel better? Could she not soothe her own child? 

She felt like a rotten parent. The brunette looks down at the little baby, at the tear tracks that run down her cheeks, at the wetness of her little eyes as she stares up at the defender. She feels a renewed sense of determination to make the baby feel better. It hurt her heart to see her upset, and she wouldn’t stop trying to make her happier until she had exhausted all of her options. 

“Come on,” Mapi decides, walking out of Elena’s room and back into her own, sitting down on the large bed. She carefully places Elena on her back on the bed, ignoring the shrill shriek that she receives in response, in favor of first stripping her own shirt, and then her daughter out of her little onesie. 

Mapi lays back against the bed, sitting up against the headboard. She settles Elena on her chest, and is genuinely shocked by the speed at which the little baby settles, melting into her mother as her cries subside almost instantly. The baby's body is warm against her own, and her little limbs relax until she is completely limp and cuddled against the Spaniard. 

The brunette brings her hand up to rub soothingly over the baby's back, and Elena lets out a relieved puff of air at the feeling. Mapi feels herself exhale a breath she hadn’t realized that she was holding as her daughter snuggled into her. 

Elena waves one of her arms, making a little grabby fist at Mapi’s other hand that was not currently on her back, and the Spaniard brings it up, allowing her daughter to grasp her pointer finger in her tiny fist, holding it tightly to her chubby body. 

“I’ve got you, mi sol,” Mapi promises, her voice thick as she drops her head to place a kiss to the crown of Elena’s head. As much as she is worried about bonding with her baby, she knows that there is no shortage of love that she feels for her daughter. 

She would happily go to the ends of the earth for her little girl, no matter what it took. She can’t imagine not loving Elena, not having her in her life. And it’s moments like these, with her daughter completely relaxed into her chest, completely content, that remind Mapi that she can do this. 

Progress is not linear, and neither is being a parent. At the end of the day she loves Elena, and she would do anything for her safety and happiness. 

And that is enough.

[remiratboi]

Probable part one of a fluffy yandere childhood best friend romance. I dno what tags yet but all in my previous posts, or pinned are possible.

Every year, your family would vacation in the Moonlight Realm. The pocket universe that had been discovered around 100 years ago. ‘Moonlight Realm’ it was affectionately called because of the creatures who dwelled there. Monsters.

As well as monsters of all kinds, the Moonlight Realm boasted of beautiful scenery, cheap rates, and what humans originally deemed “exotic cultures”.

But the humans and the monsters had settled into a comfortable coexistence, and monsters were far from rare any longer. You grew up with creatures all around you. It was common and equal. Human race had come a long way.

The little cabin you always rented for the whole summer was small and cramped. You, 3 siblings, your parents, and an elderly dog made the 2 bedroom unit feel like a shoebox. From a very young age, you had learned all the best hiding spots and getaways in the park. When you were around 10 years old, you found that apparently someone else had found them too.

A young half orc named Ollidar, or Ollie.

You didn’t speak the same language, and the first time you met, it had been awkward and confusing. You had tried to tell him he was welcome, and that there was enough room for the both of you. He seemed to understand, as he ended up sitting across from you in the small natural clearing sitting just inside the forest.

You probed him with questions, you tried acting things out, you tried writing them down with a stick in the dirt. He didn’t respond. Sometimes it looked like he understood something but he never gave any reaction. Just sat there, watching you. Sometimes he’d smile shyly.

The first summer it had been a lot to get used to. He started meeting you every day in the same spot. Sometimes he’d read, or listen to music on his EarPods, but mostly he watched you.

You wasted a few days trying to get him to respond, but since he never did, it slowly switched to you just talking to him. You told him… everything. You had to fill the silence. It would be too awkward if not.

You told him about your friends back home, your cat who you missed terribly and hoped was liking the pet sitter. About your favourite movies, books, foods. You told him about your fears, you weren’t sure why. You told him embarrassing stories. Sometimes you even worried he would think you were lame or weird and leave, but he never did. He just listened.

The summer came to an end and you did your best to tell him goodbye. That you hoped to see him again.

And you would. Every year. Every summer you spent two glorious months glued to each other’s sides. Your families became close through you. He had a sister and two moms. Your parents got along, and all of your siblings as well.

No one understood why he never spoke. It wasn’t a language barrier anymore. After 7 summers together both families knew more than enough about the other’s language. Enough to communicate with little confusion. He seemed to understand everything. If you asked him to pass you something, he would. If you gave him something he didn’t want, he’d shake his head. But he never spoke.

You stopped going on family vacations when you turned 18. You had moved out, so had most of your siblings. Your parents decided it was time for your own family vacations.

The first summer that you weren’t going, hit you harder than you’d ever imagined. Your chest hurt.

The next year was better.

And the next.

Soon you were 28 and that little half orc was just a fond, albeit, bittersweet memory.

Until your parents decide to do a sort of reunion trip this year. All of your siblings, and their families, plus you and your parents, would be taking a summer vacation to Lost Souls Campground in the Moonlight Realm this year.

It had barely changed. Some machines had been upgraded, the cabins had clearly been renovated to function with modernity, but other wise it was beautiful, serene, and just like you remembered it.

“It’s you.” A strong deep voice full of awe whispered from behind you. You turned around and was met with a face indeed in awe. It took a moment but you realized this was the first time you’d ever heard his voice.

“Oh wow!” You exclaimed. Genuine joy spreading across your face. “You’re here?!” You cried and raced up to him. He didn’t even flinch as you threw yourself at him. His arms opened and he gathered you in a powerful embrace. There was a hint of desperation in the way he clung to your soft body.

You felt a pang of anxiety that had been previously overtaken by the shock of seeing him. You were not thin anymore. And while you loved your body, and felt sexy in it, not everyone else was as comfortable with fat bodies as you were. What if he didn’t want you like this?

Want me like this? What am I thinking?!

You tried to pull yourself away from the hug, but he held tight.

“It’s you…” he muttered into your hair. He was warm, and huge. The orc part of his genes must have been strong. He dwarfed you. It took a lot for someone to make you feel small. Some part of your brain short circuited when you finally registered he had been lifting you. You panicked slightly then, worried about being too heavy and pushed yourself from his chest. He reluctantly lowered you down.

You were blushing from feet to head as you smoothed out your clothes. “Sorry, I… I was just surprised to see you.” You stuttered out. You looked up at his face. He was beautiful. You could see hints of the boy you knew, but he had grown, developed thick muscles, his face thinned out and lengthened.

“You came back.” He replied. His gaze was hyper focused on you. It seemed nothing else registered to him any longer. You squirmed a bit under such overwhelming attention.

“Yeah, we stopped back then, when all of us had moved out. But we are doing a sort of reunion trip this summer!” You explained excitedly. You felt giddy. You didn’t even really understand why. You felt excitement at seeing him.

“Does your family still come here every year?” You asked and leaned around him to see if any of them were standing near by.

“No, just me.” He answered. For the first time since seeing you, his gaze dropped. His cheeks darkened.

“You must really love this ratty old place, huh?” You joked and nudged his arm with your elbow.

“I guess.” He replied, still avoiding eye contact. “So how long are you here for?” He asked.

“The whole summer!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms out wide as if that would show the physical manifestation of time. “I had about a decade of vacations days saved up, so I decided to take the whole summer. Everyone else is just here for a couple weeks.”

He nodded and glanced back up into your eyes. “So just you and your partner are here for the summer? Or do you have kids now?” He asked and dropped his gaze again.

You chuckled. Kind of a transparent attempt my guy. “No, no partner. No kids. Never found anyone willing to put up with me long enough.” You joked self deprecatingly. “You of all people know how much I can talk.” You grimaced at yourself.

“That was my favourite thing about you.” He replied quietly. He seemed nervous. You blushed again. “The way you spoke was mesmerizing.” He continued before, it seemed, he could stop himself.

A manic sounding giggle escaped your lips. “Wow, marry me?” You joked. It was his turn to laugh like a crazy person.

“So, uh,” you continued “how long are you here for?”

“Whole summer.” He answered and smiled up at you. “How solo were you hoping to spend your time?” He ran his hand down the back of his neck and rested it on his shoulder.

You laughed and placed your hand on his arm.

A/N: I think I’ll continue this. We will see.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Too Dangerous

Ona Batlle x Reader [SMUT! rough.] Mafia and Football, can the two worlds coexist?

two part series, part two is in the making.

i had to use the new gifs im sorry, they’re not mine!

//

“I expected it to be dropped off by noon today, Michael.”

“I-I was five minutes late! There was t-traffic!”

“That’s not my fucking problem. I said noon, I want fucking noon!!”

Your hand slaps across his face, eyes seething with anger. You chuckle darkly, your fist forming tight before you punch his face repeatedly. His face slices open from the ring you were wearing, you hold yourself back from leaving another bruising blow on his mangled face. You put your hand out and a wet towel slips into it which you use to wipe your knuckles off.

Your right-hand man, George checks his pulse, nodding at you.

“He’ll be alright.”

“Of course he will, I didn’t even hit him that hard.”

“What do you want me to do with him?”

“Send him home with another shipment for tomorrow and see if he’s learned his lesson.”

You turn on your heel and throw the towel somewhere. The mansion is big with four wings; the east wing is reserved for activities such as this. You’ve two bodyguards that follow you around everywhere, your head of security insists that you can never be too careful.

“Pat, James, give me a fucking minute to breathe yeah? I think I can handle any moron that tries to jump me in my own house.”

“Yes ma’am,” James says gruffly, walking away with Pat to hang out in the security room.

Stepping into the west atrium, you hear your favorite sound in the world. You hear your girlfriend laughing at something when you also hear the chef telling her one of his serially bad jokes.

“What’s brown and sticky?”

“What?”

“A stick!”

It’s a stupid joke but Ona is too nice not to laugh wholeheartedly at it. You walk in and she hears you, leaving the conversation to jump into your arms. It had been days since she last saw you, you were on a business trip and she had shoots to do after training.

“Hi baby girl,” you say, catching her when she jumps up into your arms.

“Hi…,” she whispers, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, darling. The boys pick you up on time?”

“Sí, they were waiting for me when I walked out and saw your text. I think Martin drove my car here for me too.”

“Good, I told him to. Are you hungry? Gio would be more than happy to whip something up for us. Approved from your diet of course.”

“Mm, I am a little hungry.” You gently put her down, she presses her lips to yours and controls a searing kiss for a while. Your hands find her small waist, pulling her into you before she pulls away.

“Okay, I’m not so hungry anymore.”

It's your turn to laugh, pecking her forehead.

“You’re something baby. Come on, let’s get you fed.”

Ona requests Spanish breakfast for dinner, and Gio goes a little crazy when fulfilling her request. There are plates upon plates of food, the smell making everyone’s stomachs growl with hunger. You sit at the head of the table, Ona deciding to scoot in and settle herself in your lap. Your hand slips around her hips as she leans back into your chest.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I have a concern, can we talk after dinner?”

She pulls back and looks down at you, eyes looking a little worried. You nod, rubbing the small of her back softly.

“Of course, baby. I’ll get a bottle of champagne chilled, we can relax by the pool and have a little swim, how’s that sound?”

"Suena perfecto, bebé.”

She looked a little more relieved then, she moved to get off your lap and into her usual chair on your right. You grasp her waist a little tighter as she tries to stand, whispering only to her.

“Stay.”

The voice used insinuates obedience, she nods and begins to pile her plate high. She digs in, feeding you off her plate.

“Gio, these tostadas are divine,” you say as Ona feeds you another bite.

“Gracias! My mother would kill me if she knew I was selling her sacred recipes online.”

“Oh, could you slip a Boërl in the chiller Gio? Ona and I want a bottle to have by the pool tonight.”

“Already have, madame, it’ll be ready when you are.”

“Perfect, feed the boys will you? Lord knows they’ll never let a speckle of your cooking go to waste,” you say, pushing your chair back and helping Ona to her feet before standing yourself. You take her hand and walk towards the bedroom, climbing the quartz stairs with a little pep in your step.

The entire dinner consisted of being one, fed by Ona, and two, wracking your brain as to why she wanted to talk to you about something that was concerning her. Was it the club, or did something happen? Was there someone bothering her at the facility, a stalker I needed to get rid of? Did she want to break up with you? You’ve been together for 4 years, maybe she was bored of all the secrecy and the vows of not making your work interfere with her life when you made a mistake when we started dating.

You called her over in the morning a year ago on her day off, forgetting that she was coming soon after. You had a money laundering prick who scammed little old ladies come in and you had to “deal with it,” she walked right into the east wing where a newbie security detail moronically brought her to me.

She stood and watched you break a man's ribs, and jaw, then proceeded to cut a few fingers off to find in a bucket of others to have sewn back on. Only when there was a loud gagging sound and a flash of brown hair did you realize who was watching.

She ran to the closest bathroom and threw up, yelling at you to go away. After coaxing her to open the door, she pushed herself as far as she could away from you; she was scared. You had never let her into this part of your work, scared for this very reason. She had seen a side of you that you kept well hidden, reserved for people who fucked with you. It took her days to even look at me, let alone be in the same room as you. You had made it crystal clear that what you did was not for her to know, but for her to enjoy the wealth that came with it. She had a vague idea, and was warned severely of the consequences, should she be inclined to speak to people who could end it all. But as time went on, you knew she was not one to betray you; she had turned into one of the most loyal people in my world, someone you would gladly lay you life down for.

“I’ve got you a present,” you say, pulling her into our bedroom.

“What is it this time? You spoil me way too much.”

“It’s not another car, I promise. It’s little, fitting for tonight.”

You pull out a brand-new swimsuit, one that leaves anyone who would see her in a minute jealous that she was all yours.

“Oh bebita, it’s gorgeous.”

“Put it on, I’ve been dreaming of you in it since I bought it.”

She hops into the bathroom to change, as you pull on a swimsuit yourself. It’s plain black, and if the night goes to plan, will end up next to a lawn chair in about 30 minutes.

She walks out shyly, hands behind her back, standing in all her muscular glory.

“Fuck, it is so much better than I imagined. C’mere.”

She timidly walks over, wrapping her arms around your neck. She leans in and kisses you, lips soft and tasted like cherry. You kissed back, humming softly into her mouth. She pulled away, hands softly stroking the back of your neck.

“I love you,” she whispers, “and thank you. It’s so pretty.”

“Just like you, my girl.”

She blushes again, grabbing your hand and running down to the pool outside. She lets go of your hand and dives in, coming up and swimming to the edge. She rests her arms on the side, taking the glass of champagne from you with a soft “thank you, amor.”

You sit by the edge, feet dipped into the cold water. Sipping on the expensive alcohol, she suddenly pushes herself out of the pool and sits beside you. Remembering why you were here in the first place, she finishes her glass and you immediately fill it up again. The bubbly wine gives her liquid courage, and she feels brave enough to admit her troubles and not let her brain convince her that she’s overreacting.

“I think someone’s been following me.”

You stop drinking, head slowly turning to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been this car I’ve been seeing for weeks. At first, I thought it was just a new staff member or something but I saw it in the parking lot when I was grocery shopping the other night and I thought it was a new fan or something but now I think it’s someone because of you.”

“How long? Do not lie to me.”

“2 months.”

“Fucking hell Ona.”

Your brain immediately goes into protective mode, coming up with all the ways to find the fucker and cut him into a million pieces. You run your hand down your face.

“I want a detailed description for George tomorrow. I’ll increase your security, and put George on your team. You will not go anywhere without him, I will make sure you get to training and whatever on time. I’ll have a word with Jonatan too, see if my men can hang around to protect you and the girls if necessary until I fucking kill the bastard.”

“That’s too much baby,” she begins to negotiate but you stop her, hand raised in front of her face.

“No, not when it comes to you, darling. You only get the best, if the girls get to enjoy that too on my dime, so be it.”

She sets her glass to the side and surges forward, pressing her lips desperately on yours. You kiss back, cupping her face gently. Ona pulls away and grins, before slipping back into the pool. You’re about to jump in when she grabs your hands and pulls you in. You squeal in surprise, coming up with a cheeky grin on your face.

“You’re in big trouble, baby girl.”

“What if I want to be?” Oh, bold Ona. Very bold, my love.

“Then you won’t be opposed to being punished, hm?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You pulled me into the water, and you didn’t tell me about your stalker for two months. You’re lucky he didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to be wrong.”

“I’m not mad, my love. I’m so proud of you for being brave and coming to me. Let me worry about it now, yeah?”

“Okay.”

You pull her in for a kiss, hands roaming her body. You won’t lie, the swimsuit she had on was a massive turn-on and if we weren’t about to fuck in the pool, you was sure as hell going to devour her before bed.

“You look way too fucking good in that two-piece not to be ravishingly worshipped, my darling.”

She blushes, kissing you hard. Ona pulls your hands around to her ass, which you squeeze hard and draw a deep moan from her. Your hands pull at her cheeks, fingers rubbing gently at her asshole and folds. You maneuver her around to the edge again, picking her up easily to sit. She leans back, as your fingers pull her bottoms to the side and bury your face in her folds. She’s soaking wet, arousal thick and delicious.

She whimpers for you, strong hands tangled in your wet locks. Your tongue darts into her, throwing her legs over your shoulders before pulling her closer to the edge. You're practically holding her hips up, lips suckling at her clit hard. Ona moans loudly, back arching off the ground.

“Please!” she moans, fingers tightening in your hair as her legs squeeze at your head deliciously. You slip two fingers into her, pumping in and out of her slick pussy hard. They press up into her sweet spot, fingertips rubbing circles over it to get her to come faster. She huffed and puffed, face contorting into all kinds of pleasure. She makes eye contact and cries out your name, coming hard and fast. Ona pants, licking her dry lips.

“A la mierda esto, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will die.”

“Picked out a new strap for you to be split open on, mi amor.”

//

“puta madre!”

“Yeah, this one’s pretty fuckin’ big huh?”

“Feels s-so good!”

Your hips pound into Ona, swimsuits abandoned at the foot of the bed. She’s on her front, trying her best to push her ass back on you as you fuck her from behind. She tries to keep up, knees buckling every time the new strap finds a new erogenous spot she never knew she had. It was significantly bigger than she had ever taken, with three prior orgasms and a fingering of a lifetime, she was finally open enough to take the head. Coming once again was the key to taking the whole thing, Ona looked absolutely wrecked when speared on it.

“You’re so fucking hot baby, taking my cock so well princess,” you cooed, hands turning her onto her back as your fingers rubbed her clit that you just spat on. She was sensitive beyond words, her speech slurred, and was barely babbling, hyper-focused on her pending sixth orgasm for the night.

“Are you gonna cum, my sweet?” you whispered into her ear, leaning over her as your hips did not slow down one bit. Hands pressed her legs wide open, harness dragging over her clit with each powerful thrust.

“Yes, yes!” she croaked out, head nodding hard and fast as she cried tears of frustration and sexual arousal.

You spat on her hot clit again, fingers rubbing messily at her folds as you sped up even more. She screamed, orgasm ripping through her hard. She was convulsing and begging for you to not stop, the aftershocks making her beg again, this time for you to stop.

You chuckle and do, pulling out and pulling the harness off. She tucked in your chest immediately, cradled, and kissed softly.

“You took that so well, darling.”

“Can we take a bath together please?”

You pick her up, heading into the huge en suite. She sits pretty on the counter, feet dangling as you start a hot bath. You help her in, climbing in behind her as she settles back against your chest. Her eyes close, pulling your arms around her middle. Your lips press against her shoulders, sucking softly at her skin. She hums, biting her lip gently.

“Can we do one more?” you ask her, grinning against her ear, hand already caressing the inside of her thighs.

“Amor…” she whines, body jolting in surprise when your fingers gently rub at her sore folds.

“Just one more baby girl, then we’ll go to bed.”

Your fingers, long and thick, fill her pussy with unsurprising ease. They drag slow and taut, mulling her pleasure like an aged wine. She whines, legs opening wider in the water as your fingers slip in deeper. She grasps your forearm, grinding carefully into your hand.

“Already so close, mi vida? I can feel you clenching around me hm?”

“You feel just…so full…”

“Come for me baby, you’ve done exceptionally all night, love.”

She comes with a cry of your name, going boneless in your arms. You finger her through the aftershocks, her whines dying in her throat.

All dried and tucked in bed, Ona suddenly presses herself up on top of you. She looks down with fear in her eyes.

“When you find him,” she takes a deep breath, “You’re not going to kill him are you?”

Your hands brush up on her thighs, thumbs softly rubbing her hips.

“It depends on what choice he gives me, darling. What I do with him is none of your concern.” Your tone is final, and she doesn’t argue, instead scooting down and resting her head on your chest.

"Buenas noches, mi amor".

“Good night, my beautiful girl.”

//

“I’ll see you at the game. You won’t be late, right?”

“No, my love. George will take you; I have some business to attend to first. I’ve also spoken to security at the stadium, my men are there as an extra precaution looking for the description you gave us. It’ll be a little stuffy for the girls, I apologize.”

“Can you come and explain the situation to the girls with me?” Ona asks with wide eyes, wrapping her arms around your neck. Your hands hold her hips, gently pulling her into yours.

“Of course, bebita. Anything you want.”

She walks out of the house with three more security guards than she’s used to, shoved into a huge van with tinted windows that she couldn’t even see out of and instructions to not engage with fans for today.

“But, they’re here to see us! I can’t just ignore them!” Ona argues, determined to put her foot down.

“I’m sorry ma’am, we have to be safe,” George informs her, looking back from the front seat.

“No, I will not do it. The fans have nothing to do with it, you don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m calling Y/N,” she says firmly, dialing your number.

“Amor?”

“Missing me so soon, princesa?”

“Why am I not allowed to meet with the fans today?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“Can you tell George that please?” 

She hands the phone over, deciphering the conversation you two were having, grinning when she heard she had her way.

He hands her phone back with a slightly annoyed look.

“No one gets a shirt signed until I’ve determined they don’t look funny.”

//

“Chicas! Why the hell are there so many men in suits outside?” Patri yells out as she enters the changing room. Most of the girls nodded and began to talk amongst themselves. Suddenly, the door is opened and you walk in, the door locking behind you.

“Hola girls, hi baby,” you announce, Ona running up to you for a hug and a kiss. You spin her around and put her down before you shrug your coat off.

You greet everyone else with hugs and kisses before Alexia pipes up and enquires about why you’re here.

“Board members don’t usually visit their teams before an easy game,” she questioned, hands on her hips dramatically.

You’ve owned a sizable chunk of Barcelona for years, something your father passed down to you along with his “business” when he died 7 years ago. It was how you met Ona, having been a close friend of Alexia’s when she introduced you two at a Spain international friendly when you had visited to see Alexia play. It was love at first sight, at least for you. No one could ever compare to her.

“Sorry girls, this one’s my doing. We have a situation, I’m handling it. It’ll be this way for a while until it’s resolved.”

“Is this about that guy that’s been hovering around the facility for weeks now?” Caro asks, and the whole team begins to nod.

“Is there something I’m missing here?”

You look at Ona, then at Alexia. Alexia opens her mouth to speak when Ona lifts her hand.

“All of us have been stalked bebé. It’s the same guy,” she says, some of the girls discussing his description, and it was becoming clear that it was the same guy that Ona was talking about.

Your eyes change and you run a hand down your face. Just as you’re about to call George, he does.

“Ma’am, I have the information you asked for.”

“I do too although I have a feeling you’re going to tell me something I already know, you go first.”

The girls listen in, the room is silent except for your voice and George’s muffled one.

“He’s more than just Ona’s stalker, he’s been following all the girls.”

“Well, it looks like we’re both on the same page.”

“How did you know to check?”

“A hunch. You better have more than that for me.”

//

El Clasico goes as smoothly as it could, with Barça getting an easy win over Real. You’re in the stands, phone pressed to your ear. Ona and Aitana walk over to sign autographs and such, you wave and go back to talking to George on the phone. Ona gets close enough to hear you, sighing when you move away and walk into the tunnel without her.

Aitana notices, asking her friend if everything is alright. Ona shrugs, signing another fan t-shirt.

“Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”

//

You’ve made your way into the changing room as the girls slowly filter in. You look at little angry but smile at Ona when she walks in with Aitana.

George continues on the phone.

“He’s got a few favorites. Besides Ona, he’s been frequenting Alexia, Aitana, Lucy, and, this one was a surprise, Ingrid.”

You pull your phone from your ear, looking at the girls whose names were listed.

“Ona, Ingrid, Alexia, Aitana and Lucy. With me.”

Mapi gives Ingrid a look but lets her go, the five girls following you out to an empty physio room. They’re silent, looking at each other with great concern.

You keep talking to George.

“What’s the plan, boss?”

“He isn’t here, is he?”

“No ma’am, we’ve searched every nook and cranny.”

“The house is the safest for them right now.”

“I agree.”

“I’ll call you back in a minute.”

Click.

“Do not panic,” you start, walking into the room towards the girls. “As George said earlier, he’s been stalking everyone. But he’s followed you five more.”

"¡Oh, Dios mío!"

“What the fuck?”

“What does that mean?”

“You four will stay with Ona and me until we find the bastard.”

//

“The maids have your rooms ready. You’ve each got your own, the kitchen is through there, the gym is beside the theater, we’re having dinner by the pool on your left and I wouldn’t go near the east wing if I were you.”

“Sí, gracias,” Alexia says, grabbing her bags and taking the closest room to her. The others follow while Ona sticks around.

“I’m worried for them, bebé.”

“I am too, they’ve just been put into a world that they did not sign up for and it’s all my fault.”

“It comes with the job, amor. These stalkers aren’t something new.”

“I know but, for him to be this close to home makes it a reality I am scared to face.”

She wraps her arms around your neck, caressing the soft hair on your nape. Ona leans in and kisses you chastely, thumbs rubbing your ears softly.

“I know you will do everything possible to keep us safe, bebita. We trust you.”

“Sí, we all do,” Aitana says softly and you both turn to look at her, surprised to see all of them standing there; you hadn’t heard them come in.

“We may not know what you do Y/N, but we know enough that nowhere else is safe but here.”

//

“We’ve got extra guys on the ground, I called in a favor from an old friend of mine and we’ve gotten access to all the camera footage in the stadium that Barcelona has refused to give me. If he’s here, we’ll find him.” You tell the team at training one day, fear of him getting bolder and bolder had spread to the whole team now. Everyone was on edge, scared to go home even; you had arranged for an Airbnb for the rest of the team with the highest security you could buy, even then it didn’t feel like it would be safe till the asshole was found.

A couple of weeks had gone by and every time we got close to catching him, he managed to slip away. It was getting increasingly frustrating, the girls were getting more and more anxious about him potentially getting away with it.

There was a cryptic note on our car last week after training, with pictures of Ona and Ingrid at the park with Zeus, my dog. The letter inside said, “I know your every move before you make it, give up your search and give her to me and maybe I’ll leave the rest alone.”

The picture showed Ona circled in red. There were also five bullets in the envelope; five bullets that belonged to your gun. You knew it did because a. they were a specific size handmade for you and b. your initials were stamped on each case, hidden within the shell upon further inspection.

“George, what the fuck, are you out of your mind?! We’re not using my girlfriend as bait!” You yell, slamming your hand into the table. George sighs, shaking his head.

“Boss, please-”

“We are NOT using her as bait, George!”

“Who?”

Both your heads whip towards the sound of the voice; Ona stands in the door frame of your office in the east wing. She’s not supposed to be here.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” George starts but you raise and hand and point at the door then at him.

“Out,” you tell him before looking at Ona, “Hello, love.”

She sighs and steps aside for George to leave; he closes the door behind him.

“George is right, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I wanted to see you,” she reached out for your hand but she looked a little hesitant, “ever since you’ve been looking for this guy, you’ve been obsessed and so stressed. It’s wearing you out, bebita.”

“I have to find him, Ona. I have to protect you, protect the girls.”

“But you’ve been neglecting me.”

Her tone was sad and dejected, one that pained you to your core. You had been ignoring her, ignoring her needs. She was here and yet you were always in your office or out somewhere working. This guy had taken over your life for a while and you didn’t see the damage he was doing within.

[unabashegirl]

my best friend's dad | sneak peek

Y/N and Scarlett Styles are best friends in college. They share everything even their plans for Spring Break. They have a trip to Bahamas planned. Everything takes a turn when Scarlett is unable to fly, and Y/N is forced to coexist and interact with Scarlett's dad.

Author's note: hello everyone, I just wanted to give everyone a sneak peek of the upcoming one shot that will be uploading in a few days. I tried to made it only one part, but as I was writing it I realized that I needed to add more context, so it's going to be a two part one shot. The first part has already been upload to my patreon.

check out my patreon and get full access to the first part (+4K words) and much more :) thank you beforehand!

masterlist

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Y/N felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she listened to Harry's encouraging words. She realized that she didn't have to have everything figured out right away. This trip, with its new experiences and conversations like this one, was already helping her see things from a different perspective.

After a while, Harry put down his tablet and stretched. "I think it’s time for a swim down at the beach. Care to join me?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

They made their way through a winding path bordered by lush foliage, leading to a secluded stretch of beach that seemed untouched by the usual tourist crowds. The soft sand greeted their feet as they approached the water's edge, the gentle lapping of the waves creating a soothing soundtrack. Harry glanced around with a smile.

“Breathtaking as always” he remarked, gesturing to the pristine beach.

Y/N nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over her. The beach was indeed stunning, with its turquoise waters and powdery white sand stretching into the distance. It felt like a hidden paradise, far removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

"I can see why Scarlett loves it here," Y/N said, taking in the beauty of the surroundings.

The next day dawned with a soft, rosy glow creeping over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Harry woke before the sun, as was his routine, slipping on his running gear quietly so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the villa. He tiptoed downstairs, the floor cool under his feet, and headed for the front door. As he passed through the living room, he glanced out onto the terrace.

There, on one of the sunbeds, Y/N lay curled up under a blanket, her silhouette softened by the early morning light. She had fallen asleep waiting for the sunrise, her peaceful expression making her look even more serene. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He found it endearing

Resisting the urge to wake her, Harry quietly slipped outside and started his jog along the quiet streets. The rhythmic pounding of his footsteps helped clear his mind, but try as he might, thoughts of Y/N kept intruding. He couldn't shake the image of her in that attractive bikini, her laughter echoing in his mind from the day before. It wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated him; it was her warmth, her intelligence, and the easy way they connected.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Harry quickened his pace, pushing himself harder. He hadn't expected to be so affected by Y/N's presence, and he chastised himself for dwelling on thoughts that felt inappropriate given their relationship. He had spent the previous day enjoying her company, sharing stories, and learning about her dreams and ambitions. Yet, now he found himself unable to shake the attraction he felt towards her.

By the time he returned to the villa, the sun was fully risen, casting a bright light over the tropical landscape. Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts as he cooled down. He decided to take a cold shower, hoping the shock of cold water would help clear his mind. As he stood under the refreshing spray, he couldn't help but feel ashamed of his inner turmoil. He didn't want to complicate things or make Y/N uncomfortable during their time together.

He just couldn’t get that damn bikini off his mind. The one she had wore the day before. The red color complemented her sun-kissed skin beautifully, accentuating her curves in all the right places. His hand creeped down and grabbed throbbing cock, trying get some release from the torture that he was experiencing.

COMING SOON.

[endofthelinepal107]

sukuna - a deal with the devil pt. 3/3

{a good old-fashioned timeskip. where do you and the king of curses stand a year after your alliance?} 3.6k words

part one + part two + part three

notes: he's even softer, definitely OC sukuna at this point but who cares i'm delusional

warnings: cursing, nudity (no smut)

tags: @missroro + @doodle-cat16

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

"Guess what day it is today."

Sukuna glanced over at you. He was working out on the lounge floor while you were on the phone. He'd figured out a few minutes ago that you were talking to Satoru. 

"What? No!" You laughed. "It's mine and Sukuna's anniversary!"

Sukuna stopped at the peak of a push up, eyebrows furrowing. For a split second, he was unsure if he had missed some social cue along the way that should have told him he was courting you. In this modern age, relationships moved much faster than he remembered from during his lifetime. Not that he'd had much experience courting back then, either. He was too busy murdering everyone he saw to bother with anything more personal.

"Our meeting-a-versary!"

Sukuna sighed and went back to his push ups. Phew. He was grateful for that. Not that he would have minded that revelation all that much. He doubted it would change much about your relationship anyway.

"Our dynamic is not weird, 'toru."

Sukuna sat up and leaned back on his hands, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Your dynamic kind of was weird, though. He knew you knew that. Both of you tried pretty hard not to think about it. There was more leniency from the others with him, but not very much. You were still expected to be together all of the time. That meant that, apart from the rare occasions you'd managed to convince Sukuna and someone else to coexist for a few hours so you could go do something private, you had just been together. Sukuna knew you better than people that had known you for years, and you knew things about him that nobody would ever know.

"Ugh, do you have t- No, we don't!" You crossed your arms, pouting at your phone as though Satoru could see you through it. Sukuna watched you with a tiny smile. "What? Well- No, I mean, we do still share a bed, but- No, it's not-" You let out a groan. "Satoru, if you say one more thing about 'kuna, I'm going to hang up the phone." There was a brief pause. Then you leaned forward and hung up. You scowled.

Sukuna cleared his throat. He always liked how he could get your attention so easily now. Not because it made him feel powerful, but because it confirmed that you did care for him like he cared for you, despite the singularity of your situation.

"More questions?" He asked, as though he hadn't been eavesdropping the whole time.

You hummed. "Yeah. They're all so nosy. You'd think by now they'd have.." You trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. You knew why people had so much to say about your relationship with Sukuna. So did he.

"Learned not to ask?" Sukuna supplied.

You nodded, standing up and pulling a water bottle out of the fridge. "Exactly. Even if they do think it's weird, it's our business, right?" You walked over to him, dropping the bottle in his lap.

Sukuna opened it and chugged half before he stuck his hand out. You helped him up. It was more of a symbolic help because you couldn't shift his body if you tried with all your might. You didn't mind, though. He let you do it and that meant something.

He nodded in agreement to your words, sauntering towards the bathroom. "Should tell them all to fuck off."

You laughed. "Why is that your solution so often nowadays?"

"Because I got him to lower his infinity one time and you still won't let me near him." Sukuna shot you a pointed look, one that was meant to say 'let me beat him up' but really said 'you should stick up for yourself more.' And then he was closing the bathroom door.

You walked into the bedroom, changing into your pyjamas and then settling into the pillows. Satoru's words weren't anything new, but they still rattled around your brain. 

You knew it was strange for you and Sukuna to have never stopped sharing a bed. His funds had been in your bank for a long time now. The number was so high that you literally couldn't fathom it. You could've bought a bed. You could've bought a million beds made of gold. Sukuna should've insisted on it; he was the King of Curses, he shouldn't have been sharing a bed with a mere sorcerer. Especially not because of an agreement that was made all that time ago, which barely crossed your mind nowadays.

But you still woke up every morning intertwined. Usually, he was on top of you, his body draped over yours in a way that was simultaneously pulling you closer and keeping anything from disturbing you. And you liked the closeness, just like you knew he liked it, even if neither of you had ever said so.

Sukuna finished in the shower and dried himself off, padding into the bedroom in his robe. He turned off the light and climbed into the bed without a word. He rolled onto his side, reaching out until his hand found your body. His fingers dug into your waist and he gave you a tug towards him.

"Mm." You hummed and shuffled closer, letting him pull you flush against him. His body shifted so that he was partly covering you. You fell asleep.

Nothing disturbed him until the middle of the night. Sukuna opened his eyes enough to see that it was still dark and then snapped them closed again, moving to pull you closer. When he realised his arms were empty, a genuine sense of panic set in.

He took a deep breath, barely stopping himself from lashing out at the closest thing. Blind rage wasn't his style these days. He slowly rose to his feet and made his way through the house, eyes roaming the darkness until he saw you.

You were sitting on the couch, very still. You were nestled into the corner and you looked dazed, but clearly upset. Sukuna walked over and sat beside you.

For a moment, he was unsure of what to do. Even after all this time together, those few minutes before and after sleep were the only ones that held any kind of physical affection. Besides hitting each other, neither of you ever really showed it. Even then, it was usually him hitting you. He liked it, because he liked how you always reacted and he liked the reminder of how he'd learned to soften himself a little so that he could be playful with someone.

When you shuffled over to him and curled into his side, he was surprised. Surprised that he hadn't had time to think of what he was going to do, surprised that it was you that initiated the contact. Surprised that you wanted it.

His hands found your hips and he effortlessly lifted you up, resting you in his lap. His strong arms wrapped around you. He felt you stiffen for a second, just as taken aback as he was by his actions. Then you nestled your face into his neck and held him back.

Sukuna held you in silence for a while. He knew that quiet contact was what you were seeking, so he let you have it. He found himself strangely grateful that he could offer this comfort to you. Knowing someone intimately enough to know what they needed wasn't something he'd ever seen for himself before he knew you, let alone being trusted enough to actually implement it.

"What's wrong?" Sukuna murmured in your ear after a good few minutes had passed.

You sighed, leaning back so that you could see him but stay in his lap. "I can't sleep."

"Why?"

"I found out there's a secret execution out for both of us. I-I was going to tell you in the morning."

Sukuna very nearly laughed. Almost. "That's it? That's all it is?"

You looked at him completely seriously. "I'm not worried that you're going to die, I'm not stupid."

"What, then?" He asked.

You hesitated, then muttered, "I'm scared that they're going to turn their backs on us, and then all of this won't be worth anything to you, and you'll toss it all aside- toss me aside- and I'll lose you. That the agreement won't be important anymore and then none of this time together will matter."

Sukuna was stunned. Genuinely stunned, just like he had been on that very first day he'd met you.

You really cared that deeply about him? And he'd really doubted that you did?

He forced himself to mutter some normal responses.

"I'll kill anyone that tries to touch you, let alone harm a hair on your head. You are stronger than those pathetic sorcerers that would dare to do such a thing. I will split the world into pieces before they get the chance. The entirety of the jujutsu world is nothing compared to the power that you and I hold. You have the force of an empire at your behest, because I will not turn my back on you."

Normal responses for him, anyway.

You listened to him quietly, looking at him as he spoke. Sukuna's words were always slightly alarming, but you'd learned to see the comfort in them. He never lied. You knew that, to him, his strength was the greatest thing he could offer you. And so it was the greatest comfort when he goes on his little murderous tirades the moment you present him with a new target.

In the face of your attentive quiet, Sukuna found himself drifting away from the topic slightly. "It truly astonishes me that, after all that you've done for the jujutsu world, it could still turn its back on you. You have sacrificed so much. I told you it wasn't worth it and that they didn't deserve your energy, yet you continued to prioritise their collective welfare over your own. This is the price that you get for that goodness." His voice grew an edge as he grew more and more angry. "You should be good. I admire that you're good. It infuriates me when that's thrown in your face. It's something I would do, why are those self-righteous sorcerers doing it?"

A look of genuine anger crossed your face. Sukuna stopped talking, unsure of what he said that would make you mad.

"No, 'kuna, that's not the kind of thing you would do," you frowned. "You would never do that. You'd be more inclined to kill me directly. You wouldn't stoop to that low of throwing my effort back in my face, by encouraging people that I know, friends, to kill me."

And then Sukuna was getting angrier. "Don't say that," he growled. "Don't you dare use words like 'kill' and 'you' in the same fucking sentence when you're speaking to me."

Both of you glared at each other like petulant children. Slowly, the silence lengthened and then shifted as you realised that neither of you were angry for an actual reason anymore. Your eyes met his and you realised that he'd come to the same realisation.

You cracked first. You always did when it came to things like this. Despite your best effort to keep pouting, a giggle broke free.

At the first sign of your smile, Sukuna's anger completely disappeared. He was so obviously delighted to see you happy that it made your heart hurt. His arms wrapped around you and he held you close, chin resting on your shoulder.

He was so grateful. Grateful, grateful, grateful.

Your arms wrapped around him too, as tightly as you could. Sukuna always liked it when you held him. That was why you always woke up with him in your arms.

But he only had to pull back slightly to know that you were still upset about the execution. He gazed down at you for a few seconds, and then made his mind up. He would love you. That would make you feel better, if he could just figure out which demonstration of his love was the right one.

When Sukuna thought about how he loved you, he didn't think about telling you in some romantic gesture: I've always loved you, my darling angel. He didn't think about sweeping you off your feet with a kiss, holding your trembling body against his as he pulled soft gasps from your lips. Both thoughts made him smile.

No, that wasn't what Sukuna's love looked like.

He had hold of your hips again. He stood up, with you still attached, then set you on your feet. His hand slid into yours and he pulled you into the kitchen. Without an explanation, he pottered around the small space, pouring out your current favourite drink.

Then, when it was safely in your hands, he found the phone and started to play your music, the songs that he'd noticed you listening to most recently. He watched you like a hawk as you gratefully sipped your drink. But, when you smiled at him, he shook his head.

He turned and switched the oven on, found the cookbook, and tugged you over.

"Bake."

You looked taken aback, but you could see that he was serious, even if you didn't understand why. Dutifully, you began to mix a cookie batter. Sukuna hovered behind you the entire time. When you slid the cookies out of the oven, he switched into his true form, giving you no time to adjust to something you'd only seen a few times in the whole year you'd been together, and sat down on the floor. You were pulled firmly into his lap so that you could comfortably eat your cookie near the heat of the oven.

He watched you, even when you finally noticed how fierce his gaze was and looked up. He let you feed him a piece of your cookie, letting out a pleased hum of approval. Sukuna smiled when that soft interaction made you more happy than the whole process of baking had.

But you weren't better yet.

Sukuna stood up, changing back into his normal form, but keeping you in his arms. He carried you into the bathroom and started to pour out a bath. When he noticed you looking for the soap, he caught your wrist and tugged you to his side.

"Don't do anything."

You were confused, but you did as he asked, watching curiously as he pulled out a small box from the top of the linen closet. "What's that?"

"I was saving it," he murmured, opening it and letting you see inside.

It was full of special shampoos, conditioners, soaps, and bath bombs. He was saving it only partly because he knew a time would come for them. Mostly because he had never figured out quite how to explain that he knew your favourite smells and what would work in your hair or with your skin.

He was so busy checking that everything was fine that it wasn't until he turned to you to ask you to check the water temperature that he realised you were looking at him with something in your eyes that he didn't think he'd ever seen before.

You didn't give him a chance to ask about it. You stepped up to him and gave him a tight hug. He could tell that you were putting as much force into it as you physically could, so he didn't laugh when he effortlessly held you tighter. He held you close until you tipped your head back to look at him.

"Will you help me?"

Sukuna nodded, fingers sliding to your collar. He unbuttoned your shirt deftly, then slid it down your arms. He folded it and put it on the nearest surface, then gently pulled your shorts down your legs. He set that down too. Then he was inhaling the scent of your hair as he leaned over you, his fingers unclasping your bra. He was bending slightly so that he could hook his fingers in your panties and pull them down.

In the back of his mind, it registered that this was the first time he'd ever seen you this exposed. It was the first time he'd touched you here, seen you there. But it didn't really feel like a first time. It felt like this was normal, like it wasn't a big deal for him to do this. Like you had always been his in this way, and he had always been yours in this way.

His warm hands were on you as you climbed into the bath. One on your hip, feeling the curve of your waist, and the other on your wrist, both making sure that you were safe and not in any danger of slipping. 

He might have nearly laughed at the prospect of a secret execution coming close to harming you, but the idea of you hurting yourself normally plagues him every day. There've been hundreds of times that he's insisted he use his RCT on you for little scrapes that you've gotten. Hundreds of times that you've had the same discussion where he's insisted that you're careless with yourself and you've said you're just clumsy and he's called you a stupid idiot and you've shut him up with a bright smile and an I've got you to help, though, right?

Sukuna watched you warily as he let go of you. He waited as you slid all the way under the water, staying under for a few seconds before sliding back up. His hands were on your face before you even had a chance to lift your own, thumbs swiping away the water from your eyes and brushing your hair out of your face. When you looked up at him, face clear of water, Sukuna finally looked relieved. This was the thing that helped, then. This was the part of his love that would make you happier and less stressed.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted happy, not happier.

He pushed his robe over his shoulders, letting it hang around his waist. Then he walked around behind you, sinking to his knees on the tiled floor. Without a word, he reached for your head, silently insisting on doing your hair for you. Neither of you spoke for a while. He ran the shampoo and conditioner through, then began to brush your hair. 

"You've gotten so good at managing it," you mumbled, eyes closed happily.

Sukuna grunted. "Managing what?"

"Your force. It doesn't hurt when you're doing something like brushing my hair, but it used to hurt when you even laid a hand on my arm."

He smiled, glad to hear you say it. He'd already known he had improved a lot, but it felt worth so much more to hear it from your lips.

He finished with your hair. The next step seemed obvious, but he had the awareness that, no matter how intimate this all seemed, he couldn't go further without murmuring something.

Quietly, he said, "I'll bathe your body now."

"Okay."

That soft, mumbled agreement made his heart swell. He rose to his feet and found your hand under the water, pulling you to your feet. You let out a soft protest as he made you stand up in the bath. His warm hands on your skin eased the chill almost right away.

Sukuna focussed incredibly hard. He had to make sure that he did this right, that he treated your body with the reverence he believed it deserved. That his soapy hands graced every part of your soft, blemished skin. That nothing he did hurt you.

And his intense concentration meant that he failed to notice the way that you were watching him again. This time, because you'd recognised the look in his eyes, and you were admiring the way that his hands looked against your skin.

"Happy?" You chuckled after a while. Your teasing voice broke him out of his reverie.

He looked up, smiling slightly. "Yes. Are you?"

"Mhm." You slid back into the water, letting out a content sigh. 

Sukuna wasn't really surprised when your hand found his wrist and tugged. Nor, when your pretty lips parted with a soft question.

"Will you get in, Sukuna?"

He nodded. His hand slipped out of yours so that he could loosen his robe and let it fall completely. He nudged you forwards and then climbed into the tub behind you. Sukuna rested his hands on your hips, but he let you be the one to decide whether or not you slid back or not. When you did, he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head in your neck.

"D'you want me to wash you?" You asked.

His reply came out like an admonishment. "No, foolish woman. You're the one that needed comforting. Stop trying to do things for everyone else all the time. Be selfish. Have you no self-respect?"

He was lucky that you knew him and his favouritism well enough to just smile over your shoulder at him.

All of the times he'd thought oh, shit to himself converged. He stared at your content smile, at the soft way you looked at him. And everything aligned in his mind and, this time, he just said it out loud.

"Oh, shit."

You looked at him in confusion, then laughed. "What?"

"You're beautiful," Sukuna stated simply. "You fill the gaps that I can't fill myself. You're the one that's meant to be by my side."

When your smile broadened and you leaned back into him again, he didn't mind that it took you a while to reply. He didn't feel nervous. Sukuna knew for certain that you understood him and you understood the weight and sincerity in his words. He didn't have any fear that you were something he could lose this way. The only thing he could lose you to was death, and he'd already begun making sure that wouldn't happen.

When your reply came, it was all he'd really wanted to hear.

"'Sukuna?"

"Mm."

"I love you."

"I know. I love you."

"I know."

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

he's softer than melting ice cream but i can't help it I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! i hope you guys don't mind sappy sukuna, i'm planning to write something a little less OC soon. that's the final part to this series!

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

[siennaditbot]

Sethos x Reader: Sun & Moon

Hehe, look at me actually finishing it lol. Been ages since I've written x Reader stuff but I hope yall like it. Sethos needs more love <3

Female reader but I hope yall can still enjoy it lol :>

Sethos was a people person. He could talk to everyone and make them forget that they hadn't just met him, seamlessly integrating into any group he wished.

He had a good facial memory, so he could strike up a familiar conversation with most of the citizens.

But there was someone in Sumeru City that he had never properly caught for a chat. A humble cleaner girl, who seemed to hate him for some reason.

Whenever he tried to start a casual conversation with her, she focused on anything but him, her body language telling him she did not want to talk. Her replies were curt and he had to try hard to keep the conversation from dying.

He was pushy, yeah, but he knew not to push his luck. She was practically holding a weapon she could smack him with, after all. An everyman’s polearm - a broom.

So, he stopped approaching her. They just coexisted, him passing by her sweeping the streets sometimes, offering a polite wave as he jogged past her.

Then, on one rainy day, Sethos was caught enjoying the shower between his errands. He stood in the middle of the empty street, eyes closed and face lifted skyward as if to hug the rainfall.

But the rain suddenly stopped.

He opened his eyes in surprise and briefly met hers, before she handed her umbrella to him and dashed off. He was left there, staring at her disappearing form and the splatters of water as she ran.

He was confused, but shrugged the absurd encounter off with an amused smile.

“Heh, guess she doesn't hate me, after all. Interesting.”

Sethos loved being in the city. It was full of fascinating people, especially within the Akademiya. He loved learning about them, their stories, ideas and passions.

And now the curt sweeper girl had caught his interest.

He still politely greeted her when he passed by, and her responses were curt as ever, usually simply nodding and letting him pass. But now he read her behavior as shy and awkward instead of hateful.

His polite smile became a bit more genuine when he understood.

He kept noticing her in other places after that, too. She was often found sitting in random spots, holding a notebook she was very focused on, not paying attention to anyone who wondered what her deal was.

Sethos was one of them. He curiously eyed her every time he saw her, but she never lifted her face from her notebook.

One day she was sitting on a box behind Lambad’s Tavern, hand going wild as she worked on the notebook in her lap. Sethos noticed her, and decided to approach her for once.

She jumped when his voice cut through her concentration, having broken into her bubble.

“Soo. What’cha working on there?”

She immediately shut the notebook and looked away, clutching it to her chest.

“Heh, you were really into it. Sorry for spooking you.”

She didn't reply, no idea what to say, so she literally waved it off. He got the message, leaning against the railing next to her.

“You're a funny one, you know. I can never expect where you'll be sitting with that secret tome of yours. I’ve heard people call you a local cryptid because of it.”

That made her snort, and she immediately threw a hand up to cover her mouth.

His smile widened, proud of drawing a new reaction out of her.

“It's true, though. I've seen you on several branches of the Divine Tree, on a roof or two, and I swear I caught you behind a bush once. What's up with that?”

She scratched her cheek shyly, not expecting anyone to pay attention to her.

“...Inspiration”, she finally managed.

“Inspiration, eh? What's so inspiring about sitting behind a bush?”

She chuckled lightly in response.

“I just like switching spots. Different angles.”

"Riight, right, that makes sense. What do you need that inspiration for, then? Writing, drawing, homework?”

She turned the cover of the notebook towards him. It had ‘sketchbook’ written on it in fancy letters.

“Ohhh, an artist, I see. That's cool. You got the whole ‘vibe’ down too, now that I think about it.”

She drew the sketchbook back to herself again, shrugging with a small, amused hum.

“Quiet and mysterious. Who knows what's going on inside those covers”, he explained with a playful grin.

She was still curt, but her small smile gave him confirmation that she definitely didn't hate him.

“I’ll let you continue, then. Can't stop an artist when inspiration hits, after all.”

After seeing her nod and timidly wave at him, he stood back up with a satisfied smile. He waved in response and walked off, arms stretched behind his head as he went to continue on with his day.

From there on, he stopped to bother her for a moment or two whenever and wherever he caught her. She didn't seem willing to talk about art or her secret sketchbook, so he kept the conversation alive, talking about whatever. She was still curt and shy, but her snorts and amused huffs became a more common occurrence as days passed.

One day, after he was done telling one of his stories, she seemed particularly thoughtful.

“What's up? Remind you of something? Oh, oh, did I give you inspiration?” he grinned excitedly, pointing at her.

She took a moment to formulate her reply.

“..How do you always have something to talk about?”

He didn't expect that. She didn't seem annoyed, though..

“Heh, I’ve just seen and heard many interesting things. I like sharing mine, and learning more from the people I meet.”

“That simple?”

He shrugged casually.

“I’m a people person. I like talking and listening.”

Her face formed a strained smile as she looked away.

“My brain always goes blank when there's people around. It's like there's not a single thought in there.”

That seemed to confirm his assumption of her treatment of him before. She was just shy. Or socially anxious.

“Ah. More of an introvert, then?”

“...No, I want to be around people. I just… short circuit. Not very interesting company.”

“I think you're plenty interesting”, he stated matter-of-factly, “you've got me curious.”

That surprised her, and she turned to look in the general direction of his face, but still not meeting his eyes.

“You’re curious? About me?”

“Sure am. There's the sitting in random spots thing, your mystery book, how you're so focused you don't react to people gawking and talking about you right next to you…”

He counted with his fingers, amused but genuine.

“There's obviously a lot going on in there. I’m curious about what sorts of ideas you have. Art isn't exactly the biggest thing around the city, after all.”

She had to take a moment to take in his words.

“It's nothing special, really. Just stories, imaginary situations and encounters.”

“A bit of fantasy added to the ordinary, eh? That's fun. Care to give me an example?”

A bit nosy, maybe, but he was interested.

She looked away for a moment, not sure if she should or whether she even could produce an example for him. He seemed genuinely curious though, so she tried, and inspiration hit when she gazed down at the docks.

“Um, like, a long-awaited reunion happening down there. A tearful embrace…”

She suddenly felt very embarrassed.

“..That's dumb, isn't it? I can-”

“No, no, no, don't worry. I can see it. A bit of a romantic, aren't you?”

She blushed a little, but shrugged with a noncommittal chuckle.

“Comes with the whole art thing, I think.”

“Heh, makes sense. I like it.”

A moment of silence. It was comfortable to him, but she felt the need to fill it.

“U-um, thanks, for, you know, always talking to me.”

He wasn't expecting that, either, and hummed in question, grinning curiously.

“...I like talking to people. It's just..difficult”, she continued, wanting her thanks to reach him properly.

“Well, I’m always down for a chat. I'll keep stopping by to bother you, then?”

“You aren't bothering me. But yeah. I'd like that. Maybe I’ll learn some tips and tricks from the master of social skills”, she joked with a soft smile.

“Sounds like a plan.”

And so they continued their occasional chats. He often ended up stopping people to talk with them, anyway, but it was nice to have confirmation that he actually wasn't bothering her.

His company gradually helped her relax and learn to imitate some of his social techniques, like asking questions and using more open body language.

Eye contact was still an issue for her, though. And to Sethos’ surprise, it bugged him a little.

He was straightforward and social, so eye contact came naturally to him. Not everyone he talked with looked back into his, so he knew it wasn't easy for everyone. And, to be fair, his eyes were kind of intense, which was a blessing and a curse sometimes.

Yet, somehow, he couldn't shake the thought of wanting to meet her eyes. She was always looking somewhere else when they talked. Usually her sketchbook.

Still, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he did his best so she could relax when they chatted. He wouldn't push her, make her feel like she had to do it.

He had only met her eyes once, by accident that time she handed him her umbrella. They were bright and curious, almost striking in the muddiness of the downpour.

He remembered them clearly.

So, instead, he focused on learning more about her and her ideas and visions, and loved telling her his stories since they seemed to inspire her to some extent.

He learned to pick up on the change in her expression when she moved from listening to him to formulating an idea.

It was cute.

He thought positively about people, appreciated their qualities, both inside and out, but it wasn't often that he considered a person cute.

That thought lingered in his mind, too.

Her reactions made her even more cute to him. She blushed at times, yes, but she was playful in return, smacking him with her pencil or broom or rolling her eyes with that amused smile of hers. And she gladly showed him her work now.

He didn't think it affected how he interacted with her, but he unconsciously became a bit more friendly, almost flirty at times. He often grinned when they talked, initiated playful physical contact - like poking or gently kicking her - and couldn't help but give her tons of honest compliments, especially on her art.

One time after their brief chat when she was working, he was left with a single thought in his mind:

“Heh, shucks. I like her.”

It wasn't a world changing revelation, just made him connect the dots and realize how much his way of interacting with her had changed.

…And he was pretty sure she liked him too.

He kept interacting with her like usual, honestly just enjoying what they had. A comfortable friendship with banter, intrigue and plenty of laughter.

But it would be a lie to say that he wasn't also gauging more on what she could be feeling.

He picked his best stories, told them with a bit more flair, and gave her more casual compliments.

And, well, if their knees happened to touch when they were talking, or his playful pokes lingered on her skin a moment too long to be read as platonic, he didn't make a big deal out of it.

One day Sethos caught her sketching on a sturdy branch of the Divine Tree, easily accessible but not immediately visible to the townsfolk.

He chuckled and approached her, nimbly making his way to her in the tree.

“You're an enigma, you know that?” he grinned as he sat down next to her.

“It’s simple, really. The view is great from here. So many people to see, so much inspiration to gather.”

He looked down. The citizens were enjoying their evening activities; entering and exiting the tavern, boats docking, adventurers returning to get their rewards for their daily commissions.

It was interesting. He preferred to be mingling down there with them, but stepping back and watching the hustle and bustle from a different angle made him appreciate it in a new way.

He might not have lived in the city for long, but watching all those people do their thing made him realize how lucky he was to be around so many people nowadays. He grew up in the desert, with only the people of the temple as his company, after all.

He was gazing down with a gentle and slightly solemn expression, happy to be where he was now. He had friends, connections, and now… her, too.

He turned to look at her, about to share his appreciation for the view too, but to his surprise, he met her eyes. She had been watching him, curious about how quiet he went and what he was thinking of.

Her eyes held a hint of worry, but enough affection to make him stumble with his words. This time it was Sethos who broke eye contact, turning to look back down.

“Y-yeah. I get it. All those people have their own lives and stories to tell.”

“Exactly!” she chuckled and pointed the end of her pencil at him. “A gold mine of inspiration and ideas.”

They both loved getting ideas from people, huh? Their ways were different, sure, but maybe they were pretty similar, after all.

Stories, curiosity, ideas and inspiration. They worked well together.

That train of thought suddenly made him feel the need to communicate his feelings to her. Like his soul was calling out, wanting to connect with this girl whose company he had been enjoying more and more.

“You know, you remind me of the Moon sometimes”, he started, fittingly artistic for what he was about to do.

“Sounds fun and poetic. Care to elaborate?”

“You're always present, I just gotta know where to look. Mysterious, but mesmerizing.”

“Hehe, thank you.”

She smiled, but didn't seem to catch the full meaning of his words, so he continued.

“What I’m trying to say is, I like you. You draw my attention in a way no one else does.”

Well that definitely caught her attention.

Their eyes met again, and he nodded, not ashamed or embarrassed, but ever so slightly nervous.

“You do?”

She cleared her throat to answer him.

“...I always thought you were like the Sun. You're warm, fun, and easily draw people to you.”

She wasn't as calm as he was, but hoped her indirect poetic message reached him too.

“Does that mean what I think it does?” he couldn't help but ask, a hopeful grin on his face.

She moved her gaze down and nodded.

“I-I like you too. I feel like I can relax around you.”

Both sat in silence, soft and giddy grins on their faces, taking in the big words hanging in the air.

They turned to look back down at the citizens buzzing around the streets, the shy mood eventually becoming comfortable again, and moved on into imagining what kinds of adventures the people below them had experienced today.

Their fingers soon found each other and intertwined slightly as they sat together.