#the pattern flows nicely

[change-name-later]

Did some mental gymnastics for funzies. Going through the different story arcs and writing down release dates/year, episode count, etc.

After looking through all the release dates of previous arcs. I noticed that every starting arc of the year starts on the third Saturday of the month. (Except for the Waluigi arc. Which started on the fourth week) . A pretty solid routine they've had for the past 6 years.

So with that. I'm predicting the arc will (hopefully) start next week. And if not, then April 19th. But I really hope it doesn't come to that.

[vaguely-concerned]

*fully sweating bullets and thousand yard staring into space as the king of hearts starts to talk about losing the person you love and what you'd be willing to do to get them back* this better not be fUCKING thematic foreshadowing for what this story is meant to head towards eventually (I say, with little hope and great trepidation). we're just going to be thematically microdosing on that in the main krew right folks. no one's going to be lost forever. right??!?!

(though I must admit that the idea of some of them dying and being brough back because that is someone else's heart's desire -- because 'what would even be the point of being given anything else, if you aren't here with me' -- would render me fully incapable of being normal ever again and forever goodnight)

[iamthescalesofjustice]

everybody wants to know why the faceless man seeks the dragon book. who hired them they say, does the house of black and white still pursue a higher goal? i say (knowing that no matter what i say the most unfathomable godawfulest takes about this series have already been well-aired in full seriousness by someone somewhere so i need not fear setting a new bar) what if messere deltarune is simply having his hot girl summer. what then?

[nakedinthetrees]

Patterns of Your Love

Neteyam x Human!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

WARNINGS: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, SMUT including fingering,thigh riding, p in v/m&f intercourse, dirty talk, pet names, size difference, interspecies relationship, alien genitalia

Word count~4340 Art work created by @zeroseydorum

The heat of the Pandoran sun radiated through the thick branches of the trees above where you and Neteyam laid in the plush grass of the forest. Neteyam’s eyes were closed, muscles relaxed as he allowed your small form to lay across his chest, his comparably large hand supporting your waist, caressing your side gently with a thumb. You were propped up on your forearms staring down at him intently, counting each of his calming breaths, noting the small occasional hums he would let slip as he exhaled. Your eyes drifted to his long braids, splayed out in the grass around his head like separate coinciding streams of water.  A sliver of sunlight painted in a diagonal line across his face. Everything about him seemed so perfect. One of the things that had immediately caught your eyes about him was his stripes. They seemed thicker in comparison to the other na’vi. Decorating his body so beautifully. Every stripe seemed purposeful. Your eyes lingered on the angled pattern on his forehead, following their flow of movement across his face. With careful fingers you raise your hand, gently gliding the tips of your fingers along his cheekbone, tracing the stripe toward the center of his face until it trails off before moving your hand up toward his forehead. Stretching your index and middle fingers apart, you place them at his hairline then slowly move them down, following the slanted lines of his stripes, progressively closing your fingers as you reach the place in the center of his brow bone. A low hum rumbled in Neteyam’s throat as your fingers repeated the action, your own mind transfixed on him, ”That feels nice…” his voice breaks the silence in a smooth whisper, a relaxed smile growing on his lips, “Does it?” you whisper back, reflecting his own smile. Your question is met with a satisfied hum in response, prompting you to repeat the action a few more times, watching Neteyam relax further under your touch. Your hand drifts down toward his chest, fingers immediately caressing the thick stripes along his pectoral, noting the brief hitch in Neteyam’s breathing as your feathery touches move across his skin. 

“What are you doing?” He asks with a slight chuckle in his voice, finally opening his eyes to look down at you. Your eyes meet his for a brief moment, returning his smile before glancing back down at the pattern on his skin, “Your stripes are so pretty” you reply, trailing your fingers down the center of his chest, noticing how his muscles tense slightly at your actions causing you to quirk a curious brow, “Is my big, mighty warrior sensitive?” You chuckle with a playful smirk. Neteyam moves his hand to caress your jaw carefully, shifting your gaze back to his own, his thumb wanting to press over your lips, mentally cursing the oxygen mask that guarded your face, “Do not tease me, little one” Neteyam scolds you with his own playful smile, “Besides… You know full well what you do to me.”. Your gaze fell from his face to his body once more, admiring his azure skin with your finger tips. As his chest faltered a bit from his shaky breath, a new idea formed in your mind. You shifted your gaze to the side of his head, where his nearly bunny-like ears flicked absentmindedly. Carefully you shift your weight forward, just enough to place your hands by the sides of his head without having to strain. Just as carefully you allow your hands to gently cup the Na’vi’s long ears, which flick a bit in response at the touch. “My yawne…” Neteyam warns in a low purr, his eyes now watching you closely in attempts to perhaps read your mind on whatever scheme you had conjured, “What are you thinking, little one?”, “Just… testing a quick theory” you whisper semi focused as you try to hide your smirk. The moment your thumb and index fingers shift to lightly pinch his ears, you get a reaction you would never expect from him; a shaky gasp sounds in the air, his muscles tighten beneath you just as his hands move to encompass your backside, holding you impossibly close to him. His ears now hot beneath the pads of your fingers.

Your lips loosen as you finally allow a giggle to break through them, giving another brush of your thumbs along his ears that sends shivers down Neteyam’s spine, delight painting your features while watching his eyes roll and flutter shut, only briefly. Although there is nothing particularly erotic about the rubbing of his ears, the expression and now sudden shift in the rising and falling of his chest, has your mind wandering elsewhere. Swinging a leg over his slim waist and placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself, you peer down at him with a feline smirk, “So the big tough kitty really is sensitive.”. When Neteyam’s eyes meet yours, his pupils are dilated, glazed with a softness you only ever see him give you and yet… you could swear part of that look held some sort of primal challenge. It’s when his large hands snake up your thighs that you understand the meaning of that look, “Perhaps… although aren’t humans more sensitive than na’vi?” He hums, purposely drawing out the words as his fingers purposefully caress your thighs as they make their way up to your hips, his thumbs massaging the divots there with the type of predatory gentleness that makes your pulse quicken. 

“Your skin is much softer… your bodies are squishier…” Neteyam purrs, perhaps more to himself as his amber eyes follow the trailing of his hands whilst they give your hips a gentle squeeze before slowly moving upward, pushing beneath the fabric of your shirt to run his thumbs along your ribs, just under your breasts. His ears perk when the sound of your exo-pack mask enhances the sound of your staggered breathing, pulling the edge of his lips into a smirk, “See?”. You pull back out of his reach crossing your are over your chest defiantly, “What? You expect me not to react when you’re…” Neteyam cocks his head to the side, that same predatory look gleaming in his eyes. You blow out a hot breath in a fleeting attempt to slow your heart rate, momentarily fogging the glass of your mask, “Stop looking at me like that.”. 

Neteyam chuckles, shifting his weight to anchor himself onto his elbows, simultaneously causing you to adjust your own weight as well to stop you from slipping down his abs. The position mimicking that of a lion getting ready to pounce, “And how, tawtute, am I looking at you?”, “Like a cat toying with its meal before devouring it.” You huff out a nervous laugh, noting the way he leans to one side to allow one of his arms free to cup your lower back, his thumb trailing along your spine, his face coming ever so slightly closer to yours, “Is that what my sky dancer wishes? To be devoured?” Not ‘sky person’, but ‘dancer’ because you were not a human fueled by greed or destruction. You were soft, gentle, free spirited, and his. 

Yet as you stammer trying to find the words, Neteyam leans closer until his lips meet with the column of your throat, extinguishing your tongue of any protest or comeback you would’ve conjured and leaving it with only the ability to sigh, leaning into his touch, your fingers instinctually weaving through his braids. His hold on your lower back remains firm as he carefully shifts into a sitting position, his other hand holding the side of your face, to which you have zero hesitation in leaning into the warmth of his palm, presenting more of your neck to him. A low sultry purr answers your gesture in thanks as his lips begin leaving kiss after wet kiss along your throat while his hand at your lower back drifts up your torso, proceeding his conquest in teasing the underside of your breast. Your breath catches for a moment and Neteyam’s lips ascend to your ear, his exhale against it causing you to shiver, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, “Shall we see what noises I can squeeze out of you?” Neteyam whispers, his hand making the shift to finally touch your aching breast, his fingers tracing along its peak before giving it an experimental squeeze to emphasize his words. 

Your lips part as the warmth of his palm encompasses your mound, his calluses pulling at the sensitive skin of your peaked nipple with the motion in a way that has you immediately biting your lip again. A thud sounds from behind Neteyam at the impatient bat of his tail against the ground. While he was no stranger to this song and dance of trying to coax the most delicious sounds from you, it still made him somewhat annoyed when he didn’t get immediate results for his excursions. “How my sky dancer loves to play…” Neteyam murmurs against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips down to the peak of your collarbone, “Play as you like, yawne. I will have you singing soon enough.” he purrs, giving your breast in his hand a more assertive squeeze as his tongue glides back up the column of your throat, the fangs of his bottom jaw dragging slightly, in a way that has your body arching into him in response, finally drawing a sweet, lust coated whimper from your lips. You can feel Neteyam's satisfied smirk against your neck, as well as that same satisfaction forming into a firmness that is now pressing into you as you sit on his lap, “Miklor…”(beautiful sounding). Fuck if hearing him speak his mother tongue didn't instantly turn you into a puddle, then the clenching of your core would definitely do the trick. The growing need to have him impossibly closer, touching every inch of you, filling you, ebbed at the corners of your mind, beckoning desire to the forefront that had you squirming against the hardness that pressed against your clothed ass. The seam of your shorts grinding so deliciously against the thin fabric of his loincloth had Neteyam huffing out a ragged breath that sent a chill down your spine. Neteyam's hand pressed at your lower back, held you firmly against him, whilst the middle finger of his hand that remained under your shirt stroked tight, lazy circles around the perked bud of your breast, his mouth busy with adorning your neck in love bites for you to return to the lab with later, all of it dousing your body in heat, you wouldn't be surprised if the blood in your veins had become molten lava, “Teyam…” you coo, fisting your hands in his braids, a low purr rumbling in his chest at the sound, before using your hold on his braids to urge him back and off your neck, “No more playing,” you whisper breathlessly, wining your hips against him for emphasis, “please.”. He needed no further explanation of your wants, yet his eyes took in your body, possibilities of how this could go painting a string of pictures in his mind, by the hungry look in them. “Stand for me, ma'yawntu. Strip.” The command coming out gentle on his tongue as you watched you rise, his hand drifting behind himself to untie the knot of his loincloth, the minute your skin left his, his eyes never leaving your own for a moment, even as he tossed the flimsy garment to the side, perching to sit on his knees as he gave himself a long and slow stroke. 

You swallowed the excess saliva that had manifested in your mouth at the sight as your hands moved to first remove your top, then your shoes, moving slowly in an effort to give him a good show. As you moved to remove your panties along with your shorts, Neteyam’s “No,” halted your movments, “Leave those for me.”. You obliged him, stepping out of your shorts and walking between his parted knees, Neteyam's hands instinctively reaching up to guide you, resting on your hips, pulling you closer until his lips met with your soft stomach. His thumbs slide over the band of your panties whilst he continue to leave kisses along your belly, his eyes lifting toward your own for only a moment, before his fingers delicately looping around the top of your panties, before pulling them gently down your legs. The scent of your bare arousal was enough to send a shiver through Neteyam’s spine, making his body go rigid, as his eyes rolled back before closing, his teeth nipping lovingly at your stomach that despite his restraint, had you yelping with slight surprise. “You complain a lot about my own playing, when you can't even seem to stop, yourself.” you protest, shifting your hips to avert his attention from your stomach down to the aching between your thighs. You hadn't even registered that one of Neteyam's hands had drifted down your leg, until you felt his calloused fingertips smoothing over your inner thigh, traveling higher and higher until two of them glide through your wet folds, just enough to part them.

Your pulse immediately jumps, your hands anchoring on his shoulders to steady yourself, “Mmn, but it is so fun to watch you squirm, yawne. It delights me to see my mate act so needy for me.” Neteyam purrs, dragging the lubricated fingers over your clit, slowly circling it whilst your hips buck at the touch, the nerves in your thighs demanding to close, which takes nearly every muscle in your body not to obey; to let Neteyam swirl your bundle of nerves and whined the forming knot in your stomach tighter, the mental leash you had on your vocal cords long forgotten, relinquishing sweet music for Neteyam's ears. “Awe, my sweet mate makes such pretty noises… tell me how good it feels, yawne.”. Your mind seems full of static, only being able to process the feeling of his fingers, the tightening in your core, your only response being to chase his fingers by swaying your hips along with him. “Uh- uh… use that pretty voice, love.” he urges, poking at your entrance with his fingertips for extra motivation. You swallow thickly, trying to steady your breathing as to try to make your voice as clear as possible, yet to no avail as your words come out nearly trembling, “It feels so good Teyam, I…I can hardly keep standing like this.”, “Oh?” and with that his fingers submerge themselves into your soaked cunt, scissoring twice to help with the stretch. The sound that breaks from you is like a song from the great mother herself, your fingernails digging into the blue muscles of his shoulder as your hips instinctively move against his hand, “More… more…”, “You want more, yawne? I've hardly started… so greedy.” Neteyam hums not sounding at all upset as his fingers curl against the spongy bit inside of you. “My greedy little sky dancer… I want to watch you dance for me…” he whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear and much to your dismay, Neteyam removes his fingers from within you, a whine that wasn't completely voluntary, following it from your throat.

Your growing pout causes Neteyam to chuckle as he shifts his weight slightly, still resting on his knees, but now sitting on his heels, the back of his hand now placed purposefully atop his thigh, his fingers still glistening with your juices now pointing skyward, “Sit.”. The command was simple enough, but you couldn’t stop the drifting of your eyes to the place between his thighs, where his cock twitched in eagerly. “That is for later, for now…” He curled his fingers in a sort of beckoning motion, “sit.”. You didn't recall how many steps it took until you were straddling Neteyam's thigh and you couldn't find it in you to care at the tips of his fingers brush your folds, his thumb gently swiping over your clit as you lowered yourself onto him, sinking his fingers back home. “Ahh~...” You moan as you sit completely on his thigh, with Neteyam now knuckle deep in your sex. “Mmnh you’re so warm inside, yawne.. so tight. Let us get you ready for more, hm? Dance…” he cooed sweetly, his fingers repeating that beckoning motion inside of you that serves as enough to jumpstart your movements. You grind your hips into his palm, your juices squelching below you with the motion. For a moment you see Neteyam's eyelids flutter, his lips curl back in the slightest of snarls, before settling for a look so heavy with lust it had you swearing under your breath, you nearly thought you'd combust at the sight alone. Sparing a glance between his legs once again, you witnessed the evidence of that look. His cock nearly red at the tip, twitching with each sway of your hips, as if he were imagining it inside of you instead of his fingers. You knew if you were his size, a na'vi, he wouldn't have wasted a second before burying himself in you, but alas, you were a fragile human. A small delicate thing that, despite whatever protests you could throw his way, you know that Neteyam would always take his time with you. “Eyes on me, yawne.” Neteyam says in more of a growl, as if just the sight of you looking at his was shredding his self control, yet before you could so much as lift your gaze- “Haah! Tey-.” he began bouncing his leg, thus you along with it, sending you up and down on his fingers at his will. Your fingernails nearly broke skin as you bounced atop his legs, moaning uncontrollably as he fucked you on his fingers. 

Neteyam's gaze seemed to devour you like a piece of art; watching the each bounce of your breasts, the juices painting his palm and thigh, thrust after thrust how they pooled on his blue skin. It was almost to much, his cock was aching to the point of pain- and then he felt your touch on it's head, not even processing when or how your hand had gone from gripping his shoulder, to rolling his cock head in your palm and… fuck did it feel good. Too good. It was almost too easy to imagine pinning you on the forest floor, lining himself with your cunt and- No, you needed to finish first before he could have you. He needed to be sure you were ready for him. Your body trembled as Neteyam began curling his fingers repeatedly as he continued to bounce his leg, the mixed sensation throwing you into the merciful arms of release as you writhed and shook, mewling out in a hitched voice as you came undone. He continued, slowly the bouncing of his thigh and shifting his curling fingers in the massaging motion, letting you ride out your high. Neteyam huffed a small laugh as your forehead leaned against his chest for support, your breathing heavy and uneven. “You… you play too much, Teyam.”, this prompted another laugh as Neteyam lowered his knee, his free hand snaking from your hip to around your backside, as he carefully lowered you onto the plush grass. Once your back was flush against the ground, Neteyam now leaning over you, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them below pelvis to smear your lingering juices along his shaft, letting out a sigh at the contact, a sound that had your chest tightening. He had been so patient, so gentle, and now you would reward him for his efforts. 

Slowly you spread your legs wide, bringing your knees to your chest, watching as Neteyam continued to give himself a few more pumps to ease the hurt. When his eyes finally lifted to see you spread before him, the sound that came from him was nothing, but primal need. He ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them as he carefully leaned down, bringing your face closer to his own until his forehead rested against yours. Despite the hunger, his amber eyes swam with so much Earth shattering love that you felt you could weep and perhaps it showed in your face, because Neteyam cooed your name so softly and sincerely you almost didn't hear it, before he raised his lips to kiss your hairline, once again mentally cursing the obstruction of your mask that kept him from kissing your lips. When he pulled away, it was only enough to weave a hand between you to guide his cock closer to where you both longed for him to be. At the feel of his tip prodding at your entrance, Neteyam leaned down to place a gentle kiss at your ear, whispering sweet praises as inch by delicious, suffocating, filling inch he pushed into you. The shudder that rippled down his back muscles as your tightness took hold of him, as if it would never let go. “Siltsan, ma’ syulang…” (Well done, my flower). As Neteyam looked up to take in your expression, he found your eyes closed, brows scrunched, but not in pain as you breathed, “I don't think I'll ever get used to that first thrust… thank Eywa.”. 

Neteyam couldn't help, but chuckle before leaning down to bite your earlobe, “Such a dirty mouth on my mate…” he cooed, yet as you were about to retort, Neteyam pulled out slightly before plunging back in, his muscles flexing at the motion. “Ohh…shit…”, the curse natural on his tongue as again he thrusted slowly into you. The fifth time his tip pressed kissed your cervix, Neteyam had to bite back a growl. He was desperate, but he wouldn’t allow himself to throw caution to the wind, not just for your safety, but to savor this feeling for as long as he could. He maneuvered enough to set your legs over his shoulders, his knees spreading wider through the grass as he scooped an arm beneath your shoulders, pressing your front flush against his own seamlessly, like he was trying to get as close to you as possible- to force your bodies to become one and when he rolled his hips again, you rolled yours with him. Neteyam's ears pressed flat against the sides of his head and he let out a soft whimper, he was content to stay like this forever. “Teyam, please…” You begged, rolling your hips before he could move again, giving his cock a loving squeeze with a clench of your inner walls and with it, an invisible tether had broken loose. Neteyam reeled his hips back at the same steady pace he had, but when he drove back in, your body bucked with his. “Fuck! yes… like that… please.” and he did, again and again, faster, harder, until it was all he could do to bring your hips down onto each of his thrusts, driving your back into the grass each time. His lips were in a frenzy on your ears, neck and chest; wherever he could reach, you decorated your skin in wet kisses, nips, and licks and you couldn't find it within you to give a shit about how many marks he was leaving, not when it meant he was putting his claim on you in the most intimate way he could, Your body writhed and bucked beneath him, your legs that had been barking for being in the same position too long, had become an after thought as one ograsm began as another ended. 

Only when Neteyam pulled away, wrapping your legs around his slim waist did you suddenly remember they needed relief, yet the euphoria of it was short lived as you were hauled into his lap, both arms wrapping around you as he somehow drove himself deeper at the new angle. Neteyam buried his face between your neck and shoulder, his grunts and moans lingering in your ear. He was close, the breathless whines that new fell from his lips indicated as much. So close you could feel the restraint in his thrusts, where one moment he pistoned into you, filling the space around you with wet slapping, the next he held your pelvis flush against his own as he ground himself into you. Your brows furrowed through your mask as his whines became more pitched, desperate you realized, like the finish line was nearly there, yet somehow out of reach. So you did what you could, clinging to him and whispering in his ear between moans, “I love you.”, “I love you.”, “My mate.”, “Mine.”, it was the last two words that clanged through him like a burst of energy as Neteyam gave a few rough thrusts, bringing your body to meet them each time, that he finally went over the edge, spilling as much of his seed as he could into you before it began to spill where you were still connected. 

The moment he stilled inside of you, you both let out a sigh in unison, your bodies drenched with sweat, skin hot and sticky to the touch. It was when you each pulled back to look at each other that Neteyam’s eyes widened, taking in your body before him. “What? What's wrong?” You immediately ask, following his gaze, but that was all the proof you needed. From what you could see, your chest was littered with redish-purple spots, which you could only assume were on your neck as well, and then the embarrassment of having to walk into the lab like this hit. Neteyam merely laughed, trying as gentle as possible to lay you back down on the grass, withdrawing himself from you before laying on his side beside you. “You say my stripes are pretty, but I must say… I do find spots to be a good look on you.” then you laughed with him only after feining disapproval at his joke, giving his shoulder a playful shove before snuggling into his warmth.

Even rereading this story I'm super proud with how it turned out. I hope it holds up to everyone who read it previously and that new readers enjoy it as well.♡

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[castielscaplan]

Future Holds Me (billy hargrove)

Summary: You and Billy get interrupted by Max and Eleven.

Warnings: Fluff

WC: 1K

requested: by @fandom-princess-forevermore my beloved <3\\ You asked about domestic fluff for Billy Hargrove. It's simple for me: Billy and his girlfriend are enjoying some quiet, intimate time when Max and Eleven interrupt to talk boys or other stuff. They all bond, and when she returns to Billy, the subject of kids is brought up, and she pictures Billy as a cute girl dad.

Read on A03!

--

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Billy’s bedroom, casting a warm light across the quiet space. You and Billy were tangled up on the bed, limbs intertwined as you lay in the comfortable silence. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm while you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“This is nice,” you murmured, tilting your head to look up at him. His lips curled into a rare, soft smile, his usual cocky demeanor melted away in the comfort of your closeness.

“Yeah, it is,” Billy replied, his voice low and husky. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. Moments like this were rare, where he let his guard down completely, and you treasured them.

Before you could lose yourself completely in the moment, the door to Billy’s room swung open without warning. Startled, you both sat up, your peaceful bubble instantly burst by the two girls standing in the doorway—Max and Eleven.

"Hey!" Max greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the intimate moment she’d just interrupted. Eleven gave a small wave, her expression more reserved but curious as ever.

Billy groaned, flopping back onto the pillows with a dramatic sigh. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t you two go bother someone else?”

Max ignored him completely, her attention already focused on you. “We were looking for you!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “We wanted to talk about boys.”

“Yeah, boys,” Eleven chimed in with a small smile, though her understanding of the subject was still a bit limited.

You laughed, sitting up a bit straighter. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’ve come to the right person.”

Billy rolled his eyes and sat up, clearly irritated at being interrupted. “You’re really going to leave me for this?” he asked, half-joking but with an edge of genuine annoyance.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. He grumbled something under his breath but let you go.

You followed Max and Eleven out of the room and into the living room, where the three of you plopped down on the couch. The conversation flowed easily, with Max teasing you about Billy and Eleven asking curious questions about relationships. It was fun, bonding with the girls, and you could feel the sisterly affection Max had for you, especially now that she trusted you with her brother.

“Do you think Billy’s…good boyfriend material?” Max asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow as if genuinely unsure. Eleven’s eyes widened with interest.

You chuckled, thinking about how soft and gentle Billy could be when it was just the two of you. “He’s a lot better than he seems,” you admitted. “He just doesn’t show that side of himself to everyone.”

Max made a face, clearly not convinced. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Eventually, the conversation shifted from boys to other things, and by the time you were ready to head back to Billy, you felt a deeper connection to the two girls. They waved you off, satisfied with their bonding session, and you made your way back to Billy’s room, where he was sprawled out on the bed, looking impatient.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled as you crawled back into bed beside him.

“Sorry, we got distracted,” you said, snuggling up next to him again. “They’re really sweet.”

Billy sighed, wrapping his arm around you again, though this time there was something more thoughtful about his expression. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You’re good with them,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t want to admit it. “With Max. And even with El. I’m not really…good at that kind of thing.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. “You could be,” you said gently. “You’re good when you try. Max looks up to you, even if she doesn’t show it.”

Billy’s expression softened, his blue eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Sometimes I think maybe I wouldn’t be so bad at that…you know, having kids.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had never talked about the future like this, not seriously. But now that he’d brought it up, you couldn’t help but imagine it — Billy as a dad, maybe even a girl dad. You could picture him with a little girl on his shoulders, her giggles filling the air as he pretended to be annoyed but secretly loving every second of it.

“You’d be cute as a girl dad,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Billy looked at you like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “A girl dad?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning now. “You’d be overprotective and teach her how to stand up for herself. She’d wrap you around her little finger, and you’d let her get away with everything.”

He snorted, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you teased, imagining a little girl with his blonde curls and piercing blue eyes, running around causing trouble just like him. “She’d be your mini-me.”

Billy’s smirk faded a little as he considered it, his expression growing serious. “I don’t know if I’d be good at it. I never had a good example, you know?”

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand. “You’d be better than you think, Billy. You’ve got a good heart, even if you don’t show it to everyone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were soft, filled with an emotion you rarely saw from him. “Maybe,” he murmured. “One day.”

“One day,” you echoed, your heart swelling with the thought of a future you hadn’t fully considered until now.

Billy smiled at you, a real smile this time, before pulling you closer. “Guess we’ll see.”

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, you couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, Billy could be the dad you pictured him as — protective, loving, and better than he ever gave himself credit for.

[purplereina11]

In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 13 Other Parts

Word Count: 9k

⚠️ This one needs a warning!

⚽️

The sun was high over the training pitches, warmth clinging to your shoulders as the session rolled on, and you were buzzing. The last few drills had gone really well, and now the coaching staff had called for a seven-a-side game to finish off the morning. You cracked your neck and jogged over to the half-pitch with your teammates, already exchanging smirks and light taps to the arm with the girls you’d spent the past week getting to know.

You ended up on a team with Mapi, Caro, and a few of the other non-internationals, and it clicked. Not in that lucky kind of way but that familiar, natural rhythm of people who’d already done the work to learn each other.

You’d barely been on the pitch five minutes before Caro dropped into the space behind, yelling, “Turn!” and you did without looking, catching her return ball and sliding it clean between two defenders.

“Ohh, yes!” Mapi whooped, chasing it down with the kind of grin she only got when football was easy.

Every touch you had felt assured, light when it needed to be, powerful when it mattered. Your communication was short and sharp, your vision feeding into the patterns like you'd been here years instead of days. Even the staff on the sidelines were nodding, murmuring to each other. One of them whistled low when you flicked a pass over a press to Caro on the wing.

“Look at that chemistry,” someone muttered behind you might’ve been one of the analysts, clipboard in hand.

You scored twice. One from a classic cut-and-finish combo with Mapi that had her miming a crown as you jogged towards her, and another from intercepting a lazy back pass and coolly nutmegging Ellie with zero apology. You laughed as your team pulled you into a group hug.

Across the pitch, Alexia had been subbed in for the opposing team late in the game, and though you hadn’t properly faced off yet, different flanks, different flow, you felt her awareness like a magnetic pull. As the final whistle blew and the players started peeling off for stretches and water, Irene jogged past you, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Nice to see someone making friends already.”

Mapi clapped you on the back with a grin. “You keep playing like that, some of us are gonna start wondering if you’ve secretly been here the whole time.”

You laughed, brushing sweat from your forehead. “Hey, I’ve got to keep up with you lot. Some of us are still learning Spanish.”

“You’re learning fast,” Mapi said, then added with a smirk, “especially if that’s how you communicate with your feet.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Alexia untie her boots slowly, her gaze flicking toward your group before dropping again. You didn’t need her to say anything, the look of approval you caught she gave one of the girls was enough.

The bottle creaked slightly in your hand as you swallowed the last of the water, the sun already drying the sweat from your brow as fast as it fell. Alexia stood close, closer than she needed to be, her voice low and smooth in Spanish as she chatted with Mapi and Patri nearby. You weren’t sure if it was intentional, her speaking that softly around you, but her shoulder was almost brushing yours. You could feel her presence, heavy but comforting.

You gave her a brief glance, a half-smile tugging at the corner of your lips, before turning your attention back to the water bottle. That’s when you noticed the tension.

Ellie’s gaze had gone sharp, focused past you. Her posture stiffened like a thread pulled taut.

You turned, instinctively following her line of sight two men in dark suits crossing the pitch, and with them, Pere. His expression was unreadable, but the nod he gave in your direction was clear, he wanted to speak to you.

Your heart gave a hard knock against your ribs.

Ellie was already stepping toward you, voice low but urgent. “What do they want?.”

You stared for a second, your stomach dropping with a slow, sickening certainty. “Never good news when they come to you,” you said quietly, your voice flatter than you intended.

Ellie’s face didn’t shift much, but her hand gripped your arm gently, grounding. “You don’t know that,” she said steady and controlled, but you could hear the worry tightening the edges of her words.

You gave her a look, the kind that said maybe I don’t know, but I’ve lived long enough to guess, and turned your gaze to Pere. He was still standing by them, waiting. The walk felt endless.

Every step toward them, every meter closer, stretched out in your chest like you were counting down seconds you couldn’t afford to lose. You weren’t scared, not exactly. Not yet, but you were alert now, burning with the knowledge that this wasn’t routine. You could feel the attention shift behind you, conversations slowing, players turning their heads, whispers beginning to ripple.

You reached them just as one of the officers extended a hand.

"Detective Inspector Moore," the taller one said. "This is DS Palmer. We're with the Met. Thank you for coming over, I know this is probably confusing for you"

You shook their hands, first Moore's, then Palmer's, your grip automatic, rehearsed. Your eyes darted to Pere, who gave you a subtle nod of support, but his silence was telling. You’d seen that kind of restraint before. This wasn’t a you're in trouble. This was delivery of news and your brain was going wild with possibilities.

Moore's voice softened as he continued. “There’s no easy way to say this. We received a welfare call this morning in London. Your mother and sister were found in their home.” Your stomach clenched. The words didn’t compute. You opened your mouth, but no sound came. "Unfortunately they had passed"

Palmer stepped in, quietly but firmly, “From initial findings we believe it was a murder-suicide.” The world shifted.

Everything around you the pitch, the sun, even the steady murmur of Spanish conversation from your teammates in the distance flattened into a dull, surreal silence. Your breath stuck somewhere in your chest, shallow and sharp. You blinked at them. “I’m sorry. What—?”

Moore hesitated. “We’re still gathering details, but from the initial scene, it appears your mother took Amy's life.. then her own. They both… had been deceased for some time when authorities arrived. The timeline is still being pieced together.”

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

Pere’s hand hovered lightly on your shoulder, like he didn’t want to spook you but also didn’t want you to fall. Your voice came out cracked. “Why? Why would she—?”

“That's what we're going to look into, as to why” Palmer said gently. “There was a note. But it’s not… clear. We’re working with the detectives and will keep you updated. You don’t have to do anything right now. We’ll handle things, but we needed to inform you directly.”

You nodded, or you thought you did. The motion didn’t feel real. All that was real was the sudden, cruel void where your family used to be.

Pere nodded quietly to the officers as they left, his expression unreadable but respectful. The second they were back inside the facility, the silence they left in their wake felt deafening.

You hadn’t moved, still standing there. Still holding it together like you were about to walk back onto the pitch and finish the session like everything was normal. Pere stepped closer, his voice gentle but full of the kind of sincerity that breaks your defences. “Are you okay?”

Your eyes stayed fixed on the grass for a beat too long. “I’m going to be sick,” you murmured.

You crouched, arms braced on your knees, the world tilting not from dizziness, but from the weight of the words you’d just heard. Your stomach churned, your throat tightened like it wanted to reject something that wasn’t there, but the nausea passed. The ache didn’t.

You fell back until you were flat on the ground, the turf cool against your spine. You raised your hands to your face, pressing them hard against your eyes like you could stop everything from spilling out, the disbelief, the guilt, the unbearable loss.

Then it hit you. Your chest seized as the first sob tore free, raw and sharp, echoing louder than you expected. It cracked through the quiet air, shattering whatever fragile composure you had left.

You cried, not silent, polite tears these were guttural, broken sounds, your hands still covering your face, as if hiding could protect you. You could feel someone nearby Pere, maybe but they didn’t say anything. They didn’t try to hush you or offer solutions. They just stayed there. Letting it happen, letting you fall apart, because how could you not? How could anyone survive news like that and remain upright?

The sobs kept coming because you didn’t know what else to do, because you couldn’t begin to understand why, because they were gone, because your sister was gone, because your mum had done this, because everything in you was fracturing and none of it made sense.

Pere had always carried a calm authority, the kind that didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard. So when he asked the players to step away, they didn’t question it they followed, murmurs and concerned glances exchanged between them as he led them toward the opposite end of the pitch.

He left you in the shade, surrounded by a few of the women on the coaching staff, who sat quietly close but didn’t crowd you. One gently rested a hand on your shoulder, grounding, quiet. The air was heavy, each second stretching as if the world had slowed to accommodate the ache tearing through your chest.

From across the field, Alexia watched Pere’s face as he spoke, she didn’t need to hear every word.

She saw it on his face the grief that wasn’t his but still settled in the corners of his eyes. She felt it like a punch to the chest as the players around her inhaled sharply, Marta covering her mouth, Irene’s brows furrowed as she whispered something stunned.

Then Pere said your name and Alexia didn’t wait. She didn’t care that the team was watching, didn’t care that there had never been a conversation about what this was between you. All she knew was that you were hurting and she wasn’t going to stand still while you suffered alone.

She broke into a run her boots thudding against the grass, her breath caught somewhere between urgency and heartbreak.

You didn’t see her at first, still flat on your back, eyes red and distant, but you felt her presence, warm and fierce, and when her shadow fell over you, your hands slowly fell away from your face.

Alexia dropped to her knees beside you without a word. Her expression was stricken, heart in her throat, and she didn’t ask for permission she just reached for you. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders, and your face buried into her neck sitting you up so she could hold you, another broken sob tearing from your throat.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, even though it wasn’t. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You gripped the back of her training top, clinging like she was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

The rest of the pitch disappeared the players, the coaching staff, the day, the sky everything faded until it was just her holding you. Alexia, who didn’t care who saw now. Alexia, whose quiet strength you let in fully for the first time. Her hands moved slowly, reassuringly over your back as you wept.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, over and over, against your hair.

You couldn’t say anything back. Not yet, but her being there, not letting go it mattered more than anything else in the world in that moment.

Ellie stood a few paces away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if it might hold her together. Her jaw was clenched, eyes locked on you and Alexia, on the way Alexia held you like you were something breakable and sacred all at once.

She hadn’t moved, hadn’t stepped in. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she knew you needed something different right now, someone who could carry the weight in a way Ellie, even as your closest friend, sometimes couldn’t. Alexia was already there. Already steady and Ellie trusted her with you.

Still, the lump in her throat wouldn’t go away.

Kika came up beside her quietly, catching the tremble in Ellie’s shoulders before slipping an arm around her. “Hey,” she said softly, drawing Ellie into a hug without asking. Ellie didn’t resist. “She’s strong,” Kika said, voice careful. “But this… this is different.”

Ellie exhaled hard, finally letting her forehead rest against Kika’s shoulder. “I can’t understand it,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Her mum was so kind. Gentle. Always checking in on us, she was so loving, caring, it's just so out of character.”

Kika nodded, her hand rubbing slow circles between Ellie’s shoulder blades. “No one would see this coming. Not this.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Ellie said, frustration and grief tangled in her tone. “It’s not who she was.”

“No,” Kika spoke. “But right now, Y/N doesn’t need sense. She just needs us.”

Ellie swallowed hard and nodded. “She’s got Alexia.”

“She’s got all of us,” Kika said. “We’ll hold her up. Together.”

⚽️

Irene had never raised her voice in that locker room unless she absolutely had to but when she did, it cut through the noise like a blade.

The murmurs had started subtly. A few of the younger players whispering in hushed Spanish, wondering about what they saw how Alexia hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t cared who saw, when she sprinted across the pitch to cradle you like the world had ended. They weren’t being cruel, not intentionally, but grief makes people strange, makes them focus on the wrong things when they don’t know how to sit with silence, don't know what to say or behave for the best.

“So are they dating?” one of them said, too curious, not cruel, just careless.

Before anyone else could breathe a response, Irene turned from where she’d been untying her boots, her voice clear and sharp, “Enough.”

The room went quiet, the kind of stillness that settles when a real leader speaks.

“Now is not the time to speculate or gossip about someone’s personal life,” she said, looking each of them in the eye. “She’s just had her entire world torn apart. If the first thing you’re thinking about is who’s holding her through that, then you need to check your priorities.”

There was no bite to her tone just disappointment and that always stung more.

“She doesn’t need whispers. She needs space. She needs care and if any of you consider yourselves her teammates, you’ll give her exactly that.”

Mapi, standing nearby, nodded in firm agreement, arms crossed tightly. “What she needs right now is to know this club is home. End of.”

A quiet murmur of agreement followed. Heads bowed. Eyes averted. Irene exhaled and softened just slightly. “We protect our own. Remember that.” And in the silence that followed, every player knew it wasn’t just a warning it was a promise. You may not of been here long at all but you were apart of there team and they had you.

Alexia appeared in the doorway of the locker room, quiet but composed, her eyes landing on Ellie with a subtle nod. “She wants to go home,” she said gently, her voice steady but worn at the edges. “Can you take her?”

Ellie immediately stood, not needing to ask why. “Of course,” she said, grabbing her own bag before walking to yours. “Is she okay?”

Alexia didn’t answer that. There wasn’t an answer that would make sense anyway. Instead, she added, “I’ll come by later. I promised my mami I’d help her with something first.”

Ellie glanced at her as she pulled your kit bag open and dug around for the keys. “Sure,” she said quietly, finding them. She held them out to Alexia for a second before Alexia took them slipping them into her own pocket. “Let yourself in whenever you come.”

Alexia nodded once, her mouth twitching into something like a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Ellie.”

Ellie gave her a tight smile in return and started toward the door. “She’s got me,” she said over her shoulder, firm and certain. “I’ll get her home.”

Alexia lingered a moment in the doorway, watching her go, then turned and headed to her cubicle her steps slower now, heavier, carrying more than just her own weight.

⚽️

Ellie unlocks the door and gently guides you inside, one hand at your back as if she's afraid you might collapse under the weight of it all. You say nothing as you step through the apartment, Teddy padding beside you, his tail low but still faithful, watching you like he knows something’s wrong.

You head straight to your room, numbly pulling the door closed behind you. The world outside it becomes something distant and dull. You collapse onto the bed fully clothed, the sheets cool and uninviting until your fingers brush something familiar—Alexia's hoodie, tucked between your pillows where she must've left it the last time she stayed over.

You tug it over your head without thinking, the scent of her hitting you like a soft wave. You curl into the hoodie and your duvet, burying yourself deep, pressing your face against the fabric. Teddy jumps up beside you, curling himself close to your side, resting his head across your legs like an anchor.

There’s a quiet knock on the door. Ellie’s voice follows, soft and cautious. “You need anything?”

Your voice is muffled in the quilt when you answer, “Can you… can you let the England girls know?”

“Of course,” she says, no hesitation.

“Gee will tell the Bayern girls,” you add, still not looking up. “I don’t want them to find out online.”

Ellie nods, even though you can’t see it. “I’ve got it. I’ll get in touch now. Don’t worry, yeah? I’ll make sure everyone hears it from me.”

There’s a beat of silence, then your voice again, quieter now. “Thanks, El.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” She pauses. “Just rest, okay? I’ll keep my phone on. You need anything I’m here.”

You don’t reply, but you don’t have to. The rustle of the duvet as you curl deeper, the soft, slow breaths and Teddy’s warmth against you Ellie hears enough in that. She pulls your door mostly closed but leaves it open a crack.

Ellie stands just outside your door, phone in hand, her thumb hesitating over the screen for a second before she presses the video call icon for the Lionesses group chat. They all know something’s up the group chat is sacred, rarely used for anything more than chaos, banter, memes. A video call? That never happens, not unless it’s serious.

Within seconds, names and faces pop up. Leah answers first, her brows already furrowed. Then Leah, Millie, Alessia who's with Ella, Keira. Georgia's icon spins before she joins, half-laughing until she sees Ellie’s face.

“What’s going on?” Leah asks, tone sharp and instantly alert.

“You okay?” adds Millie.

Ellie swallows. She looks tired, worried, like she's been holding it together just for you. “It’s about Y/N.”

The silence is instant and heavy.

“She’s okay physically,” Ellie clarifies quickly, but her voice cracks a little at the end. “But… something’s happened.”

Georgia goes pale. “What happened?”

Ellie takes a breath, one hand gripping the kitchen counter behind her like it’s holding her up. “This morning at training… police came—” She stops. Blinks. “Her mum and sister were found dead in there home”

The air leaves the group, Keira mutters, “No…”

Georgia’s camera tilts like she’s had to sit down. Alessia covers her mouth. Leah looks frozen. Millie curses quietly under her breath.

“No, no, no,” Georgia whispers, shaking her head. “Her mum? Her sister?”

Ellie nods. “She's back here now. She went straight to bed. I… I just thought you should all know before it leaks. Gee, can you—can you tell the Bayern girls? Y/N didn’t want them to hear it from the press.”

Georgia’s voice is thick with emotion, but she nods. “Of course. I’ll call them now.”

"Why would it be in the press?" Ella asked

"That tends to happen when a celebrity has something like that happen"

Ellie sighed rubbing her hand down her face, "It gets worse" she muttered, "They've not finished investigating, but they think her mum did it. There was a note, they think her mum killed Amy then killed herself"

The silence was deafening no one knew what to say, what would you say in that instance, words just weren't enough to describe the pain and confusion.

Leah leans in closer to her screen. “Does she need anything? Anything we can do?”

“She’s just… numb right now,” Ellie says. “I think messages would help. Not pressure, just… love. Let her know she’s not alone.”

“We’ve got her,” Alessia says softly. “She’s family, she's always been a big sister to me.”

Ellie gives a small nod, brushing under her eye. “Thanks, guys. I’ll keep you updated. Just… make sure the girls that didn't answer here from us ok?.”

As the call ends one by one, the grief settles in shared silence.

The world might keep turning, but in that little apartment in Barcelona, a corner of it has stopped. And her people, wherever they are, are already forming the safety net.

⚽️

You wake slowly, head pounding lightly from the weight of sleep and grief, the light in the room dim. There's a warm hand brushing against your arm and a voice soft, familiar, gentle.

“Coco,” Alexia whispers. “Come on, cariño… you should eat something.”

Your eyes crack open, and she’s there, crouched beside the bed in a hoodie and leggings, her hand smoothing lightly over your arm. “My mami cooked,” she adds. “Just for you.”

You don’t speak at first, only nod, shifting beneath the covers as Teddy lifts his head from where he’d been curled next to you. It’s strange feeling so hollow and so full of ache at the same time.

Alexia helps you sit up, slow and careful like you might break.

When you emerge from the bedroom, the apartment is quiet but full. Ellie catches your eye first, offering a small, reassuring smile from the kitchen. Around her, Irene, Ingrid, Marta, Caro, and Mapi are gently setting out plates and bowls, the smell of home-cooked food warm in the air. No one speaks loud, no one forces a smile or makes a fuss. They just… exist with you.

It’s the kindest thing anyone could’ve done.

You sit between Alexia and Ellie, and a plate is placed in front of you. You don’t ask what it is you don’t need to. The first bite hits your tongue, and the warmth rushes through you like something you hadn’t known you were desperate for.

You swallow hard, emotion bubbling in your chest. “This is… this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Ingrid, across the table, smiles softly. “Eli is a good cook, isn’t she?”

You nod, throat tight. “Amazing.”

“She made enough for an army,” Irene murmurs, pushing another dish toward you.

“We told her you wouldn’t eat,” Alexia adds, nudging your knee with hers gently under the table. “She said then we’d eat until you did.”

You manage a small smile through the heaviness, tears burning quietly at the corners of your eyes. They don’t try to stop them. They just sit with you while you eat. While you grieve. While you exist in whatever shape you're in right now.

Marta clears her throat after a few moments of quiet, clearly trying to fill the silence with something, anything, that doesn’t feel so heavy. “So… training today,” she starts, a wry tone in her voice. “Ingrid nearly took Kika’s head off with that shot in rondos. Ball flew so fast I think it broke the sound barrier.”

Ingrid gives a mock shrug, totally deadpan. “She talks too much. I aimed with love.”

The others chuckle gently, and even you let out a soft breath of a laugh, the kind that doesn't come easy today, but finds its way through anyway.

Mapi leans across the table, eyes twinkling. “You should’ve seen Kika’s face. I’ve never seen anyone duck with their soul before.”

That earns a real, small chuckle from you quiet, but it’s there. You glance at her, your expression soft but grateful, and Mapi throws you a wink like she’s proud of herself for cracking through even a sliver.

Alexia, seated so close you can feel the warmth of her, notices it too. Her hand shifts beneath the table, finding your thigh and squeezing it gently. You glance over at her, and she meets your eyes, just a slight tilt of her head asking if you're ok without asking.

You nod, slow but certain. It’s not a lie. You’re not okay but you’re breathing, you’re here, you’re not alone so you kind of are in a weird way. She smiles faintly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, her hand still a quiet weight on your leg. “Keep eating, cariño.”

You smile against the edge of your fork as you look down at your plate. “Bit hard that, Putellas,” you murmur, “with you attached to my face.”

A few people hear it, and there are muffled snorts and laughter around the table. Alexia laughs too, leaning away with exaggerated innocence. “Lo siento, mi amor. I’ll try to keep my affection less… obstructive.”

Mapi snorts. “Doubt.”

Caro chimes in with a grin, “Yeah, okay. Sure. We’ll all hold our breath on that one.” But you just smile again, and this time it reaches your eyes. It’s not light, not yet but it’s real.

And for tonight, that’s enough.

⚽️

It had been a strange sort of evening, gentle and warm despite everything, like the world around you had softened to let you grieve without tipping over. You were curled up on the couch with Teddy's head on your lap, Alexia's hands on your legs as they were thrown over her, the murmur of soft conversation filling the background. Laughter still occasionally slipped through the group in quiet waves, the kind that doesn’t chase sadness away, but makes space beside it.

Then the doorbell rang, and Ellie got up to answer it. A minute later, Irene’s voice came from the hallway, followed by the soft patter of tiny feet.

“¿Dónde está coco?” Mateo asked urgently, his voice high and determined.

You looked up just as he ran into the room, a small, crumpled bouquet of handpicked flowers clutched in his fist wild little things from someone’s garden, half-stemmed and mismatched.

He beamed at you, his curls bouncing as he proudly declared, “Mami said you’re sad, so I brought you flowers.”

The room hushed around you. You stood slowly, crouching down to his level, heart clenching as you took in the proud little face and his tiny clenched hand holding the flowers like a priceless treasure.

"I love them, thank you so much, can I have a cuddle?” you asked softly, voice catching.

He didn’t say a word. He just launched himself into you, wrapping his little arms around your neck and holding you so tight it nearly knocked the air from your lungs, his little eyes crinkling from his attempt at squeezing you as tight as he could.

You closed your eyes as you hugged him back, burying your face in his shoulder, holding onto him like he was anchoring you to the floor and in some strange way, he was.

The flowers ended up slightly crushed between you, but you didn’t let go.

Alexia, now standing a few feet away, had a hand pressed to her mouth. You didn’t see the way her eyes shimmered, or the look she shared with Irene quiet, knowing, heartbreakingly fond.

Mateo pulled back just slightly, reaching up with his little hand to smooth your hair. “You feel better now?”

You nodded, “Much better. Thank you.”

He smiled like it was the most important job he’d ever had. And in that moment, maybe it was.

Irene’s wife, Lucia, stepped forward without a word and wrapped you in a big, grounding hug the kind that told you she didn’t need to say anything, didn’t expect you to be okay or strong or anything at all. She was just there. Present. Solid. You melted into it, hugging her back with a gratitude that lodged like a lump in your throat.

When she pulled away, her hands lingered on your waist, eyes scanning your face with the quiet kindness that had been surrounding you all evening. “We're here for whatever you need,” she said gently.

You nodded, eyes stinging again. “Thank you”

As Lucia stepped aside, Mateo had made himself right at home again scrambling up onto the sofa where Alexia was perched, climbing without hesitation into her lap like he’d done it a hundred times before.

He leaned in close to her ear, cupping his hands like he was telling her a secret. “I made it all better,” he whispered, utterly confident.

Alexia smiled, eyes warm as she brushed a curl from his forehead. “Good job, buddy,” she whispered back, kissing the top of his head. “You really did.”

Mateo grinned, beaming at her praise before turning to look across the room at you. “Told you I could fix it.”

You gave him the softest smile, voice thick with affection. “You’re magic, Mateo.”

He nodded, satisfied, and leaned back against Alexia’s chest like he’d just completed a royal mission.

Alexia looked up and met your gaze over the top of his head, something unspoken passing between you. Love. Gratitude and a sadness neither of you had words for. She mouthed, You okay?

You nodded slowly. Not okay, but not alone and for now, that was enough.

⚽️

You were lying there, numb and motionless, eyes open in the dark but seeing nothing. The weight of the day pressed into your chest like it was trying to anchor you to the mattress. Grief moved through your body like fog heavy, slow, inescapable.

The sound of the en-suite door opening stirred you slightly, the soft shuffle of Alexia’s bare feet against the floorboards. You didn’t move, didn’t say anything as she slid into bed beside you. You shifted instinctively, turning to your side to reach for her, to be the big spoon like always, but before you could settle into the familiar, she stopped you gently. Her hand pressed softly to your hip. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

You paused, confused, trying to read her in the dark. “I was just—”

“Turn around,” she said, a softness in her tone that left no room for argument.

You blinked, slow. “You want to—?”

“Tonight,” she murmured, “I hold you.” And just like that, the ache in your chest cracked open again. You swallowed hard, breath catching in your throat as you turned, slowly, facing away from her.

She wrapped around you without hesitation arms strong and warm around your middle, her chest against your back, her knees tucked behind yours. Her hand found yours and threaded your fingers together, her thumb tracing slow, soothing lines against your skin.

“You don’t have to be the strong one right now,” she said quietly. “Not with me.”

Your eyes welled. No one had said that today. Not once. You gave the smallest nod, your voice barely audible. “Okay.”

Alexia pressed a kiss into the space behind your ear. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time since the world had turned upside down, you let yourself really cry. Quiet, broken sobs that shook your shoulders and she held you through every one of them, arms tight around you like she was holding you together when you couldn’t do it yourself.

⚽️

The early morning air was still cool, the sky just beginning to flush with the first gentle streaks of sunrise. Jonny trotted obediently beside you, while Teddy sniffed along every lamp post like it was his life's mission. The quiet hum of the city waking up was oddly comforting, a contrast to the turbulence inside you.

You’d left a softly snoring Alexia wrapped in the duvet, brushing your lips to her forehead before slipping out. You didn’t even know if you could explain why you needed to move, to breathe, to be outside. You just did.

You were halfway down the block when you heard it “Coco!”

Your head snapped up instinctively at the nickname, and there he was Mateo his little legs dangling off the bench as he sat beside Lucia, who was holding a coffee and smiling like she’d seen the whole thing unfold.

He waved enthusiastically. “I saw Teddy and Jonny! And you!”

You smiled, the first proper one of the morning, and started walking toward them. “Good morning,” Lucia greeted as you approached, her tone as warm and steady as always. “Someone insisted he’d spotted you and wouldn’t stop wriggling until I came down with him to wait for you.”

“I have good eyes,” Mateo declared proudly, sliding off the bench and running to your side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I can tell,” you said, giving him a ruffle on the head. “Want to help me finish walking the dogs before school?”

“Yes!” he shouted immediately, already reaching for Teddy’s leash.

Lucia stood, pressing a quick kiss to her son’s head. "Are you sure?”

“Of course,” you nodded.

Mateo fell into step beside you like he’d always been there. “Teddy’s ears are soft,” he announced after a moment, completely serious.

“They’re the best ears,” you agreed, smiling down at him.

He looked up at you. “You looked sad yesterday.”

Your throat tightened, but you nodded slowly. “Yeah, I was.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then “My mami says sad things happen to good people sometimes and she doesn't think it's fair.”

You blinked hard and looked away before your voice could betray you. “She’s very wise.”

“She said you’re strong, too.”

That made you pause. You crouched slightly, resting your forearm gently across Mateo’s small shoulders. “Thanks, buddy. I think you might be the smartest person I know.”

He grinned like you’d given him a trophy. “I know.”

And so you kept walking, just a small figure beside you holding onto Teddy’s leash with pride, Jonny ambling along ahead, and the sun slowly warming the quiet morning around you light spilling out into the world again, even when your heart still ached.

You soon came across a little cafe, and you couldn't help yourself, "Would you like to stop and get a milkshake?" Mateo grinned from ear to ear at the offer nodding profusely it wasn't long until you got seated.

Mateo swung his little legs under the table, completely enthralled with his chocolate milkshake, the corners of his mouth stained with the remnants of whipped cream. He was halfway through a story, something about a superhero made entirely of jelly he wanted for his birthday next week, while you picked at a croissant and sipped your coffee, content just listening.

The café was quiet at this hour, the hum of early regulars and clinking mugs a soft backdrop to Mateo’s animated voice. The barista had brought out a little paper crown for him after he told her it was “a very special day because I’m with my Coco,” and he wore it with pride.

“You’ve got chocolate on your nose,” you told him, smiling over the rim of your cup.

He looked down, crossed his eyes, then wiped his entire face with a napkin. “Did I get it?”

“Not even close,” you laughed, leaning over with another napkin to clean him up properly.

He beamed at you afterward, mouth full of the last bite of his pastry. “Best breakfast ever.”

You smiled, but as you glanced at your watch, your brow furrowed slightly. “Speaking of best I best get you home, little man, or you’re going to be late for school.”

He looked disappointed for a split second, then perked up again. “Can we walk past the bakery with the dog in the window?”

You laughed quietly. “Only if you promise to not bark at him.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, hopping down from the chair and brushing the crumbs off his trousers with the seriousness of someone headed into battle.

You pulled a few bills from your pocket to leave on the table and stood, giving him your hand. He took it without hesitation, squeezing like always.

“Think your teacher will believe you had a milkshake before school?” you teased.

“She better,” he grinned. “I have evidence.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Evidence?”

He turned and pointed confidently to the chocolate on his crown. “Look. Proof.”

You snorted out a laugh and gently nudged him forward. “Alright, Super Sleuth. Let’s get you home.” And off you went, the little crown bobbing beside you, your fingers tightly intertwined with his, the sunrise now fully awake and for a moment, so were you.

Mateo barely noticed Irene as she stepped out of the building, too busy balancing on the curb and pretending it was a pirate ship. Irene raised an eyebrow, coffee in hand, smiling when she saw you.

“Oh, here he is,” she said, eyes flicking to Mateo. “And where’ve you been dragging Coco around to, mister?”

Mateo grinned, puffing his chest out proudly. “We had chocolate milkshake for breakfast!”

You gave a sheepish smile. “That’s on me. He was such a good boy on the walk, figured he deserved a little treat.”

Lucia gave her son a knowing look. “And what do we say when someone’s kind to us?”

Mateo turned and hugged you around the waist, muffled but sincere. “Thank you, Coco.”

You smiled, stroking his hair. “Anytime, buddy.”

"Come on mister, let's go get ready for school" Mateo rushed in the house Lucia followed behind not before saying “Make sure you find out how much we owe her for breakfast.” to Irene

You were already shaking your head. “Don’t even think about it. It was my treat.”

Irene gave you a warm but tired look. “You’ve got enough to carry without paying for other people’s kids.”

You just shrugged gently. “He made it a little lighter this morning.”

Irene stepped forward, gently placing a hand on your arm. “And you? How are you doing?”

Your mouth opened to answer, but all that came was a quiet, “Numb. Doesn’t feel real.”

Irene nodded slowly, understanding in her eyes. She gave your arm a soft squeeze, “Ale knows you're here,” she said casually, sipping her coffee.

You frowned faintly. “How?”

She smirked, motioning toward the furry pair at your feet. “Because the dogs are gone. She noticed the moment she woke up, she rang because she knows your route takes you past here wanted to know if I'd saw you, I told her you'd borrowed our son”

You huffed a laugh under your breath. “She worried?”

“Not about you being in danger,” Irene said, tilting her head. “But about how long you’ve been gone? Yeah. She is. You slipped out without a word.”

You nodded, eyes falling to the pavement. “Needed air. Quiet.”

Irene bumped her shoulder gently against yours. “You can borrow him anytime, but go home now before Ale has no finger nails left, she's bitter when she's worried”

You gave her a grateful look and turned toward the building, already picturing Alexia, hair messy from sleep, pacing slightly, pretending not to worry. ⚽️

The stadium was loud, pulsing with the kind of energy you could feel in your ribs, but your heartbeat stayed steady. Controlled. You sat on the bench, boots already laced, shin pads in, warm-up jacket zipped halfway. You didn’t feel nervous not in the usual way. It wasn’t butterflies or adrenaline. It was something quieter, heavier, but still focused.

This was your coping mechanism. Always had been, head down, boots on, give everything to the game.

The plan was simple. You knew it. The coaching staff had been clear all week: sixty minutes, no matter the score, you’d get your debut.

Alexia had squeezed your hand during the tactical briefing that morning. Just once. A grounding touch. Nothing more. And it was enough. She knew what this game meant to you even if no one else in the stadium knew the weight you were carrying under that calm exterior.

Ellie had driven you to the stadium. She didn’t say much in the car, just queued up your shared playlist and made sure Teddy got one last cuddle before you left. She hadn’t missed a day since. Neither had Alexia. Your grief didn’t scream it simmered. Quiet. Controlled, but always there.

The game kicked off, and you watched intently. Every pass, every pattern, every gap in the opposing back line. You were ready. Hungry.

At minute 58, the assistant coach turned toward you.

“Two more minutes,” she said quietly, tapping her watch. “You good?”

You gave a short nod, already standing, peeling off your jacket. The crowd noticed, a murmur rolled through the stadium. Cameras swung toward you, your name echoed faintly.

Sixty minutes hit. Your number lit up. Applause rippled. Salma, you were replacing, jogged toward the sideline, slapping your hands and gave you a big prolonged hug before smacking your back sending you on your way.

You stepped onto the pitch, your lungs filling with the clean cut of match-day air, your studs biting into the grass.

This wasn’t just a debut. This was a release and you were more than ready.

The frustration of being 2–0 down at home, especially to a team flirting with relegation, had already soured the atmosphere. There was a tension in the air, something uncomfortable in the crowd’s silence, the quick glances exchanged on the bench, but when you stepped onto the pitch, something shifted.

Your first touch was clean, confident. A simple one-two with Patri to break the press. The crowd noticed it how naturally it came, how your timing felt already woven into theirs.

By the 65th minute, you’d pulled one back. A sharp run through the line, Aitana threading a ball like a needle between defenders, and you striking it clean across goal into the far corner. The stadium lifted with a roar, cautious, but hopeful.

Patri came to you first, palm to your head, grinning. “Vamos, Coco.”

Alexia was next, whispering, “Let’s go. One at a time.”

Ten minutes later, a chaos of passes in the final third. Alexia to Aitana, Aitana back to you, then a slick layoff to Patri who didn't even glance before returning it in your stride as you made the run. The second goal was surgical. The crowd erupted and now, everything had changed, Barça moved like a machine now, humming, confident. You could feel it. You belonged in it.

The scoreboard still read 2–2 when the fourth official’s board went up five minutes of added time.

You felt it in your chest, one more chance, you stayed high, hovered on the shoulder of the defender, waiting. Alexia found you, her pass soft and clever. You took it in stride, cut inside, dipped your shoulder, and let the ball fly from your left foot. Top corner. Hat trick. 3–2.

The stadium erupted. Scarfs in the air, flags waving, fans screaming your name already like they'd known it their whole lives. Your teammates mobbed you Aitana jumping on your back, Mapi yelling “Bruja!” with a wild grin, and Alexia grabbing your face with both hands before pulling you into a kiss on your temple, barely able to stop smiling.

“Ya está,” she said against your ear, voice cracking with pride. “You’re home now.”

It wasn’t just a debut. It was a statement, and you’d written it in goals.

⚽️

The lights were bright, the mic was in your face, and the crowd behind the barriers still hadn’t stopped chanting. Your name echoed through the Johan Cruyff like it had always belonged there.

The interviewer smiled, clearly still buzzing like everyone else. “A debut hat trick, a comeback win, and the entire stadium singing your name… you couldn’t have written it better, could you?”

You blew out a quiet breath, smiling, your cheeks still flushed from the effort. “Yeah… I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet. Honestly, I just wanted to come on prove to myself the team and the club they were right to put me into this team and I wanted to make a difference. Help the team. I didn’t expect that.”

“You came on at 2–0 down. What was going through your head?”

You laughed, brushing your fingers back through your damp hair. “I just thought this can’t be how it starts. Not for me, not for us. We’re better than that. We needed energy, belief. So I just… trusted the players around me and they trusted me back. That’s the magic.”

The interviewer nodded. “The connection between you, Patri, Aitana, and Alexia looked like it had years behind it not just two weeks. How does that chemistry come so quickly?”

You smiled, softer now. “They're special players. World class, but more than that, they’ve made me feel welcome. They’ve made it easy to be brave here, we know how to play to each other's strengths and that makes all the difference.”

There was a beat before the next question, a gentler one. “This is your first appearance since” The reporter paused, clearly choosing their words delicately. “a really difficult personal loss. Many people didn’t expect to see you here tonight. How did you find the strength?”

Your throat tightened, but you nodded, ready. “Football’s always been where I go when I don’t know what else to do. This week has been... the worst of my life, but being here, with this team, this club it’s helped. The support from everyone here has been incredible, I've had so many meetings with Pere and the team about how they can support me and how I can still be involved whilst taking the wider team and myself into account. Its been a balancing act on giving myself the time to process an grieve but also fulfil the commitment I made when I signed for the club and I know my mum and sister would’ve wanted me to keep going. So I’m doing this for them. Every goal, it’s for them.”

The interviewer blinked hard, clearly touched. “Thank you for sharing that. One last question before you go celebrate, how does it feel to be wearing these colours now, officially?”

You looked out to the crowd, the banners, the fans still singing, still waving scarves and flags. “It feels like home,” you said simply. “And I’m just getting started.”

The interviewer grinned as they turned slightly, reaching down to the table beside them. “Before we let you go there’s one more thing,” they said, holding up the Player of the Match trophy. “You are the player of the match as presented by Liga F”

You blinked at it for a second, almost stunned again. “Seriously?” you asked, the smile already tugging at your lips.

“Hat trick hero, game-changer,” they replied warmly.

You reached out and took the trophy, the weight of it oddly grounding in your hands. You turned it over briefly before looking up, touched and a little sheepish. “Thanks. Really. This means… a lot.”

From behind the camera, a shout rang out, followed by the unmistakable sound of several pairs of boots pounding on turf. You barely turned before you were mobbed screamed at, hugged, jostled.

“Oyeeee!” Kika shrieked as she practically jumped onto your back, arms locking around your neck. “The star of the match!”

Patri grabbed the trophy from your hands, lifting it dramatically in the air like you'd just won a major final, while Aitana laughed, ruffling your hair.

Alexia was right behind them, laughing breathlessly, cheeks flushed and eyes gleaming as she fought through the crowd to get to you. “I leave you alone for half an hour and you steal the whole damn show,” she teased, voice low as she finally reached you, hand slipping to your waist like it belonged there. No cameras could hide that.

Mapi and Marta were already trying to get the trophy back for photos, and Ellie somehow had her phone up, yelling, “Smile!” as half the team posed around you like a ridiculous school photo.

You were still catching your breath when Irene clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Not bad, Coco,” she said, proud. “You’ve got Barcelona talking.”

You just grinned, looking around at the chaos, the love, the arms wrapped around your shoulders and the roars from the stands still echoing into the evening.

As you made your way around the pitch for the thank you lap, the applause from the stands rumbled like distant thunder, constant and warm. You kept your head up, waving occasionally, but your jaw was set trying to keep it together. The weight of the week, the pressure of the debut, the grief that still echoed in your chest like a dull ache it all threatened to well up in your eyes.

You were walking alone in the middle of the pack in the gap from the front group and those trailing behind, boots heavy on the grass, the stadium lights somehow sharper than usual, when you felt it fingers gently curl around your waist.

You glanced sideways, surprised, and there was Marta. No words, just her steady hand, her presence. She didn’t even look at you, just kept walking, her support quiet and grounding.

A second later, on your other side, a light brush of contact. You turned slightly to see Mapi falling into step with you, her arm brushing yours, her expression softer than usual.

“You're walking stiff, are you hurt?,” Mapi said under her breath, lips barely moving, eyes forward.

You let out a small laugh through your nose, and that break in tension almost undid you. You blinked quickly, swallowing thickly. “Trying not to cry on TV,” you murmured.

Marta’s hand gave a tiny squeeze. “Let them see it if it comes. You’ve earned every emotion tonight.”

Mapi nodded, brushing a stray tear off your cheek with a flick of her knuckle. “This team has you. On and off the pitch.”

You didn’t speak for a while after that. You just walked, flanked by two of the toughest women you’d ever met, letting the love from the crowd soak into your skin, letting yourself be held not by words, but by presence.

The celebrations continued long into the evening the dressing room loud with music and laughter, your teammates still riding the high of the comeback win. Everyone had rallied around you from the first whistle, and now, with your debut hat trick and Player of the Match trophy resting beside your kit, it felt like you'd finally exhaled.

You'd showered, changed, and stepped out into the quieter hallway outside the dressing room, phone in hand, when you saw her.

Alexia leaning against the wall in her training kit, arms crossed, a quiet smile on her face. The moment your eyes met, her whole posture softened, and she pushed off the wall, walking toward you.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she said, voice low, amused. “Three goals in thirty minutes?”

You shrugged, the grin creeping back onto your face. “Had to make an entrance.”

Alexia stepped closer, fingers brushing your hip. “You made a statement.”

You looked down, suddenly shy, but she tilted your chin gently so your eyes met hers. There was pride there, yes, but also something deeper. Something weightier.

“I mean it,” she said, her tone gentler now. “If you keep playing like that… I’d marry you tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened, caught somewhere between laughter and disbelief. “What?”

She laughed softly, the sound full of affection. “I’m serious. I watched you today and I thought, ‘Yeah. That’s my person.’ Not the football. You, handling everything. The grief, the noise, the pressure. With grace. With heart.” Her thumb brushed over your jaw, soft and grounding. “I could just marry you.”

You stared at her, blinking, chest tight with a sudden swell of emotion. “Alexia…”

“I’m not asking. Not yet,” she added quickly, but there was mischief in her eyes now. “Just saying it out loud, because if there’s a future, and I get to be in it with you? That’s something I want.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against hers, smiling. “If you’d asked today, I’d probably have said yes.” You laugh gently

She smiled, eyes closing for a moment as she breathed you in. “Don’t tempt me.”

There, in the quiet of the hallway, hearts still beating fast from everything you’d both been through, it was the first time you really saw it. A life beyond the lines. A love big enough to hold all the pain, the joy, the history.

And maybe, just maybe, a future with your name on it. Together.

----

This will be the last chapter for a little while, I want to work on some other stuff.

I'll come back to it in the future, maybe with a time jump

[bacchuschucklefuck]

soon it'll be dawn again

transcript under the cut ⏬

page 01

Fig: no way? - you're still up?

Riz: Wh– yes?

Riz: Why'd I not be.

page 02

Fig: I me~~ean - that took.

Fig: whole day.

Riz: Yeah?

Fig: 'm beat.

Riz: you should sleep.

page 03

Fig: nah. my guy's still up

Fig: I wanna hang out.

page 04

Riz: That's really nice.

Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.

Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.

page 05

Fig: yeah, but you do it…

Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.

Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.

page 06

Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.

Riz: … - mm.

page 07

Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.

Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.

page 08

Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.

Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now… 

page 09

Fig: Hey.

Riz: ?

Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.

page 10

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)

Fig: o yea.

Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.

page 11

Fig: here u go

page 12

Riz: uh

Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.

Fig: I'll show u

page 13

Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try

Riz: uh - What. do I carve?

Fig: anything!!!

page 14

Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?

Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - okay - wh. what's next?

Fig: haha - watch this.

(sound effect text): FWOO—MP

page 15

Riz: WH– DON'T JUST DO THAT???

Fig: Now it's fired!

Riz: THAT WAS NOT SAFE

Fig: (actually it's just dry. if u add water rn it'll dissolve)

Fig: ok catch!

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - careful!!

Fig: dw no need haha

page 16

Riz (thought bubble): oh - it's warm…

Fig: now I want you to throw this.

page 17

Fig: u gotta do it - c'mon

page 18

Riz: wh– - It's like 3AM right now

Fig: oh it's not /fired/ fired it's not gonna make a loud noise

Riz: And then just? leave a pile out here?

Fig: pour water over it & it'll be gone I told u

Riz: but

page 19

Fig (off screen): RIz.

page 20

Fig: I've done all this before.

Fig: Can you trust that at least?

page 21

Riz: no, I– - I do. - I trust you.

page 23

Riz: okay what happens now

(sound effect text): glob

page 24

Fig: we do it again!

page 25

Riz: wh. [larger than usual space] What do you mean. (this clay's too wet also)

Fig: see! you're already learning

Fig: [blank speech bubble] - there are flows that are futile to fight. - The world changes.

Fig: Things change.

page 26

Fig: I've learned my lessons with "forevers". - But - as an artist

Fig: I can give you one thing: - You can always do it again.

page 27

Fig: most of everything depends on the rest of the world, - but this. - making new. - that's yours as long as you want it.

page 28

Fig: So?

page 29

Riz: Yeah. - Yeah! - let's make another one.

[art-by-jas]

Bath

Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

A/N: I see soft Robby is winning the poll I put up, so here is a little something to hold you over.

WC: 910

You are enjoying a peaceful evening with Robby in his spacious bathroom. A few fragrant candles flicker softly, filling the space with a cozy warmth. Soft music flows from the speakers on the countertop. A light fog covers the mirrors from the warmth of the bath. Robby sits comfortably in the large bathtub, leaning back and showcasing his muscular body, which gleams slightly in the low light. He is the very definition of calm, appearing content and peaceful. With a warm smile, he extends his hand to draw you in.

His voice is kind but appealing as he says, "Come here." 

Your eyes trail over Robby's bare chest as you approach the tub, and then you jokingly remark, "I have to admit, I'm enjoying the view." Before offering to help you into the tub, he chuckles, his lips twisting into a grin. Gently, yet firmly, he takes hold of your hand and leads you into the warm, bubbling water. Robby hugs you to his chest and puts his strong arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth as soon as you're at ease in the water. He leans his head back on the edge and closes his eyes happily. Robby's steady breathing is accompanied by a calming pattern created by the water's gentle lap on the tub's edges.

"This is nice," he says in a quiet, comforting voice. "Just you and me."

You lean your head on Robby's chest and enjoy the warmth and comfort of the water while listening to the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"Yes," you agree, sighing happily.

The closeness of his body provides a sense of security and intimacy. Robby's fingertips trace small patterns on your back as they languidly move across your flesh. He gives you a gentle, loving kiss on top of your head, his touch and love speaking for you, and he lightly runs his hands up and down your arms.

"It's been a long week, hasn't it?" Robby says, softly breaking the silence. He leans down and gives your shoulder a little kiss. You nod in accord, enjoying the moment's simplicity. Robby's touch is relaxing. You turn your head slightly to look at him, taking in his handsome face and the relaxed expression on his features. The candlelight casts a warm glow over his skin, accentuating the curves and planes of his muscles.

"I couldn't agree more," you remark in a kind and gentle tone. "Simply sitting and unwinding for a time is pleasant. No interruptions or diversions."

You pause and look at Robby's face, admiring his rugged features. The flickering candlelight softens his strong jawline, and his eyes appear warm and honey-brown in the dim light. You reach out your hand and gently trace the contours of his face with your fingertips.

You whisper, "You have such a handsome face," with a soft, caring touch.

Robby turns his head to plant a gentle kiss on your fingertips, and his face softens. He whispers, "You're the beautiful one," with awe in his voice.

You can feel the heat of his breath on your fingertips, sending shivers down your spine. Robby reaches out and holds your cheek tenderly in his palm, his intense gaze fixed on yours.

He mutters, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," his voice rough with emotion.

A tiny thrill of pleasure runs down your spine as your fingers softly touch Robby's lips, causing your breath to catch a little. His eyes are warm and welcoming.

You whisper, "I mean it though, you really are handsome." You continue to softly touch his face while blushing slightly, running your fingertips along the curve of his chin and the planes of his cheeks.

Robby's face softens even more when he notices how pink your cheeks are; his eyes are full of love. You are drawn closer to his chest as his arms gradually tighten around your waist.

He responds, "You're too kind," in a low, raspy voice. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy hearing it." You feel your heart skip a beat when Robby smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You get a wave of affection from his sincere and endearing look. You instinctively bend over and plant soft lips on the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Your loving gesture brings a broader smile to Robby's face, and his eyes light up with joy. The corners of his eyes crinkle even more as he laughs softly. To place a kiss on your lips, he releases his grip on your waist and gently twists you. Robby's warmth sends a delightful shiver down your spine as your lips meet in a tender, loving kiss. You can feel the subtle stubble of his facial hair against your skin, and his lips are soft and slightly moist. You break the kiss by pulling away slightly, but Robby can't resist stealing another, deeper, and longer kiss this time. Robby tenderly rubs his forehead against yours as he withdraws from the kiss, his eyes locked on yours. His expression grows serious, and you can't help but marvel at the love that sparkles in his gaze.

He says, "I love you" in a deep, passionate voice. "You know that, right?"

Your heart swells with love and joy from Robby's words, flooding you with emotions. With a small, slightly teary smile, you nod.

"I know," you whisper as you trace his cheek with your fingers. "And I love you too. More than you can possibly imagine."

MASTERLIST

[daycourtofficial]

Wingspan Matters

Summary: based on this request, you, Nesta, and Feyre catch your mates in a pissing contest over their wingspans

Author’s note: silly little crack hehe

Word count: ~1k

You poured yourself another cup of tea as Feyre and Nesta began squabbling over something you really couldn’t bring yourself to care about. You looked out the window, taking in the nice spring weather. A light breeze was flowing through the trees, causing the branches to move in a dance to the wind’s patterns.

You watch as the birds flit by, their song a lament to the end of winter, as if they too were sending their thanks to the Mother for spring to return. It’s the first warm day in months, the first day that your forearms won’t get cold being exposed to the air.

The life around you seems to dance and sing at the joyous return of spring - insects buzz past the windows, their high pitched frequencies a delight to your ears. You don’t let yourself think for too long about how the resurrection of spring will cause Cassian to snore even louder than before.

Perhaps you and Azriel can plan an escape to the Summer Court for a few weeks. Hopefully the distance and the crashing of waves will be enough to block out Cassian’s loud snoring.

You get lost in a daydream of laying on the beach with Azriel, either in the sand or in hammocks, applying a protective balm to his wings. The sun is warm on your skin, the salty spray of the ocean in your hair.

Muffled shouting disturbs both your daydream and whatever quarrel Nesta and Feyre were in the middle of. The three of you open the doors to the balcony, leaning over the railing to find your mates in a circle in a clearing on the property, their tan skin and large, dark wings making them stand out amidst the greenery that surrounds them. 

Azriel was standing to the side, looking incredibly smug with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches his two brothers. Cassian has a piece of ribbon that he was holding up to Rhysand’s back. The two kept bickering, over what you couldn’t discern.

Before any of you could question what the two were discussing, Rhysand took the ribbon from Cassian and pushed him off. Cassian landed on the ground, but immediately sprung back up, his hands coming up and shoving Rhysand off the rock he was perched on.

“Looks like the bats are finally measuring themselves,” Nesta muses, bringing her cup to her lips.

You could hear Rhys’s laugh from the balcony as he sprung up, keeping low to the ground as he charged at Cassian, his shoulder hitting Cassian’s hips. He pushed Cassian into the ground, causing Cassian to push his weight upwards so the two of them begin rolling around on the ground, punches and curses being shared to and fro. 

Feyre chuckles, “it seems Azriel’s already won.”

Nesta peers back to you over her cup, “I don’t think it’s just Azriel that’s won.”

“Don’t draw yourself up too short, Nes. I think Cassian’s in second place.”

Nesta looks back at you, eyes roaming up and down your frame, “I’m more surprised he hasn’t broken you in half yet.”

Feyre laughs as you reply, “you’d be more surprised if you saw some of the things we do.”

You waggle your eyebrows at Nesta as Feyre continues laughing, but Nesta’s not quick enough to hide her smirk without your notice.

“How long do we wait until we have them measure Feyre’s wings?” you ask.

Feyre thinks for a moment, hand on her chin, “maybe when Azriel gets a little too cocky.”

“Or Rhysand gets too pouty,” Nesta adds.

From across the courtyard, you could see Azriel’s amused smirk as his eyes met yours, a light tug on the bond urging you to keep your gaze on him. You smile, pulling back softly. He raises his eyebrows up and down a few times, and you send some amusement down the bond as you roll your eyes at him.

He stretches his wings out at your attention, making them as large as he can. You’re pretty certain you’ve seen birds do similar things in mating rituals, but the unfortunate thing is seems to actually be working on you.

He looks over to his brothers, still rolling around in the dirt, and gently takes off for a short flight up to the balcony the three of you are on. He lands softly in front of you, his wings creating a small wind, his chest glowing in the sunlight as his hands reach for you, pulling you into him by your hips.

You melt into him, arms going around his waist, your head resting over his heart as he supports your weight with the railing behind him. The warmth from his skin is soothing without being overbearingly hot.

“They make me want to gag,” Nesta tells Feyre, and you move your head so you can see the two pairs of eyes looking back to the two of you. Azriel wraps his wings around you, making you nearly impossible to see if it weren’t for your feet. You can hear the smile on Nesta’s face at her words, though.

You weasel an opening between Azriel’s arms so you can make eye contact with Nesta as you tell her, “he makes me gag too,” as you make an obscene gesture with your hand.

Nesta’s face immediately goes into her hands while Feyre chuckles, but her laughs are drowned out by the male in front of you, his laugh rumbling in his chest beneath your ear.

He peers down at you, one eyebrow raised in question. You nod slightly, and the two of you vanish into his shadows, leaving Feyre and Nesta to watch their mates continue to fight in the dirt, forgetting who really won the competition.

[daddyslittlecrow]

How about period Sex with caleb⁉️⁉️

YES YES I WILL!!

Oh.

You meant…no, no, of course. It's just a prompt! Not a serious possibility 🤧

Anyway….I love these types of prompts. Menstruation happens whether people like it or not and I absolutely love that the game has 5 such gentle, kind period trackers ❤️

And they would all absolutely fuck you during it if you let them

Not proofread, sue me 🤘

Warnings: 18+ MDNI

Painkiller - Caleb

For some reason, the cramps seemed to be much more intense this month. You spent the last few hours curled up around a heating pad, willing the painkillers to keep working. While the pain was still manageable, you peeled yourself from the sheets, hobbling to the bathroom to change your pad.

By the time you were washing your hands, you heard the door to your apartment shut. Caleb. You shamelessly texted him a while ago, begging him to come over after work so he could take care of you.

You collapsed back into your nest of self-pity just as he burst through the door. “I bought 4 different kinds of chocolate to avoid any tears. Learnt my lesson last time.” He said immediately, a plastic grocery bag in one hand and the other hiding behind his back.

He bent down. His kiss told you how much he missed you, caressing your lips with his. The scent of aftershave mingled with steel consumed you. You breathed him in, urging your racing heart to settle. It didn't help that he was still in his sexy uniform.

Caleb straightened up, a boyish grin plastered on his face. “Also got you these for being so brave.”

Red roses. Emotions swelled in your chest as you admired them. His gesture was returned with a weak smile. “They’re beautiful Caleb. Thank you.”

He left the bag of supplies next to you before walking out with roses and the vase that held last week’s bouquet. While you felt somewhat okay now, you knew the cramps were lurking. Patiently waiting until the painkillers left your system so they could seek revenge.

Thank God you asked him for more. The pills you took earlier were the last one in the box. You brought the grocery bag closer to you, sifting through the chocolate and pads. Oh no. Quickly dumping everything onto the bed, pure panic bubbled.

“Where are the painkillers?” Caleb was walking back into your room, eyes growing wide at your words. His cheeks flushed. He had forgot them, distracted by the flower stand.

You tapped your phone screen, checking time. It was too late. By the time Caleb returned to the store it would be closed. You sighed dramatically. “I guess I'll die tonight then.”

Caleb chewed on his bottom lip, feeling terrible that he racked his brain for a solution. He placed the roses on your nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. The warmth of his finger tips felt soothing as he traced patterns along your back. You were wearing the comfiest things you could find. A pair of sweatpants and one his t-shirts.

His amethyst eyes drank you in like you were the most beautiful creature on earth. Even if you thought you looked horrendous with your hair piled on top of your head and a lovely hormonal spot screaming for attention on your chin.

“You know Pips…i think I read somewhere that orgasms can help. Eases the cramps.” You laughed despite feeling your cheeks start to burn. Despite feeling miserable during your period, it also made you extra…sensitive.

“Nice try. Did you suddenly forget there’s literal blood flowing out of me?” You reached for one of the chocolate bars, trying not to focus on the slight tremble of your hands. “Come back when the river’s running clear.”

Caleb shook his head, hand sliding down to the hem of his t-shirt. Last month he had finally realised you got incredibly horny during your period. But you never initiated anything and he gave you space, assuming you weren't into it. But he decided to test the waters today.

He loved taking care of you and if that meant making you cum so you'd be less uncomfortable, well? It was a win-win in his books. “What if I told you I don't care whether you’re on your period or not?”

Avoiding the burning glare of his eyes, you snapped off a piece of chocolate and shoved it in your mouth. Anything to distract you from the pulsing sensation that started between your legs.

It's not that you thought it was gross to have period sex, you just couldn't stop imagining a grimace on your boyfriend’s face if he looked down. You’d rather just avoid the potential for embarrassment.

Caleb leaned over and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your breath hitched, a dribble of chocolate at the corner of your mouth. He knew his proposal interested you. Your thighs pressing instinctively together did not go unnoticed.

But he could also see you were too in your head, worrying about the worst case scenario. At war with yourself. He just needed to get you to stop thinking altogether.

The pad of his thumb collected the chocolatey drool before pushing it back into your mouth. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt his thumb go past your lips.

“Suck.”

The command went right to your pussy, feeling it flutter with anticipation. A small groan slipped out of you. Instantly your lips wrapped around him, swirling your wet tongue around the tip. Just like you did with his cock.

Caleb hissed. Restraining his desires was quite the challenge when you hollowed your cheeks slightly to suction him. Your eyes locked on his - eager, waiting. His jaw clenched, forcing himself to ignore how hard he was already - straining painfully against his work trousers.

This wasn't about him.

A soft pop followed as Caleb removed his thumb from your mouth. Then his lips were on yours, claiming them, swallowing the soft moans the came from your throat. He took those sweet sounds as permission to keep going but he wanted to make sure.

He grabbed the material of the t-shirt, peeling it up over your head. Your back hit the mattress as he gently pushed you down. His eyes trailed down to your bare breasts before lowering himself, his body almost on top of you.

He kissed a scorching path down your neck, stopping when he reached one of your nipples. Your back arched, pushing your breast closer to his mouth. He smirked, flicking out his tongue to tease the sensitive bud. You whined. “Caleb…”

“Good girls use their words, pipsqueak.” His hand slipped under the waistband of your sweatpants, then your panties. A wave of embarrasment hit you and you tried to move his hand away.

Caleb tutted before grabbing your wrist with his free hand, pinning your arm over your head. His fingers pressed against your clit and you moaned loudly as he worked in agonizingly slow circles. Every bit of hesitation melted away as your pussy clenched around nothing. His eyes never left yours.

“Tell me what you want or I’ll stop.” He murmured against your breast before sucking your nipple into his mouth. The tempo of his fingers increased, making your hips buck.

“You - ah - I want…you.” The pleasure started to build, making it difficult to speak. Caleb growled against your breast before removing his hand from your panties.

He practically ripped your bottoms off your legs, leaving you bare before him. His eyes hungrily roamed your body before stopping at your swollen pussy.

He didn't expect how aroused he got seeing your wetness tinged pink with blood. His dick was leaking at the sight. You’d feel so much wetter, hotter, if he sank his length into you right now. And because you were extra sensitive, you'd be able to feel every thick inch as he dragged through your gummy walls.

Before you could start overthinking, he gripped your thighs hard and pushed them apart, opening you wider for him. “Just like back and let me make you feel good, beautiful.”

Your fingers clutched the sheets, trying to anchor yourself as he resumed his touch on your engorged clit. You moaned his name like a prayer. He answered by bringing his middle finger right next to your pulsing hole.

“You want it Pips?” His voice was rough with raw need. He ignored your desperate hips urging him to go further, to fill you with his long finger. “Fucking beg for it.”

You let out a sob as his movements on your clit slowed, refusing to indulge you until you obeyed. “Please let me cum on your…ah…your fingers. I need you.”

The air left your lungs as he slammed his finger into your pussy. He grunted as he fucked it into you hard, making your eyes roll back as your body writhed. In. Out. In. Out.

The sounds of your squelching cunt was sending you close to the edge. He added a second digit, stretching your slick walls. Your hips rocked to match his pace, fucking his fingers as your stomach clenched from the intense pleasure that grew.

“That’s it baby. I know. It feels good doesn't it? So tight. Want you to cum.” Caleb curled his fingers, massaging your g-spot as your moans grew louder. “Good girl. Cum for me. All over my fingers.”

The tension in your body finally snapped. Your jaw went slack as you let out a guttural scream, pussy clenching as you chased each wave of your orgasm. Caleb continued to sciossor his fingers into you, loving how your back arched from what he did to you.

After a few more leisurely pumps, he withdrew his fingers. You melted into the mattress, utterly spent. Your flushed face only burned hotter when Caleb immediately went to the bathroom. He returned with a damp washcloth and gently cleaned you up.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, afraid he may have been a bit too rough. He just couldn't help it. He stopped cleaning a few times to leave kisses on your stomach.

Despite cringing at the undeniable mess between your legs, he may have been right. Your orgasm seemed to keep your cramps at bay for a while longer. “That was definitely better than swallowing a few pills.”

You broke out into a fit of laughter and he grinned as he leaned over to kiss you. Your eyes bore into his when he pulled away, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You didn’t miss the michevious spark that burned in his gaze.

“I’ll check in with you we get something to eat. I might be able to give you something…stronger if the pain comes back.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

heartslabyul washroom

Yes, I am making a whole separate post for this—

WAHHHHHHH 😭 WhAt THE hECKIE, IT’S SO CUTE????????!??!?????????!!!!!???????

It seems the washroom was modeled after the scene where Alice meets the talking flowers. The curved ceiling being patterned like the sky, the floor resembling grass, and all the floral and foliage decorations really give the sense of being outdoors!! I especially love how the flowers are incorporated; they act as lamps (you can see that their centers are giving off light) as well as mirrors. The leafy wall in the back seems to be washing machines or dryers?? The whole washroom has such calming, relaxing vibes, and I bet it smells nice too :0

The jars underneath are also so interesting—they of course resemble the Drink Me bottles from Alice in Wonderland, but it seems they’re serving as sinks here. The mouth of the bottle is actually solid and forms a bowl, and it seems like water might flow from the silver leaves between the bowl and the mirror. I’m guessing that the bottles drain into whatever sewer system NRC has from there. Or maybe the liquids inside the jar-sinks is hand soap…? (But I like to headcanon thar the petals of some flowers are soap strips… You just rub your hands on them to get some.)

I want this washroom… Move over, Heartslabyul 😭 I’m about to camp out there every day and make your washroom my new home…

Edit: I don’t know why this post blew up, but I find it very funny that we’re scrutinizing and evaluating the washroom so hard 😂 Imagine the Heartslabyul boys staring at us as we examine the room all over to understand how tf this stuff functions…

[violetsoup]

continuation of minecraft testificates inspired by my culture...... two villagers, an iron golem and an evoker :-]

i experienced thoughts about time period, though there is no set period for my idea. i designed the villagers' clothing and appearances around jōmon era and culture, thinking of the colour scheme and shapes of clothes you find in the minecraft villager. but the hiding of hands, i will have to think about a bit more, or cast aside completely.

and many many centuries ago in the jōmon period, we made sculptures called dogû, that had rounded appearances and lots of small intricate patterns and details. i think that dogû are very cute, like little friendly robots. it would be nice for the iron golem to have a similar aura, wouldn't it?

evoker style i sucked directly from the visual styles used in hyakunin-isshu playing cards (百人一首). i played a game called bōzu-mekuri a lot as a child (a kind of gambling game that translates to "turning over the bald monk"??? ha ???), and thought that the heian-era style of dress that monks had would be very cool for an evoker to wear.... long flowing fabric with lots of folds. 　ok. I go to bed now

please reblog if you can, it helps me reach people outside :-D

[leejenowrld]

‘naughty or nice?’

pairing — johnny suh x reader

word count — 6.2k

genre — smut, explicit sexual content, soft sex, riding

synopsis — johnny surprises you with a gift—delicate lace lingerie, wrapped neatly with a note that reads, “for later.” when you step into the bedroom that night, wearing it just for him, he’s already waiting, sprawled across the bed, his dark gaze raking over you like he’s ready to devour. “you’ve been so naughty this year,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he pulls you into his lap. his hands roam your body, deliberate and possessive, before he guides you down onto his cock, making you ride him slow and deep. every roll of your hips draws a growl from his chest, his words filthy and unrelenting as he promises to make you pay for every sinful thought you’ve put in his head this year—until you’re shaking, speechless, and ruined.

[fic ml]

Christmas with Johnny had been something out of a dream, the kind of day that felt stitched together from fleeting moments of joy and laughter, each one lingering in your chest long after it passed. His family had welcomed you with open arms—warmth and teasing banter flowing effortlessly as they crowded the kitchen, passing plates and sharing stories. Johnny was the same there as he was with you: a gravitational force. The kind of man who, with just one look, could make everyone in the room feel seen and adored.

You’d stolen glances at him all day, watching as he carried plates of food to the table, effortlessly charming his mom with a kiss to her cheek and cracking up his cousins with stories only he could tell. He’d sneak a hand around your waist as he passed, or a fleeting kiss to your temple, grounding you amidst the chaotic joy of it all.

But it wasn’t just his touch that stayed with you. It was the way he looked at you—like there was no one else in the world. Like you were the only person in the room, even when it was crowded and bustling. You didn’t miss how his gaze lingered as you leaned over to pour drinks, or how he’d pull you closer during lulls in conversation, his hand brushing against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

When the day began to wind down, after his family had retired to their rooms, Johnny had slipped a black box into your hands. There was no explanation, just a kiss to your forehead and a soft, “You’ll know when.” The package was light, almost weightless, and when you’d untied the ribbon back in the quiet of your shared room, your breath caught.

Delicate black lace.

It felt like something meant to be touched, something meant to unravel beneath careful hands. The fabric was impossibly soft, whisper-thin, designed to cling to your skin and leave nothing to the imagination. The bra was scandalous—lightly padded but sheer, with intricate lace that traced patterns across your skin, framing rather than concealing. The panties matched, high-cut at the hips with thin straps that barely held on, leaving little more than teasing glimpses of flesh. The garters were the final touch, their straps long and sinfully delicate, made to hug your thighs in a way that promised to leave faint indents.

Nestled beneath the lace was the note. Two words, written in his sharp, deliberate hand: For later.

You stared at the note for what felt like an eternity, tracing the letters with your thumb as heat bloomed low in your stomach. Johnny had always had a way of setting you on edge with the simplest gestures, but this felt different. More deliberate. A promise, an unspoken claim, a quiet challenge you could already feel tightening in your chest.

It had been impossible to look at him the same way after that. Sitting together on the couch, tucked under a blanket as a movie flickered on the TV, you could barely focus. Every time his hand brushed yours, every time he leaned in to murmur something against your ear, you felt that heat rise again. You could still see the box in your mind, the lace, the note, the quiet command that followed you like an echo.

When his family laughed and teased over another round of drinks, Johnny had been the picture of calm, his arm draped over your shoulders as if he didn’t know what he’d just done to you. But the way his fingers brushed your skin, the slight smirk he gave when you shifted under his touch—he knew. Of course, he knew.

By the time the day slipped into evening, your desperation was barely contained. It wasn’t just the thought of the lingerie, of how it would feel against your skin—it was the thought of him. Of his hands replacing the fabric, of the way his eyes would darken when he saw you wearing it. The way his voice would drop when he told you exactly what he was going to do to you.

Now, as you stood in front of the vanity mirror, you felt all of that heat and tension come rushing back. The lace clung to you in ways that made your pulse race, the garters digging lightly into your thighs, leaving faint indentations that were already making your skin hypersensitive. The straps of the bra felt thin and fragile against your shoulders, as if they were designed to slip loose with a single tug. You ran your hands down your sides, your fingertips brushing the lace as you adjusted it, the fabric stretching and pulling, its softness almost mocking in how little it truly covered.

And then there was him. You couldn’t stop thinking about Johnny—how he’d react when he saw you like this. You pictured the way his eyes would trail over you, slow and deliberate, devouring every inch of exposed skin. The way his mouth might curve into a slow, sinful smirk, his tongue flicking against the corner of his lips as he dragged his gaze over you again, and again.

Your breath hitched as you imagined the low, rough edge his voice would take on, how he’d murmur something filthy against your ear, his hands already replacing the straps, the lace, everything that had felt so delicate against your skin now gone. He’d make it clear, as he always did, that no fabric could ever come close to the way he wanted to feel you.

But for now, you waited. You smoothed your hands over your thighs again, trying to calm the way your body felt like it was vibrating, alive with anticipation. The note still sat on the corner of the vanity, its two words taunting you. For later. Every time you glanced at it, your pulse quickened, a reminder that this moment wasn’t entirely yours yet—that he was the one who decided when it would come. Your skin prickled with the thought of his hands replacing the lace you wore, the way his voice would break the tension you carried, low and commanding.

For him.

And it was only a matter of time.

You didn’t know that time was now.

The air shifts the moment you step into the room, so thick with tension it feels as though it presses against your skin, wrapping around you like a second layer. Johnny is there, sprawled on the edge of the bed as though he’s been waiting for you all night. His posture is lazy, but the sharpness in his gaze says otherwise. His chest is bare, catching the soft light in a way that highlights every curve of muscle, and his sweatpants hang low on his hips, teasing the deep cut of his V-line, the waistband threatening to slip lower with every breath. The heat radiating from him feels almost tangible, making the air between you dense, charged.

But it’s his eyes that snare you. They find you the moment you step inside, dark and steady, pulling you into their orbit with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. He doesn’t just look at you—he devours you, his gaze dragging over every inch of your body as though he’s already stripping you bare. The teasing smirk you know so well is gone, replaced by something far hungrier, something so unrelenting that your knees threaten to give way before he’s even spoken.

Johnny doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. He simply lifts one hand, crooking his finger in a silent command. Come here. The gesture is small, but it might as well be a tether wrapped around your body, pulling you forward.

Your feet carry you without hesitation, each step feeling heavier as the space between you disappears. The heat in his eyes follows your every movement, licking over your skin like a flame. His lips twitch, not quite a smile but a flicker of satisfaction, as though he already knows exactly how this is going to end and is savoring your ignorance of it.

“Stop,” he says, his voice low and calm, but the authority in it hits you like a bolt.

You freeze mid-step, your breath catching. He rises from the bed, slow and deliberate, his body fluid in its grace. There’s nothing hurried about the way he moves, yet every shift of muscle feels calculated, purposeful. As he comes to stand before you, the room shrinks until it feels like he’s the only thing occupying the space.

He circles you once, his steps unhurried, his presence brushing against your skin even though he doesn’t touch you. His hand lifts, fingers hovering just above your shoulder, tracing the air as though he’s memorizing the curve of your collarbone, the slope of your neck. He doesn’t make contact, but the closeness of his hand leaves a trail of heat in its wake, maddening in its restraint.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs finally, his voice a low rasp that’s thick with tension, “what you’re doing to me right now?”

The words hit you like a physical touch, the rasp in his tone curling low in your belly. Your breath stutters as his eyes drag over you again, lingering on the lace clinging to your body like a second skin.

“Turn around,” he says, softer now, but the command laces through you like a current.

Your pulse spikes, and for a moment, hesitation flickers in your chest. But the sharp tilt of his brow eliminates any thought of resistance. Slowly, deliberately, you turn, every inch of your body burning under the weight of his stare. His gaze feels like a physical thing, tracing the line of your back, the soft dip of your waist, the way the lace hugs the curve of your hips.

“Slower,” he murmurs, the word a low, deliberate drawl.

The sound of your breathing fills the room, uneven and shaky, as the silence around you thickens. His attention presses against you, peeling away your composure layer by layer, leaving you trembling under the strain of his presence.

“Good girl,” he says finally, his voice rough, edged with something darker. The praise ripples through you, pooling low in your belly, leaving you weak in its wake.

When you turn to face him again, his expression softens just slightly, but the hunger in his eyes is sharper now, cutting through the stillness. He sinks back onto the bed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his fingers tap against his thigh.

But then his hand drops lower, skimming over the waistband of his sweatpants. Without looking away from you, he pushes the fabric down slightly, just enough to free himself, his cock hard and heavy in his hand. His fingers wrap around himself, stroking slowly as his eyes rake over your body.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need. “I want you to see what you’re doing to me.”

Your knees nearly give out at the sight of him, the way his chest heaves as he works himself. A low groan slips from his lips, and the sound is enough to send heat flooding through your veins. His thumb swipes over the head of his cock, and his jaw tightens, his breath catching as he moans your name softly, like a plea.

“Take it off,” he says, the command sharper now, his movements slowing but no less deliberate. “Let me see you—all of you.”

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the straps of your lingerie. The lace catches slightly as you ease it down, your skin prickling with heat under his unrelenting gaze. His hand tightens around his cock, the movement sharper now, his strokes becoming rougher, more desperate. His breath hitches audibly as the fabric slips lower, baring more of you, and the deep groan that rumbles from his chest feels like it vibrates through the room.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the word raw and broken, his voice cracking under the weight of his need. His thumb drags over the tip with a deliberate slowness, spreading the slickness there, and his hips jerk into his hand as if he can’t control himself. The sight of you—the lace slipping down your shoulders, the bare skin revealed inch by inch—draws another curse from his lips, this one louder, more guttural. “Look at you… God, I can’t—” His words cut off as his breath stutters, his head falling back briefly before his eyes snap back to yours, dark and devouring.

His hand works faster now, each stroke harder, more deliberate, as though he’s chasing something he knows he can’t quite catch. His other hand grips his thigh, knuckles white, as if he needs to steady himself against the force of his own arousal. “Do you even know—” His voice breaks, low and uneven, as his hips buck into his palm. “Do you know what you fucking do to me? Just standing there, teasing me like this… I can’t take it.”

When the lace finally falls away completely, you pause, your chest bare, your skin flushed under the heat of his gaze. His strokes falter, his hand tightening, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. His jaw clenches, the tension in his body visible in the taut lines of his muscles as his moans grow louder, raw and unrestrained. He presses the heel of his hand against himself for a moment, his hips rolling up into the pressure, another desperate groan spilling from his lips.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low and wrecked, trembling with the weight of everything he’s holding back. His free hand lifts, fingers curling in a silent but unmistakable command. There’s no patience left in him, no restraint, only raw, unfiltered hunger. “Now,” he adds, the word dripping with desperation as his gaze locks onto yours, pulling you toward him like gravity.

The moment you’re within reach, he surges up from the bed, his hands gripping your waist as his mouth crashes against yours. The kiss is hard, demanding, his lips moving against yours with a heat that leaves you dizzy. His hands slide down to your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

Johnny walks you to the bed, the kiss never breaking, his mouth devouring yours like he’s starving for it. When he sits back down, settling you on his lap, your legs still around his waist, he pulls back just enough to catch his breath. His forehead presses to yours, his hands splaying against your back to hold you close.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he murmurs, his voice rough, thick with reverence, his breath hot and uneven as it brushes against your lips. His gaze locks onto yours, unwavering, his pupils blown wide with a hunger so raw it feels almost tangible. There’s a heat in his tone that wraps around you, seeping into your skin, making you feel exposed under the sheer weight of his desire. “And I’m not letting you go,” he rasps, the words landing heavy, a promise more than a statement, his grip on your waist tightening as if to ensure you understand just how much he means it.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he mutters, his voice dripping with frustration and lust as his hands slide lower, fingers curling into the curve of your ass. His touch is deliberate, possessive, the press of his fingertips leaving faint imprints that burn into your skin like a brand. “All night,” he growls, his tone breaking slightly as his restraint begins to unravel, his lips brushing against the edge of your jaw. “Teasing me, fucking testing me. Do you have any idea what that’s done to me?” His voice catches at the end, low and broken, his words laced with a desperate edge that betrays just how close he is to snapping.

“I hoped it would,” you whisper, the words spilling from your lips like a confession, your voice soft but loaded with intent. Your nails skim the hard lines of his shoulders, trailing down his back with just enough pressure to make him groan. “I wanted you to lose control,” you add, your tone sultry, teasing, your body pressing closer to his as you feel the tension in him coil even tighter, like a live wire threatening to spark.

His hands slide from your waist to your hips, his touch deliberate, possessive, the warmth of his palms searing into your skin. His eyes rake over you, dark and hungry, taking in every curve, every inch now bared to him. He tilts his head slightly, his lips parting as if to speak, but instead, a low groan escapes him, raw and guttural, vibrating through your chest. The sound alone makes your thighs clench around his waist, and his fingers tighten against your skin in response, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “You’re everything,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper but weighted with something heavy, something that makes your chest ache and your pulse race.

Slowly, his lips find your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the delicate line of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Each kiss lingers, his tongue teasing the sensitive curve before he moves lower, trailing down your chest. His hands slide up your back, fingers splaying as they press you closer, arching you into him. He pauses, his lips hovering just above your breast, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. The intensity in his gaze is nearly too much, and when he finally presses his mouth to your skin, sucking lightly, it sends a jolt of electricity straight through you. “I could spend all night just like this,” he mutters against you, his voice rough with need, his teeth grazing you just enough to make your breath hitch.

You shift against him instinctively, the hard press of him against your core impossible to ignore, and his hips buck up in response, a sharp gasp tearing from his lips. “You’re going to ruin me,” he growls, his voice low and strained, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, anchoring you against him. The friction sends sparks shooting through your body, and you can’t stop the soft moan that escapes you. He swears under his breath, the sound rough and needy as he leans back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. “But if you think I’m letting you take control…” His lips curl into a wicked smile, his fingers digging into your hips as he shifts, rolling his hips against yours in a deliberate, teasing rhythm. “Think again.”

His lips find your neck, his breath warm as he presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, each one slower than the last. His hands slide up your back, fingers trailing over your skin as if mapping every inch of you, his touch deliberate, reverent, grounding you even as the tension between you coils tighter.

Johnny’s grip tightens as you grind against him, his thumbs pressing into the soft curve of your hips, guiding you toward where he wants you most. The anticipation is unbearable, your body taut with need as his hands hold you firm, his control keeping you balanced on the edge. You shift slightly, testing, and the low groan that rumbles from his chest vibrates through your body like a shockwave.

“Don’t tease me,” he mutters, his voice thick and edged with a warning. His hands slide lower, gripping your thighs with a pressure that makes you feel claimed, branded by his touch. “Not tonight. I’ve waited long enough.”

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as your fingers hook into the waistband of his sweatpants. The fabric resists briefly before sliding down, freeing him completely. The sight of him—hard, thick, and already pulsing with need—makes your thighs tremble, your body tightening in anticipation of the stretch to come.

Your breath stutters as you lower yourself onto him, the sensation impossibly deep, the pressure making your whole body tense and tremble. The stretch is deliciously overwhelming, every inch of him filling you slowly as your knees dig into the mattress on either side of his hips. His hands steady you, gripping your waist with a firmness that borders on reverence.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice thick and unsteady. His chest heaves as his eyes snap to yours, dark and heavy with hunger. “You feel so—” His words cut off with a sharp inhale, and he tilts his head back slightly, his throat working to suppress a groan. “Perfect,” he breathes. “You feel perfect.”

Your fingers press against his chest, the heat of his skin pulsing under your touch as you anchor yourself. The stretch of him is all-consuming, leaving you trembling as your body adjusts to the fullness. Your breath stutters, catching in your throat as you settle completely onto him, his size forcing you to take a moment just to breathe. His hands are firm on your hips, grounding, but he doesn’t rush you. Instead, his thumbs trace slow circles into your skin, a steady contrast to the chaotic rhythm of your heart.

“You’re something else,” Johnny murmurs, his voice low and rough, cutting through the heavy silence of the room. His gaze flickers from where your bodies are joined to your face, and the intensity in his eyes makes your pulse quicken. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me?”

The weight of his words sinks deep, igniting something that feels electric. You exhale shakily, your fingers sliding up to his shoulders, gripping tight as you begin to move. Slowly at first, rolling your hips in deliberate circles that make every inch of contact burn hotter. His reaction is immediate—a sharp inhale, followed by a groan that rumbles low in his chest, reverberating through your body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his grip on your waist tightening as if he’s barely holding himself back. “Just like that. Take your time. I want to feel all of you.”

The deliberate pace feels torturous, the tension building with every movement. The way his hands guide you, firm but never forceful, only amplifies the heat between you. His thumbs dig into your skin, just enough to leave faint impressions, a mark of possession that matches the hunger in his gaze.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says, his voice softer now, laced with something almost reverent. His hands roam up your sides, fingertips grazing your ribs as if mapping you out. “I could watch you like this forever.”

His words send a shiver racing down your spine, and you can’t help the way your body responds, your movements growing bolder, more insistent. You lift yourself just enough to let him slip deeper with each downward motion, the slow grind of your hips wringing a growl from his chest that feels primal, unrestrained.

Johnny leans forward suddenly, the change in angle pressing his mouth to your collarbone. His lips part against your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that make you arch against him. His hands slide to the curve of your back, pulling you closer as his teeth graze the delicate line of your shoulder.

“You’ve been torturing me all day,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin, thick with a heat that sends sparks shooting straight through you. “Walking around like this—like you’re mine to take, whenever I want.”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, your nails dragging against his shoulders as the words settle low in your belly, tightening the knot that’s already coiled there. “I am,” you whisper, your voice shaky but certain. “Yours. Always.”

He groans at that, the sound dark and guttural, and his hands drop to your hips again, his grip possessive. He lets you keep control, but there’s no mistaking the way he pulls you down harder, forcing you to take him deeper, his own need threading through every motion.

The rhythm between you grows desperate, each roll of your hips met with a thrust of his that sends shockwaves through your body. His name tumbles from your lips, broken and breathless, as the heat between you reaches a fever pitch.

“Look at me,” Johnny commands, his voice rough, laced with an intensity that makes you tremble. You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze, and the raw hunger there is enough to leave you undone. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your thighs to grip you tighter. “I want to see every fucking second of this.”

You lose yourself in the connection, the way he watches you, unrelenting and completely captivated. The sound of your bodies moving together fills the room, joined by his low groans and the broken gasps you can’t hold back. His fingers slide higher, his touch firm but reverent as he strokes along your sides, as if he’s trying to memorize you.

“Johnny,” you whisper, the word trembling on your lips as you try to keep up with the fire building inside you.

“Not yet,” he growls, cutting you off with a roll of his hips that leaves you breathless. “You’re not done. Not until I say.”

He leans forward again, his forehead pressing to yours as his movements slow just enough to leave you aching for more. His hands slide to your lower back, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his skin branding yours. “Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice low, the restraint in it fraying with every word. “That’s what you do to me. Every fucking time.”

Your reply is a gasp, a broken sound that only makes his lips curl into a smirk. His hands guide you again, pulling you into a rhythm that’s slower but somehow more intense, the deliberate drag of his cock inside you wringing every ounce of control from your body.

“You’re mine,” Johnny murmurs, his voice quieter now, but no less commanding. His lips graze your jaw, his breath warm as he presses soft, teasing kisses to your neck. “Every inch of you. Every sound. Every thought. You’re mine.”

Your body trembles as you settle against his chest, his heat enveloping you, grounding you in the aftermath of everything he’s just pulled from you. His hands stroke along your back, fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns, a stark contrast to the way his chest still heaves beneath you. The silence in the room is broken only by your ragged breaths mingling with his, a symphony of intimacy that feels as raw as it does sacred.

Johnny’s lips press against your temple, soft and lingering, like he’s trying to pull you back from the edge you’ve just been teetering on. But the tension in his body tells you he’s not finished. His hands grip your hips again, firmer this time, and the way he tilts his head back to look at you—his gaze molten and unrelenting—sends another shiver racing down your spine.

“You think I’m done with you?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, the rasp in his tone igniting something deep inside you. His fingers dig into your skin just enough to leave a mark, his lips curling into a smirk that’s equal parts satisfaction and promise. “Not yet. You’ve still got more to give.”

You can only whimper in response, your body pliant under his touch as he lifts you slightly, shifting his hips beneath you. The motion drags his cock against your oversensitive walls, and the sensation pulls a gasp from your lips. He watches you, his eyes never leaving yours, drinking in every twitch, every tremor, every shaky breath as he guides you back down, slowly, deliberately.

“You’re going to take all of me,” he growls, his voice rougher now, edged with a hunger that makes your stomach flip. “Every inch. Over and over, until you can’t think about anything but me.”

The words barely register before he moves, his hips rolling up to meet yours with devastating precision. The friction is intense, every thrust dragging pleasure and pain in equal measure through your body. You cling to him, your nails raking down his chest as he sets a rhythm that leaves no room for anything but the heat between you.

“Daddy!,” you choke out, your voice splintering as his thrusts grow impossibly deeper, harder, shaking your entire frame. The sound of his name on your lips, desperate and broken, tears from your throat like a scream, sharp and pleading. His grip on your hips is bruising now, his fingers digging into your flesh with the kind of raw possession that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Say it again,” he growls, the sound feral and guttural, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your throat. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so your body arches against him, exposing you completely. “Scream it for me,” he commands, his voice dark and dripping with authority, his hips snapping up with enough force to make your thighs tremble as you try to keep your balance.

“Daddy!!!!” you cry, louder this time, your voice cracking under the sheer force of him, your body trembling uncontrollably as he drives into you, relentless. Each thrust leaves you gasping, your nails raking down his chest, clinging to him as the coil inside you tightens to an unbearable degree. Your legs tremble where they straddle his hips, barely able to keep up with the brutal rhythm he sets, his cock filling you so completely that it’s all you can feel, all you can think about.

“That’s it,” he snarls, his voice a raw, unrestrained growl as he watches you unravel completely, every inch of your body trembling as you ride him without control, without shame. His free hand slides down to grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh with a possessive force, lifting you higher before slamming you down onto him so hard it knocks the breath from your lungs. The wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting echoes through the room, mixing with your broken cries and his guttural, feral groans.

“Look at you,” he hisses, his voice dripping with reverence and hunger, his lips parting as his gaze rakes over your flushed, sweat-slicked body. His eyes darken further as he takes in the way you tremble above him, every curve of you bare and glistening under the dim light. “That’s my good girl,” he growls, the words rough but laced with something so possessive it feels like they burn into your skin. “So fucking perfect. Completely mine,” he spits, his grip tightening as his hips snap up harder, dragging another scream from your lips, his focus locked entirely on the way you’re coming apart for him.

His movements grow more erratic, more desperate, his control slipping with every scream of his name that tears from your lips. You feel his hand move between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit with devastating precision. The pressure sends a jolt of pleasure shooting through you, and your body bucks against him, completely out of control. Your head falls back, a scream ripping from your throat, and he growls beneath you, the sound vibrating through every inch of your body.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice a broken rasp as he shifts again, angling his hips to hit a spot that has you crying out, your hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders. “Every fucking inch of you, mine.”

“Yours,” you choke out, your voice trembling, raw with desperation as your nails drag down his chest, leaving faint trails against his flushed skin. Your body arches uncontrollably, hips grinding down to take him deeper, the stretch of him sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. “All yours, Daddy,” you gasp, your breath hitching as the sharp thrust of his hips makes you cry out, your hands clawing at him for purchase. ““Fuck, baby, I can feel you—so close, so ready to fall apart for you.” The words spill out unrestrained, dripping with need, your body moving of its own accord, frantic and aching to keep the pace he’s driving into you. “Please,” you whimper, the heat between you unbearable, your voice breaking as the pleasure tears through every inch of you. “I can’t—God, I can’t — ”

The possessiveness in his tone is mirrored in the way he grips you, his hands unrelenting as they guide your every movement, grounding you even as he drives you closer to unraveling. His thrusts are deliberate, claiming every inch of you with a force that leaves you gasping, your body trembling under the sheer intensity. The tension inside you spirals tighter, an unbearable heat coiling low in your belly as you feel yourself careening toward the edge, your limbs shaking from the effort of keeping up with him. His words cut through the haze clouding your thoughts, rough praise that ignites something primal within you, breaking down every last barrier. Instinct takes over, your hips meeting his with a desperate urgency, your body seeking more, needing more. Each arch of your back pulls him deeper, each roll of your hips dragging you closer to a release that builds in waves, crashing through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, consumed entirely by him.

“Johnny,” you gasp, your voice raw and trembling as your head falls forward, your forehead pressing against his, sweat slicking your skin against his. “I’m—”

“I know,” he growls, cutting you off, his voice dripping with desperation, his breath scalding against your lips. “Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.” His thumb finds your clit again, circling it with devastating precision, the slickness there only amplifying the intensity as your body seizes.

The added pressure sends you spiraling, the release tearing through you like a riptide, leaving you sobbing his name. Your walls clamp down on him, the sensation making him curse under his breath, his voice dark and broken as your cries echo in the air between you. Every tremor that wracks your body is met with his unwavering hands on your hips, holding you steady as you shudder uncontrollably in his arms, every nerve ending alight with unbearable pleasure.

“Good girl,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with lust and pride, the words spilling from him like a benediction. “So fucking perfect, squeezing me just like that.” The way he says it, filthy and reverent at the same time, sends another shiver racing through you, your nails digging into his shoulders for balance as his cock pulses deep inside you.

But he doesn’t stop. He can’t. His hips snap up into you with reckless abandon, his movements erratic and feral now, each thrust dragging a new cry from your throat. His control is gone, lost to the way you clench around him, your wetness coating every inch of him, making every movement slick and devastating. His hands grip your waist hard enough to bruise, pulling you down onto him like he can’t get deep enough, like he wants to bury himself in you completely.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice rough and guttural, his head falling back as his chest heaves beneath you. “You feel so fucking good, so perfect around me.” The words are torn from him, raw and unfiltered, his nails biting into your skin as he surges up into you one last time. His release hits him like a tidal wave, a low, primal sound tearing from his throat as he spills into you, the warmth flooding your body in thick, hot waves.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled gasps, your bodies still trembling in the aftermath as you collapse against him, your face buried in his neck. His arms wrap around you instantly, holding you close as though afraid to let you go, his lips pressing against your damp temple in a kiss that feels both grounding and worshipful.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs after a long moment, his voice low and spent but laced with a teasing warmth. His nose brushes yours, his lips tugging into a lazy, satisfied smile. “Guess we’ve earned a permanent spot on the naughty list.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound muffled against his chest as your fingers trace slow, aimless patterns along the sweat-slick skin of his shoulder. “Worth it,” you whisper, your voice soft and sure, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek grounding you. And for now, that’s all that matters—just the two of you, tangled together, completely spent but entirely at peace.

[thefandomsfervent]

JayVikMel x Reader Four Glasses and a Bottle

minors DNI.

Summary: You aren’t sure how you got here. There had been talks before. Talks. That was all. Talks and imaginings. Ideas that were hidden in drunken conversations. Jokes that lingered in the air too long. Now you’re here, in Jayce’s apartment.

AKA - A fic where Viktor and reader are dating, Jayce and Mel are dating, and everyone likes each other. A lot.

Word Count: +3.4k

There is no plot. Reader is AFAB with female pronouns.

Tags: Slight Overstimulation, Polyamory, Cunnilingus, Plot What Plot, Gratuitous

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

Dinner was going well at least, but the energy in the room was tense. Dessert forgotten on the table. A bottle of wine had been uncorked hours ago, sitting in a bucket of ice. You were nursing your glass slowly, it was lukewarm now. Mel had two already. Viktor and Jayce? You weren’t sure how many the two had drank. Not because they had too many to count, but because Mel kept her eyes on you all night. Golden freckles glinting in the low light of the living room.  She was enchanting. Viktor hadn’t really spoken much that night, his hand on the small of your back whenever you were together. Jayce and Mel had kept the conversation flowing for most part, you chiming in on occasion. Viktor offered small hums in acknowledgement, only ever speaking if he disagreed with a statement.

All four of you knew why you were here. You have a feeling that the councilor is enjoying drawing it out. Watching as you swirl your wine for the umpteenth time in this last hour. Watching when you bring it to your lips. The blush that had been creeping up your neck since dessert was definitely to your ears. You could feel the cool breeze of the window on them, on your cheeks. Jayce had been drawing patterns on Mel’s leg, her dress pulled higher and higher. Soft calves, lush thighs, smooth skin. You look away but Jayce catches your eyes. A hungry hazel gaze. You breathe out slowly, quietly. Viktor notices and plays with your free hand. His fingers opening and closing your own. 

“And you?” Mel’s talking to you. Has been for the past couple of minutes it seems. 

“Hmm?” You try to remain nonchalant. It fails, she sees right through you. You know she does. She laughs, a quiet rich sound. Like a bell cleansing the air. 

“Do you want more wine?” She’s getting up, walking towards you. Jayce doesn’t join her but does lean forward to watch. Waiting. 

“Oh! No thank you. This,” You raise your glass,” is plenty.” You sip some partly in show, and partly to quell the sudden dryness in your throat. It doesn’t help. 

Right. It’s a red wine. “Water, maybe, would be nice.” This was going to be a long night. 

“Sure.” Ever the pleasant host, she brings you some. Her hand so warm in contrast to the glass. It lingers there when you grab it. “But some liquid courage might help your nerves.” Fingers ghosting over yours. 

“Viktor?” her voice pulling his attention away from your hand. The fiddling stills. “How do you deal with such a tantalizing pet.” You almost choke on your water. “Easy to tease, I presume?”

The heat on your face multiplies tenfold. Viktor’s hand presses firmly into yours. He keeps his gaze level with hers, waiting until she sits down to answer. 

“The same way you deal with yours.” Oh. Oh it’s happening. It’s happening now. Were you ready for this? You had to be right? You were. He feels you tense, hand moving to your knee. The circles he’s drawing would usually soothe you. Now? They’re lighting a fire. Every inch he’s touching is burning. “Discipline and Reward.” His other hand is on your back now. You regret taking off your coat earlier, despite the heat emanating off your skin. 

“I think we have different rulesets.” You’re looking at Jayce, to see what he’s thinking. But his gaze is on Mel, a lovesick puppy. A man utterly devoted. Her hand is snaking up to his hair, tousling the brown-black locks. He’s leaning back in her touch, humming. Eyes closed. It deepens the swirling in your stomach, and somehow calms your nerves. “Reward and Training.” 

A long night indeed. 

“Well then, how should we start?” She’s standing again, Jayce with her. It’s hard to look at anyone in the room now. You stare at the floor. You feel Viktor pull you up with him and you don’t fight it. Now more than ever you need grounding, direction. And he would give that to you. 

“Perhaps somewhere more comfortable.” Your lover replies. She leads you to Jayce’s room, a couch facing the bed. She gestures for Viktor to take it, it has more room. She wastes no time in starting to disrobe. She was utterly beautiful, all three of them were in their own way. You felt self-conscious. Jayce helps her before shedding his own layers. Viktor’s taking off his shirt, but not his pants. He grabs your face with both hands, looking you in the eyes. Cool thumbs rub circles into your cheekbones, a small smile to soothe you. You reach up and grab his forearms.  It grounds you and he leans closer to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He pulls away when you sigh, much calmer than before. 

“Koloušek, help me with my belt.” It’s a question and not. It’s a command. You’re nodding, hands moving on their own accord. Muscle memory navigating metal and leather. He leans into your ear. “Are you ready?” You nod. Slowly, but you nod. His amber eyes looking into yours. Lids lowering. “Can they touch you?” You’re nodding again, a little faster. You were ready for this. For them. He turns you around, hands gentle on your shoulders and pulls you into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

“You are wearing too many clothes. Both of you.” It’s Jayce speaking now. He looks to Mel, who’s naked body is stretched along the couch. Like a goddess amongst people, like she lived like this. She gives him a dip of her head, royal hand gesturing at you. Viktor beckons him forward, and softly pushes you back up to Jayce. You try to stand steady, confidently. He’s holding his arms out. As if he was only expecting a hug. His big arms surround you in warmth. He smells like oil and cinnamon and sweat. “I’m nervous too.” his voice reverberates through your body, his chest muffling the murmur you reply with. “But we’re in good hands aren’t we?” You nod and his hands are undoing the strings of your dress. It pools around your feet and despite the lack of clothes you were still too hot already. No bra tonight. You knew it would get in the way. Yet you still had a pair of underwear on. For posterity if not to show that you had nice lacey sets. To present you as a well groomed package. 

Viktor is standing again too, leaning over your shoulder to kiss his fellow scientist. His hands find your chest, your back, the hem of your underwear. He’s pulling them down, and you widen your stance. Lifting a leg when necessary. You were well-trained. You can hear a whine and it’s not your own. It’s Jayce’s. You can’t move. Not that you want to, you’re caught between the both of them, watching Mel watch the three of you. She had a third glass of wine in her hand. 

“Help him out Jayce.” Is all Mel has to say for him to pull away from you and circle behind Viktor. Scruffy kisses on your lover’s neck. You move to sit with Mel, tentatively taking the seat next to her. She’s looking at you with desire and playfulness. A cat with its toy. She sets her glass down and leans towards you. “Don’t be shy. Come here.” Her arms pull you to her, but just enough that she can push you down onto the couch. Your legs are parted open for her to lean in between. Her pretty arms caging you on either side of your head. “Look at them.” Her nose is nudging you to face Jayce and Viktor. The former had Viktor in the same position as you, his pants had been pulled off at some point, forgotten at the edge of the bed. Jayce was kissing him so softly, like you do. It pulls something in your chest. Something hungry. “They look good don’t they?” Her voice is like honey in your ear, soft bites at the column of your throat. 

“Can I touch you?” You barely get it out as a whisper. You feel her smile into your neck, a hand pulling your arm to her chest. An answer. You’re moving slowly, cataloging every curve and dip. You’re trailing down her stomach when she kisses you. She tastes like wine and salted caramel, the dessert from earlier sweetening her breath. You’re whining against her lips, especially when her hands settle on your waist. Your hips buck into hers and she pulls away.

“Do you want your lover back, Viktor?” You mewl at the loss of contact. You’d never kissed someone so soft before. So sweet. “She seems desperate.” She nips at your bottom lip on the last word. When you chase her lips with your own, she pushes you back down. “Uhn-uh-uh. Behave.” Mel doesn’t miss the way you gasp at that. “Eager to please, aren’t you?” You're nodding dumbly at that. Putty in her hands. You’re leaning into her again when she speaks. “Why don’t you go back to the bed and let the men take care of you. Such a pretty girl.” 

The two perk up at that. Separating. Viktor is sitting up, opening his legs and patting his lap. You feel sluggish, head spinning. So much movement happening in such little time. Mel helps you up, waiting for you to cross over before she lays back down. Watching. 

Viktor is holding your legs open with his own. rubbing soothing circles on your hips as Jayce leans down. His puppy dog demeanor is hard to believe when his eyes hold a sweltering heat in them. He looks at you before looking to his partner. You feel Viktor nod at the crook of your shoulder. He's kissing your neck, nibbling on your ear. And Jayce is leaving small love bites on the inside of your thigh. His breath fanning over your obvious arousal, cool on your hot skin.

He spreads you open, fingers dipping dangerously close to your true center. He doesn't push in, just holds you open and stares like it's the finest meal he'll have in years. Mel is watching from the couch, swirling her wine in one hand. When you catch her green gaze you whimper. She hums in response, eyes narrowing in delight.

“Go on Jayce, don't leave the poor girl waiting.” He dives in, slow circles of his tongue to start. The contact has you leaning into Viktor. His hands on your side, moving slowly up to your chest. You can feel him behind you, straining in his boxers. It's hard to think about anything and you've barely started. So many eyes were on you. Two sets of hands. 

"You taste so good” Jayce is slurring over his words, wet slurps against your core. His voice is deep with want. He's speeding up, still not delving into you more than the occasional slip of his tongue. He's focused on your clit, hands rubbing a ticklish spot behind your knees. 

"Tell us more, let her hear your devotion." Mel is trailing one jewelry adorned hand over her breast, she's laying on the couch. Propped up like the muse of a painting. Kneese barely parted. 

"So fucking good. Needed to be here like this. For you." He looks up at you, chin shining with your slick. 

He's growling against your flesh at the eye contact. Eating like a man starved and you can't hide your gasps any longer. You don't know what to say. You don't know if you're supposed to say anything. Viktor's hands find your breasts. Knuckles slowly dragging on the underside of them as he starts to grab at you. His long fingers kneading, pushing and pulling, letting the weight of them shift in his palms. He's whispering something you can't quite understand. Rutting against you when you push back at a hard suck on your clit. He's biting at your ear and your eyes screw shut. 

You're close, already, you realize this and the moan that leaves you is a high keening sound.

"Please."

"No dear, not yet." You open your eyes at that. Your breath is getting harder to control. It doesn't get any easier when you see Mel lower her hand to between her thighs. Her beautiful hand setting a slow pace for herself. She knows she's asking the impossible and offers you a painful mercy. "Jayce, come here." He doesn't move at first, he's still licking at you and you're breathing heavier as you approach the peak. She calls him again, firmer. Sharper. "Jayce." He pulls away, pupils blown open and eyes apologetic as he leaves you to sit with her. She pulls him towards her by his hand, down for a kiss. It's filthy, mouths open, you hear his groan when she deepens it. Your arousal is shared on both their lips now. 

Viktor taps your hip twice for you to get up. Standing on shaky legs you turn to face him. He's freeing himself from his boxers, lithe hands peeling the fabric away. You can't hide the hungry look in your eyes at how pretty he is. Length springing forward and caught in one hand as he beckons with another. You move to straddle him. 

"Impatient. Kneel." Simple words. Observation and command. You whine but follow his order. He's stroking himself slowly, amber eyes almost hidden by blown pupils. He smirks at you, his bottom lip red like he's been biting it this whole time. You're scooching closer to him. 

"Please” you ask again, voice wavering. He doesn't answer you, just puts his good leg forward. You know what he wants. You sit up, straightening your back as you set yourself on the shiny leather of his shoe. 

"Do not move." He tells you. Your legs are sore from being held open by him and Jayce. He knows that. His half-lidded eyes staring down, daring you to disobey. You do your best to listen. A shake has set in your legs as you sink down slowly. The cold of his shoe helps soothe you some. Not much. Want is growing in you by the second as you hear Jayce and Mel behind you. Mel is laughing at something and when you turn around you see why. Jayce is kissing her neck, his beard tickling her ear as he ruts against her stomach. Her elegant arms playing with his hair. He's whimpering, whispering pleas to be inside her. To be good for her. You clench around nothing.

"Don't look at them, look at me." A hand on your jaw. A thumb in your mouth. You're mumbling apologies around it. Tongue swirling around the digit. You're gently grabbing at Viktor’s wrist. Needing to be anchored, eyes watering at his disapproving tone. 

"Koloušek" his voice softens at the tears welling. "It is okay, you are doing so well."

"You just got distracted. It's okay, come here." He pulls you up. He's kissing your face, trailing his fingertips down your back. "Do you want to watch?" He whispers in your ear. You nod fervently. "They are pretty. Yes?" You're whining again, misdemeanor forgotten as heat settles in your core again. He turns you around like you were earlier, holding himself up in one hand. You've done this before. You sink onto him. Back to his chest. The action is slow, every inch of him stretching you open. You let loose a breath at the feeling, mouth opening. Viktor is groaning at the heat of you. When you're flush against him he wraps his arms around you. "Don't move love. Just watch them" you're so full and you feel like you're going stupid. 

He is so warm. Holding you tightly against him. He curses when he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering when you see the two lovers before you. 

Mel is smiling at Jayce, he's already spent himself once on her chest and stomach. The contrast obvious on her skin. They are sitting up, and she's rubbing soothing shapes into his arm. He's nuzzling against her neck again, golden shoulders heaving as he takes deep breaths. She looks at you again, sitting on Viktor's cock. Her eyes are dragging over you, past his hold on you. To where you are connected.  He can't help a thrust when you tighten again, or a second when you let out the most pitiful whine that night. 

"Well aren't we lucky," she's looking at you but speaking to the Zaunite. "Such devoted lovers. Such good listeners." Viktor just hums, chest rumbling against your back. she's reaching down, grabbing hold of Jayce's softening erection. He jumps at the contact, leaning further into her touch. "What should we do?" This time the question is directed at you. She's pumping her hand up and down, softly kissing Jayce’s temples as she awaits your answer. 

"Let him fuck you." You're blushing hard, panting. You want to move so badly. You want to feel Viktor go in and out of you. You want Jayce to make Mel feel bliss. You want bliss. 

"Quite the command." An airy laugh before she lays back down. 

"Well?" She's looking to Jayce "Don't disappoint her." he's climbing over her, lifting her waist up with one arm, one hand curled on her hip as the other lines himself up. He's groaning when he pushes inside. Head falling back, mouth open. Hair stuck to his forehead. It's a beautiful sight. Her eyes fluttering shut as she wraps her legs around him. He's rocking slowly at first. Her little sounds of pleasure joining the heavy breathing of the room. Viktor starts moving too, one hand finding your clit and another holding your hand. Fingers intertwined as he begins to quicken his pace, grinding slow circles into your core, rubbing gently on your bud. It's too much, the visuals, the sounds, the sensation. You don't have time to warn him before you're cumming. You're crying out and squeezing his hand hard. He doesnt stop, just flips you on your back and fucks you through it. His balance is off, kneeling on his good leg. Letting his right leg hang off the bed. He's cursing as your back arches, forcing him deeper into you. "Fuck.” It's quiet at first but he repeats the word over and over as he gets closer. You're thrashing against the bed. It's too much.

Mel is egging Jayce on. You hear the couch start to creak. Telling him he's doing so good, that he feels so good. He's between cries and growling, obviously pushed over the edge too. You can hear his rough sob as he cums, and her gentle groan at the feeling of being filled by him.

Its’ too much. Viktor hasn't stopped either. His thrusts were getting sloppier but he hasn't stopped, you don't know how long you're like that. Dangling over another edge as he pumps into you. You feel a cool hand on your face, brushing hair out of your eyes. You know you must look a mess right now, fucked out of your mind. Someone is kissing you gently, the sensation opposite from how rough Viktor is going. Wine. You taste wine. Mel is kissing your face, telling you how good you're doing. "Do you know how fun it is to see you like this? Behaving so well for us." Jayce is behind her, holding on like he can't bear a second without her. He's eyes are on you. Still dark but soft. Tired and content. He's holding one of your hands rubbing a thumb into your palm. A second, softer orgasm rushes through you, your eyes are watering again.

Viktor's hips stutter at the feeling. He pulls out and strokes himself. Once. Twice. And paints your stomach in his release. He leans back, hands on your thighs as he collects his breath. He looks down at you, covered in him. At Mel cooing over your face. And Jayce pressing himself into both of you. Jayce looks at him, his other arm raised for him to join. He's sore. Exhaustion setting quickly in the room. Talks of everyone bathing later fading as he settles on the bed next to you.

Despite the stickiness of everyone's skin, it's a comfortable piling that happens. A tender silence that fills the room. Breaths even out, soft caresses for everyone’s come down. The first of many nights like this. 

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

---------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ -Headcanon Master List·-*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .----------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[astrobydalia]

Solar return observations

Virgo season is here which means my birthday is coming soon!!! I thought it would be fitting to share my first Solar Return observations with you. These are based on my experience, feel free to share yours!

Btw Ariel is my fave Disney princess I love her sm

work by astrobydalia

Fire rising in SR - these years were characterized for being SO SO chaotic and all over the place tbh. It was always a mix of good and bad things like damn I couldn't catch a break. So many rollecosters, STRESS, situations were I was at the edge of my seat, unpredictable and random stuff happening...

Air rising on SR - one word: fresh. Total opposite from fire risings. Air risings were years that felt so light and fresh! I felt like I was floating through the year in a good way! Just going with flow. And I've said this before the best most chill years where I've found myself thriving were Libra risings on SR (also venus in the 1st house)

Moon-Lilith conjunction in th SR - I felt like my life being sucked out of me and overall felt kinda unlucky that year. I felt so empty inside during this year it was insane. Also I was having mayor issues and conflicts with my mom

Chiron is in SR is a bit catastrophized imo. It can not only mean areas in your life that can "break" but also areas that could find healing or resolutions as well. Whenever I've seen the breaking or ending manifestation of this asteroid it was always from a place of reconsideration and healing rather destruction, like making peace with something. For example, Chiron in the 7th house could mean ending a relationship on good terms or unlearning unhealthy relationship patterns. On time I had Chiron in the 6th house and during that year I got a nice job after a long period of struggling to find a job. Of course it's nuanced and it can often be painful and disappointing process but I think people don't mention enough how Chiron is about finding relief as well

One time I read the SR for a client who had Pluto in the 6th house for that year and turns out she was planning to undergo surgery during that time for health reasons

Leo rising in SR - These years were TERRIBLE for some reason. Maybe it was due to Cancer 12th house but I was really struggling to find happiness and fulfillment in my life during these times

Cancer mars in the SR - So emotional!! Like truly it was years that were clouded by emotion. It was either due to family stuff, friends or relationships, but I was running on emotion all the time and I couldn't act on logic to save my life. However it's not like I was in my bed crying all day but rather these emotions were giving energy and motivation in some way. Somehow being emotional was always making be feel.... alive?

Moon in 12th house of SR - I was getting ready to move and separate from my family during this year

Taurus rising in SR - these years were surprisingly.... intense, specially with my relationships. A lot of patience, resisting and enduring. Every event that happened felt like I was going through a 10-year-long process and really had a strong impact in my life. Years were I reconsidered my priorities a lot and was really faced with what is it that I truly value

Uranus in the 1st house of SR - literally a few days prior to my bday I received shocking news that turned my entire year (and life) upside down so you can imagine how this energy played out. Life forcing changes on my life that I was not ready for but had to make it through one way or another

Virgo rising in SR - I started a new job!

Look at Part of Fortune and Vertex in your SR chart, these will be significant themes!

Capricorn rising in SR - I was.... borderline depressed here ngl. Those kind of years that never seem to end ever. I was receiving pressure from both my career life and my family life. Overall earth rising in the SR were years that felt very 'heavy' if that makes sense.

Juno in the 1st house of SR - these were years were I meant new people!!! I significantly enlarged my network

^Same thing with Venus/Libra/Vertex in the 7th house of SR. I didn't get into a relationships or had anything romantic going on, I met new people and made new friends in general. I also bought lots of new clothes and invested a lot in my image

Scorpio rising in SR -you know when you go through a very intense experience out of nowhere and then come out of it soon after like nothing happened and you're left feeling like "wtf was that for"? That's this.

Yod configuration in SR - very karmic life-changing and ground breaking events in my life. Before and after vibes

Moon in Capricorn in the SR - my girlboss era!!!! These were years were I began new professional opportunities like my first job or my first year in college

Moon in the 8th house of SR - you guessed it: trauma. I'm talking canon event kind of trauma. A family member died.

Vertex in the 8th house of SR - this was playing life on hard mode honestly. Not necessarily traumatic, but very complicated events and situations here that put you to the test

work by astrobydalia

[monalisahyperdrive]

Primarch names from least moanable to the most moanable - entirely subjective.

Factors taken into account:

Name length

How easy it is to say

General vibes ('imagine having sex with a guy and having to moan gilbert')

I wrote this instead of sleeping. I don't know either. This is getting posted and I will probably never address it again if I don't delete it during my break tomorrow. I should not be given internet access past 11pm.

Perturabo

It pained me to put him all the way down (up?) here at the least moanable as I fear he may actually be one of my favourites, however... I am not delusional enough to ignore that not only is this a pretty long name, a good amount of people struggle not only to say it but to even spell it. Not at all dyslexia friendly. I would give it a good go but I feel like in order to enjoy yourself you kind of have to accept you will be calling him 'Perty' or 'Bo' or whatever you prefer.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius fans please spare me but this is a long ass name at 3? 4? syllables. I don't even know what you could call him for short instead. However, I don't doubt that it's entirely possible, I just think it would take a while to stop stuttering through.

Mortarion

Another long name. Are you sensing a pattern yet? I am. More moanable due to having less vowels than Sanguinius and less harsher (?) consonants like in Perturabo. Pretty middle of the road, easy to pronounce, could probably be easier if you just start calling him 'Morty' instead.

Alpharius / Omegon

Alpharius is again another longer name that I feel like I would trip over for a good couple weeks. I am NOT shorting it to Alpha. I must maintain my dignity, whatever crumbs of it remain. Omegon is an easier name - likely due to it having less syllables (3 rather than 4). However, I feel like the only way to shorten it would be 'Meg' and that would make me laugh and I would get distracted. Remember how I said this is subjective? This is why.

Jaghatai

3 syllables, easy enough to say, not a lot of vowels or harsher consonants to trip over. Incredibly doable, and I'm sure many have tried it. Hell, I'd certainly take a good stab at it.

Angron

Harsh G right in the middle, otherwise no complaints really. 2 syllables. Straight forward. You could certainly give it a good go.

Rogal

2 syllables - easy right? Wrong. Evil G right there in the middle again. Probably would have been higher (lower?) on the list if it was softened with maybe an H right after. Alas, it is not so.

Corvus

2 incredibly easy syllables. The V is a little evil (harsh) but with a relatively short name and a soft starting consonant I'm sure it's manageable. Best bird boy. Not much else to say.

Fulgrim

Although apparently a good chunk of people have given it a go - or at least his wives have - we're back to the G dilemma. Personally I'd suggest calling him 'Fulgie' - like Fergie but worse.

Konrad

Quite possibly the most normal name on the whole list. Konrad. Everyone can say Konrad. An easy two syllables with the harshest letter right at the start. Easy peasy.

Roboute

I actually don't know if this is 2 syllables or 3. I even went and looked on Reddit. Some people are saying Ro-Bou-Te, I've been reading it Ro-Boot. Either way these are easy, with the harshest sound being the T of all things. Either way I don't think moaning for poor long suffering Robert is too tricky.

Vulkan

Deceptively soft V and K. What a pleasant surprise. Anyone could moan this easily, and he'd probably be delighted.

Lion

Objectively this is incredibly easy, which is why it made it so high (low?) on the scale. However, I would argue moaning 'Lion' in full sincerity is somewhat hilarious. That sure is the name of an incredibly powerful (and unfortunately incredibly sexy) man.

Magnus

Easy to moan. Probably wouldn't mind if you gave it a go. Again, one of the easier names. I'm sure he'd be happy to tutor you on the subject.

Lorgar

Flows nicely, 2 short syllables, incredibly straight forward. Started mentally calling him 'Lorgie', never recovered.

Ferrus

Incredibly straight forward name. Ferrus, pronounced the same as Ferrous, like the iron tablets. Something something you should do it, it's medicinal.

Leman

Not at the top due to the time it took to decide whether it was Lee-man or Le-man (like lemon). Personal gripe, but if you've gotten this far down without understanding that I don't know what to tell you. Quick, easy, sure why not.

Horus

As much as I wish to be deeply spiteful and shove him somewhere unremarkable in the middle, I just can't do it. This is an easy name. Don't worry, if you struggle at all I'm sure he'd be willing to let you keep trying until you figure it out. Bastard.