#they couldn't come up with literally any other outfit for that (or they couldn't for nintendo reasons or smthn)

[celestibears]

Happy Halloween i speedran a lil thingy inspired by this post: [link]

i made their costumes a lil more like casual cosplay bc casual cosplay is cool and i wanted to give willow a big dumb collar, but they ended up looking very unrecognizable.

[lil-oinks]

my issue with movie peach isn't that she's not feminine because obviously she is, and anyone sensible already knows "she's too feminist" or whatever is dumb. my issue is they made her into every generic cool serious surface-level "strong female character" action girl in a group of all men whose only character trait is "capable" that they've been writing over and over and over for the past ten years. I genuinely feel like they erased any personality she had past her appearance in favor of the single superficial female character type men tend to write when they want to be feminist and "modern." I'm not saying she shouldn't be capable and she shouldn't be cool or fight things because (I love paper mario) those things already are a part of her personality. this point is difficult to make with all of the "they're erasing feminine dainty proper women" takes because that's not what I'm taking about at all. I've seen people say if they wanted a character like this daisy was right there, but I wouldn't switch her character over to this trope either. daisy's LOUD and energetic and fun and the subdued woman whose role is being picking up the men's slack doesn't really fit her either (although I agree the two of them together would balance each other out (and it'd be nice if there were two women and they could interact)). it's exactly what I'd expect from a movie like this so I don't know why I complain, but I wish they would've done her differently. the character mario is about the whimsy but so is peach

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[really-burnt-toast]

Redesigning my COTL cast pt.1

HAHA I'm finally done! I only made busts tho bc Im lazy and Im not putting myself through drawing a size chart... YET.

It WILL come, just so I can show pretty outfits and show how ridiculous Leshy's hight is LOL

If you see any spelling mistakes, please ignore them <3

(more info and rambling under cut)

Here I'll write some more things relating to each character;

Lamb

Born in Darkwood to a single mother, their mom had named them Mellia after the flowers that grow there, since they had aided in striving off an illness she had during the pregnancy.

The Lamb grew up pretty happily despite being on the run. Their mother was eventually caught whilst they made an escape. During their years of hiding, they broke their leg during one particularly risky escape and were caught not long after.

Their number is 1.600.666 because I keep making a connection between Darkwood and Germany's Schwartzwald - there are 1.6 million sheep in Germany - so I decided to have that be the approximate number. 666 was just added for fun.

Their ear was tagged to keep track of how many sheep were caught in which realm. They just so happened to be the last to be executed. By mere coincidence.

They were born without horns and kinda made the crown shape into a set. It has the benefit that they can rip em off and use them as impromptu weapons.

Due to centuries of being treated as a tool for a prophecy and merely a vessel, their self esteem is downright horrid. Whilst they don't condone followers speaking ill of them, they pretty much let Narinder trample on their feelings up until they had snapped one day. In the end it did help them both, but it wasn't great it had to be taken to that point.

Extra: I added the vitiligo because when I imagine a human version, I couldn't help but see them as having Vitiligo. Their leg limp was made after I thought it would make them look more imposing seeing someone "weak" suddenly pull out a giant hammer.

Narinder

Found within a burning village under rubble, clutching a crown as war raged around them. He was found by Shamura and taken in.

He was the first to create resurrection and back then it was an EXTREMELY taxing ritual. It would require his own godly flesh to beckon people back to life - thus it would literally cause his skin and flesh to melt off his bones. Now that's not needed anymore but his body is still weak to it, meaning during certain stress factors, he can still become skeletal. He doesn't have scarring from it, but gained some cool markings.

He was bound by his arms, torso and neck - all of which are scarred. In the afterlife he was perpetually sitting, causing him to be paralyzed from the waist down. Once he was usurped he had to regain his ability to walk and was taken care of by the Lamb.

He was in a catatonic state for many years and it only got better gradually with many setbacks. For years he never left the bed and by the time his Siblings had been rescued, he had barely started going outside. He was also suffering from chronic pains which wasn't really helpful.

He's also very... Temperamental. It took him just as long to say anything nice to the Lamb and it took him extra long to see them as more than his vessel.

Extra: I changed his markings to be more like I had imagined them. The catatonic trait and chronic pain was added after the update and I remember how horrible it was having tendonitis and I wanted to channel my distaste into Narinder.

Shamura

Found and raised by the last gods, they weren't the greatest sibling. They may have taken in the others but it took them a long time to be anything other than cold. With Kallamar, Shamura was distant and strict - then with Narinder they attempted to be less harsh after the kid started crying himself to sleep. With Heket and Leshy they got less and less cold. They tried their best, they'd argue.

They got carried away by their feelings as they had feared at the start and that's when the first prophecy came to them. They had kept it hidden for way too long until the balance of the crown's powers were ripping at the seams due to Narinder's pursuit in power - and they made a decision. They had told Kallamar first. Then Heket and Leshy were brought in.

Stuff happened. Now they are barely coherent and at most have an hour or two at a time where they seem to make sense. Leshy stays with them the most. Kallamar takes care of them. Heket takes care of the rest. Their skull is caved in, they lost an eye and limbs - some of the damages can't be hidden by bandages.

There's also this thing that their crown keeps getting out of control whilst trying to keep their mind stable - sometimes they'll get startled - attempt to form a weapon and instead end up with their arm speared through. They have scarring all over their body from it.

Upon recruitment they are pretty overwhelmed. Their crown can't stop them from breaking anymore and they have gotten so used to godhood that mortality now feels like they are literally rotting alive. They can feel their body wasting away.

Only after getting their relic back do they start becoming more independent and stable. They nowadays go through some sort of rehab to try and regain their sense of self.

Extra: Not much was added. I wanted to give them Glasses but I can't for the life of me draw them with a pair... So Ill just say they have them but not show them LOL

Kallamar

His past is basically forgotten. It sorta slipped away since he hadn't deemed it fit to be remembered. At first he had MANY fights with Shamura, then it ceased after a confrontation turned violent which left him with a bad scar.

He had to take care of his younger siblings whilst coming to terms with godhood - filling in whenever Shamura wasn't physically or mostly emotionally unavailable. For a long time he was the only one that could comfort his ailing siblings. Dealing with that sort of made him pretty easily agitated.

When Shamura proposed the plan, he had been hesitant - but ultimately didn't say anything.

Now he takes care of his siblings medically. He hates himself more than he hates anyone else and as much as he is quick to condemn and betray Shamura - he is also quick to condemn himself. Though maybe not as enthusiastically or openly.

He likes to compensate. Giving gifts to request forgiveness - grand displays of favoritism or mainly decking himself and his multiple spouses out with Jewels. He still keeps his wedding rings around his neck and his earring references his siblings.

Funnily enough, he caused the least troubles to the Lamb. They could argue he even seemed relieved after a short while of staying in the cult.

Extra: Added Jewelry and two tentacles because he looked naked without them.

Heket

Loudmouth frog that when found with her crown, she started trying to fight Shamura - insulting whatever parent they had. She kept threatening to poison them too.

In the lineup of her siblings, she was often the one who took the sidelines. If she was happy, she was left alone. If she was displeased, she'd let herself known. The most uncomplicated of the siblings.

You'd almost miss how every other bishop would seek her out when help was needed. While Shamura helped with godhood and Kallamar with emotional needs - Heket was a good person to pester with anything else. She'd handle it - just let big sis do it. Even if she was the second youngest - it's funny how even Kallamar and Narinder would occasionally use the nickname.

Then when everyone else was dealing with their wounds, she picked up the pace and kept their respective cults from falling apart. She handled Silk cradle until Shamura could - helped with Darkwood and took over Anchordeep when Kallamar was tending to the others. No problem.

She was still loud when entering the cult. Not as much as her brother - but she loved to cause scenes. Her muteness didn't seem to hinder her at all with that. She's not allowed near knives but somehow can handle axes?

Her temper problems don't get better. She just stops being an asshole about it.

She prefers having scarfs covering her neck bandages whilst they're all bloody and disgusting.

Extra: Nothing because Heket is already perfect.

Leshy

Literally a weird insect that kept clinging to the crown until it grew big enough to hold in one hand. It bit anything that got close and by the time Shamura found it - he had started eating small critters.

And god, he kept growing and growing until he wasn't a small worm in Shamura's hand but literally too big to fit through most doors. They suspected he'd grow until the end of time. Or well, now since his crown is gone.

He never listens. He screams for fun and overshares the worst details to the point he manages to break his siblings into just accepting anything he talks about. They can't even scold him or punish him since Leshy always finds a way to make things worse for anyone else but himself.

He also copies everyone. First it was Heket's tone. Then it was Narinder's behavior - now he started growing flowers and vine braids to make fun of Kallamar and his antlers were at first a crude mimic of Shamura's pedipalps and now they grow vines to be similar to the jewels hanging from them. He refuses to acknowledge doing so.

He's very clingy. After locking away Narinder, he stayed with Shamura every day until they were out of bed rest. He follows his siblings around and when he does give them a second to breathe - hes probably laying around in Darkwood instead of doing anything productive. He does tends to plants occasionally, but he prefers "to let chaos do its thing" - as if that means anything.

He makes for a great gardener after he stopped trying to break everything upon recruitment. And once he got over growling at every living thing - he actually became one of the most well liked people living there.

Leshy knows exactly what someone needs and somehow finds a way to achieve that with the littlest of efforts. It's the thought that counts.

Extra: Braid and vines because I thought Leshy would look cute with it.

Special: The 4 bishops all wear old faith themed robes, but Shamura got the elder clothes for comfort and Leshy kept tearing his clothes apart so he is not permanently excluded from having any special outfits as punishment. Narinder wears fancy robes (who happen to be loose and warm while being special - otherwise he'd complain)

The Lamb wears one of the leaked fleeces since I loved the red riding hood aesthetic.

In the end this turned more into biographies than actual explanations but its 3:30am, Im sleep deprived and I wanted to get my thoughts out because I start having memory problems again YIPPEE

[starcurtain]

Everyone on Twitter playfully dragging Aventurine for his crop top and track pants fit, and while I agree that this is hilarious and should be meme'd into oblivion, I also can't help but think that the Aventurine fandom as a whole should definitely embrace turning "He's kind of tacky, wouldn't know a subtle outfit unless it was picked by Jade, and wears bizarrely out-of-touch fits on his days off just because he personally thinks they look cool" into an endearing fanon character trait.

Because like, canonically? It makes perfect sense.

As a child, his family didn't have the luxury of giving him a wide variety of clothes in different styles or fabrics. He wore what he could get. Then, we're only ever shown adult Kakavasha wearing rags until joining the IPC.

We know from his character stories that he was kept extremely out of the loop on world news and mainstream media as a slave and literally wouldn't know anything about clothing other than seeing it on other people.

From the time he was a child, wearing whatever his family could pull together, to the time he became an adult prisoner wearing literal scraps, there was never a need or even reasonable opportunity for him to learn about fashion or the social pressures of "dressing to fit in."

The first thing he's told to do as a member of the Stonehearts is "Go pick out new clothes," and the next time we see him, he's wearing the most peacock-esque outfit possible. When Jade told him to pick out his clothes, he literally went in completely blind with no lessons on how to appropriately dress for any adult occasion at all.

While I do think that one of the first things Aventurine would have done as a new Stoneheart is research how to establish a certain "character" for himself and how to dress to give a specific impression, I also think that Aventurine would delight in finally, finally having the power to present himself exactly as he chooses--and that would likely be very strongly informed by an entire child- and young-adulthood growing up without a single social pressure to "dress normal."

Given that he never had someone to teach him how to dress in any modern intergalactic style in his formative years, I think that it makes perfect sense for his "fashion" sense to be extremely unique to him, with little outside influence except for being strongly based on what he knows best: the luxuries the Avgin people could gather from the deserts of Sigonia-IV.

Ratio accuses him of being "flashy," but Aventurine likely loads up all his personally-picked outfits with turquoise jewels, fur trim, and gold metal accents because that's what he grew up perceiving as status symbols and signs of prosperity. Of course he's flashy! Why would he not want to wear furs and jewels now that he has them?! What do you mean wearing six gold bangles is overkill with a t-shirt? No such thing as overkill, come on!

Topaz dropping the Star Rail equivalent of "You look like what would happen if Fashion Week was themed on the yakuza and the Roaring 20s at the exact same time" every other month.

"Well, I think it looks great!"

tl;dr: Aventurine can definitely do his research and blend his outfits into any scenario if needed, but when left to his own devices, he absolutely wears the most over-the-top and/or bizarrely unmodern and "I couldn't care less what is currently trending" fits because no one ever taught him fashion sense when he was growing up, he's finally got the autonomy to dress himself in whatever he thinks looks best, and he's still a little bit drunk on the opportunity to bath in the natural luxuries he longed for but could never have as a child.

Just sayin'.

[reiderwriter]

In Case I'm Mistaken

Chapter Five of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Your first run-in with Spencer Reid since he left you so spectacularly is fraught with tension. Sexual and otherwise.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI pregnancy symptoms, morning sickness/ throwing up, fingering, rough sex, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, choking, slapping, creampie but she's pregnant already, mild case details, etc.

A/N: We're halfway through! I sincerely hope everyone enjoys how stupid and oblivious Spencer is being because I can't promise he'll wise up anytime soon lmao. If you're enjoying the series, let me know in the comments ♡

Masterlist || Add yourself to the tag list

When you left Spencer's apartment, you expected a call or a text or an email in the next three days. Penelope told you that's most likely when they'd wrap the case and when he'd be back at his apartment to see the stunt you had pulled. 

You tried to force yourself back to work in the meantime, and it almost worked. Until you had to spend three hours a day crouched over a toilet bowl, emptying your stomach lining again and again. You had spent almost a full month like that before you realised you hadn't heard from him. 

First, it was cases, then it was casework, and then it was cases again, but if probed, Spencer truly would have no idea you'd tried to get in contact with him at all. And it seemed he didn't care in the slightest.

He'd been home, but he hadn't been looking for anything out of place, so he hadn't seen anything out of place. Certainly not a bookshelf spelling out “CALL ME WHEN YOU GET THIS.” It was your choice to leave the cryptic message though, and you hadn't exactly left him any notes to say that you'd dropped by. 

But finding out you were pregnant on a night you'd half-expected to throttle the man who'd impregnated you (verbally) and then having cried on his couch with one of his very close female friends? Yeah, you were confused and lost, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. 

With emotions and hormones running high, you couldn't even tell if Spencer was purposefully ignoring you or not. 

The only saving grace in that month was your promotion. 

It literally could not have come at a better time, and you'd enjoyed signing the papers greatly knowing you'd be blindsiding your boss with a pregnancy announcement in the next three months, should you be able to carry the baby successfully to that point. 

You'd had your first check-up without a call from Spencer. You'd picked out your first baby outfit without a call from Spencer. You were pretty confident that you'd give birth to the goddamn baby without a call from Spencer. 

Which is why when you found him in your office a month later, you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck and slowly choke the life out of him. 

Between classes, you'd taken to running to the bathroom to hang your head in shame, not over morning sickness at all yet. You'd taken to keeping cereal bars and pregnancy safe snacks in your office in case you needed something else to help you power through the morning. 

That morning was worse than others, with less than half your students in attendance and still two hours to waste standing up in front of a podium - department rules. 

You'd thought you were going to expire in front of that toilet bowl, sending up your prayers as you checked your watch and realised you'd have a class again in an hour or two that you weren't fully prepped for. 

So you slinked back to your office and tried to throw yourself onto the sofa, but unfortunately for you, a large man was blocking your way. 

“Can I help you?” You eked out, voice weak but still able to convey all the annoyance you felt at the door. 

“Sorry, sorry, this is your…?" The man said, smiling down at you. You had to give it to him, the man was good looking but you just waited for him to stand aside again. 

“Do you mind?” You said, gesturing to the door you now knew the man was blocking. He wasn't letting you in for some reason, and you couldn't for the life of you figure out why. It was your goddamn office for christ's sake. Your snacks were inside. 

“Sorry, following orders.”

“Right, and whose orders would those be Mr…”

“SSA Luke Alvez,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

You'd have introduced yourself politely under any other circumstances but in reaching out his hand and giving his title, you'd seen the flash of his FBI badge on his hip and knew exactly who was behind this. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, ducking under the man's arms and slamming the door to your office open to find Doctor Spencer Reid huddled over some files, two women flanking him on either side. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

The two women looked taken aback, straightening immediately as they looked between you and Spencer. He was slow to take his eyes off whatever it was they were working on, as if playing with you once again. 

You really regretted keeping his desk around, seeing how comfortable he looked there, how normal it was for you to see him there.

“Doctor Y/N. Nice to see you again.” 

“Nice to-?” You scoffed and slammed the door once more. “Yeah. Okay.” 

One of the women quickly excused herself from the situation, almost as soon as she realised that once you'd finally locked eyes with Spencer, neither of you looked away. 

“I'm sorry to intrude, my name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I'm the Unit Chief of the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. We really wouldn't be here if it weren't an emergency.” 

You had to give it to the woman, but she caught on quickly and stepped between the two of you, breaking eye contact and forcing your attention onto her. You introduced yourself quickly. 

“Doctor Y/N Y/L/N. I trudt that if you're here, something bad has happened.” 

You noticed a flash of something as Emily shook your hand, hearing your name. It was subtle, and it was quick, but you saw her eyes flick to your stomach and then back up, and you froze. 

She knew. Penelope hadn't exactly broken your trust - you never told her to keep a secret from anyone but Spencer - but you felt your guard go back up twofold. 

“Emily, can I talk privately with Y/N for a moment?” Spencer asked, and you resisted the urge to cradle yourself, to cover whatever it was she may have seen in your appearance or the way you held yourself that became your tell. 

You wanted to tell Spencer you were pregnant, sure, but you'd wanted to tell him a month ago. Now? Now you were pissed off. 

The older woman quietly bowed out, reminding Spencer to reconvene with her in another hour. She shut the door quietly after she went, and you listened carefully to the retreating murmurs of her and the other agent down the hall until you were confident you were more or less alone. 

And then you picked up the nearest book and threw it. 

“Y/N! Listen, I can explain-” 

You threw another book, and this one hit his arm. He winced and rubbed it quickly as he flinched away from you, picking up your third weapon. 

“Explain what? Explain why you've commandeered my office for secret FBI business? Explain why you left me behind like a discarded cum rag after we had sex? Maybe you-” 

“Y/N, I had a case, I didn't want to-” You threw another book, but he batted it away this time. 

“Can we just talk like adults, please?” He stepped forward and grabbed your wrist just as you reloaded with another book, forcing the tome from your grip in a few seconds. 

“The Norton Anthology? Really? You'd bludgeon me to death with that thing.”

“It has some interesting essays on psychoanalysis and literary theory. You should be honoured that I'd even think of throwing it at you.” 

He just scowled and sat you down on the couch, following you there to sit next to you. 

“Why are you still so frustrated? I thought we moved past this- this resentment?” 

For the last few weeks, you'd hoped that Spencer was just clueless about what you were going through. That he'd been swamped with work and hadn't seen your message. But getting the confirmation in real time was winding. 

The air was knocked from your lungs, and you had to fight to fill them again, refusing to let yourself be so downright pathetic.

“What resentment did we move past exactly, Spencer? Because I remember the sex, but I do not remember your apology.”

“Why should I apologise?” The sincerity in his voice had your fingers itching to knock his lights off for him.

“Well, gee, for a starter, maybe for finding my address online and showing up to my house uninvited and unannounced.” 

“I did announce it. You just blocked my number and email.” 

You scoffed and threw yourself back in your chair. 

“Number, yes. Email? No. You sent it from an unauthorised network email. All your emails sat in my spam folder until last month.” 

He furrowed his brows at the news, but you just crossed your arms and waited for whatever he'd say next to get out of taking responsibility. 

“I'm sorry.” 

To say you weren't expecting that was an understatement. You felt so uncomfortable with the words you fidgeted in your seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. 

“Yes, well…” 

Standing, you moved to your desk and grabbed the snacks you'd come here to find, slamming your desk draw shut and keeping the desk between you, sitting in your chair. 

“We're working a case.” 

“I can tell.” 

He leant over the desk and grabbed one of your snacks, opening a cereal bar quickly and taking a bite. 

“Three of the students in our faculty have gone missing in the last 30 days.” 

You nodded as you listened, but your eyes were on your snack, in his hand, in his mouth. The bastard. 

“I need to use the office for a few days. I won't disturb you, but we need some space as a base on campus, and this is our best option.”

“Not afraid I'll walk away with critical documents this time?” 

“This time, I have everything memorised. I've read all the documents. You can't ruin the case this time.”

You stood and grabbed your snack from his hand as he lifted it to take another bite, throwing it straight into the trash can. 

“What was that for?”

“For being a jerk.”

You stomped over to your bag and pulled out your headphones, putting them on as he attempted to keep talking to you. 

“Y/N, you're being immature-” 

“You just stole my snack like it's playtime at recess, Spencer. I'm not the immature one.” 

You turned the music on as he attempted to talk to you, but you didn't budge or take them off, returning to the couch to lay comfortably once more. 

Something about the infuriating, beautiful man had you wanting to act out, reaching new levels of immaturity. 

You felt the dip in the couch as he joined you there, felt him waving in front of your face. You smiled at his growing frustration as you heard him raise his voice just slightly. 

Then, your legs were pulled out from under you, and you squeaked in shock as Spencer Reid pulled you into his lap, making you straddle him. Your eyes blew open, and you grabbed at his shirt for balance, leaving you open to his attacks as he knocked the headphones off your head. 

“You're such a…a..” 

“Jackass? Okay, sure, but I'm a jackass you're going to listen to.”

“Make me.” 

The words were a dare, a challenge you didn't think he'd rise to. But his hands snaked around your neck, and he pulled your lips down to him, silencing you completely with another angry kiss.

Your lips parted immediately, all too happy to take in his wondering tongue as you battled for dominance. His hands trailed up and down your body, cupping your ass cheeks, squeezing your already sensitive breasts, pushing your skirt up so his hands could roam underneath. 

You squirmed in his lap, memories of the last night you'd seen him rushing back. His tongue, his hands, fuck, his cock. Pregnancy hormones or just plain old lust, you wanted it all over again, and you didn't stop to think about it for a second. Any second he was kissing you was a second he wasn't talking. 

You ground your hips into his as he worked a finger into your underwear, scraping against your clit as he pulled his head away, burying it in your neck as he began nipping and licking your skin, on a mission to taste every inch of you. 

“Spencer,” You gasped as he began rubbing your clit faster, your body providing all the juices he needed to make you feel good. 

“Spencer, we should- fuck!” It'd been only minutes, but he'd already pushed you over the edge, and you died your first little death cumming on his fingers. 

“We should fuck? Yes, yeah I can get behind that,” he said, laying you down again and slowly pulling down your damp underwear. 

“That's not what I was going to say, you bastard,” you said, grabbing his tie and pulling him in for another kiss. 

“I know, but this is much better, don't you think?” He pulled away and fumbled with his pants, pulling them down only far enough to free his cock before sliding into you. He sheathed Himself inside you, pushing inch by inch until he was at your limit, and then he stopped. 

He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your neck and collarbones, he took his time with each spot, making a line down your body, a record of every place he had possessed you without moving an inch. 

“Spencer, you can't- need to-” you whined, not minding sounding like a petulant child about to throw a tantrum when he was giving you a pretty great reason to do so. 

He had eaten your snacks and now he was just keeping his cock warm inside of you, not even bothering to rub your clit anymore, his hands more focused on keeping his weight up. 

“I need to do what, Y/N? Tell me, but be quiet about it. This office isn't soundproof, remember.” 

 “Shit, shit, shit, shit-” 

You tried to roll your hips under him, to take the pleasure you needed, but he stopped you, letting his hips press deeper into yours, making himself heavy. You tried another tactic. 

“Oh, come on Spencer, you can't even fuck me properly now? Pathetic.’

“Watch it-” he said, but you cut him off again.

“Watch what? You're not doing anything. Maybe I'll ask that little friend of yours outside for some help instead, I'm sure Agent Alvez would be more than happy to-” 

A short, soft slap to your face cut your words off as he spoke, the hand that hit you immediately pushing down to your neck and squeezing lightly. 

“You're. Mine,” he spat, and started immediately rolling his hips into you quickly. 

You wrapped your legs up and around him, your hands lifting to grab his wrist, keeping his hand in place around your throat.

He fucked you harder and your breaths became shallow, eyes locked with his as he panted and writhed above you. He didn't look away. You couldn't. You were drunk on his cock, completely unable to sober up and just waiting for your orgasm to strike you once again. 

You weren't two civilised people in that room, but animals, forcing one another to submit, to give in to temptation. 

His hand on your throat came loose as he came, chest falling down to yours as he flooded your insides with cum once again. To give him credit where credit was due, he kept his cock inside of you and rubbed your clit again to completion, swallowing your every moan and whimper with a kiss, enjoying the feeling of you convulsing on his cock. 

When you were both finally done, he let himself rest on top of you, burying his head in your neck and inhaling your scent as you both dropped back down into reality. 

“Get up,” you said first, pushing him up and watching him peel out of you as you reached back to the coffee table for the box of tissues there. 

“We need to clean up,” You said attempting to tidy the cum leaking out of you away, as if it were merely a spilt drink. 

He sat up, giving his cock a wipe down before putting his clothes back together. You both sat side by side, minding your own business, making yourselves look as inconspicuous as possible and ignoring the elephant in the room. 

He broke the silence first. 

“The girls, they're all our students. The only thing they share is that they all took both of our courses.” 

Your heart dropped as you remembered he wasn't here for you, that he had other jobs and responsibilities. You were merely a pleasurable afterthought. 

“Shit,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. You stretched out and stood, sore but still able to make your body work for you. 

“You're sure there's nothing else? No clubs, no extra curricular?” His jaw tightened as he ground his teeth together, unsure about how much to tell you. 

“They fit a basic profile which tells us the unsub is killing people as a scapegoat and…hasn't got to his intended target yet.” 

You nodded as you took in the information, standing and leading yourself back to your desk and grabbing your bag again. 

“Look, just… just use the room until you get your guy. I'll work from the library or a study room or something, just…” You ran another hand through your hair, exasperated. 

“Y/N, no, we don't need to out you out, we shared the office space before, we can-” 

“We can't. Five minutes alone in this room together today proved… that we can't. Don't get distracted.” 

You grabbed more books, turning away from him to avoid the guilty looks he was shooting you. 

You'd almost collected everything, hesitating as you grabbed your pregnancy vitamins from your draw, stuffing them quickly into your bag before moving closer to the door. 

It opened before you could open it, and Emily Prentiss made herself known again. 

“Good, you're already packed,” she said, grabbing your bag from your shoulder and slinging it over her own. 

“I didn't know you all wanted rid of me so badly,” you said, trying to keep your voice as even and pleasant as possible and greatly failing. 

“We don't want to get rid of you. Y/N, I'm afraid it's quite the opposite.” 

Your heart slowed to a stop, and your blood ran cold as she offered you a sympathetic glance. You must've stumbled a bit backwards because Spencer's hand was immediately on your lower back, his body curved protectively around you as you too wrapped your arms around yourself, around your baby. 

“We've had contact with the killer, and we think you're his intended target,” Emily explained in as even a tone as you'd ever heard someone give a death sentence. 

“We've contacted WitSec, but until then, we'll be taking you into protective custody ourselves. I have a spare room, and we'll grab some of your things before you move in, everything you need to feel comfortable. Do you understand?” 

“No,” you said, but it wasn't your voice. You felt grateful, though, because you didn't understand. There was someone trying to kill you, and you absolutely didn't understand. You'd just had sex with Spencer Reid again, and you hadn't told him you were pregnant with his child, and nothing made 6 there was someone trying to kill you. 

But it wasn't your voice saying no, so you stopped thinking and kistened. 

“No, she'll… she'll stay with me,” Spencer said, gripping you tighter and pulling you closer, nearly crushing you in his arms. 

“Spencer, it's not up to you,” Emily said, her voice a clear warning even to your buzzing ears. 

“Y/N? Y/N, listen to me, please,” he said, gripping your shoulders again and twisting you around so he was all you could see, ducking his head lower so you were directly in his eyeline. 

“Y/N, I'll keep you safe. Come and stay with me.” 

You thought about his apartment and the message you'd left. You thought about the month you spent waiting for him to call, and the month that you'd spent wanting to rip his throat out. You thought about his hands on your skin, his fingers wrapped around your throat, his cock buried inside of you. You thought, too, about the doctors appointments you'd have to reschedule. You thought about the baby clothes you'd have to leave behind. You thought about how you'd have to hide your morning sickness, and your growing baby bump, and your hormones, and all the supplements recommended by your Doctor because you already loved your baby and you wanted them to be healthy. 

You thought that if you went with him, you'd have to tell him and confront whatever decision he made regarding you and the baby.

You thought logically that you shouldn't do it. But his hand grabbed yours, fingers intertwined, and he rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand, and you were nodding. 

“Yes,” you said when you should've gone with Emily. 

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and immediately bundled you out of the office and out of your comfort zone. 

🔖@stillhere197 @understandingsunrise @mindfullycriminal @aliteralsemicolon @r-3dlips @alexafromamazon15 @jasf444 @subunitless @thebloomingeagle @lackingoriginalthoughts @empressgraytea @alondralolll @i_heart_mgg @2hiigh2cry @jiuseoks @readinglatenights @placidus @dreamsarebig @pisceslovrr @kbaby-024 @luvdella @feyresqueen @pleasantwitchgarden @lovehadlovelost @kissesforspence @moonchildooh @bubbleebubz @theoraekenslover @flipsideoflife @spicyspirit @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @ivet4 @nox-xie @sarakay-gvf @miss-ev @nvrlandqueen @delicatelittleworld @nokjhg @measure-in-pain @fabulouslynerdy @batrensworld @cattosmush @im-this-girl @sarcasm-and-stiles @lovemelaunic @lllucere @lariclifford @daphnesutton

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

Join my Taglist

Part I

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house. 

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands. 

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events. 

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass. 

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No" 

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass. 

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist. 

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit. 

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish. 

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind." 

"I do," he says simply. 

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much. 

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it. 

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again. 

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal. 

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence. 

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed." 

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge. 

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?" 

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's. 

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze. 

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert. 

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath. 

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter. 

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue. 

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?" 

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops. 

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair. 

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer. 

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides. 

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes. 

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him. 

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door. 

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand. 

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it. 

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty. 

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help. 

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

@azkza @neurolept @contractedcriteria @hidden-treasures21 @sprokat @stark-red19

[g0dlyunsub]

can u do Spencer x fem reader where he's away on a case and she is super sick but doesn't tell him bc she doesn't want him to worry and he ends up coming home early and surprises her but she is still soo sick and he feels so bad that she felt like she couldn't tell him and takes care of her and is just so sweet with her!

yess! i loved writing this one so much 😳

doctor's orders.

you fall sick and decide not to disturb spencer during his working hours. when he returns home, he demands that he takes care of you, and you realize how adept he is at fondling the soreness out of you.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

contents :: slightly suggestive :3 lots of fluff, spencer calls reader a good girl once

word count :: 2.5k

author’s note :: spencer would literally be so gentle when taking care of you, it actually makes me sick to the core just thinking about how his nimble fingers would brush back your hair when it sticks to your sweaty forehead arghhh

accompanying song :: sugar by unusual demont

you struggle to keep your balance as you attempt to walk from the couch to the fridge. everything’s a warped blur, and you flail your arms helplessly to catch yourself from leaning too far to one side. but your head’s pounding relentlessly while a faint high-pitched ringing echoes through your ears; a burning sensation’s spreading through your back like a wildfire and your throat’s clenching with a throbbing pain every time you swallow. soon you’re on the ground, your hands fully taking in the coldness of the bare floor. you take labored breaths as you try to compose yourself, mentally counting backwards from ten as you try to lift yourself up but to no avail.

you haven’t felt this sick in a while, and you curse your own body for the painful reminder. you wince as you rest your head on your arm briefly, finally gathering some strength to push yourself off the floor. a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, and you sigh weakly as you try to stabilize yourself.

the muscle pain, fatigue, congestion, sore throat, and fever – they’re a handful, and you know the symptoms would eventually subside with some home remedies and time, but it barely helps when you can only move by half-crawling and resting your hand on the wall every other step. 

and you don’t want to bother spencer about it. he left you early in the morning, but not without fixing you a cup of tea and some scrambled eggs. you were still in bed, blissfully unaware of the symptoms marinating as you slept. and while he’s always told you to text or call him even if it was for a minor inconvenience, you feel bad for taking his time away from something that would easily overtake priority on anyone else’s list – murders, kidnappings, and hostage situations, just to name a few. yet you feel like you’re really testing the waters this time, clearly overestimating your ability to deal with your troubles when you’re clearing the contents of your stomach in the bathroom.

you drag yourself to the kitchen to pour a glass of cold water and gulp it down with tylenol from spencer’s medicine cabinet. it quickly quenches your thirst, and you carelessly drop the glass on the table with a loud thud. you groan as you place a hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. it’s scorching hot, and combined with the sweat, you feel as if your body will give out any moment.

you wipe your hands on your sides and whisper a soft oh. right. you had attempted to surprise your boyfriend with a pretty outfit, wearing a dress with thick lines of lace and mesh sleeves. but the silky layers were insulating all the heat in you, stinging your delicate skin and suffocating you slowly. you can barely lift your arms to take it off, so you give up and lie on the couch. bringing your knees to your chest, you curl up and try to think of anything but your pain.

spencer opens the door with a large grin plastered on his face, eager to greet you back with a tight embrace. he’s carrying a small basket with cookies and heart-shaped packing peanuts scattered all around them, a purchase he scoured for hours at the local plaza after asking garcia what she thinks you would enjoy. 

“y/n? guess what!” he walks into the living room with an energetic step, only to stop when he spots you groggily waking up on the couch, your face deeply red and hot puffs of air leaving your mouth in the form of short pants. 

spencer drops everything to the ground and runs over to you, the heart-shaped foams rolling everywhere on the ground and ricocheting off the front skirt of the furniture. 

“y/n – what happened?” your boyfriend squeezes his arms into the thin space underneath your body, repositioning you so your neck can lie on the padded cushions of the armrest. you whine in pain as you turn to face him, your half-closed eyelids twitching as you try to keep them open. 

“hurts,” you wince, and your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. you’re miserable that this is the state that you’re in, pain jolting through every inch of your body, leaving you a writhing mess in your man’s unwavering hands.

“shh, let me take care of you,” spencer murmurs with a gentle tone, one that’s higher-pitched and soothes you instantly like a massage. he stuffs a cushion under the nape of your neck and props each of your legs up on the other sidearm before wiping your forehead sweat with the back of his hand. his slightly musky and sudsy smell makes you lean into his touch, an intoxicating distraction from the torment of your numbing pain.

“did you dress up like this all for me?” he asks you, his fingers softly brushing back your hair as he examines your outfit. you let out an indecipherable string of words, discomfort flooding into the back of your throat as you attempt to speak.

spencer stands and heads to the medicine cabinet, where he pulls out a thermometer and makes quick strides back to the couch.

“open,” he demands lightly, and you slightly part your lips as he brings the thermometer to your tongue. you slowly close your mouth, feeling the cool tip turn warm under your muscle as you wait for the beep to ring.

when it does, spencer checks your temperature with a concentrated expression, which soon morphs into marked concern. you blink at him slowly, all the while his hands rake through your hair in a rhythmic motion. 

he stands once again, disappearing into his room before coming back shortly with one of his t-shirts and a pair of your shorts hanging loosely from his arm. 

“you need to change, y/n. as beautiful as you look with this dress, it’s interfering with your body’s ability to thermoregulate.” 

you weakly sigh in response, slowly reaching for his shirt as you inhale his familiar scent. you hug his shirt for a little while longer, and spencer has to remind you to change with a soft tap of your hand.

with the help of your boyfriend’s arms, you sit up slowly and start to shrug the sleeves off of your shoulders, to which spencer instantly looks away. he clears his throat as you slip out of your dress and pull up your navy shorts, and he diverts his attention by deciding to pick up the fallen foams instead. after you hastily throw the shirt over your head, you sink back onto the couch and feel an instant sensation of relief as the heat radiating from your body meets the cool air.

spencer’s face is a deep red this time when he looks back to see that the edge of his shirt’s folded in on itself, thereby exposing your stomach in plain view. he hesitantly reaches for the hem and drags it down to cover you, and his hand hovers over your waist for a brief second. 

“i’ll be back,” he briefly states before moving back into the kitchen, where he pours a cold glass of water for himself. he takes off his cardigan and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, before reaching his hands into the sink and splashing his face with water. he has no idea how you manage to capture his attention so effortlessly, leave him desperate for air as if he’s the one that’s sick. he bites the inside of his cheek as the image of your flushed face and exposed torso gnaws at his thoughts.

the things you do to him.

he returns to you with an electrolyte drink in his hand, which he uncaps and brings to the bottom of your lips. you take slow gulps as he lays his hand at the base of your neck and helps you to lean back for easier access. once you’re done, he wipes the wet corner of your lips before screwing the cap back on again. 

“you didn’t take your acetaminophen, um, tylenol, with dayquil did you?” he asks as he sets the drink on an adjacent table and turns back to face you. you shake your head no and his shoulders relax as he comes down on his knees next to you.

“good girl,” he hums, and you worry your face is even redder than before -- if that’s even possible. your heart races when he utters those words, and you shift your gaze to the ceiling in unanticipated nervousness. you thank yourself for falling sick when you feel your cheeks turn a shade of pomegranate red, and it feels like your skin is singed from your own emotional response.

“are you hurting anywhere else?” he asks you, and you briefly close your eyes as you try to register a way to explain your pain to him. when your eyelids open, spencer’s tender gaze meets your tear-soaked orbs. 

“everywhere,” you gasp. as soon as you speak, you feel an acidic taste bubble up your esophagus, causing you to gag. 

“spence, i- i’m gonna vomit-” you barely manage to let out as you rush to the bathroom, bending over to throw up.

spencer’s right hand gathers your hair and lightly bundles them up in a makeshift ponytail, while his left picks up the stray strands of hair that manage to escape his large grip. you stretch your arm so your sweaty palm presses against the wall, and you grip tightly when illusory stars dizzy your vision.

when you finish, he helps you to slowly get up, one hand on your waist and the other holding your arm as he guides you back to the couch.

you soon feel the tears start to fall, leaving wet speckles on your boyfriend’s arm. he brushes them away as he cups your face, reassuring you with words of comfort.

“it’s okay, you can take all the time you need,” he whispers, worriedly pursing his lips as he surveys your rosy cheeks, tear-stained eyes, and irritated nose. 

when you lay back, a layer of sweat presses against your back and his gauzy shirt sticks to your skin like hot glue. spencer's gentle hand rubs up and down your shoulder, before it drags halfway down the trail of your arm.

even more softly, your boyfriend suggests, “do you want to try some acupuncture? while we wait for your body to clear the infection, we can try to reduce your symptoms through natural techniques. there are various acupoints for exogenous fever, and it might help to apply some pressure there.” 

you nod slowly. at this point, you’re willing to try anything to relieve even the smallest ounce of pain. spencer takes the opportunity to lift you in a sitting position once again, turning you to sit facing away from him. 

he then lifts a thumb and approaches your back, finding the indentation just below the bump of the middle of your spine. when he lightly applies pressure, a whimper leaves your lips and you lightly grip the sides of the couch. he wordlessly repeats this three more times before moving up to the nape of your neck, where he applies pressure in a circular motion. a defeated groan escapes your throat as you’re weighed down with his intolerable tenderness. you try to withhold yourself, to lump your sounds in your lungs like they’re a clot, but it’s a feeble attempt, one that encourages spencer to keep going. but he knows. despite how unfiltered and raw your cries are, they are not desire, not in that sense.

“acupuncture… it’s an excellent way to promote blood circulation as it stimulates flow through the body. targeting certain acupoints could help to reduce congestion, as well as relieve headaches and neck pains that are often associated with fever," he muses as he moves further down your spine again, lightly applying force in areas that soon subside from burning pain into relief. 

spencer feels that there's a sense of logic to the way you move underneath his touch; the way your chest heaves euphorically in and out, the way you gulp for air between the rubs, and the way you shudder quietly. all of it fascinates him.

“but,” your boyfriend breaks his short-lived silence, “that’s not what i want to talk about right now." spencer lightly grunts as he shifts his weight by kneeling on one knee, placing his hand on your forehead to check your temperature again.

“i want you to explain why you didn’t text or call me.” his tone is a cautionary one, and it makes you slightly nervous.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. and… i wanted to surprise you,” you truthfully reply, avoiding his gaze.

he lightly chuckles before playfully poking your cheek.

“forget about the surprise. any time you’re sick like this, i need you to tell me. okay?” he taps each of his fingers across your arm and your hand lightly twitches with the gentle contact.

when you don’t respond, he raises a brow at you.

“that’s an order, y/n.” 

you dispiritedly return a yes before he nods in approval. 

“you look beautiful regardless of what you wear, y/n.” he makes sure not to come too close to you when he speaks, aware his warm breath could make it uncomfortable for you.

“you don’t have to lie, i look terrible right now.” you try to look away, but his gaze follows you as you move.

“what are you saying?" he frowns. "you’re so strikingly beautiful, it hurts when i have to see you in pain. i hate seeing you sick like this because you smile less. and i love seeing you smile,” he speaks dreamily, his lovestruck eyes glazing over yours like the two of you are interchanging blessings.

“okay, doctor reid,” you say half-sarcastically, but you smile when his thumb grazes your cheek. spencer grins in response and buries his face into your neck, his soft hair tickling against your cheek. you burst out laughing, but your sudden movements cause your face to contort into pain as you cough.

spencer pulls back almost instantly, laying a hand on your shoulder and telling you to breathe. when you both recollect your breaths, he gets up and stretches his arms.

“tell me when you’re feeling ready for a bath, i’ll set it up for you.”

he stands beside you, watching as your chest rises up and down with your timed breaths. you smile contently before lightly pinching the side of his trousers.

“but i want to keep this shirt,” you say coyly, admiring the softness of the fabric as you trace the edges of the embroidered fbi logo.

you look up to see spencer blush as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“i’ll have a new change of my clothes for you.”

he then stoops to take away your now lukewarm cup of water before disappearing into the kitchen.

the things you do to him.

[kiromiix]

love4eva

wc: 5.7k

cw: modern au, high school/ college au (goes back and forth) football player bakugou, childhood friends to lovers / enemies to lovers(?) angst (kinda) eventual smut. not proofread bc I'm lazy, sorry if theres any mis spells.

-----

you and bakugou's friendship had always been a bit weird? your mothers were friends when they were younger and they never grew apart, you and bakugou being forced to grow up together and naturally became friends. Most people wouldn't expect you to be friends since you were complete opposites, you with a bubbly and bright personality while him on the other hand wasn't that friendly and was only really popular because of his good looks and the fact he was on the football team but beside that you two had a close bond nobody could come between..

senior year of high school~

"y/n!! hurry up were going to be late" Ochaco exclaimed, you mina and ochaco were all hanging out getting ready to go to the first football game of the season, "yes yes hold on guys I can't find a cute outfit to wear" you said, you've been looking for a good outfit to wear for the past 15 minutes even though the theme was neon you just couldn't seem to find any cute neon colors in your closet. "ugh y/n just wear this !" mina said while tossing you a bright pink off the shoulder shirt, "okay okay I'm ready lets go.." you said while throwing the shirt on.

Ochaco was on driving duty tonight as she was probably the best driver out of you three, you were all in the car blasting music singing along to the loud pop music you all liked. "y/n is bakugou playing tonight?" mina asked "oh uhm I don't really know.." you lied. you knew he was playing tonight but for a while now the girls have been teasing you about how close you are with bakugou, although you've always been close now that your both older the girls are convinced your secretly dating or something.

The car pulled into the back lot of school driving around in circles looking for a parking spot, as you all got out and made your way to the student section of the bleachers. You all met up with some more of your friends pushing your way to get to the front of the stands.

As the game went on you guys were 25-2 as of right now, most of your friends were mainly chatting it up and taking photos using the football game as just another hangout place. While you in the other hand couldn’t take your eyes off the field, carefully watching the blonde boy in the jersey number 53, he was the schools star player even with his bad attitude and snappy comments towards everyone they all still loved him and praised him, with him on the team their was no chance of losing the game.

and of course you guys won the game, no surprise to anyone.

“y/n !! come on we’re all going out to eat” Mina said while trying to grab your arm, “hold Mina I can meet you guys there, I’ll be back” you said while flashing them a smile and walking towards the middle of the field, where you found bakugou chugging down water with his teammates surrounding him. “hey good job on scoring the winning point” you said as you got closer to him, “yea well what’d you expect, I always win” he said while smirking and walking up to you as you rolled your eyes at his snarky remark, “kirishima and ida said they were leaving with the girls for food, why didn’t you go?” the blonde boy said while using a towel to wipe the sweat dripping off his face, “oh well I knew you wouldn’t go unless I quite literally came and grabbed you..so here I am” you said while shrugging and kicking at the dirt, he looked up at quirking a eyebrow and shoving his stuff in his bag, you knew bakugou and you knew how complicated he could be, even though you’ve known him for 18 years now, he was still difficult to read. “sooo do you wanna go? I mean you did win it should be a victory celebration” you said while awkwardly smiling, “okay yes I’ll go but only to get you to shut up” he said while getting up and walking away, you just looked down and started following him.

You and Bakugou walk into the pizza shop all your friends were meeting in, “y/n !!! You finally made it!! ” Mina said enthusiastically while running up to you and pulling you in a hug, “oh and you're here to bakugou, congrats on winning” the pink haired girl said while glancing at bakugou. She grabbed your arm and started walking towards the table, bakugou following behind. As you settled down next to Mina, Bakugou squeezed himself in-between you and dinky.

You could hear the boys having they're own separate conversations about the game and just other random stuff as you and the girls talked.

"so y/n.. are you going to prom with anyone?" mina said while picking around at her pizza, "guys come on that's not until like two months, I think I have some time.." you said while sipping on your bubbly soda, Even though it was only your guys junior year your friends were so set on making prom some big thing, and your just played along without complaint to make things easier for them.

"well what about you guys? have you thought of asking any girls to prom yet?" mina said while turning to face the boys, she’s always been so blunt with her questions making sure she got all the gossip, why's she so stuck on this prom thing right now.. you thought to yourself, but you couldn't help yourself from being a little curious on what a particular blonde had to say about her question.

"yea right I'm not asking anyone" he said while scoffing.

of course he's not.

"come on bakugou! they're has to be one girl you think is attractive" dinky said while shoving his shoulder.

"no! why would I waste my time on having to worry about some stupid girl"

apart of you was just a bit disappointed in how he answered.

As the night ended and everyone was walking out the pizza place you and bakugou walking side by side, "hey did you bring your car?" he asked you, "hm?, no I didn't I left it at my house..mina drove us." you said while fiddling with your dangling phone charm, "ill give you a ride let's go." the blonde boy said while walking ahead pulling out his car keys.

The whole ride back to your house was mainly silent, Just some comments here and their as he blasted his music, you knew that bakugou didn't like to talk that much after his football games, you could never quite figure out if It was because he was tired or he just wanted some silence.

"what are you doing tomorrow?" you ask looking up from your phone,

"hm? nothing, why?" he answered, eyes moving to glance over at you.

"lets go to the mall, I need to look for some things I need." you say even though it was partially just a excuse to see him on a weekend.

"ok I'll pick you up at 3." the blonde says while pulling into your driveway.

As you pulled into your driveway, you took your keys out of your purse unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out the car, bakugou following you to the steps of your front door which he never did, usually he would just pull to the sidewalk and say goodbye as you got out the car. He followed you up to the steps of your house before grabbing you by the waist and pressing his lips against yours.

the kiss was short, as he quickly let go before muttering a soft "sorry." and getting back into the car and driving off, leaving you shocked on your front porch.

He didn't pick you up the next day to go with him to the mall.

chapter one end.

ok !!! this concludes chapter one of love4eva!!! (pls be nice this is my first ff) anywayyy yes a cliff hanger. and if your wondering why he's kissing them already well it ties into the plot of the college arc and it will all make sense later *wink wink*plus this is taking place at senior year and reader and bakugou have known each other since forever so its not like he jus met her lolsies. Well I hope you like it and I already have chapter 2 half way finished ^^

[lowkeyrobin]

still so disappointed that mr pennycrumb [fives dog in the comics] didnt rlly appear much in the show </3

ok ok so its the academy's birthday and the reader is insanely good at gift giving and never forgets to give presents if theres smth special happening. they hand out the gifts to everyone except they avoid five and disappear w/o them knowing where they went, only to come back at dusk w/ a larger box. obviously five went insane and rambles on how worried he was before the reader finally shuts him up by plopping the box on him, and boom. theres a puppy.

[loved the last viktor fic btw. literally bawled my eyes out]

- 🦇

OMG YES the only appearance we saw was in s3 when Luther went on a jog before he got napped :( ; and thank you!! I got bored and I couldn't extend it any further so it's kinda dumb but it's alr haha ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also sorry this is so short and dumb idk writers block is so picky

FIVE HARGREEVES ; mr pennycrumb

summary ; when the umbrella academys birthdays roll around, you get five a whole ass dog

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; some of the gifts are related to hobbies/interests that are more of hcs than actual canon

word count ; 738

masterlist

When you walked into Allison's with multiple boxes and bags for the Hargreeves, they all knew you were at it again with your insane yet accurate gift giving. They started with cake, then moved over to presents.

Gift giving in the family was like secret Santa in a way. Everyone would essentially get gifts for all the others, and they'd pass around gifts one by one, usually by number order. Luther was always first, Viktor always last. Lila usually snuck in around Diego, because duh. Viktor had gotten used to being last, the forgotten one. But around his family now, he knew it wasn't like that anymore. He'd rather go last so everyone else could have their special time on their special day.

So, the group sets the gifts tagged for Luther on the table in front of him. The kids halfway watch from afar, paying attention to the TV and their toys more than their celebrating parents, aunts, and uncles.

You were among the minority in the house that didn't share a birthday with them, thank God. You would've gone insane over big birthdays like this.

Five, meanwhile, was going insane over you basically ignoring him all day.

You'd gotten Luther some workout gear, knowing he'd taken up going to the gym within the past couple of years. Among other gifts were little trinkets and other things he wanted. He was a little hard to shop for, never really wanting anything, enjoying the quality time over any gift giving.

Next was Diego, and inside the gift you got for him, was a knife sharpening kit. He'd lost his old one just in time. Lila came up next, receiving a few nice outfits you found for her and a gift card to Cosmoprof, as she'd been thinking about re-dyeing her hair to white again.

Next up was Allison, grateful for the numerous acting job business cards you'd given her on top of a bunch of books that were on her Amazon wishlist. She was a serious reader who wanted to get back into acting, now.

Klaus was after her, ecstatic about a carry-around cleaning kit. You were going to go with a joint maker to make his life easier before he got sober. Now he wouldn't need a full bag of cleaning supplies, he'd have your perfect gift.

Five decided to go last, wanting to watch his family be happy more than open presents himself.

Ben was next, receiving some letters from modeling agencies. As he should.

Viktor was second to last, very appreciative for the new drink recipes you'd made and found for him atop the pile of clothes you'd gotten him.

You disappeared around dusk, leaving Five to open his presents without presence. He was physically eighteen, mentally sixty-two today.

As he looks up, seeing the lack of you around, he hides a soft frown. He noticed how you weren't standing near him all night, how you barely even spoke around him.

"Did you do something to Y/n?" Klaus asks out of the blue. "They just kinda... dissappeared"

Five shrugs. "I don't think I did. Even if I did do something, they'd talk it out with me"

Allison shrugs. "I think that's them" she comments, looking out the screen door to see you pull up in your car again. "Diego, could you get the door?"

Diego turns around, unlocking the door for you, holding it open as he sees you holding a big box.

"Why is that box bigger than you?"

"Also, why is it moving?"

You set the box on the table in front of Five, a wide smile on your face. "Open it"

He slowly sets aside the large box of coffee pods he received from Diego to the side, slowly reaching for the box flaps. As he pulls them to the side, out jumps a little dog.

"Oh my God?"

Five smiles, pulling the puppy into his lap. He looks up at you, a glimmer in his eyes. "Why did you get me a dog?"

You shrug, moving the box off the table. "You're a lonely old man, you need some company"

He chuckles, petting the pug's head.

"What're you gonna name it?" Ben asks, arms crossed.

"Him" You correct

"Mr. Pennycrumb" Five answers.

"Why?" Luther asks.

The physically younger boy shrugs. "Why not?"

"Interesting choice" Klaus mutters with a shrug.

Five smiles up at you, giddy like a little kid. "Thank you"

"I try"

[dilfstar]

daddy dearest

realdad!leon x daughter!reader 3k words. warnings ! incest, forced ddlg, infantilization, slight coercion, drugging, fingering, oral (f), piv, daddy kink, loss of virginity, creampie notes ! mega super awesome thank you 2 @localkiss for the idea and so much of this... wouldn't be able 2 do it without U i love u 🙏 ignore how fast the pills kicked in... just go w it ☹️

You were old enough to move out, get a job, live on your own, be an adult. But he had other plans. What kind of father would he be if he let his sweet, innocent daughter out into the cruel, harsh world? Where people could get you, men could grope you, ruin you! Just the thought of it made his skin crawl…

Leon made sure you stayed home, safe, and tucked away in your childhood bedroom. The walls were still painted in a light pink. Though, the decor was more reminiscent of a 5-year-old's room. Toys and coloring books were everywhere, with stuffed animals watching your every move. Yikes.

All of your old clothes were thrown out, too mature for his liking. What? Was he supposed to let his little girl wear next to nothing around the house? What if he had company over! His friends would eye-fuck you into the next century!

It wasn't like you didn't try to fight it or leave. You just couldn't. He put stuff in your food. You know he does. But how are you supposed to stop him when you can barely walk long enough to get to the bathroom on time? Your legs were turned into useless sticks from all the pills he snuck into your food!

He lived in some kind of delusion. Some made-up world where what he's doing to you was good for you, saving you. Fucking freak! You're his daughter! Not some random girl he met on the street, not some fucked-out whore he picked up from a bar. His child, his own flesh and blood. What kind of dad fucks their own daughter?

A good one! At least according to his definition of the term. A good dad should fuck his daughter’s brains out, leave her full of cum and barely conscious. It's his right. He deserves this after all the years taking care of you!

He didn't really care how you felt about the situation. Why would you be thinking about it in the first place? You're just his dumb little baby, too high to even eat on your own. You needed Daddy for everything. You needed him to feed you, change you into your cute little outfits, bathe you, fuck you until your body gave out. 

He ruined you. Leon took and took and took until you were nothing, just a doll for him to use and abuse with his twisted fantasies. He was a sick, sick man. A sick, twisted man you still loved. More than anything in the world. How could you possibly hate him? He's your daddy! He's just looking out for you.

It all happened so fast. Starting from a simple movie night with your dad. A few too many beers making you a little too needy, clinging to him like you did when you were little. The way you rested on him, used him as a pillow. Oh, it made his heart squeeze!

Your voice was so soft as you cuddled up to him, mumbling Daddy over and over. Leon raked his hands through your hair as you laid your head on his lap, so, so close to his dick. The way you wiggled around so much made it so difficult for him to keep it together. Such a tease, just like your mother.

Maybe that's why he loved you so much. You looked just like her, after all. Same hair, same nose, same lips… He needed you. He needed you so badly that it hurt. His cock ached, craving something warm around it. Something tight. Something perfect, like you.

You would be the best thing, right? I mean, you’re literally made just for him. Meant to be used as his personal fleshlight. The thought of any other guy touching you made him sick to his stomach. He deserved to be the only one! That's when it all clicked inside his head—the perfect plan coming together.

Leon carried you up to your old room, setting you down on the twin-sized bed like a princess, tucking you in with a gentle kiss on the lips. You tasted so sweet, like the strawberry chapstick you always put on. “My beautiful angel… All mine…”

He planted another kiss on your forehead before leaving, running down the stairs to the garage to get some boxes of your old toys and clothes. He had to get everything set up while you were asleep, so you could wake up to your (his) dream!

Your head was pounding the next morning, the sunlight coming in through the window not helping. The sudden attack of pink woke you up instantly. Every single inch of the room you were in looked like a little girl's dream come true. The number of stuffed animals and dolls around you made your eyes burn.

You looked down at the outfit you were wearing, a shocked gasp falling from your lips. What could've possibly happened last night for you to be wearing something straight out of a Justice catalog? In what world would you willingly put on something this childish? 

The door opened, revealing a smiling Leon carrying a tiny cup in his hand, a few pills in the other. “Hey, sweetheart… ’m glad you're awake. Was starting to get worried! Here, I brought you some medicine. Should help with your headache…” 

He handed them over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you swallow the pills. His stare was focused directly on your body, as if he wanted to pounce on you and attack. It all felt so off, so nauseating. Why was your dad staring at you like a piece of meat? Why did you wake up to all of this?

The room started to spin, your vision blurring as your head hit the pillow behind you. Everything felt so hazy, like a fog rolled into the room, blocking all of it from your view. “Dad… Daddy… What’s happenin’...?”

Leon crawled over to you, pulling back the fluffy comforter, revealing your bare legs underneath. He had to bite back a groan; the sight of you, his daughter, so vulnerable made him feel crazy. His hands moved up your legs slowly, inching towards your inner thighs, pulling them apart to reveal the pink and white polka-dot panties covering your core. He leaned in, inhaling your scent like it was the antidote to an illness he'd been suffering from forever.

“Shh… Just rest… “Daddy's here.” He mumbled, his breathing shallow and fast. His fingers looped underneath the waistband of your panties, gently pulling them off and pocketing them. He needed something for later!

He poked and prodded at your cunt, smiling like a perv at how perfect you looked. The light touches, mixed with his soft breaths sent chills down your spine. Your hips bucked as he brushed against your clit, disgust immediately washing over you. Why was he touching you like this? Why did you like it?

“Need t’see if my girl is a virgin… Make sure she saved herself for me…” He placed his thumb on your clit, pressing down gently, groaning at the way you shuddered from the slight contact. This shouldn't be turning you on. He's your dad, for crying out loud!

He spit on your pussy, eyes twinkling as the glob of saliva dripped down your slit. His fingers moved down to your hole, mixing the spit with your juices as he pushed a digit in. He started with slow, simple movements, soon adding another finger, and then another. 

They moved inside of you so painfully slowly that you wanted to scream at him to move faster! But whatever he gave you earlier made your tongue feel so heavy, your arms and legs felt like 40-pound weights were tied to them. All you could do was let your dad tease you like some jerk.

“Seems like you did… You did so well… I think you deserve a reward, yeah?” He pulled his hand away, causing a small whimper to escape from you. He stared up at you so sweetly, as if you were a princess awakening from a years long slumber. 

Leon leaned down, immediately diving into you. His nose bumped against your clit as he ate you like a starved man at a buffet. His tongue thrust inside of you, lapping at your wetness like an animal. He groaned into your cunt, loving the way you tasted. If he was on death row and got offered his last meal? It would be you.

“‘m close… So close…” You whined, desperately trying to squeeze your legs around his head, still feeling too fuzzy to move a muscle. All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and move your head, your body feeling too much like it was encased in cement. How were you already so sensitive? It’d barely been 5 minutes, and you were this close? 

The room felt like it was spinning again; all of your nerves felt like they were on fire. Pleasure shot up your spine, exploding in your head like a fireworks display. The word Daddy fell from your soft lips like a mantra. Your mouth could only form the one word, your brain filled with thoughts of him. Your breath hitched in your throat as you came, eyes shooting open and rolling to the back of your head. “S’too much… Too much! No more…”

He sat you on his lap like usual, grabbing a spoonful of whatever mushed-up food was on the pink plate in front of you, bringing it to your mouth while making airplane noises. Your mouth fell open like usual, allowing him to shove the head of the spoon in. He wasn’t a bad cook, no. He was just weird. Weird for making you act like a little girl at your age, weird for turning you into a toy.

You just wanted your old life back, when you had friends and other people to talk to. Acting like a kid wasn’t exactly the most fun thing a girl could do. Though you didn’t necessarily hate some of the attention he gave you. How fucked up is that? Liking the way your own dad touches you? What kind of sick freak acts like- Oh. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

He frowned at the way you denied the food, the dull look in your eyes. Why couldn't you just be good for him and eat it? Why did you always have to fight him on this? 

The plastic spoon hit the plate, food flying off it onto the table. His hand moved to your face impossibly fast, fingers digging into your cheeks, squeezing them together as he turned you to face him. “What did I say about acting bratty, hm? No treats for disobedient little girls.”

His grip on you was bruising, his nails digging into your skin, sure to leave crescent-shaped marks. The way he stared into your eyes terrified you. Anger hiding behind his blue irises. He was pissed. He was beyond pissed. Why couldn't you just listen?

“I told you not to do this again. Remember what happened last time? Y’wanna do that again? Sure seems like you do…” Your eyes widened as memories of that night flashed through your mind. The bruises he left all over, the red marks on your ass—how you couldn't sit properly for a week! The threat made you curl into yourself on his lap like a small child being yelled at for stealing from the cookie jar.

He released his grip on you, patting your cheek lightly with a sickly grin. Leon pulled down on your chin, opening your mouth enough to shove the spoon in again, making sure you swallowed the food. “Now, there's a good girl… So good for Daddy, yeah?”

He held onto your jaw as you ate, making sure you couldn't refuse him more. What kind of daughter disobeys their dad? Bad ones. What happens to bad daughters? They get punished.

His punishments were cruel, just meant to be pleasurable only to him. Spanking you with his belt, tying you to your bed, taking away your toys. His favorite was fucking you until you passed out! The way your eyes fluttered shut, how you went limp in his arms. God, he loved it. He loved how scared you were of him, the look of pure fear in your eyes was enough jack-off material to last for weeks!

His fingers curled inside of you, squeezing against the spot that made you see stars. Your head was spinning. Every inch of your body was on fire. “Daddy… I can't do any more… Please!!” You squealed, crushing his wrist between your thighs.

Your hands gripped the pink sheets beneath you for dear life, holding on as if you were about to fall off the side of a building. Bliss shot up your spine, filling you with a feeling of delight and pure disgust. All because of your dear, sweet father.

He smirked down at you, the sight of you writhing underneath him sent all the blood to his cock, the pajama pants he was wearing suddenly feeling a little too tight. “That's it… There's my girl… Y’think you're big enough to take me yet? Think you're ready for me, baby?”

Yes, God, yes! You wanted to scream it, let the world know you wanted to get fucked by your dad! But sadly, all you could do was nod. You looked like a stupid bobblehead toy, silently begging him to rail you into the next universe. None of it mattered when you had him, though. 

He chuckled at how enthusiastic you were, leaning forward to place a tender kiss on your lips, tongue rubbing against your bottom one, asking to be let in. You deepened the kiss, arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him in close. His hand left your soaked cunt, wiping itself on his pants before moving to the back of your head. He slotted himself between your legs, rutting against your heat as he made out with you. 

His free hand snuck down to his pants, pushing them and his boxers down just enough to pull his dick out. Leon pulled back from the kiss to look down, smirking at how wet you were. He looked up at you for a moment, a sympathetic look in his blue eyes. “This is gonna hurt for sec… Promise I'll be as gentle as I can…” And with that, he slowly pushed in. His head fell at how wonderful you felt around him, like you were already shaped perfectly for his cock.

“S’okay… I’ve got you.” The stretch absolutely burned. It felt like you were in some medieval torture device. At least the drugs he had you doped up on dulled some of the pain…

He moved his hand back to your clit, thumb moving in small circles, trying to make it at least a little more pleasurable for you. He pushed and pushed, inching in slowly until he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His chest heaved as he caught his breath for a moment, the whole situation now overwhelming him. “I’m gonna move now, ‘kay?”

With a small, comforting smile, he pulled back, shoving into you all at once. His thrusts started slow as you adjusted to his size, trying to be careful with you, terrified to hurt you. How could he live with himself if he hurt you without meaning to? Punishments were one thing… But actually harming you? It’d kill him!

Once he fell into a nice rhythm, all rational thoughts flew out the window. The fear of hurting you was gone, he couldn't care less about it now. It was like a switch flipped inside his head. Your walls just squeezed him too perfectly, clamping down on him like a vice.

It all felt so perfect, like it finally made sense. The disgust that was in you melted away at the feeling of him pounding away at you, just using you for what he wanted. It sent your heart into overdrive, the organ beating against your ribcage. Your head dropped back onto the mountain of pillows behind you, cushioning it while you let your father take advantage of you.

He felt like a teenager again, like he did before he met your mother. She was a good fuck, sure, and he did love her, but it just never felt as good as this. Nothing could ever compare to you, to how you felt around him. The way your velvety walls hugged him so wonderfully made his heart flutter in his chest. 

“Daddy… Daddy! S’too much… Can't do it… I-I can't!” You whined, shaking your head from side to side like you were throwing a tantrum. You felt too sensitive, his touches too much for your body to handle. The coil inside of you felt like it was about to snap, like it was about to explode! You didn't know if you could last much longer, and neither did he. His pace got sloppy the closer he got, hips stuttering inside of you.

He finally stilled as thick, hot spurts of cum coated your walls, painting them in a milky white. You squeezed around him, cunt refusing to let him go. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, legs twitching around his waist, accidentally pulling him in impossibly closer. You whined involuntarily as he pulled out, feeling too empty inside without him. He almost came again at the sight of his cum dripping out of you, staining the sheet below. 

“You okay, baby? Are you hurtin’ anywhere?” He checked over you frantically, looking into your eyes like a madman. All you could do in return was give him a sloppy, fucked out smile. A smile that made all the worry in him dissolve. He crawled off the bed, snaking his arms around you bridal style, carrying you off to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

[genericpuff]

The Derivative Fashion Sense of Lore Olympus

So I'm usually out here going Gordon Ramsay on Rachel's ass about her writing and art, but for this unsolicited essay I will be wearing a different hat.

Yep, we're going Miranda Priestly today. Specifically the Miranda Priestly who talks fashion, not the Miranda Priestly who abuses employees lmao (though rest assured, I'm gonna have a lot of curt words throughout this).

Disclaimer: I am not at all an expert on fashion, these are just my thoughts and observations from studying fashion styles as part of my own artistic journey, so as always, take what I have to say with loads of salt. I also realize the irony that I am addressing the derivative nature of Lore Olympus when I, myself, am creating a derivative retelling of Lore Olympus.

Alright, enough small talk.

There's this general misconception in runway fashion that all those "impractical outfits" are meant to be worn by the average person, people such as myself who see these outfits and go "what the fuck do you mean Lady Gaga wore a dress made out of meat?!" When we see these crazy fits, our first impression is often "Why would anyone wear that?"

Well, because they aren't outfits. They're art pieces.

And not only are the outfits themselves art pieces, but the people wearing them are the canvases. These outfits aren't designed for just anyone to wear, especially not your average Joe, they're designed both with the artist's vision as well as the model in mind. A lot of thought, expression, cultural influences, and personal messaging is sewn into these designs.

Think about it this way, you couldn't take that aforementioned Gaga meat dress and put it on Taylor Swift. Not only would it not be physically tailored to her, but it wouldn't align with Swift's brand of music. Gaga, at the time of wearing that dress, was making a statement that came about from a collaborative effort between herself, the canvas, and her fashion designer, the artist. The meaning would be lost if you put Swift, Katy Perry, or any other musician into it, because the fact that Gaga is the one wearing it is part of that meaning.

What would happen if you did take the meat dress and put it on someone else? Well, that's how you get the controversial 2022 Met Gala when Kim Kardashian wore the sequin dress that Marilyn Monroe wore for JFK back in 1962.

Not a replica. Not a re-interpretation. The actual literal dress that Monroe once wore. This was a very bold - and in my opinion, reckless - move on Kim's part, because not only was she forcing herself into a dress not tailored to her (and yes, there has been deliberation on what damage was caused to the dress on account of this) but rather than working with a fashion designer to come up with a fresh new interpretation of the same concept, she just went "yeah I'm gonna wear the exact dress", in what many interpreted as a disrespectful power move to artificially put herself on the same level of prestige as Monroe. But she still isn't on that level of prestige and it speaks volumes that she thought carving out her own legacy would be as simple as just taking someone else's. The wolf wore the sheep's clothing with the intent to fool the sheep, but it was still a wolf.

But okay okay, WHAT does this have to do with Lore Olympus?

Well, Rachel released a new interview clip.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

I will say, these seem to have all been recorded at once probably when she was back at NYCC and they're probably going to be released daily leading up to the free release of the finale. Why they're hyping up the free version rather than hyping up the FastPass version that actually generates income, I have no clue, but I digress.

As always, the transcript is as follows:

"I really like looking at like, uh, vintage clothing and silhouettes that are... y'know, timeless. I mean, obviously it's really hard to future-proof work that's set in the modern setting because of course the times are gonna change, like, rapidly and there's not a lot you can do about it, but in terms of, like, fashion, there are just some silhouettes that are always going to look very classy, so... I try to put things that will not age. Like, I think there was a chapter recently where she [Persephone?] had like a very vintage Dior look which I really liked, um... and I feel like that will always look nice, like in 10 years time I'll be like, 'She looked good'. But there are some outfits which are more modern where I'm like, 'That probably won't look good in 10 years time'. But, y'know, we still got the inspired vintage Dior outfit so that's good, that's safe."

There isn't much to say about the actual transcribed text itself, but I do think it's very telling that Rachel tries to upsell her sense of fashion sense in LO when... much of it is just flat out derivative. At best she's often referencing real life people (mostly Hollywood celebrities) and at worst she's usually just grabbing stuff off Pinterest inspo boards without any consideration towards the influences or who she's putting into them.

That said, I do think she told on herself quite a bit in that final line of the interview clip - "that's good, that's safe."

I can understand wanting to play it safe in terms of knowing your limitations and not wanting to create something that would be dated in a few years.

But fashion... isn't about playing it safe. Because ultimately, how something ages in the long term isn't something that you, the artist, can control, and like many art mediums, you need to be focused on what to create next, not on how well your old art pieces still hold up in the present where they've been removed from their original context.

And I think this rings true for a lot of Lore Olympus, beyond just the fashion. It's all just a little too safe. We see it in the fashion, we see it in her uncommitted writing decisions, we see it in how often she's willing to retcon things just to write herself out of corners.

And I think that's really Rachel's biggest weakness as a creator at the end of the day. As much as she's tried to put on the persona of "screw you, I'll do what I want", her actions are always the opposite of what she says. She says that the fashion in LO is very vintage, but I can count on one hand how many outfits were actually vintage. The vast majority of them are a lot more modern, with a lot of Western influences, and sometimes with a boob window thrown in.

Case in point, the most recent outfit of Persephone wearing a practically-nude sparkle dress?

That's Rihanna's Swarovski dress that she wore in 2014.

Now, to Rachel's credit, she did find a way to personalize this to Persephone by removing the cap and giving her a rose-shaped bun, but the outfit itself is still just copied directly from Rihanna. Not only is there not a whole lot of Persephone's influence beyond her being literally made out of roses-

-but there isn't anything calling attention to the fact that this is a Greek myth retelling. And this isn't just a problem with the Swarovski dress callback, this is a problem EVERYWHERE.

And of course, that's not even touching on the fact that Hades and Hecate are forced to wear suits constantly. Because, according to Rachel, the fashion inspiration for Hades and Persephone only went as deep is "he's the groom and she's the bride"-

Rachel plays it safe by sticking purely to the inspirations she consumes from modern American media. The "modern twist" on the myths in LO is literally just "it's Greek myth but it's set in Los Angeles". She doesn't seem to want to put herself out there and actually consume Greek content any deeper than what she can find on Google, and it shows in how little Greek there is in this Greek myth comic.

There is, ironically, as I've been told by community members in ULO, a fashion collection called Persephone created by Paolo Sebastian, and in it you can see the actual Greek influences in these outfits far more than what you see in even Persephone's most visually stunning outfits:

These are dresses and yet Paolo uses them as an opportunity to tell the story of Persephone, somehow even more faithfully than an actual written adaption of The Hymn to Demeter. Because fashion, too, can tell a story - and Lore Olympus' fashion, like its writing, has no story to really tell, at least not in Rachel's hands when she's just pulling whatever she can find from what she treats as a pile of "stuff" on Google.

And that's not even getting into how the writing plays it safe much in the same way as the fashion influences and artistic choices. A good example is that S3 premiere sequence, in which Hades and Persephone are pulled away from each other so that... they can get washed down by their family and peers.

Rachel doesn't really do anything to re-contextualize this reference for the context and setting and circumstances of LO, she just goes "I liked that bath scene from Beauty and the Beast so I'm going to put it in LO."

And of course, it doesn't work as effectively as it did in Beauty and the Beast, because the whole original point of that scene was to showcase the big and scary Beast being washed down like a dog by his servants-turned-into-furniture while he stresses over how he's going to win over Belle. It's a comedic subversion, artistically by showing the ferocious beast reduced into a wet dog, but also on a narrative level by showing through his dialogue and actions how nervous he is to impress Belle because his own fate - as well as the fates of his servants - depend on her falling in love with him. He can't afford to mess this up.

But in LO, it's two naked people who we already know love each other and are committed to each other, we've already seen countless scenes of them being sweet on each other and showcasing that they're into each other, and by all accounts they've already gotten their happy ending, so it makes no sense for them to just be like "OMG SHE LIKES ME?? I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE LIKES ME!" "should I seduce him?!?!??" because this seems like a no-brainer and there's zero actual stakes riding on this the way that there was with Belle and the Beast. Plus the people washing them down aren't their servants who are in the same situation as them, they're random gods from the Pantheon whose affiliation ranges from "family" to "never even had a conversation before". One of the women washing down Persephone has literally never spoken a single line of dialogue to her; another one of them was literally dumped by her partner because he wanted Persephone more than her. Who are these people and why are they enthusiastically appearing to give her a bath? Why is Hades being given a scrub down by his own brother?

And that's really the most striking difference between inspired references and derivative ones. Undertale was a game created by a guy who was in love with retro games like Earthbound and Megaman. Stardew Valley was a game created by a guy who loved Harvest Moon and used to play it with his girlfriend. Content that's built on the foundation of another is natural and the basis of inspiration, but you have to go further with it than just going "yeah this thing existed and I'm taking it", otherwise you miss the purpose of why those inspirations were created the way they were.

And when you don't actually explore how you can re-interpret those influences and add your own voice into them, that's how you wind up writing like Rachel whose writing is about as inspired as a cheap character swap cutaway gag from Family Guy.

Rachel's great at referencing, but that's not at all an impressive thing to do as proven by Peter Griffin. She's not at all re-contextualizing or expanding on what inspired her... but she still claims that she's exactly what she's doing because she calls Lore Olympus a "deconstruction". But her deconstruction only ever goes so far as "well what if Aphrodite left Ares for Hephaestus instead of the other way around?" and then just showing that question and never answering it or delivering on the potential of what that could cause. At best, she'll ask a "what if?" but then never actually show us the what if, it begins and ends with the question and the question itself doesn't provoke any thought deeper than "huh, yeah, that would be neat I guess." Episode's over, next scene. What if we showed that clip of Bill O'Reilly freaking out on set, but like, replaced it with Stewie Griffin and changed nothing else about it except for that? That's the joke, next scene.

I know, we're digressing hard off the fashion here, but the fashion itself is just a symptom of a much bigger problem that expands even beyond Lore Olympus - Rachel plays things way too safe. Even her responses in her interviews are painfully subdued, often resorting to the same tired answers that we've heard 823190589320 times before to the same hand-picked questions that are undoubtedly chosen ahead of time to ensure she doesn't have to answer anything too complicated. And when she does say "I have thoughts about xyz" she never actually... expresses her thoughts. She just says she does and then moves on without any further elaboration because she can't wholeheartedly commit to whatever thoughts she has going on.

Granted, I'm sure that part of that is owed to the fact that she might feel like she can't say anything while the critics are breathing down her neck. I can understand that. But it's gotten so chronic that it's now bleeding into the work itself and it's led to even more criticism of her work. Need I remind you that this is the same person who copy pasted the definition of "xenia" from a first result Google search into her comic instead of naturally writing it into the script:

Rachel played it so safe that she basically treated her own audience like kindergartners by explaining what a scene meant even after explaining it in the text:

As true as it is in fashion, writing stories and making art takes risks. That doesn't mean you have to completely throw caution to the wind, but if you don't take risks, you do yourself the disservice of writing something that can truly be called unique and special to you. If you don't use your influences wisely, if you don't analyze and re-analyze what's influenced you over the years, you're going to wind up losing a lot of subtext in those influences and missing out on the opportunity to add your own voice into the re-interpretation. Rachel does take a lot of risks in LO, but they're not calculated risks, they're not risks that actually have any meaning behind them, she's sort of just throwing stuff at a wall and seeing what sticks, and worst of all, when it doesn't stick, she herself doesn't stick to it, she backpedals, she cowers away from the decisions she's made.

Rachel expressed her worries about depicting fashion that would become aged, but Lore Olympus is already aged through her own inability to commit to her decisions, take risks, and find her voice. It's aged itself through its poor interpretations of the myth, it's aged itself through its reliance on Tumblr tropes that have already been replaced tenfold, and it's aged itself through Rachel herself riding off the initial innovation of creating Lore Olympus and then never continuing to challenge herself or raise the bar for herself.

It proves true the discussion around why Lore Olympus became popular - at the time, it was groundbreaking, drawn in a style that we hadn't seen much of before, with fresh new takes on the myth; now, in 2024, its 'takes' feel tired and half-baked, and its art style has become a corporate-scrubbed shell of what it once was. And yet, Rachel is still rewarded for it all the same, so settling for comfortable mediocrity has become the name of the game.

Rachel may be trying as hard as the Disney life action remakes and Kim Kardashian to put herself on the same pedestal as the greats of yesteryear simply by copying what they did, but in playing it this safe and refusing to find her own voice out of the voices that influenced her, Lore Olympus isn't timeless. It's soulless.

[spamgyu]

BACKBURNER // PART 2

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 1 | MASTERLIST

She wished she could go back and listened to her friend when he had warned her starting something with him was a bad idea.

Y/n could remember that day so clearly — even more now that she spent a lot of her free time alone with her thoughts.

It was going so well, three months into dating Seungcheol and not a single red flag in sight. Things were looking up.

Maybe he wasn't the toxic man she had come to know of when they were in school.

It was all going so well.

He had invited her over to his place, wanting to cook her dinner.

"Wanted to do something cute." He explained. Y/n happily made her way over to his place, thinking that he was finally going to ask her the big question.

To be his girlfriend.

They spent most of the time giggling like high school lovers as they worked around each other in the kitchen; Seungcheol stealing kisses each time he caught her looking over at him.

Which was more than she could count on one hand — but she wasn't complaining.

They were nearly done. Just needed to plate their meal when the rug under her was pulled, sending her right back down to earth.

His phone hadn't even completed ringing when he picked it up, his demeanor instantly changing.

"Sunhee's flight came in a few hours early. Rain check on dinner?" He flashed her his dimply smile.

What was she supposed to do? Say no? Not with that smile.

Y/n agreed, allowing him to usher her out of his place; not without a kiss of course.

With an empty stomach and a freed up Friday night, she made her way to her favorite duo's place — in hopes that the two were not out terrorizing local single women at the club.

"He called off date night? For Sunhee?" Mingyu snorted as she picked off of his plate. "Can't you go and make yourself a plate? There's literally enough food for both of us."

She shook her head, grabbing another piece of chicken only for her to drop it as his hand lightly smacked hers. "She didn't have a ride."

God, could she be any more oblivious.

"Uber? Lyft?" He listed in bewilderment.

Y/n shrugged. "You'd do it for me."

She didn't care if he had a girl best friend. To most, this was a nightmare. It would have been the first big red flag to any other girl.

But Y/n knew she couldn't complain. Not when she was the first person Mingyu would call to tell her about the latest girl he was dating, the person he asked for outfit approvals, the person she called when she had any car problems. They were each other's person. Even if they bickered like their lives depended on it.

No, she couldn't be a hypocrite.

"Pick you up at the airport? During rush hour? You wish. I'd only do that for someone I love.... even then I'd reconsider it." He chewed.

"They're best friends." She defended, tapping her finger on the table to make a point.

"Who's in love with each other." Mingyu replied matter of factly, copying her actions.

As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No they don't."

"May I remind you that last week he didn't make it to your little breakfast date because she didn't feel well. She." He emphasized. "You would have to be dying for me to cancel on someone I was dating."

Y/n had almost forgotten about the incident. She and Seungcheol had made plans to try out a new cafe by his place only for him to cancel at the very last minute.

She paid no mind to this, knowing that he and Sunhee were close and she had no family in the city to be at her aid.

Little did she know at the time was that Sunhee simply had a hangover and Seungcheol had gone over to nurse her back to health.

"It's been three months and not a single title has been established. He's a red flag, Y/n. Back out now before you get even more attached." Mingyu stood from his seat, walking over to the stove where the rest of his meal was cooling — scooping extra servings for him and y/n. "You want more rice?"

"No, just chicken." She shook her head. "He's just being a good friend."

"I give it another month before he makes you cry." He sat back down, this time placing the plate in-front of her.

He was right.

Within a month, Seungcheol began giving Y/n mixed signals — one minute he was telling her how he couldn't believe he had managed to score a chance with her and the next he was leaving her on delivered for hours on end.

Only for her to find out he had been pre-occupied with Sunhee through their instagram stories.

But see, Seungcheol had done it so slowly and Y/n didn't realize that she had been put on the backburner until it was too late.

She was far in too deep when she had come to realize that she would never measure up to the girl.

She had been attached, falling deeper and deeper as each day passed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Are you done?" Mingyu whined from across the table.

She had taken and retaken the same picture of their meal for the past minute, unable to find the right angle.

"It doesn't look like a date!" Y/n groaned. "You know for someone who came up with this brilliant idea, you're shit at making it believable."

When he had told her he was going to be picking her up to get lunch, this was not what y/n had imagined. She thought he would have at least chosen a much cuter place that was worth pulling her phone out for.

But what would have expected from the Kim Mingyu.

She nearly strangled him as they pulled up to the usual spot they would gab a bite from. After much convincing, and the offer of a free meal on him, she exited the car and followed him into the establishment.

Picking up his chopsticks to pick at the meat that was beginning to brown on the grill, Mingyu let out a small chuckle. "He won't believe it if I took you to something fancy."

Y/n rolled her eyes, leaning back against her chair as she watched him stuff his face. "This is so romantic." She deadpanned.

"Fine, here." He sat up, placing an elbow on the table and a smirk on his face.

He was posing.

She had seen enough stories from girls he had dated to know it was his signature look.

"The fuck am I supposed to do with that."

"Just take the damn picture."

Picking up her phone with a sigh, she angled her phone just enough to capture their meal and him – cutting it off right where his neck began. It was discreet enough to get people wondering, but also obvious enough for him to know who she was with.

She didn't want to post his face just yet.

"Next date better be something good and not barbecue."

"Relax, we gotta do it slowly." He shoveled a spoonful of rice into his mouth, wincing at the sight of him talk while his cheeks were full of food. "Date here and there and then Hawaii– that's when we'll become so insufferable he'll want to kill me."

Hawaii.

In about two weeks, she and the whole gang were headed off to the tropics for one of their college friend's destination wedding.

Of course it would be a destination wedding. It was Jeonghan.

He couldn't just have picked a local venue.

It was going to be a week full festivities, the group wanting to take advantage of all the island had to offer before they watched their close friend walk down the aisle.

Might as well.

Everyone was going to be there. Including her.

"Speaking of," Mingyu continued. "Switch rooms with Minghao."

Looking up from her phone, she raised a brow at him.

"Do you even want to do this? Why are you so dumb?"

"Hey!"

Rubbing his face and groaning in frustration, he spoke slowly. "Minghao's rooming with me, meaning you will now room with me. Seungcheol will see. He will get jealous. Is your pea brain picking up on this?"

Jeonghan and his future wife had thankfully blocked off a floor at the hotel for those traveling for his big day, allowing all his friends to be within close proximity to each other.

She had initially booked a room all by herself after waiting weeks for Seungcheol to bring it up when they had all received their invites in the mail.

But he never did.

In fact, he had told her he was rooming with one of his high school friends who had not seen in a while.

She couldn't even bring herself to be disappointed, a part of her fully expecting he wasn't going to make the suggestion.

He had seen the disappointed look on her face that day, reassuring her that he may end up in her room every night anyways.

"Just want to hang out with Jihoon, haven't seen him in years." He reasoned, placing a kiss on her temple.

What a fucking liar.

"If we're going to do this, you have to be nicer to me.".

"Whatever you say, stink." He winked.

"Stink?" Y/n made a face.

"Short for stink bug."

It was a nickname he had given her in middle school, claiming that she looked a like a stink bug.... and smelled like one too. Y/n hated the nickname at the time, nearly crying each time he would call her this in front of the boys in their class.

It was better than baby.

"We'll work on pet names later." She laughed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Their fake dates have gained attention from everyone but him.

The rest of their friend group had managed to fall for their act after the second cryptic instagram story that the two shared at his apartment.

Unbeknownst to them, they had spent nearly half an hour getting the perfect shot on his couch to make it seem as though they were cuddling – all with the help of Minghao, of course.

"This isn't gong to work. You guys look so stiff." He laughed as he watched the two make a face as they intertwined their legs, pretending as though they were cuddling as they watched a movie. "Scoot closer, Mingyu."

"If I scoot any closer, my skin will merge into hers." He snapped, following directions.

"Oh my god, just do it." She cried, her arms growing numb with the multiple attempts of snapping the picture.

Seungkwan was the first one to swipe up on the story, instantly noticing the familiar console in the picture; replying "??????".

Soon her inbox was flooded with the rest of the group's reactions; even more when Mingyu posted his version of the same pose.

All except him, who didn't even bother watching the stories.

"Switch seats with me." Y/n whispered loudly to Minghao as they waited to board their plane.

"I already switched rooms, you want me to–"

"I'm sitting next to him."

They had booked their flight together; at the time when she hadn't been able to foresee the future.

Y/n was originally going to go through with sitting through the flight next to Seungcheol, wanting to get under his skin after spending the past two weeks and a half posting of nothing but about her and Mingyu. But considering he had yet to even see a single one of these post that was directed to him, and not a single text, she didn't think she could sit a four hour flight in silence.

Not while Sunhee sat to his right.

Taking the boarding pass from her hand and handing her his, Minghao let out a defeated sigh. "I feel like I'm doing as much work in this stupid shit as you two."

They had disclosed their plans to him, and only him. They knew if it had to be believable, they need someone on their side who was able to corroberate their stories – just in case someone had doubts.

"Love you!" She smiled, reaching over to pinch his cheeks.

"You better." He grumbled.

It wasn't long before they were called to board.

Y/n palms were sweating at the thought of walking past him as she would make her way a few rows back to her newly assigned seat; but she had to keep her composure. Just as she had while they were all sat at the gate – pretending she didn't care that Sunhee wasn't giggling a little too loud at whatever Seungcheol was saying.

Or the fact that he had pushed her carry on all the way from TSA to their designated waiting area while she happily walked alongside him.

She had to keep her head up high.

He had already been sitting in his seat when he caught her eyes from the line of passengers who were all patiently waiting to put their belongings in their overhead compartments.

She was two steps away when he stood from his seat, motioning Sunhee to do the same, to make room for y/n to squeeze in to her spot by the window.

"Thanks." Minghao smiled, shimmying past the two; paying no mind to the confused look on his friend's face.

With furrowed brows, Seungcheol followed her movement – up until Mingyu grabbed the rolling bag from her hand.

"I got it." He lifted the bag with ease, sparing no glance to the eyes that burned a hole in the back of his head.

Once she was no longer in his eyeline, y/n let out a breath of relief – buckling herself in.

"High five." Mingyu held his hand up, proud of her.

"Gyu please, not now." She shook her head, attempting to slow down the beat of her heart.

His head tilted to the side as he watched the girl's emotion's spiral from nervousness to a near panic attack.

"Cheol?" He asked.

"I wish." Her legs bounced as the last few passengers took their seats and the flight attendants made their rounds; her lips growing pale as each second passed.

Mingyu watched as she shifted in her seat for the third time since sitting, adjusting her belt tighter as she felt the plane slowly taxi on to the runway. "Still?" He asked in disbelief, eyeing her knuckles that had turned white from gripping the arm rest.

Y/n simply nodded, closing her eyes.

She had always been a nervous flyer, despite the countless times people have explained the physics of a plane. To y/n it didn't seem logical, how was it that a flying bus could easily travel from point a to point b? All with nothing but a fan for an engine and wings that didn't flap.

It didn't make sense. And don't even get her started with turbulances.

The low hum of the plane had began to grow into a loud roaring sound; she could practically feel her heart sinking deep into the pit of her stomach as she waited for it to gain speed.

Y/n's mind was instantly distracted when she felt his pinky slowly interlock with hers. She opened her eyes to look over at him, but his eyes was closed and fully locked in to whatever music that was blaring on his headphones.

Grateful for his attempts to comfort her, she relaxed under his touch – feeling his hand slip under hers to interlock hands once the plane was at full speed, giving it a squeeze when the plane reached the end of the runway.

It was only a matter of minutes before they were in the air, nervously watching the buildings grow smaller and smaller as the ascended past the clouds.

All thoughts of free falling began to plague her mind again.

"Stop that." He reached over to shut her window with his free hand, pointing to her personal tv. "Watch. Don't look out."

Time passed quickly all thanks to Mingyu's annoying voice that had kept her distracted, talking over the movie he had suggested for her to watch – pausing almost every five minutes to listen to him either comment on the scene or babble on and on about a random picture from his camera roll.

She had given up halfway through the movie, opting to sleep instead. But Mingyu wasn't letting up; he had thought if she sat in silence, she would manage to come up with all the worst case scenarios possible.

He would have much rather waste his breathe talking her ear off than have to comfort her while she sobbed in her seat.

He had been traumatized the last time their family took a trip together to Japan; the first time he had seen a different side of her. She had always been the braver one between the two, an adrenaline junkie who seeked thrill rides and any activity that would have him cowering in an instant.

They were fifteen at the time and since then, he swore he would rather eat dirt before he relieved that same moment again.

Just as he had comforted her during take off, Mingyu took her hand in his as they made their descend down – still babbling on and on about god knows what.

"See not bad." He grinned as they felt their plane come to a complete stop.

The humid air instantly engulfed them as they stepped out of the automatic doors of the airport, each making a comment about how glad they were that they chose to dress lightly.

The boys were all like children let loose in a candy shop, gawking over the Jeep Wranglers at the rental lot – Seokmin and Mingyu instantly bickering over who would get the last black two door.

"Boys." A voice next to her giggled.

It was Sunhee.

While the guys loudly made arrangements on who would be getting which vehicle and who would be riding with who, Sunhee and Y/n stood back and watched.

"They're... something." Y/n forced out a laugh.

The thing was, she couldn't bring herself to hate the girl.

As much as she hated that she was the reason for the pain that Seungcheol had put her through, y/n knew that Sunhee wasn't the problem.

In fact, Sunhee had attempted to distance herself from Seungcheol at one point when she had found out he was dating her; but of course, he didn't have any of it. Y/n was in the other room when he had called Sunhee, saying that he and y/n were just casually dating and didn't care feel at all threatened by Sunhee.

It wasn't a lie. But it sure did hurt.

"Stink!" Mingyu called out from black Jeep, motioning for her to head over. "Come on!"

He had won the rock, paper, scissors against Seokmin.

Fighting back the urge to send him the middle finger, Y/n smiled at him and turned to Sunhee. "I'll see you at the hotel."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"When'd you get that?"

Y/n turned away from her suitcase, halting her search for her white oversize linen button down, she followed his finger to the red fine line tattoo that read "lucky" at her hip.

Once they had all arrived at the hotel, the group wasted no time making plans to bound for the beach; agreeing to head up to their respective rooms to quickly change out of their airport loungewear to a much more appropriate attire.

Mingyu and Y/n have seen each other countless of times in their swimsuits, not bothering to bat an eye as they gathered all their belongings half naked.

"About four months ago." Y/n went back to practically tossing all her belongings on her bed.

Thankfully the room that they shared was a double queen, having it originally been Minghao and Mingyu's sleeping arrangement. She was able to make her own mess on her side without Mingyu's complaint about making the whole place look like a teenager's room.

He had been the clean one between the two.

"Nice." He nodded slipping a plain white shirt on. "Ready?"

"I can't find my shirt." She exhasperated.

"We're going down to the beach. Just go like that." He said, addressing her current outfit.

Which was just her swimwear and light washed cut off shorts that she had folded down to rest right at her hips. Something she had seen from pinterest when she was taking inspiration for her outfits for the trip.

"But I want to look cute." She pouted.

Aside from having to pretend like she was dating him, she still wanted to take document the trip and all her outfits.

She had an instagram feed to keep up, after all.

Rolling his eyes, he dug into his own suitcase – tossing her his crocheted short sleeve button down. "Come on, we're missing prime acting time." He clapped. "Need to annoyingly apply sunscreen on you and pretend to drag you into the water."

"Oh my god." She groaned.

When he said they were going to be insufferable, she didn't think he would jump right into it – dreading the fake laughs and giggles she would have to muster up the minute they stepped foot out of their room.

Grabbing her tote off the bed, Y/n put on her best smile and walked over to him. "Ready, bug?"

"Let the games begin, stink." He winked, slinging his arms over her shoulder – the two cracking up in an instant.

This was going to be a long week.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

They're act was in full force.

Mingyu wasn't lying when he said he would apply suncreen on her once they reached the sand, annoyingly taking his time as he reached her lower back.

He was also not lying when he said he would pretend to drag her in the water, throwing her over his shoulder as he bounded for the shoreline, only to set her down once he was ankle deep.

"Is he looking?" He asked, keeping one arm around her waist.

Discreetly peering over his shoulder, thankful that he was nearly a foot taller than her, y/n nodded.

Seungcheol was sat on his towel, watching the two with the same look he had been giving when they were at Seokmin's.

"Okay, we'll I'm gonna go play." Mingyu satisfied with his short acting career, nodding over to Hansol and Chan who was calling out for him at the deep end. "You're good for a few minutes?"

"Yeah I'm going to nap." She nodded, heading back up to where the other half of the group was lounging – not before she felt him give her hip a squeeze.

"For plot." He winked.

"Gross."

"You and Mingyu, huh?" Jeonghan wiggled his brows as she took a seat next to him, pulling her sunglasses back down to cover her eyes.

Along with Seungcheol, Jeonghan had managed to catch a glimpse of the two shamelessly flirting by the water.

He had bought their oscar worthy performance.

"Yeah." She replied shyly. "It kind of just happened."

They had yet to come up with how it just happened.

"Surprised it didn't happen sooner. Glad you got over this guy over here." Using his thumb to point at Seungcheol who had been shamelessly listening in on their conversation. Just like everyone else in the group, Jeonghan had been filled in on y/n and Seungcheol's weird relationship – despite being cities away.

"He'll just play her." Seungcheol snorted. "It's Mingyu."

The first time she had heard him utter a word to her in weeks.

"Can't be as bad as what you put me through." Y/n replied without missing a beat, laying down to soak up the warm sun.

She fought back the smile that threatened to creep up on her lips, content that she had managed to get in his head.

The plan was working.

"Okay, kids, no fighting this week." Jeonghan laughed nervously.

taglist:

@thepoopdokyeomtouched/ @scuzmunkie / @yunjin0 / @morkswatermelonnnn / @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan / @naturelvrgfstealer

(taglist open - lmk if you want to be added!)

[808airsoftbros]

How IVE Gets You Off From Your Games/Matches

Author: This will only contain 18+ members. If this goes well I will consider making this a future series. This idea randomly came up in my head and wanted to try this out. If you want to see more check out my Masterlist.

An Yujin

When I say Yujin has her ways of getting her way, I mean it very well. She will do anything to get what she wants and what she wants right now is your attention

The only thing that stood in her way of your attention was your damn match in Titanfall 2

"Baby~," She'd call but you'd dismiss her promising that you'll be off soon but she didn't have the patience as she was needy

Sighing knowing that you're totally focused on the game but she knew how to take away your attention from the game

After putting on a spicy cat outfit that hugged her curves, she presents herself in front of the screen of your monitor

Expectantly, the outfit worked as you immediately paused the game to stare at her and she smirked

"How about you turn off the game and play with me instead~?" She suggested and you wasted no time turning off your PC and go to the bedroom soon after

Kim Gaeul

Gaeul allowed you to play games whenever you wished whenever she was away busy with her idol life but when she returned she found you were still playing on a match longer than you were supposed to

She well established with you that she had a no video game rule when she was home because she wanted all of your attention on her

But she has better idea than whipping your ass with her belt and instead comes to a more gentle approach

"Hmmm... Isn't it getting hot in here?" She pretended to fan herself with her hands

Without warning she slowly stripped herself of her clothes, starting with her shirt and pants revealing her sexy black lacy undergarments

Although Gaeul wasn't exactly the curviest that doesn't make her less hot than her members as she has a beautiful and sexy slender body no man can't resist and you're no exception

You tried to focus on the game knowing what game she was playing at but Gaeul was ruthless showing no mercy towards you

When Gaeul took off her bra revealing her perky breasts and teasing you by squeezing them you got off the match early

Jang Wonyoung

Wonyoung would act all cute and pouty trying to use her aegyo and charming skills to get you off the game but you were unfazed which made her pout even more

"Hmph. Guess I'll have to step things up..." She huffed and went to her closet

Wonyoung would go through her closet looking for any outfit that may catch your attention

"Let's see... No not this one... Hmm... No that won't do... Ah! Perfect!" She smirked devilishly

You just started up another match when Wonyoung walked in wearing a rather revealing maid outfit, her short skirt revealing her milky long thighs and legs, and parts of her ass, her top showing off her cleavage

You paid no attention at first but when you got a good lock your jaw dropped and she grinned knowing it was working but she wanted to teach you a lesson first

"Oh baby boy, aren't you playing a match~? Oh well, I guess you ain't getting a piece of me..." She mockingly said and went upstairs

With no other choice, you shut off the game and rushed upstairs after her where she'd be waiting in the bedroom

Rei

There isn't much to be said about Rei...

Rei can be very scary if you piss her off and when she found you were still playing your PC when she wanted your attention at most she was angry

"Yah! Can't you see I'm home?!" She yelled but you didn't hear her with the noise cancellation headphones

Rei groaned in annoyance before she walked in front of you near your desk and literally flashed her A-cup-sized breasts

"I know you can't resist these you little pervert~. Why don't you come suck on them~?"

Without hesitation you shut off the game and Rei smirked victoriously as you knew you couldn't resist her

But she wanted to teach you a lesson first and would make you watch first before you can touch her

"Uh uh, no touch~." She teased before playing with herself and moaning as loudly as possible to rile you up and that night would be real active of passionate and rough love making

Liz

Liz is not really the type to punish or make any bold moves as she's quite shy

However that doesn't mean she doesn't have her sexual needs and she is desperate for your attention but you were too occupied with your game to notice her

She was tired and stressed after the long day of her idol life and errands and all she wanted was your love and attention

"Baby~? Could you maybe get off the game for a bit~?" She softly asked tugging on your shirt

Looking at the precious look in her eyes screaming that she wanted to do the deed with you

Of course being her boyfriend who would you be to deny her such a thing? Not you, right?

Immediately, you shut off your PC and told your boys that you'd be on tomorrow and Liz would smile happily

But that night would be nothing but screaming moans of your name

[bro-atz]

bug bites [bro's 1k —seonghwa]

in which: seonghwa's pissed as hell that you're being flirty with other guys.

pair: idol!seonghwa/mua!afab!reader

word count: 1.4k

content: smut, semi-public sex, a lil jealousy sex, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), oral sex, consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

Seonghwa knew that he had nothing to worry about, but he was still on edge when he saw you flirting with Jongho. He knew that you had to touch him for your job since you were literally one of the makeup artists, but he seriously did not like that Jongho was shooting you his cute, gummy smile and that you were making him laugh more and more.

You could feel Seonghwa’s glare on you intensify when you asked Jongho to close his eyes, the male smiling and nodding. You worked on touching up his eyelids, but a little bit of extra pigment landed on his cheekbone, and you immediately tried to blow it off him.

“Y/N, that tickles,” Jongho chuckled as his eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, my bad,” you responded sheepishly.

You heard something loud that made you flinch, and you immediately turned your head in the direction of the sound. It was Seonghwa, and he was standing with a crushed soda can in his hand. You made eye contact with him, and he didn’t even have to say or do anything— his glare said it all.

Come with me right now.

Quickly, you finished touching up Jongho’s makeup before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom.

You were on set for an outdoor music video shoot, so you had to walk pretty far to get to the park’s bathrooms. Just as you arrived, however, Seonghwa grabbed you and whisked you to the side of the building. He pinned you against the wall with one hand on the wall and one on your waist. His face was twisted in frustration, and he looked ready to rip you to shreds.

“Having fun, are we?” he asked, his words oozing with envy.

“Baby, what are you—”

“No. Don’t try to sweet talk your way out of this,” Seonghwa covered your mouth before you could say anything else. “You’re doing this intentionally, and you know it.”

He didn’t give you the chance to explain yourself. Keeping your mouth covered, he lowered his head to the nook of your neck and sucked your skin lightly at first, then with a little more intensity. You couldn't help but let out muffled protests because if he left a hickey on you, work was not going to end well for you at all. You held Seonghwa's wrist and tugged on it just enough for him to withdraw his hand.

"Seonghwa, I thought we were trying to not tell anyone we're together!" you hissed. "What do you think is going to happen now if we return to set?!"

"Then you should've thought twice before doing that in front of me," Seonghwa responded while tucking his fingers under your chin and tilting your head up. He leaned in close, his breath tickling your lips as he whispered, "I'm sure you can come up with an excuse for the mark."

You frowned before nodding, a smirk gracing his face before he pressed his lips against yours with so much force that the back of your head nearly hit the wall. You felt his grip on your waist tighten and his knee press into your crotch as he slipped his leg between yours. You ended up gripping Seonghwa's shoulders tightly when you felt his hand slip under your top, and you began to melt into his kisses and hot touch.

"B-Baby, wait," you pushed him away and gasped for air. "Your outfit... We can't ruin it— We still have to shoot."

"Then don't hold onto my shoulders, doll," Seonghwa murmured before bringing his lips to yours again. In between kisses, he continued, "As long as you listen to me, we shouldn't have any problems."

While inhaling deeply, Seonghwa grabbed your wrists and moved your hands so that they were on the back of his head. You ran your fingers through his hair and held on tightly as you continued kissing him, allowing him to move as he pleased. His hands, instead of going back up your shirt, slipped below the waistband of your pants and panties. His fingers quickly made their way to your cunt and began light scratching your folds as you moved your legs apart.

"Just like that, doll," Seonghwa said, his voice low. "Now, turn around for me."

You did as he asked, your hands pressing into the wall. He pulled your pants down just enough that your bare ass and wet pussy were exposed to the warm air, but your pants remained on the rest of your legs. You heard Seonghwa's pants unzip, and before long, you felt the tip of his penis rub against your folds.

"I don't want to hear a peep out of you, got it, doll?" Seonghwa whispered into your ear as he leaned closer to you.

You nodded and bit your lower lip as you anticipated his cock, but he continued to tease you for a bit— probably payback for whatever upset him earlier. You wanted to beg him for his cock, but he told you to keep quiet, and you were going to listen to him.

The second Seonghwa shoved his cock into you, you gasped, and it would've been loud had he not covered your mouth quickly. Once you relaxed, Seonghwa moved his hand away. He started to rut into you slowly, steadily, your body moving closer and closer into the wall with every thrust. You focused on your breathing to make sure you didn't make any noise, but every so often, Seonghwa would buck his hips upwards, and you would choke out a little moan.

At some point, his gentle ruts turned into insane thrusts that made your entire body react. You felt your fingers and toes get tingly, and your eyelids fluttered while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You didn't say anything still, but when you gripped Seonghwa's forearms, he knew that you were close.

"Turn," Seonghwa ordered as he pulled out abruptly.

You nearly whimpered as you did so, the building pleasure starting to go down slightly, but when he pressed your back into the wall again and rushed two of his fingers into your tight cunt, you were losing it again. You bit your lower lip and grasped Seonghwa's shoulder as he fingered you vigorously. It was when his fingers rubbed against your G-spot just right did your vision go white. You did your best to keep your voice hushed as you moaned with pleasure, your walls fluttering uncontrollably as Seonghwa made you cum.

"You like that, doll?" Seonghwa asked, his smirk from earlier returning.

You nodded as your high wore off and your muscles relaxed.

"Is it bad I like it when you're mad at me?" you asked with a slight giggle. "It makes the sex so much better."

"Is that so?" Seonghwa chuckled. "Alright, if that's the case, then get on your knees, doll. We're not done here."

You sank to your knees before holding Seonghwa's cock. You stroked it lightly then pressed a couple of light kisses along the length, making the man inhale sharply. When you finally took the tip of his cock into your mouth, his patience snapped. He ran his fingers through your hair and began fucking your throat. You held onto Seonghwa's thighs as you did your best to keep your gags to a minimum; however, he was fucking you so forcefully that you couldn't help but.

"Fuck," Seonghwa groaned, his climax nearing. "You better swallow everything, doll."

Seonghwa let go of your head, and you pushed yourself way into him. You kept him in your mouth as he let out a low groan and came, his cock twitching as it spurt his pools of white into your mouth. You kept him in your mouth as you swallowed every single last drop of him before letting him out with a pop.

"Fuck, doll... You did so well listening to me," Seonghwa murmured as he brushed your messy hair out of your face. "You better fucking listen to me for the rest of this shoot, though."

"Of course, baby," you nodded and smiled at him while wiping the corners of your mouth.

Suddenly realizing the fact that the two of you had been away from set for a moment too long, you and Seonghwa quickly got situated. When you adjusted your clothes, you immediately shivered feeling your wet panties press against your sore pussy. A light blush spread across your face as the embarrassing realization that you were going to have to continue working with completely soiled panties overcame you.

"What's wrong, doll?" Seonghwa asked when he saw the stunned look on your face.

"My panties are soaked..."

"I wouldn't be worried about your panties if I were you."

"Huh? Why?"

Seonghwa tapped the part of your neck he left a kiss on earlier and said, "You should probably take care of this bug bite, first."

bro's 1k event masterlist

taglist:

@k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @hwallazia @yunhoszn

@nebulousbookshelf @starryriize @skteezcursed @yessa-vie @minkilicious

@sunshineangel-reads @dazzlingstarrs @dutchessskarma @yourlocaljonghoe @st4rhwa

@frobin4ever @sanhwajjong @certifiedmoa @therealcuppicake @yuyubeans

@hyunukitty @startlinglyoongi @hyukssunflower @chewyhotteoks @bsehindu

@dinossaurz @woomyteez @isiloiale @ywtfvs @nvdhrzn

@khjoongie98 @jaerisdiction @ninoshome1 @aaa-sia @tiredlittlevirgo

@preciouswoozi @woohwababes @wmewtew @yuyusgirl @exololyunho

@everythingboutkpop @bath1lda @bitejoongie @jen176pink @sousydive

@yyaurii @ateez-atiny380 @arabelleum @seeoonghwaa @oddracha

@wonuwrites @wyrated @flwrshwa @wooyoungqueen @luvt0kki

@oreoqueen @kiki277 @bakarilennox

apply for the permanent taglist here!

networks: @atzhouse @blossomnet @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet

@illusionnet @ksmutsociety @wonderlandnet

[copper-16]

did she feel better than me?

A continuation/parallel of girlgenius1111's work titled "do you want my attention?"

Mapi makes the decision to rile Ingrid up with the help of Alexia's girlfriend. And she gets exactly what she wants...in due time.

(a/n: My brain simply couldn’t get out of its head what Mapi and Ingrid did after Alexia and r left the club, so I reached out to girlgenius1111 and got permission to write about the same story but from Ingrid and Mapi’s perspective! Please, please go read their fic first mostly because it is phenomenal and also a little bit because this will make more sense if you have read that first - I have it linked at the bottom of this!

This is literally eight thousand words of sex. I'm normally a pretty vanilla person (nothing wrong with that yk just personal preference!) so this isn’t the spiciest or craziest thing in the world by any means, but it's still spice and not much else.

Also I couldn't make up my mind about who would be more possessive over who so this is giving major switch energy...I plead the fifth I'm indecisive!)

The thing was that the last few weeks had been hectic, to say the least. The schedule for Barcelona was packed with league matches combined with Champions League games to be played, and then for Ingrid, national team camp only added to that already frantic schedule. 

But Mapi was still not playing for her national team, which meant that she had been left with two weeks to herself before Ingrid had gotten home that Sunday, just a few nights ago. 

Two weeks to miss Ingrid. 

Two weeks to miss…certain things about her. Two weeks of waking up alone and going to bed by herself, left with far too much time to imagine exactly all the ways she wanted the Norwegian. 

Mapi wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was getting a little bit desperate. It had been weeks since they had done anything really, and this past week she could feel herself getting wet just when the Norwegian looked at her a little hard while they were with the team. 

The week leading up to their Friday game was a lot, with a Champions League game on Tuesday and added practices considering that they had the upcoming weekend off. Ingrid had arrived back from Oslo late on Sunday night, and with the chaos of the schedule, they hadn’t had time to do anything other than a hot makeout session before leaving for training one morning, which had left Mapi more wrecked and wet than she cared to admit. 

Between herself and the other girls on the team, they managed to wear Alexia and the captains down to the point where they all agreed to go out to the club after the Friday game. It was a surprising move from the Barcelona captain, but when she takes one look at her girlfriend’s outfit, at the way her eyes paused at the lace covered chest, at the way it pulled across taut and supple skin, all of the girls can’t help but smirk in understanding at one another. 

Mapi had dressed the part as well, knowing exactly what she wanted to come out of this night. She had days, weeks really, to come up with the perfect plan, and she wasn’t going to let this night go to waste without completing it. She had on black leather pants that she knew made her ass look good, and a maroon corset top cinched over her chest. 

Ingrid was wearing a sapphire colored crop top coupled with a pair of black jeans that Mapi couldn’t stop staring at as they walked into the club. But she needed to focus, she had a plan to complete and it wasn’t Ingrid who needed to agree to it in order for it to work. No sooner had they made it through the door than the defender was pulling their teammate toward the bar, Ingrid and Alexia watching their respective girlfriends go with raised eyebrows, already slightly suspicious. 

But the two taller women say nothing, getting a table before they all order their drinks. Ingrid can’t help but look surprised when Alexia orders a gin and tonic, after the Norwegian had rattled off her request for a negroni. 

“Drinking tonight, Ale?” The dark haired midfielder asked, clearly more than a little amused. But Alexia just scowled, her gaze not meeting Ingrid’s, but rather still trained toward the bar, where Mapi and her girlfriend were standing, clearly in conversation. 

“I feel like the night calls for it,” Alexia murmured carefully as the two Barcelona players turn back toward the table where their partners are, both of their girlfriends greeting them warmly. 

The two women stand at the table for maybe thirty seconds before they are headed toward the dance floor, a pair of hazel and green eyes tracking their every move. Caro and Patri could only watch in complete amusement as Alexia and Ingrid don’t even bother to try conversing anymore, simply too enamored with their respective girlfriend to care about trying to seem civilized. None of the women at the table are dancers per say, but the two midfielders are staring at their girlfriends like they might be considering it, given how aggressively their eyes are tracking the women.   

Alexia, surprisingly, seemed to have less restraint than Ingrid for once, the Spaniards hand gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles were beginning to turn white. When her girlfriend turned toward her, her ass pressed back into Mapi, the captain shakes her head slightly, but she only receives a nod that looks suspiciously like a smile in response. 

Ingrid was slightly more composed than her fellow midfielder, but it still wasn’t hard to spot the fact that she was staring at Mapi, her gaze intent. The club was busy, and it was a gay club, so to say that the two dancers had eyes on them would have been an understatement, but they only had eyes for their respective partner, too busy trying to make them jealous to notice the abundance of women watching them. 

It’s when Mapi’s hand reaches around to practically palm at her teammate's chest as she turns her head into her hair to speak to her in such an intimate way that Alexia finally snaps, Ingrid right along with her. In reality, the top of her thumb only made it far enough up to graze at the underside of her chest, but that feels like semantics to the Barcelona midfielders right now. 

“Come to dance?” Alexia is asked by her girlfriend as she presses into their space, and the blonde looks nearly murderous. Ingrid isn’t really paying attention to them though, far too focused on letting her eyes rove up and down Maria, who is pointedly choosing not to look at her in favor of the discussion, or rather lack thereof, that is happening in front of them. 

“I think we’ve had enough dancing,” the Spaniard grits out as she pulls her girlfriend flush with her side, not even bothering with a goodbye before the two are moving through the club, leaving the Spaniard and Norwegian alone. 

It’s only at this point that Mapi finally lets her eyes meet Ingrid, and she can’t help but bite her lip to force back a whimper at the look that Ingrid is giving her, at the intensity of it. She entirely misses the way that a triumphant smile is thrown back at her by her teammate, clearly thrilled that their plan has worked, in favor of holding Ingrid’s green eyes, which could only be described as smoldering. 

She was completely entranced, didn’t even care about the fact that everyone around them was dancing, can’t do anything but hold Ingrid’s gaze, can’t tear her eyes away from the green ones watching her so closely. 

It’s only when Ingrid looks away, clearing her throat lightly that Mapi feels herself suck in a breath, unaware that she had even been holding it to begin with. 

“Dance?” Ingrid asks lightly, her tone too innocent and unassuming given the circumstances. It honestly throws the defender for a loop, but she chooses to follow along. She expected for Ingrid to get possessive in the way that Alexia had, but it’s clear that the Norwegian is playing a bit longer of a game then the blonde captain had been able to manage. 

“Sure,” Mapi acquiesces, and Ingrid turns on a dime, pressing her entire body back into the Spaniard, who grips it with ease. They’ve been together for long enough to know each other's bodies well, perhaps even better than their own. 

And still, Ingrid pressed against her feels like the most natural thing in the world for the brunette. Dancing to make their respective girlfriends jealous was fine if not a bit awkward, tense and tight, the knowledge that neither of them really wanted to be doing it other than to make someone jealous, not allowing them to really enjoy it. 

But it isn’t like that with the Norwegian, quite the opposite in fact. Her hips move in time with Mapi, her back completely flush with the Spaniard’s front. The brunette’s hands reach around to grasp at Ingrid’s hips, pulling her impossibly closer as she ground into the dark haired woman, trying not to let out a whimper when the Norwegian arched her back. 

They’ve been dancing together for a few minutes when Ingrid finally places one of her hands over Mapi’s, pulling it up and over her stomach and chest, reminiscent of something that the Spaniard did just a few minutes ago with another woman. 

Mapi swallowed as Ingrid brought her hand up high and higher, until it was fully on top of her right breast, and she squeezed Mapi’s hand lightly, the defender's hand pressed under the midfielders meaning that she ended up gently kneading the Norwegian’s chest at the action. The Spaniard lets out a harsh breath at the feeling, at the action itself but also the publicity of it. 

Ingrid loved her girlfriend very much, but she admittedly was no longer huge on such sexual public displays. And it had been months since she was this forward in public, and it was turning Mapi on so much that it was practically painful. She remembered the early days of their relationship, when she had been so attracted and desperate for the defender that they couldn’t even make it home, but rather had to fuck in the club bathroom, the Norwegian’s hand clamped over her mouth to keep her from getting them caught.

Alexia’s jealousy might have burned hot and bright, but Ingrid’s simmered. It continued even when Mapi’s hands were all over her body in wildly inappropriate ways, low and threatening, more contained but no less deadly when it finally did strike. 

Ingrid threw her head back on Mapi’s shoulder, her back once again arching as she tilted her head toward the Spaniard, her nose brushing against the defender's neck before she spoke. Her voice was thick and low, and Mapi felt her legs involuntarily clench together at the feeling. But the words out of her mouth are ones that the brunette wasn’t expecting, and it causes her to do a bit of a double take. 

“Did she feel better than me?” Ingrid husks, and Mapi stills against her, her expression jumping in surprise. It seemed like an outrageous question, with the simplest of answers. 

Never.

“What?” She asks, the surprise evident in her tone. It’s at this that Ingrid pulls away entirely, spinning around until her front is pressed into Mapi’s, their chests pressed together as she looks at the defender, their faces barely inches apart. It’s then that the Spaniard sees the jealousy, painted into the lines of her girlfriend's face. 

“I said. Did. She. Feel. Better. Than. Me?” Ingrid spits out, each individual word holding a note of malice, and Mapi’s eyes narrow as she presses further into Ingrid, their lips brushing together, not caring who saw them. 

“No.” Mapi answers plainly, because it’s an answer that doesn’t need to be undressed to be completely true. 

“Prove it,” Ingrid snaps in response, and one of Mapi’s eyebrows lifts in surprise at her tone, but she pulls back slightly before nodding, grabbing the Norwegian’s hand and intending to lead them toward the exit, when the midfielder changes their direction, headed toward the bathrooms instead. 

“Not there. Here. Right now,” Ingrid insists, and Mapi genuinely can’t believe that she’s hearing these words come out of her girlfriend's mouth, but she also doesn’t complain in the slightest. If anything, it’s more of a relief to know that the Norwegian still wants her this much, in this way. Not that Mapi doubted that very often, but occasionally when times like these last few weeks occurred, it was an inevitability. 

Ingrid and Mapi had been together for nearly two years now, and the Spaniard sometimes wondered if she would ever grow tired of this, if their sex life would ever become boring. It was what had scared her about a long term relationship, but she found that the more that she grew to love Ingrid, the more she grew to enjoy and find the fun with experimenting in their relationship. She felt safe to let go, and not like she was contained in the ways she thought a relationship would bring. 

Two years later, and there’s nobody else Mapi would ever fuck in a club bathroom, on the side of the road, in a bed, against the kitchen counter, anywhere, than whereever she was with Ingrid. 

Ingrid leads them back toward the bathrooms of the club with little fanfare. There are separate rooms, two for the men and two for the women. The midfielder drags the two of them to the last one, all but shoving Mapi in the door and stepping in after her, clicking the lock shut before she’s on the Spaniard, pressing her back into the wall as their mouths finally meet. 

The kiss is hot and desperate and needy, Ingrid’s mouth hard against Mapi’s, swallowing the light moan that the Spaniard lets out at the feeling of Ingrid’s body pressed so close to hers. The Norwegian leans back just far enough to splay one of her hands on the defender's abdomen, her lips moving down toward Mapi’s neck. 

The brunette can’t help the whine that slips past her lips when Ingrid nips at her neck, and she can feel the way that the dark haired woman smiles against her skin as she soothes it with her tongue. Her mouth is insistent and unwavering in its path, kissing anywhere and everywhere as a litany of tiny breathy noises slips past the defenders lips. She moves up Mapi’s neck rapidly, before pulling back so that her mouth is right next to the Spaniard's ear. 

“You know how much I love to hear how much you want me, but you’re going to get us caught María,” Ingrid murmurs before she returns to Mapi’s neck, her movements now languid and relaxed, a sharp contrast to the mildly frantic nature of her kisses before she stopped. 

Mapi squirms uncomfortably, the ache between her legs growing hard to ignore. She can’t remember the last time she was this turned on, the last time she wanted Ingrid this badly. The brunette had a bit of a reputation for being rather voracious when it came to sex, and today was no different. 

But the Norwegian is merciful, if only for the fact that she is equally as desperate, her hand descending rapidly south, her nimble fingers popping the button of Mapi’s pants before she pulls the leather down with a sharp tug. The midfielder managed to get the material to Mapi’s mid thigh, and that's really all the space she needs in honesty. 

Ingrid cups the Spaniard over her underwear, letting out a harsh breath at how wet she found the fabric under her. Her expression told a different story, and when Mapi managed to work her eyes open she found a frown written across Ingrid’s face, one that made her pause, just slightly. 

She’s about to ask Ingrid what’s wrong when without any warning whatsoever the midfielder shoves the brunette’s underwear to the side, sinking two fingers into the wet heat she finds between Mapi’s thighs. 

The defender muffles her sharp cry with a hand to her mouth, her eyes slamming shut as stars practically erupt before her closed eyelids. Between the combination of dancing, the fact that it’s been weeks, and the stretch of two fingers right from the get go, Mapi is already painfully close. 

Ingrid moves her fingers achingly slowly, and Mapi lets a little mewl past her fingers that has the Norwegian looking up at her sharply, clearly unimpressed. She clamps her hand over her mouth once more, her hips rutting down, chasing the light friction she’s being given. 

It doesn’t really matter though. She’s so turned on that if Ingrid asked her to come, she probably would. It’s not going to take much. 

Mapi knows it. 

Ingrid knows it. 

But the midfielder is still slightly desperate to drag this on despite the circumstances, so she continues with her bitterly slow pace as she looks Mapi in the eyes, her face tilted as she asks her the question. 

“Would her fingers have felt better? Is it her who you imagine when I’m inside of you?” Ingrid taunts, the anger clear in her tone. 

Mapi was hers, and hers alone. 

She didn’t share. 

“No, god no,” Mapi gasps out as Ingrid picks up her pace, faster and faster and faster until the Spaniard is gripping at her shoulders tightly, chasing the pleasure to the ends of the earth. 

“Who is it you want then?” Ingrid husks, and the sound of her voice combined with the relentless pace is the thing that sends Mapi over the edge out of nowhere, a loud moan spilling out of her mouth as the coil within her snaps. 

“You!” The defender moans out as her back arches into Ingrid, making a complete mess of her underwear as her body shakes and Ingrid grips her tightly. The Norwegian had to admit that she had been expecting the orgasm, but not for it to happen so quickly or quite so pornographically in nature, but she isn’t complaining. She simply holds her girlfriend as she comes down from her high, knowing what her next move is but also not wanting to be completely inconsiderate. 

It’s only when Mapi’s body fully relaxes back into the wall that Ingrid slips out of her, walking over to the paper towel holder and cleaning her fingers before she moves toward the door. 

“Car. Now.” Ingrid doesn’t even bother with full sentences, instead making her intention perfectly clear with two singular words. The Spaniard is quick to pull her pants up and button them, following the Norwegian out of the bathroom stall and to the car, where Ingrid slipped into the driver's seat. She had only had a few sips of her negroni, and didn’t even feel tipsy beyond the slight headiness of getting Maria off. 

Speaking of, the defender had sat down in the car and barely closed her door before Ingrid was pulling away from the curb. Once they had gotten onto the road, the midfielder slid her right hand over, placing it as far up as she possibly could on Mapi’s thigh. The dark haired woman shows no evidence of being affected, compared to the brunette, who whimpers slightly as she shifts in her seat, moving toward Ingrid imperceptibly. 

Despite the fact that she’s already had an orgasm, Mapi still feels desperate. She was hoping that coming would help to satiate her, but it seems to have only done the opposite. She needs Ingrid twice as much as she did at the club, and she’s fighting to sit still in her seat and not suggest they pull over for a repeat of the club, but on the side of the road. 

And Ingrid is absolutely no help. Mapi isn’t sure if her desperation is all that transparent or if Ingrid is egging her on, but halfway through the drive she begins to rub tiny circles into the skin of Mapi’s inner thigh. It’s over the leather of her pants, but it’s still enough for the Spaniard to bite her lip to keep from letting out a grunt of frustration. 

Mapi is so desperate in fact, that when Ingrid finally pulls the car up to their parking spot, she doesn’t even bother with allowing the Norwegian to get out of the car. She simply climbs over the center console, pressing down to shift Ingrid’s seat all the way back before she lands squarely in her lap. It’s a tight fit, but she honestly doesn’t give a flying fuck. 

The defender wastes absolutely no time, gripping Ingrid’s face in her hands as she smashes their lips together in a searing kiss. Ingrid’s hands fly up to hold the Spaniard’s side, keeping her body flush with the Norwegian in the cramped car.

But Mapi doesn’t care, she simply presses her lips to Ingrid’s again and again and again, teeth clashing and thirst unquenchable as she slips her tongue into the midfielders mouth. She can’t help the grunt that shoves itself out when Ingrid slides her hands lower, palming at Mapi’s ass over the leather of her pants. The defender grinds down into Ingrid, even with how cramped her legs are, chasing any, any kind of friction. 

Ingrid somehow manages to work one of her knees toward Mapi, so when the Spaniard grinds down again she is hit with an actual surface to grind against, and she tips her head back in an unabashed moan. 

“Come on María, come for me,” Ingrid encourages, not expecting for much to happen from it. They’ve hardly done anything, and it’s nothing but a little bit of dirty grinding. They haven’t even lost any of their clothes yet. 

But it only takes a few desperate movements from the brunette, directed in pace by Ingrid’s hands which are still on her ass, for Mapi’s head to fall back once more, her mouth opening in a silent cry as she crashes over the edge, Ingrid staring at her with wide eyes. It wasn’t a big orgasm, and it wasn’t really satisfying in the way that the defender desperately needed, but it was still an orgasm nonetheless. 

The Norwegian couldn’t help but be surprised. Between the orgasm in the club and now one here in the car, she was starting to understand perhaps why Mapi had done the things in the club that she had. It didn’t excuse them, but she understood it now, at least. 

And if she really was this desperate, then Ingrid was determined to give her exactly what she needed. Not without a little bit of teasing, however. 

Ingrid leans over to pop her car door open, taking a moment to look at the foggy windows of her car before Mapi was stepping off of her and out toward their apartment, Ingrid following her quickly. 

Mapi kept her head angled away from Ingrid, more than a little embarrassed about her now two orgasms. She knew she seemed desperate, but she really wished that she had more resolve than this. She wasn’t sure what Ingrid was thinking after that last orgasm, and her cheeks remained flush with embarrassment as they came to their front door. The Norwegian unlocked it for them before she held the door for her girlfriend, who still refused to meet her eyes. 

Mapi tried to move past the entryway, but Ingrid wouldn’t let her. The midfielder grasped the defender's wrist, forcing her to turn around to face her. 

“María?” Ingrid asked lightly, her tone a complete contrast to the entire night thus far. Now that the defender won’t even meet her eyeline, she needs to understand what is actually going on here. “What’s going on?” 

Mapi shrugs, pulling her arm back to herself before she offers a half assed answer. 

“I don’t know. It’s been awhile,” she commented off handedly, and Ingrid felt understanding begin to wash over her as she took Maria in. The flush of her cheeks, the way she was shifting from foot to foot, how she refused to meet the midfielder’s eyes after the orgasm in the car. 

“Are you a little needy, corazón?” Ingrid asked, her voice low and thick, and Mapi looked up to find that the same fire that burned deep within her was mirrored back at her in the Norwegian’s eyes. 

The shame she had felt walking back from the car melted away as she nodded, swallowing roughly. Ingrid had this uncanny ability to make her feel incredibly seen, even in instances like this, right now. 

“Yes. For you, and only you,” Mapi adds the last sentence at the last second, and just as she hoped that it would, Ingrid’s face twisted into a satisfied smirk as she moved toward the Spaniard. The midfielder decides in that moment to take a bit of a different approach than what she had originally planned on. Because as much as Mapi had missed Ingrid, the Norwegian had missed the Spaniard just as much. Getting herself off in an empty hotel room devoid of the defender was no match to the real thing standing here in front of her. To the muscled and tattooed form she knew was hiding under all of that clothing, the soft peaks accompanied by taut and muscled valleys of her tan, tattooed skin. 

So she decides to go about this in a way that will satisfy both of them, eventually . 

“There’s other ways to get my attention than to put your hands all over another woman, you know that María?” Ingrid muses, her tone unserious but her words far more goading than Mapi had expected, and the brunette rushes to explain herself. 

“I didn’t–” Mapi starts, only for Ingrid to press her back into the wall, her face inches from the defenders, once again. Her words are low and dripping with sex appeal, and if Mapi’s underwear weren’t already completely ruined it would be now. 

“If you need me to fuck you, you tell me. Because you’re mine, and I don’t share with anyone, not our teammates, not the needy women at the club who eyefuck you, nobody.” Ingrid presses two of her fingers into the entrance of Mapi’s mouth, the Spaniards jaw slackening to allow for her to take the middle and ring finger of the midfielder into her mouth. Ingrid doesn't need to tell her for Mapi to know that she is supposed to suck, and that’s exactly what she does, her eyes never leaving Ingrid’s as she rolls her tongue over and over again. 

Ingrid removes her fingers from Mapi’s mouth before she quickly steps out of her jeans, shucking off her pants and underwear before she slips her top off, and Mapi is rewarded with the sight of her bare chest. 

Mapi follows suit, tugging her leather pants down before she undoes the tie of her corset top, tearing it off her skin, not caring if she ripped the stitching. She reaches back to unclip her bra, discarding it on the ground with little care as she returns to look at Ingrid. 

But what she finds surprises her, because out of all the options she would have counted on, to look back and find her girlfriend touching herself was not one that Mapi was prepared for. Ingrid is pressed up against the opposite wall, her hand moving over her clit in small, tight circles as she breathes harshly, and it fills Mapi with a flare of jealousy, one that Ingrid immediately clocks, a smirk on her face before she opens her mouth to let out a breathy moan. 

“Oh what? You want to help get me off, not her?” Ingrid asks lightly, her hips canting down slightly as her fingers speed up, and Mapi practically growls at the implication, her hands tightening into a fist. But Ingrid isn’t done yet, instead continuing to provoke her girlfriend, obsessed with the way that Maria is looking at her, all protective and filled with want. 

“We could always call Alexia. I’m sure she would have no problem fucking me into next Tuesday if I asked,” Ingrid hums lightly, and the Spaniard’s lips pulled back in a snarl at the thought, suddenly feeling even more territorial. It’s that comment that finally snaps her restraint, and she charges across the hallway, shoving Ingrid’s fingers away from herself so that she can replace them with her own. The thought of Alexia having Ingrid like this, of anyone but her having Ingrid like this is enough to make her shudder with poorly concealed jealousy.  

The Spaniard coats her fingers in the copious wetness that was accumulating between Ingrid’s legs before she slipped a finger into the midfielder, who let out a ragged sigh at the feeling. Her head thumped back against the wall as Mapi attached her lips to the sensitive skin of Ingrid’s neck. She works her lips and tongue down the column of her throat, stopping to suck harshly at her pulse point as the Norwegian lets out another breathy groan, opening her eyes to find Mapi looking at her with blown pupils and hooded eyes. 

It’s all the encouragement needed for the dark haired woman to press herself further into Mapi, slipping her own hand in between their bodies to curl into the defender as well. 

Mapi moans, not having expected Ingrid to do it, but she squirms and presses closer to the Norwegian at the feeling as she doubles down, increasing her pace, desperate to get Ingrid over the edge. 

Desperate for Ingrid to only want her, and her alone. 

Ingrid curls her fingers within Mapi, and the brunette's pace stutters as she lets out a keening whine, and Ingrid smirks around a groan that she lets out, looking far too self satisfied. 

But Mapi’s face is still set in what can only be described as jealousy, and she increases her pace as Ingrid does as well. 

Ingrid is closer than Mapi, but she shakes her head, clamping down on the brunette's fingers, forcing her to slow her pace. 

“Together,” Ingrid insists, grits out really as she fights her own impending orgasm, and Mapi watches her for a second before she nods, focusing on her own pleasure for a moment as Ingrid’s fingers curl tighter into her. Mapi grips the Norwegian’s shoulder with her free hand, nearly sobbing in relief at the feeling of Ingrid so deeply inside of her, and just when she’s on the crest does she nod fervently. Ingrid relaxes herself, allowing for Mapi to pick up her pace once more. 

Their front hallway is filled with the sound of choked sobs and low moans as the two women fall over the precipice, Mapi first and then Ingrid right after her, holding tightly to one another as their bodies shake and work through their respective orgasm. 

Ingrid is the first of the two of them to fully come back to herself, but she allows for Mapi to remain tightly wound to her as the Spaniard shudders through her orgasm, letting out a sigh of relief as she lets out a final shake. 

The Norwegian is looking at her with quirked lips, and Mapi looks slightly hazy, having finally, finally having gotten some of the relief that she had been craving so acutely. 

Without words, the midfielder steps back into her space, pressing her lips to the corner of Mapi’s mouth for a moment before the Spaniard turns into her, kissing her properly. 

Ingrid grips Mapi’s hand, bringing it forward to press it to her stomach before she slid it up, over her chest. Mapi took the hint easily, kneading at Ingrid’s breasts as the Norwegian whimpered slightly, a smirk still on her lips. 

“And to think,” Ingrid began, her lips just barely ghosting over Mapi’s, they were so close together. 

“It could be Alexia doing this,” the midfielder mused, and it’s enough to make Mapi’s whole face darken as she pulls back sharply.

“No.” Mapi answers simply, trying to sound tough, but it comes out rather breathy and needy. 

“No? And why is that?” Ingrid asks, and Mapi is happy to supply the answer. 

“You’re mine,” Mapi answers simply, and Ingrid grins devilishly before she pushes the Spaniard back slightly, offering her a wink before she begins to head to the bedroom. 

Ingrid had the defender right where she wanted her, and she wasn’t about to let that go to waste. When Mapi slips in the door just a second after her, she’s greeted with the sight of Ingrid bent over, her perfect ass on display as she looks through their toy drawer. 

Mapi was honestly expecting Ingrid to grab something to use on her, given the possessive nature of the Norwegian earlier in the night, but what she forgot to factor in was that perhaps Ingrid was just as desperate for some relief as she was. 

So maybe Mapi really can’t be all that surprised when Ingrid tosses her the strap, before fishing out the toy she wants to use. It’s a green one, long and thin, and a personal favorite of the midfielder. The Norwegian watches with hungry eyes as Mapi attaches the toy to the strap before stepping into the harness, taking care to cinch it up all without her gaze ever leaving Ingrids. 

When Mapi is finally getting the last few straps adjusted, Ingrid points toward the bed wordlessly, and despite the eyebrow raise she receives, the Spaniard is quick to obey, laying down on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows to watch Ingrid. 

The dark haired woman walks toward the bed slowly, climbing on top of Mapi and settling on her lap, her core connecting with the toy that is laying dormant on the defender's stomach. 

Ingrid leans down, attaching her lips to Mapi’s chest, swirling her nipple around with her tongue and laving it with attention before she switches to her other breast. Mapi laid back on the bed at the sensation, her chest arching up into the Norwegian’s mouth as one of her hands came to tangle in Ingrid’s dark, thick hair. The brunette doesn’t direct her exactly, but when she pulls lightly on Ingrid’s hair she is rewarded with a moan that is pressed into her skin. 

Ingrid kisses up between the valley of her breasts, over her collarbone and up over her neck, nipping at her neck tattoo before she moves to suck earnestly at Mapi’s throat. It takes all of her energy for the Spaniard to not writhe under the Norwegian’s careful ministrations, and Ingrid can’t help but smirk into her neck by how taut and tense Mapi’s body has become. 

The midfielder finally moves until her nose is just to the outer edge of Mapi’s ear, her head turned in toward the brunette. ‘

“Have you ever considered María,” Ingrid drawls, her voice low and positively dripping with sex, “that I might need you just as much as you need me?” 

The dark haired woman provides no further elaboration before she is off of Mapi, reaching for the bottle of lube and squirting some into her hand, gripping the dildo and coating it appropriately, making sure to press it back into the harness and toward Mapi’s body when she moves downward. It’s not a two way strap by any means, but the Spaniard can feel the pressure against her navel, and her hips buck up of their own volition at the slightest bit of friction. 

With a smile, Ingrid wipes her hand on a clean towel they keep in their toy drawer before she slips back onto Mapi’s lap, her knees on either side of the Spaniard’s hips. She reaches down to grip the dildo, bringing it up so that she can sink onto it, very, very slowly. 

It’s not a thick dildo, but Ingrid is still tight and it shows. Mapi remains laying but she opens her eyes to watch the show, as Ingrid presses further and further down with each pass, giving herself time to adjust. 

When she finally does bottom out, she makes sure to move her hips in a circular motion, just like she knows that Mapi likes, just like she knows will drive the defender crazy. 

If Mapi can tease, so can Ingrid. 

And tease, she does.

The Norwegian is near pornographic in her display, moving up and down as her chest bounces, and she arches her back as a moan ripples out of her mouth. 

Her hands have come first to run through her hair, and when she looks down Mapi is looking at her in exactly the way the midfielder wants her to, like some sort of ethereal person. Ingrid, at least to herself, might be far from it, but she would never lie and say that Mapi looking at her this way didn’t turn her on. 

She can feel her wetness running down the inside of her thighs as she continues, picking up her pace as more groans and whines slip from her lips. She’s closer now, probably needs a little bit of stimulation on her clit to send her over the edge, but she wants to make it last a little bit longer, wants Mapi to look at her like this a little longer. 

When the defender reaches up to palm at her chest Ingrid is quick to stop her, grasping her wrist as her pace stutters, the midfielder sitting down and shifting her hips side to side in slow motions. 

“Uh-huh. Touching is only for Alexia, right? Just like you touched her?” Ingrid asks in a saccharinely sweet tone, and Mapi’s eyes widen in surprise as Ingrid lets go of her hand, reaching down to play with her own clit for a few seconds as she resumed her pace. It only took her a few more moments to crest over the edge, a broken cry leaving her lips as her body contracts, her chest pressing up as she slides the hand that had been on her clit up her body to palm at her own chest. 

Meanwhile, the Spaniard has been left absolutely fuming under Ingrid, and she doesn’t even allow the Norwegian to fully come down from her orgasm before she’s flipping the two of them, the dark haired woman landing squarely on her back with Mapi over her. 

The defender doesn’t even bother saying anything, she simply moves Ingrid’s legs to open her up before she begins to press into her, her eyes watching for any sense of true discomfort. 

They had a safe word, and they’ve used it before, but Mapi is always still conscious to check. She knows they push the boundaries of this sort of thing on occasion, but when she looks at Ingrid she finds nothing but acceptance looking back at her. 

The dark haired woman pants Mapi’s name as the brunette rolls her hips into the Norwegian’s over and over and over again, her pace quick and efficient. 

Ingrid is losing her grip on reality slightly, completely overcome with pleasure as she looks up at the defender. She’s still sensitive from her last orgasm, and the pleasure is nearly all consuming when Mapi gets this focused. The Spaniard is bracing herself on either side of Ingrid’s chest, her arms flexed as she presses down toward Ingrid again and again and again, and the Norwegian can’t find it within herself to be of any complaint. 

“You’re mine,” Mapi grunts out as her hips slap into Ingrid’s, and the Norwegian’s mouth opens in a deliciously unabashed moan as she nods insistently, too far gone to remember the little game they had been playing. 

“I’m yours María, all yours,�� Ingrid gasps as Mapi slams into her, and the defender can’t help the groan she lets out at hearing Ingrid say that she was hers. Her hair is fanned out on the pillow, a dark contrast against the white bedsheets, and her cheeks are flushed as she bites her lip, her chest positively heaving, stuttering with pleasure. 

Mapi’s positive she’s never seen anything more gorgeous, and when Ingrid finally comes it’s in a silent cry, her abdominal muscles rippling as a guttural moan finally appears as she comes with a force. There are tears leaking out of her eyes as her body arches into the feeling, and Mapi is quick to pull out and work her middle finger and ring finger over Ingrid’s clit in tight circles, and just when Ingrid is sure that she can’t take anymore, the Spaniard slips her fingers into the midfielder. 

Ingrid’s mouth opens as her chest arches, but Mapi is relentless. 

The defender is completely insatiable, never wants to see anything but Ingrid come like this again and again. 

“María, María, I–” Ingrid tries, but hearing the Norwegian moan her name is doing nothing but making the Spaniard work harder, her two fingers curling into the midfielder as her thumb teases her clit over and over and over again. 

Ingrid comes without warning, a warm gush of liquid spilling over Mapi’s hand and out onto their bedsheets, as her body convulses, her lover's name slipping from her lips like a prayer as her third orgasm shudders through her. 

Mapi works her through it gently, far more smug with herself than she had been when she had come inside the house initially. The ache between her own thighs has grown entirely unbearable, but all she cares about is Ingrid as she settles next to the Norwegian, whose eyes are still screwed tightly shut, her chest working overtime to get air to her lungs. 

Aftershakes work their way through her body as Mapi places a hand delicately on her stomach, a soothing presence rather than an overly sexual one. It takes her a few minutes to come back to herself, but eventually the midfielders breath evened out, and she places her own hand over Mapi’s as she looks over at the Spaniard, who is propped up on one elbow looking at her. 

“Better?” Mapi asks softly, in reference to the thing Ingrid had last said before she had started fucking herself on the strap. Ingrid swallows thickly as she takes Mapi in, how thready and tight her body appears, the way her legs are crossed even as she lays in bed, all of the hallmark signs that her girlfriend needs to get off. 

Ingrid knew this when she got into a relationship with the Spaniard. Mapi’s sex drive was on another planet, and the Norwegian loved it about her. She could go for hours and hours, and was completely bottomless not only in her desire, but also in her ability to give. 

The Norwegian knew if she asked to stop that Mapi would easily agree, likely slipping off to the bathroom to get herself off once or twice before she returned to Ingrid, wrapping her arms around the Norwegian and letting her fall asleep on her chest. 

But Ingrid, despite being blissed out currently, is more than happy to continue this. So she shakes her head, one eyebrow raising as she raked her eyes over the defender's bare figure. 

“No,” Ingrid answered simply before she sat up, leaning over into the Spaniard’s space and pressing her down onto the bed with a hand on her sternum. 

“Can’t have you going to bed with the feeling of your hands on her now, can I?” Ingrid teases, but it lacks most of the bite of earlier. Mapi only smirks back at her as the Norwegian returns to her chest once more. She’s more thorough in her attention this time around, less desperate for herself and more attuned to Mapi’s body. She flattens her tongue against the defender's nipple as she brings a hand up to pinch at the opposing nipple, smiling into the brunette’s chest as she whines at the feeling. 

Ingrid kisses her way down Mapi’s abdomen, licking a line down her abs before she nips at the skin there playfully, enjoying the way that Mapi’s hips jump at the contact. 

The Norwegian has to take a few minutes when she finally meets her destination to pull at the cinches of the strap, undoing it before she carefully slides it down Mapi’s legs, the brunette lifting her hips to help the Norwegian get it off. 

Ingrid rids it of the green dildo before she sets it carefully to the side, well aware that she’ll be coming back for it shortly. But for now she turns back to her girlfriend, well aware of her current destination. 

Mapi can’t help but spread her legs wider as Ingrid settles between her legs, looking up at the Spaniard once more before she lowers herself right toward where the defender wanted her. 

“You sure you don’t want me to call Ale, ask her if she can send her little girlfriend back here to get you off instead of me?” Ingrid offers, so close to Mapi that she can feel the hot breath from her speaking, right where she needs the midfielder. 

“God, no Ingrid, I just want you,” Mapi promises, trying her hardest not to squirm as she nods her head. Ingrid seems to be satisfied with that answer, and she leans down, bracing her hands on either of Mapi’s thighs as she licks through the defender. 

The Spaniard lets out an ungodly noise as her hips jump into Ingrid’s mouth, and the Norwegian can’t help but moan at the taste of the defender, salty and wonderful and just as she remembers it, even after all this time. 

Ingrid moves up to flick Mapi’s clit, first side to side and then up and down with her tongue as the brunette’s hands bunch in the sheets, grunting at the feeling of Ingrid’s soft tongue against her. 

The Spaniard clenches her thighs around Ingrid’s head, pulling her in as she brings Mapi’s clit into her mouth earnestly, sucking hard as the defender bites back a scream. 

Mapi struggles to keep her hips pinned to the bed, and when she arches for the third time the Norwegian slides her hand up to press it over the base of the defender’s navel, keeping her hips trapped down to the bed sheets. 

Once she is assured that the defender won’t move, the midfielder dives back in, slipping her tongue into the wet heat between the defender's thigh, letting the slick coat her lips and chin as she pressed further and further into the brunette. 

Ingrid wasn’t trying to tease, she was far past that at this point, and she smiled when she felt the familiar tightening of Mapi’s abdomen, still working herself against the defender as she slipped two fingers into the Spaniard, curling them quickly and effectively. 

Mapi cried out, gasping Ingrid’s name as she came with the Norwegian’s finger buried deep within her, her tongue working her clit over in circles as she came down from her high. She sucked in air in a greedy fashion, only realizing once she opened her eyes that Ingrid wasn’t on the bed with her anymore, but rather standing next to her, currently getting herself adjusted to the strap. 

Mapi’s eyes widened in surprise before her pupils dilated, the thought of Ingrid fucking into her a more than welcome thought. The dark haired woman had attached Mapi’s favorite toy to the strap, the red one with ridges, and just the sight of it practically has the Spaniard drooling in want. 

“All fours,” Ingrid instructs, and the defender is quick to pop up and settle just as Ingrid had told her. One look at the wetness between the brunette’s thighs is enough for the midfielder to know that she probably doesn’t need any sort of lube, but she does it regardless, not wanting Mapi to be uncomfortable. 

Mapi has settled herself on the edge of the bed, and Ingrid walks right over to her and places her dominant hand on the small of the Spaniard’s back. She runs her hand over the tattoos she finds there, the cross, the lion, the two sphynx’s, the lotus flower at the base of her neck. 

She runs her hand down the defenders spine, trailing it with just one finger and smiling at the way that Mapi shivered under her before she palmed at the Spaniard’s ass appreciatively before she finally returned to exactly where Mapi wanted her. 

Ingrid eases the strap into Mapi slowly, allowing her time to adjust to it as she moves in and out of her shallowly. It didn’t take long for the Spaniard to adjust, arching her chest into the ground and throwing her head back as she pressed back into Ingrid. 

The Norwegian grips at Mapi’s hip for security, beginning to set a slow rhythm of pumping into the defender. But Mapi wants more, and faster, and she reaches around with one hand to grasp at the midfielders thigh, encouraging Ingrid to go faster. 

“Please, more,” Mapi practically begs, and Ingrid smirks at the desperation in her tone but she obliges all the same, beginning to move faster and faster. 

The brunette lets out a ragged sigh at the feeling, her head still thrown back as her hips press up. The Spaniard drops down onto her elbows, changing the angle and releasing a groan at the feeling as Ingrid continued, her pace quickening. She’s reaching the perfect spot, and it only continues with her next movement. 

The Norwegian reaches forward with one hand to toy with the defender's clit, knowing that Mapi was close, and knowing that this was going to be a good orgasm. The muscles of the brunette’s back were rippling as her chest contracted and spasmed, and her breathing wasn’t so much breathing as it was raspy moans. 

Mapi was tightening around the strap, making it hard for Ingrid to move even as she continued to pump in and out of the Spaniard, her hand working tirelessly over the defender's clit. 

Mapi can’t even stop the whines to warn Ingrid that she is going to come, not that she needed to. Ingrid could tell, and she chased it, pressing faster and harder into the Spaniard as the coil inside Mapi snapped, sending her crashing over the edge violently as her body spasms and contracts. 

There is stillness in the bed for a moment, the brunette suspended in pleasure before her entire body begins to shake with the force of her orgasm, Ingrid’s name falling from her mouth in a breathy moan, reverent as her entire body relaxes into the mattress, her hips still up in the air, Ingrid still completely inside of her. 

The dark haired woman leans forward to press a line of open mouthed kisses to the defenders spine softly, allowing her to come down from her orgasm slowly before she slipped out of her, stepping out of the strap and discarding it to the side before she made for the bathroom briskly. 

Mapi is still laying on the bed when Ingrid returns, brandishing a wet washcloth that she uses to clean first the defender, and then herself before she discards it back in the bathroom. By the time she manages to get back to bed the defender is settled against the pillows, her chest and face flushed but alert, and she gestures for Ingrid to join her, something the Norwegian happily does. 

Ingrid curls into Mapi’s side as she always does, tilting her head up to ghost her nose over the skin of the brunette’s throat before she presses a featherlight kiss to her jaw, the softness a juxtaposition to the frantic yet deliberate sex they had just finished having. 

But this was one of the things Mapi loved about Ingrid, her ability to be just as sweet as she was sexy, to do those kinds of things in the bed before they curled into one another, their adoration just as prominent as their lust was. It was the first time that Mapi has felt that kind of balance with someone, and now she craves it almost as much as the actual sex itself sometimes. 

“You know,” Ingrid murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper but still audible nonetheless. “You don’t need to hump on one of our teammates to get me to fuck you, you know that right?” 

Her tone is gentle, forgiving and understanding in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. When Mapi doesn’t say anything, she continues. 

“I missed you just as much as you did me, I promise. We don’t need to let it get this bad, I just need you to talk to me. I had no idea how you were feeling,” Ingrid admits, because the fact was that she was relatively unaware of exactly how Mapi had been feeling, and she hates that. Maria is her favorite person, and she always wants to know what she is feeling or what she is concerned about or needed. 

Mapi sighed softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of Ingrid’s hair before she wrapped her arm tighter around the Norwegian, more protective and secure. 

“I know, you are right. In the future I will be more honest and try to communicate with you more about what I need and when,” Mapi vows, and there is silence for a few moments before she smirks, letting out a huff of a laugh before she speaks once more. 

“It was pretty nice to rile you up and get you all jealous like that, though, that was hot,” Mapi admits, and realizes as soon as she’s said it that it’s a mistake. 

“Really María? Well…I guess two can play at that game!”  “Wait, no I didn’t – what?!”