#will gladly take advantage of it though

[totaleclipse573]

Doleon and Starline are a fun pair (whether you ship them or not) bc both very clearly have some screws loose. They match each others levels of crazy and it’s fun to watch. The only difference is that where Doleon got to that point through traumatic things that he brought upon himself Starline was just like “Eggman………🥺” (this is NOT to say he was okay before. Even then he was a liiiittle crazy and I love him for it)

[wrioluvr]

『dumbass.』 slutty sub yandere x gentle himbo darling, male yandere x amab reader. pt 2

sub! yandere who likes to take advantage of your kind nature to fish for compliments. he would degrade himself in front of you, acting all self-loathing to get your attention. nothing compares to the rush he gets as you rush to comfort him, trying your best to make him feel better.

sub! yandere who gets so jealous when you're nice to anyone but him. true, that's one of the things he loves about you, but why do you have to be friendly to everyone? they're all sluts anyway, who only like you for your looks. he can't really be talking when he snuck a photo of your cock and had a dildo custom made to your size, thrusting it in and out of his tight hole whenever he's feeling especially lonely.

sub! yandere whose biggest fantasy is you fucking and spanking him until he can't walk. come to think of it, he's never really seen you angry, like ever. the idea of you upset with him is both terrifying and exciting, he doesn't want you to hate him, but also the thought of you hatefucking him is so... it's enough to make him feral. he's sure you have to have some pent up energy somewhere, he would gladly offer his body for you to abuse. he knows you would never ever consider hurting him, but one can dream, right?

"come onnn. let me give you head." he pleads, clinging onto your arm like it's a lifeline. his eyes prick with tears. much to his surprise, you're the one who gets on your knees, kneeling in front of him. "wait, what are you doing? i don't need you to please me first...." he starts to protest frantically, waving his hands about. "i thought you wanted to give me head? like...headpats?" "no, silly. head means i wanna suck your dick." "oh!" "speaking of headpats, can you pull my hair while i suck you off? like really hard, please." "i don't wanna hurt you, though-" "how many times do i have to say, you could literally murder me, and i would thank you." "...i don't think that's possible." "i'll find a way. so what i'm saying is, be as rough as you want. please." he gags on your length, relishing the feeling of it stretching the slick walls of his throat. no matter how many times he's done this, you always worry he'll hurt himself. "hey...you're okay, right?" you ask worriedly, stroking his hair. he responds by making eye contact with you, swirling his tongue around the tip of the head, eliciting a rather passionate response from you. "fuck, i'm gonna-" involuntarily, you grip his hair tighter and let out a load into his mouth. he came in his pants, too, from you merely tugging his hair a little forcefully. soft pants fill the room. this would be the perfect opportunity for them to degrade me right now, he thinks to himself. but you don't. instead, you take a tissue and dabble at the cum dripping down his chin, making sure to clean him up. he loves you and would never overstep your boundaries.... he just wishes you were a little meaner.

[enoe-of-noen]

An Mc who is warm

It’s cold down in the Devildom, why wouldn’t those closest to Mc use them as their very own portable heater?

☞ Established relationships, lots of words

Lucifer

Taking full advantage.

Steals Mc away on certain exhausting nights when the breeze is harsh. The scratching of branches raking the glass.

Loves to have you on his lap for maximum warmth.

Maybe, after he’s done with this pile, can you join him in bed?

Please take the offer. He won’t ask twice, but he really needs it.

When Mc finally agrees, after a bit of teasing, they’ll gladly snuggle in the eldest’s arms.

During the day, Lucifer makes it a point to have his hand on Mc whenever they see each other.

Whether it’s a holding theirs for a kiss, a hand on their shoulder, a hand in their hair, a hand on their cheek, etc.

Since he wears gloves, he finds it most effective to hug them briefly before leaving them to their activities.

Mammon

He’s grabsy

“My human!”

“Yoink!”

Mc is always stolen away by him at any. Given. Moment.

They’re never safe from his grasp.

Never.

Mammon’s hands are all over Mc!

In their hair, under their shirt massaging their back, on their cheeks, on their thighs, on their hips, whatever he feels like

He loves hugging Mc from behind

“Mmn, warm, warm for me.” He cooes

“Mams. I have to go.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Fym nuh uh?!”

Mc will not be leaving his grasp any time soon~

Leviathan

Wow! Humans are really warm!

“Mc, Mc! I hope this isn’t too much to ask but, can you…sit here, while I game tonight?”

Levi pointed at his lap, blushing furiously.

This is embarrassing, isn’t it?

Is it too much?

Is it too weird?!

He won’t worry too long though, it is pretty chilly tonight and Mc is down to cuddle <3

Loves feeling their hands on his cheeks, squeeze them a bit if you wanna~

Hisses softly whenever he feels their warm hands, always accompanied by a cute smile

Hides his face under Mc’s chin, having easy access to their collarbone

Prefers Mc touching him rather than him touching them most days

Lets him know he’s loved and that Mc wants to be there for him

In public, he’ll always be holding their hand

Satan

Kisses their palm whenever they go to touch his cheeks.

Feel free to use him as a chair, he absolutely loves the warmth and attention.

Pets Mc like a cat, playing with their hair.

“Just a second longer, dear,” he hums.

“You said that 30 minutes ago,” Mc grumbles, feeling stiff.

Satan laughs whenever you complain.

Doesn’t stop his arms snaking their way around your waist though.

“Good book, at least?” Mc looks at the book in Satan’s free hand.

“Very much so.” He grins.

Otherwise around in the Devildom, Satan always lends a hand for Mc to hold.

His hands get chilly easily~

Asmodeus

Y’all already know~

All over you, all the time!

I mean, who wouldn’t be down here?~

Your hands are easiest to access of course.

You have such nice hands to hold, hon~ <3

Loves it <33

Surprise hugs! Tight ones, might I add.

Humans sure are cuddly, I love it!!~

No moment together is spent apart by any means.

Hands, hair, hips, arms, cheek-to-cheek even!

You’ll never feel alone with Asmo around, that’s for sure!

Definitely gives Mammon a run for his money

Beelzebub

Best hugger around totally not biased

Loves when Mc is able to face him, that way he can feel their breath

A little reminder they’re alive

Besides, gives him easy kissing access which is also warm in temperature

Always at Mc’s side; they radiate heat in the cold, dark Devildom

Loves resting his hand on their stomach, it’s the second warmest part of their body!

Whenever they’re sitting on the couch, Beel makes it a point to get between Mc’s thighs

It is so incredibly warm

He doesn’t care that he gets stares, it’s too comfy not to do

Belphegor

His naps have transcended

He is blessed to have Mc down in the Devildom with him

Uses you more like a weighted blanket sometimes

Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles

Always slumps over Mc’s shoulder in public or when he’s too sleepy

Instant smile on his face, even if for a split second

“Belphie?”

“You’re warm.”

“…fine.”

Free head pats for being cute! That’s a win for Belphie!

His hands often travel

Maybe too much

This devious little shit

Diavolo

“Dearest Mc!”

Makes it a habit to ruffle your hair whenever he passes by.

You emit so much heat that he can feel it just by petting your scalp.

Humans are fascinating!

Whenever Mc gets to stay over at the castle, he adores resting his head on their lap.

Mc admits the slight bedhead he gets from it is adorable.

Big arms give big hugs!

Get hugged at the most unexpected moment, Mc! Hahaha!

Always catches Mc off guard (unlike with the brothers)

Barbatos

Busy man, unfortunately. Not many opportunities for him to appreciate your warmth.

However, when he does, his hands travel.

Skillfully removing his gloves desperately.

Your skin is soft under his.

“How about a massage, Mc?” He’ll offer.

Easiest way of feeling your warmth without too much creepiness.

Such a calming atmosphere.

How can one resist the temptation?

Simeon

It was difficult moving from the Celestial realm to the Devildom at first.

Until, of course, he met Mc.

Gloves on, gloves off, doesn’t matter.

Holds hands, hands in hair, hands on shoulder.

Seems to instinctively lean on Mc.

Mc found it weird but more endearing the closer they got.

Touches go both ways, Simeon giving way more access.

Surprisingly, having come somewhat recently from the Celestial realm, Mc also feels warm back.

A win-win situation!

Solomon

A little sappy to admit, but your warmth makes him feel so…human.

Reminds him of times he’d relax, longing for human interaction.

He’d gone so long without it, forgetting he was one himself.

Tears up when the thoughts get him late at night.

He’ll always have an arm wrapped around either your shoulder or waist.

Please keep close.

You give him so much just by being warm, his heart pounds.

No matter if his facade of being the all powerful wizard crumbles slightly, he’ll be human with you.

He is human with you.

Luke

Luke is clinging onto you everywhere!

Like a cute little koala

Holding onto your leg (if you’re tall enough)

Loves being carried by you (if you can), gets to snuggle real close

Holds your hand like a child being led by their parent

Reminds him of the warmth in the Celestial realm

Easily got close with you, no questions asked

Just a little bundle of joy!

Raphael

Despite not being seen around together often, Raphael makes an effort to offer his touch.

Being quite new and unfamiliar with the Devildom, he’s also unfamiliar with its coldness.

“Hello, Mc. I know this is an odd request, but may I hold your hand?”

If he absolutely needs it, he doesn’t see the problem with calling upon his heavenly spears.

Watch yourself, Mc.

Mephistopheles

Ah, Mc.

Whenever he sees you around, he enjoys the heat you radiate.

Oh, come closer. The students here are quite dangerous.

That’s a ploy.

He just wants contact. You’re very warm, you know?

Thirteen

Flamboyantly steals you away, as any great trickster would!

Never a quiet moment with her, whether it be her inventions or her rambles, you’ll love it

If not, she can take a hint

Touch, touch, touch! Blush, blush, blush! You are now her big fat crush!

Be honored, human, hahaha!

Can’t believe humans could be so warm!

A treasure to hold and keep!

Mine!

Often has to fight for it

Which is totally worth it when she wins

Don’t know the last three well, so yeah. Hope you enjoy. This took way longer than it should’ve.

[osachiyo]

EAT IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT ! ✘ 𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢, 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚, 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨 & 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — n/sfw content, headcanons + rating, female reader, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, pussy slapping, face-sitting, praise, overstimulation, etc

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i wrote this while being sick, so don't attack me if this has a lot of spelling mistakes and errors.. and i just wanted to write some silly little headcanons so my apologies if this isn't good lol happy reading as always and i hope you enjoy :3 (yes i did remove fedya from this sorry) NOT PROOFREAD

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — bsd men and how they eat the 😼

𝓓𝓪𝔃𝓪𝓲

this man is a MUNCHERRRR. will gladly eat you out any day of the week, any time of the day. he does not care if you're at work — will not hesitate drag you in a storage room of the agency and eat you out there. one time ranpo walked in on dazai giving you the most toe-curling head, and used that as blackmail on you two, demanding he'll keep quiet if you bought him candy for the rest of the week. safe to say that you put a ban on sex at work for a month (spoiler alert: you didn't last).

sit. on. his. face. make a mess on it — drench his face in your juices and he'll thank you. hell, even better if you ride it — he'll cum untouched so fast.

he's skilled in the art of eating pussy — knows all of your weak spots like the back of his hand. don't ask him how many times he's done this — he'll just flash you an innocent looking smile, never actually answering your question.

knows how to make you scream and takes advantage of that — urging you to cum over and over on his silver tongue, saying "just gimme one more, darling," only for it to turn into another, and another until you lose count.

he takes his time when giving you head — tongue tracing your hole all the way up to your clit, savouring the taste of your arousal before he devours you.

KEEPS EYE CONTACT !! works his mouth on your cunt while his big, warm, brown eyes filled with mirth stares at you the entire time, smirking at the beautiful expressions you make — loving how flustered you get from his gaze alone.

likes to use his fingers while eating you out — long digits probing at the rough patch of your g-spot while he sucks on your clit — a deadly combo that has you creaming in his mouth in seconds.

overall a 10/10, knows how to use his tongue and isn't afraid of using it.

𝓒𝓱𝓾𝓾𝔂𝓪

messy eater !! is not afraid of getting filthy, if he's gonna go down on you, might as well do it properly.

he's really into 69 ! not because he gets pleasured as well (though he's definitely not gonna complain about it), it's more of a physiological thing for him. it gets him so impossibly hard when you slobber and struggle to take his cock down your throat just because of the sheer pleasure he's giving you. it's adorable to see, really. also gives him an excuse to shove his cock down your throat himself, groaning something about "him doing all the work," but he wouldn't have it any other way.

as much as he loves pinning you to the bed, holding your hips down while shoving his face between your legs — he'd much rather eat it from the back. what can he say? he loves your ass — spreading it apart to bury his tongue into your hole, occasionally slapping or pinching your cheeks to tease you — it's pure filth.

he knows your limits, of course, but sometimes he can't help but go a little overboard — too lost in the feeling of lapping up your sweetness, circling your clit before dipping his tongue into your hole. it's best not to interrupt him during this — unless you actually want to stop, he's gonna pin you down harder with a low growl before getting back to his meal.

he doesn't use his fingers that often while eating you out — would much rather make you release on his tongue, but wouldn't mind indulging you if you really wanted it. gloved fingers probing at your sweet spot — groaning out praises for being so good for him.

he's a talker !! growling, muttering and even moaning words of encouragement while he eats your pussy — the vibrations of his lust-filled voice making your toes curl and head lull back.

9/10, he's less about technique and more about instinct — and it works.

𝓙𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓸

he's a sadist through and through — very into edging you. likes to hear your heartbeat speed up then suddenly drop when he pulls his face away from your cunt, laughing at your misery like it's the funniest thing in the world. don't get him wrong though — he eventually does let you cum, eventually.

when he's not edging you, he's overstimulating you. sometimes he does it right after edging you, too — didn't you want to cum? he's giving you what you wanted this whole time, you should thank him for it, really.

not afraid of using toys on you during he goes down on you — he loves hearing your desperate whines and and attempts of forcing him away because "it's too much," what nonsense — he thinks, jouno knows your limits, he knows you can take it. now be a good girl for him and let him enjoy his meal.

100% a pussy slapper — he likes hearing you squeal his name, while your neighbors definitely hate you both for that. he's so mean about it too, spreading your pussy lips apart to land a harsh but swift smack on your clit — it has you tearing up and crying out his name so cutely, he can't help but do it again, again and again.

jouno knows exactly which spots make you writhe in pleasure, and he takes advantage of that — relentlessly pounding his fingers into your g-spot while suckling on your clit, it has you seeing stars in mere moments.

did i mention he can make you squirt? he's incredible with his hands and mouth — combine that with the fact that he knows all of your weak spots, it's a killer combination. even if you're not a squirter, he still gives you the best orgasms you've had in your life.

8/10, he knows your limits and knows when to stop — but sometimes he can be a little too… sadistic.

𝓡𝓪𝓷𝓹𝓸

another munch right here — he'll eat you out anytime he wants, and when you want him to, of course !

ranpo gets super whiney while going down on you, his face would be flushed down to his neck — muffled moans of your name escaping his glossy lips, it's an adorable sight.

his glasses would be all fogged up, please take them off for him so they don't get dirty (he'll be whiney after if you don't)

ranpo has 0 experience, might need you to teach him some of the basics at first but he's a quick learner, quickly figures out and memorises which spots make you moan louder and your cunt wetter.

he doesn't care that much about technique, relies on feeling instead.

he doesn't like using his fingers, would rather pleasure you simply with his tongue — but he might cave in if you whined for long enough.

LOVES having you sit on his face — he needs to be drowned in your essence, and what better way to do that than have you ride his face? use him to get off, he might whine and kick his feet at first but he'll give in eventually !

sucks on your clit like it's his favorite candy — at least that's what he tells you. could spend hours and hours between your legs if you'd let him, sucking at licking at your clit before dipping his tongue in your hole, he might like it even better than candy, actually.

7/10, inexperienced but his enthusiasm makes up for it — really messy too.

note — if you don't agree with the ratings then that's fine, they can eat you out however you want them to lol.

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[koolades-world]

Hi, I love your blog! If you want, could you do the seven demon brothers (+Solomon if you feel like) with a super kind, too sweet for their own good MC? Like, if someone came up to them and asked for the clothes off their back, MC would give them away in a heartbeat and the brothers routinely find themselves summoned to help MC solve problems for lower demons and the like? Ever since MC's attendance, the bullying problem in RAD became nonexistent because the last time someone got shoved into a locker, MC summoned Lucifer to help the poor demon out and nobody's since forgotten what the offender's entrails look like (after MC was sent away, of course.)

Sorry if I wrote a bit too much, I'm just excited with the idea lol!

hello! no worries!! of course i can :)

enjoy <3

Very sweet Mc

Lucifer

he's always there to make sure nobody is taking advantage of your kindness

but that doesn't mean he doesn't help you out of course

he's quite happy to be the reason you smile

honestly though, he wouldn't have things any other way

Mammon

at first, he thinks your kindness is some kind of front

after all, why would you just give away all of your time and resources for people you barely knew

but once he got to know you, he just realized you were just really sweet

because it's you, he helps out every time since he, even though he would never admit it, has a heart of gold

Levi

he shocked every time you summon him to help out

because why would you choose him over all of his other brothers?

what use could he be that they couldn't?

but, he grows to really enjoy it after a while and sees why you do what you do

Satan

he's got lots of connections, so he can get help to solve problems he can't personally solve

normally, he wouldn't be as helpful as he is, but he always makes exceptions for you

it's made him much more approachable to the public, especially when you're by his side

you've only been a blessing for him and he couldn't be more grateful

Asmo

of course, anything for you!

as long as he can look cute while doing it, which he always is

he loves your kindness and how you love to help out where ever you can

afterwards, he always makes a post on his devilgram, and he makes sure you're always in it haha

Beel

he's equally as kind hearted as you

so, when you summon him to help solve a problem for the betterment of others, he's on board

afterwards, the two of you always celebrate with a meal out

sometimes, it's just the two of you, but sometimes you have others with you, but either way you're both happy

Belphie

he rolls his eyes and drags his feet every time you call for him

but, he always does exactly what you ask of him and seeks you out afterwards for some praise haha

he might complain, but he's always there within a heart beat

it's funny how that works, isn't it?

Solomon

he's gladly do anything for you

and he's not afraid to let the brothers know that he's always there and ready to take their place haha

but he does genuinely enjoy helping and spending time with you

he never thought he'd get to form such a close bond with another human again, so he's going to treasure it

[hrdenha]

— prize possession | p. js

in which, your boyfriend, Park Jongseong comes home not knowing he has a prize to collect. A prize you willingly give for him to possess

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️ consented somno, mentions of alcohol, use of undergarments as a signal, penetration, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP!), oral (f receiving), curses, cockwarming, JAY (yeah, bc he's dangerously HOT), not yet edited - sorry~

NOTES — ! this one's short but I hope y'all will enjoy

It was late, he was late. A deal that made jay busy for the whole week finally ends with them successfully getting it. He wanted to run home and celebrate with you the moment the deal was sealed but, the fate has its own idea on the situation. He called you this evening, telling you the result of their work and his plans to go home right then. But, you enthusiastically told him to celebrate first with his workers, saying they deserved it after a week long sleepless nights. Thus, it's only now that he made home. 1 am in the morning, and he was exhausted through the bones.

As he expected the house was silent when he came inside, the only thing that lights the path for him is the moon. He then finally came through your shared room. You were there laying on your side, back facing him as you sleep soundedly. Jay smiled, taking off his coat, his shoes and belt next in line before diving down the bed letting himself touch and be close with you. Of course, knowing jay he wouldn't let himself sleep without cleaning himself first. One of those things you love about him.

As promised, when he felt recharged by your presence, he finally stood up and took a hot shower for himself, leaving you in the bed still sleeping. The shower definitely refreshed both his body and mind from the hectic schedule that just occurred, even washing away the remnant of alcohol in his system in the process. He's not drunk, but of course, he did take a few shots offered to him by his workers. It's only polite to accept.

Once his hair was dry enough, he again joined you on the bed. Caressing your body in his hands, as he listens to your soft breaths. Planting soft kisses on top of your shoulders, getting drunk on your presence instead of the alcohol. He's wrong though, the hot shower he just took washed away everything aside from the hot blood he's feeling down there. Most especially now that you're responding to his touch by practically moaning his name in your sleep. Not a shocking one, but he was damn turned on about it. He was still in dazed when you started moving quietly on your sleep, snuggling the long pillow close to your body and raising your right leg on it causing your sleepwear to ride up on your hips.

Jay eyes followed it, his breath cut off when he realized. You were wearing THE lingerie. The one jay absolutely loves and adores that grants him a certain privileged. It's not just a piece of seductive clothing but rather a go signal for him.

You wanted him to take you as you sleep and... "Damn, baby." He planted open mouth kisses on your shoulders again, down to your neck and then your cheeks. Pulling your body closer to him with conviction but at the same time care not to hurt or wake you up. And, while his right hand massaged your breast, "You never ceased to amaze me" His other hand started to travel southward, massaging your hips before sliding a finger on your clothed line. Your position just made it all easier, jay can even feel the hot blush on his skin as you started responding to his advances.

"You're wet, baby... even in your sleep you're still a slut waiting for a cock, my cock." He slides the strap to the side revealing your pussy with slick. Jay didn't even wait, he immediately plunged his tongue taking advantage of how wet you are. You started raising your hips in contact, moaning in your dreams as the pleasure started to spread widely.

Jay started maneuvering your body, now as you lay flat on your back taking your panty completely before he gladly played on your pleasure. Drowning on your wetness and scent, he continued working his way. His eyes occasionally opening and glancing upwards whenever he hears a sharp whimper. He can feel the tightness on his hips, how his loose sweatpants became tight at the growing bulge he had. It's twitching, so thirsty to feel your tightness but jay had other plans.

He's still downing your juices, as if making a statement that other than alcohol, he too can get drunk on your essence. "J-a...y" You whimpered his name more clearly than the last time but still incoherent. And, he took it as a signal. It's the best time to fucked you lazy when you're still in the middle of consciousness and sleep.

His clothes swiftly took their landing on the floor leaving their owner naked, he's painfully hard and erect. And, the only cure effective for this is you. Jay took the place beside as he positioned you in a spoon, your back on his chest as he possessively hug you from behind. He then started dragging his head on your slit coating it with your mixed fluids. He groaned at his antics, and more than ever when he finally pushed his tip inside.

"Hm... baby" He whispered on your ears, the hand that encircled your waist raised your right leg causing him to push his cock again. It was deep but jay wasn't in fully, he knows it can be deeper than that and even if he wanted to just push it, he wouldn't. He wanted your brain to realized on its own that someone's using your body amidst its rest. What's more exciting than your reaction realizing his assault?

Jay started thrusting, it was painfully slow and tender, he might as well teasing himself. His right hand playing on your breast as he did. "Wake up..." Thrust. "It's time to wake up, baby" His pace started picking up, and so are your whimpers. From the way your body jolts up in every thrust is an equivalent of glass shattering from your sleep. You were floating, in the middle of a medium where no one can disturb your peace. Then, a pair of gentle hands appear out of nowhere, stroking... kneading your body. You start chasing those hands, desperately searching for more. The strokes only get hungrier, yet patient and collected. One that takes its time while you, on the other hand, are getting impatient. Thus, you revel in the pleasure you're given while the touch becomes more demanding.

With one particularly hitting your spot, you started stirring up from your sleep. Half-consiously basking on the bliss that are given much to jay's anticipation. He pushed himself more fully enjoying your pussy in its glory earning a sharp breath from you as the numbing feeling of pleasure started spreading out your system. "Jay...?" You shift having a sharp inhale when he hit the spot again. "Fuck, jay... baby. yeah th— that feels..." Jay's thrust never falter even when he started his kissing escapades with you anchoring your neck at best just to taste his lips as he continues rutting from behind. It even helped Jay in advantage when he started grabbing you by the neck causing his dick to push deeper than ever. You moaned in response, leg rising on its own to feel more while your hand — on a desperate attempt to find support, found its way on jay's nape.

"...always wanted to wake up with your cock inside me, jay"

"Ah! Shit..." You hissed. Jay chuckled, darkly. "You like that baby? I bet you do. Pussy so tight when I hit this spot even when you're asleep."

"Jay... Jay!"

"But, I might say... f-uck! You're tighter when you're awake." That made everything intensify, even you, felt how your pussy tightened around him at that. Jay groaned, immediately laying you on your back rutting his cock again. The room is filled with moans and wet skin slapping. You started seeing stars in your eyes, can't do anything but to curl your toes and repeatedly call jay's name.

"Ugh! Baby, baby! I-I think I'm gonna... I think I'm gonna" like a broken record, holding him close as if it will help not to lose your sanity. "Fuck, y/n! Fuck!" His hips rock harder and firmer, adding pressure to the prominent feel of sex. And, with lines of curses coming from both of you, he thrust deeper past your rear as you finally feel a warm feeling flooding inside you while your soul starts to fly apart from the rippling waves of your high. Jay whimpers at ecstasy, his muscles relaxing from his own release before facing you. He silently took your cavern, sharing a passionate kiss as if it was his way to show appreciation and how thankful he was. After that he goes limp, holding you while still on top. At the same time, you felt his cock going soft within you but jay didn't mind, and that goes both ways. He didn't pull out, he even pushed it further as if trapping your mess and for some reason, that made your heart full. You let him use you in any way he sees fit. Jay deserves a price, after all.

hrdenha, 2024

likes, reblogs, and comments are deeply appreciated 💖

[lancermylove]

Body Swap (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: DB x fem!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can you do a body swap headcanon with demon brothers? So basically female MC swap body with one of the brothers

A/N: Hope you like it! Anon, who requests the N.SFW version of this. I don't write for gender bender, especially with 18+ HCs. This one is an exception because it's more emotional and comedic, so sorry!

———————————————

Lucifer

Lucifer is the most mature in handling the body swap incident. He doesn't make a big deal about having to deal with being in a woman's body, even though he secretly feels uncomfortable.

If you set any rules for him, he will gladly follow them as it is your body, and Lucifer does not intend to take advantage of it.

He asks Solomon and Barbatos to help resolve this situation as soon as possible. But for some reason, he can be himself without feeling pressured to uphold his title.

On the other hand, you don't like openly showing your emotions, even more than usual. You also feel the pressure of being prideful. It almost feels like things are out of your hands. You don't want to be prideful, but the universe forces you to behave that way. Is this how Lucifer always feels as the Avatar of Pride? Your ego also gets wounded more than usual.

But you can finally take off your...Lucifer's shirt...and get to see the scars of his wings firsthand.

Most of all, you enjoy ordering others around. Even though the brothers know that you are not Lucifer, they still get intimated since you are using the first brother's body.

You would have taken full advantage of this by transforming into Lucifer's demon form, but he already warned you not to do that by threatening you with a tough punishment once you two switch back.

Mammon

He is embarrassed! Why did he switch bodies with you? How is he supposed to sleep and go to the bathroom and stuff? Just the thought of undressing makes his mind explode.

When you suggest using a blindfold or closing his eyes, Mammon tries his best to do things without peeking at your body, even though a part of him is tempted. But no! Respect is more important.

Meanwhile, you have the sudden urge to hoard valuable things and 'borrow' things from others, and the most prominent thing in your mind is money. Money, money, and MONEY!

You feel your greed levels rising and have a hard time to control. Sometimes, you have to talk to Mammon to figure out the best way to control your destructive urges.

"Now, y'know how I feel..."

Those words hit you hard, and you forgive him for everything he has ever done.

While you were protective of the younger brothers before, you have a devastating urge to sacrifice yourself for them, even though your...Mammon's body trembles at the thought of what punishment Lucifer will give him.

You make a mental note to help Mammon get out of punishments in the future when you switch back.

Levi

Absolutely refuses to do anything and sits in his room in a fetal position. He can't even bring himself to go to the bathroom or take a bath. Even if you tell him to clean your body, he will refuse.

Though, Levi feels lighter because he can think more clearly being away from his demonic body. It's almost like he can think more clearly.

For some reason, you start to feel jealous of everything...every little thing to the point where it makes you feel down and suffocated. When you start crying from the feeling, Levi panics and tries to calm you down. After calming down, you realize that he always feels this way - no wonder Levi is always down. You give him (your body) a tight hug, making him blush profusely.

Unfortunately for the brothers, when you become aggravated due to an argument between them, your emotions accidentally summon Lotan. However, the brothers don't blame you for it, and Levi finally realizes how scary it is for the others when he calls Lotan out of nowhere.

You spend the most time in Levi's room and get into a habit of changing into his demon form and wrapping his tail around him (your body) just to get a reaction out of him.

This experience brings you two much closer than before, and Levi trusts you far more than before.

Satan

Oh my Devildom, he doesn't feel angry, even when triggered. This feeling is very difficult for him to get used to, but it's a refreshing change. However, he constantly reminds himself that this is only temporary and that he should not get used to it.

He is also mature about the body swap and does his best to respect your body as best as possible. Even though Satan won't admit it, he finds the experience fascinating and finally understands how a woman's body works. Although, he will never get used to random body aches, especially random lower back pain.

You, on the other hand, are not so fortunate. You feel like you are a ticking time bomb of anger. One little mishap, and you feel like destroying everything around you. Satan tries his best to pacify you, but it doesn't work all the time. At times, Beel and Lucifer have to restrain you after you have a rage episode. Then, you profusely apologize and nearly break into tears. It's a vicious cycle.

This makes you realize just how hard Satan has to work to keep his anger in check, and Satan realizes how difficult it is for his brothers to control him when he gets angry.

Once you switch back, you are tempted to tell Satan to meditate, but the thought of a demon meditating is hilarious yet odd.

Asmo

Asmo is the only one who is excited about the body switch. He doesn't feel uncomfortable in any way and actually enjoys being in your body. He has always wanted to see what it feels like to be a woman.

Even though Asmo is in your body, he has the urge to fix every skin problem you have. If you don't have any, he will continue to take care of your skin for you. He may even go as far as to develop a skincare routine tailored to you. If the two of you stay switched for a long time, he will whip your skin into perfect shape.

Meanwhile, even though you feel beautiful in Asmo's body, there is always a voice in the back of your head that whispers 'what-if' scenarios. What if you stop being beautiful? What if you get breakouts? What if no one loves you? What if others think you are unattractive? The pressure to be beautiful is suffocating. A part of you feels very bad for Asmo and can finally understand why he has to be beautiful at all times.

One thing makes you very uncomfortable, and that is Asmo's urge for desire. His avatar needs physical affection all the time. The thought of getting close to someone in Asmo's body is very disturbing, so he helps you out by cuddling with you whenever you need to get close to someone. At least you are hugging your own body...which is still odd to think about but better than the alternate option.

Beel

He doesn't like the feeling of being shorter and less muscular, but that doesn't stop him from working out. However, you will have to remind him not to start with heavy exercises if you don't work as much as him.

Most of all, he feels odd not having to think about eating 24/7. He can actually focus on other things, and it's a nice change. But he does miss eating endlessly solely for the taste of good food.

Meanwhile, you feel like devouring the entire world's food supply. Nothing you eat, no matter how much and how heavy, satisfies you.

You cannot focus on anything except food. The worst part is that Beel forces you to exercise, following his normal routine. He doesn't want his body to be out of shape.

On the plus side, you can see over most people's heads. You will never lose anyone in a crowd. Also, you have a great deal of strength to the point where you can lift an entire house if you want.

For the time you are in Beel's body, you act like a superhero, saving everyone from the bullies and villains. All you need to do is grab them by their shirt and lift them off the ground with one hand. That is enough to make them petrified.

You also get the pleasure of flexing in front of the mirror and admiring Beel's rock-hard muscles to your heart's content.

Belphie

He finds the situation hilarious and doesn't seem to care. Belphie almost has a 'it is what it is' reaction. Initially, he thinks his sloth-like nature will pass to your body but soon realizes that he has a lot more energy to do anything and everything he wants.

Belphie decides to use this chance to fulfill this bucket list before he returns to his sleepy body. Of course, he drags you with him everything, much to your dismay.

You feel sleepy, lazy, and lethargic. No matter how much you sleep, it's never enough. Your brain always feels hazy to the point where you can't even think straight. How does Belphie constantly put up with this? No wonder he sleeps most of the day.

You secretly try to consume caffeine products, but nothing works to keep you awake. Sometimes, Beel has to carry you around because you get into a habit of falling asleep anywhere at any time.

Though you don't tell Belphie, you are secretly happy to return to your body. A part of you doesn't feel like sleeping for days as you got all the sleep you needed in the few days you were in Belphie's body.

----

Epilogue:

After you switch back, you finally understand why the brothers behave the way they do. While you don't say it aloud, you believe the avatars are more curses than anything else. However, you learn to sympathize with them more. How do they deal with the curse every day? They are strong.

So, the next time Lucifer gets prideful, Mammon gets greedy, Levi gets jealous, Satan gets angry, Asmo goes on about beauty, Beel eats endlessly, and Belphie dozes off, you don't get mad at them. All you do is hug them and tell them, "It's okay."

———————————————

➣  Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

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[snowsinterlude]

teacher's pet.

(teacher!coriolanus x student reader)

summary: desperate to pass chemistry, you decided to take matters into your own hands as you stayed until late at school.

based on this ask.

c.w: teacher x student, reader is 19 due to repeating a year, oral (m. recieving), cum swallowing, boob pinching/biting, p in v, mildly public sex, spitting, explicit content, explicit description of sex.

being the worst student at the academy and having repeated a year, you took matters into your own hands and decided to do your best this year, not wanting to be left behind again.

however, chemistry was the worst class you could have had, it didn't seem to make sense in your pretty little head, you would always pout with the pencil against your lips and would be crying without any tears running down, it felt humiliating. you could aways feel the teacher staring at you across the class and laughing at the faces you made to his class.

he was one of the few teachers that were actually descent looking, always had his hair perfectly combed and god, how can one look hot with glasses like his?

you questioned yourself everyday about how you were supposed to pass his class, the only answer you could find wasn't something that he would be willing to do, i mean- he didn’t seem like someone who would let his student suck his dick in order to get good grades.

but you were desperate. desperate times calls for desperate answers.

so now, for your own surprise, you were on your knees now, who would know that he would actually accept it?

"c'mon, professor snow. i'm sure you have a lot of tensional pent up, i can make it go away." you said, your fingers brushing up against his as you quietly smiled at him.

"and why would you do it?" he asked, not even looking away from the tests he was correcting as he pulled his hand away from yours.

"this way everybody wins, don't you think? you get relief from your stress and i get my grades to, you know, graduate."

"and why do you think i would do it?"

"i see how you look at me, professor." you smiled.

and for your upmost surprise, he angrily looked at you, pinning you to the table. "if you want to suck my dick so much you don't have to made up lies to get on your knees." he said, and you gulped down hard, heat going all the way up your cheeks. you almost said sorry for the disrespect but you were immediatly shut down by his lips slamming on yours.

you hummed something, but it only served to let his tongue into your mouth as he made you sit on his desk, your legs getting spread up to let him closer to you.

you passed your arms through his neck, letting him deepen the kiss more than you thought that was capable. by the end of it, there was a small, almost invisible string of saliva connecting you both. you looked into his eyes with your own confused ones, even though you were the one who proposed that.

in less than a few minutes, you were on your knees, seeing him drop his pants to his knees, his hand grabbing his dick and slapping your face with it as you gladly suck on the tip of his dick, earning a groan out of his mouth.

"are you really that desperate?" he asked, his answer being the bobbing of your head on his cock as your hand found the base of his dick that didn't fit into your mouth to masturbate it. "fuck, seems like we have a answer."

his hands found your head quickly, it isn't even necessary to say that he was pounding his dick into your mouth, every groan he made was kept into your brain as you licked him, from the veins to the tip.

insatiable, you drooled all over him, getting him as wet as you were right now. he pulled you away from his dick by pulling your hair back, taking advantage of your agape mouth to spit on it.

he pulled you to stand up, bending you over the desk as he ripped your panties out of your body, shoving it into your mouth as he finally caught a sight of your bare wetness.

"ohh," he chuckled, grabbing your ass with gluttony. he kissed your shoulder, ripping the buttons of your blouse and freeing your boobs from the fabric. "it seems like you were dirtier than i expected you to be," he murmured, dick pressing against your core. "how naughty."

he pinched your nipples, twirling them and making you moan once you were finally penetrated by his dick. he grunted at how tight you were squeezing his dick.

it didn't happen as quick as you thought it would. even after you already came on his cock, your moans echoing through the classroom as he kept on hitting you from behind.

milking him with your walls, you were a drooling crying mess, the panties shoved in your mouth didn't allow you to voice your pleas, and that was the only way he had to keep you quiet, you didn't knew why nor how but he seemed to be aware that you were a loud fucker.

with that being said, you gifted him with the view of you fucking him back, bouncing on his cock as you closed your eyes shut, it didn't matter if they were open or not, your sight was blurry enough for you to notice him.

turning you to look at him, he put you to sit on the table before entering you again, kissing your temple and your tears as he fucked you raw- after all, why would a teacher bring condoms to a school? pushing those thoughts away, he fucked you dumb, he took the panties out of your mouth only to pull you in a nasty kiss, his saliva mixing with yours as he sucked on your neck, kissing the hickey he just gave you.

"you're almost cumming aren't you?" he asked, and you nodded frantically "i can feel it. your pussy is clenching on my cock like you're in heat." he said, chuckling.

for your relief, he thrusted inside you once again, his cock kissing your uterus just right to make you cry as you came on his cock.

he pulled out of you, cumming on your stomach and chest instead, he wouldn’t be making you pregnant- not today.

drooling and breathing heavily, you gulped down, tasting the dryness of your throat.

"g-grades... how are m...my grades?" you asked, and he chuckled as he pulled his pants up.

"i just fucked you raw and you're talking about grades? how cruel." he joked, and you didn't even answered rightfully, trying to breath.

"you passed, dear. you had passed already even before doing all that." he said, kissing your temple and walking away.

your eye twitched, did you really just fucked a teacher for a grade you already had?

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, so I am a lover of angst, hurt/comfort is my favorite. Anyways if it is okay may I please request an injured gn s/o (maybe s/o took a hit meant for them) either Sunday, Dan Heng, Argenti, basically as many or as few of the hsr men as you want. But if you don’t want to do this that’s okay, you are the author after all so yeah. Anyways love ya and have fun darling /lh

Sunday: he doesn’t take news of your injury lightly. At all.

You getting hurt was unacceptable and Sunday will let that be known as he demands a search party to look for the person(s) responsible for your injury.

He becomes incredibly suffocating during your recovery period. He will want to do everything for you so that you’d never have to raise a hand yourself.

He’s waiting on your hand and foot as he slowly grows more and more infuriated with the lack of progress made with the hunt search for your attacker.

He’s been told not to focus on such trivial matters and pat more attention to matters regarding The Family, but in his heart of hearts Sunday knew he couldn’t fulfil his duties as head, not when you were bed bound by your injuries and rendered helpless.

It’s not the first time he’s been reprimanded for such behaviour and actions before, but at some point Sunday just didn’t care enough to head those warnings as he spent most of his time feeding you, bathing you, clothing you and overall monitoring your health as he didn’t trust anyone outside to do so without the usage of foul play.

He’d might even use this as an opportunity to show you that you were never going to be safe if you stray from his side, for he couldn’t protect you if you were to wander far from his sight.

He wants you by him 24/7 and if you were to go anywhere, it was to be with his approval and administration.

Was this controlling? Yes but he was doing this for you, don’t you see? Nowhere is safe because everyone knows your relationship to him and they’ll use that to their advantage. He can’t keep you safe if he doesn’t know where you are all the time and if he had it his way, you’d never leave the house at all.

Sunday knows best, so you’d be wise to listen to him from here on out.

Argenti: utterly heartbroken and enraged that someone would dare hurt his beautiful flower.

He doesn’t take your safely lightly.

It was his solemn duty to protect and preserve all things beautiful and you were high up on his list of priorities.

He honestly wouldn’t know what he’d do without you, his rose, his most beloved and the most beautiful soul he’s ever gazed his eyes upon.

He makes up for the fact that you were injured by staying by your side, offering reassuring words throughout your healing journey, and always being there to catch you when you fall.

He’d even go as far as forgoing taking care of himself in exchange for making sure that you were bathed, clothed, fed and so on. He looks perpetually tired but yet so beautiful with that soft smile gracing his lips as he gazed at you with all the affection he could muster.

You naturally had to force him to take a break from caring for you and have a power nap with you instead as you couldn’t stand another moment more of Argenti ignoring his own needs for your own.

‘I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you my flower. I’m meant to be your knight, but you became mine instead when I got distracted in battle.’ He says.

‘I’d gladly be your knight all the time in gratitude for everything you’ve ever done for me Argenti.’ You replied softly, holding his hands and watching him melt into your touch, revealing in your warmth. ‘So please don’t take my injury to heart, even though I know you’ve already have. I just don’t want you blaming yourself for something that happened out of our control.’ You finished as you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

‘I can’t promise anything dearest, seeing you hurt wounds me deeply as though I’ve been the one injured instead, but I’m willing to try. For you my heart.’ Argenti said and he truly meant it, but during the heat of battle that’s when he took his position as a knight seriously, as he would guard you with everything he had whsilt also staying true to his chivalrous nature.

Dan Heng: the moment he saw you get hurt, he’s mentally zoned out as his body takes over as he finds himself hovering over your body protectively, weapon in hand.

He refuses anyone to get near you as he’d lash out on instinct to protect you, his beloved.

He hates, no, despises the fact that he couldn’t protect you and will blame himself for it, until Welt has to step in and tell him that this mindset isn’t the mindset he should be having right now, not when you needed him as your pillar during your recovery.

That snaps Dan Heng out of it really quickly as he focuses on helping you recover and he takes that responsibility seriously. Though that never stops the guilt that he felt whenever looking at your healed scar, it served as a reminder of his greatest failure in protecting someone he loved.

It sickened him that after all this time he could still be proven to be weak in moments where he needed to be strong. He feels as though he’s failed you as a partner, but you never hold it again him as you reassure him while softly kissing his face.

‘It’s not your fault Dan Heng.’ You’d tell him frequently.

‘Then why does it feel like it is?’ He asks as his eye linger on your scar with melancholy.

He was so close to loosing you that day that whenever you were to fight, Dan Heng would be close by watching your back and covering your weak spots like he was made to know your fighting style as intimately as he did.

Nowadays he’s over protective and hovering over you 24/7 from the shadows, fae enough to give you space but close enough to protect you should the need arise.

He’s still trying to make up for the fact that he failed but to himself rather then anybody else, for no one held him more accountable for your injury then himself.

[plumipal]

Meet Eden (TWST OC)

Yall were so supportive on my silly oc ill actually do a showcase on them. Hope yall like him!

Meet Eden, the second (third if you count grim) member of the ramshackle dorm! Another anomaly in space and time cased him to end up in the sorting sermony just like the prefect, unlike the prefect though he actually has his own sort of magic. The school does not count his magic as actual magic with how differently it works from theirs, rendering his magic useless during lessons (this does not mean he is weak, he can pack quite the punch with his magic).

He finds comfort in you (the prefect), as you both are from different worlds. He refuses to tell tou about his universe, bur he will gladly litsen to you talk about yours. With his unique appearance, he is hard to miss, making lots of people question what he truly is (he, of course, refuses to tell them). The piercing eyes he has are quite terrifying, making most people keep their distance from him.

They take advantage of being so close to you (by being in the same dorm), making the other students jealous. He also uses the "we are both people from different universes" to his advantage on the students too 🤭

He actually has a lot of tattoos, some looking quite creepy with how many eyes there are on him. With the lack of breathing and heart you are quite sure he is not human, but what is he...?

Also have the glorious masquerade outfit I made for him

... GUYS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ASK FOR OR ABOUT HIM THEY ARE SUCH A SILLY LITTLE THING I PROMISE PLEASE- HE HAS THE BIGGEST CRUSH ON THE PREFECT ALRIGHT ANOTHER YAN TO THE TWST CHAOTIC STUDENT HAREM

[outsideratheart]

Birthdays in Bed (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Happy Birthday to the queen herself! To the anon that requested this, I hope you like it.

The sun peaking through the blinds was the reason why Alexia woke up. Although, if you were to ask her she would say the lack of your presence was the real culprit. 

She buried her head into your pillow. The scent of your wild berries shampoo flooded her senses but the coldness she felt on your side of the bed caused her in groan in disappointment. 

Where were you? That was her first question. Alexia soon got her answer when she looks over to the baby monitor. Your son’s crib was empty. 

She pushed herself up the bed and reached down to the floor to get her t-shirt you had gladly stripped her of the night before. Her left foot was out the cover but just as she was about to get up she heard tiny footsteps outside the door. What followed made her heart melt. 

“Shhh mama, Mami’s sleeping. Need to surprise her” your son’s accent was a mixture of Spanish and English but the latter was that little bit stronger when he spoke in your language. 

“I know bubs. That why I told you to stay with me whilst I got everything ready” your voice was one that Alexia could pick out from a mile away. 

Jordi, your two year old, tried to shush you again but ended up giggling at the way his mouth vibrated.  

It was a sound that Alexia loved and if asked she would say it was her favourite, tied with yours of course. 

The door slowly opened. It revealed your son in a tiny birthday hat and you carrying a tray with a selection of food on it. 

“Mami, you’re awake” Jordi playfully smacked his head. The dramatics he had picked up from his mami. 

“We wanted to surprise you” you told your wife who laid in bed content with the scene in front of her. 

“Don’t say it. I say it” the little boy stumbles over to his parents bed. 

You wanted to help him get up onto yours and Alexia’s bed as it was rather high for someone his size but you knew he’d stop you. The determination on his face and the way his tongue sticks out the side of his mouth was very familiar. 

“Surprise mami” Jordi launched himself at Alexia and peppered many sloppy kisses all across her face. 

“Feliz cu-“ you are cut off by your son. 

“No mama. I say it” once again Jordi stops you from uttering the words. He wanted to be the first one to wish his mami a happy birthday. 

“Feliz Cumpleaños” your son tries his hardest to perfect the pronunciation and the effort alone causes both you and Alexia to smile proudly. 

“Gràcies mi pequeño tesoro”  

You place the tray down and joined your little family in bed. Jordi was snuggled into Alexia’s side with his head buried in the crook of her neck. You took advantage of the boy’s lack of vision and kissed your wife. 

“Happy birthday my love” 

Alexia pulled you back in for a couple small kisses. 

Jordi eyes you both before pointing to the food. The boy had an appetite bigger than both yours and Alexia’s combined. 

“Well, what is this?” Alexia asks him. 

“We made breakfast. Look!” He carefully grabs a plate and gives it to Alexia. 

She inspects the fruit salad and although she is very grateful for the gesture, she did expect something a little more sugar based. 

“There is fruit” Jordi point the colourful bowl “and pan con tomate” his Spanish accent was adorable “juice and water” 

“Is there anything else?” Alexia asks him. 

“Nope. Mama says no sweets for breakfast” Jordi replies. 

It was true. You wanted your son to eat healthily with a few sweet treats. Breakfast however was a time to get the nutrients your bodies needed before the day started. 

Your son didn’t seem to care though because he takes a bite of the toast with no further questions. 

“It’s my birthday” Alexia pouts at you. 

“There’s Panellets in the kitchen” you grab a piece of strawberry out the bowl. 

“Mi amor, it’s my birthday” Alexia repeats herself. It was the one day of the year where she secretly loved how much you loved to celebrate her. Every year since you started dating you would bake her a cake. This year she hoped the tradition would continue. 

“The cake comes later. We have a game to play” 

“Ok. Cake later and some other desserts I think” your wife raised her eyes playfully as she kissed the side of your neck. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not putting a bell on my cat?

Cw for discussion of animal death and injury in vague terms.

So I live in a neighborhood with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. In fact, it's sorta that way all over the city. A few weeks ago as of writing this, I picked up a stray because I saw that it had an open wound on its neck; since it was amicable to being handled I decided to take it to the vet to be treated (and neutered, since I'd already gotten hold of it and obviously we don't need more strays.)

Recently, my cat of 15 years (we had him for 15 years, he was about 17-18 though) passed of old age, so I wasn't expecting my family to be willing to take a new cat in so soon. We even still have most of his stuff, so I figured it would be a matter of keeping the stray indoors until it was healed, then letting him go about his business. We all ended up getting attached over his two weeks of recovery though (if anyone is curious, it was a burst absess. While he was there we got him vaccinated and checked for other problems. Aside from ear mites, he was fine) so we got him a microchip, named him, and that was that.

My previous cat was also a rescue, though we picked him up from a shelter. At the time we also had a dog and a dog door, so keeping him inside would have been a logistical struggle we just... didn't care to bother with. By the time the dog passed, he'd had access to the outside for years and we saw no reason to suddenly cut him off from that. We obviously had to keep this new cat completely inside while his staples were in, but the plan was always to open up the dog door once he was healed and let him decide where he wanted to be. I don't like taking care of a litter box, my dad doesn't like the smell of cat, 3/4ths of the house is allergic (though that didn't stop us before), and this cat is much younger than our previous was, and has much more energy (vet estimated him at 6mo-1yr). At the beginning of last week (again, as of writing this) I got the go-ahead from the vet to let him outside and gladly did so. He hasn't gotten the hang of the dog door yet (our previous had the advantage of watching the dog go through to learn how to do it) but will go through open doors/windows and will return to the door or enter through the window if it's still open.

With context out of the way here comes the trouble: our neighbors. Our house is on the corner of the block and to our left is a house that takes tenants every so often. They've been here for as long as I (22m) have been alive and have been a nucance for probably longer than that. Their yard is atrocious, they planted bamboo that grew under the fence and into our property, and the woman who owns the house (presumably. Her husband might but I've never spoken to him) apparently has some moral issue with outdoor cats.

Sometime into owning our previous cat, she suddenly became very concerned with the bird population and insisted that we collar our cat and get him a bell so that he wouldn't catch birds. I'd like to point three things out: 1) our previous cat only had one eye, 2) we had tried to collar him before and he lost every single one so we gave up (breakaway collars so he didn't choke, 3) he caught birds despite both of these facts. Needless to say, I was not fucking thrilled about unsolicited advice from a woman I'd never spoken to, who let her unmitigated mess of invasive plants invade my garden, but whatever. She spoke to my little (10yro) sister about it at the time, only once, and never to me, so it wasn't an issue.

So I let this new cat out, right? I opened the dog door for him and he waltzed right on out, but I wasn't convinced he really knew how to operate it. About an hour or so without hearing him come in, I head through the back door to look for him. I got him from a different neighborhood, across town, while visiting a friend, so I figured I was allowed to be a little worried about him getting lost or overwhelmed. As soon as I step out onto the porch, the neighbor-lady calls over and asks me if my cat got out or I let it out.

I tell her I let him out. She asks me to put a bell on him. In an attempt to remain civil I ask her why. She says something about it being stupid, I ask her why it's stupid, she says cats eat birds and the bird populations are declining. I instantly want to call bull on cats being a leading reason of bird population decline, but I just tell her that I'll have to look that up, and ask her if she saw which way he went. (I'd like my restraint during this interaction noted, thanks.)

Anyway I don't find the cat but I get a good few patrols around the block, and eventually he comes back to the house sometime in the late-night early-morning. He does not use the dog door and waits for me to open the door instead (back door is on the way to the bathroom, I saw his stupid little face pressed against the glass when i went to piss).

I look up bird population decline articles. Most of them mention cats as a factor, along with clear windows. Primary factors are listed as deforestation and invasive species, pesticides, etc. I don't consider getting my cat a collar because I don't appreciate my neighbors input, especially when she's going to be hypocritical and ignore that planting native species may help bird population more than putting out fifty fucking feeders and complaining that the stray cats see her yard as a buffet. Anyway.

I let him out again yesterday, this time through the window in my room, which leads to the back porch. I felt comfortable leaving it open since I work at my desk and would hear if anything not-cat came inside. (Allergies were a problem, but I'd really rather he have a way to get inside if he wanted/needed, and he STILL will not open the dog door on his own. Obviously I'm not helping by continuing to give him alternatives but I am soft-hearted.) Sometime in the evening my dad comes in and tells me that when the cat next comes back, I should keep him inside because "The neighbor lady is being a bitch and I don't want to deal with it." I assume she said something to him, so I agree and when the cat comes in for the night I close the window.

This morning I saw what had ACTUALLY got him.in a twist, because not only did she say something but she printed out and taped a note to our door. Oh, how I would love to send a picture of it here, but I don't know how to embed photos in asks so you'll just have to deal with my transcription:

CAT FACTS

Cats kill birds. Cars kill cats.

Here's some links to look up.

[I won't type the links out. First one is an article titled "how long do outdoor cats live indoor vs outdoor cats" and the second is "faq cats and their effects on birds". I have not read either of these.]

Ask Kelly about Dixie. Ask Jean about Madeline - wait don't - she ran over her with her own car and broke her pelvis because the cat was older and couldn't hear well.

You have a very beautiful young cat. He deserves a safe loving home. Act like you care for your cat or give him to a home that will. I have four indoor cats - three are orange boys. I have a soft spot for orange boy cats. They are very happy as inside cats.

Be responsible.

[Handwritten at the bottom:]

Your cat is sleeping in my backyard. Why are you forcing him to be an outdoor cat!?

[End]

The amount of violent rage this fills me with is unreal. Kelly is our across-the-road neighbor, I assume Jean is another neighbor (I'm bad with names) and I CANNOT imagine that either of them appreciate being. Used like this. Also, I'm very glad her cats are happy indoors but this cat is not, he wants to go outside, he has been crowding the window all morning waiting for me to open it. (I respect me father so I won't, but I disrespect my neighbor so I really, REALLY fucking want to.)

So AITA for disregarding the safety/happiness of my cat and the decline of the bird population by not putting a collar on him and heartlessly forcing him outside? I'm no further inclined to force him indoors or get a collar, especially with her continued insistence, and in fact I'm so far making an active effort to restrain myself from going over and talking to her because I just want to turn it into an argument.

[randombush3]

dies irae

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three

words: 12425 (sorry not sorry)

summary: part four, the part that made me realise another part was necessary

warnings: drugs, alcohol, cheating, (a lot of???) vomiting, general angst tbh

notes: in all honesty, i started this with the intention of finishing the series, but it hit 12k and i thought maybe not x

weird little comment, but the last section was originally written in spanish (hear me out: i was on the plane and i didn’t want the people beside me to read it over my shoulder) and i’m still feeling a little iffy about my translation of my og version but oh well!

i hope you enjoy this and are content w waiting another five years for me to churn out the new FINAL part

The sand is warm beneath your feet, each grain rubbing against your bare soles as you sprint. The ground under such surfaces often hardens, proven by the sweat trickling past the thin string of fabric that holds your bikini together. If the beach were not so private, you would be worried about wandering camera lenses. 

However, there is no one else here but your favourite people. Well, maybe Nico has dropped to the bottom of the list now that your energy has been worn down while his does not seem to waver. 

“I give up,” you pant as he continues to tumble down the shoreline, changing his tactics and swerving into the water, comfortable in his sea. The same sea he looks at each morning from your bedroom window. The one he learnt to swim in. (That and a variety of hotel pools.) “You win, you win!” 

The small figure, around twenty metres away, comes to an abrupt halt, wobbling on little legs for a moment. Then he begins to run again, but this time towards the towels and constructed shade you had set up earlier. Unwillingly, you race him back to base camp. 

“He ganado,” he declares as he taps Alexia’s shining back as though she is the signpost signifying the finish line. Your hand caresses the divots of muscle soon after, brushing sand across smooth, tanned skin. Nico peers at you strangely, but understands, thanks to Tia Alba, that the beach outfits are special to his mothers. 

“Mi ganador,” comes a tired murmur of praise. 

“Did you see, Mami? I was so far ahead.” She nods, craning her neck upwards to talk to him. You gladly sprawl out on the vacant towel, passing on the baton to your wife, fortunate that Elena has been asleep in her buggy for the past twenty minutes. “Can I play with Lela now? Is nap time over?” 

“No, sweetheart, naptime has just begun.” He looks up at you with pleading, bored eyes. The one unfortunate consequence of going to a private beach is that, unless you bring along your babysitter, there is no one else for Nico to play with. Alexia and you are both exhausted, and today is supposed to be about relaxation. Three-year-olds don’t understand that concept. “If you don’t want to sleep, how about burying Mami?” 

“In the sand?” 

“Sí, in the sand.” 

He leans close to your ear. “Mami says I’m not allowed to do that,” he whispers, though he has not quite mastered the volume of such a tone yet. Alexia pretends not to be listening, but you can feel her foot prodding your shin in protest. 

“Rules are sometimes made to be broken,” you tell him. “And if you do bury her, the only way to make her happy again is to get ice-cream. Which means you can also get ice-cream.” 

“You are so annoying,” grumbles Alexia. 

“This morning, I believe the word you used was ‘sexy’,” you retort. With the Euros on the horizon, it seems that the two of you are using up what little time you have to spend together. Though Alexia sometimes feels like there are hands wrapped around her neck after she failed to win the Champions League once more, she is more than happy to take advantage of the time off before she tries to make amends internationally. 

“Mm. You are magically both.” 

You tug your sunglasses – Prada, brand-new from a modelling campaign – down slightly, so that they sit lower on your nose. The sun is warm and doing its best to wear Nico down as he finds his discarded spade and begins to dig, and Elena is still fast asleep.

A mischievous grin forms on your lips, one that Alexia knows well. Topless, she flips over onto her back, excusing herself with a muttered comment about an ‘even tan’, and that is invitation enough for you to cup her cheek, your touch as fiery as the surface of the sun that blankets the beach. The gentle breeze ruffles your hair as you lower yourself down to her level. 

“The phrase is ‘annoyingly sexy’ in English, darling,” you murmur, your eyes locked onto hers. Even now, after six years, the proximity ignites desire over every inch of your skin, and you cannot wait to kiss. Alexia’s initial grumble turns into a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something more. Impatiently, you kiss her, aware that the moment will soon be ruined by a spray of sand as Nico pursues his mission. 

She is just as eager to kiss you back, craving the way you seem to hold the solution to every problem. Part of Alexia’s mind has not yet been able to comprehend the way in which you love her. It is hidden by the other, much larger compartment: the one that reminds her every day that she should never, ever tell you, because it would break your heart. To you, Alexia is making up for lost time. To her, she is secretly begging for forgiveness that you don’t even know she is due. 

She knows the minute your phone rings that everything is about to go wrong. No one is supposed to call you today; you have been emphatic about it. You blindly reach for the ringing device, ready to lob it into the ocean, but Alexia grabs your wrist. “It must be something important,” she says, and it feels like she is telling you she understands; you are busy, and she understands. 

“I’ll be quick, I promise.” With a quick jog up the steps and onto the concrete of the promenade, you perch on the stone wall separating the beach from the carpark, bare feet swinging over the edge. The rough surface of the wall presses uncomfortably into the exposed flesh of your bum, but you remind yourself that you will soon be lying back down on the beach towels. “Hi? I thought we agreed that pretty much everything could wait until tomorrow. I don’t care about any photos taken of me, and you know that my automatic position is simply to ensure that the children’s faces are blurred out before they get spread around.” 

“Y/n!” Your publicist sounds nervous. It’s a stressful job, you guess. Between organising interviews and brand deals and the like, she has to stamp down on unwanted rumours and be on the look-out for any perceived cracks in your very public person. Naturally, you are not perfect. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Hi.” 

“I’m afraid that it’s not a picture of you this time.” Alexia is now famous in her own right, as she always should have been. With a Ballon d’Or under her belt, you have been promoted to a ‘celebrity couple’.

“She has her own team, you know.” 

“I’m sure she will be firing them soon.” The joke fails to land, instead crashing and burning and… You freeze. 

“Why?”

“I am sure that you are aware we have feelers out for anything that could potentially harm your reputation.” You nod foolishly, caught up in the undisclosed severity of the phone call, forgetting that she cannot see you. “An hour ago, we were contacted by a photographer; one of the usual ones we get in when you’re in need of a bit of a press-boost. He’s based in Barcelona, has lots of friends in the area and such. I have the terrible job of telling you.”

Your heart quickens as the confession hangs in the air, leaving a heavy silence on the other end of the line. The anticipation builds, and you can almost feel the impending storm swirling just off the coast, waves beginning to thrash against rocks, nature beginning to tear the world down. 

“He claims to have some photos, ones that could potentially damage your image,” she says, tone measured and professional. “I haven’t seen them yet, but he described them as… intimate, to say the least.” 

“Of Alexia?” you question carefully, forcing the words onto your tongue. “Intimate? What do you mean?”

“Well, they are of her and someone else. Someone who isn’t you.” 

“Who?” Dread sets in, and the wall is suddenly not the most uncomfortable thing about your position. You feel too exposed, unsafe in what you are wearing. Taken advantage of, perhaps. 

Cheated. 

“I have not seen the photos yet, babe. I don’t know what else to tell you.” He would have attached them in his email. Paparazzos don’t have time to harass you digitally as well as in real-life. She must have avoided opening them. Or. Or she is lying.

“I need to see those pictures,” you assert, your need for clarity driving the sentence forwards. 

“Are you sure?” You nod again, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, knowing that she cannot see you but feeling helpless to do anything else. She takes your silence as confirmation. There is a brief click of a mouse, and the animated swoosh of an email. “They should come through in a moment.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Are you… alright?” 

She quickly takes the hint from the lack of response and hangs up. 

You rest your phone on your thigh as your arms grip onto the ledge of the wall, pulling yourself backwards so that you do not fling yourself off it. You shake as you reach safety, and your fingers feel numb as they tap the screen, accessing your emails robotically until a pinwheel is all that separates you from the photos. 

Intimate, huh. 

They are practically snogging. 

There are eleven images, and each one delivers a blow more painful than the last. 

The beach feels confined, like an elaborate cage that you cannot escape. The shoreline creeps towards you, and you seem to be pressed against the hot metal of the car in the carpark. You struggle to recognise the scenes captured as ones where you were present, and the unfortunate date in the bottom right-hand corner evidences the photos as a time when you were not in Barcelona at all: 2021. 

The realisation hits hard and you find that everything you have ever believed to be true has simply been a cruel joke that you were excluded from.

What you have been sent is more than just proof; it is a betrayal etched in pixels, an undeniable record of a moment that shatters the foundation of your relationship. Your heart races as your scroll through the images, cruelly reminded of a reality you desperately wish were not true. One you had no idea existed. One that had been kept secret from you. 

The lump in your throat grows, and your eyes blur with unshed tears. You are overwhelmed by sharp pain coursing through your veins, and it is as if you have been injected with a poison that burns through your cell tissue, disintegrating every block of your body. It scorches the things you know to be true. 

Love goes up in flames before your eyes. 

And then a voice that you really do not want to hear speaks, and, just like that, the ashes of what has disappeared are suddenly ablaze once more. 

“Nico y yo vamos a tomar helado. ¿Quieres algo?” Sandals, sunglasses, a loose linen shirt. Nico holds her hand, proud of himself. You cannot bear to look at either of them, so you stare at the towels a few metres beneath you. 

“Where is Lena?” 

“Dormida, aún.” 

Shaking, you stand up, enjoying the sharp rocks that pierce into your skin, reminding you that you are yet to die. “Take Nico. I’ll go back down and sit with her.” 

“Vale. Te quiero.” 

You don’t reply. You wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. 

Every step feels as though the world is cracking open and you are going to fall to your death, yet, in the midst of the impending doom, you feel as calm as can be. Numb, perhaps. 

Elena stirs as you adjust the parasol providing her the necessary shade. A hand reaches out, prepared to grab onto you, searching for your body like you are her lifeline. You are her lifeline; you are her mother. And so is Alexia. 

A tear rolls down your cheek as you let her pull your fingers to her mouth, nails brushing her lips as she whines with the headache of waking up from a nap. “What are we going to do?” 

…

The car journey home is silent on your part. You stew in your nothingness, unwilling to engage in the light conversation Alexia creates to keep Nico awake before his sleep schedule is ruined. Barcelona flashes past you, and the city that you once admired feels like the scene of a crime. Looking out the window is almost as sickening as if your eyes were to land on the woman beside you. Almost. 

You withhold your grief for the evening, going through the motions of nightly chores; putting the kids to bed, finishing the remainder of your packing, drying the dishes without throwing them at the blonde hair that sails past as she sorts her own suitcases out. A few texts are exchanged between you and your publicist, in which you graciously decide that those pictures will not come from you. Though if her team fails to catch them before they reach Twitter, that is not your problem.

Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the comforting blanket of darkness, you clear your throat. 

It has been six hours since you found out.

Every second that has passed has done so with excruciating pain, yet you cannot determine whether it has sunk in at all yet. You wonder if, given the chance, you would crumple into yourself and weep as though she has died. 

When you look at Alexia, readying herself for bed, you decide that the whole situation is laughable. 

You are so stupid. You thought she loved you more than that, and you were embarrassingly incorrect. 

“I want you to leave now,” you say firmly, only the bed between you. Alexia pauses, pyjama shorts halfway up her muscular legs as she peers at you curiously. Her confusion is infuriating. “I want you to… go to your mother’s or something. You’re not sleeping here.” 

“Why? What have I done?” 

She speaks as though this is a normal argument, or as though you are hormonal and unreasonable. You clench your fists and remind yourself not to wake the children up. “I am surprised you didn’t follow her to Mexico.”

It is then that Alexia Putellas realises three things. The first: she hasn’t spoken about Jenni since she left for Pachuca, and she barely pays attention when Nico persuades her to find the stream for the striker’s matches. The second: it has been six months since Jenni called whatever they were doing quits. And the third… the third is how well and truly fucked she is. 

She should have confessed her crime the minute she first slept with her; the night after they were knocked out of the World Cup. Elena wasn’t even a concept, then. You took her back though you were unaware you had ever lost her. 

Last year, when it was Alexia all alone, she should have confessed her second betrayal. A longer, more hurtful betrayal. Something fuelled by meaningfulness, not passion and heightened adrenaline. If she were in your position, the physicality would not be what obliterated her heart; the emotion behind the entire affair would. 

She wipes her eyes, aware that she has started to cry. It is all the confirmation you need. “I’m so sorry,” is the only thing she can think to say, but ‘sorry’ does not amount to the pain she knows she has caused. ‘Sorry’ won’t heal a wound that has cut deep, cut through years of love and happiness and supposed loyalty. ‘Sorry’ does not change the fact that Alexia lent herself to Jenni, let Jenni take her in any capacity she wished, and then returned to you as though it had never even happened. 

In all honesty, part of Alexia is very curious about how you have found her out. Mapi would not risk being caught up in such a storm, and Jenni would gain only suffering from telling you because she knows that Alexia would never choose her. Though she has spent night after night with her finger hovering over her sister’s contact, she resolved never to tell Alba either, for fear that her sister would see her for the monster she is and side with you. Selfishly, Alexia does not want anyone to side with you, but even she finds it easy to hate herself. 

“Is that all you can offer me?” you croak, and it is clear to Alexia that you are this calm because you are putting your children before yourself. They do not need to hear their parents’ marriage implode; not tonight, not ever. She cannot bear to meet your eyes as you pierce through her bowed head. “Alexia.” She pulls her shorts up fully, forehead parallel to the floor. “Alexia!” you snap. 

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. 

Alexia Putellas is regarded by most as intimidating, yet, here, she is anything but. She is meek. Pathetic. 

She is a woman who continued to make a stupid mistake although she was given so many opportunities to fix it. 

And, when Alexia finally grows the balls to look into your piercing eyes, she sees, reflected in your hardened, dark pupils, weakness and idiocy, rimmed with the most stinging of betrayals. It kills her to see you fight your own tears, and it is worse when you have to break eye contact because you are afraid you will vomit if it goes on any longer. 

“You are packed, so you can leave tonight. Sort yourself out while I get the children up.” 

Everything is ruined because of her. 

It is the last night Alexia lives under the same roof as you. It is a horrible way to end a golden age, and the worst possible confirmation of the fleetingness of all things that exist. You hate the world, you hate Jennifer Hermoso, and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to hate your wife. 

Alexia says goodbye to a sleepy Nico and a clingy Elena. Your daughter refuses to let her mother go the minute she is passed to her, and all four of you try your best not to cry, whether it be from confusion, regret, or heartbreak. 

Nico, inquisitive as one is at his age, does not let the door open without questions. ‘Why now?’ is what causes Alexia to freeze, searching on your face for permission to have one more second with him. You cup the back of Elena’s head, fingers splaying out against her soft hair, soothing her back to sleep. And you nod. 

She crouches to his level, dwarfed by her suitcases. In her pocket, her phone buzzes; her taxi has arrived. “¿Te acuerdas cuando te hablé sobre la responsabilidad? Soy la capitana, cariño, y tengo que cuidar a mi equipo, así que ‘ahora’ es lo mejor para ellas.” You are grateful for the lie. 

“¿Ahora yo mando? ¿Como me dijiste?” 

“Sí. Tienes que cuidar a Mama y Lela, y protegerlas como yo os protejo a vosotros. Y nos veremos prontito, petit. Te lo prometo.”

He is fighting his tears, stiff like a toy soldier marching off to an imaginary battle. You half expect Nico to salute with his chubby, unpractised fingers, but he simply stands there, between Alexia and you. Though Elena is safe in your arms, Nico is caught in the crossfire, two feet innocently leading him into no man’s land. 

You take a deep breath as Alexia closes the door behind her. She has been driven out – her own doing – and she knows, because she knows you, that there will be no space in your life for her until your gaping wound dulls in pain. The journey to her mother’s house is the second time she ever considers killing herself, with the first being the night her father died. 

But this is how it goes. 

You fly to England the next day, holding it together until Elena and Nico are safely in the hands of Anya, but you do not give her a reason for her much-needed babysitting abilities.

It is a small secret. You keep it because on top of being in agony, you are so fucking embarrassed. You. You got cheated on. You weren’t enough for her. (And Jenni was?) It’s really easy to pretend you’re stressed for Alexia, knowing she is heading into a tournament that Spain could win but won’t. 

The first official step you take – the very first – is with a nanny. You meet her the day after landing at London Stansted, and she seems to be the perfect choice for the interim period of your life that you have unexpectedly entered; she speaks Spanish, she is discreet, and she reassures you that she is there to enhance family life, not destroy it. And possibly another alluring factor: she is quick to sign an NDA and promise that no photos of your children will make it into any dogshit magazine. 

Her first interaction with your children is two hours before your lunch with your publicist, manager, producer, and lawyer. They have agreed to congregate – they have seen the pictures (an exclusive peek, as the deliciously world-destroying surprise photoshoot has not yet been picked up by anyone with ganas to publish it). Each one has a purpose, each one wants to profit off your heartbreak, and, though they’d never admit it for fear of breaking their hard exteriors, each invitee would also like to see if you’re okay. 

“Do you… like her?” you sheepishly ask your son while Isabela, the nanny, supervises Elena’s lunch. You’re not entirely sure your daughter understands that the hummus is supposed to go into her mouth, not redecorate the highchair table from white to beige, but Isabela does her best to instruct her, the familiar tinkle of Alexia’s language making your daughter’s eyes light up.  

He looks a little puzzled. “Is she a babysitter?” 

“Sort of.” You sigh, “it’s just that I have a lot to do, and Mami is playing football now. Isabela is going to help us, but I want to make sure that you want that.” 

Nico shrugs. “Don’t care.” 

“And she’s going to speak in Spanish, just like Mami does.” In anticipation of a worse reaction, you wince at the slight insinuation that you’re replacing Alexia. He doesn’t pick up on it. 

“She sounds funny.” 

“That’s because she’s from Colombia,” you answer him, and he nods, storing that information for later. Probably for when Alexia calls to speak to him (a moment you are dreading). 

“Is Colombia near Mexico?” He perks up; you know what’s coming next. “Does Isabela know Jenni?” 

You have to remind yourself that Nico has not done anything wrong. The fault of the mother is not the son’s, and, briefly, you pray he has inherited your fidelity for the sake of his future partners. 

You pretend that the name that just fell from his lips does not fill you with the overwhelming urge to strangle someone. And, calmly, you reply, “probably not, but you can always ask her.” 

…

Alexia does not know what to do. 

She wishes, she really does, that someone would pass her a clock… and she knows she has trained and worked hard enough to wrestle the hands of time back a year and change her decisions in every situation. Alas, that is impossible. 

She tells Mapi, as the team touches down in England, what has happened. The defender is unimpressed – angry, even, at her best friend – but nothing warrants what is to come. 

The morning feels eerily normal. Breakfast is difficult, especially when all Alexia can think while she eats is that every morsel in her mouth fuels the monster she has become. Every bite, every sip of coffee, leads her to live another day. She is not particularly certain that she deserves that. 

Mapi does not look at her, swerves her request to be partners when training begins. Head down, eyes slowly filling with tears, Alexia takes the punishment. She says nothing when Pina pinches her side, “Patri’s being annoying”, and drags her into the drill. 

She runs, she passes the ball, Pina turns and shoots it into the mini-net. 

Pina runs, she passes the ball, Alexia turns. 

Something goes wrong. 

Maybe it is that the pitch is uneven, cut up from whoever had trained before. Maybe it’s the pass, slightly off-target. Maybe she is at that point in her menstrual cycle where the risk of injury is higher – that’s being looked into, isn’t it? 

Maybe it’s that her body can no longer stay so robust when everything else in her life is hurtling towards the ground in the most epic downhill slope possible. 

Maybe. 

The pop is unmistakable, and the pain searing. She can’t help the scream she lets out, barely registering whoever has rushed to her side while she presses her face into the dirt, tears watering the grass.

“I’ve done my ACL,” Alexia gasps, lifting her head up slightly. She catches sight of the blue sky, the green grass. The bright sun shining down on her, hot against her neck but nothing in comparison to the agony in her knee. 

She blinks, thinking her eyes are blurring from her tears. 

A second later, she is unconscious. 

When Alexia wakes up, she is glad to have passed out. She has no memory of being hauled off the pitch or brought into the medical room. Her head aches and her knee throbs, but she knows that there is someone beside her so she does her best to hold in the immediate wave of sobs that seem to take over her. 

A calloused hand reaches for hers, unclenching her fist, urging her to squeeze the pain away, pass off some of it to her companion. They have given her pain medication. She can tell because the white walls dance around her and the only word she can manage to get out is your name. 

She whispers it over and over again. 

“I know,” comes a soothing voice, poorly concealing the worry that cracks the tone. “Shh, I know, I know. You’re okay, Ale. She’s… she’s on her way.” 

…

The call is unexpected. 

Mapi never has much reason to talk to you on your own, unless you share a concern for your wife’s wellbeing. You suppose that’s a bit of a redundant commonality now. Your lawyers have drawn up a custody agreement and, upon meek request, divorce papers: a gift for after the Euros. 

“Dime, Mapi. Estoy trabajando,” you say curtly, signalling from inside the booth that the phone call is nothing to worry about and you can resume the recording session in a moment. 

Mapi’s news makes you even more resentful than you were already feeling, because you can’t help but sprint to your car the minute the address is given. 

…

Pain becomes part of everyday life.

Crutches, too. 

Alba and Eli already existed as frequent visitors, but the former increases her appearances so that she has moved in the day before Alexia’s surgery. 

It spills out, the night of the surgery, that Alexia and you are no longer together. That you left her, with good reason. It’s a surprise, considering you had stayed by her side during the twelve hours in England between the medical room, the hospital, and the airport. 

When Alexia reluctantly tells Alba why, Alba decides that you are a saint and her sister, a sinner. She holds her hands behind her back to keep herself from slapping Alexia across the face, but little does she know, Alexia longs for the anger, wishing she wasn’t being pitied for her injury. She wishes there was no injury to be pitied for, but, then again, she tells herself that she deserves it and accepts the agony as one would hold a blade to their wrists and slit them. 

This behaviour, this quiet ideology that she has been punished for her mistake, is what leads Alba to ensure the keys to the balcony are hidden and the kitchen knives are tucked away in a cupboard, out of sight. Or perhaps it is what she hears her sister telling herself in the mirror. Worthless. Degenerate. Evil, cruel, horrible. Selfish! 

She has two children with you, for God’s sake!

“I have ruined my own life.” Her words burn, the intensity of her anger enough to make Alba flinch, hands gripping the steering wheel harder, forcing her way forwards. The hospital comes into view and Alexia cries out in anguish. “I have ruined it, Alba! I have ruined everything!”

Alexia, The Ruiner. 

She bears the new name with something more than disappointment. She lets the nurses examine her knee, compliment Alba for her care-taking, and reassure her about the surgery. She lets them talk her through possible complications, secretly hoping one will occur and she will wither away; no longer a footballer, no longer a mother, no longer your wife. Just Alexia, The Ruiner. 

Alba and her argue, Alexia lying back in the cot, hospital gown patterned against clinically white sheets, light fabric against her paling skin. “You wanting to die is not you wanting to kill yourself. It’s your regret, and it’s your cowardice at not being able to face the consequences of your actions.” Alexia had been hot-headed enough to voice how she did not want to make it through the surgery. She is in excruciating pain, and is convinced they need to investigate it. “It’s your knee, not your heart. Your heart hurts because you cheated on her and she rightfully left you! Don’t you ever say something so fucking stupid again.” 

“Alba!” Eli’s entrance is neither good nor bad. “Alba, leave her.” Alexia’s tears run down the sides of her face, hitting the sheets like little bullets. The soft caress of her mother’s hand across her cheek is no comfort, and Alexia only sobs harder. “You are going to be fine, mi cielo. The surgery is going to go well and you will come back even stronger.” 

Alexia knows that, once you have torn your ACL, you are more likely to tear it again, so she mentally disputes her mother’s claim. She has no energy to voice the thought, however. 

“Mamá, she’s convinced she’s going to have a heart attack.” Alba points to her sister’s chest, as if to disagree by showing their mother that nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. They begin to argue, and Alexia watches her family implode, deeming herself once more, Alexia, The Ruiner. 

It’s not a heart attack, it turns out. She falls victim to a severe panic attack just as they begin to wheel her away. They increase her dosage of anaesthetic. 

Unfortunately, the next morning Alexia comes to after a successful surgery and remembers nothing. That is until she looks to her bedside and finds only her mother there (Alba having gone to the big, empty apartment to adjust it to her sister’s newly-disabled lifestyle). 

She relives the kisses Jenni used to press to her neck, the marks sucked into her skin though Jenni knew she was not hers to brand. She relives your expression when you told her you knew, the grimace you had worn, the way your eyes flicked to the ensuite as though you were going to throw up at any point. 

She hears her knee pop again, sees the trophy slip from her grasp, sees it float into the realm of possibility along with the Champions League cup. 

“You’re awake,” Eli says with surprise, offering a warm but sympathetic smile. She reaches out to touch Alexia, but Alexia jerks her body backwards, instantly regretting it when her knee begins to ache unbearably. “They said you’ll be in a lot of pain at first, but it will subside and, soon, you can start recovery. Your physiotherapist is going to visit in an hour or so, and I cannot count how many well-wishes you have received.” Weirdly, Eli thinks to herself, Jenni has said nothing. 

Alexia shakes her head, trying to dispel the fog in her mind. “Do the… Do the children know I am hurt?” 

“I believe so,” Eli replies with a nod. “Y/n broke the news to them, but we haven’t heard from her since you went into the operating theatre. I have no idea whether she’s going to come here. I assume she will.” 

“She won’t,” mutters Alexia, refusing to look at her mother.

“Oh, don’t be so gloomy. She’s your wife, of course she is going to come.” A dark storm brews in the cagey hospital room, but Eli remains an oblivious ray of sunshine. “I know you don’t want Nico and Lela to see you like this, but they miss you. They must have been so excited for the Euros!” 

All of it is the wrong thing to say. If Eli had known, she would have approached the uncertainty differently. 

If Alexia were not so angry at herself, so guilty, so destructive, she would have calmly explained that your absence is both warranted and understandable. 

Instead. 

Well, instead, this comes out of her: “She is not going to come because I had a fucking affair and she has left me and taken the children to fucking England where they are probably never going to be allowed to see me ever, and I will live out the rest of my days as a fucking coach because I am useless and I am never going to play football again!” 

Eli sits back in her chair, shocked. 

“What have you done?” 

Neither knows if it is a question or a damnation, but Alexia chooses to answer her mother regardless; “I have ruined everything, and now I am paying the price for it.” 

…

Your friends gloat a little bit, calling it Karma. Anya and Gio are first in disbelief, but they soon progress onto the stage of hatred – something you have not yet been able to access. 

For now, life feels as though it is on auto-pilot. Your children are happy and safe, your country is going to do well in the Euros, and time does not stop ticking no matter how hard you wish it would. 

Alexia’s surgery is successful. You see the update on Twitter, not wanting to contact Alba or Eli in case Alexia thinks you have forgiven her. You haven’t. Perhaps you never will. 

“There are two ways you can go about this,” Gio says with a smirk, holding out a thong to you as you stand in your bedroom in just a towel. “You’re hot and rich and famous… and now single, too.” You are not completely sure of that, but you nod, following along. You slip into the lace and then point to the England shirt folded on top of your pillow. It gets thrown at your face. “You can wallow in it and weep like a damsel in distress, giving her the satisfaction of breaking your heart…” 

“I don’t think she wanted to–” 

“She cheated on you,” Gio cuts you off bluntly. After a moment, your shoulders drop and you resign to hearing her plan. “As said earlier, hot, rich, famous… Babe, just get with someone else. Get with everyone else! Your babies are looked after 24/7 and this is London, my dear. The pond is really an ocean and you are a catch. As your bestest friend, I know what’s best for you. You’ve got an album coming out in September, a tour to hop on in November, and about three thousand dildos you can hop on after that!” 

You cringe. “Don’t be crass.” 

“Don’t be a prude.” She gestures to herself. “Look at me; Mia’s fine and healthy, doesn’t legally have to see her arsehole of a father, and I get a good shag every fortnight.” 

“No, I’ve drawn up the custody agreement already. I’ll go back to Barcelona when the school year starts, and we can swap every two weekends. But I’m keeping our home – she can find somewhere else to live, seeing as all of this is her fault.” 

“And the tour?” Gio asks as you pull on your England jersey and a pair of shorts. Good weather has blessed the start of the tournament, and you have been invited to the first match at Old Trafford by Manchester United themselves. Gio and Anya are coming, and you think they have put you in with a few of their players and executives. Your father has his own ticket, planning to meet you there and convince you to pay your grandmother a visit (she doesn’t like that you are lesbian and therefore you don’t like her). 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “because I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to make the children’s lives even more unstable. Maybe it’s best to give them a few months to adjust to the idea of us not being together.” 

Gio hums in agreement, knowing she had it easy with her own co-parenting adjustment because her daughter was a baby with no recollection of her parents being a couple, much less in-love. “You’re a good mum.” She kisses your cheek and wraps you in a very needed hug. “You’ll get through this because you are stronger than a pathetic affair.”

You swear. 

“What time’s our train leaving?!” 

The match is a good one, and the atmosphere is enough to make you feel the slightest bit alive. Spain plays in two days, and though you have good reason to believe Alexia is going to be there, you are booking a family trip to Legoland to delay the first hand-off of many. 

England win with one goal to nil, courtesy of Beth Mead’s chip. You are on your feet, cheering the entire match. One of the United executives tells you that he loves your passion and asks you if you’d take his ticket to the post-match drinks as he wants to head home for a nap. You laugh, the old Mancunian reminding you of your father, and accept. It’s just the one ticket, so you bid Gio and Anya goodbye, book a hotel for the night (comfortable with the idea that Isabela has safe hands to care for your children), and give your father a valid reason to pass up on the visit to Didsbury. 

The only person at this event that you really know is Alessia Russo, after exchanging a few DMs last Christmas to wrangle a signed Manchester United jersey for Nico’s Christmas present (a gift Alexia had refused to say was from her as well). 

“No kids today?” she asks with a grin, pulling you into a friendly hug. 

“Didn’t manage to get them tickets,” you reply. “But now I get to drink, and you get to watch me and wish you weren’t on a nutrition plan.” 

She shakes her head. “We’ve actually been instructed to celebrate the wins. Sarina Wiegman says it’s a key part of tournament success.” You look around the room, noticing every Lioness here, hair still wet from the showers and donning team-issued tracksuits, has a can of beer in their hands. Jorge Vilda could never. “Glad to see you haven’t yet become a Spain and Barcelona fan. Feeling patriotic enough to be introduced to our captain?” 

Leah Williamson bears the same concentrated eyes gifted to Alexia; determination, victory, leadership. 

You’re unsure if you have ever formally met her, perhaps at the Brits once. “I go with Alex? Alex Scott,” she says, as though she is trying to impress you. She takes the briefest of looks down to your hands that hang near your waist with no glass to hold (the bar has cut you off for half an hour). 

You wear one ring. It is not the one with which Alexia promised you her total devotion, but it is from her all the same. An old gift – maybe from your first anniversary? 

Leah doesn’t ask whether you are still married. 

“I heard your son loves football?” He is obsessed with his mother, he wishes to follow her in every single thing she does. “You should bring him to our next match. I’ll get him one of those passes, and– Hey, you know what? I bet there’s a way I can get him a place as a mascot for one of the matches! Both our next ones are down south.” 

You smile. “Really?” 

“Yeah, course. He might be a bit young but I’m always glad to help out our little fans, and it might throw Spain off their game.” She winks, offering no further explanation, and is suddenly called away before you can request more information. 

You have to admit, the idea of Nico walking (toddling) out with England makes you feel both proud and satisfied. It will be a tiny jab towards Alexia, which, honestly, is a privilege considering how she has stabbed you in the back repeatedly with a machete. 

When your son’s first time on a proper football pitch is with Alessia Russo, holding her hand with wide eyes and a wider smile, you are sure Alexia has smashed the screen of whatever TV she has been studying her opponents with. 

…

Spain playing England in the quarter-final feels intensely political within your family. 

Alexia is in Brighton for the first time in her life, and she hates more than anything that she is not preparing herself for a match. She won’t be going through her pre-game rituals for another seven months, at least. 

You tell Isabela to take the children to Alexia’s hotel, unable to put yourself in front of the wheel. Your hands have not stopped shaking since your manager texted you a screenshot of their conversation (seeing as you refuse to talk to her, not for pettiness but for fear of breaking yourself in two), and Isabela poured you a glass of wine before she left to calm your nerves. 

You feel sick, and the toilet water turns red as your body rejects the rioja. Once you have wiped your mouth, you laugh at the notion that even Spanish wine is unwelcome inside of you. 

“Who are you?” Alexia demands as the revolving doors of the lobby reveal her two babies with a stranger. She is quick to remove Elena from the arms of this new woman, although she is disgruntled by how comfortable her daughter seems. One of her crutches falls to the ground, Alexia not having been able to master childcare and post-surgery impairments because she has not seen the children she is supposed to care for, but she does not find it in herself to care.

“Hola, Sra. Putellas. Encantada.” Isabela holds out her hand but Alexia does not shake it, jaw clenched at the way you have gotten a Spanish-speaking nanny as though to completely erase her babies’ Catalan accents and memory of their other mother! “Me contrataron para ayudar a Y/n con los niños. Me dijeron que usted se encargaría de ellos hoy.”

“Sí, lo estoy haciendo, porque son MIS hijos.” She looks at Nico, who has been hiding shyly behind his nanny’s leg, afraid of his mother’s fierceness. Alexia softens, hoping to welcome him into her embrace, but her stupid knee won’t bend and she can’t get onto his level. Isabela reaches out to help her, or to at least steady her so that she doesn’t drop the squirming toddler she is holding, but the help is unwanted and, quite frankly, embarrassing. 

Alexia’s frustration brings tears to her eyes. 

She quickly blinks them back. 

“¿Le gustaría que la ayudara, Sra. Putellas? Me han pagado por trabajar hoy, así que no es un proble–” 

“¡No!” Alexia snaps. Silently, she curses how condescending and petty you have become. Paying the nanny in advance to taunt her for her injuries! “No. Estaré bien. Soy su madre.”

“Por supuesto, pero también está herida.” Isabela looks around the lobby for a moment. “¿Está sola?” 

Alexia knows that Mapi’s parents are going to be arriving any minute now, kindly offering to help out with Nico and Elena. “Oh, we do not mind! We’d love for María to have children of her own,” they had said. 

“Soy perfectamente capaz de manejarlo–” 

“Isabela,” Isabela supplies. 

“Isabela,” Alexia repeats. “Ahora, si ha terminado, vaya a disfrutar su día libre.” 

She waits on the sofa just left of the door for Mapi’s parents, silently begging them to arrive as soon as possible. Nico is bored and would like to run around, upset that Alexia denies him his fun whenever he whines to play. Elena is tired, grumpily napping in Alexia’s lap, but that means she can’t position her knee the way the surgeons had asked her to. Isabela hadn’t meant to, but she had dumped two rucksacks of toys, snacks, and clothes onto Alexia, who still hasn’t been able to retrieve her crutch from the floor. 

Close to tears and very overwhelmed, the arrival of the couple comes as a great relief. “Oh, you poor thing,” coos Mapi’s mother, a caring woman from whom her friend inherited the same quality. She kisses Alexia’s forehead and instantly takes the weight from her lap, hushing the soft whimpers Elena lets out. “Let us look after the babies. You make sure you have the tickets sorted. Have you taken your pain medication? Oh, let me take care of it for you.” 

The fuss is something she has had to get used to, but she is thankful for the assistance. They wrestle Nico into his red Spain jersey, something he was not delivered in, and they ensure all three of their wards are comfortable before the stadium appears in the windshield of the taxi. 

Alexia begins to get nervous. 

Spain has more talent than England – always has – but they don’t have the same funding nor support. Their manager is a dickhead and the federation corrupt, and Alexia’s teammates suffer daily in a way no Lioness would be able to comprehend. She fears for their reputation, for their progression. 

Her nerves increase when she sees you in the stands, in your own box of course. It seems that you see her too, but your only acknowledgement of her presence is the wave you give to your children. Alexia has to remind them sharply in Catalan that they are Spanish. 

Afterwards, when Spain lost and Alexia is blaming herself for the defeat, you walk through the tunnel, following Leah’s directions that she had sent over text. You’d added her to your contacts yesterday, growing tired of Instagram DMs.

The odd thing about this area is that to your left, nothing is heard and the air hangs its head in shame, but to your right, a nation celebrates its victory. Sadly, you know you have to fetch your children from the Spain changing room before you say goodbye to the English heroines. 

You knock on the door, politely. You have never been more glad that a player has not been selected for a squad. Jenni has missed the Euros due to injury, much like her partner-in-crime. 

A solemn Ona Batlle, a Manchester United player who serves as a bridge between worlds in your household, opens the door, making no attempt to force a smile when she sees that it is you. You are (were) their captain’s wife; you are like family. 

“Hi,” you breathe, not wanting to be the one to pierce through the silence. 

Ona stands to one side and you pass. 

Most of the girls are tearful, sniffling into their jerseys, heads in their hands, but no one is as distraught as Mapi. Her sobs take the fun out of winning, her devastation crushing and contagious and impossibly hard to ignore. She buries her face into Alexia’s shoulder, but it does nothing to muffle her cries. 

You gulp, catching hazel eyes, understanding the plea to not make this feel worse. 

You are heartbroken, and so is Mapi. For different reasons, yes, but both organs are shattered in the same way. 

Alexia mutters something very quietly, secretly wishing Mapi does not let her go because this is the first time the defender has actually spoken to her since Alexia did what she did, but the blonde hair stops itching her face soon enough. 

Rooted to the spot, you search the room for two smaller Spaniards, finding them both taking after Alexia, comforting the players. 

“Nico, Lela, come on,” you croak, finding tears in your own eyes. “Say bye-bye to Mami.��� 

Their hugs and kisses are missed the moment Alexia leaves the country, and the absence of them makes Alexia crumble completely when she finds the letter from your lawyer that Alba has been hiding from her. 

…

September rolls around with school, the start of your custody agreement, and the release of your new album. 

Judgement Day. 

For many, it confirms the split from your wife. Those pictures were never picked up by a magazine, so you have had them deleted with a baseless threat to sue for defamation.

Alexia no longer has to communicate with you through one of your employees, but any texts exchanged are few and far between. She tells you that she is renting a flat near the training centre. It has three bedrooms, but Nico and Elena share one because her mother is living with her while she recovers from her ACL. She also partially tore her meniscus, though she had hesitated to pass that news on, but everything seems to be in order and she is ahead of schedule.

You reluctantly text her whenever you leave the country, whether that is because you are flying to London for work (and to visit Leah, who you are now good friends with) or because a club opening has called and you have answered. It’s not as messy as the media makes it seem, but you agree with the articles that say you seem to drink as though it is what keeps you alive. The word ‘addict’ gets thrown around, but you are sitting in an armchair in front of your therapist before that escalates, if not for yourself then for the sake of your children. 

They themselves do not understand. Nico frequently asks when Alexia will come home, though he has usually just visited her when this question pops out, and Elena throws big tantrums during the swaps. Those are done at a neutral location: the park near you. You hope the playground takes the edge off the palpable tension between you and Alexia as you sit on opposite sides of the same bench, exchanging brief updates about your shared duty until whoever is a mother for the next two weekends makes up an excuse to go. 

Just before Christmas, once you have calculated that it’s technically Alexia’s turn with their children until January, you go on your biggest night-out since the days when all you were was a 2010s pop star in a girl-group. With no one to go home to and an empty house in Highgate awaiting your return, you get the closest to sleeping with someone else since before meeting Alexia. Her lips trail down your neck, the white powder on her nose rubbing onto your skin as she presses herself into you. You grope her body desperately, painfully dissatisfied by the bones and creamy skin your hands find. You are used to muscle, to strength, to power. 

Not some anorexic model who calls you a MILF and hasn’t had a sober day in years. 

In the end, you don’t end up sleeping with her, but it makes the headlines nonetheless. Your publicist lets them. “The world needs to see you move on, even if you aren’t,” she says. Your slight disagreement is not voiced, and social media explodes with further confirmation that you are single. A group of football fans are quick to attack you, calling you cruel for leaving Alexia when she is injured, but the thousand-person army doesn’t particularly bother you. You are doing your ex a favour by not opening up about the reason for the split, and you are both aware of that. 

You spend Christmas with your parents, who are not pleased to have you moping about their house. Your father tells you that success is the best revenge. You tell him that your album has topped the charts in December, winning its battle against Christmas music. 

“But that hasn’t mended a broken heart,” he is unkind enough to point out. “And neither will models, drugs, or alcohol.” 

At this point in the day, you have made it through a bottle and a half of wine and a pack of Marlboro Golds. Voice hoarse from smoking and sobbing the entirety of Christmas Eve, you tell him to “fuck off” and call a taxi for yourself. 

You don’t remember the destination you had typed in, but you end up at Leah Williamson’s house. 

Leah is home, having returned from Milton Keynes half an hour ago, and is not really surprised by the state you are in. She supposes that she has gotten to know you well enough to realise that you are far from stable. This is the first time the English captain has seen you heartbroken, but she is unsure whether it will be the last. 

…

Your tour commences the following month, with January being a fresh start to a new year. You tell Leah, who invites you out with her on NYE, that this year you won't be cheated on. It is not the comment that makes her laugh, but rather the way it slurs out of your mouth.

Barcelona feels suffocating when you arrive at the park to say goodbye to Nico and Elena. You’ll be in the States for the entire month and maybe some of February. Alexia is sure it will be fine, especially since the team has taken it upon themselves to look after the two children and help where they can. Additionally, Alexia is growing closer to one of her friends, Olga, who loves children and wanted to be a teacher before she decided on something much cooler. 

Alexia has the courtesy to send Mapi and Ingrid in her place, knowing that you do not want to talk to her. You haven’t yet heard her explanation, but that does not matter. Nothing excuses what she did, and nothing will. (And with Jenni, who is no longer the godmother to Elena, the title being revoked instantly.)

“Will you miss us?” Nico asks as you kiss his soft hair, hugging him tightly. “Mami said that we have to swap every three findes so why no now?” 

“Why not now?” you gently correct him. “Because I have to work. I’m going to sing in front of lots and lots of people and, maybe, write some new songs!” Your attempt to excite him crashes and burns, but you are not going to give up. “This is a secret so you can’t tell anyone, but some really, really special people want to make songs with me.” 

“Who?” he pouts. 

“Well, one of Mami’s favourites, Karol G. She is very nice, and she told me she has an idea for a collaboration.” Petty, yes, but also a career move. Nico’s innocence and lack of understanding about the meaning of separation means that he sees your plans as a very nice gift for Alexia.  “And, let me think. Ooh, Bad Bunny – you know him, don’t you? I’m sure Pina or Patri or–” 

He pulls away from your embrace, taking a step back. “Sí,” he says, sounding exactly like Alexia, “but to Mami, she no like because he says rude things.” 

“Adults are allowed to say rude things,” you reply with a cheeky smile, winking at him. “Your mami says rude things all the time, but not in front of you.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep, but you’ll have to ask her about that.” 

Alexia has hobbled through the nighttime routines, aided by Olga, who has halved the job by picking Elena and Nico up from nursery and school and watching them until Alexia’s day at the training ground had ended. Her and Olga haven’t kissed yet, but Alba has advised her sister to be quick about it if she ever intends to. Alexia is not sure she does want that, because your absence has only made how much she loves you (and how much she fucked up) even more obvious.

Their beds are on opposite sides of the room, which is technically the master bedroom – only fair, Alexia thinks, because they are having to share here but not when staying with you – and Elena is fast asleep by the time Nico is tired of the bedtime stories he has relentlessly requested. She brushes off the slight sting of his dismissal of her acting and helps him settle underneath the covers. 

As usual, she presses a kiss to both cheeks and the tip of his nose, and tells him to have nice dreams and a good rest. The weekend starts tomorrow, which means he gets to join Alexia at the training centre and sit in on the sessions. Alexia is slightly jealous because she is still stuck in the gym, but as long as he is entertained, she will get over it.

“Mami, how long is a month?” asks Nico, voice small and groggy and… is that a hint of an accent? Maybe the two and a half months of Isabela’s Spanish has affected him. She will look into it. 

He tugs on her jumper when she spaces out. “Sorry,” Alexia whispers. “A month is thirty days. Maybe you need to pay attention at school.” She pokes his cheek playfully, and he giggles. 

“I do pay attention, I do. Thirty days is long.” 

Alexia dreams of the football pitch, of the grass she has been promised she will play on before April. “It can be very long,” comes her agreement, picturing where in her recovery she will be come February. “It can also be very short.” 

“I miss Mama.” 

His statement, unbeknownst to him, is uncomfortably relatable. 

“Thirty days will be very short. You’ll see her again soon, and, you know what? She made me promise to give you goodnight kisses from her every night! She is going to send them to me from America, and I’ll pass them onto you.” 

“Really?” 

“Sí,” says Alexia with pursed lips, raising her eyebrows to invite him to doubt her. He looks up at her with adoration, as if her word is law. She can only be thankful that you are merciful enough to have not turned her own children against her. You have expressed your wish to keep them from being collateral damage, and Alexia respects you for that. 

“Mama said that she makes songs in LA with Karol G!” 

Then again, there are other ways to be petty.

…

Touring has always exhausted you. Eat, sleep, travel, sing, in varying orders; the schedule grows repetitive and tight after the first week.

After the first show in LA, you bring a blurry face to your hotel room. You kiss her, you can’t bear to do anything more, and you let her sleep off her drugs in your bed while you take the sofa in your suite. 

High on adrenaline half the time and utterly knocked-out when not, you zombie your way through the travelling, grouchily rehearsing new songs on the road, signing merchandise for your screaming fans. You get asked about your private life in a few interviews initially, but the journalists soon learn that the topic is to be avoided if they wish for you to talk to them at all. 

The headlines continue to tear apart images captured of you at clubs, and magazines never seem to find the pictures of you with your children when you visit them while you make your way around Europe. 

There comes a point where you look at a woman and she becomes, in the eyes of the media, your latest plaything. 

Alexia is seething by the time your two-night show in Barcelona rolls around. 

One day, when Nico and Elena understand the concepts of affairs and heartbreak, they will see the articles written about their mothers; the hate Alexia gets, the times she has been called a whore by fans of the same sport she devotes her life to, the stark inequality between her and her male counterparts. With these horrors of the world, they’ll see the pictures of you, pupils blown out, eyes red. Women clinging onto you that perhaps faintly resemble Alexia. 

Because Alexia knows you, because she loves you, she can see that what has been labelled your ‘slay’ era is really fuelled by devastation. A disaster that she caused. It riddles her with guilt, but she doesn't know how to expel that emotion from her head without reverting to the early days of her loneliness where she ate nothing and made her sister seriously worry whether she was going to find her bleeding out in the bathtub one day. And so, with a lack of command over such a strong feeling, she decides to rage. She is furious with your irresponsibility. 

“Where should we eat?” your guitarist asks with a grin as you touchdown in Barcelona. The soft murmur of Spanish and Catalan is unexpectedly comforting, the familiarity grounding. Maybe Barcelona has become your home. Maybe it never stopped being that, because home is where the heart is and, frustratingly, yours still belongs to the woman who tore it out of your chest and didn’t even have the guts to tell you about it. 

“I can’t,” you reply quickly, wiping the sweat from travel off your brow with the sleeve of your turtleneck. “I promised my son I’d tuck him in while I’m in the country, and my daughter has been drawing at nursery so I’d like to collect some of the pictures and see if I can get them blown up onto canvases.” 

Laughing, your crew make their way off the jet. “You know, most celebrities would pay thousands for abstract art but you get yours from a toddler.” 

“She’s talented.” Mapi draws with her, you’ve been told. Elena is what makes Ingrid yearn for a ring to appear in their relationship sooner rather than later. “And take the piss all you want, but if you had had to put my kids through what I have, you’d feel the same.” 

The sofa in the Putellas household (the apartment no longer inhabited by Eli, who was very glad to escape the intense atmosphere as soon as Alexia was cleared to live by herself) houses three unsettled humans of varying sizes. The biggest, Alexia, shifts on the soft, new cushions, awaiting your arrival with gulps of brewing tears and the latest set of paparazzi photos of you fresh in her mind. The boy, Nico, practically vibrates with excitement, promising himself that he will drag out this bedtime as long as possible to make up for all the others you have missed. The smallest is upset because she hasn’t fallen asleep yet, kept awake by her older brother who shakes her whenever she starts to drift off, hastily scolding her with a ‘no, Lela! Mama is coming home’. 

With no key to this flat, you are forced to be buzzed up. 

The anticipation builds. Nico and Alexia try to remember what you smell like, testing themselves to see if they can recall it scent for scent. Have you changed your shampoo? Alexia wonders, Do you still use the same moisturiser?

“Hi, my darlings!” you squeal as the door flies open and Nico comes hurtling into your crouched form, closely followed by his unsteady little sister. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” You squeeze them as though you are never going to let go, and only release them from the hug when Elena begins to whine, adrenaline rush dying and tiredness overcoming her once more. 

“Mama, home,” Nico says with an inaccurate finality. You spare Alexia a glance as he pulls you through the bare walls and grey decor until you reach a door with stickers up and down the white-washed wood. “Mami made me change, but you can read! Lela wants this one.” He rumages through the box of books near the children’s whiteboard (on it, the odd x’s and o’s of football tactics), pulling out a few to stack into his own pile before thrusting something you recognise very well. 

“Mami reads to us in English sometimes,” he says matter-of-factly, though Alexia silently curses him from where she is standing in the doorway. “Important to know.” 

You chuckle. “Mm, very important. How else would you talk to me?” Elena quietly crawls into your lap, happy to take over Nico’s bed, where you are sitting. You stroke her hair, holding her close. “Mami reads you ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’?” 

He is too young to know what scepticism looks like. 

“Es que hay ‘La Pequeña Oruga Glotona’.” 

You refuse to look at the voice which speaks, but you nod. 

“Alright, why don’t you get into bed, and then I’ll start to make my way through the mountain of books. I am absolutely all yours for tonight, my loves.” 

… 

Alexia’s hands slam down on the dining table, slapping against the wood with a loud bang. “Enough!” she exclaims, her voice slicing through the tense air like a knife. Her eyes blaze in fury and you shrivel, not quite sure what you have done to her. You grant her the silence she needs to continue, though her shout echoes through the shattered tranquillity like a bomb that continues to explode. “It is enough.” 

“What, Alexia?” 

You sound kind of… bored once you have regained your composure. Your shock is now replaced with a blank expression, and you run your eyes over your nails, examining your cuticles so that you don’t risk making eye contact with her. 

“You think you can just waltz in here as if you haven’t offered yourself to the entire world and expect everything to be okay?” Her voice trembles with indignation, venom dripping from each word she spits out. “You can’t go from common slut to mother in one day!” 

Nails forgotten, you square your shoulders and set your jaw. “I hadn’t realised you were the jealous type, Ale.” The nickname slips out like a poisonous dart, taunting her, wounding her. It rattles her, and you intend to shake her more. “It’s none of your business, not anymore. Deal with it – or don’t, I don’t care.”

“What kind of example are you setting for our children?” she continues, lips curling into a scornful sneer. “Kissing anything with a mouth! Like some, some hormonal teenager. And to have it all over the papers? It’s trashy! It’s embarrassing for me, because my wife has her hands down the pants of every woman she meets, pumped full of alcohol and drugs and… You, you go to these events, paid to get yourself on the front pages so that they can be mentioned in the location of the incident, and… and that’s like prostitution! Making money from your body, from sex!”

Her fists clench and she storms towards you, footsteps harsher than her bad knee can probably take, but you make no move to back down. You lift your chin up; “I don’t have to resort to prostitution for money. I have more than enough.” 

“Then you do it for attention,” Alexia reasons with herself, albeit very loudly. “That is what you are, aren’t you? A slut for the cameras and the glitz and glamour of it all. So quick to jet off on tour, leaving me with our children–” 

“I may be a ‘slut’ for attention, but at least I am not a whore for a woman who is not my fucking wife!” You press your hand to her chest roughly, pushing her away from you. “I’m not the one who had an affair, I’m not the one who ruined everything!”

Alexia recoils at your words, freeing herself from your searing touch before she melts. She forces her fury to its boiling point. “How dare you,” she seethes, voice cracking at the ferocity in which she forces the sentence out. “You think you can just throw my mistakes in my face?” You hold your ground. She will not intimidate you. “You think you’re so righteous, but you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.” 

It is a baseless accusation. You both know it. 

“The only fact we have here is that you fucked Jenni. Our daughter’s godmother. Your ‘best friend’, my friend too! I trusted her, and I trusted you, and you took that trust and obliterated it by sleeping with her!” 

Alexia wants to cut you deep, wants to give you the gory details of it all, but she hears the croak of your voice and knows you will not make it to your hotel if she tells you.

“I slept with Jenni, sure, but you have passed yourself around enough to make us even.”

“Nothing will make us ‘even’, Alexia,” you cry, meaning to sound scarier than you do. You can’t help the tears from streaming down your face, nor the hoarseness of your throat. “And I would never ever do to you what you did to me!” 

You have to go on vocal rest the next day, otherwise the concert would be called off. 

Alexia refuses to attend, even though most of her teammates will, instead pawning Nico and Elena off to your backstage staff and dangerously driving herself to Alba’s place. 

It is one of those nights where Alba cannot leave her side for fear Alexia will choke herself to death on her tears. When the elder of the two can longer hold it all in, Alba ties her hair back with an old hair bobble so that the blonde strands don’t get in the way of her sister’s vomit. 

("I don't want to live like this," Alexia says, her eyes wide and alert. Her little sister looks at her with empathy, searching, with a broken heart, for a version of a woman from the past she's not sure she knows. This Alexia is not the same.

"Of course you don’t." It's obvious. Obvious by the way she forces her existence without happiness, without company, without a smile. It's like there is no sun in Alexia's world, nor a blue sky, nor an end.

It never ends.

So, she says, "I don't want to live like this, without her, without the family I dream of every night, every waking moment. I don’t want to live, Alba. I didn’t want to live in August, and I haven’t since, and I… I do it because people rely on me." She takes in a deep, acidic breath, grimacing at the taste of bile on her tongue. “If it were just me, just Alexia”--The Ruiner, she silently adds–“I wouldn’t be here. Alba, Alba, I don’t want to live like this.”

She carries on repeating it because Alba has to understand. There can't be a possibility that Alba thinks her sister is insincere. What a lie that would be! To Alexia, she prefers death over continuing like this, with her head in the toilet and vomiting, vomiting, vomiting. 

"If I had the chance, I would go back to August 2021 and never sleep with Jenni. I’d not let her kiss me, not give into it. I'm exhausted from it; from my loneliness, from the kids' questions, asking when their mother will come back home. Do you know that Nico asked me if we still loved him? If she still loves him? And why his friends have two parents and he seems to have a shell of a woman for one, and a vacant space in the king-sized bed for the other?"

"She might not want you again, however, and your imagined future may be false – it is the opposite of reality, no? If I were her, I wouldn't. You cheated on her when she only gave you love and patience and… Well, Alexia, I swear I really want to see you happy, but I just don't think she'll forgive you."

"And why not?"

Alba sighs. She places her hand on Alexia's back, moving it in circles to calm her sister down. When they were little, it was always Alexia who helped Alba. With school, with her problems, with new lovers or ones from the past. It was her responsibility to take care of her little sister, and when their father died and there were only three of them, Alexia felt that responsibility even more. 

Here, roles reversed, Alba can only apply that which she has learnt from the heaving lump of flesh slumped on the chequered tiles. 

"Alba," repeats Alexia, lowering her voice, relenting. "She loves me."

The younger of the two can’t help the tears that brim in her eyes, distressed in her own right. "She loves you despite your other girlfriend because she's a saint. She's a saint but, if you want her to be happy, you cannot take advantage of her," Alba warns gravely, sincerely, and correctly. Alexia lifts her head and looks at the clock on the bathroom wall. Alba's apartment is clean and trendy, just like the woman, and she has dirtied it with her presence. She remains, for the foreseeable future, Alexia, The Ruiner. 

"Smartass."

"It's just the truth."

"Well, if that's the truth, I'd rather you be a liar."

Alba sighs again, more heavily, and asks Alexia to get up from the floor. If Alexia's knee hurts, she says nothing and jumps up and down. "Ay, your knee," Alba grumbles but Alexia keeps going. She keeps going and going until she can't breathe and her lungs hurt. She keeps going because she believes it will rid her of her sadness, or at least hopes so. She hasn't stopped when Alba asks her to. A loud voice breaks the silence. "What are you doing?"

"Destroying everything. If I can't be with her, I don't want to play football. I don't want to walk, or see, or talk. I just don't want to live."

To Alba, this tells her two things. One is that her sister has gone batshit crazy. The other? Well, that is the solution. It's simple, really; one sentence, and Alexia will know what she has to do.

"You need to fix this.")

Heartbreak is ugly, but Alexia’s guilt is uglier.

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Eleven

I may have taken my sweet time writing this, but in my defense, the Felix smut was what my brain wanted to write first, and then life got to me and made me really busy. And here I am, finishing this fic at 3am in the morning lol. But have fun with the chaos of this fic hehe.

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: We see the aftermath and chaos of the company's decision, plus y/n gets some much needed comfort. Oh, and a reveal! wc: 1.8k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: fighting and slapping, threats, angst, slut-shaming and derogatory talk towards y/n, use of the words slut,pussy, whore, etc., lots of misogyny in this chapter folks, and a bunch of like derogatory talk about omegas that is absolutely misogynistic and sexist, lots of cursing, implications that people would take advantage of others, disassociating kinda, shitty people being called the names they deserve, this should be everything masterlist

The fighting went on, it seemingly would never end as insults and angry words kept being thrown back and forth. Ateez and their management yelled back and forth over who had the decision making power over the new member, and for the most part, the auditionees just watched it all happen. What could they do? Nothing. They were just the pawns in the game, really, if one thought about it.

“You said we could have the ability to pick the final member out of that group! We don’t want anyone but y/n!” Wooyoung yelled, getting in the face of one of the staff members, having to be pulled away by Mingi and Yunho.

“I will take all of my members, and we’ll leave KQ, if you continue to insist on your pick for the ninth member. I am not above leaving. We,” Hongjoong said as he gestured to the rest of Ateez, “are not above leaving. I don’t think you want to test how far you can push us before we push back.” He said, his words a thinly veiled threat.

“Who would take you? They don’t want an established group.” The staff member who started all of this stated.

“I can think of a few companies who would gladly take us. You forget we’re a group that has a very large international audience, which is what companies want nowadays.” Hongjoong said, almost too calmly.

“We’ll leave, take everything we can with us, and we’ll go start somewhere else. Atiny will follow us, they like us, not you.” Hongjoong spelled it out for the staff members, who quickly realized that they might want to back down on this.

“God, is your pussy really that great that they’ll go to bat for you like this? Well, I guess a slut like you knows how to please, honestly that’s all omega’s are good for, anyways. Just a quick fuck, nothing more.” She heard the voice speak again, and this time it was louder, since she saw some of the other auditionees’ heads turn. She would have turned to look at who it was, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of the idols across the table.

It was apparent to the others, though not to the y/n nor the person behind her, that not only had the other auditionees’ heard those words, but so had a member of the group. Before anyone could process the idol’s actions, Jongho had launched himself across the room and tackled whoever had been sitting behind her, the two landing on the floor with a thump. This stopped any fighting in its tracks.

“You want to say that again?” Jongho growled as he pinned the other person to the floor, teeth bared.

“Y-You heard me.” They said, a stutter appearing as they tried to mask any fear of the beta on top of them.

“I would bet that you’re also the person who leaked those pictures to Dispatch. Since you’re so intent on being jealous that you weren’t picked.” The maknae idol deduced.

“And if I did? What are you going to do about it?” They taunted him, somehow overcoming their fear.

“Jongho, get off of him. Now.” Hongjoong ordered, moving over to where the maknae was.

“No.”

“Jongho, now.”

“He was telling lies to y/n. Telling her that she and omegas were only good for a quick fuck, and that we were only fighting for her because she was good in bed. His words were more vulgar, and I won’t repeat them.” Jongho said, never looking away from the target of his rage.

“It’s not a lie. Omegas are only good for fucking, that’s it. That’s their purpose in life, is to be good little broodmares for betas and alphas. Besides, what talent does she have, she’s barely done anything while we’ve been here, and has only monopolized the attention of all of you.” They spat out, glaring over at y/n before their view of her was replaced with Mingi.

Hongjoong turned to look at the staff and managers with a murderous look on his face. They really wanted someone like this, to become part of Ateez? “You wanted a disgusting piece of shit like this, to become a member of Ateez? Someone who will look down on his fellow members because of their subgender? You were going to let someone like this interact with Atiny, and based on his words, probably abuse power as an idol to take advantage of them?” He raged, his voice becoming increasingly louder until he was shouting at them.

The staff tried to stammer out excuses, claiming they knew nothing of the beta’s opinions. It was clear to everyone that none of the idols believed the words coming out of their managers’ mouths, though to his credit, their main manager didn’t say anything, just sat down and stayed quiet while the others talked out of their asses. In return for his silence, he received disappointed looks from the eight idols, half of whom were still filled with rage against the beta and the others.

Wooyoung rushed over to y/n’s side once the shock and anger of the situation was pushed aside in favor of concern for his omega baby. Placing his hands on her shoulders to turn her to face him, as she still spaced out.

“Baby omega, c’mon come look at me,” he pleaded. “It’s okay, so come back to me, to us.”

His words, plus his scent of flowers and cinnamon turning slightly burnt as he worried, brought y/n back to the present. She looked over at the other omega, whose face was filled with worry.

“Wooyoung-ssi?” She asked, still a bit dazed from her intense focus on what was now just an empty spot in the room.

“Hi baby omega, how are you feeling?” He asked her, as the others looked over at the two of them.

“God, I knew it from the moment that the hag of an omega dragged you away, that you were an attention whore.” The beta cut in, making everyone’s heads’ snap to him.

Y/n’s face dropped as she realized who exactly said that, but she couldn’t get a word in before the sound of a slap rang out. Mingi had stepped forward, kneeling down and slapping the beta’s cheek so hard that a bruise had already started to form.

“Aaron, why are you like this? You were so nice to me.” Y/n asked, confused.

“Because you’ve done nothing to deserve anything you’ve gotten here. I’ve worked my ass off for years, and I’ve been passed over in favor of omegas. Because of your kind, I can’t get anything, omegas are always the ones chosen for things, never betas. I deserve this. I’m way more talented than you are, and I’m not a fucking whore who sleeps her way into the team. I don’t monopolize Ateez’s attention, not like you have. You got private sessions with San and Yunho, I saw it. And fuck it was amazing to see how much hate you’re still getting for it. You should just go back home, y’know, and be the little omega housewife, because that’s all you’re good for.” Aaron goes off on a rant, inadvertently revealing that he was the one that leaked the photos to Dispatch.

The anger in the room was palpable, and y/n wasn’t the only one to shrink in on herself because of it. Wooyoung held her tighter, his arms snaking around her to pull her closer, as the two of them watched the others crowd around the three on the floor, as they noticed that the staff ushered the other auditionees out of the conference room.

“So, you’re the one who put my members’ careers at risk, and put them in the middle of a scandal? You’re the one who made my members worried and stressed because you’re jealous that another person, that wasn’t you, caught our eye? Y’know, it's fitting that it’s you. You look as pathetic as you actually are. Only someone who knows they’re inadequate stoops so low as to bring others down to their level. You’re passed over in favor of omegas, because they’re obviously better than you. And y/n is one of those omegas.” Hongjoong said, his words filled with condescension towards Aaron. “Say goodbye to any chance of making it in the industry, here or back home. Word gets around about bad people.” The captain finished.

Seonghwa turned to the staff that remained in the room. “If you don’t get security here within the next few minutes, and make sure he’s escorted back to his room so he can pack up and then driven to the airport to fly back to whatever dump he’s from, we will take it into our hands. I don’t think you want the media, or Atiny, knowing that you were going to let someone who tried to ruin two members of Ateez, into the group. Nor will the police be happy if they find out that they were deceived, if any of you knew about what he had done, to not only San and Yunho, but to an innocent person in all of this.”

Yeosang, normally not one to be overly touchy feely when things are stressful, moved over to Wooyoung and y/n, in need of comfort from his omega friend. Wooyoung immediately noticed and pulled the alpha close, the now trio taking comfort in one another. The two men silently communicated, both hoping that management would fail in the task given to them, so that the stain on the floor would be dragged out by police instead. They were disappointed when security rushed into the room, and once Jongho had pulled away from the beta, the team of security guards led the disgraced auditionee out of the conference room, and away from the lives of the now nine members of Ateez.

Hongjoong was quick to collect the rest of the group, including y/n, and bid goodbye to the staff members, not sparing them another glace as he led his group out into the hallway. Y/n was pushed into the middle of their protective circle, with Seonghwa and Wooyoung on either side, and Mingi behind the trio to bring up the rear as the others surrounded the trio of omegas. The group of nine were led to the practice room, as it was the easiest and quickest place to regroup.

Once everyone was settled in the room, most sprawled out on the floor, including y/n whose head was laid in Yeosang’s lap as the man ran his hands through her hair, silence settled over the group as everyone processed what had just occurred. That silence lasted until the youngest omega shot up, almost hitting Yeosang’s chin, as she realized exactly what the group had been fighting for in the first place.

“Wait. You want me to be the ninth member of Ateez?!” She shouted out, in complete shock.

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[zaynescitizen]

How do you think what could be the kinks of LnDS boys? 😏😏😏

I had fun writing that but oh my god I was STRUGGLING with Xavier, and I had to hold myself back with Sylus because in my eyes he is an absolute whore🎀. For Rafayel and Xavier I think it ended up being quite poorly written but I genuinely couldn't think of anything more than that, so I do apologise.

-Issa

(English is not my first language so there is a high chance of grammar mistakes. If you come across any please point them out and any and all constructive criticism is welcomed)

content warning: NSFW, different kinks and slight descriptions of them (I never know how to write the CW </3 let me know if I should add any specific ones)

Word count: 671

Characters: Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier

Lads and kinks:

In general:

-Starting off I don't feel like any of them have those extreme kinks except maybe Stylus but that is speculating purely off of his card (no defense zone, unfortunately, that is one of two cards 5 star I have of him). I don't think I can genuinely place them from most to least kinky since all of them are on about the same level of it, some a bit more some bit less but overall on the same frequency

Zayne:

-Breast worship, and I will die on this hill. He loves your chest. Coming home after a long day of surgeries he wants nothing more than to play with your breasts or sleep on them. The amount of hickeys he leaves there is abnormal.

-Praise, he loves both giving and receiving paise. Burying his face in your neck while ramming into you, telling you how well you're taking him and how good it feels

-I don't know if this would count as a kink but seeing you ride him makes him near feral, his hands resting on your hips with a tight grip, helping you move over his length.

-Spanking, he loves spanking you as a form of punishment, though he doesn't go overboard and makes sure you are fine with it and are doing alright.

Sylus:

-Accidental stimulation, except it's not accidental and he loves riding you up during auctions he finds boring or when it's least necessary. Seeing you squirm and try to calm down brings him joy and entertainment.

-Sensory deprivation, he loves tying you up and blindfolding you, giving him great ego boost since he takes it as a sign of trust, and the way you react to every touch and kiss makes him lose his mind

-Breathplay, same as the previous, he takes it as a sign of trust and the visual gets him off. Squeezing your throat just enough to make it hard to breathe, but not doing any actual damage

-Begging, another ego boost. The fact that he makes you feel so good that you are begging for him is a dream come true

-Spanking, if you were being bratty he will gladly put you in your place, whether with the palm of his hand or a riding crop

Rafayel:

-This man is a brat and you can't deny it no matter how hard you try.

-Begging, he begs you so sweetly while moving in and out of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses and giving lovebites while trying not to lose it completely

-Bondage, either tying you up or being tied up himself. He loves it.

-Lingerie, he loves seeing you in such pretty yet revealing sad excuses of clothes. He doesn't know whether to take you right then and there or to draw you.

-Temperature play, his evol is fire, he will use that to his advantage and warm you up in all the right place, though for cooling down he will have to use ice cubes

Xavier:

-I think Xavier is the least kinky of them all. After being alive for so long I think he does enjoy more casual vanilla settings, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy something more from time to time

-I genuinely can't think of a single kink for this man, which is disappointing. He has them, but I can't pinpoint which ones.

-One I can definitely see him in is restriction/bondage, holding your arms pinned up against the bed or behind your back while rutting into you like a dog in heat

-Again, not sure if this counts as a kink but he loves giving you oral. He could do it all day, every day, anywhere, everywhere, on every surface, in every position… you get the point. He loves it.

-Cockwarming, sometimes he just wants be be close to you, inside you, but is simply too tired. Especially after a hard mission. Lying in bed with him, filled up and on the verge of falling asleep in his arms

[okkotsuus]

PAPARAZZI (keigo t.) !

features: keigo takami (hawks)

contents: paparazzi. fluff. angst if you squint like really hard. comfort. established relationship. reader is a normal civilian.

notes: for my lovely pookie @meristryker

keigo has never been a man that was shy to show his affections for you, nearly in any instance. but when he's out on a nice dinner date with you, all gussied up, and a paparazzi manages to slip past the staff and starts filming you two: his heart nearly stops.

it wasn't that he was ashamed of you, far from it, you were his greatest joy. if he could, he would gladly hold you up to the world like how they held simba in the lion king, proclaiming you as the only one that will ever be able to capture his heart. but he's a hero, and heroes make a lot of enemies.

golden eyes instantly flick in your direction as his brows crease in worry, but he doesn't find the fear he was expecting on your face. instead, you're smiling.

just the sight of it soothes his pulse racing in his chest and he's back to earth. "figured this'd happen eventually, eh, hun?" he asks, hand rubbing the back of his neck as that familiar smirk graces his lips, looking to you.

but his eyes are soft, fondness gleaming beneath his facade. his arm drapes over the back of your chair, toothy grin on his lips and he waves to the camera. in an instant, the paparazzi is dragged out by security and the two of you are once more left in peace.

his hand instantly finds yours, fingers entangling with yours as his thumb runs gently along your knuckles. for some reason, he expects you to be angry. maybe because he's angry.

if there was anything that keigo valued in this world it was you, which meant he valued you safety above nearly all.

this was a dangerous world, though. and his one weakness was just about to be broad-cast to the world. as the number two hero and an agent for the hpsc, there were many people that could and would take advantage of that: villain or not.

all his worries dissipate when your hand rests over his cheek, skin so soft and unmarred by the truth of the world. he wants to keep you delicate and fragile, the way he wished that he had gotten to be.

because keigo takami loves you, more than anything.

okkotsuus 24