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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months

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YOU’VE GOT THE CURE (EVERYTHING I NEED) | B. KATSUKI.

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, soft dom!reader, sub!bakaugou, developing relationships, mutual pining and ambiguous relationships, anal play (m!recieving), dry orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 6.7k

✮ a/n ; an anon comission from a beloved mutual im posting. also just dropping in to say hello

✮ synopsis ; katsuki is too fucking young to have erectile dysfunction, damn it.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

The sound of your typing is especially loud in the empty office. It’s a Saturday and neither of you are supposed to be clocked in, but when duty calls - it’s up to the two of you to answer.

“...I’m going to tell you something. If you so much as fucking laugh I will kill you.”

You don’t look up from your screen.

“Well that’s one way to start a sentence. I’ll try not to laugh.”

Katsuki slams his hand on the desk.

“I’m being serious,” He says in a half-yell. You look up from the edge of your laptop unflinchingly with a displeased frown, shaking your head and throwing your hand up half-heartedly.

“Fine, fine - I promise I won’t laugh. Can you stop being all ominous? You sound like Tokoyami.”

“There’s something wrong with me,”

“Well yes,”

“Not like that,” He hisses, taking a deep breath. He leans forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped seriously as he covers his face. “...I think my fucking..thing..is broken.”

There’s a loud noise like a muffled laugh but when Katsuki looks up your expression is completely blank. Your lips are pressed tight, eyes out of focus as you continue to type. Or pretend to. True to your word, you don’t laugh but Katsuki still wants to fucking kill you.

“Oh? What uhm,” You clear your throat, lips trembling as you try to keep yourself together. “What brought you to that conclusion?”

He nearly snaps his pen in half.

“What do you fucking think?!”

“Hey. Calm down. I’m doing my best not to laugh but you are not helping.”

This is the sort of thing Katsuki would normally take to his grave. Not only is it genuinely humiliating, it is the sort of painful personal detail he wouldn’t share with anyone even if he was fucking them. It wouldn’t matter either, that his dick isn’t working - if the other ways he relieved stress were.

He’s got an average sex drive, sometimes lower but a high libido. Getting off is a physical response to a bodily need. Like eating food or taking a nap. It’s just because it’s a physical need, it is noticeable when the need doesn’t get met. He is painfully aware of it. It’s been weeks and he thinks he’s starting to lose his mind. Worse? He’s exhausted every human option trying to fix the problem himself, save for going to the dick doctor. His testosterone levels are fine, he gets check-ups more regularly than the average person. Given his reputation is at stake, he’d rather not get prescribed anything. He’s bought ginseng and shitty vitamins and medicine he had to ship from overseas. Anything and everything.

Picking up viagra at the ripe age of twenty four would give him psychic damage he won’t recover from, this much Katsuki is sure of. So not that. But everything else, every natural remedy conceived - he’s tried.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose and willfully ignoring the sound of your strained huffing “I can’t fucking get….it up and I don’t know why. I’ve tried everything. Everything. I’m going crazy,”

“You know, it really says something about our relationship that you can confide to me about these kinds of problems. Like I’m so proud of us,”

“Shut up. I’m already miserable enough without wanting to fucking tell you - but the only other option is Shitty Hair and Izuku. I refuse to buy a single goddamn pill for it, and I know if I go to a doctor they’re gonna recommend it and—” He can’t finish the thought. It’s a little too sincere for the kind of conversation you’re having.

You’re a tactless person, so of course - you don’t bother with going along with the mood. Instead you smile like the evil bastard you are.

“And…?”

“You little—” He sighs rubbing his palms over his hands “And because I can trust you to be the least horrible option.”

“So you acknowledge my valiant efforts as your underling and assistant and know you’d be nowhere without me?”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, you’re sweet,” You say, promptly ignoring him “But yeah, I mean - no judgement. I would ask if you’ve had anything major happen but I unfortunately already know that’s not really the case.”

Yes. You, of all people, would know that no major changes have happened in Katsuki’s external life that would make it hard for his dick to function. You spend so much time together. Minus the time he spends working and catching villains in the world - you’re practically glued to his side. You’re in charge of all of his affairs, his schedule, all other personal things. Katsuki is naturally neurotic, but you handle all of it with grace and care. You know everything about him, which is why he is asking you about this problem.

(Does it border on unprofessional? Of course it does. But your relationship to each other degraded that border a long time ago. You’ve already slept in his bed and met all of his friends. And kissed him, but that’s irrelevant for now)

“I need solutions,” Katsuki offers, totally and utterly defeated by the situation at hand. “I’ve done everything. Taken every goddamn herb, done every meditation. Nothing is working. Nothing. I’m going to go fucking crazy.”

“Do you think just sleeping with someone would help? I know you don’t want to ask any of your friends, but maybe an escort? We can do it discreetly.”

“Fuck no. If it were that easy I would’ve done it.”

You pause. Katsuki can see the focus on your face and doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. After an elongated period of silence, you perk up a little. You lock eyes with him and Katsuki briefly regrets bringing the whole conversation up in the first place.

“Hate to ask,” You say, though there’s not enough embarrassment on your face to make anything of that statement. “But uh, have you tried getting off with other things. Like something that isn’t your dick.”

He feels a flush creeping up his skin. “What the fuck are you talking about!”

“This is an important question,” You emphasize, an expression so alarmingly calm Katsuki doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. “Cause if the answer is no, then that’s basically the best solution.”

“How the fuck is that the best solution? Are you insane?”

“Don’t be such a prude, Mr. Dynamight. You’ve bottomed before. It’s not that different. Have you ever tried it on your own?”

“I fucking hate you.” He replies, closing his eyes and frowning. “No I haven’t. Why the hell would I do something so embarrassing.”

“I know you’re super anal retentive - no pun intended there actually, but can you relax a little? It’s a good solution if nothing else is working. Your dick might be broken but an orgasm is an orgasm.”

“Remind me to never ask you for shit again,”

“I’d love that. Just keep me on payroll. Anyway,” You go back to typing. “I think that should be your first move,”

“How the—are you seriously telling me I should go fuck myself to solve my problem?”

You giggle. “Well it sounds bad when you put it like that. But I guess yeah. I can help pick out some sex toys, maybe, do a little research. If you don’t want to do it in your apartment, there might be a love hotel,”

A blush creeps up against the back of his neck. He covers his face with his hands.

“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up. There’s no,” Another wave of humiliation sets in “There’s no way this is how I’m going about this. Like. Fucking none.”

“The only other option is the good old fashioned doctors appointment, then. Which we can squeeze in over telehealth I think - since you got a check-up pretty recently. Want me to do that instead,”

“Fuck, no. I just,” He groans, feeling the stress make his eye twitch “Fuck.”

There’s a bit of silence and a little typing, like you’ve decided to leave him to his thoughts. Which he doesn’t blame you for, because all things fucking considered - there’s not really any more options. He’s a smart man and even he is fucking stumped. He’s going to have to give into something, eventually. He knows that, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.

As soon as he gets close to giving up, you sit up straighter and give a deep long sigh.

“Hey,” You scratch the side of your face awkwardly. “Do you want me to help you….?”

He stares at you. “With what.”

“With your dick being broken,”

“What?!”

“Don’t yell anymore, you’re giving me a headache,” You express, rubbing your temples. “Look. You need to get off, and you’re probably going to have to use your ass to do it. You don’t want to do it by yourself, and you don’t want to do it with a friend or escort. You’d prefer not going to the doctor's office or taking any pills. I’m offering - I’m not really your friend per se and you trust me enough to ask about it.”

He hates more than anything that you have a point.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Hey. If you want your dick to stay broken for a while until you figure it out, do you. I’m just saying. Offering solutions is what you pay me for,”

He pulls back a little.

“...Are you fine with that?”

“Oh banging you? Is that what you’re worried about?” He winces at the direct and crass way you speak. “I like you plenty and you’ve got a pretty face. I’m down if you are,”

“I can’t believe I’m considering this.”

“Really? I totally can,” You snicker, and he really, really considers firing you. “It’s not the first time we’ve crossed boundaries with each other. Just consider it, okay? Before you actually blow a fuse.”

He leans back in his chair and groans.

“Fuck. Yeah, whatever.”

It’s another week before Katsuki takes you up on your offer.

Miraculous it took that long, given the amount he suffered stubbornly trying to fix the problem on his own. The lengths he went too are too embarrassing to even disclose or recount but it very quickly became clear that this was not an issue that was going to magically disappear - no matter how hard he tried.

Against his better judgment and after a long, cold shower trying to talk himself out of reality - Katsuki sent you a one line text.

Fine. Come Saturday.

The only thing he could say without dying of complete fucking shame. He’s grateful that’s the time you decided to have some tact.

(Not a lot, since the text back you sent was a peach emoji and a thumbs up. But whatever, he’ll take what he can get.)

It’s Saturday now, and he’s clean. All of him. He’s clean, and just wearing his boxers - sitting on his couch. You’ll be here very soon, and he can’t believe he’s saying this, but he’s nervous.

You did mention you were fine with it. He believes that because there’s been long standing tension between you two for god knows how long he’s not entirely blind too. You sleep at his place sometimes and spend all day with him, and then there was that one time you two kissed (very sober) during New Years. You don’t bring it up because you know he can’t deal with it. Yet he’s comforted by the fact you at least want it (because you’ve said so), and that you’re willing to do this despite the ambiguity in your relationship.

He knows that is inevitably going to come up today. But he really wants to fucking cum. And if it’s with you, then it’s fine. If his head was a little clearer, he would probably reject this whole thing based on his own emotional disparity. God fucking knows he is not in any place to deal with any of that. His heart barely gets by in the office and now you were going to fuck him.

Is he stupid?

Usually no, but because there’s a soft dick and tight balls where his brain used to be, currently yes. Everything put together, it’s a recipe for disaster. He considers telling you to fuck off and forget all this happens.

But then he thinks about the prospect of your hands and your voice and it’s enough to at least get his heart pumping, though his dick still refuses to cooperate.

More than anything, he does trust you. Shitty, smug little fucker you can be sometimes - there’s not a single person who goes out of their way for him. More than just your job, sometimes it feels like every little thing you do is for his sake. Everything you don’t ask of him, every secret you keep. You push him where he needs to go and encourage him to take risks in his career without imposing on him.

He blushes again, laying on his couch. He was nervous before but it’s not any better. Maybe he’s not so much of a dumbass as he is a total fucking masochistic. Is the level of overthinking the shit Izuku goes through? No wonder he’s like that all the time.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears the doorbell ring.

He answers the door shirtless and finds you on the other side. You have a cardboard box and the most nonchalant expression he’s ever seen. Normally it would annoy him, but right now he’s kind of comforted by it. You look at him with a flat smile.

“Hey sexy,” You say with no intonation. “Can I come in?”

He gives you a look of disdain. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again. But come in,”

You laugh quietly as he steps aside. You don’t have much with you other than the ominous box and your bag.

“You look like you’ve showered,” You say, taking your shoes off and putting on the house slippers he keeps for you. You don’t even look at him as you go towards his bedroom upstairs. He follows you with mild (faux) annoyance.“What a shame.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I wanted to get a little romantical and help you clean up but you’ve taken that from me. I’m a little hurt.”

“You’re such a dumbass. As if I’d let you do that,”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m gonna be playing in your ass today anyway.”

“Not the same thing.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” You say with a wave of your hands. When you finally get upstairs, you look over your shoulder. Katsuki gets the message quickly enough, helping you with the door. You give him a little smile and let yourself in, dropping the box on the edge of his king sized mattress.

He stands in the doorway for a short while, glancing at you before coming in. You put your bag somewhere on the floor before getting back to the box you’ve brought over. He can guess what’s in it, but he stands with you to open it anyways.

Predictably, the thing is full of sex toys. The first question he wants to ask is how much you spent on all of it, but he bites his tongue.

You look at him and do a little jazz hands gesture. “Tah-dah.”

He gives you a displeased look, but you’re well used to this sort of thing from him. There isn’t actually a whole lot in the box. The theatrics of you bring it upstairs were more likely just you fucking with him for the sake of the bit. He frowns. Typical.

You do have some new things in the box. A few expensive look gadgets, like a pair of quirk canceling handcuffs (decorated with leopard print fur) and something that looks like it goes around his neck. The sex toys that are in there are noticeably high quality. You definitely used his dime to pay for this.

“Handcuffs? Seriously?”

“You’re too much of a control freak and I like not having my hands blown to bits,” You say, shaking your head. “We should establish some ground rules and stuff now.”

“Haah? The fuck are you gonna do that we need rules.”

“I’m not just gonna jump scare you with dominating you. But that is what I’m doing. What we’re doing.” You give him a more serious look, that makes him feel more shy than he cares to admit. “You get what I’m saying? You have to trust me a little, okay?”

He makes a petulant face at you. “I already trust you dipshit,”

“This and that are different,” You say, shaking your head. He refrains from disagreeing with you a second time. They’re really not, but he has no desire to explain that. “I’m gonna touch you and be a little strict. Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t care.”

“That’s not an answer,”

He grits. “I want to cum. And I…trust you or whatever. I already agreed to this. If it’s pissing me off, I’ll just kick you offa me. Anyway, ‘s fine.”

“If you kick me I’m suing you for battery. We can have a safeword. I’m not going to duct tape your mouth and I’m gonna talk you through most of it - but just incase.” You say. He pauses, taken aback by how… delicately you’re treating him. He doesn’t know if he should be pissed about it or not. “Any word is fine. We can use the stoplight system too if you want.”

“Stoplight?”

“Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.”

“That’s fine. Easy to remember.”

“Okay,” You nod to yourself, tucking the promise to memory before looking at him more seriously. “Are you okay with intimacy?”

He stares at you.

“The fuck…?”

“Kissing and hand-holding and all that other stuff.”

“Is it necessary?”

“Strictly speaking, no,” You look at him knowingly this time. He’s taken aback, but you’re always like this. You look through him, not at him. “Are you okay with it?”

The implication is there. Do you want it? is the question that goes unasked. Too direct for his tastes. He feels heat spread through his body, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah…’m fine with it.”

Your smile is more genuine this time around. He turns away from you a little.

“Okay. That’s everything out of the way. I’m gonna cuff your arms,” You say. It all feels a little sudden. He figures you’d mean business, but still - he’s not all that prepared. He’s had a week to mentally prepared but that feels like nothing compared to now. There’s an authority to the way you talk now he isn’t sure he’s going to get used too. “Repeat your safewords to me when you turn around.”

He frowns but listens. He puts his hands together in front of him, waiting for you to cuff him, shyness making him hot.

“Uh. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.”

“Good boy,” You say so smoothly it almost rolls off of him. The cuffs go around his wrists, and Katsuki can feel the familiar sensation of losing his quirk. Now it’s just the both of you. “I’m expecting a little pushback, but generally - you’re to listen to me. Clear?”

“God, fuck - yeah clear,” Katsuki says, feeling ticklish all of a sudden. “All this shitty foreplay is making me feel weird.”

You wrap your arm around his midriff in a sudden movement, making him twitch. He can feel your cheek pressed against his chest as your hands hover over his waistband. He takes in a sharp inhale.

“It’s good that you’re feeling anything.” You say, breath just barely above a whisper. “Gonna take this off,”

He just nods, silently. It’s still on soft, but something is happening in his gut at least. You help him take his boxers down. You’ve probably seen him naked before, more than once. You two being attached at the hip was no joke. This time there’s this lingering anticipation that’s there, and that changes things.

He steps out of his boxers. He’s naked and you’re clothed and his head feels like it’s spinning. Your hand guides him to the edge of the bed. He sits and watches you, but you don’t undress.

The first kiss (second kiss) that you exchange with Katsuki is pleasant. You bend down to do it. It’s a chaste way to meet his lips, weirdly soothing while his stomach is starting to tie in knots. It’s a little surprising how..comfortable it is. Your mouth is soft, your lips taste a little like chapstick and you smell nice. You pull away to kiss the corner of his mouth, trailing down his jaw.

Your thumbs draw over the shell of his ear, rubbing the lobe tender. You’re so different. The contrast in your normal personality is a little too much for him to reconcile with easily, but you brush over these things well enough. He looks away when you meet his eyes.

“Do you wanna lay down or kneel?”

His throat is tight. “...Don’t care.”

You laugh a little to yourself, another kiss. “Lay down then. It’d probably be easier if you put your ass up but knowing you, I doubt it.”

He blushes, annoyed that he’s so obviously predictable to you.

The sheets are soft where he lays. You don’t join him on the bed at first. He just waits there cuffed as you shuffle around for things - lubes and toys and pillows. When you do return to him, you pat his side and slide a pillow underneath his back. He quickly regrets laying down, because god the position is fucking exposing.

You get between his legs and settle there comfortably. A hand rests on his bare thigh, rubbing your thumb into smooth, muscled skin. His breath is hitched. You lean down and kiss his hip. Still no dice on the erection, but you don’t seem discouraged.

You flip the lube open and let it pour onto your fingertips. It’s pink lube. This is mildly irritating, but saying anything will feed into your satisfaction so Katsuki bites his tongue. He watches it as you warm it in your hands, patting his leg with your clean hand.

“Legs up,” You instruct. “And deep breath. Try not to tense.”

“Just goin’ for it, huh?”

You don’t reply to that, but you do smile.

It’s not his first rodeo. His second or third, but certainly not his first - but he’s never had it done for a reason like this. There was an exchange prior, that someone was putting something in him for their pleasure too. This isn’t for that. This is just for him, with your skilled hands and your oddly gentle tendencies that he doesn’t see any other time. That proves to be too much, makes his belly feel honeyed with lust.

The warm, thick sensation of lubed fingers presses against the tight rim of muscle. He breathes and unclenches. Tries not to think too hard about anything. He’s desperate, too desperate. At this point, it’s hard to be prideful. Your hands are noticeably daintier than the ones he’s had in him prior. It’s…weirdly nice. Makes the process easier somehow. He’s reminded that you’re just you, and that makes him more nervous.

“That’s it, baby,” You hum, so soft it’s startling. The way the blood starts to rush in that familiar way nearly makes him sick. Oh, fuck. No way. “Oh?”

No way. No fucking way. No way that’s what does him in.

You pause. He takes in a deep breath, ready to say anything to defend himself. Humiliation spreads through his whole body. He can feel how hard he’s starting to burn, like the blood in his body is struggling to keep up with the desire and pump of his heart. His chest and face start to flush a familiar rose as he grits his teeth and closes his eyes.

Weeks. Weeks and weeks of trying to figure this out. And it was you calling him baby, of all things, to get him at half-mast.

He’s too afraid to open his eyes, but forces himself too. He’s expecting a smug laugh or sarcastic jab but instead you just look surprised. You stare at him, unblinking. He’s so startled he stares back.

“Do you wanna…keep going?”

He gets hard. Fuck.

“S-shit,” He says, wishing he could cover his face with his hands properly. “Yeah,”

He can’t read your expression at all. Annoying. You don’t brush over it though - but you don’t force him to acknowledge it either. Maybe you’re just focused on the fact he finally has something to work with and don’t want to ruin it by making him talk about his feelings.

“Baby,” You say again, smooth and deliberate. There’s that twitch again, something pooling in his gut. He starts to feel nervous. You’re doing the same as before, stretching him and teasing the rim - getting him ready for something else. “You like bein’ my baby, Katsuki?”

He opens his mouth, only to close it again. He tries to choke some word about, telling you go fuck yourself - but he always ends up looking at your face. Your lashes on your cheek. Soft touches and even softer words. He stops knowing what he wants at some point.

“Ugh,” His voice grows thicker. “Don’t ask me that,”

(If he were more apt at honesty, he could admit to you that he just wants you. In whatever way. Sometimes you get like this, when you’re not screwing around - and you’re so good to him that it hurts. He likes your sarcasm and dryness.

But he likes too when you’re this sweet on him too - even if that feels shameful as fuck. That feels like it’s crossing so many more lines that you’re usual self. He knows that better than anyone. It is crossing more lines than usual.

He can’t help but think about it anyway.)

You laugh a little. His eyes go lidded as you continue to work him open. It’s a slow process. You circle his hole with your thumb each time before pushing in. You get one finger in without effort. The second one takes a little more. Another heaved breath and unclenching of his muscles.

He hasn’t felt the sensation of something entering him in so long. He can’t remember when the last time was. He’s antsy as you pump your fingers in and out, stretching him slowly. You find the bottle with your free hand, flicking it open with your teeth and pouring lube onto him directly before you keep going.

“That feel okay?” You mumbles

“Y-yeah. Feels fine,” He huffs, closing his eyes “Feels…good,”

“It’ll feel better soon. Just need to,” You curve the two fingers inside of him up. They search and search and search until—

There. Shit, there.

“Oh, shit,” He gasps, arching himself up as you rub it. You smile at him, pleased. “Fuck,”

You whistle. Katsuki can feel his cock throb properly now, up at full attention. You don’t touch him though. Your other hand grips his thigh for support as you focus your wrist and energy on curling your fingers against his prostate. His stomach flutters, waist tightening.

He’s been fucked before, damn it, but this is different. This is controlled and concentrated. Your fingers are perfect in their motion, pinpoint pleasure making him break out into a feverishness. You’re annoyingly good at this. His whole nervous system feels like it’s being unraveled so slowly. Pulled apart like the slices of a fruit, something for you to pick off and eat.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton, tongue too big for his mouth. Thoughts clouded and inhibition lowered. Real pleasure. He hasn’t felt that in what has to be more than a month now. It’s overwhelming. He’s sensitive and muddy and acting stupidly - he’s well aware. It’s an out of body experience being so unwound in general but this after everything is overstimulating.

God it feels good. How can anything feel this fucking good?

His breathing is erratic, heart pumping trying to keep up with it. Euphoric little pricks start at his abdomen and shoot off through his whole body. Like the splintering ends of a falling star.

He’s never had any orgasm that feels like it needs every muscle in his body to pump through him. It starts in his center and spreads out, melts him slowly. Usually the feeling of needing to cum is passing - just building pleasure until the orgasm hits and the high relaxes. His cock is leaking now with every little press along his insides. Little white dribbles of pre-cum sliding down his shift all the way down to his ass. He doesn’t want to think about how he looks, so he focuses on how it feels.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” His voice almost gives. “Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t slow down.”

“You can cum if you want to, Katsuki,” As if to drive the point home by massaging his inner thigh, neglecting his cock “Guess you’re pretty sensitive inside, hm? Gonna make you cum like a girl,”

His blush deepens..

“Haah, fuck - fuck I’m not sensitive. It’s just, hng. Been a while,”

“Don’t be a liar or I won’t let you cum,” You tease.

His eyes shoot wide, brows touching his hairline. “Fuck, d-don’t you dare. .”

You have the nerve to laugh at him. All things considered, maybe you’ve earned. “Just teasing. I’m awful but not that awful. “

“You’re not awful, fuck - just really,” He throws his head back against the sheets. “Need to cum, really need to—”

“Gonna cum without even touching your cock,” You say, half-amused. He shudders when the realization dawns on him.“You’re so sweet.”

He’s drooling. The strength goes out in his jaw as the feeling just builds and builds and builds. It goes on like it’ll never topple.

When it does, it doesn’t feel so much like a rope unsnapping as much as it feels like everything is being pulled from under him. Like the loss of gravity. His abdomen goes tight, the anticipation of it making it impossible to breathe. So close, so close, so close. His brain feels shut off, mindlessly humping along air to capitalize on everything. You’re encouraging only eggs him on further. He lets out a garbled little noise, choking. His voice rasps as electricity flows through him.

And he cums, there’s an orgasm - but nothing comes out. He cums so hard but his balls still feel so tight and full. It feels good but he’s still so fucking hard. It snaps him awake as his eyes open, and you’re staring at his cock a little awestruck.

“Oh, poor baby,” You say - not exactly mocking him but not exactly being kind either. Katsuki stares at you lost and hazy. “A dry orgasm after all of that. That’s just cruel.

He heaves. “What the….how am I supposed to?”

His dick aches. Fuck he almost wants to cry.

Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft in a sudden movement, making him hiss. He almost cusses you out. Sensitive, too sensitive. You put your thumb over the tip of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from it as you. You look mesmerized as it dribbles against your thumb

A long pause.

“Hey,” Your expression is serious. “Do you wanna fuck me?”

“What?”

“I’m really turned on right now, shit. I was planning on just helping you but, you didn’t cum yet and I’m...,” You’re looking at him so directly. His heart pounds. “You can say no,”

Of course he wants to fuck you. That’s what he wants to say. He doesn’t know where he’d find the fucking gall.

“....’s sensitive,” He says instead, flushing with embarrassment. You brighten up. “Just… give me a minute,”

“I will but first,” You rummage through your items and pull out a plug. His eyes widen. “It’ll feel good, I promise.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t reject you. You have some kind of miracle in you - so he feels more inclined to just give in to whatever you say. You look eager to do it. He doesn’t know how he feels about that.

It’s easy enough to put the plug in when he’s already all soft. He’s still sensitive and swollen. He hisses as the cool metal of the plug slides into softened hole, before settling. You give him a little tap on his which he glares at you for. Your only response is laughter.

There’s nothing to talk about while Katsuki watches you undress. You don’t take it all off - just your bottoms. It’s not that he has nothing on his mind. Just that… seeing you like that isn’t making him any less hard. He just… looks at you. Dumbly. You slide your shorts off in one go and your underwear along with it, and you’re all on display.

It’s pretty. Your pussy is really pretty. A horrifyingly embarrassing thing for him to think but it’s true. There’s a fine layer of hair on your mound that he likes. You’re dripping wet like you said you were, and that doesn’t make the situation any easier. You give him a little smug grin as you settle over his lap. He stares at you completely absent-minded, flushed.

“Like what you see?” You tease. He’s too struck to lie to you.

“Yeah,” He rasps. He’s out of his mind right now. He blames it on his dick. “I wish I could take these fuckin’ cuffs off.”

You look at him a little surprised. “You don’t like being cuffed and restrained?”

His ears feel hot, heat prickling up his skin. “Didn’t say that just,” He groans even trying to say it. “...Wanna touch you,”

He trails off. You use your hand to turn his face back to you, cupping his jaw as you bend forward to kiss him. He stares at you wide-eyed, making a noise of surprise. This kiss is different from all the others. Deeper, with more feeling. He gets into it, lifting his head to kiss you back.

When you pull away, you’re all fluttered lashes and adoration.

“After I drain your dick dry,” You say with a confidence that astounds him. “I’ll take them off and let you fuck me proper. But you have to tell me you want that, first. Do you wanna fuck me, baby?”

“Shit. Y-yeah,” He nods, feeling absolutely swept up in your pace.

“Say it.”

“I wanna fuck you, dammit,” He stutters through the last of his sentence. “Don’t make me beg, my dick is going to blow off if you keep torturing me.”

You laugh good naturedly and he feels a little proud that he made you laugh. The thought that he’s beyond whipped wipes the smile off his face completely, but whatever.

You pull back, sitting up as you examine his cock. You hold it up to you, weighing your options.

“I’m too horny to open myself up. I’m just gonna sit on it, ‘kay? Don’t buck your hips up,”

He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his mouth. The warm, wet heat of your cunt is immediately overstimulating. He groans so gutterally it startles him. Like it’s punched out of him. This is the only pressure his hard cock has gotten in months and it’s making him feel like he’s on fire.

You don’t give him a chance to cover. You lean over him as you maneuver his cock to your entrance with all disregard for his sanity. You hiss as the tip finds the spot. Fuck you’re wet. Your insides are so soft, so sticky - but you’re still so damn tight.

As you promised you go slowly. It doesn’t help him losing his mind. Worsened by the fact he can see you on top of him, all bated breaths and shaky moans. There must be a dull pain, but you only give him a smile as you get the first inch.

“You’re big,” You say breathlessly. His cock twitches to life. “Feels fucking good. Shit, that’s amazing. Haha, I can feel you so deep already.”

“Please stop talking, before I, haah,”

“Don’t cum yet,” You demand, lowering yourself further and further until you’ve bottomed out. Katsuki feels fucking crazy. “Let me get my fill first.”

“Ngh, easier said than fucking done,”

You just laugh. “Try your hardest, Mr. Hero. Show off your endurance, hm?”

He groans as you start to move. You really don’t regard him at all. You lean over him with one hand and use your other to tease and toy with your clit as you ride his cock with reckless abandon. The room is quick to fill with noise - the sound of skin slapping skin, the skin sticking where your hips meet his thighs.

You’re moaning in little broken waves. He’s not going to last if he listens to you anymore.

He’s biting the inside of his cheek trying not to cum, but you don’t make it easy. You’re riding him with so much force, using him. Your pussy is so tight it’s gripping him, sucking him dry. A vice-like grip, sticky and pliant over the hard curve of his cock. Everytime you bounce and throw your ass a little harder onto him, he can feel you. Feel himself and how deep he is. His hands tighten into fists where they’re cuffed in front of him.

He’s never been… used like this. But he doesn’t hate it the way you disregard him to chase your own pleasure while being so generally mindful of his own. You take and take and take but you make it feel so good.

It’s not helped by the plug in his ass, brushing against his prostate every single time you move. Makes him jolt. Every fiber and nerve in his body is wound as tight as it can possibly go. All of his strength, sanity, and focus he has left in him is trying not to cum, not to buck his hips up and rut into you like a stupid animal no matter how much he wants too.

He can feel you start to cum before you even tell him. Your walls pulse with need and your movement starts to get slower. The grip you have holding you up weakens slightly.

“Gonna cum. Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” You say with a pant. You open your eyes and look down on him “Cum with me, okay? Don’t hold it in,”

The words alone trigger a reaction. But with everything else, it’s like Katsuki explodes. Weeks worth of tension in his body, in his muscles, in his everything - burst at the seams. You cum and he follows you nearly in succession. The hard pulsing of your swollen cunt suck around him like a vice and he goes practically limp feeling his dick finally drain.

He cums and he can’t stop cumming. Pumps out so much white hot seed his head starts to cloud. He fucks up into you, sloppy and dumb. Chasing his high as he pours every ounce of his load into your pussy without so much as a modicum of shame. A month of dryness overwritten by the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. He doesn't know how long he stays there, painting your walls with his spend. It just goes on forever, longer than he’s ever experienced.

He has his eyes closed as he goes limp. Fucking hell.

It takes him a while to go soft again. When he finally does and returns to consciousness, he’s still nestled inside you. You give him a smile when his eyes finally open, leaning forward to kiss his hairline.

“Still all there?”

His voice is hoarse like he’s been screaming. “I feel like I fucking died,”

You giggle.

“So… no?”

“Kind of. Barely. What the fuck is up with you.” He says laying his head back, sweat dripping down his back. “Shit.”

“Did you like it?”

He gives you an unimpressed look as you laugh.

“I’m glad.” You say softly. You’re warm. God he’s down bad. “We have a lot to talk about later. You should take a little break for now.”

He nods in agreement to both things before pausing. “For now..?”

“You thought we were done?” You say with a tilted head. He gapes. “I thought you knew I was more ruthless than that.”

He groans.

“You’re insane.”

You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him.

“You love me.”

He lets you kiss him some more and doesn’t bother denying it.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #a.dr #writing tag

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honey-milk-depresso · 3 months

Note

Jason, Tim and Dick with an s/o who’s completely the opposite of them??

Requests open until 1 Feb (GMT 8+)! Please read the rules on my pinned post (provided the navi post link to go to rules). Thank you!🩷

Batboys with an s/o completely opposite of them

Dick Grayson

Dick is a very extroverted, active and optimistic individual while you’re very introverted, lazy (let’s all be real here-) and… well, he calls you a realist (because he doesn’t wanna call you a pessimist-).

The two of you have a rather funny dynamic between the two of you: Dick’s always the one dragging you out because you need “sunlight”.

“Come on, s/o! Let’s take a stroll! Gotta get that vitamin D!”

“Dick… it’s 8pm.”

“…” “You get the point, come on now-”

He’s just concern for your health because he loves you and doesn’t want you to just laze at home all the time, you know? And isn’t it nice to take a stroll with your boyfriend?? Come on now-

Dick’s always the one to cheer you up when you’re grumpy or sad (or both), and you’re always there to ground him back to reality when needed and he appreciates that.

Another thing to note is that he actually has poor communication skills when it comes to the relationship, and always feels like he’s a burden to share his problems. You, on the other hand, aren’t afraid to speak your mind and put a lot of trust in him when it comes to communicating challenges within your relationship with Dick and you encouraging him to put trust in you because he will never burden you because you love him honestly makes him admire you, and also fall in love with you even more.

It’ll take some time, not because he doesn’t trust you, it’s just because there’s that lingering thought of not wishing to burden you and also because old habits die hard but… slowly he’ll get there, and that’ll be the one thing you guys can be similar in.

For now, he loves his potato couch cutie (just stroll with him every once in a while at least-) <3

Jason Todd

Has no idea how he even managed to get you, because you’re everything he’s not.

He’s always so emotional, impulsive and jealous, while you’re so calm, rational and trusting in him even when he knows he’s got so much sin in him that he’s not proud of committing, and knows he can’t be forgiven for them at times.

Yet… you never saw that in him. You’ve always thought he’s someone compassionate, loyal and caring, and you love him even at his worse. He’s never thought of himself like that after you told him so sincerely and gently that he almost broke down and cried. You love him so much as much as he loves you it makes him feel so warm and comforted. He just feels so lucky to have you.

He kinda wishes he’s like you, because he’d always think it’s better to be anyone else but you’d tell him otherwise. Besides, it’s always opposites that attract.

He loves you with every fibre of his being, you’re like a second chance given to him. Well, not that he sees you as a way to feel better but he genuinely believes you’re an angel sent to him. Literally. But seriously, he loves you and he’ll try to be a little bit more calmer than let his anger get the best of him. You always can calm him down anyways.

You always told him that his compassion for you touched you, and that his warmth and love is something you’ve never had before from anyone, you make him feel so special, you know that? <3

Tim Drake

Tim’s… all sorts of things. He’s ambivert, more introvert-leaning, but he’s also poor in time management due to his workaholic nature and rather reserved in temperament.

And you were a lot more responsible and better in time management because you ACTUALLY do set limits for yourself than just doing EVERYTHING in one goal. You weren’t a control-freak like him, rather taking things slowly. Just like him, you’re an ambivert but more extrovert-leaning and you had a tendency of getting lost in your emotions, just being more sensitive than him in general.

Every time you try to drag him to bed, shower, eat, just take care of himself he gets a bit pouty every time you do this but he’s touched. You had to open his eyes to let him see that timetables exist, and open up his heart to let him know it’s okay to take a break. Breaks even. He deserves breaks.

Tim is always there to calm you down. You just get so worried for him every time he goes out for patrol because anything could happen to him in Gotham. He reassured you, kissing your forehead softly while you patch him up with a little bit of tears glossing your eyes and tells you he’s okay. He’s never really had people care for him so much to the point they cry which was why when he got a few minor cuts on his arms and torso, he panicked when he saw you cry so much. He makes a mental note to make sure he doesn’t come home too injured, but at the same time you always tell him he shouldn’t hide his pain from you. You just want him safe.

You two just blend well together, and he always feels like he can come to you when he feels troubled. And you can always go to him for comfort.

Bonus: You dragging Tim by his feet to go to bed while his coffee-drunk ass is sighing in defeat and lets you drag him away but smiled tenderly despite being tired. Sigh, fine. He’ll sleep, just for you. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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biceratops7 · 1 year

Text

Victor nikiforov and empathy:

Following my fifth (?) rewatch I found yet another reason to be completely in love with Yuri on Ice, and that is Victor being a wonderfully accurate and non-demonized example of someone with low empathy. Seriously as someone who’s autistic and can’t relate to the influx of “actually we’re all super in tune to other’s feelings and have the MOST empathy!”, watch these scenes because this is what it’s like.

This line at first seems to be Yakov thinking that Victor is arrogant, but Yakov knows him extremely well. He knows that Victor has a hard time viscerally placing himself in another’s shoes, and that’s a major obstacle as a coach.

Victor has trouble understanding what to do in situations that are highly emotional for Yuuri. Instead of being able to directly consider things through Yuuri’s perspective, we see him rely pretty often on environment cues, behavioral cause and affect, or straightforward commands.

He gets his habit of scolding yuri after a routine from Yakov because that’s what he’s familiar with. It’s not something Yuuri responds to particularly well, but it’s only when Victor pays attention to how others react when Yuuri finishes skating that he changes tactic. Victor sees how the crowd is going wild at the (Japan nationals) and it’s only then it occurs to him that Yuuri’s confidence may be jeopardized if he chooses that moment to criticize his performance. This is something he likely would’ve realized much sooner if he could share Yuuri’s stress easier instead of merely observing that it’s happening.

Then later on in episode 7, we get to the scene that actually inspired this post.

At first Victor approached the situation almost like an experiment, trying out cause and effect to disastrous results. When you have a much lower threshold for being able to experience another’s feelings second hand, it’s difficult not to think of other’s negative emotions simply as problems that need to be solved. Problem: Yuuri won’t perform well because he’s too anxious, he will only be MORE upset if he loses, and Victor has already tried to reduce his anxiety to no avail. Idea for solution: raise the stakes and see if increased pressure can replace his nerves with resolve, causing a good performance. Afterward, Yuuri will be proud of himself and happy again. Execute plan, observe results, adjust accordingly. When comfort doesn’t come naturally, this tends to be kind of the default. From experience it comes from a genuine place of caring even when it backfires (and it actually doesn’t at times), basically trying to actually fix the thing upsetting your loved one instead of play acting feelings you don’t get.

… however Yuuri was COMPLETELY within his rights yelling at Victor because regardless of intent he picked the worst thing on planet earth to say in that exact moment. I mean I’ve had my fair share of “oh crap someone is upset and it’s my responsibility” fails but my fuck-

He’s shown to be pretty shit at comforting Yuri/ detached emotionally from the situation, but he is neither coldly unbothered nor strategically hiding it. It may appear callous to bluntly say “I don’t know how to help you” to a loved one who’s crying, but as someone who’s been there, that’s an insanely vulnerable thing to admit. “I don’t feel your pain, I don’t get it. But I love you, and just because I’m not feeling it myself doesn’t mean I don’t care that you’re hurting.”

When Yuri finally just straight up tells Victor what to do, he is relieved and simply does it. Things are different between them after this episode because Yuuri finds the power to communicate his needs clearly and effectively. Victor doesn’t speak “subtlety” well. Yakov and Yurio both speak their mind to him directly regardless of if it’s polite, Which is quite telling because they’re the two characters he has the longest history with. It shows us the kind of communication style Victor is accustomed to and needs to navigate interpersonal relationships.

I’m not making a statement that Victor is autistic or even disordered per say. I feel his unusual circumstances provide enough explanation, but I really do see that he consistently struggles with empathy in the same way I do. He’s probably the only character I’ve been able to see that aspect of myself in with scenes that aren’t played for jokes.

#yuri on ice #yoi #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #victuri #biceratops #meta #analysis #empathy #low empathy #affective empathy

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yandere-kokeshi · 2 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet Of Yandere John “Captain” Price

Warnings: Pure filth – MINORS DNI!

A/N: Like the last post, Price won! Feel free to participate in the next poll for these guys! <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

— It’s natural for him to care for you afterward, deeming it his second-favorite part. John’s hands are grasping at you, his warm voice praising you as he kisses your cheeks. He lovingly drags his thumb and fingers over your moles, scars, and many marks, before playfully rubbing his beard into your neck, chuckling at your squealing expression. It only lasts a few minutes before he swiftly gets up, the bed creaking from his weight, and looking over at you with a smile.

John effortlessly enjoys sharing non-sexual bath time after a few sessions. He loves starting it, the bath filling up the tub, warming up and bathing with you, dragging the soaked rag around your stiffen areas, such as your shoulders and back. It relaxes him in some way.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

— For himself, he’s most proud of his physique – mostly his shoulders and hands. They’re both rough in many aspects, having prominent veins, and a different variety of scars. Even though they’ve done bad things, he uses them to pleasure you in many ways; digging the knots out of your back, or throwing your legs over his shoulders and making you cum with his hands. It’s useful in many aspects, no?

As for you, it’s a mixture of your hips and ass. Both of them are squeezed so often, that it’s sure he’s obsessed. But he never denies it when asked. They’re constantly being harassed by his hands by grasping, pinching, stroking, kissing, and biting them. Would happily spend all day on and in them if he could. He smirks like a mad man if you’re on the chubbier side, feeling the plump flesh escape between his fingers. It’s like heaven towards him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— Jonathon has a lot of it stored, which means he enjoys doing it in all of your holes. He prefers being inside of you when he cums, but when he can’t, he leaves your others overflowing with his thick cum, including your mouth, and expects you to swallow. His favorite thing to do is to scoop it up, slowly fuck it back into you with his thick fingers to ensure you know his rules.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

— When he knows you two are going to be separated for a long period of time, somehow a pair of your boxers makes it into his pocket as he does the washing.

When he’s in his office, alone, all pent-up from the day, and needs something relieving, he finds your sweet smell the most intoxicating. He can finish in minutes with your scent of you pressed against his nose. And whilst it isn’t as good with him buried between your legs or having you on top of his lap, he enjoys cumming and dampening the fabric; satisfying his need, at least for now.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

— More experienced than he’d like to be. It’s no surprise he’s a proud man who likes to take his time meeting someone – which means night stands are off the table. In the past, John has had a few partners, men and women, nor is he afraid of saying it when questioned. Which means he knows a handful of tricks up his sleeves.

So, when it comes down to you, he takes time with you. He loves getting to know your body, what makes you squirm, zip up, or make you the loudest. He’s a fast learner, and once he gets the hang of things, he gets the hang of it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

— He prefers the good ol’ missionary and table-top. Jonathan enjoys seeing your face, watching how your nose scrunches in pleasure or the loud shrieks you give out. However, he really doesn’t mind other positions too; it just depends on the mood, pace, and place.

However, having sex at his office and on his desk? Definitely makes him wild.

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

— John isn’t all serious, but he’s certainly not telling jokes in bed either. He likes hearing your pleasure giggles, or gentle smiles whilst being intimate. He can’t help but smile in response, but undoubtedly zips you up, making your toes curl when he hits that sweet spot early.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

— John is hairy, deemed a ‘chunky bear’. He has dark-brown curls that are obnoxiously long, as well having a hairy chest and stomach that could be said, ‘out of control’. However, with how much care he takes with his mutton chops, he keeps everything downstairs equal; not too long nor too short, just the right length for you.

As for you, he couldn’t care less. If you decide to shave, he’ll enjoy the smooth skin and suggest things on how not to cut yourself. And if you don’t? He’ll enjoy it just as much and make sure to have you screaming, and your eyes rolled by the end of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

— It depends on the context, but he’s always a natural gentleman with a capitalized G. Always paying you extra attention during foreplay, and not rushing through. Being visibly romantic for special occasions like holidays, anniversaries, or birthday’s. He loves pampering you every time he can, words and soft touches included; slower, sensual moments, pressing his forehead to yours part way through the session. Holding you tight during sex, and squishes your hips as he cums, keeping the closeness into his aftercare.

But, if he’s been away from you – it’s rough, desperate, and too possessive to the point you can’t even leave the bedroom after cumming a few times. His arms are gluing you to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

— He rather ignores his needs, as much as he’d rather deny it. He doesn’t use porn to satisfy himself; rather, restraining his needs till he can see you. Which, funnily enough, makes him more desperate as he tries to keep his obvious erection down as he works in his office. But, it only resorts to nagging him more, causing him to be frustrated and snappy – but, he can always rely on you, his beloved darling, right? A phone call won’t hurt.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks — named 4)

Breeding: Regardless of your gender, he loves filling you up where it overflows. But it’s more in a possessive strike, wanting you to be tied to him forever. Regardless, it feels filthy, filling, and extremely warm to stay in. And John enjoys every part of it like a nasty man he is.

Cockwarming: After a hard day, whether at work or simply socializing when he doesn’t want to, he enjoys spending the rest of the few hours balls deep in you. It doesn’t lead to sex all the time. He enjoys feeling your warmth, your own head buried in his neck to muffle the pleasured sounds, and your body soon-quivering makes his pride swarm inside.

Hair pulling: He mostly likes it on him. Jonathan enjoys feeling your fingers dig through his locks, stump nails scratching at his scalp before yanking his hair in pleasure. To him, it shows he’s doing a damn good job. But he also likes the spike of slight pain.

Teasing: It sides with edging. John adores making you beg for him, lingering touches that disappear too fast or too slow. A kiss that’s too addicting and you need more. Yet, he chuckles and makes you work for it.

L = Location (favorite places to have intercourse)

— He prefers somewhere private, an atmosphere that’s comfortable and familiar. He likes it behind closed doors, taking his beloved with respect. So naturally, the bedroom and the house are his go-to; the kitchen being his second-favorite.

However, he really enjoys doing it in his quarters, in his office, and in his chair.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

— It’s two things: you and his sensitive nipples. He gets turned on easily, the way your face lights up when you see him, how you react in such a natural, obedient way that has his cock tightening in his boxers. But, his nipples are just as reactive. Even a slight glide over his teats has John have an aching issue that needs to be solved now.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

— Anything involving physically harming you, degradation, or blood. He’s also hesitant to bring his own work to bed, the word Captain, specifically. He’s fine with a little breath play, or small spanking, but anything beyond, ‘the beyond’, is an immediate no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

— Likes them both equally; perfect balance. They both make him happy.

As for you, John is more appealing to giving you oral than the reverse. He could spend hours between your legs, holding your hips down and taking his time on making you cum. Or bringing you to the edge, again and again, but denying you when you’ve been bad. His favorite way to reward you is to bend you over the table or push your chest to the bed, perfectly presenting your ass to him. His fingers spread you open, and his tongue will go everywhere.

For him, he adores you sucking his cock. He’d never deny an offer when given the chance. John likes the way your lips look around him, watching you take him whole. Feeling your tongue against his length. Fucking your face when he’s near his own orgasm, grinding and bucking his hips in desperation when you decide to tease him. It makes him rowdy and demanding.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

— It varies, depending on both of your moods and the time when he comes home. But one thing is that it’s never one pace. It either starts with him being incredibly hot, heavy, and rough; giving you many hickeys over your body and being a sly man for edging then slowing down over time. The deep, hard strokes and thrusts that leave you breathless and responding in moans.

Or being really slow and sensual, savoring every moment that he touches you and builds up to a heavy pace. His hands finding your hips, grinding his pelvic bone against yours and chuckling at your gasped state. His balls slapping against your body as he huffs at the 2nd round.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

— Not a fan. He prefers the real deal, wanting to feel and touch you before making you cum a few times; practically savoring you. But, you will never catch him denying a chance to fuck you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

— He’s open to whatever idea you want to express. As long as they don’t go along his ‘no’s’, he’s all going for it.

As for risks, they’re a big part of his life. However, getting caught doing anything sexual, especially by one of his trusted men or god forbid Laswell, could ruin his career and let alone his mental state. Though, he does think – maybe even could persuade you – into being forced to be quiet, especially in an area where you wouldn’t necessarily want to be in, is kind of arousing. The adrenaline, the completely unaware people around the base, your attempts to remain quiet makes his pleasure spike. He would love to try it, wouldn’t you like too?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

— Whilst he may not be the same 20-year-old he once was, he can still last a few. John can manage two rounds, three on a perfect day, but pushing it has him cranky. And he’s usually able to last a bit, but that depends on how you feel.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

— He’s not a fan of them, seeing that he, himself, can pleasure you in ways that are better than some silicone. However, if you’ve been bad, the yes. Expect some toys — and anal — to come into play until you can start acting right.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

— A big tease. Drags things out so agonizing that it leaves you on the bridge of crying. He’ll slick himself along your entrance, thrust in a pace he knows you love, praising and grunting dirty words in your ear until you’re right there–…! Only for Jonathon to smirk, commanding you to stay put until he says you can move. His fingers play with your nipples, gently pulling as he finally pushes you over the edge and makes you cum too many to count as make-up.

John will also send you messages, some risky photos or rather promises of what’s to come later that night and what he’s going to do to you once you two are home.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

— He’s loud in aspects of talking. Praises, dirty talk that turn into long muffled groans. Shuffles between low growls, grunts, and moans – a definite habit of more subtle sounds and signs of pleasure. A throaty low growl when he enters you, voice going up in pitch before he cums, and noses your neck, fingers squeezing your skin when he gets territorial.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

— He really enjoys breakfast in bed. His fake meal is a large plate with 3 sunny-side-up eggs, waffles with extra butter, and crispy bacon. But, he wants you for breakfast each morning when he can. It’s his favorite, especially waking you up with slurred moans.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes ;))

— John is around 6.5 inches, extremely thick, heavy in a sense he bounces whenever he takes off his boxers, and stretches most holes; it takes a lot of prepping. Circumcised, his foreskin doesn’t cover all the way, just enough for his tip to peak through. Has some prominent veins, thick and fat, where you can feel it. He has a full rug trail.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

— It’s not through the roof, but it isn’t low either; in-the-between. He can control himself if needed. When he’s home, you guys have sex a few times a week. Much more if he’s stressed or annoyed. But one thing is sure, you’ll know it’s at its peak for him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

— Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t get up and smoke a fat cigar. Instead, he stays with you – huddled beneath you in the warm sheets, your head laying on top of his chest and his own arm hanging over you. He hums in appreciation when you wrap your arms around it, cuddling it closer to you.

Likely, he falls asleep first, but can you blame him? He’s a busy man, with a busy life, and a hell of a token that he calls you. Though, don’t think of sneaking away – his hold on you is very tight for a reason.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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purinfelix · 5 months

Note

What about Felix and famous!reader????

pairing: joao felix x formula one driver reader summary: you're a famous formula one driver with a footballer boyfriend who's almost as famous warnings: none! some cringey couple things here and there though so be warned ...

a/n: ANON YOUR MINDD OMGG - also hope you don't mind that i made reader a formula one driver bc i think the dynamic would fit hehe also ?? first request ever AND first headcanon-style post? look at me go

a little backstory ...

✦ It all starts at an airport - you and your team making your way to the next race whilst he and Barcelona are travelling home. Just as you’re walking through the airport terminal you manage to lock eyes with him for a split second, the sides of his lips curling into a smile. You feel yourself blush and stop in your tracks before being ushered along by your manager. You don't know it then, but the mysterious boy had also turned around to catch one last glimpse of you before your figure disappeared through the terminal gates. At least, as much of a glimpse as he could get before his teammates caught on with jeering whistles and teasing remarks.

✦ It’s just your luck that a couple of fans who had been waiting for either of your teams caught a couple clips of this moment and post it online - and it becomes the ultimate content for edits, shipping conspiracies, and videos.

✦ From there on, things blow up. Clips of you watching his games or shots of him with your instagram posts open on his phone go viral amongst a flurry of dating rumours.

✦ You first connect over these silly videos, but once you actually get to know each other you realise there’s actual chemistry between you two and eventually start dating - which you accidentally announce to the world after Joao scores a goal and points up to you in the stands (needless to say the internet was very happy that night)

✦ On attending his games - him always insisting you have the best view (especially of him), enough tickets for anyone you want to bring, and every single one of his jerseys to wear

✦ And vice versa, him attending your races and just being so supportive of you - he never wants you to feel like you’re just a wag, and is always sure to elevate your own success and achievements over your relationship

✦ Always wearing your merch, sharing your posts about your recent wins in races, his instagram has just become a fanpage for you at this point - and he’s totally not complaining

✦ Football fans finding out about you through him (“Wait Joao Felix’s partner is like some athlete? I thought they were just a wag lol they’re actually cool”) and Formula One fans finding out about him through you (“You mean to tell me Joao Felix as in y/n’s boyfriend actually does stuff and isn’t just their trophy boyfriend???”)

✦ With that being said, your relationship does involve some long-distance periods because of both of your professions but both of you put in so much effort that it works. Though it’s not easy, he definitely makes up for it whenever you two do get to meet up by spoiling you rotten and spending as much time with you as possible.

✦ Him CONSTANTLY getting teased by the team, but never learning his lesson and continues to bring you up at every single opportunity (he can’t help it, he’s just so proud of you :(( )

“Dude, cmon.” Pedri huffs as another one of Joao’s shots rebound off of the goal post during a cold morning training. “Hey cut him some slack, he’s probably thinking about his partner,” Gavi’s tone is teasing as he says this, poking at Joao’s sides as the taller boy snarls in response. Even so, he can’t help but smile a little at the mention of you. “Can you blame me? Did you guys see them last night? They were amazing, I mean Their overtakes were amazing and going from P10 to P3 is insa-” he begins, but is cut off by the groans of his teammates around him who all go off to train on their own. He doesn’t mind though, since he’s the one who’s lucky to have a partner worth bragging about.

✦ Is quite possessive and protective, not because he doesn’t trust you to be loyal or take care of yourself but because he knows what kinds of dangers being famous can pose and he wants to be able to help you through them.

✦ Whenever you attend award ceremonies together his hand never leaves your waist, partially because he feels a little awkward without you (introvert bf things) but also because he just likes the feeling of having you close to him at all times

✦ OMG you guys have such a Barbie and Ken dynamic - esp that one audio that’s like “Barbie has a great day every day, but Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him.”

✦ Overall you guys are generally adored by everyone, as much as Felix gets teased by his teammates, fans, and media outlets alike <33

And a little something extra for my formula one / football girlies - I present to you: Carlos the Madridista reacting to you dating a Barcelona player

“No, I will not have this.” Carlos throws his hands up in frustration as he begins to walk away from you two. It’s Joao’s first time visiting you on the grid since you’ve ‘officially’ announced your relationship, and you wanted to introduce him to someone you considered a big brother. Only thing was, you had forgotten how deep the rivalry between the team Carlos supported, Real Madrid, and your boyfriend’s team ran. “Carlos, please,” you sound exasperated but in reality you’re trying to hold back laughter at how dramatic his reaction is. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was a Barcelona player?” “What does it matter?” “How could you?!” Carlos exclaims, his voice making it clear how betrayed he feels at your decision. Next to you, your boyfriend tenses up - you can tell how nervous he is to be meeting your group of friends and so you take his hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. Even so, this entire situation is hilarious to you. “Oh get over yourself,” you huff. Eventually, you manage to get the two of them to sit down and have a proper man-to-man conversation in which they realise they have more in common than they think - the most obvious being both of them caring for you which they seem to have no problem bonding over. Needless to say, Carlos’ hatred of the opposing club might’ve lessened a little that day.

#formula one/football #formula one football crossover #football fanfic #football fluff #joao felix #joao felix fanfic #joao felix x reader #joao felix x you #joao felix fluff #joao felix fic #joao felix headcanons #purinfelix #jet writes ★#jet answers ✧

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pricesbeltbuckle · 3 months

Note

-`♡´-

Heyyy, I’ve never done a request before (I apologise if I submitted it in the wrong place)

But I was hoping if you could do TF141 x Fem!Reader (smut and or aftercare if you want)

Where reader is a hardworking person who’s stressed and pent up thanks to work, and they just need their love to ease them :(

Thank youu

-`♡´-

Stressed? - 141

Pairing: 141 x GN! Reader MDNI 18+

Warnings: Sexual themes,Fluff,Sexual sayings.

John Price:

He noticed immediately. The way you fidgeted with your hands and how you were pacing in your office in the house.

“Something bothering you sweetheart?” And as soon as you heard his comforting voice you bolted into his arms so he could pick you up.

He picked you up with ease and let you ramble about what was stressing you.

He carried you to your shared bedroom and laid you on your back

“What are you-” “Shhh…Just let me turn off that pretty little brain for a while, yeah?”

And after a good hour, you felt relieved. You laid on your back post-orgasam bliss clear on your face.

“Hmm I’ll be right back baby.” He spoke up quietly and came back within 5 minutes. He had a water bottle and a warm wet rag.

He ran the wet rag across your legs and your hole to clean up the cum that was leaking out.

“Drink some water f’me while I do this.” “Mhm..” Is all you could respond with as you drank some water while he cleaned you up.

You shortly fell asleep after he was done cleaning you and he laid down so you could lay on his chest as he played with your hair.

He soothed you to sleep, and he smiled down at your sleeping body still running his fingers through your hair.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

When you called his name from the front door you just entered he ran to come give you a hug. But he noticed your off demeanor.

“Hi lovie, everything alright?” You lazily wrapped your arms around him shaking your head.

He picked you up bridal style and sat you down on the kitchen counter.

You ranted about your day swinging your feet around as he was making your favorite soup and making comments while you ranted.

“I mean what a bitch right? She just bumped into me without saying sorry!” “Mhm she sounds like a cunt-” “KYLE!! You know that word isn’t nice…But yeah you’re right.”

He giggled a little and poured some soup into a bowl, grabbing a spoon he fed you some as you finished up your rant he smiled and listened to every word you said.

“Mhm, I have a way to cheer you up.” “Hm? What do you mean…?”

He put the bowl and spoon into the sink, picking you up again he placed you down onto the bed in your bedroom.

“Just let me take care of you, I’ll make sure you forget about everything for a bit.”

And he definitely delivered. You felt so much better after. He cuddled you for however long you wanted after and whispered soothing and comforting things into your ear.

“Did so well f’me.” “you look so good like this.” “I’m so proud of you baby.”

He gave you so many kisses and rubbed circles onto your back to calm you down so you could take a little nap. And when you finally fell asleep he smiled to himself and he fell asleep with you shortly after.

John 'Soap' Mactavish:

When you came into the living room after your long and awfully stressful day at work you just slumped on top of John.

“Well hello to you to lass, you alright?” “I’ve had the longest day and I’m so tired and stressed.”

As soon as he heard that he adjusted your body so you were comfortable on top of him as he rubbed circles and dragged his fingers all along your back as you spoke about your day further into detail.

“So then yeah this guy would just not leave me alone.” “What a douchebag. Can’t take rejection I see.” “Right! Ugh I just couldn’t stand him.”

He would occasionally graze his fingers over your ass but you decided to ignore it thinking it was an accident.

But then he sat you up on the couch and got you some snacks and let you pick out a movie in an attempt to calm you down.

The snacks helped, but the movie didn’t last long because you ended up ass up in the air, face shoved into the cushions of the couch.

“You’re gonna feel so much better once I’m done with you bonnie. Just relax and let go.”

And when he was done your back hurt sure, but you felt so relaxed.

He got up and ran you a bath putting your favorite candles on the sides of the tub while he lit them and checked the bathtub temperature.

“Bonnie c'mere'! I got a surprise for ya!” “Hm? Can you pick me up?” “Of course, I’ll come get ya.” And he came and picked you up bridal style

He laid out some fresh clothes for you and laid you in the tub dimming the lights he hopped in behind you and he washed your hair as you leaned into him, enjoying this quite intimate moment.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

Now he saw you stressing as soon as you hung up that phone.

“No Jim I already said no-...Are you kidding me? You know what, alright alright bye…SI-” “Right here Lovie, got your favorite movie ready and your snacks and an ICED coffee. I put extra ice.”

You jumped up to wrap your arms around him as you both laid on the bed and started the movie you cuddled up closely to him.

Maybe to close..

One thing lead to another and let’s just say you ended up on his lap. Right on his hardening cock.

“Hm I see…I’ll take nice and good care of you honey just sit nice and pretty f’me.”

And he stuck to his word, you relaxed on his chest after not wanting to get off of him quite yet.

You were basically cockwarming him not moving an inch you just liked feeling full.

You both sat there like that for about 20 minutes before he lifted you up and set you down on the bed as he started a shower for you, you preferred showers alone so you could thoroughly clean yourself.

When you finished your shower he left out some pajamas for you to wear.

And you and him cuddled as he whispered praising and calming things to you.

“You’re gonna be okay.” “Don’t stress, relax I got you.” “You’re safe with me.”

You listened to his words and fell asleep shortly after and he kept whispering things and kissing your forehead.

I LOVED THIS SMMMM AHHHH!!! 🖤

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xotication · 7 months

Text

hear me out okay..

kaneki loves to leave marks. whether it’s hickeys, bruises, literal bite marks.. you’ve had your fair share of it all. you can’t even complain either, because it doesn’t change anything. poor ken just thinks they look really pretty on you nd he can’t help it :(

sometimes it’s kind of embarrassing how many hickeys he’ll leave on your neck.. you hate having to cover them all the time so at some point you just give up & he’s ecstatic about it. you could be doing your makeup at your lil vanity, nd he’ll come up behind you just to lift your chin nd admire the love bites in the mirror. he’s sosososososo fucken proud of em too.

one time he took a video & posted it on YOUR insta story.. you knew he had your password but you didn’t think he’d do that. what’s funny is that you didn’t even realize until people were replying to your story going crazy.

“wtf??”

“are you dating a vampire??”

“did it hurt..”

“what’s wrong with you..?”

all types of things were being said. kaneki didn’t care though, & he didn’t necessarily understand why you did either. in his eyes it just let people know you were his nd his only.

the bruises he’d give you would be on your hips or thighs from gripping them too hard during sex. he tells you he’s sorry nd that he feels super bad afterwards but he’ll never admit that a big little part of him enjoys hurting you like that.. he doesn’t know what you’d think so he keeps it to himself.

he’ll always make sure to give you an ice pack wrapped in a towel so that it helps the bruises go away but if you say you’re fine without it, he doesn’t pry.. he’ll even ask if he can take pictures but you never really wondered why. you’re just a good s/o so you let him!!

oh nd don’t even get me started on you leaving marks on him.

he LOVES IT. he genuinely thinks it’s so cute nd he leaves them on display if & when the chance is given. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks. even if he goes to work, he couldn’t give less of a fuck if they’re “unprofessional” you try & tryyyy to tell him that he won’t die if he covers them up.. but he begs to differ.

“how will other people know i’m taken if they’re covered?”

“well, you could tell them.. if they ask you anything”

“too much work.”

kaneki’s using any excuse that he can. nd idk if you’ve ever seen those pics of the girls making lil hearts on their bf’s chest out of hickeys but kaneki BEGS you to do it for him. nd when you do he doesn’t wear a shirt for days.. “i should get this tatted” LMAOO ND HE’S SOSOSO SERIOUS.

his obsession with you nd everything you do is absolutely insane. it’s to the point where he’s literally told you he doesn’t even like looking at other girls/boys. like seeing them in public or at work is an ick for him. you leave him wondering why they even exist.

if his friends ask about the marks or tease him about them, he doesn’t let it slide at all. like omg.. this man is all like “mkay & when’s the last time you got play..? ohhh okay” HE’S SO SASSY FOR WHAATT. like baby sit down. it’s just a jokey joke.

n e wayz. he’s all for the love marks. you guys could be 40 nd he’ll still be laying them across your skin.

we love a crazily obsessive man!! ^-^

#HDMAKSKDJ i can’t ..#i need him like wtf #he’s actually so yummy y’all don’t understand #i’m gunna bite his face off #anime #manga #fanfic #fluff #headcannons #kaneki ken #kaneki x reader #tokyo ghoul #x reader #tokyo ghoul re #kaneki smut

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glitzreyasblog · 3 months

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Hi girl! Well i want to manifest high grades in my exams but sometimes when i pass the exam and then the teachers returns my papers i find them bad...and then i give up persisting, how do i fix that? It Also a problem with changing my past grades, it just the 3d circumstances triggers me and that would make me think that it impossible to change my grades. I Hope you see my Ask and thank you 💗

hey, anon, thanks for asking ! ♡

first, nothing is impossible. the truth is everything is available to you and everything is possible. so even if you don’t always believe everything is possible, know that the truth is that every possibility is at your fingertips.

I understand that the 3D can be triggering, I mean, of course it is! if it’s in your face 24/7 how could it not annoy you? but at the end of the day, as long as you realize that the 3D and it’s circumstances literally mean nothing and can’t do anything to impact your manifestations— you’re good.

also, the 3D is neverrrr a source of confirmation or validation. don’t look to it and take whatever it says as the last word. it’s not in the 3D, so what? keep going. There’s no such thing as giving up since you’re always manifesting, giving up simply means persisting in the assumption you don’t want.

the 3D always look at you for validation anyways. everything in the 3D comes from you because the 3D is you, there’s no separation! so don’t believe that the 3D can create on its own or that whatever happens in the 3D is set in stone. keep doing your thing and the 3D has no choice but to follow— that is a guarantee.

I really recommend reading these posts by @etherealkissed88 , as soon as I saw your ask, her posts popped into my head:

indifference towards the 3D

applying the law while experiencing the 3D

(I rlly recommend her blog too! it’s been incredibly helpful for me and allowed me to find success in my loa journey 🫶)

don’t look at your grades in the 3D and take that as a sign that “it didn’t work”. don’t take anything that happens in the 3D as a sign of anything. the 3D literally means nothing, so don’t let it stop you. the only one who can change your reality is you, so dont give up just because the insignificant 3D shows you something.

ps, it’s perfectly okay to have doubts. lots of people manifest even with doubts, anxiety, negative thoughts, etc. once you’ve decided that you have it, it’s done. nothing can take that away from you. so do whatever you want, interact with the 3D, while knowing you already made the decision that it’s yours.

and remember, the 3D can only change once there is a change in self.

aside from my advice, I’d also like to share my experience, because I used to be in a similar situation. I depended on the 3D for confirmation so much it’s not even funny. I’m proud to say that now my mindset is completely different and i couldn’t care that much about the 3D if I tried. what helped me the most was learning and understanding the significance of imagination. learning the importance of imagination and self was what changed the game for me. I was able to give myself everything I wanted in my imagination, I was able to fulfill and change self with ease and I had never felt more free doing so. It also made me a million times more sure in my decision that I had what I wanted. because why would I care about the 3D and what it was showing me if i had everything i wanted in the 4D— the real reality. so, if your 3D grades are bothering you then simply have fun in the 4D! what do you desire aside from the grades? Is it the satisfaction of achieving such high marks? Is it the pride you’ll have in yourself once you get the top score? Is it relief you want to feel? Do you want to impress your peers? Or is it academic validation you want? Whatever it is, give it to yourself within. and don’t just do that for the sake of change in the 3D, for the sake of getting something, do it because you’ll feel how you want to feel. do it because you’ll feel confident in the assumption you have high marks.

give yourself something to fall in love with in imagination.

another ps (I swear I’m almost done just stay with me😭😭) it’s also worth mentioning that you as the outer man can do absolutely nothing to change the outer world, nor should you strive to. the only way to change the 3D is to change self, change imagination. to create a new assumption which then turns into a new identity.

at the end of the day, it all comes back to the inner world. a change in the 3D can only be created by a change in the 4D. so you either make the change or get stuck in the cycle that is putting the 3D on a pedestal. the choice is yours.

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steddieunderdogfics · 2 months

Text

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: Wormdebut! Wormdebut has published 18 fics on AO3 all in the steddie tag!

@thefreakandthehair recommends the following works by @wormdebut:

Tell Eddie He Looks Sexy With His Hair Pushed Back

Kiss Your Knuckles (Before You Punch Me In The Face)

Hell Bent For Leather

All You Have Is Your Fire

It Feels Like Fourteen Carats But No Clarity (When I Look At The Man Who Would Be King)

Worm is incredible! For a humble worm, they sure know how to write fanfiction. ;) But seriously, Worm has a way of exploring different dynamics in such depth with an immense amount of care that's so obvious in the finish products! -- @thefreakandthehair

Below the cut, Wormdebut answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

These two idiots inspire me. I mean look at them. I think the thing I love about Steve and Eddie is that to me they are destined to be together. Post-Canon, Alternate Universe. It doesn’t matter. They are meant to be together in any scenario. I could and will write about these two forever.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Rockstar Eddie, baby. I love some good sex, drugs and rock and roll.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Is safe (mostly)sane and consensual BDSM a trope? I like to write that. 😂

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Tuesday’s Gone With The Wind - Thisapplepielife there is nothing quite like reading this for the first time. I truly thought I was going to explode as it was being updated.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Omegaverse! I have a fic in the worm vault that will come out eventually. Wormegaverse. It’s coming. I’m fucking stoked for it.

What is your writing process like?

Hoooboy. It’s a mess. I cannot write an outline to save my life. (I’m looking at you King of Hell Eddie fic. I know you need an outline okay?) I tend to write in order, but if I get stuck I will skip a scene or two ahead so I can figure out how to squish two pieces of a story together OR I will write little notes about my intentions and skip it and come back. (My favorite note of all time is when I wrote “spit kink shit.” So I could remember my very pure intentions)

Do you have any writing quirks?

Boy do I! I tend to go into like writing fugue states where I will just bust out thousands of words in a sitting and if I am not doing that I am thinking and over thinking about when im gonna fugue out again. I also get really stressed when it actually comes time to write a sex scene? Weird, I know. But every single one is super important to me and I want to make sure they read well. My friends can attest that I am an absolute basket case when it comes to me writing Steve and Eddie getting down and dirty.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

God when I’m done. I am NOT great at posting chaptered fics but I am trying to get better with it? I prefer writing larger pieces though. I am an over-thinker to a fault and for some reason I stress less with one-shots.

Which fic are you most proud of?

It’s gotta be Kiss Your Knuckles. That fic is everything to me. But my Boys Who Kiss series is also so fucking important to me. Those two have so much more to tell y’all and I can’t wait to share their lives with you. I’m a musician so any of my fics that are heavily laced with performance and song are very special.

How did you get the idea for Kiss Your Knuckles (Before You Punch Me In The Face)?

I remember listening to Twin Size Mattress one day and I was like—Holy Shit, this is so Steddie-Coded it hurts. And it’s post-canon AND Rockstar Eddie? Incredible. The words just screamed Eddie Behavior and I knew Steve had to write a one-hit wonder about how he felt.

When writing Kiss Your Knuckles (Before You Punch Me In The Face), what was something you didn’t expect?

Oh I sobbed when I finished it. I couldn’t believe that I had actually finished it. It truly means the world to me and I wanted to share it with you all so badly. I cried for like an hour.

What inspired It Feels Like Fourteen Carats But No Clarity (When I Look At The Man Who Would Be King)?

Honestly? Tumblr user @ghosttotheparty had made a post about the scenario that Fourteen Carats is about and I messaged them and was like hey listen I want to take a shot at this, if that’s okay. Fourteen Carats is the first fully formed fic that I have ever posted aside from tumblr Drabbles and while I personally don’t love it I keep it up just in case someone somewhere does. 😂

What was your favorite part to write from All You Have Is Your Fire?

OH. Absolutely just eluding to Tattoo Legend and Icon, Jim Hopper. God he so fucking hot neat.

How do/did you feel writing Tell Eddie He Looks Sexy With His Hair Pushed Back?

I felt some type of a way, clearly. I think this is my favorite Eddie that I have ever written (My favorite Steve is Kiss Your Knuckles Steve) and he just kept getting more and more interesting. Like who the hell fucks you and speaks French while they do it? Tell Eddie Eddie does. And thank god for that guy.

What was the most difficult part of writing Hellbent For Leather?

Writing sub/bottom Eddie! I did this fic as a gift for tumblr user @gorgeousgreymatter-x (love you bitch) and it was hard because I don’t often write that dynamic, but god damn I loved these two Steddies.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Ah— “It is, and I do.” Something about French chef Eddie, really—yeah. I am proud of everything I have written but if I can be honest with you I rarely remember what I have done. I often joke that it’s simply Steve and Eddie in my brain just writing what they want, because people will quote my work or talk to me about a scene and I’m like—‘I wrote that?? Nice.’

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

WELL. Once I can break myself out of this accidental hiatus I am so excited to share more of For Your Entertainment with yall. I am also so fucking excited to share King Of Hell Eddie with the world. I can’t fucking wait. I am working on a ‘Came Back Wrong’ fic that is less scary and more comedic and I am stoked for that. I have quite a few things that are happening and I am just so fucking excited to share them all with you.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just thank you. Thank you for reading and thanks for letting me be a part of all of this. I have not felt this inspired and loved in a long fucking time and I’m not going anywhere so I hope yall will stick around for the wild ride. Fucking love you.

Thank you to our author, Wormdebut, and our nominator, @thefreakandthehair! See more of Wormdebut's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddie writers #writer's wednesday

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froggibus · 7 months

Text

Punishment - Kento Nanami

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f! Reader (reader uses f pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: you thought it would be fun to send your boyfriend pictures at work, but Nanami is not impressed

CW: spanking, punishment, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, dom! Nanami, slight pain play, you call nami 'sir', mentions of aftercare

hello I am unfortunately sick so some of my posts might be delayed the next few days :( sorry in advance but hope you guys enjoy

Kinktober Masterlist

You turn your phone on and off again for the millionth time today, staring at the little grey letters that say ‘Seen: 12:21pm’. You thought it would be fun, but based on his silence, Nanami must think otherwise.

You power it on once more and click into the chat, the photo of you in brilliant blue lingerie the last thing being sent in chat. It was a good picture of you—a really good picture. A picture that you just couldn’t wait to share with your lover.

Too bad he wasn’t giving you the reaction you wanted.

As the hours tick away with still no response, you can’t help but get nervous. Did you take it too far? Is he mad at you? Butterflies fill your stomach—what if he punishes you? The thought makes you wet.

When you hear the key in the door, you’re up on your feet and standing by waiting. Nanami looks tired, as usual. He’s wearing that same tie he always does, the one that’s been used to bind your hands many times. The minute his eyes settle on you, you shrink.

“Baby, I’m so glad you’re home!” You say innocently.

Nanami has no time for your pleasantries. “Strip into your underwear and go wait by our bed.”

Chills fill your body at his commanding tone, a layer of what could almost be anger beneath it. Your feet start moving before you’re done registering his words, your body always eager to obey him.

You strip out of your clothes, leaving you in that same lingerie you’d been so proud of earlier. You stand by the bed impatiently, almost throbbing in need. The sound of his footsteps echoes down the hall, intentionally loud, intentionally intimidating.

When he comes into view, he’s loosening the tie around his neck and smoothing it between his hands. You stay perfectly still, not daring to speak or move a muscle while you wait for his next move.

He presses up behind you, the fabric of his suit rubbing against your bare skin. “Do you think it’s funny to tease me at work?” He grabs your hands and pulls them behind your back, wrapping the silky fabric of his tie around your wrists. “Do you think it’s funny to be such a blatant whore for me?”

You swallow. “N-no, sir.”

He sits back on the bed, tossing you over his lap so that your ass is front and centre. He has your hands bound in a way that you can barely move them, your arms extended and unable to bend to cover yourself.

He rubs your ass, his warm hands feeling nice on your cold skin. “That’s what I thought,” his voice drops an octave, a dangerous whisper, “and yet you did it anyway.”

He slaps your ass hard, the sound ringing out through the room. You cry out and try to wiggle away but he grabs your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He kneads the skin of your ass cheek, “you’re going to sit here and take your punishment like a good girl.”

“But it hurts,” you whine.

He smacks your ass three times in a row. Quick slaps, just a flick of his wrist, but enough to sting. Your panties dampen with the pain and you just hope that he doesn’t notice the growing wet spot.

“Good girls don’t speak while they’re being punished. They lay there, count how many times I slapped their slutty ass and thank me for training them so well.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than the burn of your ass and the desperate ache in your pussy. “Yes sir.”

He rewards you by gently rubbing your ass, giving you a minute to recover before he continues his assault.

His hand leaves your butt and you brace yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as he lands another blow to your sensitive skin. “O-one.”

“And?” He pulls his hand away, threatening to deliver another blow.

“T-thank you for training me sir.”

“Good girl.”

He smacks your ass a few more times, listening to your whiny, shaking voice as you count them out. His cock only grows harder with each impact, the mix of your pained whines and the way you squirm making him crazy. He slips his hand between your legs, fingers dipping down to rub at your wetness through the lace of your panties.

He chuckles, “you like getting punished, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you say quietly, hiding your face in the bed so he can’t see the shameful flush of your skin.

“So wet,” he groans, tugging your panties down to your knees.

He rubs circles on your clit with his index finger, his hand already covered in your slick. He runs his finger through your folds and dips it inside of your soaking hole. His finger slips inside easily, your walls already wet and open and so eager for him.

He pumps his finger in and out of you, “who knew my little angel liked getting her ass all red?”

“Kento,” you whine, arching your back to get his finger deeper.

He lands another slap to your ass and slips a second finger in simultaneously. “You’re in no position to beg for anything,” he slaps your ass again, “you get what I’m nice enough to give you. Actually, you should thank me for taking such good care of you.”

“T-thank you,” you mumble.

He keeps pumping his fingers inside of you at a steady pace, slowing down anytime you start to get close. He kneads the burning skin of your ass while he fingers you, trying to soothe away your earlier punishment. He’s sure there might be bruises later on, though.

He starts to move his fingers faster, curling them up inside of you to pet that perfect little spot in your walls. You cry out for him desperately, limbs thrashing and pussy fluttering around him.

“Is my angel gonna cum soon?”

You nod your head, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes. “P-please let me cum, I’ll do anything, please.”

He smacks your ass one last time, reaching his hand around to rub your clit. He only runs a few circles into your sensitivity before you’re gushing around him, pussy spraying all over his palm and suit bottoms.

He keeps his fingers inside of you while you cum, slowly working you through your orgasm. When you’re finally done spasming in his lap, he pulls his fingers out, prodding them at your lips.

You let yourself roll off of his lap and onto your knees on the carpet, opening your mouth so that he can stick his fingers inside. You take them as far back as you can, the tips grazing the back of your throat.

You suck on them for a few minutes before he pulls them out, satisfied with your work.

He wipes the spit and tears off of your face. “Such a good girl,” he coos. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami smut #kento nanamj x y/n #nanami x y/n

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Penalty Box— Trevor Zegras (Part Twenty-Six)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: twenty-five

welcome to the final game day post of the season! thank you all for loving this series so much that it has developed into what it is now! i’ve got many surprises in store for the summer, and i can’t wait to share them! first surprise coming soon ;)

THURSDAY, APRIL 13TH

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, and 11,194 others

yourusername welcome to my final 2022-23 season penalty box update show (cue the sad awes)! buckle up and hold onto your butts and iced coffees buttercups because you are in for a WILD ride!

let’s start off with the highlights before i get into my boyfriend’s extra curricular activities for those who missed this beautiful monstrosity of a game! to start off this freeway faceoff rivalry, dad scored the opening goal goal 2:44 minutes in! so my dad of him! but alas, before the period ended a k*ng scored. there were three penalties this period: jonesy for cross checking, a k*ng for interfering with lundy, and a delay of game bench minor served by stromer. it was a very nice attempt to clear the goal, but alas, stromer was sent to pay for dallas’s crime.

second period was fairly mild, but almost halfway through, z-baby got his first penalty of the night (yes, you read that correctly) for hi-sticking! the spelling of this penalty cracks me up because it’s like “hi!! here’s my stick!! in your face!! as a gift!!” then mr. drew helleson got his first nhl penalty for hooking! congratulations! and lastly, a k*ng was sent to jail for attempted murder against dad. good riddance! love you, dad!

special note, here is what the commentators said sbout z’s first penalty: “i know trevor zegras is real good friends with jack hughes but he needs to take a page out of that book” (this is in reference to jack only have six minutes this season, and trevor after this penalty had 77. it has since increased.)

third period is when this gets wild, laid-eez! we started off strong with stromer getting a tripping penalty 4:40 in. THEN, z-baby was sent to the bin with seven seconds left in stromer’s penalty to serve the too many men bench minor, which was hilarious imo. as soon as stromer’s penalty ended, he hit the puck over the glass, and had to turn his ass around right back into the box for a delay of game penalty and this was the funniest thing i’ve ever witnessed. at 15:25, the chaos ensued. trevor was wrongly abused and he retaliated, causing a big ol scrum in front of the bench. the k*ng that committed the hate crime got a double minor for roughing against z, and grant got a roughing minor for roughing against said k*ng, as well as my cute lil psycho boyfriend. my said boyfriend ran his mouth a lil too much and received a misconduct that got him ejected from the game. NOT EVEN A MINUTE LATER, multiple fights broke out at once where “everybody chose a dance partner” (thank you commentators for that lovely quotes) which got jonesy and carrick both ejected with misconducts, and nesty had to serve carrick’s boarding penalty that started it all. i was THRILLED and having the time of my life to say the least!

to end, i would like to address that z and i have a long talk in the locker room, and i have received explicit permission from all guilty parties to post this. i also want to say how proud i am of this team for pushing through, and i’m sorry that you didn’t get the end you all wanted. i love each and every one of you!

and to my lovely z, congratulations on your 23rd goal tonight. congratulations on all other accomplishments this season and beating your previous career highs! i’ve seen you do some beautiful, mind blowing, magical things this season, and i know you’re only going to get better from here. i can’t wait to spend the summer with you🧡 i love you, always, trevor <3

tagged trevorzegras

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trevorzegras thank you for everything you did for me tonight, my sweet girl🧡 i love you, forever!

jamie.drysdale was she nice first or angry first?

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale luke doesn’t call her scary sissy behind her back for nothing

yourusername i’m not gonna argue with that

trevorzegras @/yourusername i called luke out and you’re going to say nothing?

yourusername @/trevorzegras he scored his first goal tonight!

trevorzegras @/yourusername I SCORED A GOAL TONIGHT

yourusername @/trevorzegras AND THEN YOU SCORED A MISCONDUCT

jamie.drysdale i feel so safe in my home

user38 y/n is right, this game was a beautiful monstrosity

tterry19 love you, too! thanks for sticking by us!

yourusername i always will <3

user6 look at trevor holding his coffee i love that little shit lmao

jamie.drysdale (beware i’m about to be sappy) i just want to say thank you for staying with me during my injury and supporting not only z, but me, too, in the few games i played. we’ve gotten so much closer this year and i’m really glad we did, wifey! can’t wait for you to switch between mine and z’s jerseys at games next season! i love you! (p.s. thanks for letting my play guitar in the house!)

yourusername jamie drysdale i will come into your room and sob into your chest the second we get home istg

jackhughes @/yourusername are you not with him right now?

yourusername @/jackhughes i’m in the bathroom

trevorzegras @/yourusername get off your phone i want to go home

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras why? just why? she’ll never leave the bathroom now

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes

_quinnhughes @/yourusername sissy, i’ll throw away your blanket you have here if you don’t leave because if i get one more text from trevor i’ll fly down there and smother him myself

yourusername F I N E

user16 z and stormer in the box together post stromer going back in is so funny

frank_vatrano you’ve been great to have around as a cheerleader this season! love you lots, y/n/n!

yourusername awww tank! i love you tooooo

anaheimducks we love our wags!

yourusername and we love you!

user49 derek grant is my hero because he got a roughing penalty and sat back and relaxed 😂

yourusername just a king doing king shit (he semi tried to comfort my boyfriend)

_quinnhughes sissy, be honest, how many individual feelings are you feeling right now?

trevorzegras y/n is unavailable right now. she’s under my shirt.

jamie.drysdale we saw her laugh, cry, and thank the hockey gods in a span of two minutes before she got under it but we’ll tell her you asked

yourusername at least twelve emotions and four of them are partly your fault, quintin. thank you, i’m obsessed with you, and i love you <3

_quinnhughes @/yourusername i love you, too! now go to bed <3

colecaufield i cannot share my thoughts at the risk of breaking z’s heart and trust

trevorzegras you’re so good to me

yourusername text me your thoughts

colecaufield kk

trevorzegras update: cole is not that good to me

user77 if this game didn’t perfectly sum up this season idk what would

shattdeuces i love you, daughter! you’ve been a delight to have around these last couple of years! can’t wait to see what chaos you create next season!

yourusername oohhhhh i got big prank ideas, mom! and i love you, too!

user22 can’t wait for the hot z edits

masonmctavish23 thanks for making my rookie year special! you’re one of the most welcoming people i’ve ever met!

yourusername everyone is a sap in my comments tonight aw! i love you mac-t!

masonmctavish23 i love you, too

jackhughes you’re telling me you threatened no one to comment nice things? people just are?

yourusername this team worships me idk what to tell you

trevorzegras she is a fan favorite

jackhughes i am absolutely perplexed

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes stop using big boy words its scary

yourusername @_quinnhughes it’s***

lhughes_06 college dropout alert

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 says the one who dropped out a week ago

trevorzegras since there’s been so much love in the comments tonight, i just want to publicly announce that i have the best and most supportive girlfriend in the world who went out of her way to ensure she supported all of her friends in family in their big moments, and their worst. everyone deserves a y/n, but i, along with the few lucky others, get the best one🧡

jamie.drysdale psa: y/n cannot respond as she’s under my shirt now

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes come quick

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras booking a flight

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futbol16 · 1 year

Text

You Can Smile? • Ona Batlle

I’ve really enjoyed writing this so I hope you like it too!

Request: If you can, maybe a Ona x Reader. Reader is known as someone who is brutal on and off the pitch. This is due to rumors spread around by an ex. Maybe Reader has a few scars on her face and that makes her intimidating because that adds to a few factors like her height and athletic build. But in reality she is a big softy and Ona sees that when she sees R helping a fan after almost being crushed. After witnessing that encounter she observes R for the next few days and sees that R is actually a gentlewoman, holding doors, pulling out chairs, reaching things for people and packing training stuff away. Ona and Reader share a room after being moved around and slowly they get closer. Maybe in a game Ona gets tackled(badly) R gets angry and is just a powerhouse for the rest of the game. Maybe it ends with R being soft towards Ona in front of everyone in the locker room and carrying her to their own room and just hugging her(spooning) in bed with a confession and Ona having to ask R out on a date because R is too shy and can't get the words out. 🤷‍♀️ sorry for rambling. I just love your Ona fics!(:

Word count: 3,9k

Your transfer has been one of the biggest signings of the summer, Chelsea’s star midfielder who hasn’t renewed her contract and a bunch of European clubs wanting her. Everyone expected you to follow your national teammate, Georgia to Germany, but to the fan’s surprise, you chose Manchester. Although many hoped you’d stay true to your colors with the blue jersey, Man United’s welcome post made it clear you were now one of the reds. While some thought you made the wrong decision and should have stayed at Chelsea, the United fans and team welcomed you with open arms and you happily reunited England’s infamous trio.

Alessia and Ella couldn’t have been more excited about the prospect of having you on their team and soon the rest of the girls were hyped about your arrival too. The two practically jumped on top of you on your first training session and though the pair of them told the rest of the team the rumors about you were false, they were still unconvinced.

You intrigued Ona, the second she saw you Ona knew she wanted to get to know you. However, that was easier said than done. Your departure from Chelsea was for many reasons, all minor in your opinion, but your relationship ending had been the last straw for you and you left your childhood club. The rumors your ex had spread, the not so subtle hinting at your short temper and unapproachable demeanor left your teammates and the Spaniard to believe that you were going to be cold and stoic.

It was their first impression of you, even after you’ve been introduced to them and have been their teammate for weeks they still only saw that side of you, the rumored side.

Ona watched as you got handed a ball upon entering the pitch and you made your way over to Ella while kicking at the ball. She let her eyes roam over your body. Staring at your face and she let her gaze linger on the scar just below your right eyebrow, there was a similar one next to your chin on the curve of your jaw. It made your already impassive expression look even scarier.

“What’s up soldier?” Tooney’s voice breaks her out of her trance and Ona watches as you nod at the brunette in greeting before passing the ball to her. Again, she was lost as she observed you skillfully control the ball as you warmed up with Ella. Sooner than expected, she’s sent to line up as the game is about to start.

You’re proud to say it only took you three matches to make the starting eleven and though you don’t show it with a smile, you make sure to give it your all during the game as a thank you to the fans supporting your team in the stands.

Another reason the United team thinks you’re cold is because of your playing style. You were not one to mess with, that’s it and everyone you ever faced knew this. You were brutal during matches, not afraid to get carded as you fought for the badge over your heart and cockily rubbing it into the opponent’s face when you scored. It was a sight to see, the passion you had for the game was one that many admired, Ona being one of them.

She wouldn’t admit to watching you more than paying attention at practice though.

Still, your chemistry with the team is undeniable. It’s as if you’ve been playing with them since day 1 and Manchester United seem like an unbeatable team now.

Yet another ball passes the keeper’s gloves and you show off your signature celebration, no hint of a smile on your face as you silence the crowd.

“YES SOLDIER, YES!” Tooney’s shout is one that almost deafens you but Ona grins at the way your lips twitch upwards. It’s been months since your signing, yet she still wasn’t over just how good you were. You fit in perfectly and it made her even more motivated to not let the opponents close to goal. Truly, your team was one to fear.

Manchester derby is a game that everyone looks forward to, the blues against the reds, City against United. The rivalry is huge, the talent is there but what matters is the score line after those 90’ minutes.

Both teams come in strong but the Red Devils know the outcome of the match by half-time.

Mary is set on having a clean sheet, Ona and Millie are stopping players advancing any chance they get and Alessia, Ella and yourself are linking up in the best way possible up front.

The crowd is wild at the close to sold out stadium when Man United win 3-1 and for the first time ever you flash a smile to the people, many of them screaming louder than before.

Both teams decide to make their rounds around the stadium thanking their fans and you pair off with Maya and Ona as you sign autographs.

Ona’s struggling to sign a shirt and you move over to help her, stretching out the material to make it easier to write. She doesn’t know why but her cheeks are burning at the close proximity and she hides a smile.

“Thank you” she mutters out and you unknowingly smile down at her, a tiny smile but nonetheless an incredibly rare sight.

“OH MY GOD, SHE JUST SMILED!”

“Y/N! Y/N!” shouts of your name have you looking up, the smile gone from your face and Ona glances up at you as you straighten up.

She takes notice of the furrow of your eyebrows and the way your eyes jump around the mass of people as if trying to spot someone. With a gentle hand on her shoulder, almost as if excusing yourself, you step aside and closer to the people. The Spaniard watches on curiously as you’re enveloped by too many people to count.

“Aye! Back up a bit, will ya?” your strong voice rings out and you step up to the railing as you reach down on the other side. They don’t all listen though and you’re forced to nudge the people away. “Watch out!”

The short brunette has now walked over to you and her eyes widen as you pull a child out of the crowd, a little boy who looks close to tears. A harsh glare is sent to the man behind the kid who realizes his mistake of almost crushing the boy against the railing but before he could apologize you’ve already turned your attention back to the boy.

Ona peers over your shoulder, as much as she can and she listens to how your voice suddenly comes out in a soft, comforting tone. It even has her feeling at ease as you talk to the boy, making sure he’s okay.

“You wanna come with me buddy?” He looks to be around 8 years old but he enthusiastically nods at your words and you quickly check with his parents before placing him in your neck. Ona lets out a giggle as the boy jumps up and down as you carry him around and you turn to her at the sound of the sweet voice.

“Your face is the same shade of red as your shirt” Millie snorts from next to her and Ona jumps at the sound.

“What do you mean?” she questions even though she knows the answer. Millie laughs at her fake confusion.

“I mean you’ve got the hots for soldier over there.” the blonde points after you and Ona slaps her hand away making sure no one saw. The defender raises an amused eyebrow at the action. “Just talk to her, she can’t be that scary. That kid seems to be having a whole lotta fun with her, so you know, maybe try” she shrugs.

“What? You want me to get on her shoulders?” Ona is beyond confused now and concerned for her friend who doubles over in laughter.

“Sure, if that’s like a kink of yours” Millie continues laughing on the ground as Ona only stares at her blankly, searching for the term of the unknown word but her eyes once again find your form and the dreamy look is back on her face.

She’s never seen you be so soft, so different from what the team was warned you’d be like. It wasn’t necessarily that they all believed the rumors spread about you, but they’ve truly only ever seen the ruthless and intimidating Y/N on the pitch and they didn’t know what you were like off it. The hurtful jabs at you from your ex at Chelsea didn’t help your case either, but this unexpected act of kindness and protectiveness from you had Ona shining a light on you.

It opened her eyes and throughout the next few days she observed your behavior with the team.

She took notice of the way you’d make sure to greet every staff member in sight when arriving at the training grounds and how you would often help them carry equipment out for training and then stay after to clean up as you shared small talk with the coaching and assistant staff. Unlike any other time, you gave them genuine smiles, though still little, they were there nevertheless and she knew they were grateful for your help.

She even noticed the lack of trouble Alessia now had with keeping herself upright. The English woman was known for her clumsiness and tripping over everything, mostly her own legs though. Since you’ve arrived the number of times she’d end up on the ground decreased and Ona is sure the blonde could only thank you for that. It was at one of the team lunches that she spotted your foot inching closer to the leg of Alessia’s chair before pushing it closer to the blonde who was standing. If it weren’t for you she would’ve missed her seat by a mile trying to sit back down.

All these little things had Ona realizing that you were far from what the rumors said about you, those rumors were indeed just rumors and totally wrong.

She was now eager to properly get to know you and get closer to you.

It seems like God heard her wishes, or maybe it was just Marc because the next away game Manchester has the two of you get roomed together.

“You can have the bed by the window if you want?” you look at the defender asking the question and you raise an eyebrow remembering that she liked to be closer to the window.

“Why? Don’t you want it?” she shrugs at you.

“Maybe, but if you want it then you can have it” you know your façade is breaking when you almost smile but you stick to jokingly rolling your eyes.

“Ona, you can have it, I’m good with the other one.” Even though the other bed looked to be a bit too close to the wall, no doubt whoever would be sleeping on it wouldn’t get much sleep with the way things were positioned, but you still thought it was a silly thing to be discussing. You’d much rather have Ona well rested and happy.

“Gracias” the Spanish slips out and she gives you a sheepish look, her cheeks pink.

The pair of you unknowingly form a routine the first few days before the friendly against Birkirkara. You get ready for the day together, pulling clothes on while making conversation, Ona waiting for you after practices, sometimes joining you and the staff in packing away and in the evening after a long day with the team you shower before her, ending the day with late night conversations.

It made you wonder why you only just befriended the short defender, but you’re happy you’ve finally had the courage to talk to her. It wasn’t a very well known fact, probably only your England teammates knew about just how shy you could be, especially around pretty women.

The fourth day of the week soon arrives and your team is delighted by the number of fans supporting them despite the match being held far from England. Manchester United bring their best selves and by half-time the reds are up 6-0, yourself scoring a massive goal with a rabona kick. The game is one all of you enjoy and you fight off a smile when Ona gets another assist, and the team another goal.

However, in the 84’th minute a rather mistimed tackle involving your favorite defender ends with her staying on the ground. You’re quick to get to her and with a gentle hand on her side you search for her gaze.

“You okay Ona?” she gives you a weak nod as she holds onto her thigh and as one of the medics gets to the two of you, you’re informed she strained her quad and would need to get subbed off. When the brunette attempts to limp off on her own you chase after her and allow her to lean most of her weight on you. One of her hands lands on your stomach and Ona stumbles over her feet as she feels your muscles flex under her palm. Her eyes widen as they stare at your jersey clad front and she tries to play it cool once she realizes she is caught staring.

It isn’t only Millie and Vilde smirking at her, but also Maya, Ella and surprisingly yourself too. Though just before she could open her mouth to stutter out an excuse the two of you reach the sidelines and you leave her there with the medic, only after you’ve given her shoulder a quick squeeze.

For the remaining six minutes of the match and added injury time Ona watches in amazement as you transform into a damn tank, practically bulldozing over the other team as you try to create as many chances as humanly possible. 3 more goals later the game ends in a 12-0 victory for the Red Devils and Marc is jumping up and down in ecstasy as he grabs you and Alessia in a bone crushing hug before he moves onto the rest of the girls.

Your eyes are already set on Ona but just as you are about to make your way over a small hand tugs at your arm. You look down curiously at the Maltese mascot, giving her a gentle look when she smiles at you shyly.

“I can have your shirt?” you have to lean down to her level to hear her request muttered in broken English, but you nod at her, flashing her a big smile. She squeals in excitement, lips splitting in a wide grin as you pull your shirt off and hand it to her. She pushes a marker into your hand, yourself laughing at her enthusiasm as you sign the shirt and you send her on her way with a ruffle of her hair.

The smile stays on your face as you get to Ona and Ella doesn’t waste a second to comment on it.

“Miss tough is showing happiness? Would you look at that” her teasing isn’t meant to be offensive, but you drop the smile in a way that has her baking away with raised hands. She buys your joke as she leaps onto Alessia and commands the blonde to escort her to the changing rooms. Finally, you reach the girl and check up on her.

“How is your leg?” Ona is completely deaf to anything you say as her eyes roam over your upper body, taking in your athletic build. Her stare lingers on your full shoulders and biceps, her mouth watering and she chokes on her saliva once she spots your abs. There’s an amused glint in your eyes and you glance back at Millie in question, but she’s doubled over and laughing loudly at the brunette in front of you. You shrug at their behaviors and instead bring Ona closer to you as you help her walk to the changing rooms.

The Spanish girl’s whole body heats up as you help her out and eventually carry her to your shared room once you get to the hotel. She clings onto your shoulders with a tight grip that has you wondering if Lucia was right and Ona really is aroused by your muscular body.

Much like the past few nights your routine is the same but as Ona hops out of the bathroom and gets under the sheets with a bit of struggle she turns to you expectantly.

“What?” you ask and she raises her head from her pillow.

“I wanna talk to you” she says like it’s the most obvious thing.

“I thought you would be too tired to talk” there’s a silly smile on her lips, one that has you swooning as she invites you to her bed.

“To you? Never” it is no secret that the two of you have become extremely close during the past week, the pair of you glued to each other's side, a rather unexpected friendship and you hope the defender hasn’t yet noticed your less than platonic feelings for her.

She shuffles over in the bed and pats the space next to her, urging you to climb under the blanket. Once you settle by her side you take a moment to just look at her. The soft glow of the lights from the street give her already beautiful face an even more angelic look and you melt under the warmth of her own gaze on you.

“Why do they call you soldier?” she breaks the silence, genuine confusion lacing her voice and you stifle a laugh.

“It’s my last name, the name on the back of my shirt.” you clarify and Ona hides her face in embarrassment as you laugh at her. “It’s Saldjer but it is pronounced soldier.”

“It fits you.” she nods towards you and though she can’t see the massive grin on your face she can hear it in your voice. You’ve found yourself smiling a lot more in her presence and you got tired of trying to hide it, she made you feel giddy and you couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” she thinks for a second, another second where you allow your eyes to wander over her freckle littered face.

“That doesn’t sound English though, I mean the spelling.” she points out, hoping to learn another interesting thing about you.

“It’s the Serbian way of spelling, at least that’s what my dad said.”

“You’re half Serbian?” her ears perk up and you hum at her question, though soon she has trouble keeping her eyes open, the game from earlier and the scare of an injury taking its toll on her.

“Go to sleep, Onita, yeah?” just as you’re about to get up from her bed a hand reaches out to grasp your shirt, keeping you from standing up.

“Stay, Y/N, please” there’s no way you could say no to her, especially not with the way she says your name in that sleepy smooth voice of hers and you find yourself curling up by her side as you pull the blanket over the two of you.

You listen to her breathing until once again her hand reaches behind her as she finds your arm she pulls it around herself, effectively forcing you to spoon her. Not to misunderstand the situation, you are not complaining one bit but you’re afraid she can feel your heart beating out of your chest that’s pressed to her back. You hope she’s already asleep. Ona smiles to herself.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” your breath is caught in your throat as you think of how to answer her and you consider just waiting for her to fall asleep, she couldn’t be far from it.

“Y/N?” she turns to you, suddenly the tiredness is gone from her body and you go to pull your arm away that still lays over her side but she grabs it, keeping it in place before you could do so.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you squeak out, cursing yourself for being so nervous.

“Are you sure?” the teasing is clear in her voice, but she means no harm.

“Yes, Ona, like it’s like always like this” you rush out trying to convince her, your breath hitching when she slides a hand up your arm and squeezes at your bicep. “For example today during the game- wait that’s a stupid example- then on the bus -” a soft giggle cuts your sentence short and you exhale in embarrassment.

“You’re telling me your heart is always like this?” her palm is now laying flat on your chest, right above your heart and her eyes soften at the rapid beating. You really do care for her and it has her feeling butterflies in her stomach.

“Mhm, like always” you quickly nod, only stopping the movement when Ona’s hand cups your cheek, her finger running over the small scar next to your chin, right on the curve of your jaw. You instinctively lean into the warm touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“So it’s not because of me?” the defender has no idea as to where her confidence is coming from but the adoring look in your eyes assure her of what she’s thinking.

“I-um..I-” you clench your jaw at your stuttering. You haven’t been like this in years, the last time was when asking out your ex and you definitely weren’t doing that right now so what was your problem. Ona’s thumb rubs gentle circles into the skin of your cheek and you release the breath you’ve been holding.

“Relax Y/N, there’s no reason for you to be nervous around me, I feel the same” your eyes widen comically and you’re about to deny the accusation but you’re too far gone.

“Can I like- on a date? Ask you with me?” the words come out all jumbled and Ona giggles at your flustered state, this time you laugh with her feeling less embarrassed about the situation knowing that she feels the same.

“Let me try” she pokes at your shoulder in a teasing manner and you know you’ve got nothing to hide from Ona, this is the same girl you’ve spent quietly sharing your thoughts with every night before going to sleep this week, you don’t need to be scared of her reaction.

“Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N? Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yes, yeah I’d love to” you beam at her and she scoots closer to you.

You think she’s only going to give you a kiss on the cheek in that real Spanish manner but as you feel her breath on your lips you know what she wants and you’re far less shy about this part. With a final glance in her warm brown eyes that you can just about make out in the dark room you finally close the distance between the two of you and you seal the deal with a soft, loving kiss. Once again you can not help but smile in her presence and as Ona smiles into the kiss too you’re forced to break away.

The two of you are smiling at each other like two crazy teenagers in love but you like the way she makes you feel and you hold onto one another tightly as you both drift off to sleep, Ona snuggled in your arms.

Perhaps you would start smiling more.

#ona batlle x reader #woso imagine #futbol16 #woso x reader

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