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hwaflms · 20 days

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round & round! ★ [ l.dh ]

{💭} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/

[☆] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00’ line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc

[☆] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc it’s me

[☆] wc. 6.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word ‘slut’, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh

[☆] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didn’t mean to abandon this acc 😞 pls be nice i haven’t written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but i’m warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bf☝️ idk how active i’ll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p

even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaemin’s shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.

today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewon’s first time smoking up with everyone. your friends weren’t really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they weren’t sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didn’t, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.

you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (“i can’t keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you aren’t there, and now i’m pretty sure people think i’m either insane or just really fucking lonely”.)

now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didn’t hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.

presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you don’t understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.

“you can never let me have it, huh?”, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun who’s mouth forms a thin line. “i know for a fact you find me funny.”

you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesn’t register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you don’t know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.

swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. “jen,”, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. “did you end up buying more coke?”

“check the fridge”, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaemin’s legs off your lap, muttering a couple ‘sorry’s when he starts to complain about the change in position.

you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.

“you gonna share or no?”, a voice startles you, turning to find haechan’s figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.

“god, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you coming”, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. you’re disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.

“why are you pouring it into a glass?”, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. “now we have to wash two glasses when we could’ve just drank it from the can.”

he’s right, of course, but you’re not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesn’t believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.

out of all of jeno’s friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didn’t really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. “loud and annoying” were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends weren’t special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.

as of right on cue, jaemin’s voice loudly sounds out from the living room, “are you guys fucking in there or what?”.

sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechan’s shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you would’ve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of “i wish” under his breath.

“jeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?”, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.

“dude, chaewon and sieun look like they’re about to fall asleep, let’s do something”, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.

“not…sleepy…”, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieun’s shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.

“sure you aren’t…”, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. “round 2? or 3, I can’t really remember…”

some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechan’s face when it was your turn.

“let’s play a game or something”, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.

“like what?”, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadn’t received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.

“monopoly?”, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jeno’s playfully narrowed eyes. “okay then, big guy, what’s your incredible idea?”

haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.

“okay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, we’re playing spin the bottle”, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.

your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadn’t played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?

it didn’t fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. “what are we, fourteen?”, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.

maybe it was the thc talking, but it didn’t really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldn’t make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldn’t mind getting more familiar with haechan’s lips.

you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (“shut up, y/n, he can’t hear your thoughts…right?”) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. “are you sure you wanna play?”, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.

“no, no, let’s play, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.

much to renjun’s dismay, it lands on him, and it’s almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. “renjunnie, let me kiss you”, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the “you”, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and you’d have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you weren’t clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.

renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.

taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you don’t even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. it’s neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.

while you didn’t exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.

you don’t want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.

“are you okay with this?”

and when you think about, you are. “yeah, i mean it’s just a game”, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.

he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

jaemin’s lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“dude, what chapstick do you use?”, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. “strawberry dream, baby”, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. “never go anywhere without it.”

renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skin’s ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.

the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesn’t exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they can’t claim “no homo” because it was the most homo thing she’d seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.

you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, who’s cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s enough exchanging of saliva for one day”, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, you’re disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.

haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.

“super bad?”, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.

settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.

you’d gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. you’d danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didn’t trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.

“this seat taken?”, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. “what’s up, y/n, you look a little…not present. you still high?”

it’s funny because your mind certainly wasn’t present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. “yeah, i’m still high”, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.

“okay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i saw”, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you weren’t paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesn’t hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but you’re quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.

if he did catch you, he doesn’t mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.

at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you can’t tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.

you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel inside–

no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?

you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you don’t want that, and you want to clear your head. even though you’re feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechan’s watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.

finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you don’t want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. “kissable? lock in, y/n, lock in…”

“who are you talking to?”

you wince but don’t turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. you’ve been gone for a couple minutes and you don’t know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.

“what’s got you so jumpy?”, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time he’s startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason you’ve been so jumpy.

“nothing, i just…god, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dude…”

he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isn’t helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. “what’s happening? you’re usually never like this, we’ve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?”

you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you weren’t having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. “no, hyuck, i’m fine, i just…needed some water”, it’s a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.

“you just seem…off”, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. “no, i just…”, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but he’s just looking at you so intensely. it’s so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear you’re trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. “i…”

“‘i’ what? see? you’re doing it again”, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you’re subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. “you have this look in your eye. like you wanna…”

“…what?”

everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechan’s hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.

“like what, haechan?”, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.

“like you want to kiss me.”

a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter you’re using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because he’s spoken what you’ve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.

“am i wrong, pretty?”

judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, you’d have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if he’s waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ‘no’.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. “i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you”, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like he’s holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like he’s daring you to break eye contact. you don’t. “but then everyone else was kissing you but me.”

normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you don’t know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.

he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldn’t break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.

you’re positively drunk off the feeling of haechan’s lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.

no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a déjà vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.

“you know how bad i wanted this?”, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. “fuck, i’ve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over you…”

you get the sense he’s talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.

you’re putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered ‘haechan’s. “what, baby?”, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. “what do you want?”

your lack of answer doesn’t bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. “need you to touch me”, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.

“yeah? need me to touch you?”, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. “think you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we don’t need everyone outside hearing what a little slut you’re being in here.”

everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friends’ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.

though you didn’t think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechan’s shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. “looks like the little slut can’t follow a simple request.”

even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.

“please, hyuck”, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. he’s quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but it’s cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. “keep. quiet.”

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and you’re both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.

“my pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i would’ve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.”

his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. “can’t believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.”

you’re so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and you’re hoping that it isn’t really as loud as it seems. “you’re so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy today”, he laughs like he’s stating the obvious, and you’d have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didn’t feel so fucking good right now.

you’re aware that you’re close and so is he because you’re clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyone’s outside?”, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isn’t shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.

he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. “that’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.”

your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until it’s too much, whining and wriggling in haechan’s firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of “that’s right, baby” and “my good girl” into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.

in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so you’re now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadn’t just defiled jaemin and jeno’s kitchen. “you feeling okay?”, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and it’s when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.

“wait hyuck, let me–“

as if he’s reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. “we can save that for another time, pretty”, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. “that is, i-if you want another time, of course–“

it’s your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. “of course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.”

your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. “so, so, perfect.”

taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.

the scene you’re greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuck’s dismay. “so you’re telling me i could’ve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?”, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. “i did all that for nothing?”

“i wouldn’t say for nothing”, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. “i might have woken them up.”

“oh yeah, well now you’re going to”, and with that, he’s dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.

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randombush3 · 6 months

Text

ubi amor, ibi dolor

alexia putellas x reader

part one

words: 11455 (SORRY THERE WAS A LOT TO FIT IN)

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks part two x

content warnings: it’s gets a little sad but tbh the next part is the one you should be worried abt 🤘

notes: this one covers 2017-2019. i apologise if it’s a bit jumpy because if i covered EVERYTHING you’d be sat here reading for days. also, this part was so slow to be finished because i abandoned it for ages and only just decided i should probs get to finishing it. the next part is the last one!

It’s about three months later, and there is not a silence that can’t be filled with the sound of Alexia’s voice. You don’t know how to prove this, because you leave none to be filled, instead seeking to occupy every spare second granted by your tour schedule to call her, to text her; to talk to her.

You spend your nights on balconies all over the continent. Your smoking habit is worsening but the excuse of getting some fresh air to do so is a perfect way to weasel yourself out of parties and clubs and late-night chats with your friends. You much prefer to spend your time finding out more about the woman you quickly become obsessed with. She often verbalises her disdain for your disregard for your lungs – something that transcends the language barrier with an overwhelming clarity – but she is glad that you are talking to her either way.

A few times, you go as far as to hop on a secretly booked flight. You never step outside the airport, leaving Barcelona very much stamped in your passport but not on your list of places you have explored, but Alexia is more than content to pursue your hooded figure as you lead her into hidden corners of the arrivals lounge she begins to associate with the racing feeling in her heart when she sees you. Kissing against walls and on hard airport seats is not what feeds most budding romances, but you don’t care. You happily fly to her whenever you have a spare five minutes, and she is more than content to make the time spent physically together worthwhile.

The tour is nearly over. Five shows in three weeks, and then you can traipse back to London to fight off the delayed hangover in the comfort of your own home with meals cooked by your parents to keep you going. One of the worst things about being on the road is the food (or lack thereof), and your athlete gi… Alexia, is unimpressed with your nutrition. You find that she does not agree with most of your lifestyle, yet she seems captivated by it; like she is discovering a different, scarier world, and she can’t close her eyes.

Alexia’s birthday is soon.

She has enough dread for the event to have communicated it far more efficiently than usual, with most conversations needing to be doubled in length to get past the all-too-familiar grunts of unrecognition. The streets of Barcelona are filled with whispers of a women’s league, and she is unsure of the pressure that is starting to grow on her shoulders. A birthday is inconvenient, she claims, though you only laugh.

You tell her about Virgil – she knows you love him, she knows you love most things to do with him – and his famous quote. “Labor omnia vincit,” you say, finding it ironic that you are only able to talk to her right now because you skipped out on soundcheck and a run-through with the backup dancers. “Work conquers all. It reminds me of you.”

Her lilting Spanish laughter fades as she actually thinks about it.

“Es verdad,” Alexia replies, and you are glad to understand. “Quiero ser la mejor del mundo así que ‘labor omnia vincit’.”

“You’re speaking Latin with a Spanish accent.”

“You love my accent.”

You smile. It’s true.

…

It hasn’t settled in Alexia’s mind that you, who calls her whenever you can because you miss her opinions and her jokes and the face that you can picture when she speaks, are the same person as the one she sees on Jenni’s phone as the team crowds round the screen to watch a viral video from your concert last night.

“A birthday present for you, eh, Ale?” Jenni jests, clinging on to Alexia’s admission months ago about her crush on you. She doesn’t know about the reality of it all. No one does, as of yet.

“Who puts them in these outfits?” asks Leila, mildly outraged at the bedazzled lingerie you’d been dressed in. “There’s nothing to them! They might as well go on stage naked.”

“It’s fine. They get hot while they’re performing anyway,” Alexia dismisses, not wanting to delve into your issues with your stylist. Well. Her issues with your stylist, who seems to not care about dignity or have any faith in the world’s imagination. (That, and Alexia is not sure she likes this idea of sharing, though she is aware that nothing defines you as hers.)

“Oh, did they tell you that themselves?” She glares at Jenni, and shoulders her way out of the huddle. It’s not Jenni’s fault that her mood has been easily soured, because tomorrow is Alexia’s birthday and then, the next day, she has to get to Madrid for her national camp. The Euros later this year is going to be in the Netherlands, and her dreams for her country are currently far-fetched. It hurts, and you’re well aware of her misery.

In fact, you are so aware that you are on a flight from Oslo on the fourth of February. It’s too special a day to miss. You have once again abandoned soundcheck.

Alexia receives a text as she slides into her mother’s old car, considering flinging the device out of the window at one of her teammates’ heads after they sang to her at training without the mercy of letting her forget that she is one year closer to the end of her career. At this rate, the career will be full of wasted potential. She is in a terrible mood about it.

And then she looks at her phone.

You have really tried to up your game with the Spanish of late, enlisting the help of a private tutor who Skypes you twice a week with new phrases and grammar that mildly resembles that of a dead language you carry more than a passion for.

You: Estoy aquí!

The only thing she can think to do is slam her index finger on the call button of your contact, nail bending painfully on the glass of the screen.

Your instructions are clear: “Airport. Now.”

She drives.

She drives at an embarrassingly desperate speed, because just over a week is too long a separation and her day has been awful and there is something so magnetic about your presence that she would be going against nature to do anything other than find you. Obviously, find you she does: right in the arrivals lounge, same black hoodie as always disguising your identity. It’s not any busier than usual, and you catch sight of her the minute she pushes her way to the front of the crowd of expectant faces.

With a weary grin, you walk towards her, and she knows that this game is only temporary. There will be privacy close by, and you can speak then.

She turns with a nod, and you follow as she takes the usual route, but suddenly there are fingers intertwined with her own and you are stopping her in front of everyone.

“Feliz cumpleaños,” you say with a pronounced failure and a hilariously concentrated expression. Alexia giggles, and the storm cloud above her dissipates, but the kiss she wants to press to your lips will have to wait. There’s somewhere empty just around the corner, and she tugs your hand to get you to come with her – to match the same haste she has – but you don’t. “Al coche. So we can go to your casa.”

Her eyebrows raise.

“It’s your birthday,” you explain, stepping towards her so that the people around you see a couple instead of two women walking in a vague direction. Alexia swallows, body tingling at your proximity. Her body always tingles when you stand near her like this. “It’s your birthday, so I am here for the night. My flight is tomorrow.”

She understands you entirely.

She all but drags you to her car.

Alexia does not even remember what it’s like to be miserable. She is set alight by your presence, by your lips, your hands, your soft greeting that you whisper in her ear when she pulls away to drive you to her flat. It’s a new place, and she is free from the fuss of her mother.

You smile when she pulls you out, taking your bulging handbag in one hand and grasping yours with the other, and she kisses that smile as she presses you against the mirror in the lift. The bag hits the floor with a thud, your overnight things spilling out because of her carelessness, but you pay the rolling Dior lipstick no mind, too caught up in the way her tongue swirls in your mouth. How her hands grip your waist.

She’s stronger than last time. She gets stronger every day: she is going to be the best footballer in the world. She is dedicated to her sport.

Your palms travel up the back of her t-shirt, cold from the metal you’d previously had them pressed against. Alexia flinches as your fingers brush a particular spot, the skin there slightly raised.

“¿Que pasó?” you ask, head tilted to the side as she draws back, panting. “Are you hurt?”

She examines your eyes. Deeply inquisitive. Full of something that may resemble love in the future.

Alexia smiles – an expression that she wears mostly when she is thinking about you. You watch as she turns around, the lift jerking to a halt as if to hurry up her slow movements. As she lifts up her t-shirt, you eye the tattoos you are aware decorate her back. There are going to be more someday, she has always been clear about that.

And, oh.

You’re not usually so attached. Alexia, it’s apparent, is a complete exception.

She asks you if you like it. You lean forward, and kiss the four words (she must have researched the quote, because you excluded the last when you mentioned it), tongue running over the redness as if you are going to heal the irritation. She moans quietly, more surprised than anything else.

“Do I get the credit for it?” She shakes her head, which you catch in the mirror opposite, and, before you can voice your protest, she is facing the right way again and kissing you as she leads you to her door. “You know, there’s another quote from him that I much prefer to that one. ‘Labor omnia vincit improbus’ is… Do you know the word workaholic?” Again, her head shakes. She backs you against the wall next to her door, lips attached to your neck as you keen under her touch.

She slots her leg between yours, and you forget your next sentence.

It’s a heated kiss. It promises tonight’s activities to you, and you cannot wait for her to unlock her door.

Your lips run along her neck as she jams her key into the lock. You suck and bite, spurred on by the moans she bites back with a clenched jaw. You find it sexy: her determination to get you inside. And it’s her birthday, after all. She deserves it. You have another gift for her in your bag, but she is grateful for this anyway.

“Inside,” she gasps as you smooth your tongue over the newly-created hickey you just gave her, kicking her door wide open and hauling you through the gap.

The flat is pitch black, but Alexia knows it well enough to chuck your bag towards the dining table and have you on your way to the bedroom without needing to switch any lights on. But your hands wander, and she gets distracted. She stops you in the middle of the flat, only half a second into your journey, and her life feels so full (especially when you moan like that). The room feels so full.

The room is full.

The room is…

“Moltes felicitats, moltes felici–” sings (and abruptly stops) a whole choir of Alexia’s friends and family, the lights switching to bathe the two of you in total mortification.

Alba’s hand covers the eyes of her cousin’s six-year-old, whose mouth has formed a perfect circle.

Silence washes over what looks to be a surprise birthday party. One which Alexia was assured yesterday was not going to happen. By multiple guilty attendees!

Alexia looks helplessly between you, her mother, and the shit-eating grin on Jenni Hermoso’s face, remembering herself promptly when Eli’s eyes drop to the placement of her hands on your bum. She almost jumps away from you.

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath, stewing in the terribly awkward silence as Alexia’s eyes only grow wider and wider. “Alexia.”

She breaks from her frozen state, thawed by the husk of your voice.

“Jo…”

The crowd explodes, and you let the tsunami of Catalan wash over your ears. There is so much noise, and so many people, and you can only watch as Alexia tries to answer all of their questions. She shakes her head, nodding at the same time, switching between two different languages to cover the shrieks from Jenni and the absolute bollocking her mother is giving her in front of everyone about dignity and respect. You are famous, says Eli, and you do not need Alexia’s horny motives to embarass you like that.

“She’s a celebrity,” Eli chides with a glare at her daughter, eyes softening as you continue to stare at the sea of faces blankly. You are backed against a wall with nowhere to run. “Alexia, introduce us to your girlfriend. Now.”

“You guys don’t need to be introduced to her!” Alexia replies like a petulant child, nearly crossing her arms and stamping her foot. “You know her name, and you’ve seen her. So you should all leave, really. Mami, I told you I didn’t want a party.”

Eli’s hands fly from her body to halt the departure of the guests as they catch on to how unwanted they are. “No, we are still going to have this party,” she insists. It’s the final decision. “So, go on. Introduce us.” It’s definitely not a question.

You clear your throat, wanting to save Alexia somehow. “Hola,” you begin, and every face breaks out into a beaming grin. “Um. Soy Y/n. Y… soy de Inglaterra?”

“Sí,” Eli says with a swell of encouragement that you can feel from two metres away.

“Alexia,” you plead.

“Guys, this is Y/n. She doesn’t speak Spanish, and she definitely does not speak Catalan, so either you practise your English or we cut the cake Mami has made and then you–”

“I am a big fan!” Jenni squeals, accented words loud and piercing as she surges towards you, sparking the movement of the entire body of people. No one listens to the rest of Alexia’s declaration.

…

There is a reason you are so well-liked, Alexia determines. She can see it as you interact with her family and closest friends. You smile and you listen and you remember things about people that they would deem insignificant. And it helps that you look breath-taking while doing it all.

Sitting at her dining table, Alba on one side, her mother on the other, she watches you flit around her flat with a talent for socialising, charming every person you speak to.

“She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?” Eli comments, noticing the hesitation in her daughter’s expression.

“I don’t know how she feels,” is what Alexia replies, because there is no way you can ignore the emotion she pours into your conversations. It exceeds that of a simple crush or hormone-fuelled desire. “She is incredible. I am me.”

“You are Alexia Putellas.”

“And she at least likes the way you kiss her,” Alba chimes in, her contribution unnecessary but making Alexia blush at the memory. The fact that her entire family saw that, most of them knowing where you were heading, is something she might be tossing and turning about at night for a while yet.

“Your father would love her.”

“I think so too,” Alexia says, chin resting on her palm as the world melts away, your eyes briefly meeting with hers as one of the children giggles at the face you have just pulled behind their mother’s back. A pang of disappointment reverberates in her chest as she grieves momentarily over the loss of her favourite person on Earth, wishing he could have shared the traumatic experience of today. He would’ve laughed so hard at her face when the lights went on.

“She seems lovely, really. Very polite. Is it because she’s English?”

“She is very…”

“I suppose the Latin came from her?” Alba asks with a smirk, prodding the fresh tattoo over the thin material of Alexia’s t-shirt, grinning as her sister hisses in pain.

“Next time, we can go somewhere quieter and talk properly. I know that you’ll be busy when tonight is over.”

Both Alexia and Alba shudder. “Mami!” her little sister groans, suppressing her gag.

“Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, Alba.”

“Never say ‘sex’ in front of me again,” Alexia tells her smug mother.

“Well, never get so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice the balloons taped to your flat number.”

Alexia bolts outside to check, and hates herself when she sees them.

…

“Dance with me!”

You grab Alexia’s hand, pulling her towards you. The party has lasted longer than she’s happy with, and you have seemingly forgotten about what you could be doing. You love to dance. You love music.

The little boy who’d been your partner up until now sticks his tongue out at Alexia, and she reciprocates the gesture. She is the birthday girl, after all.

You don’t understand a word of the music, but the beat flows through your hips as you move them against her. She runs her hands up and down your sides, your tank top now the only layer between your skin and her impatient fingers, hoodie having been stripped off the minute the party became interesting.

“My mother likes you,” Alexia whispers into your ear as you sway in time to the rhythm. Her lips brush your ear lobe, and you shiver despite the growing heat between you.

“This was very much a surprise,” you giggle in response, possibly answering wrong because her Spanish didn’t quite catch.

“Mhm.”

“I can’t wait for them to leave.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “You are not having fun?”

“I am,” you reply with a nod, a smirk slowly creeping into your content expression. She holds her breath, reminding herself of the presence of her family as you grind into her. “But I also can’t wait to fuck you.”

Alexia shudders.

“I will tell them to go.”

They cut the cake.

They sing again, completing the lyrics this time. You are even taught them before-hand, pushed out to the side of the crowd, very much silently told that you currently hold no place in Alexia’s life in comparison to these people. They all love her. You aren’t there yet.

But, she values your presence.

Alexia doesn’t care much about the people here tonight. She sees them almost every day, and she knows they are constants. What she does care about is you.

You, in that tank top. You, with your hair down, face fresh even though your day must have been exhausting. You, with a red mark on your collarbone that no one knows how to point out to you in English.

Soon, everyone is gone, and you are panting underneath her. Her lips capture yours, muffling the groan that comes with the movement of her fingers inside you. Your legs wrap around her body tighter, heels digging into her back.

Her hair falls around you; encapsulating you, surrounding you with only her. Her smell, her taste, her fingers.

You moan as her determination to destroy you becomes apparent. She hits every spot that has been neglected for the past few months, and though it is the first time the two of you are doing this, it’s as if Alexia has studied your body for years already.

She breaks apart from you as you come, your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing against hers. She wants to see your face for the first time. If she had a camera, she would have used it. You look beautiful.

Nothing on Earth compares to the cliff you have just been pushed off, and it is as if you are falling for eternity.

She goes again, and again, and again. She’s an athlete.

She ruins you, but her strong arms hold you together afterwards.

You fall asleep, for the first time in a while, with someone by your side. Whose hands find purchase on her favourite part of you, pulling you on top of her as she whines at your own tired attempt to make her feel good. Alexia whispers that she has been given enough, that she doesn’t need it, and she thinks you fall asleep to the sound of her incomprehensible, breathy Spanish. You cling to her.

…

The tour ends.

You couldn’t be happier. The final show is a blessing, and the tears in your eyes are of joy. You, Gio, and Anya are going home at last.

However, the well-decorated flat you walk into lacks everything possible, because there is no Alexia standing in the middle of the living room. She can’t be here, though you wish things were different. The season has been successful for her so far, and she is busy.

You really miss her. One night wasn’t enough. It will never be enough, and you are starting to realise the gravity of your blushes.

You like Alexia, and you have fallen hard and fast.

“You’re not coming back with us,” your brother says knowingly, skiing beside you down the picturesque blue run in Les Gets. You have come here every year since you were eight. April is a little later than usual, and the snow often turns to slush towards the afternoon – though one could argue that is simply a cue to move onto apres-ski – but it is pleasant to be on holiday with your family. People try to bother you, but it is easier to pretend you don’t see their waves when you have your ski goggles pulled over your eyes.

Your brother coughs, not pleased that you are ignoring him, reducing him to ‘everyone else’. (His ego, far too preened, far too large, cannot handle the idea of that.)

In front of the two of you, your father turns with precision and great technique. You can’t relate: you’re drunk. You have been since this morning.

“Sorry?” Your innocence is pretence and he rolls his eyes behind his Oakleys.

“Your flight. I saw it was booked to take you somewhere else. Somewhere you’ve been going a lot.”

“You’re not subtle.”

“You’re not subtle,” he replies, skis dangerously close to yours. You have to swerve, sending you onto the off-piste section of the run much to your irritation. With the excuse of tackling the jumps, however, you are lucky to evade further questioning, watching as he glides off into the distance, reaching the banner and skidding to a halt to wait for you and your mother. Your mother prefers to drink more than ski. She is always holding up the rear.

When you return to the chalet, bought by your parents a decade ago to solidify their roots in Les Gets, your brother seems to have remembered your conversation from earlier. Your parents have gone out for dinner, leaving the two of you to make something for yourselves. He is glad to have you alone.

“You don’t like lads, do you?” And, in truth, it’s an insightful question by his standards. He cares; he just does not know how to show it.

Pausing the construction of your sandwich for a moment, you allow him to see you for who you are. He’s your brother, after all. “Not at all,” comes your response.

He hums. “Thought so. You’d have gone out with half of England’s football team otherwise. God knows that they don’t mind.”

“England has a women’s team.”

“Gross.” His lips purse as he thinks about his little sister’s love life, and he decides that he would like to know more about Barcelona. “Are you buying a villa?”

“What?”

“Well, you go to Barcelona a lot. Are you buying a villa with the girls? Is that what celebrities do?”

You roll your eyes. “Mum and Dad buy villas. It isn’t just celebrities who splurge on property.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“I wish you’d never become a lawyer.”

He laughs – hearty and deep. His laugh reminds you of dark forests for some reason; tall trees that dwarf your body, but keep you safe nonetheless. “I wish you’d never gotten famous. My life would be so much quieter if half my mates weren’t trying to squeeze something or other out of my connections.” His pride is profound in his misery, and you smile, blushing. “You’re not buying a villa.”

“Well done, genius,” you taunt, assembling your sandwich once again in hopes that the baguette will kill the buzz in your mind. You can’t really think when you’re drunk, and, recently, when there is nothing else to occupy you, your mind wanders to Alexia. What is she doing now? Does she miss you? Is she excited to see you in three days?

It dawns upon his face with an amusing animation. “You’re seeing someone,” he accuses.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “She’d be one lucky girl.”

“One unlucky girl, you mean. I’d better find out who she is and tell her to run for the hills. You’re about two decades overdue for an exorcism, and it shows.” He swiftly appears behind you, despite his lumbering limbs, and flicks your ear as your teeth sink into your dinner. You squeal, pushing backwards to get him away from you. “What’s her name? Who is she? What does she do?”

“She is… classified.”

He reaches for his phone. “I’m going to find a list of Spanish names and see which one turns you into a tomato.”

“She’s still classified.” You prod your index finger into his shoulder.

“Hey.” You retract your finger, surprised by the tenderness of his tone. “You can tell me, you know. You’re my little sister. I really don’t give enough of a fuck to spread it.”

With great shame, you absolutely do not need to be told twice to talk about your favourite Spanish woman on the planet at the moment. He actually has to beg you to stop.

…

Things with Alexia are good.

Not just in terms of your relationship, but in general, too. Walks are more enjoyable, and so are mornings, afternoons, evenings. She likes that you feel comfortable to chill in her flat while she goes to training. She likes that she comes home to you. She likes that you spend your days with a pencil between your teeth, a blank page set out in front of you.

Now that the tour is over, it is clear what comes next. The new album will be the best ever made, you have decided, because you might finally understand the lyrics that you sing. They could resonate.

They will resonate.

Alexia asks you to be her girlfriend when she drops you off at the airport. Your plane is private and she can kiss you goodbye when you agree.

You love being Alexia’s girlfriend. You repeat your new identity over and over as you fly back to London, and it is a mantra that plays on loop in your mind as you get on with life back home.

The girls tease you mercilessly when you spill it. All three of you are on the balcony, though this time there is a joint placed between your fingers rather than a cigarette. Slightly high, more so giddy about Alexia, you confess. They’re happy for you, but Gio can’t help but text Anya later that night.

Gio: Have you seen the new plan?

Anya: What plan?

Gio is sitting upright in her bed, ensuring that her panic is quiet so her new boyfriend does not wake up. Her fingers hover over the keys shamefully, but she has to tell someone and it can’t be you.

Gio: The publicity plan.

It’s at your studio session the next day when all comes to light. Your manager/publicist appears, which is honestly quite rare. She’s not fond of the claustrophobia of the small room, nor the darkness it becomes shrouded in when you, Gio, and Anya are trying not to murder each other.

Dave swivels around on his chair, bored with the bickering. You aren’t sure about a lyric, but they disagree, even if Anya knows you have a better point than the third member of your group.

Your manager clears her throat. “Y/n, may I speak with you? It’s quite important.”

“Do this lyric without me,” you grit out to Gio.

“It’s your solo.”

“I don’t care.”

With that, you follow your manager into the corridor.

They hear your protests from the studio, the shout of frustration piercing through the small gap underneath the door, overcoming the supposedly impregnable sound-proofing.

There are tears streaming down your face upon your return. Fuck her, and fuck him.

Anya and Gio can’t look at you. Their chins dip to their chest as they slump in place, succumbing to the predetermined guilt they discovered last night.

“It’s not fair,” you cry to them as they refuse to turn around, throwing yourself onto the sofa with a heaving sob. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair. She’s going to hate me — she’s not going to love me anymore, and I… I love her.”

Anya’s mouth opens with a sob of her own. She had thought Alexia was a dalliance. She hadn’t realised.

It’s fun to have someone, she knows, but it is painful to love them.

You are clearly not enjoying yourself now.

“You love her?” she asks, though she is sure of the answer as another gasp leaves your body with a chilling desperation.

“Yes, I fucking love her. It was obvious.”

“But you—”

“Because I’m not out!”

“So what did she tell you?”

“They want it to last a few months. Enough to draw the attention away from my aversion to men and his relationship with some blogger.”

Anya gulps. A few months is a lot to endure, especially for the footballer whose heart you’ll be breaking. “You’ve said no, right?” she tries, paling as she grips onto the mic stand, trying in vain to remember the harmony she is supposed to sing. “You’ve told them… You’re you, of course you’ve said no!”

“Of course,” Gio adds, equally in denial.

You can only shake your head.

You were not given a choice.

Telling Alexia is hard, and not just because of the tears running through your words as you try to get them out over the phone.

In Barcelona, her head hangs in disappointment. She is never going to be good enough for you, she tells herself. The world will soon slot you by the side of another celebrity, and you will be pictured together as many times as humanly possible. No one will know that she is the one you call when you need to talk to someone, or that it is her rose that is pressed between your favourite copy of Little Women, saved from Sant Jordi. No one will be any the wiser to the girlfriend you keep in Spain, nor assume that you are visiting the country for a reason other than tourism and partying with your favourite foreign men’s football team.

It goes like this for months.

It sours the second- place finish in the league even more; makes the Champions League semi-final exit soul-destroying; and completely ruins her joy about winning the Copa de la Reina (worsened by a picture of you and him released the morning of the final).

She is still your girlfriend, but she is always one step behind you. She is in the shadows of the crowd when you sell out Wembley for the first time, and is just out of frame in the picture captured backstage of you and your lover embracing. His muscles do not feel the same as Alexia’s, but he becomes a friend, you guess. He isn’t fond of the arrangement either.

Then, when Alexia feels as though she might explode from the jealousy she harbours, she is tested once more as you go radio silent for a day. It’s unbearable. You usually text her every hour.

She misses hearing you greet her with ‘I took a smoke break’. She misses the taste of your lips, and the heat of your breath, and the swell of emotion you cause inside of her when you show her that you really care.

It’s a hard day. The Euros have started, and Spain has won their first two group stage matches. Vilda is terrible as usual, but it is nothing in comparison to the cavity left in her chest where you have carved out your notifications. Alexia has never wished to be distracted from football before, but today is clearly Judgement Day.

“Is this about your girlfriend?” Jenni pesters, mocking Alexia’s frown by exaggerating it on her own face. “She’s not pinging your phone every five minutes and now you’re inconsolable.”

“I have many things to be upset about,” Alexia replies moodily, though Vilda’s earlier berating has had no effect on her mood because it simply cannot get worse. “Our coach is shit, and we don’t get treated like England or Holland does.”

“And your girlfriend hasn’t texted you.”

“Yes, Jenni. She hasn’t texted me.”

She sighs.

Jenni is repulsed by the fire in Alexia’s belly seemingly having been put out. Her grimace is noticeable as she bends down to unlace her boots, glancing around the shoddy locker room, imagining what Alexia claims a few of the other teams have.

“Maybe she’s busy. She is, like, famous. She could be out for lunch with Shakira!”

“No, that was last month.”

Jenni pauses for a moment, awestruck at her friend's seriousness, before collecting herself and trying another approach. “Why don’t we do some shooting practice while you wait for her to call? That way, Spain gets more goals, and you’re…”

She doesn’t get to finish, cut off by the alarming brrrp of Alexia’s phone. Her friend saddens at the volume, pitying Alexia for how loud she has turned her ringer up just in case she had been missing your notification all along.

Alexia swipes her phone up from the bench, and hurries into the toilets.

Throughout the five months you have been dating, Alexia has become increasingly more aware of your intense reactions to emotional situations. You feel when you feel. She admires you for your work ethic, as you do her, because you fly from Barcelona to London and back again, all while writing songs, humming melodies, and holding together your high-profile life. Unfortunately, your determination and tendency to give everything and more has bled into every aspect of your life. And you are a wreck when she finally gets a word out of you.

“Tranquila, cariño,” she tries as you suck in a pathetically shallow breath. She knows exactly how many kilometres away from her you are, and she wishes she could sprint the distance. “Tranquila. What has happened?”

“I… I fired her.”

“Who?”

“My manager.” Alexia’s hand balls into a fist and she quietly celebrates. Well, until you sob again. “I mean, we all fired her. But now we have no manager and Dave is concerned about the structure of our group and the album sucks and it’s shit and HE tried to kiss me yesterday, even though he’s got a girlfriend too!”

“Búa, más slower, por favor. I’m not inglesa!”

Life, even if you are upset right now, starts to look up. You even get to spend a month with her, practising your Spanish (mejor-ing your nivel de español), meeting her family in a more appropriate context, and even watching the first match of the 2017-2018 season. Which Alexia is adamant they will win.

…

She proposes in November; a year after you kissed.

It’s not a hard decision to make. Not when you have built IKEA furniture together, and spent a week in Menorca with her, her mother, and her sister. Not when her English is littered with your vocabulary and references to Virgil and the like, and your family can all shout at you in Spanish because they’ve heard her do it so many times. Not when ‘I love you’ is the easiest sentence she’s ever said. Every minute of her life that she gives you is like exchanging part of her soul for pure, complete bliss.

You’re fucking freezing, and befuddled at the fact that Alexia has requested to take a walk in the park near your flat. Your Spanish girlfriend, the same woman who finds summer too temperate in England, has somehow turned into a snow-lover, even if there is only damp grass and a biting wind. Alexia wishes England had white Christmases, but it’s a myth, she has discovered.

The ring sits in her coat pocket. She chose it with Alba before she left the warmer climate of Barcelona, and her sister did not ask her whether she was rushing into things. It’s not too soon; if anything, she should’ve asked a year ago.

“Fuck me, it’s cold,” you groan as you shiver. She takes your hand, her woollen gloves itchy against your bare skin, but it warms you up. “We could be inside, in bed. There’s a new series we could start, or, I don’t know, don’t you have some football game to watch?”

“I hate watching football with you.”

You part your lips to respond, but she is not lying and she has said it before. Some bullshit about you supporting all the wrong teams.

“Well, I hate it when you drag me out into the freezing cold for no reason. If you want a dog to bring on walks, just say so. We can go to Battersea before you leave tomorrow.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, halting you both near the inky water of the lake you have been circling for the past five minutes. It sucks that her visits are temporary, even if you are technically moved into each other’s homes (she has your keys, you have hers). With the remaining time left before her flight tomorrow at noon, she has worked up the courage to do it now.

It’s like scoring a goal: receive the pass; dribble; gear up for it; shoot.

“What’s wrong?”

Her free hand reaches into her pocket. “Nada.”

“No, you’re acting weird…” You blink a few times as if to adjust better to the dim light coming from the distant lampposts. A plop sounds from the water, and she jumps. She’s on edge.

“No.”

“Yes. Jesus, you haven’t decided to break up with me in the middle of a park at night, have you?” Your question packs an unnerved insecurity, and she feels a little guilty about the suspense. She fiddles with the ring in her pocket, and then she takes a deep breath. “Hey,” you try tenderly. “Seriously, Ale, what’s wrong?”

“Te lo dije. Nothing.”

“So what’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

She sighs, “here,” and she grabs your hand to press it into the soft warmth inside. And there’s a piece of metal, heated by her fingers. With a chunk of rock on top of it. It feels like an engagement ring. You’re probably not getting broken up with tonight.

“Are you proposing?”

“Are you saying yes?”

“Yes.”

“Hòstia.” She frowns, and you consider pushing her into the lake. “I am going to say it now.”

“But you already—”

A quick display of her athleticism, for the muscles exist despite being buried underneath all those layers, and she is down on one knee. Her joggers will have wet patches, and she hates the squelch of the mud beneath her, but she has a perfect view of your surprise. Your tears.

“Bueno. Your brother helped me to… write the speech,” she starts, and her rehearsal is adorable. Although, honestly, you don’t hear what she has to say because you have already made up your mind.

You tell her yes in as many languages as you can.

And she thanks you with breathy moans into your mouth as you guide her towards a bench, and then your flat, and finally your bed.

When you are finished, well into the early hours of the morning she will have to leave, you climb out of bed, missing the firm grip of her toned arms the minute you’re out of it. There is a burning, overwhelming sureness inside of you that you can’t escape. You know it is soon – probably too soon for most – but there is a person out there for everyone, and yours is right in your bed.

Your guitar, slightly dusty from the neglect because of your frequent visits to Barcelona, rumbles when you pluck it from its stand, collapsing into the armchair beside your bed with a groan, feeling the ache of your muscles that only affirm just how good a time you’ve had with your fiancée.

You don’t play anything interesting, but the noise is enough to rouse Alexia from her heavy slumber. She lifts her head from where it has been buried within the silk pillows of your bed, and watches as your fingers pluck the nylon strings with vague allusion to one of your older songs. The weight of her ring – your engagement ring – does not seem to affect your playing: in fact, Alexia realises your hand was naked without it. You hum, fingers beginning to itch for a cigarette the minute the guitar starts to bore you, and she clears her throat.

Her grin is self-satisfied and certain. “Me voy a casar contigo,” she says into the dark stillness of your bedroom.

“I love you,” you reply.

…

Being engaged is fun.

Like, really fun.

You stay in Barcelona in December, hiding from the bitter chill of England. No one questions it, and the absence of a manager grants you so much freedom. The girls pop to the city one weekend to brainstorm a song, but, other than that, you are content to forget your own identity and become Alexia’s fiancée, one of the regulars at the increasingly more popular Barça Femení games (only the team know you’re there, able to see through the caps and sunglasses).

There are still rumours circulating about you and him, though their credibility has lessened ever since he revealed himself to have been in LA for a while. To the world, you’re sort of MIA. They catch you occasionally when you return to London for photoshoots or just to chat with your friends and family, but they get nothing more. Your Instagram posts are few and far between, and the most recent paparazzi picture is of you leaving Gio’s house to buy her a pregnancy test.

When the test is positive, something is tweaked inside of you, and you return to Barcelona – a place that is now your home too – carrying a lead-ish guilt.

Alexia loves her football, and Alexia is obsessed with her career. You are too, but you have done what you can, really. The BRIT nominees will be announced tomorrow, and you know that you and the girls are on that list. You have your fame, you have your money. But Alexia has neither, and she should. Especially when her male counterparts are raised high and mighty on large, golden platforms.

You know just how ambitious she is, and that is why you lack surprise when you enter her flat to find her hunched over her iPad at the dining table, replaying the same twenty-second clip over and over until she has identified every single fault and created a plan to correct them.

She barely registers your presence, but you don’t mind how absorbed she is in her footage. It is nice to make the ever-composed Alexia jump when you slink up behind her, pressing your lips against her neck. She dissolves herself in the fuzzy feeling you give her.

“Hola,” she says, regaining control when she spots another mistake, grasping her pen tightly as she scribbles down Spanish words you can’t be bothered to read.

“Hola,” you reciprocate, though you are a lot more enthusiastic about it. “Tengo una pregunta.”

“Oh no.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she relaxes. Your ring reflects the light from her screen as if to remind her that you are hers, and that softens her previous sternness slightly. Another kiss to the skin behind her ear, and she is more open to talk.

Clicking your tongue, you think of where to start. “Okay, first, I have news.”

“About Gio? Is she okay?”

“She’s… pregnant.” The emergency you were recalled to London for was actually a pleasant surprise for her and her boyfriend. You’re unsure about how committed they are to each other, and whether a baby is a great idea, but you held your tongue when Anya shook her head at you.

“Uf. Pobrecita, ¿no? She loves tequila.”

“She does love tequila,” you agree with a chuckle. You extend your hand slightly and press pause on the footage. Alexia pushes back against you. Her chair scrapes against the wooden floorboards, but there is a gap between her and the table now. She motions for you to sit in her lap.

She tilts your chin up and kisses you gently: a welcome home kiss. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor?”

“What would you do if I told you that I was pregnant tomorrow?”

“I would ask you if you have been cheating on me with a man,” she replies instantly. You laugh, head falling forwards, resting on her shoulder. She runs her hands up your sides, fingers firm, thighs tensing underneath you.

“But hypothetically. If it were possible,” you continue, a smirk working its way onto your lips, guilt forgotten. You may have spent your plane journey scrolling through pictures of Alexia with the various babies in your life. It was a self-indulgent act, and it has very much led you to now.

Her eyebrows furrow with the adorable crinkle in between them, and she is seriously trying to work out if she is missing something. You go to London, you come back, you want a baby?

But she loves you. And she is very intrigued.

“Is it mine?”

“Yes, it’s yours.”

She watches the smirk on your face blossom into a smile, and she feels a matching one tug her lips upwards. “Is it going to support España or England?” The latter is pronounced in your accent, and you make a mental note to ask Jenni if she has been doing impressions of you to her teammates.

“It can choose when it’s older,” you say, waving off her stupid football question. Since dating her, your interest in football has decreased. She has sort of put you off. You only really watch it to watch her now, or when United are playing an interesting game and your father is antsy enough to text you every minute.

“No, it can’t.” You blink. She pulls you into her. “It chooses now. Spain or England, and Manchester United or Barcelona. There are right answers.”

“Manches–”

“Wrong! I think I will have to make sure the baby is not brainwashed.”

You panic for a moment. “Wait, you do know I’m not really pregnant, right?!”

Alexia is not the most ready for children, but she is always prepared to give you everything you want. “If you want a baby, mi amor, let’s make a baby. Sin chicos.” You giggle coyly as she hoists you up – the display of strength exuding an unbearably sexy cockiness. “And after,” she says in between kisses as she stands, “we can look on the Internet for options.”

“¡Vamos!”

…

The Barcelona women’s team congas its way back into the Home team changing room of the Joan Gamper, following a 7-0 win. Alexia kicked off the goal-laden game in the sixth minute, and she is on cloud nine. Victory is the sweetest taste in her mouth, and one where she knows you are watching is even better.

Mapi flicks her shoulder as they dance to the music bursting from someone or other’s speaker. “You’re so happy,” she says, her grin wide and eyes shining. They dance topless, most of them, but Alexia has subtly been rushing to get dressed and find you. Barcelona is a beautiful city, and she has promised that you can take her to dinner somewhere now that your morning sickness has subsided and only started to affect you when it is supposed to.

“We just won,” she explains over the shouts of joy from her teammates.

María León joined from Atleti this season, but she has known Alexia longer than that, and she can tell when there is something more to football in her emotions. Though it is a well-kept secret, Alexia has two obsessions, and you are one of them.

“Yo sé. But you have been very happy recently, in general. Except, you don’t come out for team nights or hang back to practise more after training, so it is definitely to do with Y/n.” Alexia’s absence in her teammates’ lives is actually unusual, seeing as you are very encouraging and a firm believer in the ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality. Your urging is what sends Alexia to bars and clubs with the girls, though she has neglected all of these outings ever since you showed her your positive pregnancy test (best belated birthday present ever). “So… what’s going on?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“I’m interested. I love her, and I want to know how she has made it so that you haven’t had a bad day for the last three months, even when we lost to Bilbao. Is it sex? Does she suffer through–”

“No!” Alexia interjects, cheeks reddening. Mapi smirks at the twenty-four-year-old, proud to have embarrassed her. She still claims that she is not a prude. Her phone buzzes on the bench – you’re asking how long she is going to take.

Mapi swipes Alexia’s clean clothes from her grip, holding them behind her back as she giggles at her friend’s exasperation. “Tell me, or go outside like that.”

“Good thing it’s May,” Alexia shrugs, grabbing her phone and bag, knowing you won’t at all mind spending time with her in just her sports bra. She is pulled back by Mapi, who has hooked her finger into the waistband of Alexia’s shorts and yanked hard enough for them to have stretched.

“Ale, tell me.”

“No. You’re a gossip.”

“I’m not a gossip.”

“You so are.”

“Am not.”

“So it wasn’t you who told Leila about Patri’s crush when I made it clear that we weren’t even supposed to know?” Mapi shifts uncomfortably, letting go of the shorts. “And it definitely wasn’t you who let everyone find out about my engagement because you don’t know what an inside voice is?”

“Hey, you never specified that you were going to be sneaky about it!” she defends, as she has done ever since the entire canteen went silent in shock and then, two seconds later, broke out into a clamour of pleas to be bridesmaids and to get Bad Bunny invited to the wedding.

“It was implied,” Alexia shoots back with a glare.

“Fine. Be annoying. I’ll just ask Y/n.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s got better things to do.”

“Ouch,” Leila says, patting Mapi on the back as she shoves her way into the conversation. The two are partners in crime, and Alexia hates that she is now outnumbered. “But tell us. Please, Ale.”

“We’ll even not nutmeg you for a week.” They love to try. It’s their highest priority mission.

“A month,” Alexia negotiates.

“Yes! Just tell us.”

“Y/n is pregnant.” Three months down the line is not necessarily when she wants to announce her personal business to the entirety of Spain, but you both know that it’s safe to tell people now.

Mapi laughs. “Ay, Alexia, you don’t have to lie to us.”

She looks at her friends blankly, having not expected this reaction. When she told her mother, the woman at least had it in her to take it seriously (albeit with quite the cautious ‘are you sure?’). “I’m not lying,” she then says, more to Leila than the giggling Mapi in front of her.

“You’re not…?” Leila tries, grappling with it. Two pairs of eyes drift down to Alexia’s crotch, squinting at the material as though some previously concealed appendage is going to jump out at them.

Alexia clears her throat.

“I’m sorry. How?!”

“The normal way most lesbians–”

“She’s, like, actually pregnant? Like, de verdad, she is pregnant?”

“Or she’s smuggling a lime under her shirt.” Her nod is small and she has the glimmer of a smile on her face despite Leila and Mapi’s gobsmacked expressions. Her phone buzzes: it’s you again. “And, if you two don’t mind, I don’t want to leave her waiting for me outside.”

“Because she’s…”

“Exactly.”

When she finally escapes the changing room, she climbs into her car. With heartbreak from both you and your dad, you have sold your i8 in favour of getting Alexia a Land Rover. Most of your money is in savings. You earn loads, but it is hard to find things you want to spend it on, and a lot of it goes towards private jets to get you to and from Alexia.

You are sitting in the passenger seat. “Jugaste bien,” you say as her hand moves up from its instinctive resting place on your thigh, settling on the growing swell of your stomach. “I’m so hungry. I could eat a horse.”

“A horse?”

“Or a house. Or, I don’t know, an entire cavalry. Feed me.” Her alarm — a mistranslation — causes her to almost run over the steward directing her out of the car park. “Tengo mucha hambre, Ale.” She nods with a roll of her eyes. She’s been warned about pregnant women.

…

In the bustling excitement of Estadi Johan Cruyff, which has slowly filled with more and more fans in the time you have known the plastic seats and improving pitch, you find yourself in the midst of an unexpected turn of events. With your due date approaching and Alexia’s insistence that you are surely made of glass, you have been forced to part from your sisters (Gio and Anya) and live in Barcelona. She wants the baby to be born here. You’ve negotiated that the next one will be had in London.

Alexia’s mother notices the deep breath you take in, well-acquainted with the horror on your face having worn that same expression twice before. ¿Estás bien?” she asks you, the steadiness of her voice comforting to the flurry inside your head.

The whistle blows and the game kicks off. This can’t be happening now.

It’s too early. There’s a… What are they called? Braxton-hicks?

“Sí,” you affirm with a curt nod. The not-contraction doesn’t hurt that much, you tell yourself. You settle in the seat and focus on the match in front of you, using the rhythm of the crowd’s cheers (it can now be called a crowd!) to keep you grounded. With a reassuring smile, Eli offers you her hand. You take it and try not to crush her metacarpals.

It’s definitely possible that you are in actual labour, considering the increasing intensity of your contractions, but you are not about to leave the match. Alexia would notice your absence. This game is important for her team – it’s the last before the Christmas break.

At halftime, Eli quietly reassesses you, tricking you into seeing the team’s medic when guiding you to the ‘toilet’. Already briefed on the situation, the medic asks you a few questions in accented English, much like that of your newly trilingual fiancée. “Don’t tell her,” you beg quietly through a huffed sigh, gladly taking the seat offered to you. “I’ll wait until it’s finished.”

“There is another hour left.”

Your ears burn and another contraction shoots through you. You shake your head, fending off the pain while you do so. “He can’t be a Barcelona fan,” you insist. Eli grins at the knowledge that her first grandchild will be a boy, but you do not see it, too focused on convincing the medic to keep the child’s other mother in the dark about what is currently happening in the Barcelona medical room. “I’ll wait.”

Eli hands you your phone per your request. You call Gio, whose daughter is only two months old. “Don’t tell me,” she starts when you fail to greet her. The sound of her voice, her accent, her tone is relieving, though you are incredibly grateful for the woman who continues to hold your hand as though you are her own daughter. “Nah, nah. Where are you? I’m gonna jump on a flight, alright? I’ll call Anya and we’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t… rush,” you groan.

“Babe, we are going to rush. Where are you?!”

“A match!” You try to remember the breathing exercises you learnt for this exact moment. “Her match. Second half’s only just started. She… She doesn’t know.”

Gio’s loud, boisterous laugh rings out, and you can tell that she is not at home. No one with a newborn baby can afford to make noise at that volume. “Fucking hell. Ever heard of sense?” You don’t respond, embarrassed that you are in too much pain to think of a comeback. “I’ve left Mia at my mum’s, so don’t you worry. Want me to bring anything from home? Cadbury’s, maybe?”

“One of those massive bars?”

“Yep, done deal.” She pauses. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna ring Anya now, alright? Call your mum – or your dad, if you two haven’t yet made up. I’ll see you soon. Tell Alexia her baby’s on the way!”

Your protests are cut off by the final beep of her hanging up, and your head drops back as another contraction, your body squeezed as though some giant rubber band has just snapped back into place. Eli stands up, worried now.

Before you can tell her that you are alright, a gush of water hits the sterile floor with an unnerving splatter. The prospect of having to care for another life suddenly becomes very real. “Tenemos que ir al hospital.”

“No.”

“Soy la abuela. Yo sé que hacer.” Even the medic, who has nervously stayed by your side, much more experienced with ACLs than broken waters (and stubborn pregnant women), looks intimidated by the firmness of Eli’s words. “Por favor”: she softens her blow.

You glance around the room, slowly descending into agony and helpless against the wrath of rationality from your fiancée’s mother. “How long’s left of the match? ¿Cuántos minutos quedan?”

The medic holds up all ten fingers. You grapple with your body, begging the baby to sit tight for a moment. “Let her finish. We can go when the whistle blows.”

Your contractions get closer together.

Eli’s frustration leads her to ask God for the baby to not have inherited your stubbornness. She also loves you more for it; admiring your insistence to keep Alexia from missing everything.

You don’t call your own mother. You simply type out a shaky text to the family group chat; blunt and to the point. ‘Baby. Now.’

Half of your universe storms the web, booking flights to Barcelona. Anya and Gio are almost at the airport already — a few steps ahead of your panicking parents and your brother, who has been enjoying dinner at the Savoy with his clients. Those who serve as your planets, revolving around you like you are the sun, do you a favour, letting Dave know that you probably won’t make it to the Skype call scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dave, in turn, now expanding into management, informs your newly-hired publicist (good riddance to the old one). The world has expected a pregnancy announcement ever since you failed to appear at your most recent awards show, despite winning in your category.

It's almost an eternity later that Alexia, football boots clacking against the floor, flings open the door of the medical room. Eli calls out, warning her daughter about slipping on the sizable puddle that has spread out beneath you.

Your fiancée is valiant in her attempt to mask her sheer panic.

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asks her mother, stepping over your amniotic fluid and placing her hand on your shoulder. You squint, trying to open your eyes though this contraction has been the most excruciating so far.

“We were waiting for you. She was adamant that you finished your match.”

“No football match is more important than her!” If you understood Catalan (and weren’t in labour), you’d have teased her for being a sap. “Call an ambulance, Jesus Christ. Look at her — she needs a doctor.” Her composure revisits her fleetingly, and she turns to the medic. “Thank you for looking after her.” There is no answer because it is drowned out by her barking more orders her mother’s way.

“No ambulance,” you declare before your mouth opens in a silent sob. “Drive me. Not an ambulance.”

The last glimpse the Estadi Johan Cruyff gets of Alexia Putellas in 2018 is her carrying you to her mother’s car, your face buried in her team-issued jacket in case anyone is waiting outside to take pictures of the players.

Eli drives; something she doesn’t like doing often but feels is necessary with the nervous bounce of her daughter’s legs in the backseat enough to convince her that they’d speed like the Flash if anyone else ended up behind the wheel. She knows Barcelona, can navigate it with her eyes closed, and you are at the hospital before you can begin to tell Alexia how much you think you can’t do this.

“I really fucking can’t do this!” you cry out, situated in the delivery room. Sweat rolls down the side of your face, already dampening your hair. Alexia thinks you look beautiful, and she has been made proud of the last two hours. You’ve also helped her a lot with English swearwords.

“You can.”

“I can’t.” You’re told to push again. “Alexia, you are having the… next… fucking… beach ball.” Each word is punctuated by a guttural moan.

Waves of intense pain contort your face in agony, and the midwife continues to talk you through your task as though instructing you how to park a car. “Estás haciendo muy bien, mi amor,” she tells you, ignoring the possibility that you may have rendered her left hand boneless.

“There’s a baby coming out of my vagina,” you shout, “don’t even try to test my Spanish, you twat.”

The midwife shoots your fiancée a pitiful look. “She’ll take it back,” she says in Catalan.

“She’s getting quite inventive.”

“There’s been worse.”

You can imagine the conversation taking place in the middle of you delivering her literal child. “No, I won’t! It’s breaking me in half.” You grip her hand harder. “Never. Again.”

But, with a final, visceral (and heavily encouraged) push, the room is filled with the sound of life. Nico comes into the world screaming at the top of his lungs. All Alexia can think to say is, “definitely yours.”

…

Life is a lot more tiring trying to juggle being a mother and a pop star.

The press have a field day when you announce the birth of your son with a simple Instagram post, your engagement ring second only to the swaddled lump on your chest. The caption (‘ours’) sparks debate on who exactly is the other parent. Well, father. Alexia’s teammates, while waiting to finally be allowed to meet your bundle, spend a good two months teasing her mercilessly about it. Most notably, Alexia almost loses La Reina to Papi.

2019 comes with change — a lot of it.

You hire a new manager so that Dave can focus fully on the last album 2sday will produce. The group has been together for six years, and you have made your millions.You seek neither money nor fame, but it comes knocking on the door of your quaint apartment in Barcelona anyway, along with a record deal only for you. A solo act.

Between Nico crying, Alexia playing football, and you trying to write songs that don’t end up criminally depressing, the contract on your dining table slowly becomes forgotten about. Alexia is too stressed about the impending World Cup to grant you a moment to breathe. You spend your days in Barcelona with a baby attached to your hip, the question of his parenthood still a mystery to the public, and, ever so slowly, you begin to resent your life.

It could be postpartum depression, but you have no time to really investigate the symptoms.

Alexia, two weeks before she needs to leave for her national camp and then the World Cup in France, comes home to an eerily silent apartment.

She calls out your name, wondering if you have perhaps gone to her mother’s house. The terrible sinking feeling comes with your reply. “Can we talk?” you ask.

She finds you perched on the Egyptian cotton sheets that cover your double bed. The sheets are out of place here, greatly exceeding the original budget of the decor, and, where Alexia sees this as you adding to her life, you feel you are somewhere you don’t belong. It is fine when she is next to you, holding your hand, claiming the other half of the now six-month-old baby boy gurgling in his carseat. When she isn’t there, though, the vacant space taunts you.

“I have no friends here,” you tell her quietly. The gravity of the mood settling over you pulls her onto the mattress, not caring if the sheen of sweat she wears as her outermost layer of clothing dirties the expensive creamy white beneath her. “I have no friends, I don’t speak the language, and I think that I have played at being a normal person for long enough. I mean, it’s great to watch you and to be there for you, but, darling, that’s not who I am. This,” you gesture to the loungewear you have on, stained with dribble, “is not who I am.”

Alexia hears what you are saying. She understands; she remembers the nights where you’d call her, a cigarette rasping your voice, sparkles shining in the valley between your breasts. She has seen this coming. It would be impossible not to notice the dimming of such a strong love between you: still present, yet slowly fading away.

“They want me to sign a new deal. Alone.” The suitcases lined up in the corner of the bedroom become glaringly obvious. Nico is in his carseat for a reason. “I think it would be good for me to go back to London. I need to feel like myself again, and my parents are willing to watch him. I sold my flat – I’ve bought a house in Highgate.” Tears sting your eyes as you speak, and you know where Alexia’s shoulder is without having to look, resting your head against it. “I love you. I love you so much, but I just can’t do this anymore.”

It’s as if the ground crumbles away beneath her. Your words hang above Alexia’s neck like an axe, waiting to execute her, waiting to end everything. She can’t look at Nico, whose face crumples at his mother’s clear heartbreak.

The world, once vibrant, lays in ruins. Her funny story from training dies on her tongue, and her question of whether you wanted to visit her mother before she left for camp disintegrates, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asks, and you hate the way her voice cracks with uncertainty. “Are you moving permanently?”

“I haven’t called anything off. It’s still going ahead as planned.” She senses the but. “But I… I can’t think here. I can’t be here. I want – I need – to go home.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

She is going to be at the World Cup anyway. You and her will always find your way back to each other. She is going to be busy.

She is going to be busy.

“Yeah. It’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

She is going to fall apart without you.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona

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itgetsdark-x · 1 year

Note

ok but pre-outbreak Joel gets a cute young new neighbour and she’s a camgirl (pretending it’s more modern day and the technology exists lol) but he doesn’t know and one day she asked him for help with fixing something so he actually sees the inside of her house. And then later on, at night he’s trying to find something good 👀 for happy Joel time (bc his cute neighbour in her way too short shorts got him a lil hot and bothered) he comes across her doing a live cam show and he’s like “oh shit.. I know that room. And that ass..) and he realises it’s her and he just has to join in and see what’s going on and it just gets smutty.

And in the end he somehow reveals it’s him in a discreet non creepy way and she’s like yeah i know *wink wink* just really flirty and stuff! There could even be another part eventually where they actually get together and smuuuut!

This idea has been in my head the last few days but I’m not a good writer.. and you’re such a good smut writer 😭😭

A/N: oh my sweet anon, I am so sorry this took so long!! I may or may not have got carried away with this and rolled it all into one piece… so have this monstrous 7.1k word oneshot 🥹

Warnings: 18+, minors dni!! fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (do better!), use of the word daddy, implied age gap (everyone is of legal and consenting age!), probs more I’ve missed. It’s just porn tbh people!

Word Count: 7.1k

Characters: Joel Miller x Cam Girl!Reader (f)

You waved sweetly, blew a kiss to your laptop screen and ended the stream after saying a final goodbye to your viewers. You closed down your laptop and reached behind you, on your bed to grab your T-shirt and shorts. You stood up from your spot on your bed, stretched your back with a groan and threw your baggy T-shirt on over your naked torso and shimmied your tight gym shorts over your bare legs.

You had moved back to Austin a few months ago with your parents, things had ended badly with a previous partner and it meant moving back to the city to be closer to them. Your parents majorly helped you out, hence why you were able to afford the comfy house you lived in, deep in the suburbs.

Your house was next to Joel Miller’s, he was a devoted single father to his daughter, Sarah, who was in her mid-teens. You would sometimes look after Sarah if her sitter ever cancelled last minute and you loved it, it was like having a little sister, she would often come round and ask for advice on clothes, boys and sometimes, homework, when she trusted you enough to know the subject.

You kept a fair distance from her dad, he was a handsome male in his late forties, potentially pushing older and sure, you thought he was super handsome but it wasn’t a line you particularly wanted to cross due to the implications and mess if you did, so you stuck to yourself besides your interactions with Sarah.

To help pay your rent and keep food on your table, you had a part-time job at a local store but the main source of your income came from your online presence. You performed on an adult-only cam site and offered subscriptions for your content. You had somewhat gained traction on the site and it left you living fairly comfortably, especially with your parents help. No one around you in your day-to-day life knew about your online presence and you preferred to keep it that way, it was the twenty-first century and sure your parents may have understood, you just preferred to not talk about it with them.

You walked downstairs, your makeup was still on but you had pulled your hair up away from your face. You had gone to get a snack after a two-hour long show, you had given your midday viewers a special treat as you normally only performed in the evenings / later at night as that’s when the money seemed to roll in easier. You ate a bagel with cream cheese and sighed to yourself as you scrolled through your phone, you clocked the time and noticed you had four hours or so until you had an evening stream booked. You needed a hot bath to clean yourself up after this afternoon’s one and a nap also sounded amazing.

With that in mind, you wandered back upstairs and switched your taps on in your en-suite and awaited the water to warm up. You waited five minutes and the water was still icy cold, you rolled your eyes and pulled your clothes back on.

“Fucks sake.” You huffed angrily and stomped downstairs to pop next door.

Joel was a contractor and all-round handyman, sure he wasn’t a plumber but he would most definitely have a better idea of what was going on and he would most likely be able to fix it. You walked down the driveway of your house to head to Joel’s; the cool summer breeze pricked your skin, goosebumps rose on your arms and legs and your nipples hardened under the white fabric of your T-shirt.

You brought your hand up and knocked on the door once, you looked down at your appearance and suddenly felt self-conscious, you pulled your arms across your chest to cover your nipples and shifted on the spot as you awaited someone to answer the door.

“Oh, hi darlin’.” Joel said, smiling through his confusion as to why you were here and knocking on his door. “Sarah is at a friend’s for the night, she’s been beggin’ me to let her have a sleepover so I gave in. Were you looking for her?” He asked softly.

You tracked his eyes, they started from your flip-flop clad feet and followed the shapely lines of your bare legs before they hungrily raked over your torso and found their way back to your own eyes. You swallowed roughly and pulled your arms tighter around yourself.

“Uh, I was actually looking for you…” you started. “I’ve got somewhere to be in a few hours and I need a bath, my taps aren’t running hot. I was wonderin’ whether you could come over and take a look?” You asked nervously.

“Oh sure! It’ll probably be a simple fix, let me grab my tools from the truck and I’ll be right over.” He smiled and closed his door behind him.

He grabbed his toolkit from the back of the truck and ushered for you to lead the way back to your house. Joel watched as your hips swayed as you walked, the stretchy fabric of your gym shorts clung to your hips, ass and thighs perfectly. They rode up your behind in the most teasing way and Joel mentally cursed himself for imagining what laid underneath the material.

“Hot date tonight then?” Joel asked innocently as you walked him up your stairs.

“Ha. Yeah. Something like that.” You laughed awkwardly, god if only he knew.

You opened your bedroom door to Joel and let him walk into your room. “Yeah, just through that door. I’m useless with this sorta stuff and normally I would call my dad but he’s at work and I noticed your truck in the driveway…” you mumbled and stood in your bedroom awkwardly.

You looked around your room, just scanning the area to ensure you hadn’t left any of your toys out from your stream and you felt your cheeks immediately glow when you noticed your vibrator sitting by your pillow.

Joel was humming as he took your bath panel off to inspect the plumbing work under the ceramic and you took the opportunity to push the vibe just under your pillow. You went over to the bathroom and leant on the door frame; you couldn’t help but admire the older male’s biceps as they flexed as he toyed with the temperature valve under the bath. He fiddled around for fifteen minutes or so until the water ran hot, the water immediately steaming in the air.

You grinned at him as he called out ‘gotcha’. “Joel! You’re a hero, thank you! I owe you a pack of beers, I’ll get them over to you at some point this week, I promise.” You enthused and clapped your hands.

Joel sat up from his position, clicked your bath panel back in place and switched the taps off. He looked at you and dusted his hands off on his jeans, as you clapped he couldn’t help but notice the way your breasts squeezed together under your shirt. He could clearly see that you weren’t wearing any underwear, your nipple’s colour showed through your white T-shirt and he felt his cock twitch in his boxers at the sight.

“Don’t be silly, darlin’. I’m just happy to help out a neighbour in need. Plus you look out for Sarah, I owe you a lot more than sorting out a couple valves under your tub.” He laughed and threw his spanner back into his tool bag.

“I love Sarah! She’s like a little sister to me, I just hope I’m not a bad influence on her!” You giggled and watched as Joel packed up his tools.

“You a bad influence? I doubt that very much, sweetheart.” He smiled softly and you let him pass you back into your room. He looked around your room and admired your decorations. “I like what you’ve done in here, looks real nice. You do this yourself?” He asked and toyed with the material of the canopy that hung above your double bed.

You nodded proudly. “Yeah, well, my dad helped me a little but I always get impatient and end up doing it myself just so it’s done.” You chuckled and he looked around before clapping his hands awkwardly once.

“I should uh, let you have your bath in peace. Unless you need anything else from me?” Joel asked causing your eyebrows to rise in shock. “No! I meant um, sorry darlin’! Didn’t mean to sound so dirty with that suggestion, I mean do you have anything else that needs to looking at around your house?” He corrected himself and you laughed softly at him.

“Oh, of course you didn’t.” You mumbled, an edge of disappointment lacing your voice. “Well, my facets and pipes under the sink, downstairs are a little loose and leaky. If you wouldn’t mind tightening them, I would be really grateful.” You smiled softly and after Joel gave you a nod, you lead him downstairs into your kitchen.

You bent down to move your cleaning supplies out of the way and Joel swore his heart almost stopped, he could clearly see the outline of your ass and your privates as the lycra clung to every one of your curves. You stepped back and let Joel work again.

“Joel, can I please be really rude and excuse myself to go and take that bath? I need to clean up before I’m needed elsewhere. I really appreciate your help with this all and please feel free to let yourself out. I’ll pop by tomorrow with some beers!” You said sweetly.

“No worries at all, I won’t be long at all, sweetheart. Please don’t worry about the beers, it’s my pleasure. Honestly.” Joel spoke from under the sink as you left the kitchen to go back to your en suite.

Joel continued to work on your kitchen sink, it was a short job and he was soon finished. He heard the water stop running upstairs and once again, he scolded himself for letting his filthy thoughts run away from him. He imagined your body slipping into soapy water, the bubbles clinging to your breasts, your perky nipples inviting him to suck them into his mouth and your perfectly round ass glistening with the soapy water. He groaned to himself as he picked up his toolkit to leave, he briefly palmed his half-hard cock in his jeans and he was feeling so thankful that he had the house to himself that evening.

Whilst in the bath, you laid back into the enticing warm water and you let your thoughts run away from you. You imagined how Joel’s calloused fingers would feel buried deep in you, working your pussy closer to orgasming. You imagined how it would feel to be embraced by him before he pushed his dick deep into you until you were crying for him to stop. You physically shook your head and swallowed thickly, that right there, those thoughts, that’s exactly why you tried to keep your distance from the older male. He got under your skin and lit a fire deep in the pits of your belly. Silently, you were appreciative that you were so worked up because you knew it meant you would be giving your viewers a great show tonight.

The time soon came for you to start your live stream; you were wearing a lacy pink bra and matching panties; the bra had crisscross straps across your cleavage and your nipples showed through the sheer material.

“Evening guys,” you purred and gave a wave to your viewers. Whenever you streamed you work a masquerade mask to hide your identity and you always put a voice on; it was similar to your own but a little bit lower and more sultry. “How’s everyone’s day going today? I know I’m super excited to be here tonight.” You whined as your fingers toyed with your hardening nipples.

Your set up was simple, you usually sat on your bed at the beginning of streams before moving into all crude positions for your viewers; their comments and tips egging you to go further.

Comments started to flood in and it didn’t take long for you to lose your bra; you kept your panties and stockings on as the garment you chose for tonight was crotchless which mean you could toy with yourself without losing the sexy underwear.

You were laid back, your back was arched off the bed as you plunged your rabbit vibrator in and out, your thoughts swam with Joel and imagining it was him pleasuring you. Small moans tumbled from your lips as the noise of comments and monetary tips filled the room.

You were getting closer to having an orgasm and you didn’t know how long you could hold off for. Normally, when streaming, you would fake it a lot since it was a lot of effort to have orgasm after orgasm, especially for hours at a time; by now you had perfected the faking of one but not tonight. Your fingers pinched at your nipples and you shuddered on your toy as you worked yourself through it. You removed the toy and brought it up to your bare lips, you sucked it into your mouth and moaned.

“Wow, thank you Sunset331 for the $100 tip. I’ll be sure to send a picture your way after the stream.” You purred.

*Handyman47 Entered the Chat*

“Good evening, Handyman47. I hope you enjoy the show!” You called out and turned so the camera had a perfect view of your exposed ass and vagina. You pushed the toy back into yourself and whimpered at your overstimulation as you got right back into the quick rhythm.

—

Joel was frustrated, sexually and emotionally. He needed to relieve some of the stress that had built up this afternoon. He had always found you tempting and attractive but tried his hardest to ignore you whenever you came round. But there you were today, all perfect and tight, he was blinded by his arousal.

He laid back on his bed, his back pushed up against his pillows as he got his laptop out and started Googling adult-only sites that could help him along the way. He stumbled across a streaming site he hadn’t seen before, it looked decent enough so he quickly made an account and clicked onto one of the first streams he saw the thumbnail for.

The actress looked attractive enough for him to take the edge off and he thought somewhere in the back of his mind, that the body on his screen looked similar to yours but he pushed that sinister thought away and assumed it was because you had frustrated him so much earlier that day.

Then he heard the voice from his laptop, “Good evening, Handyman47. I hope you enjoy the show!” It clicked instantly in his brain, his eyes scanned the background of the room and he swallowed thickly.

Joel couldn’t help the way his cock twitched in his hand, he was already stroking himself and then he happened to stumble across you. He watched on as the toy disappeared into your hungry heat and would come out covered in your arousal, he groaned loudly from the back of his throat as his thumb swiped over his cock head and lubricated his length with his own pre-cum.

He knew he should close his laptop down and go and take a cool shower but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of his laptop screen, he looked out his window and could see yours; your curtains were drawn and there was a charming pink glow coming from behind them. Just like in your stream. He was so close to you, yet you had no idea just what he was doing a mere distance away from you or how crazy you drove him.

—

“Oh yeah, just like that daddy. Please don’t stop. Yeah.” You moaned, you had switched positions again. You were on your back and your sticky privates showed directly to the camera. Your juices were creamy and thick as you continued to push your toy into your hole. “Hmm, I think I should change to something bigger. I need a real man to come here and fill me up.” You purred and sat up to read the comments.

Handyman47: I volunteer, darlin’.

Sunset331: on my way, need u so bad

Jungleboy87: show us that needy pussy again. pls

You giggled as you read the comments, your tits hung in front of the camera as you did so but one caught your eye. Handyman47, surely it was a coincidence, no? Joel was around that age, that was his job and the fact he called you darling. Your throat went dry as you pondered the possibility of it being the older man from across the road.

You pushed that thought aside and grabbed your dildo off your bedside table; it was hot pink and a thick 10” in length, your biggest one to date.

“What do you think, guys? Do you reckon I can make it fit in my little hole?” You purred and ran it through your wet folds.

You pressed the tip of the toy into your hole and whimpered at the immediate stretch, slowly, you plunged it into yourself. The stretch of the toy stung and you closed yours eyes, imagining it was Joel filling you out like that.

Comments of encouragement flooded the chat once again and you smiled devilishly as you pulled the toy out to switch your position. You lifted the prop from the floor, it was a large piece of plastic that you used specifically for streaming, it allowed you to suction your toy to it and it meant you could ride it with ease.

“Oh fuck, daddy. You’re so big. Dunno if I can take it all like this.” You whimpered, straddling the toy and slowly pushing yourself down onto it.

You rode your toy, the pleasure already building up in your body and you clenched around it weakly as your thighs burned with the effort.

Joel watched on, his eyes fixated on his screen; he saw the way your tight pussy stretched around the toy and he pumped his cock enthusiastically with each rise and fall of your body. His tip was leaking pre-cum and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he was cumming into his palm over the sight of you fucking yourself.

“Gonna squirt all over your cock.” You shuddered and you meant it, it was how you ended your shows normally; one final blow out for the fans.

Your hand fumbled beside you as it reached for your bullet vibrator. You brought it to your clit and almost immediately you felt your orgasm come crashing through you, your hips faltered as your ground down onto the toy below you. You rose as your felt yourself gush around it, your juices splashed onto the toy and you couldn’t help the way your eyes screwed shut and a loud, shaky moan fell from your lips.

“Fuck, Joel.” You whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He heard it. That was his name. Surely not. Joel watched as you continued to squirt, his cock throbbed and with one final pass of his hand, he came hard. Your name fell from his lips with a groan, he kept hearing the way you whimpered his name as you came on your toy over and over in his head and it made his spent dick jump as he milked himself of every last drop.

You shuddered as you removed the toy fully from yourself and discarded your bullet to the side of you after turning it off.

“Wow guys, I’ve made a massive mess here.” You giggled and slapped your sopping wet core once, the wetness apparent as your fingers tapped lightly.

Comments of appreciation were flooding through your chat and you grinned as you read each one.

“Thank you sooo much for tuning in guys, I won’t be streaming tomorrow but I’ll be back the day after. Thank you all so much for the support. I love you.” You cooed sweetly and blew a kiss to the camera before shutting the stream down to clean up after yourself.

—

You had slept soundly after last night’s stream; it was a busy one. All morning, whilst trying to do some admin work, all you could think of was that one username that stuck out to you… Handyman47. You were sure it just had to be a sick coincidence, your thoughts were clouded by lust in the moment and of course it wasn’t Joel. Why would he watch your stream? He didn’t find you attractive, that would just be ridiculous. That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

You finished up your work for the morning and decided to pop out to the store, to buy the beer you had promised Joel. It was a warm day so you dressed yourself in a sunflower-yellow sundress and flip flops, your hair was tied up messily.

Once you arrived home from the store, you parked your car up and made your way over to Joel’s house to give him the cool beers. It was a small gesture to say thank-you for the help, even if he insisted that he didn’t want them, it was the polite thing to do and you were raised with manners.

You raised your arm and placed a quick knock to the door, you were half-expecting to see Sarah’s gorgeous locks but instead you were met with Joel.

“No Sarah again?” You asked.

“She uh, she wanted to stay another night at her friend’s and well, you know how the kid is, how could I say no?! You disappointed to see me again, darlin’?” Joel joked with a smirk, although, oddly, he barely made eye contact with you.

You shrugged. “Eh, not quite my girl but you’ll do.” You joked and held the beers out for Joel. “Plus, she can’t exactly drink these. Not for a couple years anyway.” You winked.

“Or ever.” Joel replied dryly, catching your eyes this time. He took the pack of beers from you with a smile. “I’m tellin’ ya, you didn’t need to do this for me! It was a small favour. How ‘bout you come on in, we can crack open a beer together?” Joel asked, opening his door wider for you to step in.

“Oh I wouldn’t wanna impose, I bought them for you to enjoy. Don’t feel like you have to share!” You smiled.

Joel shook his head and gently took your wrist, to pull you inside. “Nonsense. You look like you’ve had a busy mornin’ and could do with a beer. Go ahead and make yourself comfy in the lounge, I’ll put these in the fridge and grab a couple.”

You obliged albeit reluctantly, you didn’t mind spending time with Joel but he drove you mad; just being in a close proximity to him like this drove you insane, you couldn’t act on what you wanted and it was torture. You sat down on the couch, crossed your legs and smoothed your dress down, the hem rested comfortably on your upper thigh, just teasing with a glimpse of your forbidden skin.

Joel entered the room and gave you a bottle of beer, you shot him a small thank you before taking a sip. He sat opposite you in his arm chair and let his legs sprawl out widely; he was wearing shorts and a tight-fitting t-shirt, the material hugging his biceps deliciously.

“How was your hot date last night?” Joel enquired innocently, pretending he didn’t know what you had been up to. “I’m sure I could hear you screamin’ from here.” He teased.

You laughed dryly and shot him a deathly glare which only made him chuckle. “Wasn’t a hot date, I was actually um, I was working.” You mumbled and stared into the neck of your bottle before drinking some more.

“That time of night? I thought you worked at that fancy little store in the city?” Joel asked, probing you further. He was treading on thin ice, either you were going to open up about what you were doing or you were going to lie through your teeth. He noticed the way you switched your legs over and shifted awkwardly in your seat.

“I uh — I have an extra job.” You shrugged, keeping your cards close to your chest. Joel had never really spent this much alone time with you, especially not to ask you this many questions. “How’s work going for you, a lot of jobs on at the moment?” You asked just trying to deflect the attention away from your work.

“Nope, you’ve got me intrigued, darlin’. What were you doing? What’s this extra job?”

You cringed, you placed your bottle on the table and hid your face behind your palms. “I — I model and perform on an adult-only site; I do live shows of porn, basically.” You admitted, your cheeks were glowing under your hands.

Joel watched as you hid your face, he bit back a smirk and watched as your embarrassment poured from you; it was wrong to admit, but it turned him on, to see you all embarrassed and flustered.

“Oh yeah, I know the ones.” Joel said casually, taking another drink with a shrug.

You peered through your fingers and your mind shot back to the username. Surely it wasn’t him. No.

“You, Joel Miller, are telling me you’re one of those creeps on the site?” You asked, raising an eyebrow up at him.

“Wouldn’t say I was a creep.” He stated bluntly. “I have needs darlin’, especially when my neighbour drives me mad all afternoon dressed in tight shorts or a sexy little dress.” His eyebrow was cocked upwards, testing the water to see exactly how you would react.

You put your hands on your lap, your mouth fell agape and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat again.

“Oh. I. Um. You?” You mumbled incoherently, your brain not working quickly enough to form an intelligible sentence which caused Joel to laugh. “You — you see anything on those sites of interest?” You asked quietly, your hands smoothing the fabric of your dress more out of nerves than to adjust the garment.

“Saw a nice little show last night…” Joel said quietly, he stood from his seat; you could see the vague outline of his thickening cock in his shorts and your privates throbbed. “Thought I recognised the room…” he said, sitting down next to you. “But then I thought, no, it couldn’t be that good little girl that lives next to me. Not with the way she was performing, doing such a good job at taking in her toys.”

Joel was closing the space next to you, you could feel the weight of his body next to you and his fingers tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. It was a tender movement and it made you shiver physically under his touch. You avoided making eye contact with him, you were sure this was just a joke and he was teasing you for your extracurricular job.

“Look at me.” Joel demanded, his lips were by your ear now, they just ghosted over the area and you shook your head. “Look. At. Me.” Joel said more sternly and his voice was dropped impossibly low.

His hand held your bare knee, his fingers teasing to travel just under your dress and you finally bared to look at him. Your eyes were wide in shock, your chest heaved slightly with your more laboured breaths and small beads of sweat collected on your neck.

“It was you…” you whispered to which Joel just smirked. “Son of a bitch. You’re a dirty old man, Mr Miller.” You teased, still feeling nervous under his watchful gaze and touch.

“Is that why you whimpered out my name as you squirted on your toy? Cause I’m a dirty old man?” Joel asked, his voice dripping with sheer confidence.

“I — no I didn’t.” You huffed.

Joel squeezed the delicate skin of your thigh and you made a pathetic noise from the back of your throat before you tried to swallow it back.

“I heard it.” Joel said smugly. “God, made me cum so hard on myself to hear you calling out my name.” He groaned, thinking back to his activities from last night.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call out your name, I didn’t think anyone heard me. Please don’t tell anyone about my extra job.” You whined as Joel’s hand slid up under your dress slightly, his fingers brushed past your clothed heat and your eyes dipped shut for a second.

“How about I show you how good I feel compared to those pieces of plastic.” Joel whispered.

“Please.” You breathed and bucked your hips upwards, searching for the feel of Joel’s fingers.

Joel silently got off the sofa, you wanted to whine and bring him back so you could feel his large frame next to you again. Before you could react, the older male was sinking to his knees in front of you and was holding your thighs firmly.

“Wanted to taste you from the day you moved in next door.” Joel stated and your cheeks flushed at his admission.

He pushed the fabric of your dress up, you took the hint and was quick to discard it to the side of you. Your breasts were freed from the fabric and Joel groaned deeply as he drank in your naked form. He held your thighs again and he pulled you forward so your panties were closer to his face which caused you to yelp.

“Look at you. Fuck.” Joel cursed as he let one of his fingers trail across the wet fabric of your panties. “You wet already for me? Thought you woulda got it outta your system last night.” Joel teased with a knowing smirk as your shuddered against his gentle touch.

“Are you gonna chat up my vagina all afternoon or are you gonna show me how much better you are than my toys?” You snapped with a bratty smile.

“I won’t give you anything if you talk to me like that. Now be a good girl and shut up for me, yeah?” Joel bit back, his voice full of condescension which admittedly, only fuelled your arousal further.

You rolled your eyes and just as you opened your mouth to argue back with the man, he pulled your panties to the side and let one of his fingers sink into your heat roughly. You threw your head back and your fingers gripped at the fabric of Joel’s t-shirt, the sudden action throwing you off.

Joel twisted his digit to curl it inside of you before he removed it again, causing you to whine angrily at him. You lifted your head to grumble but instead you were silenced as you locked eyes with him; he brought his wet finger to his lips and sucked it in with a soft moan. Your lips parted in silent shock as Joel sucked your arousal into his mouth, moaning like it was the finest food he had ever eaten.

“Taste so sweet, princess. Best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He groaned, finally removing your panties from your privates. As you lifted your hips to allow the man more access, he noticed how evident your arousal was, you were near dripping onto his sofa and his mouth watered. “I’m going to eat you out now and I won’t stop until you squirt right into my mouth, so how about you be a good girl and do that for me.” Joel said sternly.

You nodded dumbly; no man had ever spoken to you this way before, at least, no man you truly wanted. Without another word, Joel dipped his head down and licked a fat stripe up through your folds. You moaned softly, the noise was delicate and sincere, a complete contrast to how you sounded coming from his laptop screen last night. Your body shuddered against the sofa and your fingers had weaved their way into Joel’s salt and pepper hair; his soft locks entangled with your digits. You gently tugged at his hair causing the male to make a gruff noise into your folds, the vibrations rippled through you and you moaned again.

Joel sucked your clit into his mouth, the sensitive bud was already throbbing with the male’s previous efforts and as soon as his lips suctioned around it your back was arching off his sofa. The old couch creaked under your body as your contorted your back when Joel’s tongue flicked over your clit.

“Fuck me!” You cursed, one of your hands leaving Joel’s head to pathetically grip at the edge of the sofa for further stability.

“Later,” Joel mumbled into your wet pussy.

You let out a breathy chuckle; your head was swimming, your thighs were shaking with the pleasure as Joel continued to work his tongue expertly over your clit and occasionally to dip down into your hole. You felt your orgasm start to bubble lowly in the depths of your belly, just a gentle simmer as Joel licked at you like a man who had been starved.

As if he read your mind of wanting more, Joel brought two fingers up to your hole; he barely dipped them into you and you whimpered weakly. He pushed one finger in, just barely up to his knuckle before he withdrew it and licked over your clit again, the tip of his tongue flicking at it gently.

“Please.” You pleaded with a weak and shaking voice.

Joel looked up at you; his dark pupils were blown with lust and he smirked as he let both fingers push into you, again, barely going past his first knuckles. He twisted his fingers in you and pushed them in fully until the palm of his hand met your body. You let out a loud gasp as your eyes fluttered shut and like a perfectly-timed dance, Joel flicked his tongue across your clit once again.

“Fucking Christ, shit.” You cursed, your voice loud and sharp as Joel worked his fingers rhythmically into you.

Joel laughed softly against you as he plunged his fingers into you again and again. He wrapped his lips around your clit again and suckled at the bud softly as his fingers worked into you quickly. Your orgasm came crashing down, you barely had time to register it as Joel worked his fingers quicker, he curled them upwards and they bumped the spongy spot inside of you that had screams tumbling from your lips.

“G-gonna,” is all you managed to get out, the room was filled with your moans and the obscene wet noise of your arousal as Joel fingered you with fervour.

“That’s it,” Joel cooed. “Good girl, cum for me. Soak me, need it.” He moaned as he pulled his mouth off of your clit but kept his face near and he replaced it with his thumb.

The different sensation threw you off momentarily but it was too late and your orgasm ripped through your body, it drew a long moan from your throat; the noise was animalistic and raw and it echoed through the room. Joel removed his fingers and with that, you let go and whimpered as you gushed onto Joel’s face, he lapped up your juices and you shuddered through your orgasm. Joel watched as your pussy clenched and fluttered around air, the aftershocks of your orgasm evident as you writhed in your spot.

“Look at you.” He sighed happily, watching you still. “Even better than on the screen, so perfect, so beautiful.”

You blushed as his words and you weakly let go of his hair your legs were still quaking as he let go of them, you slumped against his sofa; completely unashamed of your naked state compared to Joel’s fully dressed one. He stood and the outline of his hard cock was evident in his light shorts, there was a darkened wet patch and your mouth watered at the thought he got that turned on by pleasuring you.

“Come here and taste yourself on me.” Joel breathed, taking your cheek to pull you in for a bruising kiss.

You held onto Joel’s arms as he kissed you, his tongue trailed over your bottom lip and greedily you sucked it into your mouth, urging him to explore every crevice of your mouth. You made a small noise of appreciation as your mouth was flooded with the taste of Joel mixed with the tang of your own arousal.

“Fuck me already. Please.” You breathed against Joel’s face, momentarily breaking the kiss.

“How do you wanna take me, darlin’?” He asked.

“However you wanna give it to me.” You retorted with a smirk.

“Get on your knees on the couch, stick your ass up for me and show me that pretty little cunt.” He growled lowly and you obliged happily, doing as he said.

You positioned yourself so your chest was pressed to the back of the sofa and you allowed Joel full access to yourself. You wiggled your ass as you heard Joel toss his shorts to the side haphazardly.

“All for me now, huh?” Joel asked, his hands mauled at the skin of your ass and spread your cheeks, he took his length and pressed the tip into your hole, before you knew it, it was gone again and he slapped it gently at your oversensitive clit. “Tell me how bad you want it.” He hissed, running his cock through your wet folds, nudging your clit with each pass.

“Please, Joel. I want it so bad, never needed a cock so bad in my life, you already made me feel better than any of my toys or the boys I’ve fucked before put together. Please give me your cock, wanna feel your cum fill me up so bad. P-please.” You whined, your voice coming out as small, wrecked sobs as Joel continued to rub his cock over you.

“Good girl.” He praised and without warning be bottomed out inside of you, you moaned loudly; a perfect blend of pleasure and pain rippled through your veins as Joel brushed some hair from your face so he could evaluate your emotions.

He rubbed your ass with his palm and landed a bruising slap to it, you moaned and threw your head back in pleasure. Joel took that opportunity to pull his hips back, to pull out of you fully; he passed his cock through your soaked pussy lips once again. Your mouth opened to complain but before a single noise could leave your mouth, he was pushing back into your greedy heat without warning.

“So. Fucking. Tight.” Joel groaned, accentuating each of his words with a hard thrust of his cock.

He built up a harsh pace, your fingers turned white as they gripped at the fabric of the sofa below you. You were sure if you held on any tighter then the fabric would surely rip under you. Your body prickled as if a hundred needles were touching your skin, your stomach knotted as you felt another orgasm working it’s way through you. Your walls fluttered around Joel and your legs wobbled as you tried to stay grounded as his thick cock nudged that sweet spot inside of you.

“G-gonna, gonna…” You whimpered, your eyes screwing shut.

“Mmhm, that’s it. Atta girl, cum on my cock. Tell me how good it feels, princess.” Joel whispered, leaning forward so his body was pressed to yours.

“Fuck!” You cursed, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. “Feels so good, n-never felt this good before. Making me feel drunk on your cock, gonna need it again and again and again. Please give it to me. Please. So good.” You rambled, words falling from your lips carelessly as Joel fucked you into your orgasm.

His thick but nimble digits wound their way around you to fall to your clit, he circled the bud perfectly and it had your head swimming. It was the thing you needed to push you over the edge; you felt as if you had fallen from a cliff, just floating in midair as Joel worked you through it. Moans of profanity and his name fell from your parted lips as you came around the man’s cock, your walls clenched him and held him tightly.

Seemingly, that was what sent Joel over the edge, his hips faltered and he thrust into you once more, much weaker this time. His cock twitched in your walls and with a groan, and his hands squeezing your hips roughly, he came deep inside of you. You whimpered as your body went limp; Joel’s hot cum filled you and it made you clench weakly around him, your greedy hole trying to suck him in deeper still.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, your ass still on display for the older man as he pulled out of you with a wince.

“Just did that, darlin’.” He laughed breathlessly, trying to gain composure once again.

You rolled your eyes, was typical Joel to state that when clearly it was a rhetorical state meant as a throwaway.

“I should um, well I should pop to the bathroom to quickly clean up and then get out of your hair.” You said, somewhat awkwardly as you stood shakily from the sofa and held your thighs together tightly.

Less than a minute ago, the man’s cock had been inside of you and now that the thick tension and lust had cleared the air you couldn’t help but feel a little bit awkward about it.

“Stay?” Joel asked. “I mean, I wasn’t really done with you yet.” He grinned boyishly and you couldn’t help but smile at him. “Just an idea, darlin’ but how about we go shower and clean up and order some food. We still got more beers to get through. Then, I’m sure if you’re a really good girl, I could give you my cock again.” His hand was stroking up and down your arm, his fingers tickled your skin and in their wake they left goosebumps.

You looked up at Joel, into his deep brown eyes and you nodded with a grin.

“Deal. But you’re paying for the food, you ol’ perv.” You teased with a giggle.

“Get upstairs.” Joel said with a roll of his eyes.

You laughed to yourself again as you walked away, to go upstairs only to yelp loudly when Joel came up behind you and placed a light tap to your ass and rushed in front of you.

“You’re dead, Miller.” You called and chased up behind him to return the favour.

———————————————————————

—————

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal

1K notes · View notes

eimids · 3 months

Note

nsfw alphabet for ona batlle?

finally for my baby ona <3

this is like switch ona cause i feel like she isn't a top haha

NSFW Alphabet Ona Battle <3

almost all letters

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

Ona needs cuddles and closeness. Weather she has been receiving or giving, she needs to feel close to you and touch every single part of your body.

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

On you, she loves your fingers. Somewhat for sexual reasons but also just holding your hands or playing with your fingers and the rings on them.

On herself she loooves her muscles. She is quite short and having muscles gives her more confidence on and off the pitch.

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Ona gets often shy after she comes. She will be all blushed, but what gets her even more shy is when you make her squirt. She tries to hide her face as you assure that it was hot. (thanks to the anon <3)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Uhh ona likes being tied up hehe. She likes when you use some pretty robes to tie her up to the bed and just being under your mercy.

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

Ona knows what she is doing. She is young but has had a lot of practice with other women. She is very experienced with her fingers especially, she just knows how to find those perfect spots inside you immediately.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Hmm she loves to please you at the same time that she is receiving. So like 69 is always good or fucking you with a strap that has a little vibe on her clit so she can feel good. She just loves to cum at the same time with you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

She is more serious but giggles from both of you can be heard during the night. Between breaks she loves to be more humorous but during the moment more serious.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

She shaves often and likes to keep herself tidied up. Sometimes she even waxes like everything off.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

She is an intimate person. She loves to fuck you slowly while giving you kisses, she loves when she gets to lay on your chest while you finger her. She loves being close to you in every way possible.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

There is a little vibrator with her wherever she goes. She uses is a lot and loves to send you videos of her using it to tease you. She likes to get on your nerves because she knows you will fuck her good whenever you see her again.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Mommy kink which she is very secretive about. When she is in a subby mood she loves to call you mommy.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

In the bedroom tbh. It's comfortable and she can cuddle you all she wants after. And she can just fall asleep after .)

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

Literally anything. You can be cleaning the house and she will get turned on. She might be at practice running around and randomly get turned on. She is just a horny girl.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

She would never wanna do anything publicly. She want's you all to herself and wouldn't risk anyone seeing or hearing you. Also being a public figure, she has to be careful.

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

She preferences receiving. She just loves to have your head buried between her legs and just pressing your face closes to where she needs you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

She is up for a quickie almost any time. If you need a quick orgasm before going to somewhere, she is happy to give it to you. She doesn't love being the one receiving during a quickie. She needs her foreplay and aftercare.

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

Once again I say this, but she is an athlete so her stamina is good. She needs her breaks but can go for all night.

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

She has her little collection of toys hehee. She owns some straps, vibes, robes, anal plugs too. She uses them on you but also you use them on her. She loves her little collection.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She loves to tease you and be a little brat. She will send you some very unholy photos of herself while you are at work. She sends you videos of her touching herself but then tells you not to touch yourself. But she also loves when you punish her for being a brat ;)

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

She isn't that loud but loves to draw every single moan out of you. She could get herself off by just hearing your beautiful noises.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

If she isn't wearing some sports bra and comfy strings for practice, she is most likely wearing some fancy looking lingerie so you can take them off of her anytime you want.

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

Really depends, sometimes she can go like a rabbit every day all day but she can also go for a couple weeks without needing anything really. It usually correlates to her cycle.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Cuddling you and getting her goodnight kiss = she is asleep

#woso community #woso fanfics #wlw post #woso x reader #ona battle #ona battle is a baby #i love ona battle #alphabet

186 notes · View notes

pasukiyo · 1 year

Text

𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥. | sebastian sallow.

sebastian sallow x f!ravenclaw reader ; somewhat enemies to lovers 6,546 words warnings; none tbh, a little bit of violence involving trolls i guess lol

“excellent! points to ravenclaw!”

the classroom erupted into a sea of cheers, her lips tugging up into a smile as she watched sebastian sallow dust off his robes from the floor below. she hopped down from the dueling platform, giving her thanks to her fellow pupils as they congratulated her, giving her pats on the back.

“that was really quite extraordinary!” a hufflepuff girl she recognized as poppy sweeting gasped.

“it really was! if you keep this up, perhaps ravenclaw will finally have a chance at winning the house cup this year!” samantha dale, a fellow ravenclaw, squealed, giving her upper arm a squeeze. she laughed, alas, it could only be short lived as she turned her head just in time for sebastian sallow to walk past, making a point of bumping her with his shoulder. she scowled as she stumbled backwards a few steps, turning her head to glare at him.

sebastian reciprocated, “you got lucky, new girl. perhaps next time, you won’t be.”

she narrowed her eyes, “if that was your idea of a proper hogwarts welcome, then it was less than exemplary, i must say.”

for a few beats, they only stood and stared at each other, as if it were a competition on who could out-glare the other.

“alright class, settle down, settle down! back in your seats!” professor hecat’s voice interrupted their silence, and with a hmph, sebastian tilted up his chin and pranced away, making his way back towards his seat beside another slytherin boy, ominis gaunt, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“c‘mon,” a voice whispered to her, a hand grasping her upper arm. it belonged to poppy sweeting, the hufflepuff girl from earlier. she joined her at her side across the room from sebastian, his brow still furrowed and his lips down in a frown, arms crossed over his chest, and she caught his eye once more. he made a point of scoffing before turning away, intent to keep his attention on professor hecat, and professor hecat only.

“don’t mind sebastian,” poppy murmured beside her ear. “he’s just upset that he’s been bested. besides, he’s always arrogant.”

she sneaked another glance over at sebastian from the corner of her eye, a glance in which he didn’t return. she huffed— it was only her first day— how could she have already made an enemy?

and it was only made clear that sebastian’s dislike towards her was going to grow, for even later that day in her first ever charms lesson, he couldn’t hold onto his tongue for more than two minutes. she’d been swift to learn the summoning spell, in fact, she was able to summon the book straight from natsai onai’s hand on her first try.

the scowl on sebastian’s face when professor ronen exclaimed a “spectacular!” and awarded points to ravenclaw certainly did not go unnoticed.

even during a game of summoner’s court in which she had beaten natsai in two rounds, the rest of the class cheered, meanwhile sebastian could do more than glare, turning his head towards his friend ominis, no doubt to mutter insulting things about her into his ear.

ominis could only shift uncomfortably where he stood, furrowing his brows at his friend.

just as she had hopped off of the summoner’s court board, and natsai had given her congratulations, sebastian pranced his way up towards her, a disapproving frown on his face. she cocked an eyebrow at him as he approached, wondering what insult he could possibly throw at her this time.

“seems to me you fancy any chance you can get to show off,” he hissed, and her eyelids narrowed. “what’s wrong with a little fun? do you perhaps feel threatened by me, sebastian sallow?”

she watched the way his jaw tensed at this, and he stepped closer and closer until he was towering above her, looming like a shadow.

“how could i feel threatened by an arrogant little brat like you?”

“come on, sebastian.” she turned to see ominis stalking his way toward them, wand out, a red spark at its end. “i think you’ve given our new fifth year a proper enough hogwarts welcome.”

she pressed her lips tightly together, a comeback on the tip of her tongue yet, somehow still failing to emit. the corner of sebastian’s lips curved up into a smug smirk, more than likely feeling as though her silence was proof of his triumph. he turned to follow ominis back inside the castle, leaving her alone, standing in the grass beside the summoner’s court board.

frustration raged like a wildfire in her chest, and she scoffed, unable to even believe the audacity of this boy she hardly knew. was his ego really so big that he couldn’t accept one little defeat in a class duel?

she huffed as she began to make her way back towards the castle— the truth was, she really hoped it was enough to roughen his ego up, at least just a bit.

he seemed the type that could use a little bit of humbling.

yet, as her first day of classes at hogwarts came to a bit of a rocky end, a wave of relief washed over her— at least she still had her trip to hogsmeade to look forward to. and the best part was— no sebastian sallow.

“i have asked sebastian sallow to accompany you to hogsmeade. he is a very capable young wizard and happens to know the area quite well.”

for a moment, she said nothing, merely blinked.

because surely professor weasley wasn’t talking about the same sebastian sallow she knew?

“and… uhm, he accepted?” she managed, “when you asked him to?”

professor weasley’s brow slightly wrinkled, clearly a bit taken aback by the new student’s hesitation. she didn’t question it however, as she replied, “of course he did. is there a problem?”

“it’s just… surely there’s someone else you can trust.. what about natsai? i met her in charms..”

“miss onai? yes, she is a very capable witch, indeed, and admittedly, was my first choice. but alas, she is busy this evening. i noticed you and mr sallow spending some time together, and i assure you, hogsmeade has a way of bringing people closer together.”

she almost felt sickened by professor weasley’s last words.

“mr sallow is waiting for you, and i’m afraid that the daylight doesn’t last forever.”

and that was that.

she felt dread pang in her ribs which every step she took down the corridors of hogwarts, walking as slow as possible towards where professor weasley had said sebastian was waiting. her first day truly couldn’t have gone any worse— how had she gotten so unlucky?

and her dread seemed to spread like an infection in her chest as she caught her first glimpse of sebastian standing just at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall. perhaps, he hadn’t noticed her yet. perhaps, if she could just sneak by—

“well, if it isn’t hogwarts’ new little celebrity.”

she grimaced at the sound of his voice, because of course he had seen her, and of course he was smirking up at her, daring her to make the descent down the stairs. with her lips pressed together firmly in a thin line, she made her way down the staircase, grumbling with each step. sebastian chuckled at her expression, “happy to see me again so soon?”

her gaze darkened, “shove it, sallow.”

he pursed his lips together and whistled as she pushed her way past the doors, setting foot in the grounds for the first time. she couldn’t even take time to truly appreciate its beauty when she had sebastian sallow right on her tail. “ouch. i’m hurt,” he joked, a hand over his heart. she turned, her glare unbreaking as they marched away from the castle on a foreign dirt path.

“hey.”

she ignored him, in fact, if anything, the sound of his voice made her feet move faster, expanding the gap between them further and further.

“hey!” he shouted again, this time much closer, his hand reached for her shoulder and she stopped. she pivoted around on her heel towards him, not even bothering to mask her irritation. “what?” she practically spat, and he chuckled. “slow down. you don’t even know where you’re going,” he tittered. “that’s what i’m here for, remember?”

she scowled as he took the lead, “i don’t need you,” she grumbled. he raised an eyebrow and turned, walking backwards. “so, i should just leave then?” he asked and she rolled her eyes. “that would make my day. my year, in fact.”

“alright. i can leave,” he shrugged. “leave you all alone to fend for yourself when you take one wrong turn and end up in the midst of the forbidden forest.”

she pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek and turned her head, looking anywhere but at sebastian sallow. “you are insufferable,” she mumbled, and he laughed again. “i think you should be saying thank you, actually.”

“oh yeah?” she tittered. “please, enlighten me. what ever should i be thanking you for?” she allowed herself to stare sebastian sallow in the eyes, and she found there was a twinkle in the void in the midst of the earthy soils of his irises. mischief, she wouldn’t doubt. “well, i agreed to accompany you to hogsmeade, didn’t i?” he began, turning back around as they continued forth. “and i’m not leading you into the forest to suffer a painful death either, i think you should have a bit more gratitude for that alone.”

she could only roll her eyes, “piss off.”

“ouch. that one really hurt,” he mocked pain again before flashing a smile back behind him, to which she simply scowled and looked away.

“why did you even agree to come?” she questioned, watching as the trees passed by until eventually, they stopped altogether. she could see a bridge in the distance, mountaintops even further away. “surely you have better things to do.”

sebastian laughed at this, leading her down another branch of dirt path. “and that, my friend, was where you’d be wrong,” he snickered. “i’m not your friend,” she didn’t hesitate to add, but sebastian either did not hear or just didn’t care enough to reply. “if it hadn’t been for weasley’s request, i would’ve been sitting in the librarian’s office right now, writing lines all evening,” he shrugged. “this beats that, if you ask me.”

an eyebrow cocked to her hairline at this, and even the corners of her lips peeled into an amused grin at this. “spend a lot of time in detention, do you?” she chuckled, and he glanced behind him once again. “just enough to keep me well-rounded,” he replied with a wink.

she pursed her lips again and turned away at this— sebastian sallow had a certain charm to him, as much as it pained her to admit it. she thought that perhaps if it weren’t for his insufferable attitude, they might have even made good friends.

“merlin’s beard!” sebastian gasped and she turned, following his finger to wherever he was pointing. “from the forbidden forest! look!” she glared at the tips of his fingers, following his arm all the way back up to the side of his face. “if this is another one of your jokes, sebastian, i’m afraid i won’t be the one to humor your this time,” she chided, and he glanced over to where she stood beside him, his brow furrowed. “i’m being serious! there they are! look!”

with a sigh, she obliged, maybe if she humored him just this once, he’d give it a rest for a little while.

so she turned, and it was when she realized that sebastian sallow was in fact, not trying to jest. her lips fell apart when she gasped as two white creatures emerged from over the top of the trees, their screeches somewhat soft, their wings flapping to make them fly at an impressive speed. hippogriffs, they were— she’d only seen them in books until now.

sebastian noticed the look on her face as she watched them soar through the air, heading for a destination that was only an enigma to the students on the ground below. “quite a sight, isn’t it?” he said warmly, a new tone she’d never heard from him before. but no matter, she tried to strain her neck to see where the hippogriffs were off to before they disappeared behind the castle, flying off towards the horizon. she couldn’t suppress the urge to smile as she turned back towards sebastian, where he too, wore a warm grin, his features soft, the mischievous gleams in his eyes now replaced with warm embers.

“does that happen often?” she inquired. he still stared at her with that same somewhat tender gaze, and she could hear a tiny voice inside of her head admit that she wouldn’t mind seeing this look on his face more often. “no, actually. you certainly don’t see that everyday.”

alas, the warmth from his gaze did not last long as he led them over another bridge, gesturing to the woods to their left. “to our left is the forbidden forest, out of bounds to all students,” he informed. “unless of course, you wish to die the most painful of all deaths. and in that case, you’re more than welcome to be my guest.”

her scowl was quick to return to her face. “thanks a lot, sebastian. i’ll keep that in mind for the next time i have to meet you like this,” she grumbled, and he laughed. “well, that’s one way to say thank you.” she didn’t respond, and he didn’t say anything more. they were walking side by side now, his shoulder every so often brushing hers. she tried creating more distance between them so this wouldn’t happen, but still somehow, his shoulder managed to graze hers.

she wouldn’t doubt he was doing it on purpose to get under her skin.

“ah, you can see hogsmeade just up ahead,” he nodded ahead of them. “just past those ruins.” she could just make out the rooftops of houses up the hill ahead, some of their chimneys released wisps of smoke into the air. they were still a bit of a distance away from the village, yet, she could already feel its warmth. “so, what will you be getting here, anyway?” he asked. “weasley said something about a wand, something about potions..”

“dittany seeds, some spellcrafts, and some potion recipes,” she interrupted as they neared the entrance of the village of hogsmeade. “pretty much everything i lost in the dragon attack.” sebastian pursed his lips at this and nodded, staring off into space. “you know, not everyone experiences dragon attacks. or even dragons, for that matter,” he mused. “wonder what makes you so special.”

her teeth sunk into the flesh of the inside of her cheek at this, and she turned to give him a look, one what made clear to him that she wished to speak no further. he shrugged, “oh well. guess we can’t be sharing all our secrets now, can we?”

neither of them speaked as they passed through the little wooden entrance to hogsmeade, and there, the village unfolded before her. it was unlike anything she’d ever seen— cozier than where she came from in london. it was refreshing, the village seemed to be blanketed in warmth, and there was so much to look at.

“well,” sebastian sighed, and she stopped as he turned in front of her, blocking her path. “that short list of yours gives you plenty of time to poke around the village. i just have to pop in a shop to find something for my sister. meet me in the town square when you’re finished.”

she furrowed her eyebrows at this. sister? he had never mentioned having a sister before, and she certainly had never seen another girl that resembled him at school.

“you have a sister?” she asked, and he nodded in reply. “is she in slytherin too?” his lips twitched, as if they yearned to smile. “yes. or rather, she was.” and for the first time, she could see darkness loom over sebastian sallow’s face, and she guessed that it was a rather sensitive subject. “she’s back home in feldcroft. she’s ill, you see. but she’ll be back soon,” he trailed off as he gazed off towards the other shops. “i’m sure of it,” he added quietly, and for a moment, she almost found it within herself to feel pity for him. she wondered if maybe she should even say sorry, but decided against it.

the last thing she needed was for sebastian sallow to think that she cared.

“well then!” he suddenly exclaimed. “i shall see you soon then?”

she nodded, “sure.”

and with that, they went their separate ways, leaving her alone with her thoughts as she went shop to shop, gathering her school supplies. sebastian sallow was nothing if not a headache, that was for certain. but, she could admit, it was admirable of him to take care of his sister. she could learn to respect him at least a little bit more, although, she was quite uncertain that she was willing to see past much due to his arrogance.

she wondered how ominis even put up with him— ominis seemed sweet enough. of course, she hadn’t seen much of him anyways, but she did appreciate that he had put an end to sebastian’s bickering at charms. she could only hope that her impression on him was true.

her day in hogsmeade couldn’t have gone anymore smoothly— she hadn’t had to worry about sebastian sallow or anything involving ranrok. she had all of the supplies she needed, and unfortunately, that meant that she needed to head to the town square to meet up with her tour guide.

she could already see the mess of brown hair from the middle of the staircase leading up to the square, and when she reached the top, there he was. he seemed to have noticed her right away, his lips curved into a smile as he met her halfway in the middle of the square. she couldn’t help but notice the small group of girls— a group of hufflepuffs— giggle as they watched sebastian pass by, and she had to roll her eyes. could they not see past the pretty smile to see how much of an arse he was?

“found everything alright then?” he asked as he approached, and she nodded with a small hum. “did you find what you needed for your sister?” she couldn’t help but ask, and sebastian’s smile widened, looking proud as ever. “i did, thanks for asking,” he chimed, and she huffed, glancing around the square. “well, i suppose the world is our oyster now,” he sighed, and when she fell under his gaze again, she noticed that same mischievous gleam in his eye. “what do you say we go see what else we can get up to?”

she couldn’t suppress the urge to laugh, “as if. i say we go back to—“

she trailed off as the ground began to rumble, and sebastian’s grin was swift to melt from his face as he turned, the murmurings amongst the villagers beginning to fade. she followed sebastian’s gaze at the source of the noise, her lips falling agape at the creature stomping its way into the village before leaping down onto the stone, hammering his enormous club down with it.

she wondered if perhaps it was just his subconscious acting as sebastian quickly grabbed her arms, tugging her backwards and into safety. there wasn’t much time to make a quick remark, her eyes widening when she took account the armor the troll was wearing. it was enveloped in the same kind of magic she’d seen at gringotts, the same magic she’d seen around ranrok..

her hand slipped down to the pocket in her robe to fetch her wand when the troll turned towards where they stood, and from the corner of her eye, she could see sebastian do the same. they each fired a basic spell cast into the troll’s chest, which seemed to come to no avail. the troll began to advance on them, closer and closer, and sebastian tugged her back, preparing to get them to safety until..

“bombardia!”

the troll roared with pain and staggered before it could hammer its club onto the very place she and sebastian stood, and she averted her gaze from the troll to a place behind him, where a small group of officers were, shouting orders to one another.

the troll turned to follow the officers, and she sighed, her palm slick with sweat where it held her new wand. “well, that’s lucky,” she breathed, but alas, her breath was short lived before it was taken right out of her lungs. she and sebastian turned as another sound permeated the chaos-filled air of hogsmeade, and a building behind them that was once perfectly intact crumbled, yet another troll tumbling from the wreckage. it wore the same armor as the last, the same red-hot fury in its eyes.

her name slipped from sebastian’s lips as the troll attacked, sprinting straight towards her with his club at the ready. she couldn’t tell if it was pure instinct or her adrenaline that led her to roll out of the way just in time to dodge the attack, but no matter— she staggered back onto her feet as the troll’s mouth hung open, a horrid roar emitting.

she glimpsed over at sebastian, his eyebrows knit together and gaze dark in determination. “confringo!” he shouted, and flames erupted from the tip of his wand, the troll roaring in anger. sebastian just barely managed to evade the troll’s fist before she shouted “incendio!” and a short range of fire ensued, the troll staggering back a few steps.

“keep fighting!” she could hear sebastian shout as the troll prepared his next attack. “protego!” she yelped, nearly being smashed by the troll’s club.

as the fight raged on, she couldn’t help but notice how well she and sebastian worked together, as if fighting was some unspoken language between them that only they could understand. somehow, their moves always complemented the other’s next, and it wasn’t long before the troll was down on its knees, weak and uncertain if it could fight any longer.

there was a strange noise coming from somewhere near— her wand?— and she spared a swift glance around. sebastian seemed unable to hear whatever it was she could. something told her to strike, to channel this hidden source of power and use it, so she did— a purple-black blast hit the troll before it could even comprehend what was happening and just like that, it was gone. she eyed the only remains of the troll— purple embers that disappeared as soon as it hit the ground.

sebastian’s lips fell agape and his gaze fleet from where the troll once stood to her, his brow furrowed, unsure of what to think of what just happened. the same officer from before joined them, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

“goodness! a second troll?” the officer tutted, analyzing the wreckage around them. she blinked and stared down at the stone ground below, unable to fully wrap her brain around what had just happened. of course, she already knew she was capable of somewhat wielding this ancient magic, but she was aware of the full extent of her abilities. she was able to make a troll disappear where he stood— what else could she do?

“did you hear me?” she blinked up at the officer and stole a quick glance over at sebastian, his lips pressed together, and he, too, was searching her face for clues that she was alright. “i asked if you were alright?” she swiftly glimpsed back to the officer, and nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed at the base of her throat. “yes.. yes, sorry. i’m alright. just.. it’s just a bit of a blur right now, i suppose.”

the officer hummed as she scanned her face, as if searching for any injuries, anything she wasn’t telling her. “well, if you are alright, perhaps the two of you wouldn’t mind helping me out a few things back to where they were.” she blinked, “of course,” she and sebastian said in unison, and they watched as the officer walked off, tending to the other villagers.

“well,” sebastian said at last, clasping his hands together and circling around to face her. “can’t say i’ve seen anyone fight like that,” he added, and tilted his head, as if to observe her. “what was that last spell you used anyway? the one that made the troll disappear?” she shook her head, eyeing the damage ahead. “i don’t.. i don’t know,” she replied honestly, murmuring “reparo” beneath her breath to tend to the fallen statue.

neither of them said any more as they tended to the damage, not even when the shopkeeper of the wizardwear store behind them beckoned for them to come in, spoiling them with new free robes.

it was only when they left the shop that sebastian spoke, storing his new robes in a safe place. “well, i’d say we’ve earned a butterbeer or two, wouldn’t you?” he chimed, a cheeriness to his voice despite what had happened just moments before. he must’ve noticed the look on her face, for he shrugged and said, “might help forget that we were almost pulverized by a troll.”

she couldn’t deny it— the idea of butterbeer was enticing, to say the least. “i can’t believe i’m saying this, sallow, but i think i have to agree with you.”

sebastian smiled, “perfect. the three broomsticks is just this way.” they set off for the famed pub, and for a moment, she couldn’t help but feel almost at peace. for really the first time all day, she and sebastian weren’t bickering, weren’t even teasing one another. she dared to say it felt nice.

but of course, that sense of peace and relaxation would only be cut short at the sight of a top hat, and the voice of a certain goblin she had heard only the day before. she and sebastian shared a glance at one another before hiding behind the nearest building, craning their necks to listen in on the conversation below.

and it was then that she realized just how big a predicament she was in. not only ranrok, but victor rookwood, was after her, two of the last people anyone would ever want to be caught up with. sebastian tugged on the back of her robes as the goblin turned his head in their general direction, and she let the slytherin boy pull her away, her heart pounding against her chest.

“do you know who that goblin with victor rookwood was?” he asked as he led her towards the three broomsticks, an eyebrow cocked to his hairline. “ranrok is working with rookwood?” she muttered beneath her breath, and sebastian turned, stopping in his tracks. “ranrok? the goblin from the daily prophet?” he asked, and nodded in reply. “i knew i had seen him somewhere.”

she searched sebastian’s face as he stared at something behind her, grabbing her shoulders before she could turn to see what all the fuss was about. “quickly, inside,” he whispered, dragging her into the three broomsticks, into its dark but somewhat cozy atmosphere. he led her to the only two open seats at the bar, conversing with the bartender, sirona ryan, she’d been able to catch her name. everything else she said was drowned out by her own raging sea of thoughts, but the next thing she knew, two butterbeers were placed before her and sebastian, and she wrapped her hands around the mug as if it were her anchor.

sebastian’s eyes scanned her face with what she guessed was concern, although it was an odd look on him. after all, they didn’t like each other, right?

her mind was racing at a million miles per hour, barely comprehending the fact that victor rookwood had entered the building, or that he was searching for her. everything after that was a blur just as the troll attack had been, and it wasn't long before sebastian was leading her out of the three broomsticks, away from hogsmeade, and back towards the safety of hogwarts.

her first week at hogwarts went by faster than she thought it would, and so did her third, and her fourth. soon enough, her first month at hogwarts was over and for the most part, it was rather uneventful, save for the trips to professor fig’s office. of course, sebastian’s constant teasing and rather cold taunts kept her on her feet with a desire to push herself, to prove herself.

but, as the days went by, she couldn’t help but see more of sebastian’s charm, to see more of that warmth she had seen slip through the cracks of his arrogance in hogsmeade. there was something about sebastian she just couldn’t quite place, something that drew her to him, that made her want to see him more, even when he was being a total and complete arse.

they were sometimes even the highlight of her day, when he’d pass by the ravenclaw table in the great hall and murmur something to her when he passed that she almost couldn’t quite catch, but had all the same. when he’d volunteer to be her partner every chance he got in not only defends against the dark arts, but other classes like charms, transfiguration, et cetera. she found herself spending more time with sebastian than she ever would have thought, and although her mind told her she wanted to keep him at a distance, to push away from his teasing and backhanded comments, her heart was telling her to stay, convincing her that wherever he was, was where she wanted to be.

it was quite frustrating, really. especially when he’d randomly pop into her mind when she wasn’t even with him, like when she was doing homework, or collecting pages for her field guide, or doing the tasks assigned by her professors.

or when thoughts of sebastian seemingly possessed her mind when she walked the halls, making her oblivious to anything and everything around her. even to the boy walking closer and closer and closer until..

crash.

she stumbled backwards, her potions book and ominis gaunt’s wand crashing to the floor, the noise echoing throughout the corridor. a few heads turned their way and watched them with curious eyes as she bent down to pick up her book, grasping ominis’ wand on the way.

“oh merlin, i’m sorry,” ominis apologized, his eyebrows knitted together, cheeks warm with embarrassment. she smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. “it’s alright, ominis. here’s your wand,” she pressed his wand back into his hand, the red spark illuminating the tip once more. her name slipped from his lips, wondering if that was who was in front of her. she nodded, “mhm. in the flesh.”

a small silence ensued, and soon her own cheeks grew warm in embarrassment as she eyed the floor. she and ominis had never really talked much, and in fact, it seemed he wasn’t really the type to talk much anyways. surely he must’ve known more about her than she did him though, as sebastian liked to take any chance he could get to ridicule her, or taunt her.

“you know, sebastian talks about you quite a bit,” ominis tore through the silence like a knife with a comment completely off topic, but to be expected, as the only thing they really had in common was, in fact, sebastian. she rolled her eyes at this, “yeah?” ominis nodded “well, i hope you don’t believe all the awful things he says about me,” she scoffed.

ominis’ brow furrowed and his head tilted, much to her surprise. “awful things?” he asked, and she nodded, unsure what the confusion was about. “yeah. i mean, i can only imagine all the ridiculous things he says about me to you.”

ominis was quiet for a moment, his brow remained furrowed. then he shook his head, “they’re not all awful..” he trailed off, turning away. “but i’m not sure if i should say any more..”

it was then, when ominis turned his head that she noticed him, sebastian sallow, in the flesh, lurking in the shadows behind him. their eyes were quick to meet and sebastian was just as fast to turn, nearly taking out everett clopton as he marched away. she cocked an eyebrow, “um, excuse me ominis. i forget, i have somewhere i need.. to be.”

ominis didn’t seem to mind much as she walked away, picking up her pace to catch up with sebastian, who she could just barely see due to how fast he was running. “sebastian!” she called after him, making even more heads turn than before. why would she be seeking out sebastian sallow anyway? as far as anyone else was concerned, they hated each other.

“sebastian!” she called again as she got closer, his elbow just in reach..

and she caught it, just as he had turned into the hall to the left of the greenhouse, which fortunately, was deserted. sebastian glared as he turned to face her, once again towering over her, his figure like a looming shadow, eclipsing the light peeking in through the windows.

“what do you want?” he asked rather coldly, taking her a bit aback.

“what’s the matter with you?” she questioned, her own eyes narrowing. “you think i wouldn’t notice you trying to eavesdrop on me and ominis? you weren’t exactly being discreet, sallow,” she hissed and his glare deepened. “why would i want to eavesdrop on your conversation?” he inquired and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“i don’t know, you tell me,” she began. “i can only imagine the things you say about me to him, maybe you were scared i’d say something to your friend that you’d never told him before.” sebastian’s chuckle was bitter in response, huffing as he tore his gaze away from her, staring at the stained glass windows to their right. “that’s ridiculous,” he grumbled and she raised her eyebrows. “is it? is it really?” and he turned back to scowl down at her. “maybe you’re afraid of that big ego of yours getting bruised,” she spat, and sebastian scoffed, as if it were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“my ego is not big.”

“oh, i’d beg to differ.”

they stood in silence for a few moments, simply standing and glaring at each other, neither of their gazes breaking. “do you eavesdrop on me often?” she asked, and he rolled his eyes as if to say not this again. he turned away and tried to walk away, but of course she was following him— he had gotten under her skin many times, but now, it was her turn to get under his.

“are you just so scared that i’ll say something you don’t want anyone else to know that you—“

she couldn’t even finish her sentence, for he didn’t let her. his hands were unusually warm, soft, gentle as they cupped either side of her face, drawing her near, pressing his lips against hers. and she didn’t reciprocate— of course she didn’t reciprocate when she hardly had time to wrap her head around what was happening.

sebastian pulled away, a rosy tint to his cheeks she hadn’t noticed before, his irises soft, once again drawing her into his earthy soil. her fingers clasped around one of his wrists, the other resting on his elbow as he opened and closed his mouth, searching for the right words.

“i—“ he started, squeezing his eyes shut, uncertain what he should say. “i’m sorry, i—“

“sebastian?”

he blinked back down at her, his features softening when he saw her expression, the same one he had. it was then and only then that she realized she’d been wanting this, this sebastian, this kiss, and she couldn’t think of anything else other than sebastian and his lips. all she knew was that she wanted to feel them on hers again.

“what?”

“kiss me again.”

and so he did. and this time, she kissed back.

the kiss was warm, like the feeling of being beneath a blanket beside the fireplace on a cold winter’s day. the kiss was like magic, but not like regular magic, no. more like the magic she felt that day in hogsmeade when she used the ancient magic to make the troll disappear. just like the feeling she had felt back in ollivander’s when her wand had chosen her, which had felt different but pleasant all the same.

the longer she kissed sebastian sallow, the more she came to realize that all those stupid arguments, the bickering, the teasing, all the taunts and remarks— none of them seemed to matter anymore. not when he was this good at kissing. anything negative she had felt towards him seemed to melt away, becoming irrelevant.

this sebastian was the same one as the sebastian that cared for his sister. that was spending galleons on medicine and anything he could find to treat her. the same sebastian that held her with his hands on her shoulders, pulling her closer to evade getting smashed by a troll’s club.

she realized that he’d been this sebastian all along. all the teasing, the fighting— all of it— a mere coverup for the way he felt. he didn’t know how to handle the feeling he felt the first time he laid eyes on her, when she had been the first one to best him in a duel. so he handled her the only way he knew how.

until now.

they pulled away again, and she took the time to look at him, to really look at him. his lips were swollen with her kiss now, his chest heaving as he chased air back into his lungs, the black void in his irises expanding until there was hardly any more brown left to see. her teeth sunk into the plush of her bottom lip and she smiled, and he smiled back.

“what do we do now?” she asked, breathlessly. sebastian hummed, as if deep in thought. “i think i’d like to keep kissing you.”

and so he did.

her arms wrapped around his neck this time, his hands retreating from her face so that his arms could instead wrap themselves around her waist, pulling her tight against his body. somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if anyone would walk in, but when he kissed her with a little bit more ferocity, she couldn’t bring herself to give a damn if anyone walked in.

well..

“ohoho! how naughty!”

again, she and sebastian broke apart, her arms falling from his neck to his chest, his own remaining around her waist. they both turned to see peeves at their side, tilting his head as if to catch a better look.

“sebastian sallow and his little friend! what a sight to see, indeed!” peeves exclaimed, chuckling. “sebby is snogging the new ravenclaw fifth—“

“oh, piss off peeves, you old git!”

a/n; this turned out way longer than i wanted it to and i don’t know how i feel about it at all but i still hope you enjoy lol

#hogwarts legacy imagine #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fic

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siriuslysmoking · 5 months

Text

Friends

Part 2 of Meddle About

Series Masterlist

A/N: Next chapter is a time skip. Kinda in a Chase Atlantic Era tbh. Also I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t look good in green.

Pairing: Fem!college student x sugar daddy!steve

Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, alcohol consumption, age gap (R:21, S:29), Reader has a memory about her grandpa (literally sum my grandpa used to do for me), Mention of bad family experience/relationships, No mention of race or body shape (except a hint at reader with big boobs)

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Working and being a student is tough, you never seem to have a moment to yourself, so when one of you co-workers needs a shift and offers to take your saturday night double, you take it. Finally going out with your friends you encounter a strange man with a strange proposition.

-Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved Running in circles, now look what you've done (woo) Give you my word as you take it and run Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now (woo)-

Steve picks you up two days later. He's sitting in his Red BMW outside your cheap apartment and you feel a little self conscious about your home as he sits in his freshly cleaned expensive car.

The two of you had been messaging for a couple days and he has decided that instead of taking your measurements to the seamstress that it would be better to go in person.

You are worried, you haven't been alone with Steve, you didn't know what to expect.

Before you left your apartment you sent your friend your active location and Steve's whole name. You had asked for his entire name and he gave it willingly, understanding the need for safety.

He sits patiently in the front seat as you walk out your building's front door. He beams as he notices you, your appearance is nothing special, you are wearing a summer dress with converse and your normal jewelry and simple makeup.

You adjust the straps of your cross body bag as he exits the car and rounds the side to open your door. He looks like he wanted to give you a hug, but he seemingly thinks better of it.

Once you enter the car, he goes around and sits himself into the driver's seat. "Hi, how are you?"

"Good." You nod with a smile, meeting his eyes.

"How was your classes?"

"They were fine, I'm finishing up an Art History portfolio."

"That's good." He nods, adjusting the radio's volume for it to be a small ambiance music. "So, I wanted to talk more about this event with you."

"Okay," You adjust your body to face him. He puts the car in drive as he continues to talk.

"So, I work for this big company that my father used to run and we host a yearly charity event where we auction off art and different things for different charities." You nod along as he turns a corner, "I've never taken a date before and I've always been given shit for it. I don't want people's attention on my dating life when there is an auction for the homeless going on."

You nod not knowing what to really say to that.

He looks to you, not for an answer but for some sort of confirmation of your comfortability of the situation. "Are you still wanting to do this? I can turn around and lose your number if you prefer."

"No it's not that." You start to fidget with your hands, meeting his eyes at a red light. "It's just the only nice event I've ever been to is a wedding, so I don't know how to go about this. I mean- the nicest thing I own is my bridesmaid dress from my cousin's wedding."

"That's fine. I didn't assume that you would have a ball gown just handy- no sane person does." He laughs, "And just be yourself, no one else's opinion matters, you're coming so I don't go insane."

You laugh along with him, "I don't think I'll have a problem conversing with you, It's just I assume we'll be sitting next to people, what do you want me to tell them? That I'm a college student barely making ends meet as a waitress."

"Sure, I don't care." He shrugs, you give him a are you serious? look. "Tell them your plans after college, avoid questions you don't want to answer."

"You make it sound easy."

"Must be the years of practice." He smiles, adding to your comfort. "We're here."

You didn't even notice that you had shifted into park. Outside of a white dress shop with a black sign and matching window frames. It was a modern rustic feel. "Ready?"

You nod unbuckling and opening your door. When you stand on the pavement he gives you a playful scoff, "I'm supposed to get your door."

"My bad." You raise your hands in surrender, "I'll remember that."

He points a light-hearted accusatory finger at her and he utters with a smile, "You better."

You both enter the shop and he talks to the lady and the counter, talking about the appointment he made. "I wanted to ask, what's your favorite color? or what you look good in."

"I like blue and green and red." You huff out a laugh, "I'm not really against any color."

"Good, I told them that any color would probably work but you can talk to her about the different cuts and types of dresses you like."

"Okay."

He looks you in your eyes like he's searching for the answer that he hasn't even asked yet. "Are you sure about this? You can tell me to fuck off."

"You already asked me this, Steve." He rubs the back of his neck.

"Right, sorry."

"Don't be." You shake your head, following the lady that guides you behind a silk curtain.

"Hello, you must be Steve." The seamstress looks to you, "and you?"

You give her your name and she smiles as she asks for your regular dress size. You give it to her and she nods, grabbing the measuring tape that is wrapped around her neck like a scarf.

"Alright, let's start from the bottom." She motions you to step on an elevated platform. "arms up, hips and waist first."

You look to Steve who smiles as he sits down in the loveseat in the corner.

Four days later you get home from your day shift at work and see a car sitting out front.

The newly familiar BMW sits outside your apartment. He gets out as soon as he sees you walking down the street. "Hi."

You smile at him, "hey, what are you doing here?"

"Your dress is done and I thought that I would hand deliver it to you and if you feel comfortable I would love to see you try it on."

"Yeah! Sure, come on in." You wave him over as he grabs a big white box from his backseat.

He follows you up to your apartment while asking you about your day. You answer happily, asking him about his.

"Would you like something to drink or a snack?"

"I'm okay."

"Wanna get straight to the show?" You ask, his smiling as he makes himself comfortable on the beaten-up couch. He hums in agreement, motioning for you to grab the box. "Alright I will be right back, feel free to snoop, but I must say whatever you find that might in the slightest be embarrassing, just assume it's my roommate’s."

"Will do." He laughs as you turn to look back at him before closing your door.

Once you unfold it you let out a soft gasp. It is utterly breathtaking, it has a deep v-neck cut, spaghetti straps that don't seem very trustworthy to support you throughout the night. It has a slit in the side to give you more movement. It looks silk but has some stretch to it.

You strip down, pulling the deep green fabric over your body.

As you start to pull up the zipper in the back it suddenly gets stuck. You try to zip it three times before sighing and moving to your door. "Hey Steve, would you help me zip it up? I think it's stuck."

He looks up, meeting your eyes quickly. "Yeah of course."

You smile and turn around in the doorway as he comes up from behind you.

The fingers on your back make you shiver, you silently hope he doesn't notice the goosebumps growing on your arms. "There, just needed a little tug."

You turn facing him and realize that you are only inches away from him, you can feel his breath on your cheeks. You both meet each other's eyes, locking into his hazel eyes. You don't want to break this little trans that you're both put in, but if it goes on any longer it might get awkward. You lightly whisper, "Thank you."

He clears his throat, taking a step back, and looks you up and down. "You look beautiful." He pauses, before clearing his throat again, "T-The dress fits great."

"It does fit, very well actually." You look down at yourself, "Nothing has ever fit me this well before, thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiles at you.

"You look like a fucking goddess." Mia whispers as she finishes up applying your lipstick. "I can't get over it. God, I need a Steve in my life."

Over the past two weeks Steve has taken you to a dress shop, out to lunch, out to dinner, and just regular shopping. It feels so surreal, you feel so weird saying this but this does not feel like something that would happen to you.

"He's so sweet." You sigh, "and it's not even because he buys me things, like he refuses for me to open any door."

That hit a little too close to home. Growing up your grandpa used to yell at you if you would open the car door before he could come around the car and open the door for you. He would tell you that only a man worth keeping would open your door for you.

You smile at the memory.

You hear the doorbell and Mia seems to fucking giggle. She's truly living vicariously through you.

You walk to the door and open it to Steve who is wearing a black suit with a black button up underneath, he looked good.

"Woah-You look breathtaking, angel." He smiles.

"Thank you," You slightly whisper, "You don't look so bad yourself."

His smile seems to widen. Then his eyes drift to something behind you, you follow his gaze. "You don't have to hide, Mia."

You were surprised he remembered her name from the one time you mentioned it in a story, usually saying 'my roommate'.

"Hey, Steve." She walks out of the doorway she was hiding in, "'m not hiding, just watching from a distance."

He gives her a playful look and she just retreats to her room with her head down. "Oh, before I forget, here."

He shoves a black card into your hand. "It has twelve thousand on it, after tonight it might be closer to twenty."

"W-what?" You laugh nervously, "I thought you were joking about that whole thing."

"I'm a man of my word." He thrusts the card closer to you and you slowly take it with slightly shaky hands, "Shall we go?"

You smile and nod after shoving the card into your crossbody bag. He grabs a hold of your hand, guiding you down the stairs in your heels.

The drive was silent underneath the low sound of music from the stereo.

You travel downtown in no time and Steve drives the care into the line of the valet.

"Alright, I will be bombarded with work questions. Feel free to have as many drinks as you require, I will take you home tonight, so if it's just that painful, feel free drink your annoyance away."

"It's okay, Steve." You place your hand on his thigh, calling his rant to a stop. "I'm sure I'll be okay, you should meet my family, If I can deal with them I can deal with anything."

"Alright then." Steve nods and he looks down to his lap, that's when you pull away your hand, realizing that you had left it there.

You two join hands after he rounds the car, he helps you out and guides you up the stairs into the ballroom. The ballroom… It looked ancient, golden and white, sculptures and paintings on the ceiling. The white tiles floor is covered in circular tables.

“Let’s dance, so we can avoid the grating voices of others for just a few more minutes.” Steve speaks into your ear, guiding you onto the dance floor.

“Uh-Steve, I don’t know how to dance.”

“We must’ve gone over this, yes?”

“No.”

“Okay, that’s okay, close your eyes and let me guide you. Put your hand on my shoulder and in my hand and I’ll help you.”

You close your eyes and his warm arm settles on your waist, pulling you closer into him. The both of you dance in silence, you feel his body heat against your front, oddly comforting you.

Once the song comes to a close he guides you to your table that’s in the middle of the dinning section of the ballroom. There is a stage up ahead, with the ballroom behind, and the tables in the middle section.

You sat next to him and he called over a waiter, there were a few people that arrived before you. “This is Billy… and his date,”

Steve kind of leaves the question up in the air, not knowing her name. “Charisa.” She smiles, leaning over the table to shake your head, you see the way she pulls her shoulders together to accentuate her cleavage, but you try to ignore that, getting it, she’s a pretty woman.

“And Tommy and his wife Melanie.” He pointed to the next group, Tommy looked at you with a smirk, he was the man from the other night who refused to call you your name and you recognize Billy as the one who is seemingly allergic to scallops.

“We’ve met you before.” Billy points at you.

“Um, yes, I believe we have.” You smile with a nod, he gives you a smirk, like he knows all of your secrets, Steve rested a supporting hand on top of your thigh that is peaking out from the slit in your dress. “I think you came to the restaurant that I work at, one day.”

The table goes quiet, but Mealanie smiles, “Is this the restaurant that you went to that you said that they had the most delicious Steak? Because I want to have a group there some night, but it’s awfully full recently with the holidays coming up.”

“Yes, I do believe that that was that restaurant.” Tommy says, not breaking eye contact with you.

“I would love some help getting a reservation for it, I could do you a favor of course or repay you in some way, but I would be so appreciative.”

“Of course! I’d be happy to help.” You smile.

“Wonderful! I’d love to get your number or something so we can hookup!”

“Perfect.” You smile wider, it’s starting to hurt, you’re not quite sure how you feel about this interaction, but Steve calms your nerves by rubbing his thumb up and down your thigh.

“The waitress, Steve?” Billy laughs, shaking his head. You furrow your eyebrows, looking at Steve, he just rolls his eyes, squeezing onto your thigh.

“We’re gonna go make our rounds, okay?” Steve announced, standing up and taking ahold of your hand.

You and Steve make your rounds and you stay quietly at his side while he says hello to his business friends.

The next few hours were nothing but ‘hello’, ‘how is the family’, ‘my mom’s good, how are the kids?’. That when both you and Steve get back to the table, the auction starts.

“So since we’re not bidding on anything we’ll just sit here.” He leans back against his chair, swishing around his liquor in his glass. “Need a refill?”

“No, I don’t think I need to drink until I drop.” You smile at him, also relaxing in your chair. “I’m having a nice time with you.”

“I am too, sweetheart, It’s much less painful with you here.” He looks to you, giving you a lazy smile, his eyes seem to sparkle and you’re not sure if it’s the lighting or the alcohol.

“This is nice, Steve.” You send the lazy smile back.

“Yeah…” He trails off quietly, his eyes looking down for a moment, glancing at your lips, you thought you had imagined it but when he does it again, you know that you didn’t.

He leans in closer and when you feel like he’s about to give in and close the gap between you the man on stage loudly says, “I’ve got four hundred thousand, do I hear five hundred?”

You hear Steve sigh from next to you, looking toward the stage.

Taglist:

@glamourbabe17 @eddiesguitarskills @paradise-summertime @taeteddybear @strangerparks @ali-r3n @sunmoonandstars2000 @rvllybllply2014

(I tagged anyone that showed an interest in a part 2)

comment if you want to be added to the taglist or removed

likes and reblogs appreciated

#He is literally the loml #Live Laugh Love Steve #Spotify #steve harrington #steve harrigton x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things s4 #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington x you #Meddle About

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written-in-flowers · 2 years

Text

After Tonight...(AemondxReader)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x plussize!reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, childhood friends to lovers,

Word Count: 4k

Warnings! :oral sex (m and f receiving/giving), fingering, gagging, slight choking, creampie, roleplay(?), multiple orgasms.

Summary: After a false compliment reignites tensions, you confront your husband about his actions. He confronts you about something else.

A/N: finally, a fic of my own design! Lol, it’s really just smut tbh. Hope you guys like it, and feedback’s always appreciated <3

****

“How could you say something like that? In front of those people? Are you mad?”

You rounded on him the moment you sent your servants away. Aemond stood on the other side of the room, pouring himself a cup of wine and taking a drink. You wanted to smack it from his hand. You took in your husband’s cool and collected demeanor from across the room. Long silver hair tossed back over his shoulders, a glint of amusement in his single pale blue eye made you even more upset.

“Is this amusing to you?” you asked, glaring at him. “Do you find it amusing that you’ve broken any form of peace we might’ve had with-”

“-Oh, what peace, Y/N? Those people have no desire for peace with us,” he said, continuing to drink and not looking at you. “Did you see their faces?” he asked in a chuckle, malice glinting in his eye. “Hilarious.”

“It was not hilarious,” you retorted. “Your father asked for all of us to sup together and make amends. It’s the only way to stop all this infighting and squabbling. Rhaenyra will be queen someday whether you like it or not. Your father named her heir to the throne. I think it’d be best if we started meding bonds with her instead of burning them, before she decides-”

“-My father named her heir before he had Aegon,” he replied coolly, standing by the table, firm and still with his feet apart. “He didn’t think he'd remarry until he married my mother. He had no choice. The realm forced his hand, so he named her his heir. Then he had Aegon, and Aegon should’ve become his rightful heir. Her and her Strong boys have taken that from us.”

‘Strong boys’. The two words that ignited the kindling fires beneath the table. You scoffed, shaking your head, “Do not pretend as if that is what made you act, Aemond,” you snorted. “All because the boy laughed in your direction?” you saw his pointed avoidance of your gaze. “Luke wasn’t laughing at you, Aemond. He was laughing at the pig.”

“No, he was laughing at you.” You heard the growl in your husband’s voice. “That little bitch Rhaena muttered something to him, looked at you, and laughed. I won’t tolerate it.”

You should’ve expected as much. Many boys at court poked fun at you for your size. You’d always had your wide hips, thick thighs, fatty arms and stomach since you were small. Your mother thought sending you to court might curb your appetite, but anxiousness made you eat more. You’ve tried. You honestly had, if not for yourself then for Aemond. Tough, strong, intimidating warriors like him should have pretty, slim wives who light up rooms with their smiles and are the envy of everyone at court. He never cared what other people said; you tried feeling the same, yet the creeping sensation that you simply weren’t enough came. Prince Aemond Targaryen could have his pick of any woman in Westeros, but, instead he married you. The girl Aegon, Jace and little Luke made jokes about behind her back. You pushed aside these feelings, poured your own wine and forced yourself to swallow it.

“The jests of a boy mean nothing to me.” You hesitated, brief flashes of memories coming to you.

You recalled the roasted pig the servants placed in front of you both. Yes, how witty. So witty. You rolled your eyes. It reminded you of the Pink Dread they’d presented Aemond with in their youth. A large pig they’d gotten from the pen with dragons wings tied to its sides, Aemond told you about it during a walk you took together. He’d initially had trouble taming a dragon to bond with. All the Targaryens ride dragons, and your husband suffered teasing and bullying for not having his own. You supposed the Pink Dread coupled with being betrothed to you caused double the damage.

A sinking feeling came through your chest as the realization came. How must it feel for you? Jace and Luke only laughed whenever Aegon made snide comments about you. They’d done worse to Aemond. They’d blinded him. You couldn’t imagine the pain it must’ve brought him seeing them again after so many years. Instant guilt filled your stomach, taking up any room your wine might’ve filled.

“I’m sorry, my love,” you said, looking into your cup. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. After all the cruel jokes and then what happened with your eye…” you shook your head, “I’m being so selfish.”

You felt his eyes on you as you looked away from him. People often stared at Aemond when he walked into rooms. They saw him as a sort of monster, to be feared and never approached. So, he played into that. He became a fierce warrior and battle tactician. You knew he overheard the men in the training yard: “Aemond would’ve made a great fighter, but that eye’s gonna work against him”. He hated the stares. He hated the whispers. You worried that dinner would set him off, but you’d insisted you both attend. You’d seen him grinding his teeth, and staring daggers into the two boys in front of him. Gentle squeezes of his hand, and reassurances did nothing to calm your husband’s simmering anger. He never forgave easily, and he never forgot a slight whether real or imagined.

“I’m sorry I pushed you to go to dinner,” you said. “I knew it’d be difficult for you, but it’s the last supper we might ever have with your father, and I knew it’d make him happy to have you there. I should’ve suggested we leave or use one of the children as a reason to-”

“-I’m not upset we went. I’m glad. You have nothing to apologize for, Wife.”

‘Wife’. The word still held sway over you six years and two children later.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he told you, softness and love behind his words. You heard him step over to you, stopping until he was inches away from you. “This dress…” you felt warm hands start at your hips and slide up your sides, kneading at the rolls there, “Did you mean to tempt me with it?”

A slight warmth came to your cheeks. You’d worn a dress of dark blue-green silk with gold embroidered birds, flowers and vines along the seams. You admitted it was a bit lower cut than you’d originally intended. Your bosom pushed against the neckline, but you managed to not let it spill over. Sitting on his good eye’s side, he would’ve seen you perfectly. You’d tied up your hair with the silver comb Aemond gifted you for your nameday. It matched the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. He said he liked it when your jewels matched his. Had you worn it hoping it’d stir desire in your husband? Yes. Always. You hoped in vain it might distract him from any rash actions he might make.

“You know how much I love this gown,” you said innocently. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Or,” he brushed his lips against your ear, “You wanted me to rip it from you and ravage you as I do whenever you wear it…”

You giggled, but simply stayed in his arms as he began kissing at your neck. Nimble fingers deftly untied your dress. “You better hope your father doesn’t hear what you said tonight,” you said, knowing he wasn’t really listening, “He’ll be so upset.”

“I only paid them a compliment,” he replied, pushing your sleeves down your arms. “It’s not my fault if they think they’re not strong.”

“That is not what you meant, and you know it,” you accused.

“It is no secret what they are,” he said. “You’ve seen them.”

Yes, you have seen them. Jacaryes and Luceryes should’ve had the dark skin of their Velaryon father or the coloring of their silver-haired Targaryen mother. Instead, the two princes had brown hair and dark eyes; much like that of Harwin Strong, the former commander of the city watch. The sworn sword and champion of Princess Rhaenyra. But, nobody dared to say it out loud; it was an act of treason. For your husband to say it, even laced in a false compliment, soured things quickly. You had no real love for their family, but you’d promised your mother-in-law you’d keep things civil. You congratulated Rhaena and Baela on their betrothals to Jace and Luke. You asked Jace how his Valryian lessons were coming along, and asked Baela about going on at Driftmark. You wanted to be friends with them, putting aside the bitter memories of your youth.

Once your dress fell at your feet, Aemond worked on the lacings of your undergarments. The thin layer of cloth kept Aemond’s hands from your delicate skin. You could feel every digit caressing your body, molding it and pressing on points he knew made you gasp. You turned to face him, staring into his face and seeing the lust in his eyes. Carefully, you cupped his cheek. Your thumb grazed over the scar peeking out from his eyepatch. He only wore it when at court, to not disturb the other ladies who might be more squeamish. It never bothered you. You lifted his eyepatch off. He flinched for a brief moment, but a gentle touch of your hand calmed him. In the eye socket where a pale blue eye should be, was a dark sapphire. The jeweler who’d made it rounded it to resemble an eye, but Aemond asked for it to remain its natural color.

“I remember thinking you’d die,” you huffed a laugh. “The wound was so terrible and bled so much.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “I got Vhagar in return.” He paused, “I got you.”

Heat came around your neck and cheeks again, bringing on a smile. You remember the moment vividly. The morning after his injury he'd come to your quarters at Driftmark. Unannounced, uninvited, the prince stood in your chambers, pale and silver with determination on his face. Claiming his own dragon brought out a fire in him that never went out. You recalled studying him there. You’d gotten wounds of your own, little scratches and cuts, but nothing compared to his pain. The stark contrast of the stitched wound on his ivory skin was more shocking in the morning light. You somewhat liked the effect.

‘My prince, you should be resting.’

‘There is something I wanted to tell you, my lady, before we depart home.’

‘What is it?’

“An absurd thing for a twelve-year-old boy to say,” you said softly, unbuckling his belt from his waist. You unbuttoned his doublet and lifted it off him. “‘I have my dragon’,” you quoted, “‘Now, I want my wife.’ I believe that is what you said.”

“And I got you,” he said, pecking your lips. “I told my mother I would never want another girl. No girl would do for me what you did that night.”

“Blatantly lie to the king about what happened in the tunnel?”

“No…defend me.”

You did recall tearing Rhaena off Aemond as she and the others began hitting him. The both of you tussled around on the ground, pulling at each other’s hair and scratching each other’s faces. You’d never fought before, but your weight and size certainly worked in your favor. Her sister eventually joined the fray, pulling you off to punch at you, but the three of you stopped once Jace pulled out his blade.

“I never thought I’d have anyone on my side,” he said, “But you were there. You always are. You tore at them. You hit them. You made them pay, in what little way you could. Then you told my father they attacked us. You defended me.”

“And I’d do it again, if I had to.”

Sliding his hand on the nape of your neck, he brought you to his lips. The taste of the vintage wine lingered on both your tongues, sweetening the already heated kiss. You untied the fastenings of his clothes, removing them piece by piece until nothing separated you. His hard body stoked a fire inside you. You ran your hands down his chest to his stomach, finally landing just above his cock. A low rumble from his chest beckoned you to keep going as he pressed himself to you. Warm, with the faint smell of violets lingering on his skin from his clothes, you fell further into your bliss as his hands slipped down your waist to your backside. Plump and soft, his hands kneaded them so that you whimpered against his lips.

“I liked it,” you said between kisses, running your hand over his member and feeling it twitch on your palm.

“Liked what?” he asked. He brought one hand up to your breast, palming it and squeezing gently.

You broke your lips from his, licking his bottom lip, “Watching you mock them. I liked seeing their eyes flicker with fear when you stood up, staring them down with that hard look of yours.” You grabbed his shaft just to hear him grunt, “Being the strong, clever, slightly intimidating man you’ve become. I’ll admit,” you slowly began pumping him, watching his head roll back, “It aroused me for a moment.”

“I know,” he smirked, eyes still closed. “I know it isn’t by chance that you end up in the training yard some mornings.”

“I quite enjoy watching you fight. I always have. I love my strong,” you pecked at his neck, “Handsome,” you pecked the other side, “Clever husband who fucks me like a whore and treats me like a queen.”

“Which would you like tonight?” he suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked it, “A whore or a queen?”

“You’re a smart man,” you brought him over to the bed and straddled a corner, “You figure it out.”

His cock at level with you, you carefully lifted it to your mouth and slid your tongue underneath. Aemond did not respond with anything except a soft sigh. You kept your eyes on him as you licked him from base to tip, and then back down. Veins pump blood into his member, which pulsates against the flat of your tongue each time you traced over them. Blond hair curtaining his face, the shade darkened his features leaving his sapphire eye standing out more. You didn’t focus on it. You focused on the pink, bulbous tip that gradually turned red when you swirl your tongue around it. By the time you slid him into your mouth, moaning softly, Aemond’s hands already grasped your hair. He did not force you down immediately; he let you start the pace, enjoying your lips sucking his throbbing cock. Hands grasping his muscled thighs, you kept yourself steady while you slid him towards your throat.

You only ever told one person where you learned the intimate art of love making. It was considered unbecoming and inappropriate for a noble lady to wander into a brothel disguised as a street urchin to watch the women there pleasure their customers. You never let yourself be touched, yet you’d observed at a hefty price. Aemond nearly choked on his wine when you revealed it to him on your wedding night. Yet, he quickly got over his shock when you laid him back and let you show him what you learned. You never fully mastered taking it to the back of your throat like some women did, but Aemond never pressed you. He stood there and let you practice on him sometimes after training or dinner. He gave a low groan when his tip pressed there, the groan mixing with your soft choking each time you did it. You massaged your thumbs into his inner thighs, close to his ballsack; his hips pushed into your face slightly at the new sensation. The longer you went on, the needier your husband became. Soon, he fisted your hair to keep you still so he stuck himself further into your throat. You let him guide you along his considerable length, your own sex beginning to ache for his touch. He saw you start to slip your hand between your thighs before he snatched it by the wrist. Without a word, he took both your wrists and held them at his sides to bring you forward.

“The only person,” he grunted, “Who touches your cunt is me.”

His words made your clit throb again. You slowly grind your hips into the bed, which he seemed to allow so you could whimper around his cock. You imagined him throwing you onto the bed, forcing your legs apart and taking you however he wanted. The strength and formidable aura he oozed at the dinner table came back to you. How he’d stared coldly at Jace when he stood up at the table, angry with Aegon for his crude comments to Baela. How he sparred with Ser Cole earlier in the day, moving quick and precise in each maneuver. You wished to feel him everywhere. You wanted to feel the hard muscles and lines of his body; feel his heart beating faster while you rode him. You tried saying his name with your mouth full, a thing you knew he enjoyed. He laughed when he heard your muffled words.

“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing in his tone, “What was that?” You pleaded his name again, rocking your hips more and more for some form of friction. “Is there something you need?”

He slid himself far enough that his tip laid on your tongue still, and you said, “Your tongue, my prince. Your tongue,” you licked the underside, “Your fingers, your cock. Please, Your Grace.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” he said, releasing your hands and taking hold of himself. You stuck out your tongue for him to rub overt, tapping his tip there before you sucked on it. “I quite like it this way. You look so pretty drooling and begging me for more…like a filthy whore who can’t seem,” he plunged back into your mouth, “To get enough.”

You moaned with him this time, continuing to rub yourself on the corner of the bed as he kept a slow pace. The light brushes of the soft sheets against your aching sex felt torturous. The right spot refused to be touched, so the same teasing feeling came each time. Eventually, seeing streams of drool and precum follow, Aemond withdrew from you fully and pushed you onto your back.

“Which part did you aim to please, slut?” he asked, the slur dripping from his lips with seduction. He trailed two long fingers down your belly to the top of your mound. You flinched feeling them trail circles down to the crevasse of your folds. “Was it here?” he traced them lightly over the slit of your cunt, dipping his finger only to graze over the hood of your clit. “Perhaps underneath then?” he brushed it back up underneath the hard nub, making you tremble. He chuckled darkly at your response and continued doing it with his thumb. You gripped the sheets under you as his thumb then slid over your clit, “But what about right here? It seems to please you the most.”

“Do not act as if you don’t know…A-Aemond…” you breathed, the slow movements driving you crazy.

“I only wish to educate myself on what pleases my whore the most,” he began making soft trails of kisses down your inner thighs, “Well enough that she’ll never want another.”

The wetness that leaked from you made his thumb’s movements slicker. He did careful circles around your sex, sometimes sliding towards your entrance before coming back up. He knew exactly what made your toes curl, and had you longing for him. A drastic difference from your wedding night. You brought one of his hands to your breasts for him to fondle while Aemond buried his face between your thighs. He worked his tongue in languid laps against your open folds while his fingers pinched your nipple hard. The slight tingle of pain made you raise your hips to his tongue again.

You yelped in surprise when he slid both fingers inside your cunt, dragging them along the walls in a soft, delicate pace. He kept licking your sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue while he focused on the fingers inside you. The sensations coupled together were too much to bear.

"Aemond…Aemond…" you muttered his name, the tension inside you building tighter and tighter.

"I know," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs, his thumb replacing his tongue's movements. "Let go for me."

Your body immediately obeyed. His fingers kept the same gentle speed as your walls squeezed them. You reached down to grab his wrist, keeping it in place for more. Smirking, Aemond let his fingers wiggle against the most sensitive of spots. You saw stars when you closed your eyes. Your body might've burst into a thousand and one pieces with every shuddering wave.

He didn't give you a single second. Pushing you further up the bed, Aemond forced your legs further apart and slipped into you. Hands pinning down your wrists, his lips found yours as he started rocking into you. Your juices still on his lips and tongue, you licked them clean. You pussy throbbed from being stimulated again, but you could not let go. You didn't want him to stop. You'd needed him all night.

"Such a good whore," he jeered, starting to slam his hips into yours, "Laying here like a good girl and letting me take it how I want."

"Only for you, Your Grace. Only…for…"

He knelt up, and you saw the sheer size of him. Long limbed, you gazed on the pale sculpted figure above you. Silver hair falling around him, dark sapphire glinting, he was otherworldly. You never thought you'd have a man like him. Women like you did not get what they wanted, it was plain and simple. Women like you took what they got and adapted, because otherwise, you ended up an old maid. You didn't want that. You began bouncing against him so your breasts moved, and his eyes immediately fell on them. Letting go of your hands, he bent down and grasped them. Sparks of pleasure coursed back through you as he kissed and bit all over them. You didn't think you could handle it a second time. It didn't stop when his thumb found your clit again, and he moved it in time with his thrusts. The oversensitive spot tingled throughout your body; his touch felt ten times more apparent than before.

"Your Grace," you mumbled, your thoughts forcing themselves together, "I think I might…I…"

At this, he angled you upwards and kept short strokes. The tip of his cock touched right on it again, your eyes rolling back to the strong sensation inside you. It felt like a knot being tightened and tightened until finally it snapped, and you were rutting up against him like an animal. Your second orgasm hit you hard, a strong force that made you lose control. You felt long fingers rest against your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you there. This new restraint, and the struggle of oxygen it brought, strengthened your climax instead of softening it. Your screams came slightly gurgled, but nobody else needed to hear. Your moans were for Aemond’s ears only.

Unable to withhold himself any longer, Aemond took a few more pumps before he came. The hot cum filling you brought on a blissful satisfaction. His held tilted back, eyes closed shut and lips parted, your husband resembled a sculpture. A beautiful one. You ran your nails down his chest to his stomach to feel his tense muscles spasm in every squeeze. He kept thrusting until he'd drained every drop into you. Would you feel soreness in your muscles tomorrow? Yes. Would you regret it? Not at all.

He fell onto his side next to you, blond hairs stuck to his forehead from sweat and a hazy sleepiness in his eyes. You tried your best to regain your breath and strength to even move. You turned your head to see him; you looked over his profile for every detail you can point out. Nobody ever made you feel so safe; so secure and comfortable in your own skin. You rolled onto your side and draped your arm and leg over half of him. He welcomed the cuddle and let you rest your head on his arm, so his hand fell near your hair, where he played with the ends of it idly. Neither you spoke as you basked in each other’s warmth; only smiling and sharing a soft kiss before a voice broke out into the room.

"Well, it's good to see my brother knows how to pleasure a woman."

“Aegon!”

“Aegon, you twat!”

With wicked quickness, Aemond grabbed the nearest object and flung it at his brother, who stood a few feet from your bed. The blond boy laughed as he dodged it. Seeing his brother’s flustered face and you scrambling to cover yourself with sheets, Aegon cackled.

“Mother sent me to come get you,” Aegon said through his laughter, “But, um, I’ll tell her you and Lady Y/N are indisposed right now.”

“You prick, Aegon! Don’t you know how to knock?!” You launched a pillow at him, which hit the man square in the face.

“I didn’t want to interrupt!” he laughed, cheeks red as he walked backwards. “You two seemed to be having a good time!”

“Get out!” you and Aemond yelled in unison.

You watched him leave. You both continued to hear him laughing even after he shut the doors. Aemond flung back onto the pillows in a sigh and you rested next to him.

“Seven Hells,” you cursed, “He’s never going to shut up about it now.”

“Well, if he does, I can just casually remind him in front of a group of people how I once found him in a brothel tied to a pole blindfolded with a woman and a sheep in the room.”

“I’m sorry, but you found him doing what?” you asked in pure disgust.

“Yes,” he nodded, “He claims that the sheep just happened to be there, but I don’t think anyone would believe him.”

The both of you met each other’s gaze and then laughed. You curled back up to him again, his warmth keeping the chill from coming over you, and rested on him. You felt his seed stick between your legs. You hoped. You prayed that, maybe, a child would quicken there. You worried about what tonight’s events might rekindle, and the fallout from that dinner. It was nothing; a snide remark that can be forgiven if done at the right time. Perhaps Alicent will smooth things over, and the king will never hear of it. He is so old and very ill. You hated thinking Viserys died knowing his last effort to mend his family was broken so carelessly.

“You worry too much,” Aemond’s voice broke through your sleepiness. “Don’t let it bother your pretty head anymore.”

“You don’t worry enough,” you replied, shutting your eyes and letting him pull the sheets over you both.

“I do worry. I worry about you,” you felt his lips peck the top of your head. “Now, sleep.”

And so you did in your husband’s arms, the place you were meant to be.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond smut #aemond fluff #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd s1 #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines

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gemini-sensei · 1 year

Text

Tutor!Demetri Alexopoulos x Mean Girl!Chubby!Reader

Fem!reader 💘 smut 💘

CW: monstercock!Demetri, teasing, rough fingering, pussyjob, size kink/difference, kind of bitchy reader, pet name (good girl), little to no prep, unprotected sex, probably more tbh 👀

@sensei-venus (unedited)

"Are you even listening?"

Reader looked up from her phone, an unapologetically bored look on her face. "No."

Demetri frowned. When he'd agreed to tutor a struggling student, he'd thought that it would be something nice to do while getting another cool thing to add to his college applications. However, had he known who his tutee was going to be, he wouldn't have agreed to it in all honesty.

Reader was a mean spirited but sly girl. She could smile to someone's face and give them a compliment, then turn around and talk shit about them behind their backs. A single tweet from her could put anyone to shame, no questions asked, and she could make people cry with a look. She made people feel bad about themselves because she walked around in designer jeans and blouses like it was nothing. Most people didn't believe she was a girl anymore and had long been replaced by a demon, but that was neither here nor there.

Surely if she were getting graded for bitchiness, she'd get an A+.

And if Demetri had to compare her to a goddess, it would have to be Aphrodite purely for her vanity.

Sitting in her big cushy mansion while trying to tutor her was beyond infuriating, but Demetri had more patience than most people. He guessed that was why the school staff had chosen him to work with her, but there had been little work being done. It was so hard to get her to focus, but once he had her attention, it was soon lost because she just didn't care.

"Why am I even here?" he asked.

She shrugged and looked back down at her phone. "You're welcome to leave anytime you want. It's not like I care."

Her thumbs tapped away at her phone and she went on to ignore him. He rolled his eyes, ready to pack up and get out of there. This was a waste of time, he decided, and he didn't see the point in staying. However, before he got too far into closing up the books, she leans across him and reached for his calculator.

"I need this," she said, as if she had ownership over anything he had brought there. Though he was less focused on her tone and more engrossed in her tits that sat in his face while she stretched her arm out for the device. Then she sat back with it in her hand and started punching numbers into it. "There's this dress I've had my eye on for a while, but daddy said it's too much to get. But I just got a text saying it was on sale at another store, so if it's a reasonable percent off, maybe I can talk him into finally getting it for me."

Demetri didn't really hear most of what she said. He was too busy staring at her tits as they sat in her low cut top.

It was hard to deny that Reader was smoking hot. She had soft curves and cute round cheeks. Her outfits always accentuated her figure and showed off her best assets. When she wore dresses, they always put her thick thighs on display; her tits bounced when she hurried through the halls in heels; the school's gym uniform hugged her belly deliciously. She was beautiful

Some guys didn't like big girls, not appreciating them or treating them right, which Demetri thought should be a crime. Reader ignored those that criticized her body and focused on herself, which included all the nice clothes and hanging out with her friends.

It did not include paying attention in class or being seem with the likes of Demetri Alexopoulos of all people. It was how he ended up at her house in the first place, because she needed to be tutored but did not want to be seen getting help at a place like the library. Never mind the fact that it felt borderline inappropriate to be there at all, especially with her parents away on vacation. It-

"Oh my god!"

Her voice cut through his train of thought and he blinked, looking at her with burning cheeks. Her mouth was hanging open and he was ready to apologize for staring, but he was quick to see that her eyes were cast downward. As he realizesld what she was marveling at, his cock twitched and she gasped.

His jeans were extremely tight and he was only just noticing. His cock was stuffed down one leg of his pants and he was now painfully aware of how noticeable it was. His hardness created a rather sizable buldge along his thigh and it seem Reader was intrigued.

She looked up at him, licking her lips before she smiled at him. Suddenly, her grin was so mean. If anything, it was too sweet.

"Who knew you were so... big."

And there's the backhanded compliment, he thought. However, he couldn't really focus to that part of it because her attention was all on him now. Her desirable gaze was burning hot and unlike anything he'd ever reviewed before. He shamelessly loved it.

"Why don't you and I forget all this math work and head upstairs?" she asked, scooting closer to him. She put her hand on his thigh and slowly moved it inward.

When her hand came to his cock, she gave it a light squeeze and he groaned. She giggled and he looked at her, getting an idea.

"Or maybe, you get some of this work done and then maybe we could go upstairs," he said. He phrased it as a suggestion, but there was no real options aside from do the work or don't get cock.

She pouted and whined, "but I can't. It's too hard."

He smirked at her. "That's why I'm here, to help you."

He then pulled her onto his lap and situated her to sit right on his boner. She gasped while he groaned, both feeling the way his clothed cock pressed against the underside of her thighs. He put his arms around her and leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. She tensed up a bit as he breathed down her neck, sending shivers straight to her cunt and she clenched her thighs together.

He took up a pencil and put it in her hand, them laid his hand over hers and brought it to the paper. "I'll show you how to do the first problem, but then you have to do the rest on your own. Got it?"

"Mhm," she hummed softly and watched his guiding hand.

As she goes down the sheet, Demetri mumbles in her ear whether she's doing it right or wrong, telling her how to fix her little mess ups. Meanwhile, his hands are roaming her body; from her waist down to her hips and thighs. He slips a hand between her pudgy thighs and slide it up her dress, making Reader gasp.

"You're doing so good," he mumbledinto her ear, his hand creeping closer to her hot center. "Keep going."

She slowly spread her legs a little wider to give him more room and he lays his palm over her mound. His fingers began to inspect her panties, which were already a little damp from her catching sight of his bulge. He slid his fingers up and down her clothed pussy, making her whimper softly. Then he pulled the material to the side and pushed two fingers between her folds, finding her wetness and spreading it all over her entrance.

With his touches, Reader began to lose focus. Her pencil stopped moving as she whined, wiggling her hips in an attempt to get more friction against her sensitive lower lips. But as her pencil work stopped, Demetri pulled away.

"Finish the last problem, then I'll touch this wet little pussy."

She looked at him, pouty and desperate, but he didn't say anything more. So she turned to the sheet and worked out the problem. When she was finished, she showed it to him. "Like this?"

He gave it a short once over and smirked. "Just like that." Then he took the paper from her and turned it over, revealing more problems. "Now do this side."

"But-" She cut herself off with a moan as he pushed a long finger into her tight cunt.

He started off moderately slow, dipping his digit in and out of her hole as she worked on the sheet. When she was halfway down, he added another finger and stretched her out on them. He rubbed them against her walls pointedly and especially massaged her g-spot, making her shake in his lap. He groaned as she wiggled and moved, grinding on his hard cock while trying to stay focused. Her hole was gripping him tight, leaking fluid onto his jeans and all over his hand.

As she got closer to the end, he started finger fucking her hard. She let out a little scream and tried closing her legs, but it didn't deter or slow him down. Lewd, wet smacks came from between her legs as he quickly shoved his fingers in and out, eventually adding a third. As she shakily wrote the last few numbers of her answer, he used his other hand to rub her swollen clit.

In seconds, she was coming on his fingers, squirting hard. A torrent of liquid gushed from her hole and splashed the table in front of them, wetting the papers and books they'd been looking at for hours, ruining them. Several bursts of her juices made a mess of not just the table, but her pretty thighs and his jeans. He rode her through it, feeling the way her walls squeezed around his fingers.

When he pulled them out, he put them in his mouth and lapped up the dripping wetness. He hummed around them until he pulled them out with a smacking pop, then turned to her trembling figure. "You taste so good."

She looked at him, flustered and speechless. Her panting breaths fanned his face and he dove in to kiss her, putting his hand on her cheek to pull her in. She tasted herself on his lips and even more so on his tongue when he shoved it into her mouth.

They made out for a moment before he guided her to stand up, their lips disconnecting for only a moment before she's turned herself to face him and straddle his lap. Their hands gripped each other, putting their lips together again. His hands grabbed her waist and he started pushing and pulling her along his hips, grinding her hot, sensitive core along his straining jeans. It sent shivers and electric jolts of pleasure up her body and she whined against his lips.

The grinding didn't last long before he gently pushed her away. "Get up."

She nodded gently and did as he asked, standing in front of him and watching as he undid his jeans and shoved them down his legs. They only got to his mid thigh before he was shoving his boxers down and releasing his hard, aching cock. It stood at attention, tip red and angry with a bit of pre leaking out of his slit.

Reader gasped as she finally saw his cock for the first time. It looked a lot bigger than it did in his pants and she began to ask her self if she was going to be able to take it. She rubbed her thighs together as she whined, "It's so big."

Demetri sat back, pumping himself as he looked up at her. "And it's all for you."

More pre cum bubbled out and spilled down the side of his cock, but wasn't nearly enough to lube him up for her tight cunt.

"Come here," he ordered and she stepped forward. He grabbed her hips and guided her to sit on his lap, cock sandwiched between his stomach and her soaked pussy lips. As he stared up at her, he started rocking her against him and she got the idea fast.

She anchored her hands onto his shoulders and slid her pussy over his cock, coating him with her wetness, but they didn't spend much time doing that. He lifted her hip off of him and she hovered over his lap while hie positioned his cock to her entrance. When the bulbous tip met her folds, she moaned and eased herself down onto him. He helped to guide her, watching her lips pout as the head popped into her tight cunt.

"Oh fuck," she let out as she sank down further. Though the tip of his cock felt like a feat in itself to get inside of her, she didn't let it deter her. Her grip tightened, though, the more of his cock she took, and he learned she had a dirty fucking mouth. "Fuck fuck fuck! Ohmygod!"

Demetri held her hips and stopped her when he met resistance halfway down. She felt so good wrapped around him, at least what she could take, but he couldn't help wanting more. He wanted to bury his cock in her all the way to the hilt.

She looked to see how much of him was left to talk and her eyes widened and she whined. She already felt so full, but there was still so much more of him to take. Looking back up, she leaned into him more and wrapped her arms around him, pouting her lips at him. Then she whimpered his name, "Demetri~"

His brain just fizzled out at that and he lifted her hips and pulled her back down on him, working her on his cock. She moaned loudly, a little unprepared for his initiative, but wasn't complaining. Her pussy was wrapped around his cock tight, stretched to what she thought was the limit, but he steadily proved her wrong with each movement he made. It stung some, but that only added to the pleasure in the long run because his shaft was rubbing against those special spots along her walls.

"You gonna take my cock?" he asked her, watching her face as bliss warmed her cheeks. They were mere inches away from each other and he could smell the sweetness on her breath of candy and fruity drinks.

A small noise came from the back of her through, something between a hum and a squeak. Then she mumbled, "Yeah..."

"You think this tight little pussy can take it?"

"Y-Yeah..."

He licked his lips and watched her carefully, then pushed her down on his cock, shoving the entirety of his length into her wet, clenching hole. She squealed, holding him close as her body began to shake. She hid her face in his neck and whimpered. It was by far the biggest cock she'd ever taken and she wasn't entirely prepped for it, but as they sat like that for a moment, her walls started to relax around him.

"Good girl," he told her, then kissed the side of her head. He rubbed her hips in small circles, helping her to relax as she got used to the feeling of being utterly stuffed full. His lips dragged along her ear as he whispered, "Such a good girl for me."

Involuntarily, her hips lightly bucked at the pet name. He groaned but smirked and moved his hands up her sides, groping her rolls on her waist and belly. She didn't move again for a little while, then buried her face into his neck and peppered small kisses along his skin. She started swiveling her hips, moaning against his skin. He let her move at her own pace, feeling the way he was stretching her out so deeply.

She steadily worked her way up to a moderate pace, grinding her hips against his hard. When she was comfortable and found a rhythm, she picked up her head and smashed her lips against his. He groaned into her mouth and wound his arms around her, putting his hands on her back. They made out heavily as she rode him, both extremely satisfied with how she'd been able to take him. It was hot and messy, full of loud moans and whimpers. Her pussy was gushing around him, keeping him lubed up to the point it was dripping down his balls and staining the couch under them. It made their thighs wet and slippery, making it easy for her to glide on his lap.

Eventually, their lips parted and they panted hot air into one another's faces. Then he pulled at her dress and pulled the straps down her arms, along with the straps to her bra. Soon, he was pulling her tits out and playing with them, taking one into his mouth while fondling the other.

"Oh my god..." she sighed, feeling the knot in her stomach growing tighter. Her walls began to squeeze him harder and she moved her hips on him faster, grinding harder. "I'm gonna come..."

He looked up at her, swirling his tongue around her hardened nipple. He abandoned her other tit and grabbed her hip, helping her keep pace. When he was done playing with her nipple, he pulled off of it and left it puffy and spit covered. "You're gonna come on my big cock, aren't you?"

She looked at him and nodded desperately. She was climbing higher and higher, her head becoming dizzy with pleasure. "Yes... oh god! It feels so good! I- Ohmygod! Demetri!"

She screamed as her orgasm tore through her, body racked with pleasure. She shook on his lap as she creamed on his cock, her cunt milking him for all that he was worth. In an attempt to keep it going, to make him come too, she tried to continue moving her hips on him, but it was hard. Her arms were wrapped around him in an iron grip and her head was hazy. All she could do was feel the euphoria.

But it was okay. Demetri kept her moving, moving her back and forth on his lap as her eyes rolled up. The creamy ring she left around his cock became frothy, making an even bigger mess. He basically used her like his own special toy until the constricting on her velvet walls had his balls drawing up and dumping a fat, hot load. He stopped everything, wrapping his arms around her as his cock shot off like a firehose in her spasming cunt, making sure his tip was pressed against her puckering cervix so she got every thick rope of cum he was giving her.

He sat back, holding her to his chest as she moaned and sighed in bliss. Her head fell onto his shoulder as he filled her up. She felt like she was gonna pop she was so full of cock and cum, but if that wasn't the best feeling in the world, then she didn't know what was.

As they came down from their highs, his cock began to soften, but it didn't change much in size. It still felt like she was utterly full. When she moved to get off of him, he hissed and she moaned - except now it was with a lot more pain. Her hips and thighs were burning and her pussy was sore. She settled back to where she was and sighed.

"Maybe just... uh, wait until I'm not hard anymore," Demetri mumbled.

She nodded in agreement against his shoulder, very much tired after achieving such a feat. After a moment of silence though, she lifted her head and looked at him. He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled.

"You can come over and teach me anything you want, okay?"

His cock twitched at hearing the implication in her voice and knew he'd be coming back, regardless if they got any actual tutoring done or not...

#mean girl!reader #bully!reader #demetri alexopoulos smut #cobra kai demetri #demetri x reader #demetri alexopoulos x reader #demetri alexopoulos #demetri alexopoulos headcanons #cobra kai smut #smut thoughts #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai x chubby reader #cobra kai x plus size reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #gemini sensei

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cantdothis-nomore · 1 year

Note

Raven, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Robin with a reader who is afraid of the dark

EEEEE thank you for the request I've been waiting for some for a little bit and I love teen titans so I enjoyed writing this, thank you for the request and I hope you request more!

Raven

She'd probably find it quite funny at first tbh because of her LITERALLY being a demon and darkness is literally her lmao

She would make sure that her room was as lit as possible when you were in there as not to freak you out

She'd make sure to always carry a torch or something to produce light with her at all times incase a fight went on into the night or just incase they were out late at night and it got really dark

She wouldn't invalidate your phobia, yes she would find it a bit funny considering herself but she would try and find ways for you to get round it and get more comfortable with being in the dark

She'd make sure that any rooms you and her went into had a light on to make you feel safe

She wouldn't force you to be in the dark and face your fear but would try and find why your scared and find a good method of getting the fear out of you

She'd be really kind about it and would probably beat up anyone who mocked you for your fear because she didn't want you to feel that she wasn't someone that you could trust when she was

Raven would try her best to understand your fear and look at it from your point of view

Overall she'd be really sweet and kind and try and help you as much as she could <3

Cyborg

Mans u got yourself a twin bro

This man is PETRIFIED of the dark in the series on Netflix

He wouldn't be able to do much but if it got dark you and him would basically just cling to each other and hope for the best 💀

If you be screaming, he do be screaming too

As he's literally like 75% robot he'd obviously have a light on him 24/7

When it got dark you and him would both huddle around it and stay there until a light was turned on

After finding out that you were afraid of the dark he didn't feel as though his fear was invalid as much anymore because someone else had it too so it wasn't much of a big deal

When it got dark or the power cut out he'd be using you as his shield while you're trying to use him as yours lol

Neither of you are much help to each other you're more of a nuisance by making each others fear get worse from just being around each other

Again if the power cut out you'd both probably be saying really positive things to each other whilst knowing you were only saying it for yourselves 💀

The titans would be sick of you two being together within a minute of you both screeching if something moved or even looked like it moved

Beast Boy

He'd find it quite funny at first actually

You and his best friend being scared of the dark was comical to him

He'd support you and try and show you that the dark wasn't actually that bad but you weren't having any of it lmao

He'd randomly switch of lights while you were in that room to try and catch you off guard and see if that method helped for getting you over your fear

News flash, it didn't.

If there was any sort of power outage you'd be stuck to him like glue for the entirety of it scared out your mind bro

You and cyborg would be besties

He would search up on Google how to get people over their fear of the dark to help you and try each of them out at different times each of which ended up with him basically getting slapped in either the face or kicked straight into his side depending on how badly he scared you

You knew he meant well it just wasn't working

Like raven, beast boy would try and get to the bottom of what made you scared of the dark and try and use that to get you over your fear almost

He'd give up after a little while because that fear of yours was not budging for the life of him and you had assured him that it had been with you your whole life so would be quite hard to get rid of anyways

He only means well 🥺

Robin

This is going to be hella short

Mans straight up would laugh

He wouldn't understand for the life of him why you were scared of the dark and wouldn't feed into the fear either

Yes he'd hug you and make you feel safe when it got really dark because he does actually have a heart you know

But he wouldn't talk to you about it because out of everyone he's the only one that realises that it's pretty much useless

He wouldn't invalidate the fear but he wouldn't do anything about it either because there isn't anything he can do apart from let you deal with it and hope for the best

He would try his best and comfort you but when it came to sorting the fear out you were on your own there

#raven x reader #raven teen titans #raven roth #cyborg x reader #cyborg #cyborg teen titans #beast boy x reader #beast boy #beast boy teen titans #robin x reader #robin #robin teen titans #teen titans x reader #teen titans

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novoaa1writes · 1 year

Text

worthy

pairing(s): queen ramonda x reader, queen ramonda & okoye (platonic)

summary:

“No.” You’re quick to stop her, scurrying forth and taking her hand in yours. Speaking out of turn, laying hands upon a member of the royal family… all punishable offenses. If the Dora Milaje saw it, they’d have you face-first on the ground surrounded in a ring of gleaming spearheads before you could blink. But now, here, she is not Wakanda’s Queen. She is Ramonda—your Ramonda.

Her hand is warm and lax in yours, and the way she’s looking at you… so open, so trusting. So patient. “This is my home, s’thandwa. A place where I feel safe and loved. But it cannot be that if you do not feel it, too.”

Or: Okoye can be a little overprotective sometimes, especially when it comes to Ramonda. You cannot fault her for it.

cross-posted on ao3.

word count: ~1,600

rating: general audiences

warnings: spoilers? for wakanda forever? i guess? tbh the only “spoiler” here is just that i mention ramonda’s hair in brief detail, because it’s different from the first movie’s look. also vague allusions to reader’s past relationship(s) being not terribly fulfilling.

notes: reader’s gender is not specified here. with me, i write these with the reader-insert characters in mind being typically female, non-binary, or transmasc, but it’s really all up to you

— —

The Queen returns in a mood. The way she strides through the rounded entrance to her chambers with downturned lips and all the intrepidity of a woman on a mission is enough to tell you as much.

You’d only been lounging about in her chambers for a short time, having stopped to visit with Shuri in the laboratory on your way over.

You were not native to Wakanda; as such, your visits spanned few and far between. Though, admittedly, that had been subject to change as of late—what with your increasing… familiarity (for lack of a better term) with her Queen.

With this familiarity, you were granted certain privileges. The most obvious one being: You were permitted access to her private chambers—yes, even when they were empty. A weighty concession, to say the least.

The others, though not quite so rife with implication, were no less significant: You could walk freely around Birnin Zana as you pleased, provided you wore a set of Kimoyo beads and checked in with Ramonda—or someone she trusted—every hour or so. As guest of the Queen, you were permitted an additional (non-Wakandan) companion to Wakanda—that is, a plus-one—provided that they were vetted first by the Dora Milaje, and second by the Queen herself. You’d never exercised that particular exemption, and did not foresee a point in time that would find you doing so—but the offer was there all the same, and its connotation was not lost on you.

And so on, and so forth.

These allowances aside, your, shall we say, place in Wakanda is in its infancy, still. Fragile, one might say. Since the start, the Wakandan sentiment towards you has ranged from wary acceptance to unequivocal mistrust.

… This, as evidenced by Okoye’s unwavering presence at the doors of Ramonda’s chambers. She’s been watching you like a hawk since the moment you arrived, spear poised, ready to strike at any moment.

You’ve not bothered asking her why she does so. Despite what people seem to think, there do indeed exist stupid questions, and that would unequivocally be one of them. Similarly, you do not dare do her the injustice of attempting to offer any well-meaning sentiments, or assurances that you do not seek to do the Queen—or Wakanda—any harm. Actions speak louder than words, they say. And Okoye—who’s said scarcely more than five of them to you since your first meeting—quite plainly agrees.

You do try. You tell her ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye,’ and, when the setting permits, you’ll even ask her how she is, or communicate that you hope she is faring well. (More often the latter, since any question you ask of her—those excluding an official matter—are continually left unanswered.)

It helps that you’re not white, as Shuri told you. Ramonda had scoffed at her daughter’s impudence, but did not disagree.

And yet, the fact remains that you are not Wakandan—nor African, even—and before you lies a long, uphill path to gaining the Wakandan people’s esteem. For better or for worse, you are determined to climb it.

Regardless—in the present moment, you shut the book you’d been reading when Ramonda enters, turning to give her your full attention. She displays no indication that she’s noticed you, merely dismisses both of her trailing attendants and Okoye with a wave of the hand and a quiet, “Out.”

The attendants exit swiftly, and Okoye is quick to follow—though, not before giving you a look. You imagine it translates (roughly) to: If you make this worse, I will not hesitate to skewer you.

You give the barest hint of a nod in reply, but it is in vain—Okoye is gone. The doors shut behind her with a quiet noise, leaving you and the Queen alone.

Wordlessly, Ramonda divests herself of her headpiece—a gorgeous, deep-purple, crown-like thing—and discards it neatly on the dresser. Her hair is shorter these days, a neatly-trimmed ‘fro with springy, platinum-white strands. You know it was not done out of vanity, but you cannot help thinking it suits her all the same.

As you watch, her eyelids flutter shut and she lets loose a long, measured exhale. You can practically see the tension seeping out of her; the taut line of her shoulders easing, the furrow between her brows dissipating. The queenly affect, the burden of her crown—all of it seems to divest itself of her in waves. And, in its wake: the woman herself, tall and proud.

Your heart clenches, strangled with affection (and, perhaps, something stronger), but you do not speak. You dare not tarnish the moment. You know all too well that it is likely the first truly quiet moment she’s had all day.

You’re content to wait patiently until her eyelids flutter open and her calm gaze sweeps the room, seeking—

She looks down. The furrow in her brow reappears when she spots you sitting cross-legged on the carpet, her painted lips pushed out to form a frown. “S’thandwa sam,” she murmurs, “why are you sitting on the floor?”

An embarrassed flush heats your cheeks. Your skin is too dark to render it visible, but Ramonda will notice it all the same. She notices everything about you.

“I, erm…” You scramble uncouthly to your feet, cheeks aflame. “Okoye was here.” You feel quite underdressed, all of a sudden; Ramonda, a vision in her ceremonial robes before you, and you in… socks and street clothes.

Ramonda’s lips twitch with something like amusement even as she cocks a single brow and prompts, “Oh?”

Something twists in your gut. This time, it’s not anxiety. You shove it back down; tell it to take a Valium. “She… She does not trust me,” you manage.

Concern flares in Ramonda’s gaze. “You did not wish for her to see you in my bed,” she surmises, the teasing pretense having fled entirely from her tone.

“I don’t… I don’t wish for her to think that I take my…” you pause, wanting for the proper word, “position here for granted.”

Ramonda considers this for a moment. “Okoye will think what she wishes to,” she tells you gently. You nod. “But,” she adds, her features hardening as her tone grows cutting, “it is certainly not her place to make you feel unwelcome. I will speak with her—”

Warmth erupts in your chest at her sincerity. You stroke gently over the skin of her knuckles in an effort to convey it. “Okoye is protective of you—” Ramonda cocks a brow as if to say ‘You think? ’ “—but I’m sure it will not be news to you when I say it is because she loves you. I cannot fault her for that.” The ‘because I love you, too’ goes unsaid. (For now.) “To be entirely truthful, it actually reassures me, somewhat.” At Ramonda’s inquisitive glance, you shrug and add: “I know you’re in good hands.”

Ramonda’s brows creep higher up. “I am more than capable of looking after myself, you know,” she retorts, though her tone is not contentious—but rather, tinged with mirth.

“I know, my Queen—you are very strong and mighty,” you acknowledge, only partly in jest.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “And you, my little minx, are quite mouthy today.”

You feel a renewed flush heat your cheeks (again), and a telltale clench in your belly, but you refuse to let it derail you. You still have more to say, and, by the slight tilt of Ramonda’s head, she can tell.

“Maybe…” you trail off in a quiet voice, all pretense discarded. “Maybe I’m just a little protective of you, too.”

The effect is immediate: A broad, delighted grin splits Ramonda’s features. Her hand drops yours and snakes its way around your waist, the other reaching to cup your jaw and hold you like you’re something precious, something treasured.

“I will not leave you, dearest,” she soothes, tracing circles into your cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I am yours, and you are mine.”

Your throat swells with emotion, a dam bursting in your chest. You bite your lip to bear it. When you speak, your voice is hoarse, choked with oncoming tears: “No one’s ever treated me like you do,” you murmur quietly, so quietly it’s like a confession—a secret. The truth of it burns like magma in your lungs, and the tears that trace your cheeks are not nearly hot enough to match. And Ramonda—bless her—she wants to reply, seeks to comfort you, but refrains because she knows you have more to say. Because she’s listening, truly and earnestly. That just makes you want to cry even harder. “I am going to be worthy of you, Ramonda. I promise.”

“Oh, s’thandwa sam,” she murmurs, placing a feather-light kiss upon your forehead. Her fingers nudge your jaw, raising your teary-eyed gaze to meet hers. The sheer measure of love and care you see in her eyes is enough to make your heart feel as though it’s imploding in your ribcage—all butterflies and warmth and love beyond measure. “You already are.”

— —

end notes: okay, i did some reading up on xhosa language and term of endearments for the couple that i used here, and i'll toss those sources down below (along with other sources i used) if anyone's interested. (also, if you've read this, and you're knowledgeable about xhosa + have some corrections / commentary /etc., please please please do not hesitate to message me! i did my very best to make sure i wasn't throwing any terms around, or refusing to do my due diligence, but this is not an area of knowledge i'm terribly well-versed in, and as such, i'm kind of bumbling around here despite my best efforts. let me know!)

update: a special thank-you to a reader on tumblr who messaged me and corrected the xhosa terms of endearment!! i have included the updated ones below. much appreciated<3<3

s’thandwa sam | my love, love of mine s’thandwa | love, sweetheart

sources:

queen ramonda | just an extra source to inform upon ramonda's character and canonical background

symbolism behind the hairstyles in wakanda forever | a brief article about, well.... what it says on the tin

traditional south african dress | since the xhosa-speaking people are indigenous to a particular region of south africa, i wanted to look into traditional south african dress, particularly where it pertains to the marital status of a woman. but then i read up on queen ramonda's headdresses ('cause i wanted to know if i should take that part out for this fic if i wanted to make my canon a little different and say she was never married), which does indeed draw inspiration from some of the traditional headpieces worn in southern africa by married women, but in a wakandan context, it seems that her headdresses (particularly in this second film) are also to indicate her queenly status. so.... uh. yeah

“love, courtship, and marriage in africa” | this is the seventh chapter of a book titled a companion to african history (first edition). this particular chapter gives writing credits to nwanda achebe, who is one of the editors of the book. it includes pretty much what it says on the tin—traditional courting rituals and the like—along with terms of endearments in various african languages.

“wakanda forever: wakandan for emphasis” | this is an academic article written by sarah scott-nelson and alyssa penner. they delve into a sociolinguistic analysis of the use of isixhosa as a national language of black panther's fictional country of wakanda. it's a shorter read (~9 pages), and one i thought was pretty interesting!

— —

link to masterlist

#queen ramonda x reader #ramonda x reader #queen ramonda #stuff i wrote #reader-insert

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 7 months

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🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹

here is an entire bouquet for you. Love you , my spectrum sister ❤️ 💖

Hi there, my dear! <3

thank you so much for coming in with such beautiful bouquet of roses! <3 it looks beautiful! 😊

Allow me to share with you some sentences from my story (almost a wip, tbh, hope you don't mind :) )

thank you again! <3

(…)Running as fast as they could -Dorothea’s leg hurting and her chest on fire from the exertion - they passed by the crowded street that was coasting the river. It didn’t matter if they were both out of breath. It didn’t matter if the rain was pouring: they were running like deers in a forest, as Dorothea tried to apologize whenever she bumped into someone. “This way!” she heard Jacob saying, dragging her in a small secluded sideway. They didn’t stop to run until they found a refuge under a small porch. They waited and waited, lungs on fire as they tried to regain some breath and ears tensed to hear the voices of the brutes that were running after them. But only silence answered their scouting. They looked at each other, both their faces plastered with their damp hair, cheeks red from the run and before they could stop themselves, they burst out in a bout of laughter, the kind that makes you want to never stop, that makes you want to laugh even more, even louder. They were so caught up in their mirth, that neither had noticed they were still holding each other’s hand. “It looks like we lost them, Goldilocks,” Jacob chortled, between one laughter and the other. “It looks like we should have accepted that offer of an umbrella, Mr. Frye,” Dorothea breathed, unable to contain her giggles. “I will not be able to explain this to my parents, short of telling them that I decided to take a swim in the Thames,” Jacob belched at the thought, grinning. “I wouldn’t recommend that, doll, you wouldn’t be able to take of the stench for days,” Heart full, galloping in his chest like a wild horse in a prairie, he raised his hand, and as delicately as he could, he brushed one wet curl away from her cheek. Before she could do or say anything, she felt her cheek burning under his fingers, like fire in the rain, incandescent when his hand cupped her cheek in a sweet caress, as he moved away the rest of her curls from her face his eyes never leaving hers, not even for one second. And hers couldn’t leave his, eyes resembled the same color of the firs in her forests back in Sweden. They were home. Her home. “There, now,” she heard him say, once he was done. “There it is the uppity lady I have come to know,” “and love” he thought, without allowing the words to leave his lips. He scoured her sweet round face, his eyes lingering on her lips for a brief moment. Suddenly he felt his mouth dry, and he wished he could grip something to contain himself. “Now I can see all your freckles again,” he murmured instead, trying to calm his beating heart. Dorothea raised her eyebrows, feeling her breath stuck in her chest. Her freckles? she thought, blushing even more. He…he had noticed her freckles?. She swallowed hard. “Well, I may be an uppity lady, Mr. Frye, but one with an excellent sense of style,” she murmured. Tiptoeing, she took his top hat of his head and gracefully landed it on her own, trying it on to chase away her embarrassment. It was too big for her and fell on her eyes, but she wore it anyway. “So? Will you give me your verdict, Mr. Frye? How do I look?” she asked, tilting her head from side to side, giving him a complicit smile. "Breathtaking," he thoughts, lips parting just a little as if to contain all that he couldn't declare. Instead, The corners of his mouth twitched in a mischievous grin. "If I were a betting man - and I am not saying that I am - I'd wager that I might have to fight for my position as a gang leader in this city. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to start your own gang. The sheer audacity of being this fabulous—it's almost criminal.” Dorothea tipped the brim of the top hat, her cheeks burning from his word. “Are you joking, Mr. Frye?” “I never joke on Top Hats. Or Gangs. Or Beautiful Women.”

#Ask #Replies #Friends #assassin's creed #jacob frye #dorothea Starrick #ITHOTM #WIP #Nemo writes

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blackjackkent · 10 days

Text

The guards inside the creche entrance round on them with startling rapidity the moment they show their faces.

"Sentries! To arms!" one of them snaps. Her eyes fix on Rakha in a sharp glare like that which she has often seen in Lae'zel's expression. "Istik. State your purpose - quickly."

"Stand down, gish," Lae'zel snaps back, equally sharp. "Is it not Vlaakith's command to welcome her faithful?"

"I expected no visitors, faithful or otherwise," the guard says coolly. "Why have you come?"

Rakha's eyes narrow warily. The antagonistic tone sends a flicker of irritation through her, something that could easily spiral into something more. But for Lae'zel's sake, she keeps her tone even with an effort of will. "I was infected by an illithid," she says. Little point in dancing around the subject; Lae'zel has made it clear that this is something the gith know of already - along with how to deal with it. "And was told to seek a githyanki creche."

She waits for the gish to direct them - but instead, the other woman's eyes widen and her mouth sets in a thin line.

"You are infected?" She spits the word out like a curse. "A ghaik thrall is something to eradicate, not reason with."

Her hand is already going towards her sword, and Rakha feels her pulse start to thump in her temple with the sense of impending battle. But Lae'zel's voice cuts across the moment, shattering it.

"The faithful may be purified!" she snaps. "This is Vlaakith's protocol!"

(A/N: I remember being a little baffled by this on my first playthrough - that Lae'zel seems so confident about this while it seems like literally every other githyanki clearly already knows the score. It makes sense for Voss to be like 'nah actually you're gonna die' - he's already rebelling against Vlaakith - but even this random guard goes straight past the cleansing concept and straight to 'time to eradicate this thrall.'

I find it kind of interesting tbh.

On the one hand - clearly this is partly a manifestation of how young Lae'zel is under all that confidence. The implication seems to be that yeah, it's hammered into you in your training that you need to report to a ghustil and get "purified" if you're ever infected, but that once you're actually out on duty it becomes an open secret that "purification" is just another word for death; Lae'zel just didn't happen to get that far before the nautiloid picked her up.

However - this leads to other questions. How are there not more rebels, if it's common to reach a point where you realize the purification lie is nonsense? What is the party line within these more adult units? Alternatively - is K'liir unique (and uniquely cruel) in framing it as a salvation, and every other creche treats it like a necessary sacrifice on behalf of the greater group?

IDK, I'm getting rambly here but it's intriguing to ponder. The whole creche sequence, if I'm honest, isn't always entirely clear in its writing, but if some of the minor holes are extrapolated I think it gets kind of interesting. :D )

The guard stares at Lae'zel for a long moment, reading her expression very carefully. Then she nods slowly, her lip curling with evident disdain. "Chk. Fine. Let the ghustil carry out your fate. Report to the infirmary at once."

Her eyes move over Rakha and the others briefly, then back to Lae'zel. "And step carefully. Creche Y'llek watches you."

-----

"She did not expect us to request purification," Rakha mutters matter-of-factly as they walk on further into the creche.

"I know," Lae'zel says curtly.

"You said it was a protocol. A standard procedure."

"It is," Lae'zel hisses. "That she did not honor it is no fault of mine."

"Voss also did not."

"Voss is a traitor. Should I find him again, I shall feed him pieces of his own skull."

Rakha tries hard to ignore the way the beast in her head shivers at this mental image. "But why do they deny it?"

"I don't know!" Lae'zel snaps at her; her voice whips out like a weapon, sharp as the blade on her back. "These inane questions serve nothing. Let us find the ghustil and finish matters."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #bjk writes her own party banter #poor lae'zel is trying so hard and the whole thing just comes crashing down around her ears #and rakha is trying so hard to *believe* her and *trust* her and everyone's going to get bitten as a result #solid tragedy lol

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nicistrying · 10 days

Text

Sunday 21st April

What a weekend 🥴

Yesterday was Matt's birthday so I made him breakfast in bed and we went for a lovely walk with Maggie, saw all her friends, had a great time 🥰

I went out and did a big grocery shop for my sister bc she said she had been really struggling with money lately as she's between jobs and will miss April pay cutoff at her new job so won't get paid until the end of May. She's also getting evicted from her house bc she's unable to get a mortgage to buy it, so the landlord is just giving it to her daughter instead which is shitty. So she's having a really tough time so I went and bought her just a load of food she can make meals with and stuff bc she said she had been sending the kids up to their dad's house for dinner bc she didn't have enough food in. Which fucking sucks. So got all that, finished off Matt's birthday cake - coffee & walnut, his fave. And then started on my nephew's cake! Which annoyingly I forgot to take a pic of when it was finished 😭

Matt's birthday card and mug from Maggie arrived

It has a photo from the day we got her, one of the funniest moments of her life when she got stuck between the sofa cushions, and one of them together on the side of a mountain and it says Best Dog Dad. He usually hates stuff like that but he loves it 🤭

Cleaned up the kitchen about 3 times after all the baking, realised it was 5pm and I had 30 mins to get ready, and we went out with Matt's family for dinner. We went to a Vietnamese place and it was so good. His parents were difficult as always but they left after food and we stayed out for a few drinks with his brothers and we had a fun night. He was really happy to have everyone together ❤️

Came home a little tipsy I think around midnight, got up early again this morning to walk Maggie so Matt could have a lie in. Thank god though, he woke up not long after me and offered to do the walk so I did all the housework that didn't get done all week. The house is finally sort of back to normal so I felt much better. Finished off my nephew's cake, and went over to my sister's to see him. We just had a few of his friends round and all the adults sat having a couple of drinks and eating snacks. It was lovely! I was so nervous to give my sister all the food but she took it really well, I tried to frame it as a working from home hamper bc her new job is full time WFH and I said in my experience you realise how fucking hungry you are when you're not out at work distracted by other stuff, but she didn't see all the meat, tins, fruit and veg in the bottoms of the bags so I really hope she isn't offended when she does. I know she's way too proud to ask anyone to help but it's not fair that she has to sacrifice having dinner with her kids. So I wrote her a little card and explained that I know she'd do the same for me. Haven't heard from her yet but she was super happy when I brought the stuff into her garage. Drove home feeling pretty icky (again! Wtf is going on with my body), I was shivering I was so cold and had the heaters blasting in my face the whole drive home and had an awful headache despite chugging water all afternoon. Curled up in my pjs when I got home, had a cup of tea and felt much better. Currently in a hot bath, ready for an early night. Think I'm just run down tbh, it's been a crazy busy few weeks.

Oh also! I got The Photo for the wedding thank you cards! Finally the sun was out and she was smiling and the crown stayed on her head for more than half a second 🙌

So I can order those this week!!

Hope everyone had a lovely weekend 🥰🥰

#personal #needless to say i didnt manage to work out this weekend lol #family #birthdays #cake #baking #Maggie #nic's wedding #personal fitblr

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angelst4re · 2 years

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HIII BESTIE<3 SO THIS IS MY IDEA AS I SAID IN CHAT :D. Milf reader alone in the house for a wee kcuz husband is on a worktrip and kids are at their grandparents cuz they went to paris. so on the third day of the week the reader decides to call jamie over and when she opens the door for him in her sexiest lingerie ever jamie gets so horny like really af horny. They fuck on every. possible. surface. in. the. house. for example. he fucks her against the bookshelf in the living room then she rides him on the couch after that she gives him a head on the floor kneeling while fingering herself in her husbands workroom oop. when they arrive to the bed she and her husband sleep in jamie ties her hands up to the beds headboard and makes her whimpering his name while a dildo is pushed inside of her little cunt haha. after like 10 rounds and its 12am they finally give in and take a longgg shower as they makeout passionately still under the water jamie telling the reader how beautiful she is and everything. PLOTTWIST...the reader gets prego... if this is too much feel free to take anything out of it LOVE U SO SO MUCH AND HOPE U HAVE A GREAT NIGHT <333

HI LOVE!!! i still can't get over this... like wow!! p.s, if you're not already pls follow @jamiebowerslut <33

Treat You Better (Part 2!)- Jamie Campbell Bower x Milf!Reader

୨♡୧ warnings: smut!! multiple orgasms, cheating, praise and degradation, breeding kink?, oral (f and m recieving), use of sex toys... it's all in the request tbh :) not proof read!!

୨♡୧ note: milf reader my beloved <3 I promise I'm going to start writing fluff and some more wholesome fics again soon!! i just need to get this out my system...

—————————♡—————————

Three days ago, you were stuck in a busy home. Children fighting, your husband complaining about work, washing up piled at the sink, messy floors, the housework was never ending. And now, you were sat on your bed with nothing to do and no one to speak to, except…

You found Jamie’s contact on your phone once more, you had told him it was probably best to keep some distance between you two for now, until you find the time to tell your husband that things are over. However, right now he was on a business trip and your children were on holiday with their grandparents, and you were desperate for company. Desperate for him.

“Y/n?” He says as he answers the phone, “is everything okay?”

“Everything’s wonderful,” you say, powdering your face as you finish applying your makeup and standing to admire your body in the mirror. You had a gorgeous red and black lace lingerie set on, which you had bought recently for yourself with no intentions of anyone seeing it, but it was different with Jamie. “Do you want to come over? I’m home alone?”

There was silence on his end for a couple seconds, before he replied with.

“Sure, I’ll be there in 10, love.”

A rush of excitement overtook your body as you hung up, causing you to forget you had left something out on your bed…

When the doorbell rang, you quickly threw on your robe- it was a sheer white material with a fur trim, meaning what you wore underneath was clearly visible. You opened the door with a smile as Jamie stood and stared you down, his mouth practically watering at how beautiful you looked. After not seeing each other in almost two weeks, Jamie was quick to shut the door behind him and push you up against the nearest wall.

“Is this all for me?” He asks, his fingers playing with the fur at the ends of your robe, “because if it is, darling, I think I should take what’s mine.”

You gasp as his lips are pressed against your neck, kissing and sucking gently on the sweetspot he had found the first time he fucked you. You pull him closer to you by his shirt, as you try to undo his buttons with shaky hands. When you gave up, he removed his hands from your waist and ripped it off himself, throwing it to the ground and exposing the tattoos across his chest and abdomen- oh, how you’ve missed seeing those tattoos.

You grab him by the face and pull him back to you, your lips crashing against each other as he slips the robe from your shoulders. You try to guide him to the living room, not breaking the kiss once. But you reached as far as the bookshelf when Jamie was stripped down to his underwear and you had your legs wrapped around his waist, rubbing your clothed core on his erection.

“Take me, right here. I can’t wait any longer,” you pant as you try to catch your breath. Jamie chuckles as he reaches around to unclasp your bra with ease. You let a low groan escape your throat as his mouth wrapped around your nipple, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more, “Jamie! Please!” You cry against his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his neck for support.

“Okay, darling.” He says as his mouth came back up to your neck. His hands moved your panties to the side and his thumb teased your clit briefly, before slipping two fingers into your dripping core, making you whimper into his shoulder, “I have to ease you into it, love. I don’t want to hurt you-”

“I’ve given birth twice! I can handle it!” You groan, his teasing was doing nothing but making you needier. You needed more.

Without saying anything, you feel his cock pressing against you and pushing in all the way, making you dig your nails into his shoulders as you let out a loud moan.

“Fuck!”

“You said you could take it, darling. What, is my cock too big for you?” He grinned against your skin as his hips begin to move. He pulls all the way out, before slamming back in all at once, causing you to scream out in pleasure.

He was fucking into you at a brutal pace, pressing you up against the bookshelf which was mostly full of books your husband had bought because they looked ‘vintage’. You held onto one of the shelves for support but as it began to come loose, you quickly let go, not wanting to have to explain this to your husband.

As if he could read your thoughts, Jamie was quick to back up from the bookshelf, instead moving over to sofa where he sat with his thighs parted, and pulled you on top of him.

“You’re gonna ride me until you cum, baby. And after you’ve made a big mess on my cock you’re gonna clean it up, got it?” He asks, his thumb rubbing your nipple as you bite your lower lip slightly, straddling his hips and lowering yourself onto his cock. You sat there for a moment, not moving as you pulled him in for a kiss, just the feeling of him filling you up so perfectly was enough to make you finish, but you wanted to give him some pleasure too, so you began to lift yourself up slightly before pushing back down, practically bouncing on his dick. “Shit,” he groaned.

His hand came down to where your bodies connected, and he began toying with your clit, rubbing it and slightly pinching it. Your mouth opened as if you were going to moan, but no noise came out, you sucked in a breath as Jamie began fucking up into you, desperate to push you over the edge as quick as possible.

“Jamie…” you moaned, looking down at him as you continued moving your hips up and down on him, “I’m so close, don’t s-stop.” Your breath was shaky, and your mind began to feel fuzzy. You held onto his shoulders one more as you came around his cock, your legs trembling in the aftershocks as you stood up and prepared to get on your knees.

Instead, Jamie decided to find a room with carpet so you didn’t hurt your knees- and that room happened to be your husband’s office. He chuckled as he sat on the chair- the same one you had purposely broken so he could come over and fix it. As soon as he sat, you dropped to your knees, licking your arousal from the tip of his cock and pressing kisses over it. Your tongue licked from the base all the way to the tip, tracing over a prominent vein as you licked back down, before taking him into your mouth. He groaned as he felt the tip hit the back of your throat, you could tell he had never been sucked off like this before. You hollow your cheeks as you lift up from him slightly, your hands pumping the inches that weren’t currently down your throat.

“I’m not going to last long if you- oh fuck!”

Enjoying the pleasure you gave him too much, you slipped a hand between your thighs, feeling yourself getting wetter as he moaned your name over and over again. You pushed a finger into you, another followed shortly after.

“Y/n, I’m going to…” He came down your throat before he could finish warning you, you swallowed it all before pulling him out of your mouth, but sticking your tongue out instead, determined to get every last drop of him in your mouth. As soon as he had ridden out his high, you were cumming on your fingers, your juices dripping onto the carpet. “Holy shit,” Jamie grins at you as you lean forwards, gripping onto his thigh for support as you came.

Desperate to finish inside you at least once tonight, Jamie lead you upstairs to your bedroom, helping support you as your legs wobbled. When you reached your bedroom, Jamie laid you down on the bed, kissing you once again, his mouth moving from your jaw to your neck, before he realised…

“Oh, y/n,” he sighed, “what do we have here?” He was grinning as he picked up the pink dildo that was on your side of the bed. Shit. “You gonna show me what you do with this? Or am I going to have to use it on you?” He paces around the room looking for something and when he returns he has one of your husbands ties in his hand.

“You.” You whisper, Jamie kisses your forehead as he ties your hands to the headboard with the dark blue tie. Once you were tied up, he spreads your legs open and takes the toy, spitting on it, spreading it with his hand before lining it up with your pussy. You sigh as you feel the cold object enter you, it was created at the perfect angle so that it brushed again that special spot inside your core. “Hnngf,” you whimper as Jamie increases his pace with the toy, rubbing your clit with his spare hand and kissing your inner thigh. It all became too much too quickly, and you were cumming again, but Jamie didn’t pull away. He continues pumping the toy in and out of you but now his fingers were replaced with his mouth as he sucked on your swollen clit. Your brain was still fuzzy from your two previous orgasms, so when you tried to tell him it was too much all that came out was a string of moans.

“You like it when I treat you like a slut, don’t you? Making me fuck you all over the house, even in your husbands office? You don’t care where it is, you just want me to use you, don’t you sweet girl?”

You can only reply with a ‘hmm’, his mouth pulling your clit back between his lips as he sucked hard on the little nub.

“If only your husband knew what a dirty little wife he has, inviting me over to fuck her when he isn’t here.” He says, pushing the dildo inside you once more and just leaving it there, all his attention now on your clit as he rubs it gently, his mouth sucking on the sensitive flesh of your thigh. Your legs lifted themselves onto his shoulders as his thumb toyed with your clit. All you could do was moan his name and clench around the toy he stuffed inside you. You were so close again, it was embarrassing (on your part) how quick you came with him.

“Jamie, please,” you whimper as you come undone for the third time, his thumb stopping its movements as he stares with hungry eyes down at your pussy which had begun dripping down onto the covers.

He pulls the toy out of you, leaving you feeling empty. Instead, his fingers slipped back inside you, curling up as they pumped in and out slowly. His lips were wrapped around your clit again, you could only squirm under him as the overstimulation became too much. His hands held your hips down, and his thumbs rubbed over the skin soothingly.

“Just once more in my mouth, darling, then I’ll let you cum on my cock, okay?”

You nod your head, his mouth on you was like heaven, you couldn’t resist it. Even in the state you were in right now, if he offered to give you head, you’d take it.

His tongue danced circles around your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, creating a wet squelching sound that was so erotic in the moment, yet you’d cringe if you heard it at any other time. He began nibbling at the skin around your clit, causing you to feel hot all over. Your thighs trembled as his face was buried deeper into your cunt, making you scream out his name one more time before you came again, this time more powerful than the last two.

When Jamie had come up to untie your hands, you placed his two fingers which had been inside your cunt on your lips for you to take into your mouth, making you clean them for him- and you happily sucked them clean. As soon as you’re able to move your arms again, the first thing you do is pull Jamie down to you, to slam your lips into his, both of you tasting your pussy on each other's tongues.

“Fuck me.” You tell him, reaching down his body for his cock, but he had already lined it up against you, “fuck me so hard I forget my name, so hard I can’t walk. And fill me up, make me yours, I need to feel it all inside me, dripping from my cunt-” You’re cut off as he slams his hips against yours, filling you up with his cock again, you gasp his name, your fingers tangling into his hair, massaging his scalp as he kisses down your collarbone.

“I’ll fill you up, darling. Don’t worry.” He says, stroking your cheek before lifting your hips up into his, angling your body so that he hits that perfect spot with every stroke. Your mouth becomes dry as you’re so deeply lost in pleasure, he only chuckles at you, “such a messy little whore, aren’t you? Look at you, makeup smeared across your face, your cunt dripping down onto the covers.” In this moment, you couldn’t give a fuck about how you looked, all you cared about was Jamie, “you’re so cock drunk, aren’t you, sweet thing? All you can ever think about is how you’re going to get me to stuff my cock into you, hm?”

All you can do is nod your head again, trying to show that you’re still with him and not completely lost in the clouds. When you began clenching around him again, he could tell you were close.

“If you cum now, love, you still have to wait for me to finish.” You started shaking your head, you couldn’t handle any more but you couldn’t possibly hold it back.

Instead, you pull him down again, his lips gently brushing over yours before you seal them in a desperate kiss, muffling your moans. Your nails scratched at his back, surely leaving some marks.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum baby. Gonna fill you right up, okay? Give you my babies, you want that?”

“Fuck yes!” You whine, his mouth on your neck again as he sucked bruises onto the delicate skin, “need it so bad, baby.”

And with a few more thrusts of his hips, you both came. You were a whimpering mess as his warm seed painted your walls as he slowly pulled out of you. You were sprawled out on the bed, arms and legs all over the place. He chuckled, knowing he was the only man that has ever had this effect on you and it clearly showed.

“Are you okay, darling?” He asks, pushing some of the cum that dripped from your pussy back where it belongs. “Fuck it’s almost 1am?!”

You smile at him weakly as he lays beside you.

“I’ve never felt better.” You say, bringing his face back to yours, kissing his cheek. “Do you want to take a shower? I definitely need one.”

“Of course.” He smiled back at you.

When you were both under the warm water, Jamie held onto you to make sure your legs wouldn’t crumble beneath you. You had both washed eachother’s bodies with incredible gentleness and he was running his hands through your hair as he washed out your conditioner. His mouth pressed against yours in a passionate kiss.

“You’re the most beautiful person I have ever met, you know that, right?” He whispers, making your stomach feel warm with butterflies, “I would do anything to call you mine, darling.”

“I’m going to break things off when he gets home, I promise.” You remind Jamie, yet he still looked slightly hurt, as he did every time after you had sex. It shattered your heart to see it. “I love you.” It was the first time you had said those words to somebody in five years, with the exception of your children. You felt so vulnerable now, despite having been fully naked in front of him for the last 6 hours.

“I love you too, darling.”

—————————♡—————————

After missing your period, you decided you should test. Just to be safe. Buying a pregnancy test was quite scary, so had asked Jamie ever so nicely if he would mind going out to buy one for you, and of course he bought three of the most expensive ones they had.

You were sitting on his bathroom floor, Jamie was standing by your side, his hand rubbing your shoulder supportively as you waited the directed time for the tests.

“I’ll support your decision either way if it’s positive, y/n.” He said, smiling down at you, his eyes full of love- you had always longed for someone to look at you this way. “I think it’s time, do you want to look or do you want me to-”

“You look, Jamie. I don’t think I can do it.”

Jamie took one of the sticks and read the result.

Pregnant

Quickly, he picked up the second and read it.

Pregnant.

Fuck.

“What do they say?” You ask, your eyes filling with tears. Jamie crouches down to your level and moves some hair from your face, stroking your cheek.

“They say you’re pregnant, sweetheart.”

Without hesitation, your hands shakily reach into your pocket for your phone. Jamie furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t question you. You try to read the names of your contacts in your phone, but your eyes were too glossy from the tears that they were all a blur.

“Baby,” you say, handing your phone to Jamie, “call my husband. I’m telling him we’re done.”

#jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie campbell bower #jamie campbell bower smut #jamie bower #jamie bower smut

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