#i see sparkly suit i gifs

[evansbby]

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sugar daddy!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sugar daddy Ari, age gap, smutt, daddy!kink, ab riding, dirty talk.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your sugar daddy decides to dress you up in a costume of his choice for Halloween.

𝐀/𝐍: Random spontaneous Halloween "drabble" that is 3.8k words long lol. Inspired by the hottest daddy of them all, Ari Levinson, and his gorgeous abs. Hence the gif. Enjoy! And Happy Halloween, despite the fact that this drabble is not spooky at all.

“Twirl for me again, princess.”

Ari leans back against the headboard of his king-sized bed, his blue eyes dark as navy as he brings his glass of scotch up to his lips and takes a sip. His gaze is stuck on you as he lounges relaxedly, still dressed in his suit from work. Well, you’d taken his jacket off and loosened his tie for him before he’d patted you on your bum and sent you to your dressing room to try on the new costume he’d got for you.

You’d only been seeing Ari for two months. And by “seeing” you meant you’d only been his sugar baby for about two months, when you’d met him at the cocktail bar where you worked as a waitress. He’d come by one night with a bunch of his colleagues (all of them in expensive suits, clearly extremely wealthy). That notion had been confirmed when he’d pressed a few hundred-dollar bills into your hand at the end of the night, his eyes looking at you expectantly as if he knew you’d give him your number.

You had, of course. What followed was two months filled with expensive gifts, a hefty weekly allowance, a new designer wardrobe, glittering jewels and some incredible sex to top it all off. You’d gotten to know Ari in many different ways these past sixty days. But what you didn’t know he was so big on Halloween.

Your “costume” was for Ari’s eyes only, as he’d warningly told you when he’d handed you the shopping bag. And there was no way you could’ve worn it anywhere else: the baby pink satin negligee barely reached mid-thigh, but it was so breathtakingly pretty, so dainty with the lacy white trim and matching satin white gloves. The back was almost completely exposed, showcasing the pretty pink lace panties you had on underneath (with a heart-shaped cut-out that exposed your bum). A sparkly tiara on your head completed the look.

He'd dressed you as his little princess.

“How come you don’t have a costume, Ari?” You ask as you twirl around for him slowly, trying not to topple over in the expensive white pumps he’d also made you wear.

Ari licks his lips, beckoning you closer with just a look. He’d trained you well in the two months he’d had you, moulding you into his perfect angel who leapt at his slightest command. It was easy, since you were so cute and innocent, and so happy to please him. All he had to do was look at you a certain way and you’d jump to obey him. He watches you closely now, looking so precious and hot in your little princess costume (or lingerie, rather) and your lips part as you eagerly move closer to him, almost tripping in your heels to do so.

He chuckles, “I’m too old to be dressing up for Halloween, sweetheart.”

You pout, “You’re not old, Ari! You’re just perfect!”

He can’t help but smile at your cuteness and naivety; he really had plucked up the prettiest and most innocent little girl with a heart of pure gold.

“That’s real sweet of you, baby. Now turn around and bend over for me so I can see that cute baby ass.” He takes another sip of his scotch. You’d made him his favourite drink the moment he’d walked into his penthouse apartment where you’d been waiting for him like the delectable little treat you were – sweeter than any Halloween candy, and he could ravage you forever without ever feeling sick.

You giggle, feeling slightly rebellious. You’d had a few sips of wine before he’d come home, your anticipations running high whilst you waited impatiently for him. He was like a drug to you, with his rugged good looks and muscular body and charming smile. You were also incredibly attracted to the power he wielded; Ari owned and was the CEO of multiple companies across the globe, and for the life of you, you couldn’t imagine how he’d ever decided to ask for your number that one fateful night two months ago.

“But Ari, since I’m a princess tonight, that means I’m royalty. Which means I don’t have to follow anyone’s orders but my own, right?” You smile triumphantly.

Ari looks infinitely amused as he runs his hand through his unruly hair, his other hand inching down to palm his clothed crotch.

“Little princesses like you still have to take orders from their daddy,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you teeter in your high heels. “Which, by the way, is what you should be addressing me as. You call me Ari one more time and I’ll take you over my knee. I don’t care if it’s Halloween.”

You pout harder, looking so extra cute that Ari has to pace himself from reaching over and grabbing you right then and there. He’s waited to dress you up in this costume for a while now, though, and he knows he needs to savour it.

“That’s a good little princess,” he murmurs in approval once you turn around and bend over, giving him the perfect view of your cute ass. “Look at those pretty little princess panties, hugging that cute baby ass. You like your panties, baby?”

“Y-Yeah,” you pant, and he knows you’re turned on by his words. “Thank you, daddy, I really like them.”

“You like being my little princess?”

“Yes, daddy. Wanna be your princess forever.”

Ari can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are, and when you say things like that, he just wants to gather you in his arms and plant a thousand kisses to your face, cuddle with you and buy you whatever you please. But he has to keep a strong resolve tonight, because he’s been waiting for an opportunity to ravage you in your princess costume for ages now, and he’s been working overtime at the office and he knows he deserves this.

“Daddy? Can I stop bending over now? It’s startin’ to hurt.”

Ari swirls his glass of scotch around absentmindedly, a wicked look crossing his face, “Soon, baby. First, I want you to spank yourself.”

You gasp, and then there’s a pause.

“M-Me? Spank myself?”

“You heard me, baby. I won’t repeat myself.”

You reach back gingerly, squeezing your eyes shut because you’ve got your back to him and you know he can’t see (usually, he always demands you keep your eyes open). You give your behind a tentative little slap, feeling embarrassed to say the least.

“Harder, sweetheart. How can you be a princess if you don’t have a firm hand?” You can hear the smugness in his voice, and it just turns you on more. You know your new princess panties are soaked through, and you wonder if he can tell.

“B-But I don’t wanna have a firm hand,” you whimper, already feeling very submissive. You like it when he spanks you (although it hurts but it hurts so good). But you spanking yourself? It’s embarrassing. It turns you on because you’re doing it for him, but it’s still embarrassing.

“Are you talking back to me, baby?” Ari’s eyes are hooded with lust as he openly palms his dick.

“Sorry, daddy,” you bite your lip before giving your ass another slap – harder this time. And Ari exhales slowly as he watches your ass jiggle cutely, and he commands you to hit yourself again, to not stop until he says so. And he watches you spank yourself, turned on beyond belief at your complete submission.

“Fuck, you have such a cute ass, baby. Squeeze it for me.” He orders you, voice gruff and strained because of how horny he is.

You obey, squeezing the soft flesh through your barely-there panties. Ari’s fingers itch to touch you himself, make you mewl with pleasure just with his touch the way only he could. Because he’s the only one who’s ever touched you like that, who ever would touch you like that. You were his baby, his little princess and he’d take care of you forever.

“Stop. Now come here.”

You swallow, straightening up to walk over to him, except he stops you again by just a look.

“No, baby. On your knees. Daddy wants you to crawl.”

You decide to test your luck one last time, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes, “But daddy, I’m supposed to be a princess and not a kitten. And princesses don’t crawl.”

Ari rolls his eyes, “You’ll do as I say. Baby princesses like you still need to obey their daddy because you’re not in charge, got that?”

“Y-Yeah, I got it.” You sink down to your knees and slink over to him, making sure to sway your hips as you crawl because you know he loves that. And you love how he looks at you darkly, his eyes so blown out with lust and want. As if he’s restraining himself from just grabbing you and fucking you. Because you know how virile he is, how high his sex drive is.

“That’s my good little girl,” he coos, making you feel all special. You stop at the foot of the bed and he reaches down, petting the top of your head, stroking your hair like you’re some kind of pet. Your sparkly tiara falls lopsided, but manages to stay on your head. But you like how he strokes you, you like how affectionate it feels, and so you nuzzle up into his palm, wanting him to stroke you some more.

Instead, he grabs a handful of your hair and yanks you up, manhandling you as if you’re his little baby, till he’s got you nestled on top of him, and you can feel his hard dick underneath you. A wicked look in his eye, he straightens your tiara before patting your cheek condescendingly.

“How’re you enjoying Halloween so far, princess?”

You mull over it, trying not to focus on his hard dick directly underneath your butt. “It’s nice. This is the first time in a few years that I’ve stayed in for Halloween, instead of going to a party.”

This was true, since being at college for the past two years meant that you always went out on Halloween.

“Oh yeah? You’d rather be at a frat party right now?” Ari’s hands land on your hips, grinding you down against his dick so that you’re effectively dry humping him. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, and you made grabby hands at him but he holds you at bay.

“No, no, no!” You answer desperately, trying to lean forward to kiss him but he holds you in place firmly, “Would much rather be with you, daddy. I love you so much.”

Ari can feel his heart melting fast. You’re just so delectable and cute, blinking up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours. And it had been so easy for you to fall in love with him, you’d told him so only two weeks into your whirlwind romance. He’d taken you out on his private yacht, and he’d bought you the prettiest sailor outfit, and you’d clung to him because you were scared you might fall overboard because of how clumsy you were.

But you’d looked so pretty as the salty sea air rushed over your face, and how you just wouldn’t let go of his hand. You couldn’t stop smiling either, and when he’d kissed you on the deck, holding you firm against the railing as the sun set into the ocean behind you, that’s when you’d whispered it breathlessly against his lips. Like you couldn’t keep it in any longer: I love you.

You’d tried to tug away from him after that, embarrassed at how you’d let your inner feelings slip out so soon into your relationship with him. But you couldn’t help it, he just made you feel so safe, so alive, so wonderful, so you. You’d tried to make a hasty exit, making up an excuse that you had to make a phone call, and praying he hadn’t heard you whisper those three forbidden words…

But Ari had heard you, and his heart had swelled in a way he never thought it could. He’d entered this relationship with you because he needed someone to take care of, and well, you were so hot the night he’d first seen you. So pretty and innocent and lovely. And then he’d gotten to know you, and you were so lively, and made him feel so youthful, made him feel so powerful and important, made him feel like he had to protect you while you danced around his life and made him laugh and cheered him up the way only you could.

He’d held you tightly against him that night on the yacht, not letting you slip away as he’d cupped your beautiful face in his hands, and he’d told you that he loved you too, more than he’d ever loved anyone else. And the look on your face, that look of utter devotion and awe, like you had stars in your eyes – he wished he could bottle it up inside a jar and keep that look safe forever.

That’s how you’re looking at him now, in your cute little princess lingerie, and your lips are begging to be kissed. Ari can’t stand it any longer, and he grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls you down, pressing his lips on yours in a heady kiss.

“You’ve been waiting for tonight, haven’t you?” He breathes against your lips.

You swallow harshly and nod. Of course you had, the moment he’d texted you this morning telling you to be ready for him at his apartment when he got home. That was obvious code that he was going to ruin you tonight, and the pretty princess costume was just the cherry on top of the cake.

Biting your lip, you shyly untuck his shirt from his pants and lift it up, revealing his toned, hairy abs. God, he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen – with an amazing, buff body that was twice the size of yours. He was bigger than you in every single way possible, and you sigh as your fingers run over the deep ridges of his tanned six pack.

Ari snorts, “Like what you see, princess?”

“Uh huh. You’re so hot.” You blurt out.

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t you give me your panties?”

The way he so casually redirects the conversation has your cheeks feeling hot and your pussy clenching in anticipation. Taking your panties off while straddling his crotch proves to be difficult, but you’re nimble enough to make it work. The lace is wet with your juices and your cheeks heat up even more as you hand your panties to him.

Ari brings the lacy material up to his nose, sniffing in your pretty scent. God, he wanted to be buried with your scent if it was possible. He can’t help but find the gusset, sucking the silk into his mouth and tasting your juices.

“You’re so sweet, princess.” He mutters, before shoving the panties in his pocket.

“I’m all wet, daddy,” you pout, knowing your wetness has seeped over to stain his pants as you sit on top of his crotch.

“Oh yeah?” Ari feigns disinterest, busying himself with another sip of his scotch. “Is your little baby cunt getting needy?”

“Yeah!”

“You want daddy to take care of her? Your little cunt?”

You throb at his words, “Yes, please!”

He makes no move to put his scotch away. “I think I’d rather watch you, princess. You can rub yourself on me to make yourself cum.”

You shudder at how casually he says it, but at the same time bite your lip, “B-But daddy, I feel so empty down there. Need you inside me, pretty please?”

Ari pretends to mull over it, “I don’t know, gorgeous, your baby pussy’s awfully tight. I don’t think I’d even get a finger in.” (That was true, you were super tight, but he could work you open in a matter of minutes. He always did, after all, but he wants you to work for an orgasm tonight).

You grab his hand and push it between your legs, feeling like you’re about to go into heat by how turned on you are. “Y-You could stretch me open, daddy, I-I don’t mind! Just wanna feel you inside me.”

“Maybe later, sweetie,” Ari murmurs, indulgently brushing your hair off your face and pulling your cheek when you pout. Of course, he definitely intended to fill you up real good, fuck both your holes silly with his cock and his tongue and his fingers. But the night was still young, and right now he wanted a show while he enjoyed his drink. “C’mon, baby, it’s Halloween. Even a princess has to work a little to get her treat.”

He picks you up by your waist, placing you on his hairy abs, which are rock hard just like his cock which is still in the confines of his pants.

You grab on to his shoulders to steady yourself, before you start moving. And oh, it feels absolutely heavenly, your quivering pussy rubbing against his hard abs, the hair on his torso catching against your swollen clit and immediately making you moan.

“F-Feels so good, daddy,” you whimper, and it makes Ari smile at how cute you are. How much you love it when he makes you feel good, how you selfishly chase after your own pleasure whenever you can because he knows it’s never felt this good for you before. You don’t have to tell him that he’s the best you’ve ever had – he can see it in your eyes every time.

“Yeah? Is your cute baby cunt getting some relief? You enjoy using your daddy like this?” He mutters lowly, pinching your hip to make you move faster as he takes another sip of his scotch. His cock is incredibly tight still confined to his pants, and he’d have loved for you to grind against his cock instead but he knows he would’ve blown his load because of the friction paired with how hot you look right now.

“You enjoy dressing up like a little princess and giving your daddy a show?” He continues, feeling the beast inside him awaken as you whimper so cutely on top of him. With his fingers gripping your hip tightly, he roughly drags you back and forth over his abs, “That’s right, slutty baby, make a mess all over daddy, you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes!” You cry, getting to that point where everything that leaves your mouth is either a plea or incoherent gibberish and crying. That’s when you get so submissive that there isn’t a single thought in your head, and Ari’s sure he could make you do absolutely anything when you’re in that mindset.

His stomach is wet with your cream, and you’re grinding against him desperately now, and he knows you’ll cum any second because it doesn’t take much to get you to cum. He remembers doing this a lot with you in the early days of the relationship, when he knew for a fact you’d need a lot of prep before you could take his big, fat dick inside your pussy. So he’d made you grind on his torso instead, like how you were doing now, as a sort of practice before the real sex. And it’s like you’d never been pleasured before in your life because you came so quickly, over and over again, squirting all over him and begging for him to put it inside you.

Clearly, nothing had changed in two months.

He downs his scotch before setting the glass aside on his bedside table. Then he licks his lips, hand slipping down between your legs. He spreads your folds and you gasp, rocking your hips faster as you feel more now, your clit rubbing deliciously against his abs.

“C’mon, princess,” he urges, moving you up and down on his abs harder, “make yourself cum, baby, squirt all over daddy like the good little girl I know you can be. Like all good princesses squirt on their daddies. You wanna be a good princess, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do!”

“Say it, then.”

“W-Wanna be a good princess for you, daddy. Wanna be so good!” Your face is glistening with sweat and tears, and you’re working so hard for your release. He knows all he has to do is rub your clit once or twice, or even just press against it and you’d cum. But he wants you to work for it, so he can praise you for it and then reward you for making yourself cum with minimal help from daddy.

“You’re daddy’s sexy little princess,” Ari murmurs lowly, pulling you down by the neck till your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you bite at his skin and cry and moan his name as he talks, “you’re doing such a good job, baby, rubbing that baby cunt all over daddy’s abs. You’re so good for me, baby, so fucking good and I love you so much. Daddy loves you so much, honey. More than anything in the world.”

You squirt all over his stomach, your sweet cream covering ever ridge and dip of his muscular torso. You cry and cry, like how you often do when you’re overwhelmed when orgasming, grabbing at his face and kissing him, and he kisses you back fervently, allowing you to make out with him because he knows how overwhelmed and good you feel.

“That’s such a good girl,” he praises you, rubbing your back as you quiver in his arms, and he can feel your pussy quivering too, “such a good fucking girl, you worked so hard, baby and I’m so proud of you.”

“L-Love you so much, daddy,” you whimper pitifully, your poor tiara finally falling off your head, and Ari wants to chuckle at how spent you look, how exhausted you look from rubbing your pussy on him for a couple of minutes. He reminds himself to get you a bottle of water in a few minutes once you’ve calmed down, because he knows he’ll be keeping you busy for the better part of tonight and he wants you to have the energy for it.

But for now, he’ll let you rest for a few minutes. You snuggle up into his chest, breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. Ari pours himself another scotch, and lights up his cigar, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out in your direction.

“Happy Halloween, sweetheart,” he grins wickedly, and you lift your head up slightly to offer him a weak smile. “Now put your tiara back on, princess. The night’s not over yet.”

AKSHDSAJGA WHAT DO YOU THINK???? PLEASE LET ME KNOW THIS WAS EXTREMELY SPONTANEOUS AFNKLAGNSKAL I JUST AM OBSESSED WITH SUGAR DADDY ARI AND HIS ABS BYE.

anyways lemme know what you think and pls do reblog and leave any feedback thank you ily

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy ari

[daddy-dotcom]

Bang My Line

Summary: You're Penelope Garcia's first intern, and you learn a lot more from her than just her technical skills.

Rating: M

Words:4, 357

Warnings: Fluff, typical canon violence mentions, smut ;)

*reblogs or comments r much appreciated*

Read my newest fic Scents and Sensibility out now 🤭

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The first day was a blur. It was scary enough to completely change career paths, but working for the FBI was an entirely different beast. Between what seemed like hundreds of background checks and interviews, I finally made it to my first day. Granted, I would just be an intern for now, but hopefully this would lead to a permanent position as a technical analyst. I waited in the lobby for Penelope Garcia, the woman who would be my mentor for the duration of my time with the BAU. We had spoken over the phone and even texted back and forth a bit, but this would be my first time meeting in person.

“There she is! My shiny new intern.”

“Hi you must be Agent Garcia,” I replied with my arm outstretched. She took it and gave what was the most enthusiastic hand shake I’ve ever seen.

“Oh honey, I’m way too fun for you to call me agent. Call me Penelope.” I shook my head in agreement and she led me towards the elevator.

“I know I gave you a rundown of the team via our text messages, but be prepared for them to ask you a million questions. You’re my first ever intern and they’re dying to meet the newest member of the team.”

“Duly noted, just know I’m going to be doing the same to you Penn because I’m a little out of my element here.”

“hmm Penn, I like the sound of that.”

As the elevator doors opened, I could see the rest of the team gathered around a desk, too focused on their own conversation to notice me and Penelope.

“Everyone, please welcome my first and only intern (Y/N).”

The man in the crisp black suit stood up first to greet me and introduced himself as Agent Aaron Hotchner.

“Penelope has not shut up about her new intern so it’s nice to finally put a pretty face to the name. I’m SSA Derek Morgan.”

I let out a bashful chuckle as I shook Morgan’s hand. Penelope did warn me that he could be a bit of a flirt. I was then greeted by a blonde woman who goes by JJ and an older man named Agent Rossi.

“Don’t tell me you write in pink sparkly gel pen too?” he jokingly asked.

I smiled and shook my head no, before being greeted by Agent Emily Prentiss.

“Don’t mind Rossi, it’s always nice to have another woman on the team to keep these boys in check.”

She gestured towards Morgan and the other agent beside her, who I can only assume is none other than Dr. Spencer Reid.

Penelope had described him as quote “Steven Hawking trapped in a young Bill Nye’s body.” What I didn’t expect was for him to actually be attractive. Sure, Agent Morgan and even Agent Hotchner were easy on the eyes, but Spencer Reid was strikingly handsome in the most unassuming way. The soft golden waves that covered the top of his head combined with those puppy dog eyes were enough to remind me how nervous I was to be joining the team.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N)” he said as he took my hand. My palms were beginning to sweat, but the steadiness of his firm grasp eased my nerves.

“Likewise,” was all I could manage to say. He held my gaze for what felt like both a moment and an eternity, before releasing my hand.

“Well, (Y/N), let’s get you briefed on your first case,” said Penelope.

I followed Penelope into the briefing room and decided to sit in the seat closest to the screen so that I could take notes on her presentation. To my surprise, Spencer took the seat next to me. As if I wasn't already a nervous wreck, his close proximity to me was going to make my writing even more illegible than usual. Still, I could get used to sitting next to the most handsome member of the team.

As Penelope wrapped up her presentation and the rest of the team departed on the jet, the bubbly blonde gave me a little tour of her office. Rossi wasn't joking about Penelope's love of glitter gel pens, and her desk was adorned with unicorn paperweights and mermaid statues.

"This is your workspace over here, (Y/N), although you'll mostly be assisting me for the first couple of weeks. Feel free to decorate your desk with as many unicorns as you please," she said.

The first hour or so of work was mostly getting situated in my new workspace, but we soon got our first call from the team, and it was from the man himself, Derek Morgan. Penelope pressed the button to answer the phone and his voice immediately came through the speaker for both of us to hear.

"It's your babygirl and her babygirl in training, what do ya need hot stuff?" said Penelope.

"Hey mama, I need you to look into Walter Price's bank activity for the last few months, see if there were any suspicious withdrawals or transfers."

"Anything for you gorgeous"

"Thanks babygirl, I'll be expecting your call back soon."

I sat with my mouth slightly ajar, looking over at Penelope dumbfounded.

"Do you talk to everyone on the phone that way?" you asked.

"Nope, just my sweet lover Derek Morgan."

I paused for a second before asking my follow up question, "so are you two like...in a relationship?"

"Only in my dreams," Penelope said with a wink. I let out a laugh because this whole situation surprisingly made me more at ease in my new job.

"As your intern, I guess it's my job to learn how to answer the phone like you?" I said with a wicked smile.

"Oh no my dear, at least, not yet. We've got a long way to go before you get to my level. And of course you'll have to find your own gorgeous man to talk dirty to, Morgan is already taken."

That definitely wouldn't be a problem, I already had the most gorgeous man on the team in mind.

I spent the next few weeks listening in on Penelope's phone calls and looking up information for her. I even got to help her present a new case to the team. After my first week, the team took me out to celebrate surviving my first case with the BAU. Even though I had become more comfortable around everyone on the team, I couldn't shake the butterflies Reid gave me whenever we interacted. However, I did notice that I was much more confident over the phone than in person. I tried to conceal my blossoming crush on Spencer as best I could, but I couldn't help but be the slightest bit sweeter to him whenever he was the one who called us.

During my second month of internship, we had a particularly hard time tracking down an unsub. Penelope was getting way too many names and she called Spencer to help her narrow down the list.

"There were traces of chlorine and calcium hypochlorite on the body which are chemicals commonly used in pool maintenance, Garcia narrow it down to men over 40 in the area who own pools or work in pool maintenance," he said.

"One name! It's Michael Dunlop, he works as a freelance pool maintenance man and, ooh get this, he hasn't responded to any jobs since the first murder on June 11th."

"Sending the address to your phones right now!" I interjected.

"Thanks (Y/N),"

"Anything for you, cutie" I said, with a sudden burst of confidence.

As I hung up with a satisfied look on my face, Penelope glanced over at me looking smug as ever.

"Cutie huh? That's a new one," Penelope said, "I knew I'd rub off on you sooner or later." And she was right. I started incorporating more color into my work wardrobe and I even brought my tiny stuffed cow to sit at my desk.

"You said I had to find my own gorgeous man to flirt with on the phone...so I did."

"I knew it! You have a crush on our genius boy-wonder!" She was positively giddy just by the thought of it. "I mean he's always sitting next to you and looking over at you when he thinks no one is noticing. You would think in a room full of profilers that I wouldn't be the only one to notice, and yet here we are."

It never occurred to me that my little crush might actually be reciprocated. Spencer was always a bit socially awkward, so I just assumed that he was the same way with me. I never once thought that he was actually as nervous to talk to me as I was to him. This fact somehow boosted my confidence even more, and I decided to have some fun with Spencer over the phone.

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"Cutie huh?" Morgan asked the blushing boy. Spencer was used to Penelope teasing him, but this was different. He had been harboring a small crush on their newest intern for the past month, and when she flirted with him over speakerphone for Morgan, of all people, to hear, Spencer couldn't help but turn as red as a tomato.

Of course, being a profiler, Morgan took notice of Reid's crimson cheeks. "Call me crazy but I think she likes you, pretty boy."

"O-of course not, she's just copying the way Garcia talks to you," Spencer stuttered.

"That may be true, the only difference is that you have a little crush yourself."

Spencer didn't bother trying to lie since he knew Morgan would see right through him, so he just mumbled something about Prentiss and Hotch needing them at the location (Y/N) sent.

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It was a lot easier to flirt with Spencer when he wasn't physically in front of me. When we were in the office together, we'd shoot each other smiles from across the room or he'd bring me an extra coffee in the morning. But when he was out in the field and I was back at my desk at the BAU, it was a whole different game. I tried my hardest to make him blush over the phone any chance I got, and it seemed to be working. After Penelope found out about my little crush, she decided to play matchmaker and slip Spencer my work phone number to call me instead for information. For the first time, I heard my phone ring instead of Penelope's and I immediately answered.

“Give it to me good baby, what do you need from me?” I replied. I knew it was Spencer since he was the only one who had my number.

"Hey (Y/N)" he said, and I swear I could hear him smiling through the phone. I could tell he had become more comfortable with our one-sided phone flirting over the past month. "I need you to look up all of Dr. Gupta's patients at the psychiatric clinic for the past 3 months, see if any of them drive a black van."

"You got it, gorgeous. If you need anything you know you can always bang my line."

---------------------------------------------------------

“You have (Y/N)’s number?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked puzzled, “Yea.. don’t we all?”

“I think it’s just you pretty boy” Morgan quipped, as he chuckled and gave him a pat on the back.

Spencer had grown fond of (Y/N)'s phone flirtation, but he was too embarrassed to return the favor in front of his colleagues. He loved watching her walk around the office in her high heels, trying to keep up with Penelope's fast pace. He knew brief glances and morning coffees weren't going to cut it anymore, he had to do something before her internship was over. So he decided to call her on his way home from working the case.

---------------------------------------------------------

The team had just finished a case and were on the plane headed back to Quantico. Penelope had plans so she left me to wrap things up in the office. Just as I was making my way towards the door, my phone began to ring. Confused, I picked up the phone and listened to see if it was a misdial.

"Hey babygirl."

I nearly choked when I realized who was speaking. My body involuntarily shivered and my heart quickened its pace. This "babygirl" hadn't come from Morgan, it was Spencer on the other line.

"Hi Spencer! What's up I thought you guys wrapped up the case?" I asked in a confused tone.

"We did, but I thought I'd call you without everyone else around." His voice sounded sultry and silky smooth, unlike his usual rapid rambling, and it made it so much harder for me to speak. "We should be landing in about twenty minutes, stay in your office and I'll meet you there."

"Okay, I'll be waiting here, handsome."

--------------------------------------------------------

Those twenty minutes were the longest twenty minutes of my life. I knew Spencer had a crush on me as well, but what could he possibly want to meet with me for? Was he going to ask me to stop flirting with him on the phone? Was he going to ask me out? Was he trying to make out with me? God I secretly hoped it was the latter...

Just as I had been getting lost in my own thoughts, I heard the familiar voices of the rest of the team down the hall. I knew Spencer would be walking into my office any minute, so I nervously fixed my hair and applied the lipgloss Penelope gave me.

"Hey babygirl," said the tall man standing in the door frame.

"Hi Spencie," I said with a smile as I called him the nickname I lovingly gave him, which I'm sure he secretly hates. I couldn’t help but grin since the word “baby girl” still seemed so foreign coming from his mouth. I stood up to meet his gaze as he slowly made his way over to my desk.

"I know you've been teasing me these past couple weeks," he said as we closed the gap between our bodies. I would say our faces were inches from each other, but he was impossibly tall and my face didn't reach past his chest, "but now its my turn to tease you," he said as he brought his hands behind my ears and pressed his lips onto mine. He was gentle and tentative at first, but I passionately pressed my lips back against his to deepen the kiss. I ran my hands through his gorgeous locks and began to tug. We quickly became a breathless mess and I couldn't help the feeling building in the pit of my stomach. His hands traveled down to my waist and he gingerly pulled me closer. He was both hesitant and passionate, not quite sure if he should act on his instincts. He pulled back for just a second to speak:

"I know you only have a few weeks left with us, but would you like to get coffee sometime?" he asked with those same puppy dog eyes that made me fall for him in the first place.

"Oh Spencie, we're a bit past coffee don't you think?" I said with blushy cheeks. "Let's get dinner sometime, I'm free any night except Tuesday, I have Zumba class with Penelope."

"She really has influenced you a lot hasn't she?" he said, making a mental note of the pink scrunchie in my hair.

"In more ways than one hot stuff."

---------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few weeks, I spent my days phone flirting with Spencer at work and my nights making out with him in my office or eating Chinese take-out in his apartment. No one on the team, not even Penelope, knew about our brewing workplace romance, and we intended to keep it that way until I was hired permanently. However, that didn't stop him from flirting back on our calls. I was on my last week of internship and I was now the only one who Spencer called when he needed information. Spencer and I had agreed to take it slow, but our most recent calls had me desperate to find out what else he was packing besides the gun strapped to his hip. Just then, a call interrupted my wandering thoughts and I immediately picked up knowing it was him.

“Dayton Ohio you're on the air" I answered in my sexiest voice possible.

"I'd like to make a request," Spencer replied.

"You can request anything you want, doctor" I could hear him chuckle behind the phone before telling me what he actually needed.

"I need you to look up a marketing firm by the name of Firsthand Media and see if they have any connections to the colleges of the first set of victims."

"I'm on it, sugar" I answered.

"Oh and one more favor, look up the words beautiful and brilliant and see what you can find."

"Look at that, it's me"

"You're the best (Y/N)"

I could feel Penelope's eyes on me before she turned around and said

"I've never been more proud."

The rest of the day was filled with calls from the other agents to Penelope, mostly Morgan, until that evening when I got one last call from Spencer. He asked me to see if there were any men who had been admitted to the hospital in the last 6 months for brain injuries, but no one came up.

"Couldn't find anything, looks like you're going to have to punish me Spencie," I replied.

"You'll just have to wait til I get back for that"

He hung up, and I couldn't believe what I just heard. Penelope and I were in shock that Spencer Reid could be so dirty. For once, I was the one blushing on the other end.

"(Y/N) I swear to god if you don't let that man make sweet love to you I am personally writing your letter of resignation"

"Penn! We just flirt is all, like you and Morgan, I could never actually be with him"

"So you two haven't been using my sacred office space to make-out between cases?" she asked with raised eyebrows. I stood there, with my mouth open and eyes wide, looking guilty as ever.

"You do know there's a camera in this office right?" I was mortified. Thank God we'd never done anything more than kiss in this office.

"You knew this whole time? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh Morgan knows, but everybody else is still in the dark because I didn't want to risk you not getting hired. And I hacked into the security computers and deleted the footage."

"Thank you so much Penn, and I promise I won't have anymore heated makeout sessions in this office, or anywhere in this building for that matter."

"Anything for my little protege. But in all seriousness, you should definitely ride boy-wonder off into the sunset and make it official once you're hired."

"Penelope!" I hit her in the arm, only half jokingly because I knew deep down that that's exactly what I should do.

---------------------------------------------------------

As usual, I waited in my office for Spencer to meet me. But this time, I was determined to go back to his apartment and finish what we started over the phone.

"Hello beautiful" he said as he made his way over to me. He greeted me with a hungry kiss and it took every ounce of strength I had not to pin him down and ride him in this office.

"Spencer listen, we can't makeout in this office anymore. Garcia and Morgan know about us already and she had to delete the footage off of the security cameras."

"Morgan knows? That present he gave me actually makes a lot of sense now."

"Nevermind that," I said before moving closer to whisper in his ear, "what I need now is for you to punish me like you said you would."

I could feel his heart beating out of his chest, his eyes went wide but faintest hint of a smile appeared on his deliciously soft lips.

"well then what are we waiting for" he said as he grabbed my hand and practically pulled me out of the office.

We wasted no time getting back to his apartment. Reid was always such a cautious driver, but this time he was driving like his life depended on it. Once in the building, he wouldn't let go of my hand and we were practically sprinting towards his door. He fumbled with the key for a moment before the door sprang open and I pushed him inside with the force of my lips on his. His hands had become quite comfortable exploring my body, and tonight was no exception. I tugged on his tie without breaking the kiss and he let out a heavy sigh as I led him towards his bedroom. I pushed him once again, this time down onto the bed, and I practically jumped on top of him to straddle his waist. As I let my weight rest on the growing bulge in his pants, he let out the sexiest groan and I could feel the wetness pooling in my panties. I continued to grind on him as we completely devoured each other. This wasn't the first time we'd done this, but this time it was different, we both wanted more.

"Spence please," I whined, "I need you."

"You can have me baby," he replied, looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes that I adore so much.

We quickly undressed and I raced to climb back on top of him.

"You really are beautiful," he said while tucking a loose strand of hair back behind my ear. I smiled back at him and gently kissed his lips before going back to grinding over his now bare cock.

His groans were like music to my ears and I couldn't help but sighing at the feeling of him gliding across my exposed cunt.

"Baby please, I want to be inside you," he pleaded.

"Do you have a, uh, condom?" I asked, somewhat sheepishly.

"I do...that was actually the 'gift' that Morgan got me," he said followed by a nervous chuckle. He reached into the drawer on the bedside table and, slightly trembling, opened the package.

"I-I just want you to know that I haven't done this in a while, (Y/N)," he began, "I don't know if I'll be any good." He was just as nervous as I was. I gave him a sympathetic nod before replying.

"It's okay Spence, it's been a while for me too. I guess you could say we get pretty caught up in our work."

"Agreed," he said, slightly more at ease.

As soon as he finished up rolling on the condom, I wasted no time lining him up with my entrance and sinking onto his length.

"Fuck, baby" he moaned with his eyes screwed shut "you feel so good." It was insanely hot to hear such foul language come out of Spencer Reid's mouth.

"You want me to ride you baby?" I asked teasingly.

"Yes please..."

I began to bounce rapidly on his dick, feeling every inch of him come in and out of me. I had a feeling he wasn't going to last long, but I didn't care, I was beyond happy to just watch the pleasure that I was bringing him. I took his hands and placed them on my breasts, which caused a simultaneous moan to come from the both of us.

"God (Y/N) you're going to make me cum" he said, nearly out of breath.

I knew he was close, but I was slowing down as my legs began to give out on me. He sensed the slowing of my pace, so he took one hand from my breast, wrapped it around my waist, and began to pump into me from below.

“Consider this your punishment babygirl”

This new angle was heaven to me and I couldn't help but cry out. He was fucking me so hard I swear I could see stars.

"Oh god Spence," I moaned. For someone who has been out of the game for a while, he was making me feel so good.

"I'm gonna...I'm..." he muttered.

"Let it out Spence, cum for me baby."

And with that, he spilled his load inside the condom. He just kept coming and coming inside of me until there was nothing left. Spencer Reid was utterly and completely spent.

---------------------------------------------------------

“Well Dr. Reid, you sure know how to please a woman,” you said poking him in the rib.

“What can I say, I’m an overachiever,” he replied with a cocky smile plastered on his face.

As I was about to go in for a kiss on his cheek, my cellphone rang, and it was a call from Penelope.

“Hello my pretty! Sorry in advance that I’m probably interrupting your sexy times with boy-wonder but I just couldn’t wait to tell you. You got the job!”

“Oh my goodness! That’s great news, thanks Penn! What department am I in?”

“You’re going to be working in the international intelligence department, aaaaand that means you’ll probably have to report your little romance directly to human resources.”

“Sounds good Garcia, we’ll take care of that first thing in the morning,” Reid interjected.

“Ah, so boy-wonder is there with you! Looks like you took my advice after all (Y/N),” Penelope replied.

I rolled my eyes and said “Goodnight Penelopeeee” in a sing-songy voice.

“Goodnight you two, be safe and don’t stay up tooooo late.”

“Aww, what ever happened to the fun Penelope Garcia?”

“She’s not here right now but leave a message, bye!” And with that our conversation was over.

“Guess it’s time to tell the rest of the team about us”

“I guess so Spence, good luck handling all the teasing on your own baby,” I said with a giggle and planted a kiss on his cheek before drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow was surely going to be an interesting day at the office.

__________________________________

AN: Thanks for all the love, shameless plug for my newest oneshot The Visit

Taglist: @alondralolll@irehluvr@abbeyskeff@kaldurahms-lover@mischiefmanaged21@cheerful-clarinet@julesasf69@its-like-twilight@spearbsm@xxrookexx@oliveoilthoughts@twilightlover2007@comboboo@breadrobin@sunflowers-420@the-holy-trinity-l@frickyea-guacamole19@ayatos-wife@ghostheartbeat@famfan-1034@ivyproblems@lavenderrway@rogerismyqueen@talkintrashcann@chatxconverse@phoenix1388@dumbredpotato@ourprisma@autisticallyreid@curvingdoll@strwbymoon@tomorrowxforever@alexabsinthe@myliteralhyperfixations19@cloudy-em@prentisszlover@cami-is-reading@ichundjulia@rubywritesblog@blameitonthenight21@xsophx27-blog@mariezanny@gubes-sweaters@ohmoaohbaby@lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests@secludedstarlight@clockgirl94@theonewhereifangirl@nervousmoongiver@tearsofsound@suburban-forest@unkn0wnnerd@creativeuser101@bigassnocash@chasedbyunclewalt@abbyandersonssecretgfsecretgf@iheartlilia@cryingabta@justsomeimbicel@ssaspencerreidswife@likeawinebottle@imanewsoul@singinghamtaro-blog@lovingperfectionsblog@deafeningmiraclecherryblossom@secretlovezz@inlovewithemilyprentiss@jenthebin@walmartclearance89@theseverefangirl@tulips-ean@gummybear123@myravenchaser@tpickett@librarymousesqueak@pocketful-of-sunflowers@climbingivy97@ghost-wonder@sparrow-winchester@thbckgrnd@mswgtsd@kirmaaa@taliegator@jinecie@unlikelypaintertreeknight@notagirlfangirl@sarahsmiles-user@luvehotch@cosmoscoffeee@ara-a-bird@lesbiansayaishii@itsmeelena@just-a-lil-xtra@willowtree42095@the-way-of-the-hall@theedwardscissorhandslover@thosewhocantdo-teach@slay-and-gay@luvurmind@witchyval@fandom-alley@wifeyreid@samandhislostshoe@whoamiomakeachange@xcastawayherosx@danis-stuff-is-here@love4lando

#criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #penelope garcia #matthew gray gubler #mgg #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #david rossi

[starshapedb0x]

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ✧˚ · .

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and carlos sainz have had your eyes on each other for so long, but the more you think about the each other the more jealous you get for others who get to spend time with the other. Who will fall first in this little game you’re playing?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 18+ (minors dni and read at your own discretion.), jealousy, semi-public sex, party, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), poorly written smut (first timer guys), mirror sex, Rudy Pankow involved because I need a random celebrity

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x model!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2K+

𝐀/𝐍: very much inspired by “boyfriend” by ariana grande and social house music video. first time writing something like this, I might write more, requests always open.

There you stood in front of the big, dark wood door of the huge mansion where the party you’d been invited to was happening. Your stylist had picked a black sparkly short dress with stars on it, paired with under-the-knee high heel boots. Your ears and neck are adorned with silver jewellery, matching the bracelet around your wrist. The invite said to be there at around 21:00, but you are Y/N Y/L/N. You didn’t need to arrive a little late to make an impact on whoever was in there, but the team that worked with you knew how doing so reinforced that effect. And even if it was a private party, the paparazzi were going insane with your image spread on their cameras. Y/N, the epitome of beauty, the woman every magazine wanted on their covers, every designer on their runway, and every photographer in their studio.

You gave wide smiles to the paparazzi as you walked into the house. Other than the lack of light and the loud music all around, you noticed the main guests this party was for: all of the F1 grid. You were acquainted with them, but from the first meeting, you found them to be a nuisance to your job, to your image, and most importantly, to you, there were a few you tolerated but the way they messed with anyone that was involved in modeling threw you off. But.. him. Carlos Sainz, the one man you’d danced with on those warm summer nights in clubs, parties, or anywhere you were invited that enhanced your reputation. The black classic suit he was in, and to make it a little more informal, without the tie. The dress shirt unbuttoned the right amount, showing off just enough of the chest you’d rested your head on before. And under the lack of light, his eyes looked even shinier.

Throughout those months, Sainz and you had your eyes on each other. You only spoke to each other in person never through texting, but the amount of time both of you spent just looking at each other’s social media pages was too much to be safe for the average person. You saw every picture posted on his account, along with every one he was tagged in. But so did he. And every picture you took holding a man that wasn’t him a little closer than usual had him gritting his teeth and holding his phone a little tighter than usual. To be fair, you knew what you were doing without looking at it; you helped pick the photos for your social media, thinking about what reaction you’d get from the driver if he were to see them.

Of course, you greeted every one of them, talking loudly so you could be heard over the loud music. What a season! They deserve the break and whatever party is thrown for them, although you were sure they’d rather sleep. The other driver you actually got along with was Lando, so as soon as you went and said hello, the conversation went smoothly, catching up with the last few months. You couldn’t help but eye the Spaniard from the corner of your eye, sliding the tip of your fingers along the side of Lando’s arm as you laughed lightly at a joke he cracked. Carlos couldn’t just walk over and snatch you away from his friend and colleague, slapping his hand away even if it wasn’t touching you, so he decided to play your game.

Approaching another guest, she giggled as you watched the Spaniard move his lips, finishing with a grin playing on them. He eyed you almost directly, but somehow the woman in front of him didn’t notice. At this point, the conversation with Lando had faded out a bit, and he offered to go get you a drink, which, after turning back to him to stop looking at Carlos, you accepted. You stood there for a second. You weren’t going to let Sainz win the game you started. To your luck, Rudy Pankow walked right past you and, upon noticing, greeted you right away. Looking back at the Spaniard, who now had his hand placed very lightly, almost not touching the hips of the woman in front of him, as they both laughed, you hugged the blonde actor tightly and longer than usual. You held his arms, asking him how he was doing and how everyone was. He replied to you, but everything you could focus on was the Brunette man giving you a quick look, your eyes meeting for just a millisecond as the woman hugged him tightly while telling him something he genuinely didn’t care about at the moment.

"Rudy, that’s so nice." You said this as he told you all about what he was filming at the moment. He lowered his head slightly to hear what you needed to say, and reaching your mouth to his ear, you continued. "I really need to go touch up; I won’t take long, promise."

With that, you walked to the bathroom. It didn’t take you long to find it, but to your surprise, the bathroom was huge. There was a long counter with a sink and a vase with flowers placed on the other end, two round mirrors along that wall, and not one person was in there. Right after you left his field of vision, the one and only Carlos Sainz rushingly left the embrace of the woman, whose name he didn’t even remember, and without saying goodbye, basically ran after you.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, carefully running your fingers through your hair to fix it up, a silhouette showed up behind you. And without even looking carefully, you knew exactly who it was. "Carlos Sainz. You looked like you were having fun over there."

"Cállate, Princesa." (Shut up, Princess.) He says it in a more joking way than anything else. He makes his way over to you, shutting and locking the door behind him swiftly. You turned to him, and the moment your eyes met, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The Spaniard’s hand flew to your hips, roughly gripping them. You threw your arms around his neck, letting your hands run along his dark hair. Both of your lips crashed into each other abruptly. Both of you lost the game. You lowered your hands to his chest, sliding them up to his shoulders under the black blazer he was wearing. It was far too hot in here for him to be wearing that. You slid your hands down just slightly, and Carlos placed his arms back, letting the blazer fall off, landing on the cold floor. His hands fell right back on you, and they roamed along your back. Every touch of his fingers against your skin made you press up against him, closing every air gap between you. He lowered his hand to the back of your thighs, picking you up and setting you down on that counter. As he set you down, you grabbed his shirt’s collar and pulled him towards you. It all felt so desperate and somewhat rushed. Both of you felt hot and in a trance; you both pulled away from each other. Carlos looked at you with those brown eyes of his, and you held your breath at the sight in front of you, his mouth slightly open, panting quietly, his once neat hair now messy. But you weren’t the only one in awe. Carlos looked at your face, lips red and swollen from the previous kissing, cheeks visibly warmer than before, and eyes carefully watching his every move. Nothing else mattered right now; the music was significantly lowered in volume in here, and all you could hear were your company’s panting along with yours. The Spaniard didn’t take long to place both of your lips back together, and you roughly roamed your hands on each other, moving almost savagely on the counter—CRASH! Only you looked at the fallen, now broken, vase on the floor. "Wait, Carlos—"

"It doesn’t matter, cariño." He said, his hands reaching the zipper on the back of your dress, sliding it down and placing his hands under it, sliding one of the straps down to reveal more of your neck, then sliding the other one down to reveal your breasts, your nipples hardening at the contact with the cold air. He trailed kisses down your jawline and neck, reaching them. He worked carefully on both of your nipples, giving them equal attention. His hands rested on both sides of your waist. You rested your head back on the mirror behind you and intertwined your fingers with his hair. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, breathing shakily. His hand moved to the side of your thighs, sliding to the inner side of them, and not long after, right under your dress, lightly touching your clothed clit with his fingers. At which point you gasped, feeling almost dizzy. He rubbed it on top of your black lace panties just the right way—enough to keep you shaking from pleasure in his hands but not nearly enough to make you cum. "Carlos.."

"Dime, niña bonita." (Tell me, pretty girl.) He whispered lowly in your ear.

"Please, please make me cum." You desperately told him he slid your panties down your legs, you whining at the loss of contact in between your legs, and threw them near his blazer, and in a second he got on his knees in front of you, leaning his head against the inner side of your thigh. Your hands still rested on his soft hair as he pulled you towards him, sliding you on the counter. He pulled your dress up and guided his finger on your folds, hovering over your clit before pressing down. His finger slid slickly inside you, earning a choked moan out of your mouth. His tongue started working on your clit, and at the contact, you abruptly gripped his hair and practically screamed. As he got quicker, Carlos added two more fingers, and you could do nothing but let him, at this point only seeing stars. His pants were getting tighter as your moans became louder and your legs shook under the influence of his actions. Your legs instinctively closed around him as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you let out a string of moans, calling out his name. The Spaniard pried your legs open and got up. "I don’t remember saying you could cum, cariño. Fucking the obedience back into you doesn’t sound like a bad idea."

You panted, fucked out, and were sensitive from the orgasm you’d just had. Carlos didn’t seem to care as he slid you down from the counter and turned you around to face the mirror. You could see him with his hands lowered in the mirror, but what confirmed he was unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants were the noises, the clinging of the metal part of the belt and the unzipping of the dress pants. After doing so, he looked up at you, placing his hand near your mouth and resting his fingers on your lips. You took them in your mouth, sucking gently on them and coating them with the saliva built up from simply looking at the male behind you. Carlos stroked himself a bit, sighing, before pressing his cock against your pussy. "Fuck. Carlos, just do it." You moaned out, lowering your head with both hands to your sides and supporting yourself on the marble counter of the bathroom. He stopped himself.

"What do you want me to do, Princesa?" You shivered under his touch, one of his hands going up to your breasts, flicking the hardened skin of your nipple between his fingers, the other under your chin, almost wrapping around your throat from the front. He made you look at yourself in the mirror. "Look at you. I bet none of those guys have ever left you like this, have they? I know you posted all those pictures just for me. You get off at the thought of me getting jealous over you, huh? Princesa?" 

You looked at yourself in the mirror; the mess you were in under his touch was unmatched. Fucked out and breathless, still waiting and begging for more, your hair falling on both of your shoulders, your skin glistening with sweat and desire, He was right; no one to ever touch you had touched you like he did; you were ruined for other men after today. "I need you right now, please, Carlos, please." You begged, looking at him through the mirror.

"Only because you asked nicely, niña bonita." He slid his cock into your pussy slowly, groaning.

"You had to put it all in, you fucking asshole." You said that, struggling to keep your legs still so you wouldn’t fall.

"Perdóname, but I’m not halfway in." (Forgive me.) He cooed, leaning against you and tightening the grip on your throat to hold your head up still. Your knees gave out slightly, and you tried to keep your strength on your arms. The unstoppable noises slipping out of your lips could only encourage Carlos more, as he finally thrust in everything he could, earning sharp panting for you underneath him. He started thrusting into you at a slow pace, although it didn’t take him long to speed up, and it didn’t take long for you to feel that pit in your stomach again. Finally, it hit you—that sweet spot you liked so much. Your whole body trembled as Carlos hit it, and noticing it, he angled his thrusts towards that same spot. It was being used and abused, and you couldn’t hold out like this much longer. You were practically screaming; no one outside could hear you both with the loud music and chatting of everyone, but even if they did, at this point you couldn’t care less. "Y/N, Y/N.." Carlos chanted, his thrusts getting sloppier, his breathing getting heavier, and his moans getting louder.

"Please let me,.. ugh.., please let me cum, Carlos." The way his name slid off your tongue drove him wild. "Cum for me, Princesa." He almost begged in your ears; you felt yourself tense up, and from there you were lost, crying out his name, gripping on anything you could around you, and your legs shaking from the wave of pleasure that shot through you.

As you rode out your high, you felt Carlos halt and pull out, spilling his seed onto your thighs, holding you against him, and pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could reach on your skin.

__________________

Carlos was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out, his blazer on the floor next to him. You sat on top of him, head leaning against the counter; you were dressed now, and you innocently giggled at whatever he was saying. He had his fingers running along your cheek, and you had your fingers gripping the collar of his shirt. Your lips inches away from his.

"Estás tan hermosa—"

An unlocking noise was heard, and Lando walked in. Both of you halted and leaned back away from each other’s touch. Lando looked at the both of you, still you sat on Carlos’ legs, furrowing his eyebrows and visibly gritting his teeth. He looked at the broken vase on the floor and at the way you were now adjusting the strap of your dress while Carlos buttoned his shirt back up. And before any of you could speak, he just backed away.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #f1 x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader

[imthebadguyyy]

Hey, hope you’re doing well? 😌✨ I saw you opened requests for Lewis and I thought about one where reader and him are out somewhere at an event and the subtle physical affection they have. They’re both rubbing the inside of each others arms at different moments and they’re also smiling at each other when the other isn’t looking 🤭 I miss seeing fluff so that’s why I’m requesting it 🤣😭😭

Sugar Sweet Kisses and Velvet Caresses

pairing : lewis hamilton x reader

fandom : f1

synopsis : lewis can't quite keep his eyes off at you at the fia prize giving, but little does he know you can't keep your eyes off of him either.

requested!

a/n : thank you sm for requesting and interacting it means the world to me!! and i hope your enjoy it ☺️ also this image of lewis goes so well with this prompt

warnings : tooth rotting fluff

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

while lewis did generally enjoy galas because it meant he could go all out and dress up to the t, the prize giving gala was just plain boring.

it was the same droll jokes and mildly tense atmosphere as both toto and christian made petty speeches, that had him rolling his eyes and downing shot after shot of the non alcoholic beverage that had been provided for the table he was sharing with valterri, and his girlfriend tiffany.

he was mildly placated by the fact that you had accompanied him to the awards show, finding time out of your busy schedule of recording and touring to join him, looking etheral beside him, albeit bored out of your mind as the both of you exchanged quiet murmurs of sarcastic comments and disguised smirks.

as the ceremony unfolded, you had also exchanged discreet yawns and shared amused glances behind the veil of forced smiles with valterri and tiffany, who also did not enjoy the formalities of the ceremony. you found yourself becoming very good friends with the finn and the aussie, and you had spent many a race in matching mercedes caps with tiffany, cheering on your merc boys.

even after valterri joined alfa romeo, your close bond remained, and you found yourself in the alfa romeo garage when the mercedes one became too unbearable.

muffling a deep sigh, your fingers couldn't help but fidget with the silky material of the pink Versace dress you had chosen for the night, eyes taking in the dimly lit room and all the people in it.

from the table next to you, susie shot you a sympathetic smile, and you smiled back, giggling when she rolled her eyes and pointed discreetly to the stage.

you missed the way lewis' eyes were resting on your figure, a soft smile gracing his lips as he took in the wide smile on your own lips, the way you seemed to glow like a flickering candle, glimmering softly in the chandelier light. he couldn't help but feel a warmth rise to his face as he took in the curve of your nose and your long eyelashes, glittering with the sparkly mascara you had worn, to the outline of your cheekbone melting into your round cheeks, and the curve of your lips, painted in a glittery nude that suited you to perfection.

he took in a sharp breath, feeling mildly winded as he saw the way a stray strand of hair framed your face, slipping out of the neat bun you had elected to don, to the way your skin shimmered softly from the highlighter your makeup artist had put on you.

he took in the sight of your bare arms, the matching butterfly tattoo you both had on display on your forearm. his eyes trailed down to your hands, nails done in the same shade of pink as your dress, and fingers adorned in multiple rings, many of them gifts from him.

he took in the sight of the deep pink dress you were wearing, hugging every curve of your body like a glove, eyes softening as he took in the roll of your tummy in the dress and the way your it highlighted your collarbone, letting him glimpse into the dots that formed constellations on the bare skin.

he followed the trail to the way your leg peeked out of the slit in the dress, to the heels that adorned your feet, and shook his head softly with a smile as he saw that the heel on your left foot was dangling off your toes, since clearly his earlier warning of aching feet had come true.

he smiled as he recalled the way you had raised an eyebrow at him, and pursed your lips into a pout, and told him "i can't, not wear these heels babe, i got them just for this event!"

he felt his heartbeat quicken as he thought to himself for the millionth time, how in the hell had he gotten lucky enough to be with the goddess of a woman sitting beside him.

of course mr smooth wasn't as smooth as he thought he was because soon enough you felt his eyes delicately tracing the expanse of well, you, and you had to hide a blush at the thought.

lewis was snapped out of his daze when george and his girlfriend, carmen, came over to talk to him as the proceedings took a break.

as he turned to talk to them, his hand reached for your leg, resting on your thigh, gently squeezing it reassuringly.

as he engaged in polite conversation, he missed the way that your gaze settled upon him, taking in the sight of him in all his glory.

he had opted for an all black outfit , and he looked nothing short of jaw droppingly stunning. you took in the slightly crooked curve on his nose, smiling softly as you remembered many a night of pressing soft kisses to it, to the gentle smile he wore, a contract to the rough beard he adorned, to the little gap in between his teeth that you so adored, that flashed when he grinned at people.

you took in the silky black suit he was wearing, compliments his features so well, and the Cartier pearl necklace that he loved so much. the v cut of his suit allowed the necklace to gleam, and his tattoos to perfectly compliment it.

you took in the sight of his hands, littered with tiny tattoos that held so much meaning to the rings that rested on his fingers, many of which were gifts from you, some silver some gold, fingers intertwined with your own.

you took in the sight of his hair in a bun as well, a few loose braids framing his face making him look godlike.

you could feel your heartbeat flutter as you questioned how exactly you had gotten lucky enough to be with the man who sat in front of you.

lewis' hand trailed up from your thigh to gently grasp your arm, rubbing it softly, making you smile.

it was your way of reminding each other that you loved each other so much, when there were others around, since neither of you were really keen on pda. after all, as taylor swift had once said, "romance isn't dead if you keep it just yours"

the both of you were the definition of 'private, not secret' everyone knew you were together since about the beginning of 2020, and you two showed up at each other's races and shows, galas and awards shows. but it was a rare occassion where you were blatantly affectionate in public. you were shy, and lewis respected that and kept public displays of affection to hand holding and feather soft kisses after wins.

as alex and lily joined the six of you, you moved your chair closer to tiffany's, and lewis moved his closer to yours, so the two of them could sit as well, and lewis found himself reaching for your hands again, thumb tracing your knuckles and bringing your hand up for a quick kiss to your knuckles.

you couldn't help but flush at the chuckles from the others, while reaching out to gently rest your hand on his arm, while your other hand remained interlocked with his on his lap.

it was no secret that the both of you were absolutely head over heels for each other, and everyone knew it. they saw it in the way lewis' looked at you, as if you had hung the sun stars and moon in the sky, and how you looked at him, as if he was the softest sunset and the brightest sunrise.

they could see it in the way he spoke about you on the rare occasions he did, with nothing but awe and admiration for the woman he loved.

they could see it in the way you wrote about him in your songs, how you called him a gentleman in a world of boys, or how he was as handsome as a mansion with a view.

so when the camera panned to the both of you, showing the both of you gazing at each other with lovestruck gazes, eyes sparkling softy and sugar sweet smiles gracing your lips, and when the world champion was announced and lewis' name resonated on the speakers, it only felt right to press your lips to his.

your lips met in a sugar-sweet dance, a delicate blend of tenderness and warmth. it was a kiss that tasted like stolen moments and whispered promises, leaving a lingering sweetness on your mouths—a delightful confection of affection that resonated long after your lips parted.

his hand squeezed yours softly as he got up to get his prize.

you couldn't help the proud tears that sprung to your eyes as you watched him get up and accept the trophy for his eighth title, marking his place as a race in a league of his own.

everyone stood up as he made his way to the stage, and to your surprise, everyone stood up and clapped, and ginger spice even mouthed a sweet "congratulations!" your way.

as lewis began his speech, you couldn't help but snap a picture of him earning giggles from everyone around you.

"today, I stand before you not just as an individual but as someone profoundly indebted to the unwavering support and love of an extraordinary woman. my heart is brimming with gratitude as i attempt to express the depth of appreciation for the incredible person who has stood by my side through thick and thin.

to my dearest y/n,

In the rollercoaster of life, you have been my anchor, my steady compass guiding me through stormy seas. your unwavering presence has been the bedrock of my strength, and your love, the fuel that propels me forward.

in moments of joy, your laughter has been the melody that serenades my soul, making the highs even more euphoric. and in times of despair, your comforting embrace has been the sanctuary where my troubles find solace.

together, we've weathered storms, faced challenges, and celebrated triumphs. your belief in me has been a constant source of inspiration, pushing me to reach for the stars even when the night seemed impenetrable.

you, my love, deserve the glory of this moment just as much as I do, because without you pushing me to be the best, i wouldn't be here. thank you for being my confidante, my partner in crime, and my greatest supporter.

to the woman who has turned ordinary days into extraordinary memories, thank you for being the sunshine in my darkest hours and the reason for my brightest smiles"

as he ended his speech, you could feel tears dripping down your face and watery laughs from all around you, as carmen lily and tiffany all hugged you and wiped tears away from their eyes. you couldn't help the happy sobs leaving your lips, mouthing a quiet "i love you" to lewis, who was making his way back to your table.

as he approached, you couldn't help but kiss him again, hands gently resting on his chest as you kissed him deeply.

as the ceremony wrapped up and everyone began to get ready to leave, your hands remained interlocked, even as toto and susie suggested getting dinner with all the mercedes members present at the event.

you were content. you were happy. and you were oh so in love.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : i hope this is what you were looking for!! as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! ☺️

TAGS

f1 : @superlegend216 @ivegotparticulartaste @moon-enthusiast @ssararuffoni @theonly1outof-a-billion @ihateyougunthersteiner

all : @roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove @bluesongbird

TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST SEND ME AN ASK OR A DM SPECIFYING WHICH FANDOM ❤️

#lewis hamilton #lewis #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagines #f1 #lh #lh44 #f1 x reader #f1 drivers x reader #fluff #lewis hamilton x reader fluff #lewis hamilton imagine #mercedes #mercedes amg f1 #imthebadguyyyasks #asks #formula 1

[randombush3]

audentes fortuna iuvat

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two

words: 9541

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks III

content warnings: there’s some (a lot of) cheating + postpartum depression. it’s more frustrating than sad though x

notes: this covers 2019-22(ish). It was SUPPOSED to be the last part. It’s not anymore. I’m gonna do a fourth to deal w the mess I have created in a more self-indulgent amount of words than the 3k i had planned. That will probably have smut in it 😛

“Y/n left me.” 

The limousine you are in is completely black, save for the white lines being measured out right next to you. 

“What?” says Jenni. 

“She left me,” Alexia says once more. The hotel room is a non-committal beige. They lie in the same bed, the older of the two welcoming her lost teammate wordlessly and without judgement. Tomorrow, they will return to Barcelona, losers yet another time. “She moved back to london. She took Nico.” 

“She can’t just take Nico, can she?” 

“Y/n, how’s Nico?” Your stomach turns, but whether that is provoked by the thought of the baby boy you left crying in your father’s arms or by the white powder outlining the rim of the woman’s nostrils, you don’t know. 

Your son’s creasing eyes, red face, and grabbing hands appear in front of you. He screams as you walk away. He doesn’t understand why he has not smelt Alexia in weeks, and he misses the comfort of home. 

Everyone waits for your answer. No one comments on the bags under your eyes. “He's fine,” you say with a smile. “He loves it here.”

“I think she is depressed,” Alexia tells Jenni, comforted by the arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close and tightly and reminding her that she is not as alone as you have made her feel. “She told me that she couldn’t be in Barcelona anymore, but she said that without giving me a chance to come with her. Her bags were packed before the conversation started — she might as well have called me from the plane.” 

“Are you angry at her?” 

“Yes.” 

Alexia thinks about it. 

“No.”

“No,” you say when they point at your very own line. The drug holds a place of both familiarity and hatred in your heart. The fine, white powder reminds you of greatness – of being the most successful girl group in the UK – but, also, of hospital visits. It’s not a past addiction, but it could have been. You light a cigarette instead, though it will make the vehicle reek. “I can't. I have a son.” 

“You’re not a saint.” They boo. “You’re allowed to have fun. I saw you the other day, and you had no qualms with any drugs then.” 

“No, I'm not a saint,” you reply. You regret that night — however little you remember. “But I am a mother.” 

“Is it that thing? Postpartum?” Jenni asks. “The baby blues are really shitty, I've heard, but they’re not supposed to cripple you. Maybe the relationship has other issues.” 

“I'm not angry at her, Jenni,” Alexia repeats. “I miss Nico. He looks like her. He has started to look a lot more like her now.”

“He would definitely suit those sparkly bralettes.” Jenni giggles at the thought. 

With an understandable lack of good humour, Alexia ponders something more realistic. “He would suit a Barcelona kit.” 

“He would be made for it. You are his mother.” 

“I'm not angry at her,” Alexia says for the third time, just to make herself believe it. Just to carve those words into her bones and tell herself that it isn’t anger, what she’s feeling. “I don't want to be angry at her. I think I'm going to see if I can move to arsenal.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Well, I'm not angry at her.” 

“Alexia.” Jenni cups her cheek tenderly. “Ale.” She knows she shouldn’t. She’s not angry at you, and so there is no punishment needed. Not that… Not that kissing Jenni would ever be utilised as a weapon to get back at you. Or that she’d actually kiss her. 

“Daddy, I can't get him tonight. No, I don't want to stay over. Daddy, I…” You hate the baby. You hate yourself. You hate that Spain hasn’t done well, and that your fiancée is disappointed that nothing is how it was supposed to be. Alexia is probably lying awake in bed, missing her son, and missing you. You expect one of her teammates to call you soon, and tell her that she needs you. You’re her person. “I'm going to get some sleep and I'll pick him up tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime, okay?” 

“Alexia, bésame.” 

…

You had passively bought your house. It’s how property sale works when you’re a celebrity. People are always willing to do things for you if you know the price, and it never hurts to use your name to add a new flashy level to whatever stupid business they are running. It’s a mutual exploitation, to some extent. 

Highgate is beautiful. The house is beautiful. 

The reception room, with its high, decorated ceilings, is your favourite place to numbly take in the twisted jigsaw of your life when Nico has cried himself to sleep. The nursery is on the first floor. He is near enough for safety, but at a distance that allows you to regret all the mistakes you have made.

You watch him roll over onto his stomach, eyes trained on the baby monitor though your fingers graze the ivory keys of your new piano, attempting to compose something worthwhile. At this rate, your solo career is going to fail just like your relationship seems to be doing. 

Yesterday, while Alexia seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth, you came out. It was an off-hand comment during the Graham Norton Show. A quick ‘my fiancée named him. She’s from Barcelona’ was all it took. You hope Alexia, wherever she may be, has heard about it. Jenni would have told her. You trust Jenni to be somewhat on your side because she always has been. 

The doorbell rings just as you sniffle, wiping away the tear that slips down your cheek. “Don’t be pathetic,” you mutter to yourself. “You didn’t pay five million pounds to sit here and cry. You chose to come back home.” 

Being in England – colder, drearier, lonelier England – has made you realise that your decision was not the right one. Or maybe it was. It has proven that you are as terrible a mother as you convinced yourself you were back in Barcelona, and it has also shoved the cavity Alexia leaves in your life when you refuse her entry right down your throat in the form of a constant lump and a dull stabbing in your chest whenever you think about anything past whether Nico has had anything to eat. You can’t even feed him properly, despite it being supposedly in your nature. You buy formula from the nearest Waitrose. 

The doorbell rings again. 

The insistence is not uncommon seeing as you are, at the minute, the English press’s number one target. You open the CCTV app on your phone so that you can decide whether or not to ignore the potential stalker, and your heart rate spikes when you see the hooded figure standing on the porch. Back to the door, it is not possible to determine the threat. A well-buried maternal instinct kicks in for once, and you ensure that Nico is still peacefully out cold before getting up to answer the door with the poker from the Victorian fireplace firmly in your grip. Just in case. 

You are a mother, in whatever capacity you have decided that role looks like, and so you undo the three latches on the door with brave, protective fingers. The baby monitor’s volume has increased, and the fuzz of white noise is audible if Nico were to make a sound. The vague repulsion at the idea of it all is only an aftertaste in your silent prayer for the hooded figure to not want to kill you. Some sick part of your brain imagines Nico dead, as well. It tortures you. 

The poker in your other hand, for the most fleeting of moments, is almost plunged into your chest. The imaginary, self-inflicted wound makes you think of the blood and how the baby upstairs would wail until someone found him. The grimace of annoyance on your lips is nothing new, but you have no more time to torment yourself because the doorbell is pressed again, rather impatiently. 

You open the door and the hooded figure is right in front of you. “He’s asleep,” you say, the Spanish foreign on your tongue. 

Alexia shrugs, and her hood falls down, revealing the brunette tendrils that hang from her slowly sinking bun. “I came for you,” she replies, so earnestly that it is as if nothing ever happened: past pain forgotten and replaced by sprouting memories of soft kisses and mornings where leaving was too hard to do. Some of them, you think, are not real. They don’t seem to be. Your blank stare is unsettling. You almost don’t believe her. “Can we talk?” she tries, and you notice the team-issued duffle on the tiled floor she is standing on. Then, from the pocket of her hoodie, she extracts a pastry box. The plastic window is filled with circles of different colours, and she holds out the macaroons to you as if to bribe her way into a home in which she is unsure she belongs to.

Stepping aside, leaning the poker against the wall by the door, you scratch at the bare skin of your neck. Alexia, while sweeping an arm down to collect her bag, fixes her gaze onto the ring you are wearing, and the diamond glistens with hope that this can all be fixed. “Would you like to come inside?” 

She swallows the whine of anguish that tears her heart open at the idea that this might never be her house to live in, too, and she follows you dutifully as you lead her through hallways far more luxurious than the flat in Barcelona could ever be. This is what you left her for – the person you are, no longer in worn clothing with messy hair, is quite the opposite of the woman with her back to her moments before she had to focus on football. The necklace draped on your sharpened collarbones is new, and she does not dare believe what she has been hearing is true. Yes, there are pictures, but she trusts you. She will always trust you. 

“Have a seat,” you say, gesturing to the wooden dining table. It is clean enough for her to determine that it is unused. Alexia places the macaroons in front of her, and aches at how you sit at the opposite end. 

“I…”

“I thought you were going to give me all the time that I needed.” It is a statement of distance, as if your location is not enough. 

Alexia, eyes widening at how unwelcome she suddenly feels, needs only to remind herself of the impending date of the wedding. It is beginning to loom uncomfortably, with the excitement of getting married drained out like a low tide on a deserted beach. “We have two weeks. If it isn’t going to happen, then you should tell me now. We have to give everyone notice so that they can cancel their flights.” Your silence spurs her on. “You will need to contact the wedding planner, because you refused to let me have a hand in any of it so I don’t even have their number. I’m sorry that you won’t be able to wear your dress. Vivienne Westwood is a big thing for you, I know. I’m sorry that it’s inconvenient.” 

“But Alexia,” you whisper, “I don’t not want to get married.” 

Her eyebrows furrow, head tilted slightly to the left. “I know. That is why I am saying this.” 

Your voice grows louder. “No, no. Sorry, that wasn’t the easiest thing to understand.” Across the dining table, your love that has faltered, that has hesitated and been reconsidered and been stamped down over the past month, extends towards her: its final destination, always and forever. Alexia feels it grab her by the throat, wrenching the words from her before she can even formulate a thought in response, and her body is so drawn to you, in such a powerful fashion, that she pushes her chair out from the table with a grating scrape and is stepping towards you with a finality that makes her wonder if she’ll ever leave your side. 

As she approaches, the idea that she is here becomes a little too real. You have played with the fantasy of it, of course, but the tenderness in her usually fierce eyes does not match the anger you had expected, and, in the most feeble fashion, you have never felt more apologetic in your life. 

“I’m so sorry,” you begin to say. Tears stream down your face with freed anguish, and the words are so simple yet they bear the weight of your entire soul. “I’m so sorry, darling. I made a mistake, and I have been met with the most crushing of realisations: I can’t do this without you, Alexia.” I still want to marry you, Alexia. 

The room seems to close in on your despair, attempting to bottle it, almost, and keep you trapped underneath a haze of emotions you don’t quite know how to sort through. “I… I’m beginning to hate him.” The confession hangs heavy over Alexia’s bowed head as she stands frozen in place, stuck in her journey towards you but unable to arrive. “I’m acutely aware of how cruel it is,” you continue, this next admission being what agonises you the most. It floods the room with guilt, and your voice trembles with self-condemnation that reigns harsher than any other voice in your head. 

“It’s ridiculous. I’m evil and I’m wrong, and I just feel like it is inherently in my nature to be like this, as though some fault has been built into me with warning signs we evidently ignored.” You struggle to breathe. “I wish I could take back the day we decided to have him,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, lips doused in tears, skin searing with shame when Alexia cups your cheek with a strong, calloused hand. “He should not have to be stuck with me as a mother.” 

Your chest heaves, and you are finished. You have never verbalised it before now, and it is impossible to decide whether it has helped remove the lead lining of your heart where it has been bolstered against your will. Her other hand steadily rises to your face, but then, with only a second of hesitation, she is pulling you upwards and enveloping you in her embrace. You feel a little bit closer to her. “Mi amor,” Alexia murmurs, tone cracked with sorrow and regret. “Lo siento mucho. Desearía haber sabido, desearía haber estado allí para ti.” 

Gently, she tilts your face upwards to meet her gaze. “You are not evil and no estás equivocada. Estoy aquí ahora, y no te dejaré enfrentar esto sola nunca más.” You collapse into her. “I’m here, cariño, and I am not going anywhere.”

The sentiment is wonderful, and Alexia makes good on her word. 

When Nico begins to cry, the sound piercing through your choked sobs, Alexia realises she has missed all of her life with you. Being separated and being apart due to work, she now knows, are two excruciatingly different things. The whiny wails from upstairs visibly jar you, though you pull away from Alexia to attend to him. “I will do it,” she declares, though her firmness is not mean. “Sit down. Eat the macaroons – they’re… ‘to die for’?” You nod with instinctive encouragement. “Sí. They’re to die for. Try. Jenni says that the pink ones are the best.” 

“Jenni picked them out?” you ask with a briefly regained humour, eyebrows raising. “Had to get your friend to choose your apology gift?” In truth, neither of you know what Alexia would be apologising for, but Nico’s crying grows more incessant and Alexia is climbing the carpeted staircase before the topic can be discussed. 

Alexia reaches her son with tears brimming in her eyes. The failure of Spain at the World Cup is amplified by the idea that she has disappointed him, though he does not yet possess the tools to pledge his allegiance to her country. In fact, Nico has been sleeping in Manchester United attire (your father has been his primary carer of late, and he does not charge you money, so the price is obviously Alexia’s sanity). She is more than glad to smell his nappy, and delighted about the opportunity to change him into something less hideous. 

“Mama loves you so much,” she tells him as she manoeuvres his chubby legs into a plain, inoffensive onesie. “I promise, petit. I am going to help her, okay? And we are going to get through this together.” Alexia forgets about the taste of Jenni’s lips and the heat between them. “Mama just doesn’t see the direction she is going in. It is like her eyes are covered, and she is telling herself that she is walking down the wrong path, but this is not true. You are the most special thing in the world to us. You are the sunrise, the sunset, and the hours of the day.” 

She pauses to stand him up on his tiny feet, hands hoisted underneath his armpits. He is heavier than when she last held him, but she is stronger than before, too. Women’s football is growing, along with her muscles. Nico babbles out a vague reply, but Alexia hears what he is trying to say. “I agree. We’ll be alright.” And, with all her heart, it rings true. 

…

The following day, she calls the doctor for you, script written out on a piece of paper in front of her, translated perfectly so that her concern does not waver the information she needs to tell the receptionist. The clinic is famous and discreet, and they are quick to prescribe you antidepressants before the week draws to a close. You won’t be able to drink at your wedding, and everyone might think you are pregnant again, but Alexia reassures you that it will be worth it. 

Wrapped up in your own bubble, the three of you enjoy London in a way that isn’t possible in Barcelona. 

Here, Alexia has no commitment to football. There are no training sessions she must rush off to, there are no teammates to pry, and no one else to interfere with your private little routine. You quite like it, and she does too. It is only temporary, before you fly out to Menorca and hand Nico off to Eli in order to enjoy your respective bachelorette parties and then, in exactly seven days, your wedding itself. 

“You’re still smoking,” Alexia says disapprovingly, the sleep in her voice enough to make you feel a pang of guilt. It’s late at night when Nico has finally been soothed from his aching gums, and she has been able to climb back into bed expecting to find you asleep already. “Why are you awake?” 

“I’m still smoking,” you tell her. She sighs at the way you parrot her words, but presses an affectionate kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulders despite the lingering smell of cigarettes. “If I can’t drink, I’m going to smoke. This is Hollywood.” 

“This is Highgate.” Her accent curls around the name with something a little too foreign for her to ever consider this place home. “Why are you awake?” she repeats. 

You look down at the open notebook in your lap, the pages either blank or full of crossed-out lyrics. “He was so loud, but I can’t seem to write anything either so, really, it has been quite redundant.”

“I had to get a glass full of ice and hold it to my fingers so that I could help him. I could have lost some very important assets, but it seemed to do the trick.” He’s teething. You’re telling yourself that the antidepressants are little pills of miracle, and have kicked in already. “Feel.” She presses two freezing fingers to your cheek, and you gasp, flinching away from her. 

“There’s a teething ring downstairs, you know,” you tell her. She shrugs. Maybe it isn’t clean. “Don’t give yourself frostbite. I happen to quite like your fingers.” 

Alexia’s smirk is beyond suggestive, and her lips hit your neck once more with an entirely different heat to them. “Yeah?” You push her head away. “I bet it would feel good. Nice and cold.” 

“You’re delirious.” 

She continues to kiss you. “I don’t know what that means,” she mumbles into your neck, until her lips reach your face and she is near climbing into your lap – notebook long pushed onto the floor. “Dímelo en español.” 

“No lo sé.” 

“Ah. Una palabra inteligente.” 

“Claro.” 

She laughs into the kiss she presses against your lips. She never has never felt like this with anyone else. Never this relaxed, or loved, or safe. “Me vas a matar con tu inteligencia y voy a sentirme estúpida para siempre.” 

“I love you,” you state softly. “I love every part of you.” Alexia, in that moment, decides to never do what she did with Jenni again, and to never break your heart by informing you of her betrayal. 

…

You’re married. 

You’re married to Alexia, a woman who bears the beauty of a goddess and the strength and will of someone who could capture the sun and tame the fire that rages on its surface. 

You admire her as she sleeps so peacefully beside you, tanned skin warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the hotel room. Later, you will get on the ferry, go back to Barcelona, and then fly to Capri for three days alone before Alexia’s preseason starts. Aside from a few meetings with Dave, you theoretically aren’t swamped with anything. You’ll be joining her in her city with Nico with a bit more permanence than last time. 

Alexia buries her face in the covers, crawling into your open arms the minute the sunlight rouses her. “Everything is sore,” she groans, her bare skin slightly sticking to yours, the sweat from last night not yet gone. 

“What happened to ‘mi vida, one more time won’t hurt’?” you tease, impersonating her heavy accent over your English with enough drama to get her to elicit another grumble. This time, it’s something about being bullied. “Darling, we have to get up. We’re having breakfast with our parents, and apparently Nico has been upset that we got a night to ourselves.” 

“Pobrecito,” she replies with a newfound level of English sarcasm. She spent the wedding reception avoiding the dance floor, engaged in a long conversation with your father. The topics spanned over most areas of life, and briefly touched upon how you are doing now. Alexia, with much pleasure, confirmed the improvement, however miniscule it has been. She is very proud of you, and he is too. “I only want one thing for breakfast.” 

Her hands begin to roam, the band of her wedding ring hitting your pubic bone. “Mi vida, one more time won’t hurt,” she mocks you from before but in her sexier, Spanish husk, sucking at your collarbone, straddling your waist.

You replace your near moan with a thoughtful hum. “I really want pancakes. Do you think they’ll make me some?”

Downstairs, where it is brighter and impossible to conceal the hickeys on both of your necks, you greet your parents, brother, Anya, and Gio. Alexia’s mother, her sister, and Jenni are sitting at the table, too. Your baby is pretending he isn’t teething, and grinning like an angel. 

“How’s married life?” Anya asks as you take a seat opposite her, Alexia to your right. The table has a gradient of bilingualism, but Gio discovered that she picks up Spanish quite easily considering she can already speak one romance language. “We’ve already found, like, four articles talking about it.” 

“How?” you ask, but you are not offended. 

Gio shrugs. “Drones, I guess. Nothing bad, though. Some speculation about the other bride – if the article does mention that. Most talk is on the dress.” It was a bloody good dress. “And I suspect that there’ll be a juicy little question about who was your Maid of Honour.” 

“Don’t be salty,” you tell her. The MOH issue was sorted out years ago – perhaps 2015 – when you binged Friends together despite having watched it thousands of times before. Anya has been yours, Gio will be hers, and you will be Gio’s. And they say trios never work. 

“I left Mia with her dad for this.” 

“You shouldn’t have had a baby with a man-slag,” Anya says with a snort, enjoying her second mimosa and Gio’s grimace at the idea of her daughter having to put up with her father’s revolving door of one-night-stands. “You’re one to make terrible decisions. At least our girl over here’s married someone who looks at her like she’s hung the moon.” 

Alexia turns to you with a smile, as if on cue, with Nico in her lap. You glance at his rounded cheeks and shining eyes, looking back up at your friends as though to check they are still there. Alexia leans forwards so that she can whisper in your ear. “Te amo. Nico, también. Mi familia es perfecta.” 

…

Returning to Barcelona comes with one negotiated condition on your part. You buy a bigger apartment, where there is space for an office and extra bedrooms. Alexia says her teammates will be taking the piss out of her grand new place the minute she sees it, but she is more than content to contribute to the finances with her new-and-improved salary for this season. “It’s weird to think that I’m from Mollet,” murmurs Alexia, standing in the middle of the large lounge area, surrounded by boxes. Most are from your old flat, but a few have been flown in from London. Alexia wanted you to have your Grammy with you. “This place is so fancy.” 

“It’s half of what the men’s team get,” you remind her, holding Nico with care as he gnaws away on a frozen carrot. His saliva drips onto you, but the antidepressants are working, and the therapy has been effective enough for you to start taking childcare in turns. (You had tried to previously, but Alexia wanted you to focus on yourself, knowing that things will change for all of you once the season started.) “Hey.” You place your hand on her shoulder. She tickles Nico’s chin. “We deserve this. You deserve this. Why don’t you host one of your team’s dinners? I’ll take Nico round to your mum’s – God knows she’d love to shove some food down my throat, too.” 

She shakes her head, strands of brown unstraightened due to the stress of the move and falling out of her bun with a determination to defy her hair bobble. “They would kill me if I did it without you. They’re all far too grateful that you invited Taylor Swift to our wedding.” 

“She’s a friend.” If you hadn’t been distracted by various other happenings that night, you’d have clocked that Alexia’s side of the guests were completely up to their ears in celebrities they’d never expected to meet. “Okay, so do you want me to stay here?” 

“I always want you to stay here,” she answers. 

“Not what I meant.” 

“I won’t take it back.” 

Nico babbles an incoherent yet cutely Spanish-y noise, though his words are getting closer to being said at the old age of eight months. Then, suddenly, something in him clicks. “Mama,” he squeals, his little fist scrunching up the fabric of your t-shirt. “Mamama.”

“Nicolau!” Alexia replies with just as much enthusiasm, cupping his cheeks. She kisses his nose, and then his forehead, and then his chubby knees and socked feet. “Nicolau, sí, la mama et té a las mans! Bon noi, el meu bon i intel·ligent noi.” 

“Does that count?” 

“Mama,” Nico repeats, tugging your earlobe. “Mama. Mama.” It is easy to forget about the (lessening) resentment you harbour when he speaks. Alexia gets him to say it as many times as she can before he goes back to his carrot, but, even then, the two of you stay in that spot, marvelling at your creation. 

Slowly, she turns around in a circle, absorbing the plain walls and towers of boxes. “This is going to be good. Life is going to be good,” you declare with such a firmness that it has to be true. “Darling, let’s get to unpacking and then we can think about a date for this dinner party.” 

“We are going to plan the party?” She raises her eyebrows at you. “Is this party going to start at five o’clock?” 

“Not all of us shit yellow and red.” (In a national sense – you’d have haemorrhoids for United any day of the week.)

Alexia takes Nico off you, in a show of cultural dominance. You’re actually outnumbered, considering he isn’t a British Citizen, and though he shares no DNA with your wife, he has inherited the same ability to narrow his eyes just enough to serve absolute cunt whenever he so pleases. If you weren’t feeling so ganged up on, you’d be a little impressed. “Nico y yo vamos a hacer croquetas de jamón. Adiós.” 

“Darling, the kitchen isn’t–” But you cut yourself off, deciding that she can discover that on her own, along with the criminally empty fridge. You don’t hide your smugness at all when she finds you in your almost-finished bedroom, wearing a look of utter disappointment and mumbling out a heartbroken request for a food delivery as soon as possible. 

…

November marks three years of being together and, also, four weeks of having Alexia’s ‘DNA’ – a pomeranian called Nala, whose Instagram account is run by her favourite parent after you called it silly and told your wife you’d much rather attend to your own seventeen million followers. 

Towards the end of the month, after a well-spent morning and then a family outing to Barcelona Zoo, Alexia meets Jenni Hermoso in a restaurant in what Jenni calls ‘your new rich-people neighbourhood’ in her text to Alexia.

Alexia, really and truly, is happy to have her best friend back in Barcelona. She missed her last year, when Jenni had returned to Atleti, and that separation maybe made what happened the night Spain was knocked out of the World Cup just that bit more understandable. “You’re a Culer, no matter how hard you try to fight it,” Alexia had said when she had climbed back into her own bed, not wanting to fall asleep in Jenni’s arms. “It was terrible to not have Y/n or you.” 

You and Jenni: Alexia’s people. 

“How’s your wife?” Jenni asks with a grin, two glasses of wine into a pleasant evening at an expensive restaurant. “You’ve left her with Nico, so something must be working.” 

In truth, you have been determined to get better. There were articles released not long after the photos of your wedding were circulated, and those speculated a lot about how you are finding motherhood. The baby pictured, captured by long-range lenses and invasive drones, was the world’s first glimpse at what Nico Putellas L/n looks like, and reminded many of them that you had a child to care for when in London, yet were frequently spotted at nightclubs and parties. You rise to most challenges, however, and find it a lot easier to adapt to weekly therapy sessions and pills every morning when you have a wrongful image to disprove. 

“It’s as if it never happened,” Alexia says, both with pride and surprise. “She now seeks to spend time with him. She takes him with her to the recording studio – the album’s coming along well.” It’s your first on your own. Nico plays with one mixing desk, while Dave (flown in from London with the promise that the Barcelona sun will do wonders for his wife’s misery) plays with another. “And… Jenni, we’ve been talking. The clinic that we used for Nico asked us if we wanted to reserve sperm when we first had him, and now they have called asking if now is a good time. I think… I think that she is really considering it. She told me yesterday that her therapist wants me to sit in on the next session, so we can go over how we can make this time different.” 

Jenni frowns, which is not what the woman opposite her had expected at all. “Why are you two having more children? You’re only twenty-five, Ale. Isn’t this going to affect your career?” 

“The men do it all the time.” She’s done a spot of research. They are younger than her when their girlfriends start getting pregnant, and they continue to play with the added admiration that they are fathers as well. 

“Yes, but they have the benefit of getting paid millions. They don’t have to fight with their federation for pitches or pay, and they can focus on football without their career sparking controversy for even existing.” 

“Then my children will grow up with a mother who fights for change.” 

“Or they grow up with a pop star who only wants things she cannot have and a footballer who can’t spend any time with them because she is too busy speaking at various conventions so that the next league match isn’t cancelled.”

“Jenni, do you think your opinion would be different if Y/n was a man?” 

This elicits laughter from the other woman, who rolls her eyes in a way that can only be described as condescending. “Alexia, you’re forgetting that I’m a lesbian too, which is a magnificent feat.” Jenni references the kiss they shared, and what happened after that. “But, no. I don’t. I want you to be the greatest footballer in the world, and you want that too. What are you going to do when Y/n tells you she wants to move back to England? Are you going to give up your future here for her?” 

The waiter interrupts briefly, collecting their empty plates and carting them off with a mission to retrieve the bill after a sharply declined offer for the dessert menu. “You don’t even know if that will happen,” Alexia scoffs, though she is a little sad that her exciting news hasn’t been well-received. “I was going to say that I’d think about the name Jennifer if it ends up being a girl, but now I’m leaning more towards María…”

She is kicked under the table, and she has to hold in her cry of pain because this restaurant is one of your favourite places to eat. “Mapi cannot have this victory over me. She’d be insufferable. Ale, you simply aren’t allowed to do that.” There’s another kick, but it is more playful this time. 

Alexia laughs, smiling and thankful that the tension has diffused. “I’m only joking. Y/n has a list scribbled in the back of her lyric book. She’ll probably be called Elena.” That is much more acceptable to Jenni’s ears, and she files that information away for next year, when she’ll tell Mapi that Alexia doesn’t like her name.

…

It works. Alexia and you are lucky. The doctor tells Alexia that, if she were a man, the two of you would have to be extremely careful. Your wife marvels at your ability to destroy your body and stay fertile, but she supposes that you are not the kind of woman to be a lesbian. Sometimes, she wakes up in a cold sweat, believing that you have changed your mind and left her. 

The New Year is a fresh start. Alexia decides to fix the (not so) hidden cracks in your relationship. She confides in her newly-acquired therapist. She may have made a mistake once; the secret is sandwiched between her worries about your susceptibility to depression and how Nico is a decided food critic. 

Though the therapist, a lovely bilingual woman named Sofía, raises her eyebrows, she does not pry. She slides a paper calling card over to Alexia. The paper squeaks along the coffee table between the two comfortable armchairs of the office. “I specialise in couples. Seeing as your wife is already a client of mine, I think you should consider a joint session.” Alexia is new to the idea of mental health. Before, she had been too focused on football to care about it. Even when her father died, any professional she spoke to was only hearing how her mind worked because she knew it was what was best for her performance. “And, Alexia.” She looks up at the therapist with a small, nervous smile. “Congratulations on the pregnancy. I am sure Nico will make a wonderful older brother.” 

Morning sickness drags you out of your shared bed most days. 

Alexia asks you about couples’ therapy when you have finished your dry-heaving one morning. 

“I mean,” you begin before pausing, gulping down the sour taste in your mouth and hoping nothing else is trying to hit the toilet water until tomorrow. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise.” She is dressed in her training kit, but she slings her jumper over your shoulders as soon as you shiver. “Do you think it’s a good idea?” 

“It would do no harm.” As long as Sofía does not bring up Alexia’s confession, your statement will ring true. “You book the appointment. It’ll be easier to work around your schedule that way.” 

“When are you flying back to London?” Her question is not filled with hatred for the city, but with resignation to the fact that your job involves you being stretched between here and there. 

“Not until next month. I thought that I could take Nico to an away game with my dad if I got a flight for Saturday. The rest of the week would be interviews and photoshoots.” 

“How’s the album doing?” 

So far, your songs are only written when Alexia has paid you enough attention to swirl your thoughts and blur your vision. It is in these moments that the lingering, sinking weight inside of you dissipates. “Dave remains hopeful. It won’t fail, but I need it to be better than what we currently have.” 

Shamelessly, Alexia is aware of her effect on your songs. She smirks; “Alba has been begging to babysit, you know.” With no care for your current state, Alexia’s eyes rake up and down your body. You grow embarrassed by how you are slumped over the toilet, and how she is standing above you as though she runs your world. “You look beautiful, mi amor,” she murmurs as you bashfully duck your head between your bent arms. 

“You’re a flirt.” It feels too late for her to still be in the flat. “And you’re going to miss training if you don’t get a move on. There are eggs in the fridge, and Nico definitely liked the omelette you made him a few days ago. He’ll be waking up soon.”

A small sigh escapes the midfielder’s lips, but the prospect of the things she loves most in the world appearing in her life consecutively is enough to convince her to pad her way out the bathroom, swanning into the corridor with a little grin on her face as she sings out ‘bon dia’ to an impressively multilingual toddler and heads into the kitchen with the domestic intention of getting breakfast started. She leaves an omelette out for you, which you attack shortly after Alexia and Nico disappear into their daily routine. She drops him off at preschool, and you pick him up a few hours later, taking him first for lunch with Alba, and then to the studio. 

You come home to a showered Alexia who is memorising her most recent match. She lets Nico slide into her lap without hesitation, but she stays focused on the football even when he tugs on the strands of hair falling out of ponytail. You marvel at the idea of having enough room in your heart for so much love. You decide that you are not like Alexia, though it is not necessarily a terrible thing. A further observation from watching your wife settle her son with a calm, muttered Catalan telling-off, coaxing him into loving football as though he does not already, is that you are so very content with your life at the moment. 

But 2020 kind of sucks. 

For the entire world. 

You’re cut off from your home in any other manner than a digital one, and being stuck in a luxurious penthouse in Barcelona isn’t the worst fate, but it really isn’t ideal. 

Elena, however, has the benefit of coming into the world with ever (physically) present parents, who could recite the java script for Zoom given that they spend hours on therapy calls. Elena, bright and smiley and the picture of her mother, spends the first few months of her life in a happy, happy family, protected by an entire football team and a fierce older brother. (And a yappy Pomerianian called Nala.) 

“Y/n doesn’t like the name María,” Jenni tells Mapi when Alexia sends the first picture of your new addition to the Barcelona group chat. 

“The next baby is going to be a Jennifer,” Mapi says, to both the forward and the unimpressed midfielder walking a few paces in front of such a silly conversation. “For that, I can only feel sorry for her.” 

…

The routine changes the following year. 

It starts with an abrupt but expected conversation. One that Alexia has been dreading. 

Your album – the first one that is just you – was released two months ago, and it has done too well. Selfishly, Alexia had hoped it would fail. You have enough money, and she is earning more and more each season. Success, unfortunately, means that this little life can no longer exist. Or can it? 

“I have to do it,” you whisper to her, tears in your eyes though the smell of sex still lingers. The quietness of a child-free apartment allows for you to hear her gulp. “It’ll be different this time, darling, but I can’t be here anymore. I can’t fly out to London every few days. I can’t leave you with a five-month-old and a toddler when you are training every day and playing matches every weekend. It’s not fair on anyone.” 

Alexia kisses your bare shoulder, hands slipping round your waist as she pulls your sweaty body into her. Her chest presses against your back, but she is only behind you in this bed. She does not agree with you. She does not support it. But, like she always does, she bites her tongue. “If that’s what you want,” she replies, and part of you dies with the thought that she does not really care. “I love you. I want what’s best for you. For us.” And she tells Jenni all about it when she goes to see her a week later – the flimsy excuse of meeting a childhood friend for dinner enough to wrap a cloth around your eyes and leave you at home with a screaming toddler and a baby whose only flaw is that she grows distraught the moment she is put down. 

In the dimly lit living room, the tension hangs thick in the air. You lock eyes. “Why can't you just move with us? Everyone will want you, darling, and life would be easier,” you plead, a month down the line. The house in Highgate has been readied for your more permanent return. 

Alexia takes a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “Why can't you get it into your head that I'm not leaving Spain or Barcelona? This is my home.”

“What about the children? School? Life? My career? Does it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes soften. Your heart breaks, and the piece of you that has already died somehow dies again. “I'm thinking of the children. All the time, I think of them. About the reputation of my name – their name. Putellas, the greatest in the world, or Putellas, the one with potential wasted at West Ham?”

“You're being selfish, Lex,” you snap. “This is an opportunity for all of us, not just me. Think about their future!”

“Their future is here, in the culture they know, the languages they speak. I won't strip them of their identity for the sake of a 'better' life. And my career? I've worked too hard to build what I have here. I won't throw it away.” I don’t want to throw it away. Underscored by Don’t leave me again. 

The room echoes with the weight of her voice. “Their identity comes from both of us.” It’s too final for either of your liking. Elena begins to cry in her cot. “I want to try it. I want you to be open to trying it.” 

She gestures to the suitcases by the door. “Trying it and doing it are two different things. You’re taking them from me!” 

“You’re probably going to love life without them anyway!” you shout. You feel like the crying baby, except the tears rolling down your cheeks carry much more suffering than hers. “You’ll – what? You’ll go out with your friends, and you’ll be able to go to the gym whenever you want. No arguing, no crying, no toddler to entertain, no nappies to change. You never wanted children. I forced it upon you. I regret it, and I’m sorry. We’ll go.”

“Don’t go.” 

I don’t want you to go.

“I have to.” 

You turn your back to her as you fly through the corridor, prepared to console Elena in a taxi. Alexia slips her ring off her finger, and clutches it in her palm instead. Desperately, she searches for a solution. There is nothing within her reach, not even you. 

… 

She is an island amongst a sea of happy people. She is going to be the greatest footballer in the world. It kills her to realise that she can now focus on football. 

Nico starts nursery, attending the same school you once did. He adjusts to life in London seamlessly, and Elena does not seem to care either way. He learns more English every day, and his other mother calls him nightly to read to him. 

With childcare more than sorted, you are free to be interviewed, pictured, and invited to events. You rake in the publicity, especially after laying so slow over the course of the lockdown in Spain. 

“Alexia.” Jenni’s hands knead her tight shoulders, partly teasing her. Alexia wears a frown, eyebrows knitting together with an emotion she’s not sure she can name. “Ale, it’s the same game as always. Nothing has changed.” 

“I know,” she murmurs. “I don’t understand why I feel like this.” She has continued to speak to Sofía, though your joint sessions have now come to a halt while you spend your time doubling as a singer and model. The therapist, try as she might, cannot evaluate the situation effectively enough. Eli and Alba have both tried to help, hoping that weekly dinners and the constant reminder about the invention of aeroplanes would ease the turmoil of Alexia’s mind. It does not. “I am so alone, Jenni.”

Nala is too small to fill the emptiness of the flat. Screens don’t allow for her to kiss you, or play with Nico. She is scared she will miss Elena’s first words. 

“You don’t have to be.” 

It only takes a month for Alexia to break, and it sort of works. 

In Jenni’s bed, it works. Hips keening, soft pants falling from her mouth. 

Quiet moans that stay locked in Jenni’s apartment. 

Each time Alexia leaves, though Jenni repeatedly requests that she stays, she walks out as half a woman. She blinks back her tears and she checks her phone. When she calls you – not a video call – you are never any the wiser to the scratches down her back. 

Alexia remains an island, but the sand beaches are tainted with the arrival of someone else. 

In this way, she is functional. 

She can do sex. She can deal with borderline romance. She can fill the space that you are tearing open with every passing minute spent in that god-awful country you insist on calling home. She can fix it a little bit with Jenni. 

She tells herself that it does not mean anything more than a bandage means to a wound. Who wears the bandage once the gash has healed? 

Where does she put the used bandage? 

Why is she focused on bandages?! She’s having an affair. It’s not an affair! (It is.) Alexia doesn’t… quite… wanttoadmititjustyet.

…

The buzz of your phone is the final push that gets you to conclude the current interview you are trapped in. Before checking what the notification is, you glance at the time. You have half an hour before you need to pick up Nico, and your parents said they would drop Elena home once they returned from London Zoo. 

Alexia: Jenni has had a really good idea 

It’s an intriguing text amongst the more practical ones that oil the mechanics of managing the distance. Tonight, Barcelona play their last match of the season. After this, she’ll be flying out to London. You have missed her. The last time you saw her in person was after Barcelona embarrassed Chelsea in Gothenburg. Elated and filled with pride, it was incredibly nice to have the biggest room in the hotel to yourselves. Her medal was almost as beautiful as her. 

You: Go on…

Alexia: Just draw a heart on Nico’s hand from me porfa. You’ll see. 

You slide into the driver’s seat of your newest self-indulgent car; a Porsche. Momentarily distracted by a camera flash, your turn onto the main road is a little risky, but you manage to make it to the school in time to collect your son. 

“Was he good?” you ask his teacher as she hands you Nico’s book bag. You take in the sight of him: hair messy, school uniform stained though they require the little ones to wear aprons for most of the day. “It’s a little different here. I’m hoping that he’s enjoying himself.” 

“Our new assistant is from Spain,” says the teacher with a small, tired smile, batting her long eyelashes at you. “We had to pry him off her.” 

You let out a laugh. “He misses his mum.” 

“He’s extremely intelligent. He knew to speak Spanish to her and English to us.” Though your grasp of Spanish is near-fluent after such reluctance from your wife to try English, you know that the two-year-old has a talent for juggling the three languages he is growing up around. You’re proud of him. “You shouldn’t worry about him. And, speaking of, we have a parents’ coffee morning just around the corner. It’s always great for the parents to get along – it helps the school feel even more like a family. Will it just be you attending?” Nico’s teacher is around your age, and you can smell her rose perfume that mingles with the soft hint of ready-mixed paint. She has deep, brown eyes, and she is definitely flirting with you. 

“Next week, right? I’ll have to check with my wife.” 

It’s then that a toddler-sized hand grips your fingers and tugs. “Mama, me voy,” he groans; something akin to Alexia’s impatience. It reminds you of when you used to go shopping and she’d herd you out with the threat of getting in the car and driving away. “Venga.” 

“One sec, sweetheart.” There are countless ways in which you miss Alexia. “My wife and I would love to come.” 

Her smile does not falter on her lips, but there is a greyish disappointment that dulls the warmth of her irises. You smile as you turn your back and lead Nico to the car. You are so excited for Alexia to complete the broken puzzle. 

You melt when she kisses the heart drawn onto her hand when celebrating her goal. Nico copies her, lips pursing and sloppily mimicking the action on a similar heart. “For you, sweetheart,” you tell him as he settles back into your side, careful not to jostle Elena who has fallen asleep on your chest (the therapist did wonders for you). 

“It was for you,” Jenni tells Alexia after the match. Her goal is now serving as the move Alexia feared she’d make. They have changed and been massaged and done the media the are required to do (women’s football is growing): they are free to roam Barcelona if they so wish. 

Her flight is tomorrow evening – “I have a flight tomorrow evening.” 

“Come over tonight.” It isn’t a question, yet it is not quite a command. Mapi passes the two of them, eyes narrowing at the way Jenni has wrapped her hand around Alexia’s wrist. The defender is aware that something is going on, though it breaks her heart to imagine Alexia ever doing that to you. Not knowing they are being watched, Alexia steps in; cups Jenni’s face, brushes her cheekbone with a stroke of her thumb Mapi knows is meant for her wife. Mapi’s stomach lurches. She feels sick. 

“I need to…” It’s not a ‘no’. “Jenni.” She hates that it is not a ‘no’. 

“Ale.” There’s a beat. Mapi blinks twice, shakes her head, and backs away. “I’ll miss you, you know?” 

… 

Jenni doesn’t seem to mind when, the next day, blurry pictures of you on a family outing make rounds through the tabloids she usually doesn’t read. The fact that, up until now, no one has known that your wife is Alexia Putellas has no effect on her. She was stupid for thinking the last six months meant something. Winning together, losing together. Sleeping together. 

In this deal, Alexia has fucked over both women who love her. Except, you don’t know. She hasn’t told you, though Jenni had hoped for it secretly – hoped Alexia chose her – and it is obvious. Obvious to Jenni, who is well acquainted with the blonde hair in the wings of your concert at the O2. Obvious to Jenni, who refuses to think of herself as the other woman. 

She consults Mapi. 

Mapi, who she has come to shamefully realise already knows. 

“I can’t believe the two of you.” The defender is clear in her distaste and disappointment and, honestly, her disgust. “But I am not going to be the one to break that poor girl’s heart.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” 

What is she asking? What does she want from this utterly useless conversation? 

“Mapi.” Jenni closes her eyes, but she sees two faces instead of darkness. Nico. Elena. She’s Elena’s godmother. You decided that – convinced Alexia to choose her best friend over her younger sister, told your wife that there’d be another for Alba to corrupt. “Mapi, I love her. I don’t know what to do.” 

“She loves her wife.” The next sentence proceeds to brutally remind Jenni who that isn’t. “Tell her you’re done. Find someone else. Anyone but her.” 

That is Jenni’s resolve, because she knows that Mapi is right. 

… 

June, July, and August pass with bliss. 

Everyone says that you are a beautiful couple with beautiful children. Alexia beams with pride as she flaunts her practised English, and gladly claims ownership of Nico when he wins a prize on speech day. Every child in Reception is awarded something but that doesn’t stop her from boasting.

She explores the country with the children while you shack up in the recording studio, and brings hugs and kisses (and Red Bull) every evening after dinner. The visits are what reminds you of the sun Alexia brings, especially as the warmth follows her from Barcelona and London is blessed with golden days. Dog days. 

“This isn’t permanent.” Alexia looks up from her phone, comfortable in your bed. The house in Highgate has flecks of Spain woven into the decor now, and you like it that way. 

You climb into the bed beside her, and her arm lifts so that you can snuggle into her chiselled stomach (wow, she has been working hard this season). “What’s Jenni saying?” you ask, following your statement and hoping you’ll get her attention. She presses her phone screen into the duvet before you can translate the message – it is too long of a paragraph for you to handle. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that this isn’t permanent.” 

Alexia, over the past few months, has been the most affectionate, loving, amazing person with the same smile and giggle you married. You thought she had disappeared and was replaced with stern, career-focused Alexia Putellas, jugadora del fútbol. You were wrong. 

“I’m thinking January is when we’ll come back. Nico’s English will survive.” Your parents are going travelling. They’ve never been on the Orient Express before. “I want to be with you.” 

It is a good thing Jenni has just broken up with her. 

“I love you,” you continue. “So much.” 

Alexia hums. Her heart breaks, and she does not know for whom. “¿En serio?” She is happy, she thinks. Certainly, she is glad that the four of you will be reunited. 

 You are. 

January 2022 ruins things for Jenni Hermoso. She calls Pachuca back. 

#barca femeni #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #fc barcelona #woso imagines #mapi leon #jenni hermoso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

[zorosbeau33]

Oi, you wanna die? Zoro x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble

❖ One Piece, Zoro x gender neutral reader

❖ Scenarios/Drabble, Established Relationship AU, Protective Boyfriend Zoro

❖ TRIGGER WARNING Unwanted advances from a third party, 18+ Only due to theme

❖ wc: 1706

❖ Prompt "You said no and they didn't listen how does your partner respond?" ❖ Masterlist ❖ Luffy Version

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you all enjoy~ A couple people had requested more of the crew so here is Zoro for a start! I wasn't quite sure where to go with it but I think this will suffice for now!

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The marines didn’t seem to notice things were amiss, then again none of them probably dared to imagine the legendary Straw Hat pirates would crash a military gala. Zoro himself fidgeted behind his mask, eye sweeping the room and numbering dozens of high ranking officials. This was definitely not his scene, stuffed into a black and sparkly prince costume with black jewel encrusted mask? Yeah not his style at all. The amount of men and women he’d shrugged off, or downright snubbed tonight in favor of finding more alcohol to drink was staggering. Not that he’d noticed, after one dance that he’d only done because Nami threatened him to do it to blend in long before they’d actually broken in. Flirtations were not his strong suit, and being a firm believer in no ending all advances he was disgusted when several people tried to laugh it off and continue in their attempts to touch him. 

All of this has culminated in the pursing of his lips as he tried not to sneer in disgust. Leaning against a pillar during a brief moment of quiet to himself Zoro once again scanned the room. It was beginning to unnerve him, sure he could see Nami fitting in without any issues wrapped in the arms of a high ranking admiral. Hell he could even see precious precocious prince Sanji with a line of women waiting to dance with him. That might come to bite them in the ass soon if the jealous glares of the womens husbands and wives said anything. However Zoro believed the cook would reap what he sowed and that it was none of his business. What nagged at him however was the evident lack of…you.

For three hours they had patrolled the floor and the garden, and yet you were no where to be found. A frown did manage to tug his lips downwards when he moved around a thick crowd of people and up the stairs. Yes, he should leave it be and concentrate on the mission of extracting all the information they could while Nami stole the key off the admiral and passed it along to Luffy, Robin and Brook. But the nagging sensation of you being missing for THIS long? Nothing normally could stir him to panic-reasonable panic. His captain falling in the water or slingshotting directly at his face was reasonable panic. This was not such a time, bubbles seemed to turn to knots in his gut. His scar itched. 

Halfway up the stairs he heard it, unable to hide his reaction as he perked up swinging his head around towards the sound of a familiar laugh. Zoro felt you before he saw you, Haki registering your presence far closer to him than he had anticipated. In fact there in the middle of the group of people he had been made to work around several times, stood your glorious form. Nami had outdone herself with your outfit and Zoro had almost swallowed his tongue on the ship when he first saw you. Now even more so under the glitter and glow of the chandeliers, your laugh made the tension melt from his muscles while he stopped his prowling to take you in. In this atmosphere you were radiant, seemingly to have been born out of the most beautiful emerald just to grace the presence of those around you. The jewel encrusted mask covering your face only added to the mystery around you, causing those around you to lean in all the closer. Perhaps you needed no savior, though Zoro felt it his first duty as the man that belonged to you. Swordsmiths above he was so smitten with you, lingering on the stairs above your group to watch you, scowl melting into a tender smile. He would have to apologize to Nami and Luffy later, his sword was supposed to belong to his captain then the mission. But here the only person he could allow claim to him was your radiance. A betrayal he was sure they would understand, it was common knowledge to all of the crew that his heart and soul had found their home in your hands. 

So imagine his rage when your smile fell away into a look of shock, yanking your arm back from the grips of a pot bellied slobbering ‘gentleman’. Capable like he knew you were, you quickly extricated yourself from the pudgy admiral who reeked of weaks old cheese and beer. The gaudy prince attire nearly popping buttons off as the heavy drinker puffed himself up indignantly. Zoro would miss the next few moments as he rushed down the staircase and began to force his way through the gasping and shocked onlookers who had until this moment been fawning over your intelligence and eloquent words. His fury was three fold for he knew how hard you had practiced to learn all these speech patterns and points of talk to be a good distraction as needed by the plan. However when the noise of a slap rang out he couldn’t help but bark a command for the people in front to move.

Being all of military standing or married into, they felt his haki and heard his commands and moved apart at once. Years of training telling even the higher ranks this must be someone  with power and the gravitas of higher station To do such a thing at the military gala. Relief infantesimally warmed his cold gaze, the sound of the slap had in fact come from your strike and not the admirals. Zoro knew this man too well, he’d bought and blustered his way up to the position he was in now, and falling out of graces with Akainu’s strength based rule had resorted to underhanded trickery and binge drinking. 

“Once a sleeze ball always a sleezeball.” scoffed someone in the crowd as a woman pulled you closer to herself and away from the enraged man before you. Bits of wien splattered down his front as he spluttered and clutched his hand to his chest, beer belly nearly busting his gaudy belt buckle. 

“Admiral he started it! They told him no and he tried to force it! Should we court marshal him?” A young Captain stepped forward to report to Zoro, also taking on a defensive stance in front of you. To your credit you were playing the distressed and meak house spouse very well, although he knew just from looking your strike had most probably broken at least two of the mans meaty fingers. Thankfully it seemed his display had caused others to believe him to be an important military official rather than raise suspicion about his person. Zoro gathered himself together, he couldn’t afford to make too much of a scene here. While everyones masks and disguises made the party much safer for them to intervene. They did not need to draw to many eyes upon themselves or else the costumed Zoro’s in the crowd might jog someones mind to realize the real one was standing in front of them. After that it would only be a matter of minutes before the others would get picked out from the crowd as well. 

He needed to protect you, but in a way that would seem appropriate and take attention off of you both and quickly. Squaring his shoulders Zoro tutted and switched all his weight to his right foot, arm resting on the hilt of his single sword. Adapting the posture of a haughty admiral was not difficult it often amused him when he was a bounty hunter to see all of their posturing, the arrogance was easy to emulate. A flick of the hand had several people stepping forward seizing the admirals wrists and forcing them behind him. 

“This is a party, I advise you keep your voice down before I report your misdeeds to headquarters directly…” His deep voice rumbled and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Take him out of here without a scene, knock him out if you have to. The part-the gala is a place only those of high standing are allowed. Such behavior will not be tolerated, have him placed on trial…tomorrow morning he can sit in the cells for tonight.” 

The man bellowed his outrage, stating his rank and to unhand him right this moment. In an instant Zoro’s hand was around his skull, and squeezing. Rage turned into pain and he gasped spluttering in pain, the captains almost dropping him in shock at the speed of Zoro’s moves. 

“OI…do you wanna die?” Zoro growled lowly so only he and the two captains could hear. They froze and stared in shock and fear. The rage he had felt upon seeing the man place his hand on you without your consent, causing his pupils to dilate. Haki spreading over his fingertips hidden only by the gloves that accented his outfit. Blood pounding in his ears, ready to lay this man to sleep for his crime. The smell of the admiral wetting himself hardly registering to his senses, how dare this scum…Barely reeling himself in Zoro leaned back out and let him go. “You already placed your hands on my partner and now you disgrace this place. Get him out of our sight.” 

Turning quickly on his heel Zoro took his handkerchief out and wiped the makeup from the admiral off his fingers in a show of disgust. Reeling in his rage before stopping in front of you again, thanking the woman in a low murmur as he took you from her grip. People bowed and scuttled out of his way while he hurriedly guided you away to the gardens, arm wrapped securely around your waist. Once in the open air he sighed in relief and slowed down checking on you now as he readied himself for Nami to beat him over the head once you returned to the ship. Yes you could have defended yourself, and you certainly had but he would always be here to ensure that you would be okay. Even if you teased him for his bad acting skills for the rest of his life, you being safe and your boundaries being respected were far more than worth it in his mind.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x gender neutral reader #one piece scenarios #one piece writing prompt #zoro x reader #zoro x gender neutral reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x gender neutral reader #boyfriend zoro #boyfriend zoro x reader #boyfriend zoro x gender neutral reader #zoro scenario #zoro x you #boyfriend zoro drabble #zoro drabble #zoro imagine #boyfriend zoro imagine #one piece drabble #one piece imagines #one piece boyfriend drabble

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Behavioral Lessons - King Ben x Reader

Summary: You push Ben's buttons too far

Words: 5.3K

Inspired by a section from my Dating Ben Would Include. Ben didn't lose his beard or fangs in this guys. He just didnt. So with that, he might just have some other… beast like qualities. (im so sorry i went rouge)

Link to photo of the dress, but if you hate it, just ignore when the dress is described and picture whatever you want to be wearing!

Warnings: Smut, uhhhh, thigh riding, a bit of edging, choking bro im not well at ALL for doing this to poor mitchell, not proofed

Edit: oh god. yall this is so dirty. i didnt mean to make ben a degrader but here we are... I’m sorry if I ruin this franchise for you rip i ruined it for myself

You had to take matters into your own hands. You hadn't seen Ben in weeks. And when you had, it wasn't for more than a few minutes when you passed each other in the corridors of the castle. He hadn't even been returning to your shared room at night, sleeping in his office instead. You were growing restless without your fiancé.

Since you were both twenty-one, your wedding was coming up. With the nearing celebrations on top of his usual king duties, Ben had been more stressed than usual, which is why you hadn't seen him recently.

So naturally, you just had to take matters into your own hands. You knew the way to help your fiancé was to help him relieve his stress, and you knew just how to push him to get there.

Every Friday night, you sat down with Ben and his parents for dinner. But this Friday was special. Not only were his parents going to be there, but so were your friends. It was the final Friday before your wedding and it would be the most you've seen of him in weeks so you were looking forward to it. And what was to come afterward.

...

You kept the dress hidden for months. It was strapless and fell mid-thigh. The body of the dress was a pale yellow, the outer layer was a sparkly floral pink fabric, and the bodice had tiny bows up the front. Evie had designed it for you and was standing in front of you now.

"Oh. My. God. I don't think I've ever made anything better. You look incredible. Ben is gonna go craaaa-zyyyyy." She was gushing over you, shoving a pair of gold shoes into your hands. "Now put these on, and then let's get to that dinner.

You looked at yourself in the mirror absolutely mesmerized at your reflection. Your legs looked incredibly long with the length of the dress paired with the heels. Dizzy had so graciously styled your hair, a simple updo, but with your small tiara on your head, it was perfect. You smiled at yourself, bringing your hand to your neck where a small, gold, necklace with the letter "B" sat.

...

You were giddy with anticipation, ready to see Ben, ready for him to see you. You entered the large dining hall, filled with your friends from the Isle and Auradon. Belle was at your side immediately, looking beautiful as always.

"Y/N! Sweetie! You look lovely!" The small woman hugged you. "I am so looking forward to you and Ben's wedding next week. It is going to be beautiful!" You smiled at her.

"Thank you! I'm excited about it too. Ben is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to be marrying him." Then, Lumiere announced that dinner had been served and as you turned to go to your seat, Ben was behind you.

"Hi." He was giving you the smile that made your stomach flutter with butterflies. His hands were on your waist almost instantly, bringing your body closer to his. He looked perfect, would you expect anything different? The blue suit with the golden crown was a look you'd never get tired of.

"Hello." You smiled back at him as he kissed you for the first time in weeks. You broke it first, knowing that people were most definitely watching you and that you needed to leave him wanting more.

As you walked to your places at the table, Ben whispered in your ear...

"You look incredible, Y/n." You flushed at the compliment and at the way his voice sounded when he said your name.

You sit next to him, the chairs closer together than normal with the new amount of people. The plan was in full motion now.

The feast was grand, as it usually was, but before it began, Ben rose to give a toast.

"Thank you all for joining Y/N and me," He gestured for you to stand and join him. His arm wrapped around you instantly. "In our final feast before our wedding." He turned to you, his beautiful smile returning again. "I can't speak for my beautiful fiancé, but I am so happy that our closest friends and family were able to join us tonight." You spoke before he could go on.

"I am also very happy you are here!" The hall erupted in a chorus of laughs and Ben squeezed your side.

"I'm so honored to be marrying such a wonderful person. I cannot wait to share the rest of my life with you.” You smiled at him as he bent down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He whispers, "I love you." and then he pulls away to continue. “Alright, I’m sure you all want to eat, so I won't bore you with my love speech any longer."

...

As everyone else ate, you counted the minutes until you could begin your plan. You didn't want to start it too early or too late. You had to wait for the right time. Ben was such an attentive fiancé that he had noticed your behavior.

"Honey?" You were startled at his voice in your ear again. "Are you feeling ok?" You turned to him, noticing that he was looking down at your chest, blushing when he looked back up. You shifted at the sight of his tongue running over the tips of his fangs.

Now. It was time for your plan.

You set your hand on his upper thigh, leaning over to whisper into his ear.

"I guess I'm just hungry for something else..." You ran your hand up further before you were stopped by him. You looked down at his hand grasping your wrist, right above the seam of his pants.

"Y/N." His usually sweet voice was stern. You set your face with a smirk but innocent eyes, looking up at him. His jaw was clenched but you could tell you were getting somewhere. His skin was dusted pink and his pupils had dilated. "What are you doing?" You reached your fingers to brush against the fabric of his pants and he snarled, his grip on your wrist tightening.

"Ben!" His father interrupted and he swallowed, squeezing your wrist once more.

“Stop if you know what’s good for you.” His words were low and then he turned to his father who was across the table. You took this moment to shake yourself from him, turning to the former king, before placing your hand back onto his pants.

Ben jerked, trying to keep his composure in front of his parents and friends, but how could he when you were teasing him like this? In order to not draw attention to himself, he kept both hands on the table.

"Son, are you ok?" Ben eyed you, giving you a glare that only spurred you on further. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"I'm fine." He continued his conversation with his father, talking about God knows what, as you continued to tease him. You were half listening to Ben and Adam and the other half of your brain was only thinking of making Ben as flustered as possible, so you ran your hand over the growing tent in his suit pants. You could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure, his breathing had gone uneven, his face was red, and he kept glancing at the big grandfather clock behind his father's chair.

You smiled, gave his clothed member a squeeze, and withdrew your hand, reaching for a large piece of chocolate cake. You looked over at Ben, his eyes narrowed on you as you brought a bite to your mouth. His slip in composure was glorious and you winked at him as you brought a bite of cake to your lips.

You almost choked on the cake as his hand slid onto your thigh, just past your dress, fingers skimming the soft lace of your underwear, already wet from your actions and your thoughts of the night to come.

"So needy that you've resulted to disobeying your King? How pathetic." His lips grazed over the skin under your ear before he leaned back to look at you.

Your thighs squeezed against his hand involuntarily and it was his turn to smirk. He regained his composure, returning to “normal” Ben, now free from your teasing.

You, however could barely eat your dessert with his hand pressed between your legs.

“Regretting our actions are we?” He whispered to you as his engagement ring slid over your core. You covered the gasp with a cough. “That’s what I thought.”

...

The second dinner had ended, Ben's arm was around your waist. As the two of you neared the doors of the large hall, his name was called.

His dad and Lumiere were behind you.

"Your Majesty, your father and I have been talking and there are a few things we wanted to go over for palace security during the ceremony. If you come with us, it won't take very long." Ben's face was completely normal as he gave Lumiere a nod before turning to face you.

He plastered on his King Ben smile, brushing his hand against your cheek, bringing your lips to his, but he didn't kiss you.

"I hope you know, I'm not going to be nice tonight." His lips were on yours for mere seconds before he stepped back, running his tongue over his fangs once again. Then, he turned back to Adam and Lumiere, leaving you in the dining hall, thoughts running wild about what was to happen to you that night.

...

You called Evie as soon as you got back to your and Ben's bedroom.

"Do I keep the dress on? Or do I wear something else?" You were frantic, walking around the closet, not knowing what to do.

"Girl! Calm down!" You had told her what had happened and she was so excited she practically screamed. "If I were you, I would put on one of his dress shirts. He won't be expecting it when he comes in to punish-"

"Oh my GOD, EVIE!" The laughter on the phone was enough to make you roll your eyes. "Thanks for your help." You grumbled.

"Let me know how it goes!" Before you could reply, she hung up. You set your phone down and grabbed one of Ben's white dress shirts along with a simple, white lace lingerie set from a drawer.

Slipping the dress off, you carefully put it on a hanger and set it in your closet. You slid the shirt on, buttoning it up, leaving it open just enough to see the bra you had just put on. You began to take out your hair, setting the crown down on your vanity counter, and removing the pins holding the updo in place. Finally, you applied a bit of lipgloss and a spritz or two of Ben's favorite perfume before climbing onto your shared king-sized bed.

...

Thirteen minutes later, not that you had counted, the bedroom door burst open, and in walked your fiancé. His eyes locked on your body as he removed his suit jacket. You knew he was waiting for you to look at him, so you obliged, looking up from the random book you had picked up, you really weren't reading it anyway. He was glaring at you as his hand loosened his tie and removed it. You tried your best to look at him with the most innocent eyes you could and he chuckled.

You watched as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of the white shirt and rolled the sleeves up to his forearms. When you looked back into his eyes, they were almost black.

"Did you have a good time at the dinner, my dear? Did you enjoy yourself?" His hands were placed on the bed so he was leaning down. His tone was condescending, which sent shivers down your spine. He was always so sincere. This new side to Ben was intoxicating.

“Answer your King when he speaks to you.”

If he noticed your eyes widening in shock, he didn’t acknowledge it. He was unmoving, his eyes challenging you, taunting you.

“I’m not going to ask again.” You didn’t know how to respond, so you nodded.

Ben chuckled again, his fangs on display. Any sight of them made your heart race and he knew it.

“No, honey. Use your words.” His voice lowered. “Or do you want to disobey me again?”

“Yes, I enjoyed dinner.” Your voice was small but you held your ground, not breaking eye contact. You challenged him back. “Did you enjoy dinner, Ben?” A dark look crossed his face.

“Why don’t you try saying that again, using my correct title?” You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, but you had to admit, you liked this side of him.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight…” You sat up from the headboard, leaning towards him, and bowed your head. Then, looking up at him through your lashes added, “…my King?”

His eyes narrowed again and his hands wrapped around your ankles, tugging you to the end of the bed. He settled his knee between your legs, brushing your clothed core on purpose, but not acknowledging it. His hands settled by your head and he hovered over you.

“No.” He dug his knee into you harder and you threw your head back, exposing your neck to him as you moaned. “No, I didn’t.” You felt his finger slide down the column of your throat before hooking itself around your necklace laced with his initial. He leaned down, mouth hovering over the pulse point in your neck. “My bratty fiancé couldn’t keep her hands to herself.”

His teeth ran down your neck and goosebumps erupted at the sharpness of the canines. “You haven’t touched your bratty fiancé in weeks.” He tugged on your necklace and your eyes found his again.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Now that was a surprise.

Though he got stressed fairly often, he never used vulgar language. You had heard him say “damnit” once after losing a Tourney game in high school, but that was it.

Suddenly, you felt your body flush at his outburst. You didn’t reply, too shocked to say anything.

Ben smiled, but it wasn’t his good King Benjamin smile.

This smile was positively wicked.

“I believe I asked you a question, Y/N.” The fingers hooked on the chain around your neck now rested softly on your throat.

Holy shit.

“Yes.” The words were almost inaudible.

“M’sorry… what was that?”

“Yes.” You spoke clearly now.

He snickered.

“That’s now how you properly answer a question, now is it? Let me ask again.” His fingers tightened slightly. “Do you want your King to fuck you?” The word rolled off of his tongue like honey and your hips rolled into his knee.

“Yes, I want you to…” His eyebrow went up. “…fuck me.” His fingers withdrew from your throat.

“Hmm.” Suddenly he was standing up, leaving you on the bed, catching your breath. “I don’t think you’ve earned it.”

You watched with wide eyes as he sat down at your vainity in the corner of the room. He looked so casually regal. His crown, the unbuttoned shirt, his crisp blue slacks. But there was some other air about him that was making you crumble in his hands. The way he was man spreading, his long legs awaiting as your own throne. His beard and sharp fangs you were aching to feel between your thighs. Your toes curled at the thought.

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you honey?” The mean tone from before had returned. “You’re thinking about me fucking you?” Your face flushed so much you were sure it went down your whole body. You quickly realized he’d asked you another question.

“Y-Yes. I am thinking about that.” Your snarkiness from before was long-gone. He gave you another wicked smile. His picked up your crown, which was much smaller than his since your coronation would happen after the wedding.

“Well, are you going to sit there all night or are you going to come finish what you started at dinner?” You got up from the bed immediately crossing to where he sat. His fingers wrapped around your necklace again, tugging you to his level. Your knees hit the floor, hands on his thighs while he brushes your hair from your face. He tilts your chin up to meet your eyes.

His hand retracts while he takes you in. On your knees in front of him, wearing one of his shirts and dear God, the white lace of your bra peeking out at him was making his head spin.

No longer having self-restraint, Ben’s lips lock on yours. You moan into his mouth as his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you to sit in his lap. He growls into the kiss as you grind your hips into his.

Finally. You thought to yourself. Ben’s control over his respectful manner had cracked a little but your goal was to break through it completely. And you knew by his bruising grip on your hips that you were on the right track.

Then suddenly, Ben wasn’t touching you anymore. Your body was left heaving on top of his while he leaned back in the chair, resting his elbows on the armrests.

“Go on.” You stated wide-eyed at him. “I’m not going to do all the work here, honey.” Your face flushed as you looked to his crotch, the tented fabric strained. “You did this…” His hand grabbed yours, setting it back onto his pants. “…so do something about it.”

Slowly, you began to move your fingers and Ben’s eyes narrowed.

“You and I both know you can do better than that.” His hand found it’s way back up to your throat. “Don’t you want to please your King?”

Dear GOD where had this side of him come from? He shifted the slightest bit so his pants ran against you.

“Ben!” Your eyes squeezed shut, brain foggy with him.

“Are you really making me wait?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as yours shifted to where your shaking hands were now trying to undo his belt buckle.

As you worked to free him from his pants, Ben’s hands found their way back to your hips, slowly pushing up the fabric of his dress shirt so he could see what was lying underneath.

His mouth almost watered as the white lace was brought into view. He licked his lips at what the fabric was trying in vain at hiding.

Ben had to remind himself that you were not being rewarded now. That you’d disobeyed him at dinner and now was not the time to be relishing in how lovely you were.

He was brought out of his thoughts as your hand slid into his boxers.

He threw his head back and muttered a barely audible,

“Fuck.”

As your fingers wrapped around him, timidly moving up and down.

He looked at you, so focused on what you were doing, so desperate to make him feel good, needing to hear his words of praise. Ben guided you to straddle one leg as he began to rock his hips into your hand.

You were so trained on pleasing your fiancé, that you hadn’t even noticed that you’d begun grinding on his thigh.

Ben had noticed. He watched as your breathing became more rapid and how your strokes became less careful. You looked up, meeting his gaze, sucking in a breath at the primal look in his eyes.

His eyes flashed with pleasure as your thumb ran over the tip of his cock. His fingers stopped your hips and he said,

“Stop.” Right as you were about to come. You did as you were told but you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the lack of sensation.

Ben rolled his eyes, the hands on your hips forcing you to grind into his leg once again. You moan, tossing your head back to avoid looking at him. The fucker was edging you.

“So Goddamn needy.” His hot touch on your skin was gone and you had to steady your breathing before looking at him again.

Ben had begun to unbutton the rest of your shirt, pushing it off of your shoulders once it was fully undone. He shamelessly raked his eyes over your body, grinning that evil grin as he did so.

Then, his hands were under your bottom, picking you up before setting you down on the bed.

“Are you going to behave now?” The dampening of your underwear at his words is embarrassing. Ben’s thumbs skim over your abdomen, right on the waistband of your underwear. Ben doesn’t break eye contact with you, smiling once again. He looks hot as hell, his fangs and the beard along with his crown.

Was he going to fuck you while wearing his crown? God you hoped so.

“Honey?” Ben lowered to his knees, fingers now on the sides of the lace fabric. You instinctively close your legs but Ben’s strong hands are there instantly, forcing them back open.

Embarrassment floods your system as you watch him look down, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face before his eyes return to yours.

“Keep them open.” His fingers dance dangerously close to the damp lace. “Answer my question, please.”

He’s so close that you can feel his breath fanning your core.

“Yes, Ben. Fuck! I’ll behave.” He kisses your inner thighs which are now practically shaking in his grasp. His mouth moves to your hips, right where your waistband is.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“What?” You sound breathless.

He looks directly into your eyes.

“I’ve been able to smell you this entire time.”

You’re too late to react as Ben rips through the white lace with his teeth. His hands are keeping your thighs to the side and he looks at you for a moment: A shaking little mess before him, your cunt dripping and clenching around nothing. You watch as he smiles again, bracing yourself for the contact of his tongue, lips, and teeth.

His tongue licks your glistening cunt from the bottom up twice and your hand clamps over your mouth when his lips wrap around your aching clit.

And then.

Oh, fuck.

You’d forgotten about his facial hair.

The delicious roughness contrasting with his sweet mouth made the pleasure skyrocket.

Ben loved the taste of you. He was never able to get enough. So anytime he went down on you, he took all he could get. He moaned at the taste of you, the vibrations going straight through you.

Your hips lifted off of the bed as one of his hands moved off of your thigh and a thumb pressed hard against your swollen clit. At the same time, Ben bit into the soft skin of your thighs, marking his territory. He repeated his actions on the other side, now rolling your clit between his fingers.

If you weren’t covering your mouth, you were sure the whole castle would be able to hear you.

Ben’s mouth returned and you let out a scream as his teeth bit your clit gently. He let his tongue swirl around it as his thumb ran down your slit, parting your folds, exposing more of you to the cool air. He moved the slightest bit and the roughness of his mustache brushed against your clit, sending you into your awaiting orgasm.

Ben continued devouring you through it, eating you out like a beast, already wanting to get another one out of you like this. He looked up at you, realizing he hadn’t been able to hear you, eyes narrowing once again at the hand over your mouth. Your hips rocked again as he slid his middle finger into you easily but then he stopped all of his actions.

Your grown was muffled but one look from Ben and your hand fell to the side.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of being too loud…” his finger curled inside you and you let out a loud moan, a blush settling over your cheeks instantly. “…because I don’t care if anyone hears. They’ll know how good the king is fucking you, right?” His mouth was on yours again, finger pushing in and out of you slowly. Your hips jerk up and you moan into his mouth, making him smile into yours.

Ben pulls away, making you groan in frustration. As you sit up on your elbows, you watch as Ben steps away from the bed to undress and you know he's doing it slowly on purpose.

"Ben-"

“Shut up. You brought this on yourself, honey.”

Once again, your cheeks heat. His harsh glare makes your heart pound.

His eyes tear away from yours as he finishes undressing. Yours close, waiting for what's next half in anxiousness, half in eagerness. His warm hand on your knee snaps you out of your thoughts.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip before he brings it between his teeth. He pulls your body down and steps between your legs. Ben's hand settles on your neck again, smirking at the feeling of your racing pulse.

"Don't tell me you're nervous, sweetheart." You take a deep breath before looking into his eyes with a smirk of your own.

"Why would I be nervous if this is what I wanted?" His jaw sets as the smirk disappears.

And then under his breath,

"Such a fucking brat." Before his hand fully wraps around your throat as he brings his lips to yours.

Your hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders pulling him down on top of you.

You pull away when Ben bites your lip, tasting blood.

"Benjamin!"

His smirk is back.

"Oh, so you're using my full name now. I thought this is what you wanted." You glare at him as you run your tongue along the bite. His head dips as he kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip. You are so enthralled with the feeling of his mouth on yours, you don't register what else he is doing until you feel the head of his cock pushing into you.

You act on instinct, pushing your hips into him but he pulls away.

"Don't be impatient. That stunt you played at dinner was cute and all but-"

"You thought it was cute?" You pout. "I thought you were going to punish me for it, my King."

With that, Ben pushes into you the rest of the way, wrapping his hand around your throat again, silencing any moan trying to escape.

"You were saying?" Your pelvic muscles clench around him which spurs him on further. "What's the matter, my love?" He pulls out of you and puts the slightest bit of pressure on your throat. "You want me to punish you?" He leans in to kiss you again but stops centimeters from your lips. "You asked for it."

Ben kisses you once again, hands now on your hip bones as his hips roll into yours at a brutal pace. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as he does the dirty work.

Your nails dig into his skin as you near your orgasm, pulling away from his lips as you struggle to catch your breath. Then suddenly, Ben stills inside of you and laughs as you whine.

"Would you like me to keep going?" You nod, although you know he will continue to fuck with you. "Really?" His lips find your neck again, kissing the spot beneath your ear. He grins against your skin at your whine. "Alright."

Ben begins to move ever-so-slowly. Annoyed, you begin to roll your hips into his but he is quick to stop you. His hands press your hips deep into the bed, forcing your movements to stop.

"Ben..." You trail off, eyes closing as Ben continues. He leans back, his beautiful smile gracing his face.

He gradually picks up speed, every movement into you brings you closer to the brink but Ben knows your body well. He's memorized your body and the ways it reacts to his. He knows that when you throw your head backward and try to cover your mouth to subdue the noises you're making that you're close. That's when he knows to stop.

"Fuck, Ben, please." He leans over you again, his beautiful smile still plastered on his beautiful face.

"Please what?" He has the audacity to rub soothing circles on your skin.

"Damnnit Ben." Your eyes are squeezed shut, unable to look him in the eyes. Ben leans over more, his lips brushing against yours.

"Please what, honey?" Your eyes open and narrow at him.

"I already asked Ben..." He chuckles.

"And I'm asking again." He raises his eyebrows. "Now unless you'd like me to," his hips roll again, "continue with your punishment, I suggest you use your words and answer my question."

"Benjamin," You pause briefly, waiting to see if he will stop you and make you use his title, but he doesn't. "Please, please, fuck me."

Ben smirks, making him impossibly more attractive.

"That's all you had to say." His hands grab your thighs, wrapping them around his waist before turning his smirk into a grin.

He moves again and it is glorious. Ben does all the work, which is fine for you because you're too enthralled with the pleasure to do anything about it. His hands tighten on your legs and pull you to him, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. His pace is brutal, fingers most definitely leaving bruises in their wake.

Instead of covering your mouth, your hands wander up his arms and pull him down to you again before resting on his broad shoulders. His crown glints in the light and your eyes roll at the sight. His hand leaves your thigh and reaches between your bodies to pinch your clit. To cover your moan, you pull his lips to yours, releasing it into his mouth. Ben smiles in return, rolling your clit between his fingers.

You break the kiss, gasping for air as your head is thrown back, He takes the opportunity to attack your neck again, his teeth gently biting at the soft skin.

His hips slam into yours once again and it pushes you over the edge. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body going limp in his arms.

Ben follows not far behind, groaning into your neck.

"Fuck."

After the two of you calm down, he pushes himself back, looking down at you.

"I'm sorry if I went a little overboard. I just-"

"Ben..."

"No seriously I-" You cut him off.

"Benjamin shut up." His eyes widen. You look up at him, a small smile on your lips. He watches with wide eyes as you push yourself up to sit under him. His smirk returns as you wince at the soreness he left you.

"Did you just tell me to-" You cut him off with a kiss, hands pulling his face to yours.

You break away from him and his eyes are wide.

"Ben, if you had gone overboard I would have told you." You kiss him again. "Besides, it's what I wanted." His eyes narrow.

"What?" You giggle, squishing his cheeks together before his hands wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands down. "Y/N, what did you just say?" You fall back onto the bed, laughing.

"I had this whole thing planned out, Bennie Boo." His eyes roll at his ex-girlfriend's nickname for him. "You were stressed and we hadn't..."

"Fucked?" He finishes for you.

"...in weeks, so I put this plan together to help you relieve your stress and so we could..." It's Ben's turn to grin.

"Say it."

"Make me."

His smile drops.

"Oh, you're asking for it now, sweetie." His lips were on yours before you could even think of a clever response.

I'M BACK!!!

bro ive literally been working on this for like 3 months.

:) ENJOY

#ben florian #ben florian smut #king ben x reader #ben descendants smut #king ben #ben florian x reader #descendants king ben #king Ben Florian #king Ben smut #descendants #ben descendants

[hotdogdynamitezzz]

Your Fashion and Style Guide

Pt.1

Part 2 (Libra - Pisces) Here

Use your Rising & Venus sign!

Aries:

Prioritizes comfort but doesn't compromise for their fashion style

Absolutely rocks streetwear & athleisure

Prefers sporty fits the most!

Looks best in red & black clothing

Their style always has some sort of edge to it

Big on grunge and vintage rockband t shirts

They love combat boots and they generally prefer flame or camo print clothes

This sounds odd but they kinda remind me of a racecar aesthetic?

Very Sharp with their fashion choices

They look great in leather jackets

A bold colour paired with a neutral for a high contrast look suit them best

They love the rockstar or baddie aesthetic

Looks ~

Taurus:

They have three modes, classy bitches, edgy e-girls & bohemian botanical.

But generally, I see classy and soft the most

Green, Brown, Beige, White, Black, Pink & Red for sensuality.

They love wearing neutrals but they often mix it up with some colour now and again

They usually have some sort of special necklace

A fan of pearls because it's classic

But diamonds are their best friends too ofc

Fuzzy & Fluffy cardigans or sweaters have their heart, especially the white and brown colours

They are into floral and flannel patterns

Their favorite colour options are brown & pink or white & pink 🕊💕

They usually dress more modest but make it look high fashion

They usually like to incorporate silk or a corset into their outfit, being ruled by venus makes them into a sensual and seductive look

Generally they favour comfortable fabrics and silk

Looks ~

Gemini:

I noticed they don't really like dark colours and generally prefer brighter neutrals or colours

They like off-the-shoulder, cold shoulder, cutout tops & cool designs on their shirts whether its long sleeve or not

They choose tops based on the arm style such as balloon sleeves or cutouts

Asymmetrical styles suit them best

Colors are white, bright pinks, and green.

Earrings & Bracelets are their favorite accessories

They like a fairy aesthetic, something that feels whimsical

Likes to switch between feminine and masculine clothing frequently

Very experimental with their clothes

Looks ~

Cancer:

Either soft and girly or moody and dark!

They prefer to keep it modest unless showing off their chest

Their choice of jewelry are pearl necklaces

The shoes they tend to favour are chunky block heels & sandals

Prefers blue, pink & white or black

Soft and flowy clothes like cardigans or kimonos

Knee high socks + sweater dresses look great

They love sweetheart necklines

Into crop tops! Usually silk crops

They like to pair tight clothes with a flowy jacket! Especially if it has a pop of colour

Overall style changes depending on how they're feeling that day

Looks ~

Leo:

Everytime I looked up a Leo rising celebrity that were ALWAYS wearing sunglasses

A fan of sunhats too!

Anything bright & metallic suit them perfectly

They look lavish in silky and shiny materials

They tend to wear fur coats

They like long and sturdy coats in general!

Usually they own big statement jewelry

Everything looks shiny tbh especially their hair.

Sparkly clothes & sequins are their weakness

They could rock sundresses

They look great in animal print, specifically cheetah or leopard.

Bold fashion is their go-to

Even if they wear neutral colours they make sure the texture stands out

Jumpsuits were really popular among them! I think they like to look playful but glamorous at the same time

They will not leave the house unless they look ready for a fashion show lol

Their motive is to standout and turn heads.

Looks ~

Virgo:

Less is more for them

They like simple t-shirts with cute mottos like "be kind" or some shit that HAS to be written in small font or they won't wear it LOL

A Preppy Style & Sweater Vests are their thing

So is gingham print

They rock high-fashion looks

Fake glasses are a cute trend they look good in

A big fan of trench coats and cardigans

They prefer a business casual look

They prefer earthy tones & greens.

They are all about the simplicity in versatility! For instance they usually like black jeans and a white top but the top can be a tube top or a halter top based on what they want that day

They LOVE BLAZERS

Very picky about fashion, I find super bright colors often turn them away

Quality > Quantity for them

A lot of them look great in crop tops, or waist accentuating clothing like kim k is known for

Watches are usually a staple item they prefer

Looks ~

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #astro notes #astroblr #astrology notes #astro community #aquarius #zodiac #zodiac signs #astro thoughts #astrology blog #astro observation #astrology observation #astrology opinions #astro note #astrology note #astro chart #natal chart #birth chart readings #birth chart #horoscopes #horoscope #12 signs #zodiac wheel #leo #gemini #virgo #aries #taurus

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  DOWN BY THE SEASIDE

SUMMARY : sunshine and sunny beaches. Dean’s always talking about the beach, toes in the sand… a couple of those little umbrella drinks… her, in a sexy bikini.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), hating the beach (I hate the beach), fluff, p in v, innuendos, love making, slow sex

WORD COUNT : 3.5k

A/N : led zeppelin song title. too many thoughts, not enough time to write them all out, but… 🏝️🏖️⛱️🌊☀️🐚  I wrote this first. xxxxxx

She padded her way out of the warmth of the house in search of Dean, barefoot. Sand crunched beneath her feet, painless, but irritating prickles against her skin—grains sticking to her, hard to remove completely. 

The wind was still compared to how it had been at midday. Only a cool breeze remained, causing goosebumps to grow over her skin. She tightened the wool blanket around her bikini-clad body. She brought it with the intention of covering Dean up once she got to him. 

The sky began to turn dark, a darkish blue pushed the orange hue away. The sun looked like a sunny-side-up egg resting on the blue horizon, the orange hue that spread across acting like the runny insides of the yolk. 

It was time for dinner. 

After lunch, and after walking Miracle, Dean announced he’d be enjoying a drink while reading a book outside. Much to Sam’s, Cas’, but especially her disappointment. 

That was five hours ago. 

She’d checked in on him through text while she joined Cas and Sam for a little tour. Dean called her when he took a break from reading to play with Miracle. They even did a video call for a few minutes before they reluctantly hung up. 

It was the first day that they had separated in all their time there. Dean wanted to relax, and while she longed to sit by him while quietly doing something herself, she didn’t want to miss the opportunity of getting something special for him. 

Sam had gone for a shower to wash away the sweat and sand from their adventure, and Cas was entertaining Miracle while he waited for his turn. 

Cas took things slowly now. He said so. It was cute to see the angel dressed so… casually. It felt… almost intimate to see him out of that trench coat and that suit, showing a bit of his naturally sun-kissed skin. 

Him and Sam bickered—naturally. It was good natured banter, and it was very funny to watch. Cas didn’t hold his tongue, and that dry humour of his made her cheeks burn from smiling and her stomach ache from laughter. 

She finally got to Dean who was fast asleep, and laying down on a pink and white beach lounger with a book open across his chest, the pages facing down. George R. R. Martin. A Feast for Crows. He was catching up. 

She smiled down at him lovingly and extended her hand to brush away stray hairs from his forehead. He looked beautiful in the orange sunlight, his skin glowing like the sparkly surface of the sea. He snored softly and her smile widened. She trailed her fingers down his cheek, his jawline, and pulled away to remove the book from his chest. 

She placed the heavy book over the crunchy bags, cringing at the loudness of it as the book squashed them. 

She covered him with the blanket she had wrapped around herself, distracted by abandoned, empty bags of Cheetos and gummy rings on a small table beside him, a curvy glass filled with watery, blue liquid, and a yellow cocktail umbrella. She eyed them with amusement as she gently tucked the blanket around Dean’s body—as best as she could without waking him. 

Dean wiggled a little beneath the thick blanket, snuggling into the soft wool, stubbly cheek audibly scratching against it. She froze above him, her lips pressing together anxiously, and she pulled her hands away from him just in case. 

Her eyes softened. He was so cute. 

Dean ended up stirring awake anyway, with a smack of his lips. He breathed in deeply, then groaned, his eyes fluttering open. She quickly pulled away so she wouldn’t scare him, but she relaxed when he smiled softly. He looked at her lazily, his eyes half-open.

“You’re here,” he mumbled, clumsily stretching his hand up and out for her to take. Her smile softened.

“Yeah.” She took his hand, smoothing her fingertips against his calloused palm, slipping her fingers through his. “How was your day, baby? You hungry?” She asked, watching him shut his eyes once more, and bring his hand down against his stomach.

A hum rumbled deeply through Dean’s chest. “Good. Missed you,” he whispered, “I’m pretty, uh… hungry, yeah…” he trailed off sleepily, pulling on her hand to bring it to his lips. 

“I missed you, too,” she murmured, a hot flush rising up her face at the sensation of chapped, warm lips pressing against the back of her hand. “Wanna choose what we eat today?” Dean opened his eyes and puckered his lips thoughtfully, which only drew a tiny laugh from her. 

“Can’t think, so sleepy,” he whined playfully, leaning over the beach lounger to look down at her feet. She playfully curled her toes into the sand, collecting a bunch of grains in her feet, wiggling her toes, the sand rubbing between her toes making a little swishy crunch. “No shoes,” he stated with a bemused expression. 

She shrugged, “you like sand.” 

Dean tilted his head and stared up at her. She did the same—in the opposite direction, nearly becoming sleepy herself with the gentle caress of his fingers against her hand. “You hate sand,” he pointed out with a smug smile. 

She gave in easily. 

“Ugh, I do. It gets everywhere. Even after I shower, I find more. You’re crazy,” she rambled, “when I woke up, there was still sand in our sheets, even on the floor!” Dean chuckled, pulled back the blanket, silently inviting her in with him. She shook her head begrudgingly, “my feet are covered in sand-”

“Get in here, Anakin,” Dean interrupted her, giving her hand a sharp tug that made her stumble forward. 

“I won’t fit,” she whined, but she awkwardly climbed in between his bowed legs anyway. The beach lounger squeaked and she looked down at him frightened, with wide eyes. Dean only laughed and pulled her closer to him, careless about the creaking chair. 

She rested her head on Dean’s chest without protesting when he pulled the blanket over both of them. They were silent for a moment and she traced the lines of his bare chest beneath the colourful Hawaiian shirt until she got to the anti-possession tattoo. 

“Why don’t you like the beach?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep once more. Dean ghosted his fingers up and down her back, lulling her into a sleepy, sedated state. 

“It doesn't matter,” she smiled, “we’re here and I’m happy. You’re happy.” She lovingly kissed Dean’s freckled clavicle. After contemplating his question, she lifted herself up to look into his eyes and crossed her arms across Dean’s chest. She looked at him dreamily. Dean turned red and averted his gaze. “And… you look hot half naked,” she grinned, her dimpled cheeks turning hot like his own. 

“Well, I like seeing you half naked, too…” he trailed off, his fingers sneaking up her back. She rolled her eyes at Dean playfully. “Tell me why you’re a beach hater,” he pouted, slowly tugging at the knot of her bikini top tied behind her neck. 

“Hey!” She exclaimed, uncrossing her arms to place one of her hands beside his head. She held the bra against her chest with her free hand when it slipped down. She blushed while he smirked and tugged at the second knot around her back. Holding the flimsy bra was useless, but she kept her arm there and looked around. 

It was getting darker, a slim line of light remained on the horizon, only lights outside tiny living spaces made the surrounding areas visible. But no one was around where her and Dean were. All she could think was that Cas was still inside the small hut. Sam didn’t take very long in the shower. Either one of them could step out at any moment, especially because of Miracle and his needs. 

“The sun’s too bright,” she whispered uncertainly. Dean stopped to contemplate her, raising his brows for her to continue as he began to undo the little bows on her hips keeping her bottoms in place. “It burns my skin and makes me itchy. And the wind… it makes my hair frizzy and tangled…” 

Dean chuckled, examining her face, and how serious she was about the irritation she felt for the beach. He wrapped his thick fingers around her forearm and gently pulled it away from her chest. She slowly let go, scanning his face, holding his gaze, which flickered down to her chest once the bra fell onto him. 

“We’re here though, it’s not so bad when we’re all having fun,” she reassured him. He looked up, simpered. She slowly lifted herself and the blanket slid down her back. Dean moved with her, allowing her to straddle him. She pulls her bottoms from beneath her to dump them onto the sandy beach, her bra following with an indifferent flick. 

Dean lifted his hips, wiggling to get the shorts down enough for her to pull his half-hard cock out. She dragged her finger from his pelvis to the tip, tapping the slit teasingly. She watched him twitch and harden in her hand.

“Thank you,” he told her softly, his hands slowly gliding up her thighs and her sides. 

She tilted her head and her hair followed, her entire face softening at those two words. Two words that held so much weight and meaningfulness when spoken by him. “Thank you…” She murmured, leaning down to place a kiss between his now-furrowed brows. “… For teaching me to enjoy something I didn’t like, for helping me let loose, for making me have fun, and for so much more.” For every reason, she kissed a different section of his face, and the final destination was his smiling lips. 

Dean pressed his hands into her back, keeping her lips locked with his. The kiss was slow, lazy, loving, but still firm, deep, and demanding. There was no indication of fear or doubt, but there was an impatience in the way he dented her soft skin with his fingertips when his hands traversed across her body. 

His hands finally settled on her hips. Dean pulled her forward, parting from her lips to gasp when her heat rubbed against his erection. She dropped her face into his neck to attach her lips to his throat, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of warm skin. She rolled her hips as he guided her and moaned softly when he stretched his head back to give her more access to his neck.

She licked circles over darker freckles, and sucked a light, oval-shaped mark on his pulse, grinding down hard on him when he tightened his grip on her hips and groaned. 

She was having fun, despite how quickly she made herself needy for release. There was something satisfying in the way he begged and moaned, wiggling his hips, hoping to snag his cock at her dripping hole, but it was all to no avail. She kissed lower, across his collarbone and his shoulder, using her nose to move the Hawaiian shirt he’d left unbuttoned out of the way.

He was short of breath by the time she pulled away from his skin and extremely aroused, looking like a melted piece of candy on a hot summer day. She didn’t stop moving her hips and kept teasing him by sinking her teeth into his plump lip, leaving his cock wet in her slick and achingly hard. He throbbed and burned impossibly hot as blood rushed through his cock until he felt like bursting from her grinding alone. 

“Please,” Dean laughed softly, and whined, squirming beneath her impatiently. He bent his knees and brought his hands to her face. She pulled away from his mouth to look at him, but she didn’t protest when he pulled her back in for a kiss, silently asking for her surrender. “One thing on my bucket list…” he whispered. 

She moved back again with a raised brow of curiosity. He chased her lips anyway, ignoring the wordless sign for him to finish his sentence. Dean pouted and stopped trying to kiss her. When the head of his cock prodded at her dripping entrance, Dean’s breath hitched. 

“What’s on your bucket list?” She bit her lip, a smirk playing on her lips when she got the tip of his cock inside her. She reached down to grip him at the base and lifted herself off completely. She did it over and over, repeatedly. 

“S-sex on the beach.” Dean choked on air and his hip bucked upwards unintentionally, unable to stand anymore teasing. Her mouth fell open in surprise when he pushed his cock into her all the way, a painful and delicious stretch around him. 

“Fuck,” she whined, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder. A shiver rippled through her, both from the pleasure of being filled by him and the cool ocean breeze that teased her warm flesh. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, leaning against his elbow to ghost his lips across her sternum apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again, sliding his hands up her smooth back to bring her closer and warm her up.

“It’s okay,” she exhaled with a breathy laugh. She allowed herself to lean into him, basking in the warmth of his body. Dean kissed her breast firmly, right where her heart was thudding for him—with desire and affection. 

“I want pizza,” he whispered suddenly. She had to stop herself from laughing as Dean circled his tongue around her nipple. She kissed the top of his head and slowly began undulating her hips. 

“Sounds good,” she hummed, beginning to lift herself up and dropping down on his lap slowly. Tormentingly slow. She kept him close, with one of her hands curled behind his neck, the other threading through the short hair behind his head. 

It was frustrating to be in such a cramped, slim chair, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. 

He took the blanket to lift it back up over her waist, and held it in place with his hand as she moved above him unhurriedly. She was more than sure that she could finish like this alone. Driven to the edge by the tiny sensations of her lover being impossibly close. Dean’s breath fanned over her neck, leaving her skin misty the longer he panted from her leisurely pace. 

There was nothing more heavenly than this moment. 

He made a path along her neck and jaw with his lips, leaving a few marks behind that she wouldn’t be able to hide with clothes. Dean wrapped his arm around her waist, clutching the blanket around her still, and met her thrusts at an equally gentle speed. 

She moaned at the fullness she felt in having him inside her, the drag of her slippery walls up and down his length, the brushing of his cock against the most sensitive spots inside her. 

Dean pressed his creased forehead to her cheekbone, his free hand veering up her thigh, so slow. He felt her. Lovingly, he touched her. At least she felt loved with the gradual glissade of his hand tracing the curves of her body, squeezing at certain parts he knew she liked to be touched. 

His touch sent sparks down to her clit. The possessive scrape of his blunt nails down her skin. The pinch of her nipples between two of his fingers, the deliciously rough tugging, the brushing around in teasing circles until they remained peaked and hard. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, Dean,” she mumbled, pressing her lips to his warm cheek.

“You do, too,” he sighed, finding her lips with his own. 

Dean sat up straight in the chair, his chapped, warm lips moved against hers. Using the same listless pace, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and brought his hand down between her legs, where he thumbed between her folds until he found her swollen clit. 

She gasped at the gentlest brush of the pad of his finger against the sensitive pearl. Her walls clamped down around him tightly, sparks of pleasure from his skilled fingers creating a more powerful flame inside her that urged her to start moving faster in his lap. 

Dean moaned softly into her mouth, and pulled her to him with his arm around her waist, abandoning the blanket that once covered her body. She flexed her hands as they moved down his back when he lifted his hips upwards just a bit faster, meeting her pace, driven both by her pleasure and his own. 

She buried her face in his neck, biting into his taut flesh with her teeth and her nails scratching down his back, leaving behind red marks, and indentation against the canvas of his freckled skin. Dean grunted softly and did the same to her, desperate to feel her everywhere and completely driven by love. He barely grazed her skin with his short fingernails and bit into the skin between her neck and shoulder as his hips stuttered up into her.

“Please,” she murmured, kissing her way up his ear, “I want to feel you cum inside me, Dean.” Dean groaned deeply and bit his lip just as she decided to begin grinding down on him. 

Dean’s cock rammed deeply into her slick and warm insides until he finally came inside her. Slow, gentle pleasure warmed his skin, a buzzing and cotton sensation filled his brain the more he focused entirely on his pleasure until her walls began to squeeze around him tightly. Dean cursed softly into her ear and his hips bucked into her and he collapsed back into the beach lounger with her in his arms, whispering his name repeatedly as she gushed messily around him. 

Dean moved his hand away from her clit and he blindly searched for the blanket to cover both of them once again. The cool air made him feel just how much of their fluids began to drip out of her and he shivered. Her lips made their way back to his own, and a quiet laugh made her shake above him.

“What?” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to her open mouth.

“This might be the best day of my life, Dean.” Dean pulled back to gaze at her with a tiny smile. He brushed hair away from her slightly sweaty forehead, and caressed her heated cheek. “You, me, Sammy, Cas… the beach, lots of food, no more hunting,” she listed, turning her face slightly to kiss his palm. “You,” she grinned playfully.

Dean threw his head back as he laughed loudly. She watched with a more adoring smile that made him flush when he looked at her, his laughter slowly dying down. She bit her lip and lifted herself to let him slip out of her, his cock soft, and coated in their release. 

“Give me your shirt, so we go back in before they decide to order something you don’t want to eat today,” she snorted, taking the blanket with her as she stepped onto the irritating sand. She looked down shamelessly at his wet cock and tightened the wool cloth around her shoulders. 

Dean tutted, “no aftercare.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, but a smile still made its way onto her face. Dean shook his head with a childish pout, staring into her eyes seductively as he lifted his hips to pull his shorts up over his cock. 

“Well, we can shower together.” She shuffled forward, between his legs when he moved his legs to one side of the beach lounger, the cold sand beneath his feet making him shiver. “And clean each other up, and enjoy some… pizza… and watch whatever you want… and then… we can do whatever we want.” Dean slowly peeled the shirt off his body, staring into her loving gaze. “We have the rest of our lives together,” she whispered.

Dean grabbed her hips and tugged her back towards him. “I love you,” he told her softly, tugging the blanket from her body, urging her to climb back into his lap. 

“I love you,” she giggled, helping him put the shirt he wore on her body. His warmth still stuck to the shirt, as did the scent of him. She began to button it as he dropped kisses on her chest.

“Guys!” Sam shouted from the door. “We’re starving!” 

Miracle ran out from between Sam’s long legs and made his way to where her and Dean were. She carefully moved out of his lap, laughing as the fluffy dog spun in circles then took her discarded bikini bra from the sand and ran back inside to where Sam was.

“I think Miracle’s tryin’ to play,” Dean chuckled. He picked up his book, the glass, and the trash of his finished snacks, while she picked up her underwear. She snickered when she saw Sam tugging her bra from Miracle who got into a playful stance at Sam’s feet.

“Did you guys really- Ugh, nevermind!” Sam shook his head when he snatched her bra from Miracle’s mouth as if it had ick on it and stepped back inside, leaving the door open. Miracle waited loyally for her and Dean to return, and Cas appeared behind an impatient Miracle waving at the couple to hurry up.

“Hey, don’t bend down, I can see everything.” Dean smacked her ass and grinned, walking beside her. 

“I’ll try not to.” She bumped into him playfully. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head.

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#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction

[flowersandbigteeth]

A Heath the Gargoyle part 2? It’s going to be the 1 year anniversary for his story soon (you posted Dec. 29 2022) and I’d love to see the couple’s relationship in a more established/long term phase. Maybe Heath is getting ready to propose so Y/N doesnt end up “dying alone eaten by local strays”?

I can't believe it's been a whole freaking year!!! Time goes soooo fast! Okay, I didn't make it the 29th...but I'm close ^_^

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Gargoyle (Heath) x F reader

Word Count: 3.5 K

General Plot: You and Heath go to a childhood friend's New Years Party.

Previous Parts

TW: nsfw gargoyle smut, extremally awkward party conversation, p in v sex, flying and being in high places if heights bothers you, discussion of depression, hurt comfort dynamic

“Are you sure this looks good?” Heath asked you, shifting on his feet and plucking at the silver tie you’d fastened to his neck to match your sparkly dress.

“It's perfect!” You beamed, smiling up at him and swatting his hand. “Don't look so nervous!” 

“I don't want to embarrass you,” he said, uncharacteristically shy. 

You snorted. 

“I’m more worried about the opposite,” you sighed. “Just…take anything they say with a grain of salt.” 

“What does that mean?” He asked. 

“Grace and I have been friends since we were kids because my mom works for her dad’s company…I kind of had to be her friend. Don't get me wrong, we were really close when we were kids,” you said. “But now I only see her for her annual New Year's party for my mom's sake. It's all I can stomach…how do I say this…she's kind of…competitive….You'll see.” 

The two of you stood on the doorstep of her boyfriend’s obnoxiously large house, the sound of the party inside filling the chilly night air. You wore a sparkly dress, and Heath a sharp suit customized to fit his wings. 

“Maybe they didn't hear me.” 

You hit the doorbell again, and it let out a hollow DING. 

“I’ve got it!” Someone shouted behind the door. 

You heard the sound of footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal Grace's boyfriend Mark. 

He was a better than average looking guy with blonde hair cut in a trendy style, wearing an expensive suit.

“Well…hello!” Mark said, his head tipping back to meet Heath’s eyes. “You’re…” 

His mouth hung open for a moment, at a loss for words, then they both spoke at once.

“Heath.” 

“Huge.” 

There was an awkward pause before you stepped forward and hugged Mark. 

“Thanks for having us over, Mark!” You beamed, shoving a bottle of champagne in his hand. 

Mark blinked for a moment as you pushed past him, pulling Heath behind you. 

“Grace’s in the kitchen!” He called after the two of you as he shut the door. 

“Hiiii!” Grace squealed as you pushed through partygoers to get to the kitchen. 

It wasn’t particularly difficult since Heath was bigger, harder, and wider than anyone in the room.

Grace looked beautiful, dressed in a glittery champagne bodycon dress. She'd always been lithe, her profile spruced up by a new pair of boobs Mark had bought her.

As usual, her party was perfect, every detail considered. There was a bartender wearing a bow tie serving drinks, the perfect music playing, and fresh flower arrangements everywhere. 

All the furniture had been removed to create a dance floor, and someone had specially designed gold lights to set the mood.

“So this is the man himself!” Grace exclaimed, looking up at Heath with wide eyes. 

“Gargoyle,” you corrected. 

“Right! Right! Henry, wasn't it?” 

Heath gave her a humble smile and stuck out a hand to shake hers. 

“Heath. Nice to meet one of (Y/N)’s friends.” 

She held his hand a moment too long before she dropped it.  

“(Y/N), shame on you for keeping him hidden away!” 

You blushed and put a hand on Heath’s arm, unsure what to say. The two of you had been half hibernating for the winter. You tended to get a bit of depression during the cold, dark months. Heath was more than happy to snuggle up with you and his fluffy little cat Aero and cuddle, which is all you really wanted to do from November to April.

People usually imagined gargoyles sitting stoically in the snow and menacing passerbys, but Heath liked to nest, tucking you both in piles of warm blankets and reading to you while you shared snacks.

Her eyes traveled from the tip of his folded wings, down the trim suit was wearing, to his clawed feet. 

“I can see why,” she went on, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she caught herself. “I'm so glad you two came!” 

“I've been missing my best friend! Let's get you some drinks!” she squealed, leading you out of the kitchen.

Heath glanced down at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Best friend?” He mouthed at you, and you shrugged. 

“Pomegranate martinis for us,” she said to the man behind the bar. 

“What do you like to drink, Heath?” Mark asked, appearing with the bottle of champagne you'd brought and handing it to the bartender. 

“Whatever you've got with Whiskey.”

“Gotcha, big guy,” the bartender said, tossing bottles elegantly as he made the drinks. 

When you were all set up with beverages, Lily led you out onto her back patio. 

“Look at this,” you said, taking in the beautiful outdoor space. “You've been hard at work! It's beautiful out here!” 

She'd put in layers of neatly trimmed flowers and bushes, which were dusted in snow. White lounges were arranged to make comfortable seating areas warmed by blue glass fire pits. The massive pool glowed, steam drifting up from its surface. It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine. 

“Isn't it? Mark got the best landscaper in the state! I'll give you his card!” 

She frowned at you. 

“Oh, you're still in that icky old apartment, aren't you?” she asked.  "You've got to get out of that place. Aren't you afraid of mold? It's terrible for your complexion."

“(Y/N) lives with me. Gargoyles like high places, so I have a flat downtown,” Heath corrected her, then smiled down at you. “Though the only plants we have are potted.” 

“Heath is really good with plants,” you said, smiling back at him with warmth. “He’s made us a whole jungle on the balcony!” 

“Hmm,” Grace hummed, eyes dropping to Heath’s large hands. “You look like you're good with your hands, Heath. You’ll have to come by sometime and give me some lessons.”

Heath’s eyebrows rose, glancing down at you for help. 

“How’s work going, Mark?” You asked to change the subject. 

“Mark got a promotion,” Grace said before he could answer. “He's a senior account manager at Dawson and Shields.” 

“Congratulations, Mark,” you said politely. 

He raised his drink and put a possessive arm over Grace’s shoulder. 

Before anyone could speak, one of Grace’s’s friends practically ran towards you, eyes on your hulking boyfriend. 

“(Y/N)!” Mary wailed, throwing her arms around you in a way she’d never done before. 

“Oh…Oof!” you gasped, catching her weight. “Uh…nice to see you again, Mary. This is my boyfriend, Heath.” 

He put his hand out to shake hers, but she shoved her body past it, attempting to plaster herself to his chest.

“We do hugs here!” Mary brayed. 

He took an awkward step backward, gently pushing Mary off of him with one large hand. 

“Sorry,” he said, tapping his nose. “Your perfume. My kind is very sensitive to scent.” 

He folded his big body down and tucked his nose into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, tapping a small kiss into your skin and subtly sniffing your neck as if he was cleansing his pallet. 

Mary’s face turned bright red, and she took a step back. 

“Are you still working at that bookstore?” Grace asked, filling the awkward silence.  

Before you could answer, she turned to Heath.

“I've been trying to tell (Y/N) it's time to get a grown-up job for years now. I mean, who works minimum wage at some shabby little bookstore at our age, don't you think?” 

Heath glanced at you and tipped his head to the side in a way you recognized as annoyance, though didn't look it. He took a sip of his drink to hide his frown.  

“What do you do, Grace?” He asked when he’d straightened his face.  

Excited to talk about herself, she went on, her hands waving around as she talked. 

“I'm a beauty influencer!” she said. 

“Beauty…influencer?” Heath asked. “I'm not sure I know what that means.”

She stuck out her chest to show off the Chanel necklace resting just above her cleavage. 

“I model jewelry, makeup, and nails,” she said. “Then I do reviews on all the products!” 

“Oh..uh…neat,” he said, trying to be friendly for your sake.“I didn't know that was a job. Do the brands pay you?” 

Her bright smile fell for just a moment before she plastered it back on. 

“Well…No, but I'm hoping to get some sponsorships this year!” She said. “I have 1,000 followers on TikTok!”  

Heath gave her a blank look. 

“Tik… Tok?” He asked, glancing down at you for guidance. 

“Um…it started as an app for teenagers to lip-sync popular songs, but now lots of people use it!” you explained. 

He raised his eyebrows but was at a loss for words.  

“What do you do for work, Heath?” Mark asked. 

“I own a shabby little bookstore,” he said before taking a long drag of his drink. 

“Oh!” Grace said with a stilted smile. 

There was another incredibly awkward silence. 

“Well, I think that's wonderful!” Mary cheered, squeezing his elbow. “There aren't enough brick-and-mortar stores these days! Everything is online!” 

Heath brightened, though he took a half step away from Mary.

“We do a lot of online business, as well.” 

He brushed his heavy hand over your hair, affectionately. 

“We?” Grace asked. 

“I made (Y/N) my co-owner.” 

“Wow, sleeping with the boss, (Y/N),”  Mary snickered. “I never thought you had it in you.” 

You blushed, but Heath folded you under his arm. 

“It’s the other way around,” Heath chuckled, brushing his thumb over your bare shoulder as he spoke. “(Y/N) is the boss. She’s got more of a mind for business than me. I'm just a book nerd, but she’s a marketing genius. Sales were dropping the year before last, so she managed to turn the store into more of a destination. Since she took over things, we've started focusing on hard-to-find antiques and hosting auction events. Profits have quadrupled.” 

“Oh!” Mark said, snapping his fingers. “Of course! You own Gargoyle Book Gallery! That's a legend! My boss loves antique books...first editions and all that. He raves about your spot all the time!” 

Heath tipped his drink at Mark. 

“Donny Shields, right? He comes by for poker night.” 

“Poker night?” Mark asked. 

Heath nodded. 

“Some guys from the Business League come over on Saturdays to play a couple of hands of poker and shoot the shit,” he explained. 

Mark’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I'd love to get in on that!” He said, eyes almost green with envy. "Can't imagine the conversations over that table!"

Heath shrugged. 

“We’ve got a full table now, but if a spot opens up, I’ll ask the guys,” he said. 

Grace decided too much time had passed without anyone paying attention to her. 

“Now that Mark is on track to be partner, we are going to buy a new house!” she said. “I don’t understand how you can stand to live in a tiny apartment!” 

Mark looked at her like he did not, in fact, want to buy a new house. 

“We’re still discussing it,” he said. 

Grace smacked him on the arm. 

“Don’t be silly, Mark,” she said. “With your raise, we can afford something bigger!” 

“I mean, I spend a lot of money on your stuff for TikTok, Grace,” he murmured. “Maybe if you were pulling in some revenue-” 

Grace smacked him again, harder this time, and gave him a look that said, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you.” 

“This place is really nice,” Heath offered Mark, trying to be diplomatic. “Plenty of room for a family.” 

They both spoke at once. 

“We aren’t starting a family.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I bought it.” 

You and Heath glanced at one another and took long sips of your drinks. 

“I have my career to think of!” Grace said while Mark found somewhere else to look. 

“That’s a pity. You’d be a great mom!” Mary said. “You could be a mommy blogger. Your fans would love that. You and Mark would have beautiful babies.”  

“Of course. We have excellent genes,” Grace said, enjoying being complimented. 

Her eyes slid mischievously to you. 

“What about you two?” she asked. “Are you thinking of starting a family?” 

You and Heath’s eyes met. 

“Maybe,” Heath said. “If you want to.” 

Your cheeks warmed, but not from embarrassment. 

“I’d like that,” you said. 

Grace frowned. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked. 

The two of you looked at her, confused. 

“You know, because of your mental illness. You wouldn’t want to pass that on to your kids…and how can you be a good mom with depression?” 

Your heart dropped, and tears flooded your eyes. It shouldn’t have gotten to you. You knew how Grace was, but it still hurt. It was something you’d always felt a little insecure about. 

Heath’s mouth fell open, and he shoved his glass into Mark’s hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, Mark,” he said before he scooped you up in his arms, and with a heavy pump of his wings, the two of you shot up into the night sky. 

He flew a couple of blocks away, before he stopped and hovered in place.  

Tears slid down your cheeks, leaving an icy streak as they cooled. 

“Are you okay?” Heath asked as the two of you hung suspended in the cold December air.

You sniffled, wiping your tears. 

“Yeah…I told you…Grace is competitive. She doesn’t like anyone looking better than her,” you whimpered. 

You felt a low growl in his chest. 

“That’s no excuse,” he said. “I think you’ll be a great mom. I’m not the least bit worried.” 

“But what if she’s right?” you asked. “What if I’m a terrible mom? What if my kids are messed up or something?” 

Heath let out a chuff with no humor. 

“That’s nonsense, teacup,” he said. “Depression is pretty common…and you manage yours just fine. Nobody is a perfect parent, and everyone has different challenges. Grace sounds like some kind of eugenicist. It’s creepy, to be honest.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You don’t wish you had a perfect girlfriend like Grace?” 

Heath laughed out loud. 

“Grace is not the perfect girlfriend. Sooo far from it. I kind of feel bad for Mark, to be honest,” he said. “You on the other hand…” 

He tucked his head in the crook of your neck, smattering kisses over the skin. 

“You are smart…sweet…patient…incredibly patient,” he whispered, kissing you or nibbling with each word. “I have no idea how you put up with that woman.” 

“You get used to it,” you murmured. 

He tipped your face up to his. 

“I don’t want you to get used to that kind of meanness,” he said. “I don’t want to control who you see…but I don’t like them. I’d rather spend the rest of New Year's with you if that’s okay, not some snobby weirdos.” 

He adjusted you in his arms, nudging you to loop your legs around his waist. You pressed yourself against his warm body to chase away the chill of the night air. With one arm holding you to him, he cupped the nape of your neck, guiding your lips to his with the other. 

He tasted like oaky whiskey, making your mouth water. His heavy kisses chased any thoughts of Grace or the party away. 

Hovering in the inky night with the twinkling lights of the city sparkling in every direction, your only focus was Heath’s thick hand holding you securely in place and his lips on yours. 

You ground your hips into his body, delighted to feel his hardening shaft meet your core. 

His hand slipped down your neck, tugging the front of your dress down with a stiff jerk. The straps snapped, and your breasts tumbled out. 

“Heath,” you gasped, but he hushed you with another deep kiss before speaking. 

“It’s dark. No one can see us. Let me make you feel good.” 

He dipped his head, drawing a peaked nipple into his mouth. The contrast of his hot tongue and the chilly air made you quake. He licked and sucked one nipple and then the other until you’d completely forgotten everything going on below. Your world shrank to just Heath and all the decadent things he could do to your body. 

Your head fell back, pleasure snaking up and down your spine as he delighted you. Thick fingers roughly shoved the skirt of your dress up your thighs, and he traced your slit, growling at how wet you were for him. Another swift jerk and your shredded panties were fluttering a hundred feet down to the snowy earth. 

You gasped his name, but he was high on your scent and taste, wholly focused on giving you pleasure. He screwed two fingers inside of you, opening you up for him. You let out a needy whimper when they pulled out for a moment but were quickly replaced with his tail, thrusting in and out of you. 

You hardly heard the buzz of his zipper, your eyes rolling back in your head. With a tight thrust of his hips, his tail slipped away, and his thick cock filled you. He clutched your ass with a deep, satisfied grunt. 

A hundred feet up in the sky, you didn’t dare unhook your arms from around his neck, so you were at his mercy as he slammed his shaft into you. You bleated lusty yelps with every smack of his heavy balls against your skin, clinging to him for dear life. You were dizzy from fear blending with pleasure, your breaths ragged gasps. There was nothing between you and falling to your death but Heath’s enormous arms and powerful wings. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, (Y/N),” he growled into your ear, practically feral from the way your channel spasmed around his cock. You were tight, wet, hot, and the only woman in the world he wanted. Gripping your ass, he used your cunt like a fleshlight, slamming his cock into you over and over again. 

The tip of his naughty tail circled your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your end until there was nowhere else to go, and you went careening over the edge. With the addition of your pussy strangling his cock he couldn’t hold back any longer, his final thrusts savage and bruising.

Your stomach dropped as he lost control of his wings for a moment, and the two of you dipped into a free fall for a few seconds. You felt his searing cum fill you as you screamed into his chest. The confusing sensation of falling and his cum filling your womb slammed you into another unexpected orgasm. You bounced in his arms as he steadied the two of you. 

“Heath!” you gasped, your nails digging into his neck. 

“It’s okay, teacup, I’ve got you,” he muttered as he titled his wings, and the two of you streaked across the city. 

Instead of heading home, he deposited you on the roof of a tall building downtown. 

“Wait here,” he said, zipping his fly, and before you could say anything, he swooped away. 

When he returned a few minutes later, he was holding a bottle of champagne. 

“Where did that come from?” you laughed as he settled next to you and tugged you into his lap. 

“I stole it from a party going on down there,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, they have plenty.” 

You giggled, leaning back into his chest, while he popped the top, aiming the spray off of the edge of the building, before tipping a little into your mouth.

There was a pop, and fireworks exploded in the sky across the city. 

He turned you around to him, slipping something out of his pocket.

"I wanted to do this tonight...but things didn't go quite as planned..." he said, appearing suddenly nervous.

You tipped your head to the side, confused until he opened the little box in his hand revealing a pretty ring.

"Heath!" you gasped your hand going to your lips.

"(Y/N)," he said. "Since the day I hired you, my world changed. At first it was just a fantasy crush. I mean, as your boss...I felt like it was wrong to act on it...but something about you is irresistible. It was impossible not to fall in love with you. Impossible not to steal you away.

Then we started dating and for awhile, I thought that was enough...but as the year went on...I realized I was happier than I'd ever been and you seemed...happier than I'd ever seen you...So...I want to make this permanent. If...you want that..."

Your eyes danced from the ring up to Heath's eyes. More fireworks bloomed in the sky, and you could see them reflected in Heath’s dark irises.

"Are...you asking me to marry you, Heath?" you asked.

"I guess I forgot the most important question," he said, giving you a shy chuckle. "(Y/N), will you marry me?"

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time for the best reason.

"Yes! Of course! I love you, Heath! I want to be with you forever!" you said.

“I love you, too (Y/N). Happy New Year,” he said quietly, slipping the ring out of the velvet and slipping it on your finger.

“Happy New Year, Heath,” you said tucking your head into his cozy shoulder and watching the fireworks make your engagement ring sparkle.

#monster x girl #monster fucker #monster smut #monster #monster romance #monster x human #monster lover #male yandere #yandere smut #gargoyle #x reader

[luxthestrange]

TWST Incorrect quotes#533 HE IS MINE

When You Found Out...Some Great Value Corpse Bride took Idia, Ortho didn't have to finish his sentence for your help when you asked him where is the blastcycle Ignyhide was working on

Ortho*Seeing that the school and area are locked down*Everything is locked down! How are we gonna get in?

Yuu*On the Front turning on the blastcycle and telling ortho to put a song...and another that fits the mood*

"F*ck you up! Harveston Hits"-

Yuu*Has hands on the handles looking at the last rescue gang*Buckle up my ortho~WE'RE DOING A SHREK!~

-At the wedding-

Idia*Was putting on his suit and being held to be in place along with Eliza and sobbing that no one is coming to save him, leaning away from Eliza whose puckered lips are going closer to his*

CRAAAAAAASH

Ace*Peeks into the now broken wall hole at the wedding*WE OBJEEECT!?

Yuu*Getting out of the vehicle and jumping on the ground to look at the Ghosts with glaring seething hatred at Eliza*YOU WANT MY HUSBAND...YOUR GONNA HAVE TO KILL ME!?!

Eliza*Rolls eyes and snaps her fingers and points to you signaling her Nanny and Gramps to take care of you all*

You soon enough launch yourself toward one the biggest ghost and...MASSACRETING THEM IN YOUR PATH OF WRATH...

GuardGhost*Frowning*WHAT THE -THEY'RE JUST A HUMAN!*Moves out of the way from a soldier ghost that falls near being chocked by their own ghost tail thingy, grabs him, and pushes him towards the angry human*THEY'RE JUST ONE HUMAN! TAKE CARE OF-*Stops talking when the one SAME ghost was killed in an instant he pushed him their way*

Idia*Taken aback by You easily making your way thru the ghosts*...

Rook*Backs you up but is soon grabbed by you and is used like a bat to hit another ghost*

Yuu*As you get on the dented blastcycle again and drive around the vehicle destroying the cake, tables, and seats on your path you speed up to the altar with an enraged glare at Eliza but stop at the last min, get off punch the last ghost standing on your path, Glaring up at the Ghost Bride*...

Eliza* Looks down at you as you grab Idia and throw him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and rolls her eyes and huffs*...

Yuu*Looking at her, pointing at Idia's ass and then at self*THIS ASS IS MINE!?!*Slaps Idia's ass to emphasize that*

Idia*Eyes widen and blush as he looks extremely happy thru his eyes*!?!?

Ortho*With the biggest sparkly eyes seeing you carry his big brother and grabbing his hand to take the both of them home*...Can you please really marry my brother...

I HAVE BEEN HOLDING THIS ONE TILL THE EVENT WENT OUT AGAIN-

You went full ghostbuster on their white tails...

The Guys + Crowley*After witnessing what you did*

The Men were rendered speechless-

#twst disney #twst #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #twst ignihyde #ignihyde x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x yuu #idia x reader #idia shroud #ortho shroud #twst ghost marriage #twst eliza #ace trappola #rook hunt #THAT SKINNY GAMER ASS IS FOR IDIA STANS #twst in the nutshell #twst fluff #twst incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #Youtube

[lukesdice]

'Till the Day I Die

Luke Hemmings x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Some swearing

Blurb: You hadn’t seen your ex boyfriend in 7 months after he broke your heart, and at a party you finally see him again.

Note: hey :) I wrote this short piece as an introduction to me writing for 5sos! If you have any requests for any of the boys, pls send them in 🖤

The light drizzle of rain tickled the tip of your nose and the ends of your lashes, a chilling breeze causing you to pull your thin jacket tighter around yourself. The muffled beat of lounge rock music drawled through from the patio doors, a light chatter of tipsy voices and clattering mixed in with the soft tunes.

"Have you spoken to Luke tonight?" Calum asked you, taking a short drag from his cigarette and turning to face you as he pressed his elbows to the cool metal on the balcony railing.

You shook your head and sighed, staring out at the darkening view of the city lights.

"Are you going to?"

Smoke tingled with your senses as you wrung your hands together, thinking for a short minute.

"Why can't he speak to me first?" you asked, not once tearing your eyes away from directly looking in front of you.

"He's not going to do that," Calum said, "I think he's scared."

You sighed again.

Calum held out his half-smoked cigarette in front of you, drops of ashes dusting the balcony floor.

You let the smoke inhale into your throat and exhale out of your mouth again, watching the clouds in front of you dance into the chilling air.

"Does he even regret leaving me without even really giving me a reason?" you asked, twisting the cigarette between your fingers a little.

A moment of silence passed.

"He hasn't really spoken much about it" Calum said.

You sighed for a third time.

You handed Calum his cigarette and took a swig of your vodka mixer, it's harsh burn trickling down your throat. You pulled the cup away from your lips and screwed your face into a disgusted frown.

Calum chuckled loudly, "not really a vodka girl huh?"

You shook your head and coughed a little, "but it gets me drunk quick so fuck it" you laughed lightly.

After Calum had finally decided to leave to find another drink, you decided to make your way to the toilet, smiling and waving at a few people on the way. You stared at yourself in the mirror, mascara now slightly smudged and hair a little frizzy from the faint rain. You combed your fingers through it to try and untangle the knots, adjusting your skirt to a more suitable position.

"Fuck" you whispered to yourself, the light buzz in your head from the alcohol kicking in a little.

As you left the bathroom, you noticed Luke from the corner of your eye, his curly blonde hair and sparkly eyeshadow was instantly recognisable. He was wearing his favourite suit trousers and converse, the combo you always thought looked great on him.

He was smiling and laughing with Ashton and some girl, your heart picking up in speed. You knew it was wrong to feel pissed off at the fact he looked happy, you just wanted him to be miserable without you. You knew that sounded cruel but you couldn't help it. You wanted him to feel as broken as you did when he left.

You made your way back to the balcony, now alone, beginning to feel anxious and awkward at the sight of seeing your now ex-boyfriend of 7 months.

"Oh" you heard awkwardly from behind you.

You slowly turned around, your heart now hammering in your chest as you came face to face with Luke.

You stared silently at each other for what felt like five minutes, it becoming obvious to you that Luke hadn't come out here because he knew you were and wanted to see you.

"Sorry" he croaked.

"I didn't know you were out here."

You twisted your lips between your teeth, racking your brain for anything to say back that didn't sound stupid.

"Why? Am I that unbearable to see?" you questioned, not even really aggressively but more in a defeated manner.

Luke cast his eyes away from you for a moment and you could see his cheeks heating up a little with embarrassment.

"No" was all he could say.

"How are you anyway?" you asked, trying your best to make conversation. For some reason you desperately didn't want him to leave, and you wanted at least a minute more with him. Even if your head and heart hurt whenever you looked into his blue eyes.

"I'm fine" he replied, looking uncomfortable in the spot he was standing in but obviously scared to even move a muscle. "You?"

"I'm okay" you told him.

He nodded slightly before turning around to place his hand on the handle of the patio door, ready to re-enter the party.

Your shoulders dropped as you turned back to the view, tears forcing their way to teeter on the edge of your eyelids. You knew seeing him would hurt but you weren't prepared for the actual literal pain it brought.

"Actually I'm shit."

Your eyebrows raised slightly as your body tensed up. You kept your focus on the buildings and cars below you, scared of what to reply and shocked at his admittance.

"I've been shit since we broke up, and it's worse 'cause it's all my fault."

Your mouth felt dry, a tear that had been taunting you fell quickly down your cheek. You brought your hand up to your cheek to wipe it away and it was gone as quickly as it had come.

You had been longing for and imagining this moment over and over, concocting scenarios in your head where he had said this to you in various different ways, but you couldn't even now bring yourself to look at him anymore, never-mind respond.

You heard him sigh and begin to open the door, his footsteps shuffling for a moment before stopping, the music from inside now a little louder.

"I may have fucked up and you may hate me," Luke said quietly from behind you.

"But fucking hell, I know I will love you 'till the day I die."

Your chest rose and fell heavily, another couple of tears crawled down your face, but still no words came to mind. You felt as stuck as a clay statue.

You heard the door shut behind you and the music was instantly muffled again, and you knew that you were alone. A soft quiet sob left your mouth, as you hugged yourself tightly and mentally berated yourself for not saying anything.

After another ten minutes of calming yourself down, you re-entered the party, desperately scanning your eyes around the room for his blonde mop of hair. You couldn't see him anywhere. You began to panic that you had fucked up your chance after he had just literally told you he still loved you.

"He left a few minutes ago" Calum told you as he sloped up to you, a beer grasped in his hands. His eyes were glassy from being a bit too drunk. "You might still catch up to him" he smirked a little, like he was telling you that he knew something you didn't.

You thanked Calum and left through the front door, practically running down the flights of stairs and to the front of the building complex.

There he was, waiting out on the pavement for a taxi.

You cautiously approached him, shivering a little in the nighttime breeze and steady rain.

"I don't hate you" you said, making Luke jump a little at your sudden voice.

He turned to stare into your soul, his bright blue eyes the only thing you could focus on as a small curl tickled his brow, his leather jacket covered in little raindrops and glitter dotted over his cheeks as the rain had migrated it from his eyelids.

"I fucked up Y/N and I'm sorry, so sorry" he suddenly began to ramble without warning, "I don't deserve you, I fuck-" his voice cracked.

You took one step closer to him.

"I was just scared of hurting you or that you would hurt me so I ran away, and I fucking hurt you anyway" he continued, his blue eyes were vast teary oceans.

"Luke" you whispered softly.

He stopped his rambling, as you stood directly in front of him.

"I fucking miss you" you choked out without really thinking as he gave you a wet sad smile in reply.

He opened his mouth to reply but as he did so, his taxi pulled up to the curb, the driver inside motioning for him to hurry. Luke gave him a wave and turned back to you, drinking all of you in as he seemed to fight with himself not to leave you now. Not like this.

"Do you need a ride home?" he asked.

"I don't want to be a pain."

"Please" he almost begged you.

You agreed and climbed into the taxi before him, your heart and head in a mess of confusion and intense emotion. You still hadn't quite registered the fact that Luke had finally explained his reason for why he hurt you, even if it was in a few rambled sentences. You still hadn't really taken in the fact that Luke still loved you.

You were both silent in the back of the dim taxi, your hand next to you gripping the edge of the middle seat. You desperately wanted to look at Luke but a part of you felt too rigid with nerves to move your head even a crack.

But as the taxi slowly followed traffic in front, you suddenly felt a warmth upon your hand, your chest fluttering a little as you looked over at Luke's hand on yours.

You let him intertwine his fingers with yours, resting your entangled hands on the middle seat, neither of you spoke a word but a thousand feelings were exchanged.

Luke softly squeezed your hand like he always used to, and a small smile tickled the corners of your lips, because you hadn't felt these innocently romantic feelings since you had first met.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #michael clifford #5sos fic #luke hemmings fic #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings x reader #5sos x reader #5sos imagine #calum hood x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you #ashton irwin x reader #michael clifford x reader

[avatar-anna]

Professor celebrating Harry’s birthday would he so cute 🥹

a little late, but that’s kinda how i do things! enjoy!!

The Professor Series

“I miss you so much, H. I wish I could be there.”

“I understand. Duty calls, right?” Harry said. He was smiling through the camera, but you could tell he was more upset than he was letting on.

You brought your phone closer to your face and smiled brightly. “I know you’re going to have the bestest birthday ever.”

“‘Bestest?’” he asked with a furrowed brow. “You never use fake words. What’s going on with you? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing. I’m trying to be more colloquial, that’s all.”

Harry looked suspicious, but you kept on smiling, hoping he would buy it. Sometimes if you acted odd enough, he just let it go. You had your quirks, and Harry knew to just roll with them by now.

“O...Kay. How long before your next lecture?”

“Attention passengers. We are beginning our descent. Please prepare for landing.”

Confused, Harry peered closer into the camera, as if he could peer past your head, but you were so close to the camera for a reason. “Landing? Love, what are you—”

“Gotta go!” you blurted, then hung up the phone.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.

Harry ❤️: I can’t believe you’re hiding from me.

Harry ❤️: I know you’re here, Y/n. What’s the point in dragging this on?

Harry ❤️: And on my birthday? Harsh, love.

Your phone wouldn’t stop pinging. You knew once that message in the plane sounded, the jig was up. Still, you wandered around downtown Palm Springs with your rolling suitcase, ignoring Harry.

The urge to go straight to the house he was staying out was nearly impossible to ignore, and he had a point. He already knew you were here. Why pretend like he didn’t.

Because the plan is still a surprise, you reminded yourself. It wasn’t just that you were making a surprise visit to Palm Springs, you had a whole plan laid out that involved a cake, a pink sparkly suit, and a very nerve-wracking appearance onstage tonight.

Onstage. It was almost as stomach-twisting as baking a cake from scratch. You cooked the whole thing up with Harry’s band and manager. You were going to present a birthday cake to Harry at his show tonight in an outfit that matched Harry’s. It was definitely out of your comfort zone, but you were excited to do it for him.

Only you ruined the surprise before you even landed in California.

Checking your watch, you realized it was time to head to the arena. Pauli was going to sneak you in so you could bake in the kitchen the tour catering team used. Only now you had to be extremely careful because Harry was definitely going to be looking out for you.

Later that evening, you were frosting the last touches on the cake. From your phone updates, Harry was taking his ritual ice bath. Setting your phone down, you picked up your icing bag and went back to work piping letters onto the top of the cake.

“Aww, is that for me?”

You shrieked and jumped in the air. Turning towards the door, Harry was standing there, a towel wrapped around his waist. His arms were crossed and his brows were raised, but as he came closer, you stopped him.

“No!” You ducked down behind the kitchen island, out of sight.

“Y/n, what are you—”

“This was supposed to be a surprise!” you groaned.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to see my girlfriend on my birthday,” Harry joked. You heard Harry step closer to you, but you didn’t straighten up. “Y/n, darling, stand up please.”

“No. If you go now, I can still surprise you.”

“Nope, that’s it.”

Arms were around you and lifting you to your feet, and then you were face to face with Harry. He was smiling at you, definitely smug at finally finding you. At least he wasn’t upset about you avoiding him all day.

Sighing, you leaned against his shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

Harry’s chest rose and fell from his chuckle. “Don’t sound too excited.”

“I’m sorry. I just really wanted this surprise to be, you know, a surprise.”

Tipping your chin up, Harry kissed you on the forehead. “I’m sorry. If you give me a kiss right now, I’ll pretend this never happened.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Course,” he said. “You just got to make it the best kiss ever. You did avoid me half the day.”

You ran a hand up his chest, smiling at your failure of a surprise. You’d been excited to do something special for Harry. It felt like he was always going out of his way for you.

But the night was still young. You tasted the cake beforehand, and it actually turned out delicious, Harry didn’t know you were going to be onstage, and you were together. Above all else, you were together.

Gripping the back of his hair you kissed him. Harry hummed with pleasure, the way he always did when you took initiative. His hands gripped your waist appreciatively. "Happy you're here, darling," he mumbled. "Best birthday ever."

"Not yet," you said, kissing him one more time. "Now go and wait patiently for your surprise."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you..."

This was your queue to step onstage to present the cake. It was in your hands, not-so-expertly decorated, and the two and nine candles were lit. All you had to do was walk across the stage and bring it to Harry, to Pauli if you wanted to make a quick getaway.

Except you weren't moving.

Part of building up your courage to walk out into a full arena was simply not thinking about it. Now that the time had come, you were terrified.

"Happy birthday dear Harry..."

Well, it was now or never. Hesitantly, you walked out as the crowd finished the song. Sarah gave you a thumbs-up as you walked carefully to where Harry was standing next to Pauli. Your boyfriend's back was to you, Pauli nudged his shoulder and he turned around immediately, a wide grin splitting his face.

"My love," he said softly, making sure he wasn't speaking into the mic. You could tell he saw the terror on your face, so he came closer and stepped in front of you so all you saw was him. The screams were still overwhelming, but you only saw him, which helped to take the edge off.

"This is the part where you act surprised," was all you could think of to say.

"I am. Never thought you would try to upstage me on my birthday," Harry teased. Then he winked and said, "You want to see them go absolutely insane?"

"Wh—What are you talking abou—"

Harry leaned over and kissed you on the forehead, and just as he predicted, the screams only got louder. You wanted to sink into the floor, but Harry kept murmuring words of encouragement, thanking you for the birthday surprise.

He made his wish and made a show of acting surprised to see you out here. Each minute felt like an hour, though by the end of it you would say you were only mildly uncomfortable. Harry kept an arm around you the whole time, making sure to whisper in your ear silly jokes and facts he read up on to impress you. And, "You look radiant darling, but that's not a surprise. You're always the most beautiful woman in the room."

That earned him a pinch when your face flushed, but he just laughed and kissed your cheek.

The show eventually had to continue, and you shuffled back offstage, but not before Harry dabbed a bit of frosting onto your nose. He seemed to be in higher spirits afterward. You busied yourself with cutting the cake into equal parts for everyone onstage—you made cupcakes for the crew. You danced a little as you cut the cake. Having been working, you missed the last couple shows, but you missed the energy and hearing Harry perform. When the show was playing its final chords, you grabbed a slice of cake to hand to Harry when he ran offstage. Your smile was big as he jogged toward you, partially because you were eager for him to try your cake—you were quite proud of how it turned out.

You handed the plate to him, and he took it, only to set it back on the table where the rest of the slices were. "Nope," he said, not even stopping as he hoisted you into his arms. Your legs went around his waist instinctively, even as you repeatedly told him to put you down. Harry did, but only when you were back in his dressing room and a sofa was underneath you.

"I worked really hard on that cake," you said, only partially irked that he didn't even try it.

"We'll eat it after," he said quickly.

Part of you wanted to argue, but Harry was still sweating from the show, and he was wearing one of those matching sets that he refused to wear a shirt underneath. "Promise?"

Harry kissed you, your chin between his fingers. "Promise."

He leaned in again, shedding his jacket and tossing it on the floor, but before he got to you, you paused him and said, "Happy birthday, darling. I love you."

"And I love you. You're getting a lot better at surprises too."

"Wait what?"

#harry styles #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine

[sorialice]

Onceler x Reader Fluff (makeup time!!)

Gender Neutral Reader :D

for @arson-n-barf !

You’re sitting in your room, trying to get ready to go out into Thneedville for some groceries and maybe casual walking around. Sitting on the floor in front of a mirror the Onceler keeps around, your makeup is positioned on your lap or on the floor around you. You start by putting concealer under your eyes, and then-

There’s humming in the distance…

“Hey Y/N!”

“Hey Oncie.”

“Whatcha got there?”

“I’m just putting on my makeup, getting ready to go out today.”

“Oooo can I try, Y/N?”

You’re a bit taken aback by this, but eager to see the Onceler all fancied up. Maybe you can even force him to go to work in a super cute look… with sparkly green eyeshadow? The possibilities are endless…. This is gonna be so silly…

“Yeah, sure. Here. You need help right?”

You reach for a box of makeup you’re not using so you can still get your own done, and shove it towards him. It should have everything he needs.

“Nahhhh how hard could it possibly-”

He sees the box full of makeup and his eyes widen.

“Everything okay, Oncie?”

“I knew there was mascara and uhh… bloosh? But what is all this? I feel like I underestimated the amount of makeup people use…”

“Bloosh??”

He’s even more stupid than I first thought.

You dig through the box and pick up some extra concealer and foundation you got in a free-bie once that looks like it could match his tone.

“Alright, here. This is concealer, and this is foundation. I think we’ll just use a little concealer for you since your skin is pretty clear already.”

“It… isn’t it the same thing?”

“Nope.”

The Onceler blushes a little, feeling a bit dumb for not understanding something he thought would be so simple. You apply some concealer to his under eyes and blend it out. You then use a brush to powder his face and put the “bloosh” on his cheeks and nose.

“What color eyeshadow do you want? Any? There’s green like your suit… or pink like a thneed? Orange like the Lorax?

“I would never wanna match that furry meatloaf… Let’s do green.”

You apply a little bit of sparkly green eyeshadow to his lids and back up some to look at it.

“Cute! Okay, you already wear mascara don’t you?”

“No?”

“Your eyelashes are naturally that curled and dark? That’s so unfair…”

You hold the mascara wand up to his eyelashes, and he scoots away dramatically.

“Woah woah woah woah don’t stick that in my eyes! Are you crazy???”

“It’s not going in your eyes! I do this for myself every morning, calm down you scaredy pants!!”

The Onceler winces a little, but lets you put the mascara on him.

“There, that wasn’t so bad. Do you wanna do the eyeliner yourself then?”

“Eyeliner? You’re gonna put lines in my eyes???”

“NO oh my- alright here. I’ll do it, but you can’t move okay? No moving at all, got that?”

The Onceler does his best to sit still as you put very minimal eyeliner on him.

“Thank goodness that’s over with. Now, do you want pink lipstick, or something crazier? I can also do lip gloss.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Lip gloss is shiny, and, well, a gloss. Lip stick is… a stick? I can layer them if you want.”

“Yes, that would be fine. I think pink is fine.”

You put a peachy pink lipstick on him and some shiny clear gloss with little glitters over top.

“That’s so cute! Oncie, you look adorable!”

You reach over to get some highlighter to put on his inner corners and nose, when suddenly someone busts in.

“Hey beanpole, you-”

It’s the Lorax! His cute fuzzy butt just broke in and is now looking upon a super fabulous Onceler.

“Y/N. What is this.”

“Oh the Onceler just wanted to try some m-”

“No, I see that. I can see that he tried. This is horrendous, kid. Let me show you how it’s done.”

“Oh…?”

The Lorax grabs some of your makeup with his little orange fist and faces the mirror, putting it all on faster than you knew was possible. He turns around and…

Oh. Oh my.

The Lorax has on a super fierce look. He has bold pink and orange eyeshadow, fading out into a smokey eye. His eyeliner is black and thick, but somehow perfectly symmetrical. His cheeks are perfectly blushed with an orangey pink, his lips perfectly over-lined… He’s… He’s…

“BEAUTIFUL!!”

(You and the Onceler say this in unison.)

The Onceler grabs the fluffy pumpkin butt and squeezes him.

“Oh I didn’t think you could get any cuter! Oh this is so unexpected but so so perfect.”

“Yeah and I didn’t think you could get any more annoying. Put me down, I demand you!”

You stand back and giggle at these two now very sparkly and beautiful guys.

alright that’s it! hope that’s all you wanted it to be 😻😻

#onceler #the lorax #the onceler #fanfic #fanfiction #greedler #greedler x reader #onceler x reader #the greedler #the onceler x reader #the lorax 2012 #lorax fandom #lorax 2012

[redroomreflections]

II HANDS II HEAVEN 5

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

W/c: 3.2k

“Red or Blue?” You asked Natasha as you sifted through one of your many suitcases. Clothes were strewn about on the floor around you as you debated what to wear. It wasn’t exactly a tough choice but first impressions mattered. Even if the first impressions you were banking on weren’t the other hotel guests. 

“What?” She glanced up from her phone, confusion evident in her furrowed brow. “Why are you asking me?” 

She was busy debriefing Steve and the team on a few minor details. Small things she picked up about the resort from your time in the lobby. So far, as expected, everything seemed normal. 

You glanced over, noticing her distraction, and rolled your eyes. "Just trying to involve you in the decision-making process. You know, team effort. Don’t you have girlfriends that you discuss outfit choices with?” 

 "Not really my style," She replied dryly, before resuming her conversation with Steve and the team, seamlessly slipping back into her professional demeanor.

“I can see,” You muttered as you slipped into the bathroom. You took your time changing into the black suit, tying it as best you could behind your neck before you snapped the straps of the bottoms on your waistline. You walk back over to your suitcase, squatting to find your favorite lotion-sunscreen combo that always has your skin looking lovely and sparkly. “I guess it’s not okay to ask you if I should wear my hair up or down?” You tilted your head, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you applied generous amounts of lotion to your legs. With one knee bent, you glanced over to Natasha, waiting for her response.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement as she glanced up from her phone. "I suppose you can ask," she replied. "But don't expect any expert advice from me."

You shook your head. What a shame. "Fair enough," you conceded, finishing up with the lotion before returning to your suitcase. "Looks like it's just me and my questionable fashion sense then."

It’s then Natasha truly looked at you. This bikini was wow. In every sense of the word. It was very little, borderline inappropriate, but also somehow still tasteful. Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary as she took in the sight, a subtle appreciation glinting in her eyes.

"Um, Natasha?" You prompted, noticing her prolonged scrutiny.

Natasha blinked, snapping out of her reverie. "Oh, uh, sorry," she replied, clearing her throat. "Wear your hair down. It suits the look."

You didn't catch her response at first, too engrossed in adjusting the straps of your bikini top. "What was that?" you asked, looking up to meet her gaze.

Natasha repeated herself, her tone more decisive this time. "I said, wear it down. It looks good." 

You grinned in response, nodding in agreement before turning your attention back to your reflection in the mirror. Natasha's subtle compliment brought warmth to your cheeks and a little more pep in your step.

“Are you wearing that?” You gestured to her as you made eye contact in the mirror across from the bed. It's an interesting choice on the resort’s part. Natasha’s outfit was homely but not in an insulting kind of way. A comfy set since the both of you had spent hours in the car.  With this blonde hair, she resembled the everyday girl next door. 

“Of course not,” Natasha shook her head. She grabbed her bikini from the luggage she’d unpacked already at this point.  “Don’t turn around.” She warned you. 

You turned your gaze toward the mirror, only to witness a blur of motion behind you. Clothes flew through the air as Natasha swiftly shed her sweatpants and t-shirt and stepped into her one-piece swimsuit with practiced efficiency.

The speed and fluidity of her movements left you momentarily speechless, your mouth suddenly feeling dry as you watched in awe. You attempted to distract yourself with the jewelry in front of you. Diamond hoop earrings and a small heart-shaped necklace. 

Natasha looked up from fastening her sandals. "Are you ready?"

You raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. "You just got dressed and you’re already rushing me?"

Natasha chuckled, her smirk widening as she shook her head. "I like to stay ahead of schedule," she replied, her tone teasing. 

You rolled your eyes with a grin. "Alright, alright," you conceded, reaching for your sandals. "I'm ready when you are."

“You’re wearing jewelry to the pool?” She questioned, pushing the Fendi sunglasses over her hair. 

Natasha's question caught you off guard as you adjusted your jewelry, a puzzled expression on your face. 

You glanced down at your accessories, contemplating her observation for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "Why not?" you replied, your fingers deftly arranging the delicate pieces. "A little extra never hurt anyone."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “ If you say so," she conceded."Just don't come crying to me if you lose something in the water."

“Don’t worry I’ll find some hot pool boy to find it for me,” You shrugged. 

Natasha arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as she shot back with equal snarkiness, "Just make sure he's qualified for the job."

***********

The pool area stirred with activity, a lively mix of people young and old enjoying the serene surroundings. The crystal-clear water sparkled under the sun's gentle rays, creating a picturesque scene that called to you.

Finding a few empty seats nearby, you and Natasha made your way over, the soft chatter of voices and the occasional splash of water filling the air. There was some reggae mix on the stereo as the bartender called out names for drinks. Dropping your bags and book onto the nearest chair, you settled down with a contented sigh, sinking into the welcoming embrace of the cushioned seat.

“Joan, sweetie,” You said with a mischievous grin, turning to Natasha. “I left my towel back in the room. Won’t you be a dear and grab me one?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at your request, having just settled into her seat. She tilted her head slightly, a hint of annoyance in her gaze as she considered your cheeky demeanor. With a low growl, Natasha stood and walked over to the shelf where the spare towels were. She grabbed a few, walking back over to you with a frown. 

“Here,” She gently passed a towel to you. “Anything else?”

“Hmm,” You thought long and hard. “I’d love a strawberry-lemon mojito.”

Natasha's eyes narrowed further at your response."Keep dreaming," she wanted to say, but for the sake of appearances, she sighed and walked over to the bartender.  

You watched her walk away, your eyes lingering on certain assets longer than necessary. You could admit that Natasha had an amazing physique. Something you had always admired from a distance. 

A subtle flush crept up your cheeks as you realized the direction of your thoughts. Despite your professionalism, you couldn't deny the admiration you held for Natasha's physical prowess. It was a quality you had always respected, even if you had never openly acknowledged it before.

She’d probably kill you if you did it anyway. 

Turning your attention back to the pool, you made a conscious effort to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside any lingering distractions. Beside you, you noticed an older woman with graying hair casting a curious glance in your direction. Her eyes flashed with interest as she leaned closer, a warm smile gracing her lips.

“Newlyweds?” she ventured, her voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" you replied, feigning innocence as you awaited her response.

The older lady chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement at your response. "Oh, it's just something about the way you two carry yourselves," she explained with a knowing smile. "There's a certain glow of happiness and togetherness that newlyweds often have. It's unmistakable."

“Wow, you got all that in the five minutes you saw us together?” You questioned. “Are you a psychic or something?”

"Only in a past life," She laughed lightly. "I'm Leslie. And this is my husband Frank. “She referred to the sleeping man with a slight sunburn next to her. You are?" she introduced herself, extending her hand in a gesture of greeting.

"Alexis," you replied with a warm smile, accepting her handshake. "Nice to meet you, Leslie. My lovely wife over there is Joan."

"Oh, I love this newer generation of out and proud love," Leslie smiled wistfully. "It’s so beautiful to see. Such a beautiful couple too. Is this your first time at the resort?"

"Thank you, Leslie," you replied sincerely, touched by her kindness. "Yes, it's our first time here. We heard wonderful things about the resort and couldn't resist experiencing it for ourselves."

“And how do you like it?” Her eyes sparkled with interest. 

"It's been quite lovely so far," You added. “It’s been a while since we’ve taken a proper vacation together. I’m so excited for the week we’re here.” 

Leslie's excitement was contagious as she spoke about the upcoming events at the resort. "You’re going to be blown away by all of the events this week," she grinned. "There’s a special bonfire tomorrow night that’s simply fabulous. It’s intimate and cozy. Allows you to make friends on vacation."

Your interest was piqued at the mention of the bonfire, as it hadn’t been mentioned in any of the research you’d done. Maybe it was a new development."That sounds wonderful," you replied with genuine enthusiasm, masking any hint of suspicion behind your smile. "We'll definitely have to check it out."

“You absolutely should,” Leslie began to stand. “It would be wonderful for a lovely couple like you to grace us with your presence.” Leslie’s aching bones limited her mobility as she shuffled around the chairs. “I’m going to the bathroom. If Frank wakes up, which I doubt he will, be a dear and tell him I’ll be back.”

“Will do, Leslie,” You nodded, offering a warm smile. She seemed nice enough. You returned your gaze to Natasha to see that she was engaged in a conversation of her own. Seems that people naturally gravitated to both of you. 

*******************

For the first time in days, Natasha found a moment of peace at the bar. She settled onto one of the stools, swaying gently to the rhythm of the music as she signaled to the bartender. As he approached Natasha did a quick once over of his body. Something someone of his attractiveness would be used to. His dark, mahogany skin glowed with a natural warmth, complemented by a smile that seemed to light up the entire bar. 

His hair, a messy of glossy curls, framed his face in a wild and untamed mane, adding to his charm.

He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants that appeared to be the uniform for all of the staff. 

"Hello," Natasha greeted him with a warm smile, her tone playful yet composed. "I'll take a strawberry and lemon mojito, and hmm," she paused, pressing a finger to her chin in contemplation. She was completely in character at the moment. "Surprise me. Something fruity."

"Coming right up," he replied with a nod, before stepping over to his work area. 

Natasha watched him for a few moments longer before her eyes trailed over the pool area, she couldn't help but notice the diverse display of people and their lively parties. Briefly, her gaze flickered in your direction, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. You managed to look so relaxed already. Though she could see the subtle ways your eyes would flick over the pool area whenever you laughed or spoke to the older woman sitting beside you. 

“Hey, Henry, that couple’s here again.” A short woman with bone-straight brunette hair and botox lips informed him as she stepped behind the counter. She did quick work of washing her hands and gathering abandoned dishes on the bar. Natasha squinted to see her name tag. Blanca. A fitting name. 

“Which one?” Henry, the bartender Natasha had spoken to moments earlier, briefly glanced over to her. 

“The one with the dog,” Blanca sighed. “Don’t know why Jorge keeps allowing them to bring it. He’s anxious and it’s too hot out here for him anyway.” 

Henry furrowed his brow in concern, glancing briefly in the direction of the couple with the dog approaching. "That doesn't sound good," he remarked."Have they caused any trouble?"

Blanca shook her head, her lips pursed in disapproval. "Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. You know how Jorge is, always bending the rules for certain guests."

Natasha's mind raced with possibilities as she listened to their conversation. The mention of Jorge and his leniency towards certain guests hinted at a potential breach in security or protocol. 

“Here you are ma’am,” Henry passed Natasha both drinks before she stood to walk back to her seat. 

As she passed the couple, the dog in question moved over to sniff Natasha in greeting. 

“Oh, hello there,” Natasha smiled warmly, reaching out a hand to give the dog a gentle pat on the head. This certainly wasn’t a service dog based on his relaxed demeanor.

“Oh, Ozzy is so friendly, I’m so sorry,” The woman with platinum blonde hair and several tattoos attached to the leash apologized to Natasha, a hint of concern in her voice.

Natasha waved off the apology with a gracious smile. "No need to apologize, he's quite adorable," she reassured the woman, her tone friendly and welcoming.

As Natasha continued interacting with the dog, she noted the couple's appearance and demeanor. Something about them didn't quite fit the typical resort guest profile of this caliber, and Natasha's instincts told her there might be more to their presence than meets the eye. They both seemed so uptight and frazzled. 

Natasha gave them another smile and walked back over to you. 

“Took you long enough my drink is probably watered-down liquor,” You pouted. “Eh, this is wow.” You coughed. It wasn’t nasty. It was strong and certainly had more alcohol than fruit somehow. 

Natasha arched an eyebrow at your remark. 

"Well, perhaps next time you can come behind the bar and make it yourself," she quipped, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. "Then you can ensure it meets your exacting standards."

“My existing standards led me to you,” You said through your teeth. 

Natasha's lips curved into a smirk as she settled into the seat beside you, her gaze locking with yours in a silent exchange of understanding.

"Well, lucky me," she retorted. "I'll make sure to keep living up to those standards then."

"Does it ever end?" You fake whispered, turning your head towards Leslie, attempting to convey your thoughts discreetly.

Leslie caught your gaze and smiled kindly, her eyes reflecting understanding. At least she had the decency to pretend she wasn’t listening. "Oh, dear," she replied with a chuckle.  "Sometimes it feels like it never does, but there's always a light at the end of the tunnel."

"J, this is Leslie," You introduced Natasha smoothly, seamlessly slipping into your cover story. "She’s my new best friend."

"It's lovely to meet you, Leslie," Natasha added with a friendly smile, her tone warm and genuine.

“Well, aren't you two just the sweetest pair," she remarked, her voice tinged with affection. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Joan. I was telling your wife here about the bonfire tomorrow. It’s something special. You have to see it."

You nodded in agreement, your smile genuine as you responded. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, Leslie. Thank you for the recommendation. It sounds like a wonderful way to spend the evening."

As the conversation dwindled, eventually Leslie drifted over to the poolside and began to make conversation with a few older women. Natasha began to go through the bag she’d brought to the pool and found a small bottle of sunscreen. 

"Here, rub this on me," She instructed you, handing you a bottle of sunscreen.

"Why?" you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice as you eyed her pale skin. "Didn’t you already put some on before?"

Natasha gave you a pointed look, her expression conveying a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Don’t question the logic, just do it," she replied firmly, holding out her arm expectantly.

As you began applying sunscreen to Natasha's exposed skin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation wash over you. Silently, you wondered why you had taken on this job in the first place. It wasn't that you were truly angry; in fact, you were the complete opposite. 

This part of the mission had never been difficult before. Playing the part of a fake doting wife had practically become second nature to you. But being here with Natasha felt different. There was something about her presence that stirred emotions within you, emotions you hadn't expected to surface during the mission.

Natasha turned her back to you, dropping the straps of her swimsuit lower on her arms so you could reach her shoulders. The intimacy of the moment caught you off guard, and for a brief moment, you found yourself lost in the sensation of her warm skin beneath your fingertips.

As you rubbed the warm cream into Natasha's skin, the muscles of her back flexed slightly beneath your touch. You couldn't help but notice the way her body responded to your ministrations, and a rush of thoughts flooded your mind. They weren't entirely pure thoughts, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the direction your mind was wandering.

But then, a small comfort washed over you - at least Natasha couldn't read minds. You silently thanked whatever higher power existed for that small mercy, grateful that your innermost thoughts remained your own.

"I think we could hang out by the pool for a few hours and then call it a night," Natasha suggested, her voice breaking the comfortable silence between you. "Maybe go over some things."

"Sounds like a plan," you replied, masking any hint of hesitation with a casual tone. "A bit of relaxation by the pool is exactly what I’m here for.”

“Only that?” Natasha looked over her shoulder to you. “And the beautiful women,” You muttered under your breath. 

Natasha's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features as she turned to face you fully. "Really?" she questioned, her voice carrying a note of exasperation.

You chuckled, recognizing her annoyance but unable to resist pushing her buttons just a little. "Hey, just stating the obvious," You replied with a shrug. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Well, try to keep your eyes open okay?" she retorted, a touch of teasing in her tone despite her annoyance. “Don’t sleep with anyone behind my back.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” You pressed a hand to your chest, faking scandilization. “How dare you insinuate I would ever cheat on my beautiful, intelligent, and hot wife.” 

“That drink was stronger than you’re letting on,” Natasha smirked knowingly. 

“Maybe,” You shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.” You sighed as you lounged in the chair, your head pointed towards the sun. Natasha turned in her chair to watch you for a few seconds longer before she laid back in her chair. 

So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this place. It seemed like a typical resort, with sun-drenched pool areas, lush tropical foliage, and guests lounging lazily in the warm afternoon sun. 

Everything appeared to be just as it should be, with no signs of the covert operations or clandestine activities that you had been tasked with uncovering.

Despite the lack of immediate danger or suspicious behavior, you remained vigilant, knowing that appearances could be deceiving.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you

[sugaryplum]

haunted

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader summary: “i hold on to every ounce of sin / i know he don't love me quite like i love him / i swear to myself as he leaves at dawn / this will end, 'til he haunts me again” warnings: (strong) sexual innuendos, language mistakes, this is for the angst girlies (i personally don’t consider myself an angsty girlie but gosh, i’m so proud of this little fic, i might as well become one), i mean, angst is what i imagined but i don’t know how it came out. +i pretty much only read fluff so this is just something new! notes: inspired by the song “haunted” by laufey, hence the title. i’m actually obsessed with laufey and with this song especially!!! i couldn’t recommend her music more, please LISTEN TO LAUFEY. also, let’s settle something important. the plot of this is at the yule ball but the characters are not fourteen omg. let’s pretend it’s an annual event or something and everyone is aged up please please please

the moon is already shining, as you're going through the empty hallways towards the great hall. it’s the fastest you can go without tripping over your long dress. merlin knows, you’re most likely going to trip over it anyway, if not now then later tonight.

you’d like to say you’re “fashionably late”. but the truth is, you spent way too long putting on red lipstick and then struggling to take it off when you decided it’s not for you. it’s not like anyone particular is waiting for you. there’s no date. in the past month you declined every single invitation that came your way, secretly longing for someone else to ask you. your eyes always focused on theodore. he’s your heavenly affair, your boy.

the problem is, he’s your boy only in the sheets, only at night. only when you’re beneath him, breathing out sweet nothings while he’s softly whispering your name.

and here you are, late, without a date, longing once again. the crowd smells like different perfume notes mixing. all belong to different pretty girls, all trying to catch the attention of different pretty boys.

you don’t want to be one of them. you don’t want to have to be one of them. yet even now, with the loud music and sparkly lights and dancing bodies, it takes you only seconds to spot him from across the room. looking as handsome as ever, dressed in some suit that is probably ridiculously expensive. but it serves him well, that's what he would say. he’s talking to a beautiful girl in a green dress. he doesn't notice you and somehow you still feel the butterflies in your stomach. or maybe it’s knots? maybe it’s not a good feeling at all.

you spend the next hour wandering from corner to corner, eating pink macarons and drinking sugary–sweet punch. you don’t flinch at the taste of alcohol, remembering the last time you visited theo he said something about enchanting drinks at the ball. it was vague. everything he says is vague but you still fall for it helplessly. over analysing every word, glance, brush of shoulders. romanticising every faintest hint of a smile, telling yourself he might love you just like you love him.

a ravenclaw boy, one of those you previously declined, asks you to dance and soon enough you get tangled into the crowd. it’s nice for a few moments. you don’t feel any confetti exploding inside you, your cheeks aren’t burning so pleasantly like when theodore touches you. but you feel nice, you feel safe. and when you get comfortable with someone else, that’s when he finally notices you.

“him?” you’re breathless when you turn around to see theo. his face is emotionless and he looks so gorgeous, you’re already swooned. “who?”

“the guy you were just dancing with, is he your date?”

“...he’s not.” you want to fight, say something mean, try to make him feel like he makes you feel all the damn time, but you can’t. when he’s standing in front of you, you crumble.

“do you wanna get out of here?”

the next thing you know, you’re being pressed against the wall of your dormitory, eyes closed. he tastes like wine, where did he get wine? his hair is so soft and oh, when he’s kneeling in front of you, leaving bruises on your thighs, you think you could marry him on the spot. he’s yours for the night and in the short moments between kisses you get to pretend that it’s forever.

he leaves in the dawn without saying goodbye. like a ghost, he always visits, but he’s never meant to stay. you move to the side of the bed where he was laying just minutes ago, pillow still warm, scent still lingering. you sigh and close your eyes, starting to count down the days ‘til he haunts you again.

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott angst #theo nott angst