#im not sure if i like how this one turned out tbh but posting it anyawy bc them :-) and also it took a minute sooooooo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caraphernellie · 4 months

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build god, then we’ll talk // e.w.

a/n: preacher!ellie part 2!! yay! once again heavily mcr inspired lol, also mm a fever you can't sweat out aka the best p!atd album. i got super freaked out because this accidentally posted a few days ago and i dont even know why what the actual fuck. im super nervous about this one. this one is significantly worse than the first and if i wasnt already before writing this i certainly now am never seeing the pearly gates. AGAIN IF THIS ISNT UR THING DONT READ

read part one here!!

word count: 2.6k

warnings: preacher!ellie , christian!reader . some random bitch named paisleigh i tried to go for names karen would pick. fem!reader , dom!ellie , sub!reader . rough sex . church sex they are in the church please dont be mad at me LMFAOOOO . oral (e!receiving) , inappropriate use of holy water?? lol. established relationship (secret lovers). internalised homophobia + religious trauma , mean!ellie , she’s mostly very nice , just punishing reader and suuuuper clouded by internalised homophobia. degrading/slight humiliation kink , corruption kink if you squint , dacryphilia , spanking (r!receiving) , fingering (r!receiving) , hair pulling. dialogue heavy tbh ,, . use of the word whore. use of pet names : angel , sweet girl , good girl.

towards the back of the church, you sit next to ellie during the evening service. her warm palm covers most of your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin. it’s secret moments shared in plain sight that get you going, that make your heart flutter and knees weak.

it’s moments like these that increase the doubts you are having about your faith – not like ellie knows, and absolutely not like you would ever tell her. she is your lover, and you have trusted her with so much, but she could never understand this. she’s dedicated her life to the church like it’s her purpose, and you’re haunted by it.

so even as you feel yourself losing sight of the need for salvation, and as you find that you can only feel happy and free once you let go of religion, you will sit through every mass. you will pray with her. you will continue to live this hidden, shameful life, living with the knowledge that nobody else would approve of the way you love ellie.

and it gets difficult, hiding it. you’ve lived in fear, hiding the secret of your sexuality for so long, but ellie’s warmth and her gentle touch is something you wish you could show off.

the service ends, and ellie stays back as she often does to talk to anyone who needs her guidance. you sit and wait for her in the pews, growing impatient, and growing guilty as your thoughts run wild and you realise what an apostate you have become.

you fidget in your seat, antsy and itching for ellie to come back to you, so you’ll be alone once more, and free to feel her touch and her kiss that you so desperately crave. but she’s having a chat with her neighbour paisleigh, of course, who is asking ellie with some not-so-subtle judgement when she’s going to settle down to become a typical housewife. you scoff at such an idea.

ellie? settling down with a man? that’s laughable.

but watching her talk with paisleigh, the way her chapped lips move and the moonlight shining through a stained glass window hits her eyes, you need that kiss more than ever.

almost on autopilot, you trail towards ellie, standing beside her with a blank face.

she interrupts paisleigh for a moment, turning to you, there’s always that undeniable look of adoration in her eyes, how she always tries to make time for you, and be attentive towards you, and it curls the corners of your lips upwards.

“you alright?” ellie asks, quirking a brow in your direction, “somethin’ wrong or you’re just bored?”

and you realise you’re actually not sure why you came up to ellie – or, you do know, but it’s not something you could ask right now. so you just grab her hand instead of replying, and ellie’s gaze hardens. in an attempt to appear professional, she squeezes your hand before dropping it.

“is something wrong?”

“uh…”

paisleigh utters something under her breath, something that sounds a little mean, before she speaks up. “i should get going. i will see you tomorrow.”

“for sure,” ellie nods, smiling. “see you.”

and ellie doesn’t even spare you a glance, waiting until paisleigh exits the church. you’re alone, the church is empty, and it’s so silent you could hear a pin drop.

at this point, it’s a matter of who will break the silence, but ellie beats you to it. you know she’s not happy – she’s always bitching the second you come close to even subtly showing love to her when someone else is around.

“jealous or something?” ellie says, crossing her arms. she leans against a pew, crossing her ankles. “couldn’t handle hearin’ about me possibly settling down? or were you just in the mood to get us caught?”

“ellie, it’s not like that, i just–”

“then what was it like?” ellie challenges, raising her eyebrows. she’s got a real mean streak, and it only comes out when she wants to protect you.

“it was- j-just– i just wanted to be close,” you mutter, looking down, a newfound meekness in your tone, “it was just me holding your hand, i–”

“and if someone takes you holding my hand the wrong way, then what? hm? you’re willing to lose everything just to hold my hand? what, you’re that desperate for some attention?”

“i wasn’t thinking, i just–”

you don’t know when ellie got so close to you, but her hand grabs your chin and lifts your face so she can stare into your eyes. there’s not much of anger there. you know what it is, it’s her own internal struggle, that she’s only taking out on you because she saw an opportunity.

“not thinking, huh?” ellie snorts, then caresses your cheek, a far cry from the callous tone she’s giving you. “poor girl, wanted me so bad, is that it?”

your lips are sealed, a doe look in your eyes that makes ellie smirk.

“talk. you wanted me, hm? use your words.”

“i just wanted a kiss,” you say quietly, “or at the very least, j-just a hug.”

“awe,” ellie croons, pulling you close. her heart isn’t calm like usual and you can hear it, the harboured speed she gained in fear of your secret being revealed. she’s warm as ever, her hands on your waistline and chin resting on your shoulder. “well here’s your hug, angel. but you know what i think?”

“...what?”

“you’ve forgotten where the fuck we are.”

ellie pulls away from you, and shoves you in the direction of the altar, causing you to gasp and catch yourself with your arms on the white table.

“we are in a place of worship. in the house of god, sweet girl, do you know what god thinks of people like us?”

you look down at your hands. “we’re… sinners.”

“that’s right,” ellie hums in approval. she ends up behind you, a hand gripping your throat to pull your back against her chest. “we’re sinners. and you went as far as to want me, to be thinking these kinds of thoughts during our service, in which we are to honour him. if you’re that much of a whore, i’ll give you what you want right here, right now.”

you splutter, quick shock taking over completely. “i- wha- here? in church? ellie, y- we can’t, this isn’t priv–”

“nobody’s watching,” ellie murmurs into your ear, leaving a kiss right where your shoulder meets your neck. “nobody except god himself. so why don’t i teach you a little lesson, show god how sorry you are?”

oh.

“i…”

ellie’s hand slides down your neck and to your back, pushing, pushing, until you’re bent over the altar. she tugs at the hem of your dress with one hand, the other trailing up the back of your thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake like little electric sparks.

“let this punishment be our prayer. our repentance,” ellie suggests, holding your dress up. a finger traces slowly over the outline of your panties, such a feather light touch you almost don’t feel it, until she’s tugging them down and letting them pool on the floor over your mary janes. “remind me, what are we?”

you’re preoccupied, trembling over the altar and mulling over in your mind the way the air brushes against the heat in your cunt.

preoccupied, until there’s a stinging pain spreading over your ass, and a slap echoing through the empty church, followed by your own yelp.

“i said,” ellie speaks through gritted teeth, repeating herself, “what are we?”

“sinners,” you answer, voice wavering. “so sorry, i– ah!”

another spank, right on the other ass cheek this time. ellie chuckles, her large hands kneading over soft skin to soothe the sting of it.

“we are sinners, and we always beg for forgiveness, don’t we, my angel? so how dare you–” the word dare is punctuated by another spank over the middle of your ass. “-think something so sinful in a time where we are supposed to be holy?"

a pathetic mewl whines past your lips and you tremble even more, “i’m sorry, ellie, but the–”

“don’t be apologising to me,” ellie says, chuckling. she cups your cheeks in her hands from behind, tilting your head up. your eyes focus on the large wooden crucifix hanging on the back wall of the cathedral. “apologise to him.”

“oh,” you whisper, the heat of embarrassment bubbling inside your stomach, rising to your face. “yes. of course.”

ellie’s face appears beside you, a soft kiss pressing against your shoulderblade. “i love you,” she whispers, and she loses sight of herself for a moment – forgetting where her values are, forgetting her internal battles for just a moment to show you something tender, a warning, a reminder that she is playing.

and just when you think the harsher treatment is over, she gives you this short warning that almost doesn’t register in your mind. she slaps your cunt, and she laughs at the way you buck your hips away from her hand.

“this is not going to be gentle. you didn't think your punishment was over, did you?” ellie teases, two fingers spreading open the soaking folds, gathering creamy slick over the pads of her digits. she lives for every reaction you have, every shudder and every little gasp. “tell me, sweet girl, what happens if you sin?”

“y-you’re damned,” you reply, trying to focus your gaze over the cross, and your back arches when two of ellie’s fingers slowly slide inside. “damned to hell.”

“yes,” ellie answers, an audible strain in her voice, where she grits her teeth over the feeling of your walls clenching around her long digits. “and is there a way to save yourself?”

“by… oh, el– by looking to god,” you say. your voice is barely above a whisper, but ellie nods anyway, slowly beginning to move her fingers. “and by apologising, a-and seeking forgiveness from the lord, and y-you can be absolved of s– ffuck.”

ellie is hardly listening to your answer at this point. you can’t see her, but if you could, the look on her face would be tantalising enough. lip pulled between her teeth, thick brows burrowed over narrowed eyes as she watches her fingers coat with your wetness.

“you’re right,” ellie whispers, flitting her gaze up to the back of your head again. “so what are you gonna say now, angel? do you want to be an angel? or keep being a whore?”

“i-i’m sorry, lord,” you plead, a moan choking out as ellie speeds up her pace, thrusting in your pussy, squelching, wet sounds echoing in the church and increasing your embarrassment. “please f-forgive me, for disrespecting you, in a t-time meant for w– ellie!”

the shriek comes as ellie’s free hand spanks your ass again, and she growls, “now apologise for both of us. like we always do.”

you nod, panting softly, but there aren’t many words coming to mind at the moment. think, think, we pray every time. this shouldn’t be hard.

ellie’s fingers slide in and out of you, and she smirks when she feels your clench around her again. the pace is so fast you can’t keep up, and her fingers pound so roughly it almost burns. a knot builds in your stomach, tears in your eyes.

pulled out of your daze, ellie rips a cry out of you as she grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs your head upwards to look at the cross after noticing your head fall. she keeps her grip tight. a hot tear slides down your cheek.

“aw, angel, this shouldn’t be hard,” ellie coos, almost as though she read your mind. “are you sorry?”

“yes, yes,” you whine, hands holding onto the edge of the altar for stability. “please, oh f-fuck, ellie.”

“please? please what, angel?” ellie asks, smirking. “you’re not cumming until you can show god you’re sorry for this.”

“i’m sorry!” you cry, a tear or two dripping onto the white tablecloth on the altar. “please, lord, f-forgive us, we have- are sinning, again, a-and- ahh, mmff,..”

ellie almost rolls her eyes, a large grin on her face that she can’t wipe off for the life of her – you can’t get a full sentence out, and she’s proud.

“please guide us, and p– protect us from future error,” you continue, “thank you for your f-forgiveness.”

“good,” ellie murmurs, easing up some of her relentless pace only to make you more comfortable, “keep cryin’, maybe your tears’ll convince someone to believe you.”

you can’t bother to reply, though ellie’s finally, for once, acknowledged how unapologetic you both are. not sorry, just guilty.

“el– ellie, i’m going to– mm, right, yea, like that please-”

ellie releases her grip on your hair, and hooks a strong arm around you. she laughs as your cunt twitches when her hand begins rubbing at your puffy clit, now with nothing on her mind but the goal of making you cum.

it doesn’t take long after that. a cord in your stomach snaps, unravelling as you shake and tremble and jitter, loud, lewd moans filling the silence of the empty church.

pulling away, leaving your wrecked hole empty, her fingers poke at your lips. as you still come down from such intensity, ellie lets you lean against her while your lips part and take her fingers in, sucking the slick off of them.

“good girl,” ellie whispers, her other hand smoothing your dress down and patting your ass. “you’ll make a perfect angel, so obedient like that.”

you hum around ellie’s fingers, hands lazily grabbing at her wrist, half lidded eyes trained on the veins in her hand.

“i need you to do one more thing for me, can you do that?” ellie asks, taking her fingers out of your mouth. she kisses the corner of your lips, and then grips your shoulders, beginning to push you down. “kneel.”

glassy eyes peering up at ellie, tear stained cheeks and a small pout on your lips, she grunts and reaches for her belt. “ah, fuck...”

she’s ruined you.

unzipping her pants, ellie takes down both the slacks and her grey boxers at once. there’s no time to process anything before she’s got a hand on the back of your head, gently prompting you to move closer, enticing you towards her messy cunt.

ellie looks down at you, huffing a breath out of her nose when she meets your eyes. “c’mere, angel, let me mess up that pretty face even more. just– aw, shit, uh-huh.”

your nose tickled by auburn bush, you press your face against her and flick your tongue out, lapping over her clit. the memory of your dwindling faith is hazy in this moment, nothing but ellie’s moans and taste filling your senses.

“that’s it,” ellie praises, leaning back against the altar to keep herself from growing weak. her hand begins to move your head, and you almost can’t keep up with it. “just so– mmm, ffuck yeah, shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

hands folded in your lap, there isn’t much you can do but take this, especially when ellie begins rutting her hips towards you. lips and tongue melting between thrusts and the hand moving you up and down, meeting ellie’s pulsing cunt, tasting her essence.

“sh– fuck,” ellie grunts, staring down at you, pretty green eyes jaded in pleasure, bushy brows knit together, and chapped lips groaning explicit praise while she teeters on the edge of orgasm.

“so, so, nnng, s-so fucking good, that’s my girl.”

your desperate whimpers vibrating through ellie’s core are what does it. she fucks her pussy against your face with a guttural moan, head tipped back in pleasure.

and when it’s all over, she lifts you to your feet, redresses herself. chuckling at the sight of your wrecked face, lips and chin covered in spit and slick, ellie kisses you with the gentlest affection.

“good girl, you handled that so well. hm, shit, you’re messy.”

looking for something to clean you off with, the only thing ellie can find around is holy water. smirking, she pours some onto her hands, and massages it over your face.

“amen,” she whispers, nodding her head.

and ellie’s smile grows genuine when half lidded eyes meet her own, and you bow your head.

“amen.”

tags: @dinasvampgf @fadedin2u @eurewili @diddiqueen @machetegirl109 @craz1er4you @divinediorss @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites

i may consider a part 3 let me know if you want it :) it would be fluffier 😭 maybe they'd leave the church? mybe consummating a marriage iywim... hmm...

#ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #ellie fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x yn #ellie x you #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader

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ctrlchar · 3 months

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HI POOKUMS!!

COULD I REQUEST A JAKE X F READER SMUT?😽

BASICALLY IM THINKING READER AND JAKE HAVE HAD A PRANK WARS GOING ON FOR A WHILE, THE READER THEN ENDS UP PRANKING HIM WITH VIAGRA PILLS (OR ANY OTHER PILLS THAT JUST MAKE YOU CRAZY HORNY)

IMAGINE JAKE HAVING TO LIKE GO FILM OR GO OUT WITH YOU AND SOME FRIENDS LIKE JOHNNIE OR SOMETHING AND PRETEND LIKE HES NOT ROCK HARD, MORE TURNED ON THAN EVER 🙏

IM REALLY NOT PICKY SO YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOUD LIKE HOW ITS GONNA CONTINUE, BUT THE ONLY THING ID PREFER YOU EXCLUDE IS BREEDING KINK IF THATS OKAY🙏

I HOPE YOURE DOING OKAY POOKUMS!!🥰 TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW!!

speed it down then slow it up

a/n:this might just be my favorite request yet tbh so sorry it took this long i’ve been busy lately but i’ll get back to posting regularly soon🙏

also title is from bubble pop electric ‼️

this prank war which jake had of course started had been going on for a eternity. at the moment,he had the upper hand therefore you just had to go all out.

the two of you had mentioned trying some aphrodisiacs a couple times but never fully went through with it. that was until today,when you, jake and johnnie had to record a video inside of a store.

you walked around recording the two boys occasionally passing the camera along to one of them as you waited for the viagra jake had taken to kick in.

you had worn a shirt that showed off a bit of your cleavage but not too much as well as your favorite bottoms

you had been talking to the camera while admiring the items around you until johnnie stopped recording, before practically scolding jake

“hey jake,i get that you may have a girlfriend but i’m trying to shoot a video here and i’d strongly appreciate it if you didn’t stare at her fucking tits the whole video” he says ending it with a sarcastic smile making you laugh

“hm?” he says looking up at you with a somewhat dazed look

you and johnnie let out a laugh at his reaction before eventually forgetting about it and going back to what you were doing

the video continued on as Jake tried his very best to conceal the large boner that has been forming in his pants over the past while, his hands glued to his pockets

he wondered as to why he could barely control himself but that thought went out the window as soon as you had dropped something and bent over to pick it up

he almost let out a small groan at the sight before he concealed it,remembering where he is

johnnie,who was busy looking at some item in the store was oblivious to jake who was practically looking down at you your ass with puppy dog eyes as you stood up

your eyes meet jake’s before they then notice the large print in his pants which you could’ve sworn looked at you first

“please baby don’t leave me like this” he whines in reference to his very prominent boner which you feel as he wraps his arms around your waist,checking to make sure no one else was in the isle

you weigh your options,because if you do help him then you’ll obviously loose the prank war because of your own prank but at the same time you and him wanted it just as bad,he just couldn’t hide it

“come on,you know you wanna help me” he whispers in your ear while he leaves a few small kisses along your neck,with his hard cock pressing right against your ass

this prompts you to quickly go and tell johnnie you and jake were “going to look at something” in the store before darting off to find the nearest bathroom.

as you walked away from johnnie you had a slight skip in your step while you and jake quickly entered the bathroom in hopes no one would see you.

jake instantly forced his hands up your tight fitting shirt groping at your tits before attacking your neck with wet,and sloppy kisses.

“jakey-baby you know I love it when you kiss me there but we don’t have a lot of time” you say in between breaths as he kissed your neck before halting his actions

he agrees but not without a groan and a plea on his end.

and before you know it your pressed against the cold wall with jake sliding the head of his cock inside of you.

with a sharp inhale jake was now fully inside of you,his hands holding onto you tightly as he says a quiet “you feel so good ‘round me” before beginning his assault on your cunt

you slapped a hand over his mouth knowing how loud he gets and as you expected his moans get louder while his strong arms hoisted you and held you against the bathroom stall. and just by how franticly he was thrusting into you, you could tell just how badly he needed you

you rested your head in the crook of his neck whimpering like crazy whenever he would thrust right against your cervix

“fuck- i’m gonna-” he groaned,his fingernails digging into your thighs as he came deep inside you. his hips continuing faster then they had before while his mouth connected with yours to muffle his moans

with his thrusts not faltering,his deep groans and grunts turned more into whimpers and moans when he continued to fuck his cum out of you as the two of you tried your best to stay quiet.

“don’t know how you expect me to stay quiet” he whines with a thrust. “not when she’s squeezing me this good-fuck” he moans out feeling close once again

you then pull him into a passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around him, one of your hands creeping up and gripping his hair. the two of you moaned into the kiss,jakes pace slowing down,the tip of his cock still brushing right against your cervix

you pulled back,with your hands still placed around him “jakey i’m gonna cum” you’d whine out. this then makes jake thrust even harder then before trying to get you to reach the peak he gets you too so well

you bite your lip, and surprisingly don’t draw blood, while you and Jake try your best to keep quiet. once again,you pull him into a kiss to stifle his and your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm.

after a few moments,he pulls out and the two of you put your clothes back on before jake stops.

“uhm babe,i know we just fucked but i’m still uh-“ he stutters too embarrassed to tell you. cocking a brow you question him to which you shortly get an answer when you look down and noticed the tent that was still pitched in his pants

#jake webber #jake webber smut #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert smut #jake webber headcannons #smut #jake webber imagine #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x reader #jake and johnnie #jake webber drabble #johnnie guilbert drabble #johnnie guilber imagine #johnnie guilbert imagine

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povlnfour · 5 months

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 8

series masterlist | previous part

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 207,567 others

landonorris 100th race, p2, and a nice little call with my girl to show off her flexibility. thank you austin

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user3 ‘MY GIRL’🥹🥹🥹

user7 I KNEWWW EVERYTHING WOULD BE OKAY

user9 lando have you seen what she’s done?

landonorris have friends? yeah pretty happy for her tbh

charles_leclerc p2 because the fia hates lewis and me*

user2 see everyone the boys are fine

landonorris keep crying mate

yourusername i actually hate you so bad rn

yourusername @/charles_leclerc SURE you don’t wanna date me instead?

user1 HELP Y/N AJDJDJSJ

user6 she said i’ve had ENOUGH

charles_leclerc make me that rice dish again and i’ll consider it

landonorris @/charles_leclerc you don’t even know what tteokbokki is called you don’t deserve her😤

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 200,087 others

yourusername from monaco with love

👤 tagged alex_albon, lilymhe, charles_leclerc

only people yourusername follows can comment

alex_albon we need to have a serious conversation about how cute lily always looks in the photos you take and yet…. me…

lilymhe that’s just your face baby

charles_leclerc he’s not gonna know what hit him🤫

yourusername you could not have made this sound worse

charles_leclerc i’m quite enjoying being an accessory to internet drama

lilymhe do you know what’s rude? you spend one (1) second with a man and get a dating rumour… yet NOTHING when you hang w me!

yourusername FR we’ve been married for two years atp🙄

landonorris i know a Better place in monaco you can visit🧡

yourusername get your cute butt home and show me then

texts with charles ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris and 10,397 others

y/nupdates y/n at the airport today!! it seems she’s flying out to mexico for the upcoming grand prix 🩷

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user9 seriously? has everyone just forgotten she’s a cheater?

user3 and yet you follow fan accounts of her??? get a life

user7 ur actually miserable. lando hates u.

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y/nupdates any unnecessary hate comments will be deleted and you will be blocked🩷

user8 she’s so pretty even in the rain :( and she stopped to take photos with fans

user1 apparently someone gave her a necklace with an L on it and she put it straight on🥹

user8 @/user1 YOURE KIDDING THATS SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY

user1 THEY GAVE HER A MATCHING BRACELET FOR LANDO WITH HER INITIALS ON AS WELL!!!!

landonorris thank you admin for giving me a new lockscreen

user2 OH MY GOD ADMIN

y/nupdates 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 YOU ARE SO WELCOME

landonorris just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

tweet 4 should finish: hate towards those close to me*

tweet 6 should finish: blocked by my team**

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

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mclaren from p17-p5. not the start to the weekend he wanted but he only went and turned it around🙌🏻

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user2 SO PROUDDDS

user9 all because of her….

user3 HAVE FUN GETTING BLOCKED LMAO

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user6 GUYS I THINK MCLAREN ACTUALLY BLOCKED THEM THE COMMENT ISNT SHOWING UP FOR ME LMAOOO

yourusername that’s my boy

mclaren we heard it had something to do with his lucky charm😉

user3 this isn’t taking a week off ma’am

yourusername had to support the boy. it starts now <3

y/nupdates just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n:

OKAY this part was boring i am very sorry BUT there is onE OFFICIAL PART LEFT. it’ll be a long one i warn now but then there may be a mini epilogue of stuff i fully made up for next summer xxxx

thank you all for coming on this crazy ride with me — sorry it’s aLL OVER THE PLACE atm but it makes sense in my head ok

charles au is also otw next week and a one shot lando smau

taglist (found in pinned post): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicoranorca @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris au #lando norris imagine #mclaren #lando norris blurb #lando norris scenario #lando norris smau

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heartsoji · 1 year

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haikyuu boys with an s/o who's really scared of horror movies

pairings: iwaizumi x reader, oikawa x reader, tsukishima x reader, bokuto x reader

a/n: lol this is me i actually cannot with horror like at all

warnings: post-timeskip in iwaizumi's

iwaizumi hajime

iwaizumi's pretty good with horror movies

occasionally, he'll be a little caught off-guard with a sudden jumpscare, but he's pretty much fine otherwise

now YOU..

you are not ok.

you are screaming, hiding, and tearing up

he honestly doesn't really understand what's so scary about them

since i hc iwaizumi to be a realist, he'd be like

it's a movie. it was filmed. those are actors. it's so obvious none of that stuff could ever happen in real life

still, he understands that you're really scared and tries his best to comfort you

time to put those beefy athletic trainer arms to work

he lets you cling onto them for the whole movie and lets you use then as a stress ball

iwaizumi's a traditional, old school, cheesy hopeless romantic. convince me otherwise.

therefore, his method of comfort usually comes in the form of soothing words and back rubs in his arms

its actually quite nice. he lets you scream into his titties (HE HAS TITTIES AND THEYRE MORE ROCK SOLID THAN REGINA GEORGE'S MOM'S. CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.)

when you're truly scared scared (like heart pounding, sobs racking ur body, you're def gonna get rlly bad nightmares type of scared scared)

he will probs turn it off bc he thinks that no movie ending is worth this much terror

he cares about you a lot, after all. he thinks its slightly amusing when you're screaming your head off at the obviously fake blood, but he would never want you to be fearful for real

rubs your back and whispers soothing words into your ear

"its ok" "i'm right here" "don't worry, i'd protect you if they ever came" type of stuff

after you've calmed down a bit, he'll try to make you laugh

jokes, tickles, anything, really!

he hates seeing you scared. he just wants you to be happy

10/10. marry me sir.

oikawa tooru

lol

hate to break it to you but

tooru is equally as scared of horror movies

you guys have to cuddle up in blanket burritos together and scream at every jumpscare

honestly you both only make it through the movie through sheer willpower

if you're crying, he'll try to comfort you, but tbh he's pretty damn scared himself

however, once the movie is over, he's totally fine

movie forgotten. out of memories. what movie should you guys watch next?

but YOU

you're still crying

you're still really shaken up

you're def gonna have nightmares

he takes that opportunity to be the manly man he is and swoops you up bridal style

he's very charming. he looks at you in the most dazzling, heart-melting way

lol boy u were just crying too stfu

he cuddles you close, and just like iwa, whispers sweet words into your ear

however, unlike iwa, they're much more...childish? playful? how to describe them..

"it'll be ok. your big, strong, boyfriend will protect anything that tries to hurt his princess" "*dramatic gasp* YOU DON'T THINK I'M CAPABLE OF FIGHTING IT OFF BY MYSELF? HOW COULD YOU UNDERESTIMATE ME LIKE THIS? THIS.. THIS IS BETRAYAL" "they don't even look that strong. im sure i could hit a volleyball at one and it would rip into two!"

stuff like that

he would make sure to cuddle you extra close that night

overall, he's pretty fun and is good at making everything seem less serious. 8.5/10!

tsukishima kei

honestly, he's as affected by horror movies at the average guy

he doesn't find them as terrifying as oikawa, but he's definitely not as unaffected as iwaizumi

but you'd never know that

why?

he just hides his emotions really, really well

also he just sometimes focuses on the wall behind the tv and drowns out the voices

he just sits through them and bears them, basically

now, why? why in the world would he do this when he doesn't even enjoy it?

to make fun of you, duh. shouldn't that have been obvious?

when you leap 30ft out of your seat into the air, he laughs at you

he'll even add onto your fear by like grazing your opposite shoulder when you aren't looking and pretending he didn't do it

hes a brat

but honestly, he partially enjoys it when you spring onto him at the jump scares, no matter how much he denies it

as we all know, the boys a lil shy about asking for affection

with horror movies, he gets your affection without even asking for it! yay!

but once the movies over, if you're really shaken up, he'll use his giant beanpole arms and spoon you until you fall asleep

but then he'll be an ass about it the following week

pokes, grabs, jabs you and will say,

"huh? it wasn't me. maybe it was the (wtv villain or ghost or spirit or wtv from the movie)!"

2/10. makes fun of you and makes the movie even scarier tbh. the 2 points r only bc of the comfort he gives after its over.

bokuto koutaro

like most things in life, bokuto goes between two extremes, and never crosses into the middle

he's either having super insane cut shots that go BOOM

OR he's doing awful and is in his emo mode

same thing with this

he either isn't affected by it at all and just laughs

or he screams when the character breathes a lil too heavily

now, if he thinks the movie's not scary at all, he's pretty good to watch with if you're super scared

during the scary parts, he lets you cling onto his beefy arm while he just watches the movie in amusement

like there's a really scary scene where there's a huge jumpscare into the most climatic scene in the movie and you're burying your face into his arm but in the background you just hear:

"HAHAHAHAHA! Y/N Y/N! YOU GOTTA SEE THIS! HE'S...HE'S GETTING CHASED BY THIS GREY LITTLE CHILD! HAHAHAHA ITHIHIHIT'S EYES LOOK LIKE TAPIOCAAHAHAAHA"

"oh the grey little child is smiling! it's kinda cute! why is the main character guy sweating? he looks like me right after a long game"

"why'd the grey little child pull a purple thing out of his throat? what's that? i wonder what it tastes like though..i think it would be a thick gummy texture, but maybe a little gooey on the inside. definitely grape-flavored. the really sweet artificial good one. oh.. now i want a gummy!"

yeah

he definitely makes it less scary because he makes all the scary stuff seem really stupid

honestly pretty nice. you might not get as many nightmares because of him

now

when he's terrified, he's more terrified than you

*main character sneezes* "AHHHHHHH"

think oikawa x 800

mhm

honestly, you kind of have to take the comfort role even though you're deathly afraid of horror movies

"kou, he's just walking. its ok."

honestly he makes it seem less scary like this too because it forces you to see why the movie isn't actually that scary because you have to find out the reasons to comfort him

8.7/10. a sweetie

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highvern · 2 months

Text

Ateez in Different NSFW Careers

Pairing: ot8

Genre: smut, 21+

Warnings: lots of sex, masturbating, porn, domination/submission, fetishes, lmk if i missed anything egregious

Note: this is an idea for a miniseries but idk and thought id put it out there to see if people are interested (dont bring up the ateez mixtape series, im working on it!) thank you @wingsofimagery @yessa-vie for listening to this brain rot

read more here

Hongjoong:

onlyfans creator, solos of him masturbating or nudes. weirdly artistic? like camera angles on point, edited to perfection, color graded. rarely, if ever, collabs with others. occasionally posts erotic photography of one unidentifiable woman. his subscribers aren't sure what to make of it but pictures of them together are some of his best work. daylights as a photographer and has some of his work in small galleries across the city.

Seunghwa:

amatuer porn star, makes homemade couple porn or something with a close female friend. domestic/bf vibes in every video. v soft with each other even when they're having rough sex. people assume they're actually dating bc of the insane chemistry even though they never show their faces. its his fun dirty little secret no one in the office knows.

Yunho:

boyfriend for hire. specializes in "turn your brain off for the night, i'll handle it." rent him to be your date to an event or just for a night on the town. doesn't always sleep with his client (his discretion) but usually cuddles and will spend the night. just trying to pay off his student loans since being an analyst pays shit. big yunho bc he has a big... u kno? and loves hearing the women he sleeps with rave about it. has had several repeat customers and older women that recommend him to their friends.

Yeosang:

audio erotica. just aside hobby for him. tbh 9/10 times forgets to record or that he even has the account. started bc a girl he was seeing freshman year of college told him she wanted a video with the sound on and he didn't know what that meant but she liked his voice enough to let the completely black screen slide. posts sporadically but always makes waves when he does. people have offered him money for custom audios and he always turns them down.

San:

fetish model. shibari, leather, latex. you name it, he's most likely modeled it. has portrait of himself (unrecongnizable, facing away just his back criss crossed with ropes, hands bound at the base of his spine) hanging in his apartment. his friends think its weird since they know he's the one in the picture but most of the girls he brings home just think he's into some freaky stuff. started bc he would nude model for the art classes at his college when he needed fast money for weed. people assume he likes really kinky sex bc of his job but he prefers vanilla sex most of the time bc his job is so kink heavy. works as a fitness instructor as his 9-5, and had a few people recognize him but most are cool and leave him alone

Mingi:

nsfw twitter creator. videos, pictures, sliding into dms. mingi does it all and enjoys the comments of people thirsting over him even if he's one dick among thousands. for his day job he works in a sex store and flirts with the exotic dancers who come in to buy their costumes (turned down every single time, there's even a pool for how quickly he'll strike out). the one girl that flirted back still lives in his brain rent free bc all she did was smile and he folded like origami. now when she comes in mingi has to remind himself not to drool.

Wooyoung:

cam boy brat, sugars on the side. likes being degraded by his audience when he's bad. lover of milfs, and has a sugar mommy he sees once a month. loves being wined and dined by her and then loved on at her fancy apartment uptown. started doing both in college to pay rent, now works at a dance studio and keeps it up bc the extra cash is nice. enamored with taking pictures during sex. has a collection of polaroids with his current FWB that he cherishes more than anything (always carries one in his phone case). toyed with the idea of having her come on his streams but he doesn't want to share. he should probably look into that more.

Jongho:

dungeon dom (IDK), the kind thats a look don't touch dom. if you need a session to work through your stress, go to him. sexy spanking, punishment spanking, therapy spanking. he's got the knowledge and know how. has a strange collection of vintage dvds and magazines. rare stuff that he treats like art rather than smut. jongho i never want to speak on your name im sorry

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #cromernet #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #🫡 highvern

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golden1u5t · 3 days

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date night gone wrong | a.h x f!r

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: fluff

ꨄ summary: its date night with aaron, he chose to go to a new restaurant and everything was going just fine until the waitress came on to him right in front of you.

“are you sure i can’t get you anything else? i can recommend something to you, though it won’t be on the menu but it’ll be the best thing you’d ever had.” the waitress shot aaron her best smile, ignoring your presence. the fact that she had been flirting with aaron ever since she sat you down at the table wasn't’ even what got you going, it was the fact that she was blatantly implying that she could give him something better than you that had your blood boiling.

“he said he didn’t want anything else, didn’t he? if you want to proposition every man you come by i’m sure there’s a corner down the street.” you scoffed as you stood up and grabbed your purse. without sparing them another glance you stormed out of the restaurant.

aaron cleared his throat and quickly paid for the night— leaving a tip even though he was sure if you found out you’d try to murder him—before he got up and chased after you. by the time he made it outside you were already more than halfway to the car. he could tell you were more than pissed because he could hear your heels hitting the pavement with each step you took and you only walked that hard or fast when you were angry.

when you did get to the car, your anger just intensified because you realized that you hadn’t grabbed the car keys so you had to stand outside in the cold for the short amount of time it took aaron to get to you. aaron took off his coat and placed it over your shoulders before opening the door for you. as he got in the driver's side he realized you had turned your entire body towards the window.

“sweetheart-“

“aaron, don’t.”

“why are you upset with me? i didn’t do anything!” he glanced over at you for a brief moment as he started the car. you kept your eyes trained on the passing buildings until he placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a light squeeze.

“exactly, you didn’t do anything when she was all over you! if i wasn’t there you’d probably have jumped her bones.” you finally turned your body around to face him and when you did you were met with the sight of aaron’s amused smile. the car slowed to a stop at the red light and he was able to look at you, when he did he couldn’t help the laughter that escaped him. “oh, now you’re laughing?”

“god- you’re cute when you’re jealous.” he laughed again, shaking his head before turning back to the road. that’s always been his favorite trait about you, how easily you get jealous. he likes it because it shows you care and it makes him feel wanted.

“uh-huh. flattery gets you nowhere, hotchner.”

ꨄ a/n: okay i know i said i was gonna start reposting these twice a week starting next week but tbh i kinda just wanna go ahead and get them all back up asap so im probably gonna start posting at least one a day.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x fem!reader fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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randombush3 · 1 month

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revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

the second half of this part (it didn't fit in one post lol)

words: it's over 14k. i had lots to say.

summary: the final part, which originally had a different ending but i was told it was evil so i changed it.

warnings: it's mainly just sad, there's a bit of smut though

notes: i could give you so many excuses as to why this is being posted now but no one wants to read that so i'll just say sorry x

anyway, i got very lost along the way at points and had some serious plot crises that had me tearing my hair out. i researched children's behaviour to the point of needing an honourory qualification, and i spent the last three hours ignoring my girlfriend while i finished this off.

for as much as i put these two through (and myself tbh), i'm sad to finish it off. BUT ALSO NOW IM FREE.

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

London smells of dirty rain and exhaust fumes, of a homelessness crisis and inflation attempting to impersonate that of the Weimar Republic; greyish streets, cracks in the pavement, thousands of spices from all over the world. Grubby patterns, hidden by the smudging of millions of bottoms, coloured poles that used to match the train line but no longer do. You breathe it all in, eyes closed as the motion of the underground jerks you sideways, the train leaving London Bridge just as you left Barcelona. Without looking back.

You had laughed when they told you they’d send a driver to get you from the airport. The luxury of some shiny black car held no appeal when compared to the familiar Northern line, its blackened route well-travelled and your own brick-road home.

Part of this choice to ‘slum it’ is borne of your desire to return to the past; a time before the fame and the fortune, when camera flashes came from your parents’ Sony Cyber-shot and not paparazzos with a hunger to splash you across the front page of a slimy gossip magazine. There was no Alexia, then. The extent of Spanish in your life was Anya studying for her A-levels, and you’d spend time writing songs without it feeling like pulling teeth. Without having to relive some of the worst moments of your life.

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then.

Your London shows are in Wembley. Two nights, two journeys through your album, through your heartbreak. Both are sold out.

“See it, say it, sorted,” you mouth along to the voice, pushing the handle of your suitcase upwards, rising from your seat. The doors of the tube swoosh open, the yellow line of the platform attacking your tired eyes as Highgate station is revealed to you. You hear a whisper of ‘is that Y/n L/n?’ but you don’t turn around.

The wheels of your suitcase gurgle against the bumpy pavement leading up to your house, but they grow quieter as you approach. They must sense the tension, glad to have the smoother surface of your driveway to move across as you force yourself to continue walking forwards.

A woman is standing on your porch. Her body swivels around as she hears you stop just behind her.

Leah takes in the sight of you, deciding that you definitely did not enjoy Barcelona. “I was just about to ring the doorbell, but I guess you wouldn’t have answered the door anyway,” she says with an awkward chuckle, not sure if you want to talk about how rough you look. You cried the entire flight, and refused to contact anyone once you had landed, hoping they assumed your plane had crashed and you had drowned somewhere in the English Channel.

“I got here in the morning.” Your voice is unused. It croaks, shattered.

“Let me get your bag?” asks Leah, rather firmly, leaving you no room to decline her request before she has stepped off the porch and into your personal space. She looks up at you, wondering how you manage to look so beautiful even now, hand blindly reaching out for the hard shell of your suitcase as she stares. “How’re Nico and–”

Your lips silence her before she is finished. Leah freezes, surprised this is the moment you have chosen to kiss her.

But she misses you as soon as you pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and she cringes at the self-loathing that drips from your words. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you are unsure whether it falls because you have kissed her or because you want to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You must have argued with Alexia. Leah’s realisation weighs heavy on her heart. Something has to have happened for you to have made your move, because Leah had been starting to accept the idea that you were still in love with your ex and she was nothing more than a friend. She had been looking forward to your concert tonight, in all honesty, and was excited to see you again, glad to have you in her life in any way, shape, or form.

“Because,” she starts hesitantly, “because you didn’t like it? Or…”

“Leah.”

“If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Leah,” you repeat, the vowels almost failing to drop from the tip of your tongue. This is a dangerous game, but the look in Leah’s blue eyes tells you that she is happy to play it. “Leah, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you?”

“Is that a question?”

You blink. “I’m not sure.”

“If it’s a question, I’d say that the answer is the opposite. And that we should go inside.” She slides her hand over the metal handle of your suitcase, warm skin covering your fingers where your grip is still curled around it. “But only if you want to.”

Do you want to?

You value your friendship, you really do; Leah has been there for you many times since you met her, never asking too many questions. She means something more than what you crave from her, and doesn’t deserve to be the woman you use to detach yourself from reality.

But Leah is looking at you with desire that has been missed, relentlessness promised by her toned muscles. Leah is looking at you as though you are the only star in the galaxy or the sun on a rainy day. Leah is looking at you like she wants to devour you, and you, with no soul left to give, resign to letting her have your body.

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that.

“Course not,” Leah lies.

You let it convince the both of you.

Pink glitter covers the dining table at one end, and shiny green stars are scattered on top of the brown grain of the wood on the other.

“She might be at soundchek,” Alexia explains to Nico, who is finished with his Mother’s Day creation and is now intent on FaceTiming you to show you the card he has made. “And cards are supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we made envelopes!”

“But you said my card should be put in a museum,” he replies with a frown, his nose crinkling in confusion just as yours does. “So we show her now.”

“Mi amor, that’s not how it works,” laughs Alexia, reaching out to ruffle his hair. With Elena settled comfortably on her healthy knee, gleefully pushing piles of glitter around so that it mixes with the glue smeared on her card, it is safe to say that this year’s cards are going to be successes. “Mama has promised to call when she gets home, and you can tell her that you have a surprise for her. That will build up the excitement, and make it even better when she gets to open it.”

Your son has become a cynic. “And when will that be?”

“Mother’s Day is on the 19th, so we have three days to wait.” You have purposely chosen a chartered route to Tokyo that flies via Barcelona so that you get to spend the day with your children before your fortnight in Asia to end the first half of the tour. “Do you want to write the words out for Lela once the glue has dried?”

“I don’t know what Lela wants me to say,” he explains with great concern, turning to his sister with a very serious expression. He speaks to her in English, because he knows that this card is for you. He understands that there are two Mother’s Days, though he thinks it’s because he has two mothers, and that Alexia’s day is in May. When Alexia opens her mouth to speak, Nico is quick to shut her down. “Calla, Mami, no sabes nada de inglés.”

Your legs slam together but find no available route with Leah’s body in between them.

It feels… good.

Liberating.

You haven’t brought her into your bed, which she notices but doesn’t comment on. It’s excusable to be on the sofa, to have stayed downstairs for the hours she has spent trying to make you feel better, because the clock has only just ticked its way to lunchtime. You laugh to yourself at the thought of that, amused by the notion that you have already eaten.

Leah is curious when it comes to you. That much you had expected, having been aware of her lingering gazes long before the sores on your heart had calloused into tougher muscle. She has been waiting for this resiliently, and you present yourself to her as though you are a new toy she finally gets to play with. She kisses you slowly at times, to memorise the warmth of your tongue or the jut of your chin, but she often grows impatient, wanting nothing more than to end her torture and find out what it is like.

What is it like to have a woman like you? To wake up next to you, kiss you, touch you?

How does your mind work? What do you smell like just after getting out of the shower? Does your accent ever slip, or is it really that posh?

The air in the living room is hazy now, and your eyes close in bliss as you let your sweat seep into the grainy fabric of your white sofa. Leah doesn’t crawl into your open arms as you assume she will.

She wipes her mouth.

Although Leah has enjoyed this very much, she knows that this instance has not been you allowing her to start to love you. It has been for her to help you forget how much pain you are in. Somewhere deep down, she cares, but she doesn’t try to search for the emotion.

“So,” she says with a giggle, as if you are two teenage girls, best friends who have decided to kiss so that they can practise for the real thing, “do I need to send an apology present to your makeup artist?” Sitting back on her knees, she swipes one hand down to pluck her t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on top of her naked body before sending you an exaggerated smirk and prodding the developing bruise on your neck.

“Fuck,” you groan, batting her hand away. “I completely forgot I had that thing tonight.” You also need to call your children before Alexia bans your name from her household (if that hasn’t happened already).

“That ‘thing’ being your concert at Wembley?”

“I’d have thought selling out Wembley is the norm for you now, Captain,” you tease, clearing your throat. “England have done it, Champions of Europe for the very first time.”

“You’re freakishly good at a commentator’s voice.”

“Gotten used to being my own commentator. Only Spanish streams in my house – even United matches!” You smile at your own frustration but it quickly sours as awkwardness drops on top of you. You bring your arms up to cover your bare chest, but Leah clears her throat with softened eyes and you no longer feel so exposed.

You feel safe.

“What happened in Barcelona?” You shake your head at her question. “That bad, huh?” she presses.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you tell her, grey clouds hanging over you as your voice darkens and lowers. “Like, at all.”

“I think you should. It’s better it comes out now than later when you’ve had lots to drink and no idea who you’re ranting about it to, isn’t it? And it’s just me; I’m not going to judge you.”

“But you know her. You know her friends.” Your hands move to cover your face. Leah can have your body, but you don’t want her to have your tears. “Thank you for caring, babe, but I think I’m going to handle this one on my own.”

“Well, you know that–”

“You’re always a phone call away.” You smile, tears sucked back inside you, bottled away in glassware you store in crates labelled ‘VERY FRAGILE’. Desperate to change the subject, you adjust your position on the sofa, sitting up. Leah tries very hard not to stare at the curves of your chest. “You know, Lee, I never thought you’d be that good in bed.”

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice.

Her muscles contract and relax, the tissues pulling on her bone, which, in turn, pulls her. She is strung along, driven perhaps by her leap in recovery and impending comeback. She almost breaks out into a jog, but the church she has dragged herself to comes into view before she can gain speed.

She had not expected this from herself.

It’s nothing special to her, though she will admit that the architecture of the building does hold some sense of divinity, but the heavy wooden door is propped open and she is drawn inside.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30.

Alexia checks her watch, the golden links gleaming on her wrist, catching the sunlight that filters in through the glass windows.

She catches a glimpse of white behind the doors of the Confession booth, becoming acutely aware of how empty the church is. The curtain has been pulled back, bunched to the left-hand side carefully, as though the previous handler had moved with peace.

It can’t be that bad, can it?

It’s just like therapy.

Her feet carry her forwards once more, leading her into the wooden booth. It smells old. The cushion she kneels on is blue, she thinks, but she cannot tell because it goes dark once she pulls the curtain shut.

Alexia is not a religious person. Sure, she signs the cross before stepping onto the pitch, and, like most people she knows, she is baptised, but her faith is limited to that. When she tore her ACL, she spent evenings trying to pray, trying to force her to believe in Him. It would have been comforting to know that someone had a plan for her, was watching over her carefully with the knowledge of how it was going to play out. It was to no avail.

But somehow she knows what to say, and so she does.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She recites the words like lines from a play, head bowed in shame as she writes her next sentences in her mind. “This is my first and, probably, my last confession.”

Silence.

She rests her hands in her lap, shuffling around to ensure she is not pressing down on her knee in any way that is harmful. It would kill her to have to push back her return to the pitch because of some stupid thing she has spontaneously chucked herself into.

“I messed up.” She laughs. “No, that is actually an understatement. I know this is a church and I really shouldn’t swear, but I fucked up. Father, I had Heaven in my hands and I threw it away as though it were meaningless. Was it greed? Was it greed that led me to do it?”

“Do what, my daughter?”

The priest sounds younger than she’d thought he would be.

“I had an affair with a woman whom I am certain I do love a little bit, but, by doing that, I destroyed a life that was perfect. Was it greed?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Was it temptation?” Alexia tries again, desperately. Part of her yearns for the priest to tell her it was the Devil so that she can shed the responsibility. “I love my wife. More than anything, I love her. I do not think my own life is worth living if it is not in service to her, to our children, to the smile she reserves for her favourite people. I… I didn’t attempt it, but I thought about killing myself.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Only once, but I thought it all the same. My sister called me selfish.

“It’s just – forgive me – fucked, isn’t it? I got carried away. I got lonely, I was alone. I craved something to make me forget, to pinch the gaping hole in my life shut. I relied on it to make me feel better, and it did for a time. But now it has made me feel much, much worse.

“And I am sorry! I am so, so sorry. I have grown sick of the word; I’ve used it so much that it holds no meaning anymore. It doesn’t do my regret justice, nor my quest for forgiveness, and I’m really on that quest, Father, I want to stress that to you. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said – things I don’t even believe – but I did not mean them then, and I do not mean them now.”

“You are not religious,” accuses the priest, very gently. His voice washes over Alexia’s ears like a wave of warm saltwater from the Mediterranean, and she feels comfortable enough to swim into the expanse in front of her. “Our God is forgiving, but it is not His forgiveness that you seek. I cannot give you a prayer that will make her absolve your sins, because our holy words are not spells.”

“Father,” croaks Alexia. As her lips part, she tastes the saltwater of the sea, dripping down her cheeks as though the tide has come in and there is no other option than for her to be flooded. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do.”

The priest speaks, but she assigns the voice to someone else.

The first thing you forget about a person is what their voice sounds like. It lingers like a feeling you can’t quite name; distant, distorted, enhanced by fantasy.

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice.

The realisation is crushing.

She knows his words – they are her prayers – but, like Catholics do not know the voice of their God, she can no longer hear the voice of hers.

What would her father say if he saw her like this? On her knees in a Confession booth, backed against the wall with nowhere to hide?

This is not the girl he was proud of. Alexia, of course, is not that eighteen-year-old anymore; she hasn’t been for a decade. But, recently, the legacy of that unknown Levante player has disappeared.

Alexia is so very lost.

She does not know where she is in her own city. In her home.

She does not know her place in her life, much less her place in yours – if you will still grant her one.

She has not felt the thrill of football for months, has driven herself to Hell and back, and considered giving up enough to be on the brink of actually doing it.

She has seen countless meals hit the water of her toilet, never digested, never deserving of the very thing that keeps her alive.

She has counted your sacrifices, memorising the digits of an ongoing figure so that she can punish herself with the knowledge.

She has tried to forget English, tried to improve her English, and taken vows of silence.

She has cried and cried and cried until the only thing left for her to excrete is her hot, red blood.

She has searched for a way out of the maze. She has failed every time.

Alexia is lost without you, and she knows it. Everyone knows it, perhaps even you yourself. Do you revel in that fact? Do you enjoy it?

You have a right to watch her suffer. You do, you do, you do.

Alexia runs a hand through her damp hair, sweating as she sobs in the booth next to some stranger who she will never meet again. Her mouth is dry but her cries are wet and raw, and they scrape her throat as she chokes them out, losing her breath and falling silent only to catch it and begin again. The cushion burns her knees as though she is trapped in an inferno, the darkness blazing against her skin.

The priest talks to her for a long time, not letting her leave until she has calmed down. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her palm before softly pressing her thumbs to her blotchy cheeks to clear the final tears from them.

When he is finished, he instructs her to take a few deep breaths, which she does. “You are not entitled to her forgiveness,” he reminds her. He begins the Prayer of Absolution – he insists for the sake of closure – and Alexia walks away from the church no more than five minutes later.

She is still stuck in the maze, but she has restored that voice in her head that she knows will help her find her way out.

…

“So you went to church?” Olga asks with an amused smile, taking the first sip of her latte, relishing in the gentle burn of the liquid. She needs this coffee; she stayed up late last night because she knew Alexia has been struggling. There is nothing worse than being asleep when Alexia calls her for help.

“I have no idea how I ended up there,” Alexia explains, somewhat defensive about yesterday’s catharsis. “Confession is way better than therapy. There is too much accountability in therapy.”

“You have a lot to account for.”

She huffs out a breath, taking a sip of her own drink. “I know, Olga, but I cannot change the past, so what would you like me to do?” Olga doesn’t reply. The brunette parts her lips, but promptly closes her mouth when she sees Alexia’s slight discomfort. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. I… I do too.”

Olga’s smile is big and genuine. “I’d love that,” she answers. “Eli is the best cook out of our friends’ parents. Everyone knows that.”

You’re in London, childless, and are watching the grand old Arsenal play (reluctantly, forced to by Leah if anything). Alexia has seen the pictures of you at the match on Instagram; she has already felt the frustration that you are most-likely never going to watch Barcelona play again unless it is to support the other team. Like clockwork, Alexia seeks to fill the gaping hole you have left in her life. Somewhere, somehow, the lines of friendship between her and Olga have blurred.

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack.

You appear in London every two weeks, attending meetings and events, but she has decided, once and for all, to see through your excuses. You come to London for her. She knows that, and so do you. Leah’s ego has not reached a size where she believes she is enough for you, but the facts (and Lia Wälti) tell her she is wrong.

Except, what Leah tends to leave out is that no matter how many times you let her sleep with you, she still is unable to access a certain part of your mind.

She has never been upstairs in your house because you always prefer to go to her place in St. Albans. She has never slept in your bed, nor woken up next to you.

You talk to her like she is still the same old Leah, the captain you befriended during the tournament of her lifetime, your entrance in her life intertwined with the ecstasy of winning the Euros. She closes her eyes and thinks of how you looked that summer; white England shirt, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes. Smiling, cheering. For her, she greedily claims to herself.

Sometimes, in her mind, you lift your sunglasses – you always seem to be crying when she pictures this – but Leah is only vaguely familiar with the timeline of your divorce. This is the issue.

There is a door that you have locked and refuse to let Leah find the key. It leads to heartbreak, to Nico and Elena, to a family you once had.

“I wish you would let me in,” Leah says one day. (The day she cracks.) She tears her ACL two days prior, something that makes you feel guiltily nauseous, and you have come to visit her. She knows that you had flown over the minute you had swapped custody with Alexia.

Your legs curl into your chest as you try to reduce the amount of space you are taking up on Leah’s sofa, cautious of her injured knee. Leah misses the warmth of your thighs, and wants to revoke her conversation starter instantly, pained that she has to even ignite the fire of this forbidden topic. “What do you mean?” comes your quiet reply, unwilling to disturb the peace of her living room. The peace of existing side-by-side.

“Exactly what I said.” Leah nods to emphasise her agreement with herself. “I wish you would let me in, because how do you expect me to love you if I don’t know you?”

She sees the bullet fly through the air; she sees the moment it hits you, the way you go rigid. Dead. Dying?

“It’s crazy because it usually takes years for me to feel about someone the way I feel about you, and I just… I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to let me in. I want to hear everything, to know everything.”

“Oh.” What had you expected when you kissed her? “Oh, Leah.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” She assigns your guilt, the tears in your eyes, to your distance. Perhaps you hadn’t realised, perhaps it is a coincidence Leah has never slept in the bed you used to share with Alexia. Maybe you are unaware that Leah has never heard you speak Spanish, and doesn’t know a single thing about your life in Barcelona.

You’re a busy person, after all.

“No, no,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. Leah can’t help but wonder if the paranoid voice in her head is right; has she been reading too much into this? “Fuck, I am such a twat.”

But you don’t elaborate further, asking how she’s feeling, distracting her from your realisation about her realisation. Before Leah knows it, you are making her laugh harder than she has in a month, and soon, like most good things, your visit comes to an end.

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird.

You feel as though you have done nothing but check over your shoulder the entire journey, staring the past straight in the eye and wishing you could change it.

You hadn’t meant to make her fall in love with you. (But she has. Oh, she has.)

This week’s swap is no different; the same park as usual, the same pleasant weather to undergo an unpleasant task.

On the bench usually occupied by Olga, a different, blonder head comes into view.

“Irene?” you ask in surprise, wondering if she has been sent in Olga’s stead or just so happens to have brought Mateo, her son, to the very same park. You sit down beside her, somewhat pleased to not see Alexia’s henchwoman today. “Where’s the free childcare?”

The defender’s eyes narrow, as though she is debating whether or not she should tell you.

Irene has known Alexia for a long time, and, by extension, has known you for a long time too. She is calm, level-headed, and mature, much like Alexia. Except Irene hasn’t ever thought to cheat on her wife.

You are clearly in a lot of pain, and you have a right to be; Irene does not rise to your comment. “Olga has gone on holiday,” she states with practised neutrality.

“Ah, they’ve broken up.”

Eyebrows raised, she turns to you, breaking her line of sight that encompasses Nico, Mateo, and Elena. The playground is small enough, and very safe. “They were never together.” You wait patiently for her analysis of whatever the fuck was going on between them. “Olga said she wasn’t what Alexia needed. She’s on holiday with Carla, and I guess she is quite upset.”

“And Alexia?” You know Irene does not like to gossip, nor stir the pot. So you can be nosy about how she is doing.

“I think her ego was bruised, but she sees Olga’s point. She has been… better recently. She’s focused on getting back onto the pitch, and Jona is only saying good things about it.” Irene’s eyes brighten at the thought of her captain’s recovery, and her tone soars through the air. The entire team has worried for Alexia, spending their own nights tossing and turning, wondering if the old version of her will ever return. “I know you two don’t speak, but if you did, you’d get a glimpse of what it was like before.”

You can’t help your smile, and Irene does not make you feel pathetic for wearing it. “Good.”

“I heard you were in London?”

“Visiting a… friend.” Irene is not a gossip, you remind yourself. “I think I might have to stay in this country for a bit and let things cool down over there.”

She chuckles. “Whose heart have you broken?” She won’t tell Alexia, when Alexia inevitably asks about you, that you are seeing someone. Not that you have confirmed that to her.

“I’m yet to break it,” you tell her, sighing, “but I know I will, and that is much, much worse.”

“Hey, at least you have two weeks of being endlessly busy to keep your mind off it.”

Children change a lot in two weeks, so Irene then launches into an update on school, clubs, and everything else. She gets the information from Alexia, of course, who writes out a list every time you switch over. No one has ever handed you the piece of paper before, worried that her handwriting will be an unnecessary reminder of the pain she has caused you, but, for some reason, Irene does today.

You are not put off by the swirling Spanish in front of you, instead choosing to study it. You have spent hours in Alexia’s lap as she scrawls out football notes upon football notes, scribbling prompted by footage or, freakishly, her own memory. From the lightness of the indentations of the pen, you figure that Alexia is exhausted. From the half-finished sentences, you decide that she was rushing when she wrote this.

But, as much as you delight in your brief analysis of the evidence in your palms like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, you can’t ignore just how greatly you have missed the letters that swim between the lines (and the hand from which they were written).

Irene spares you your dignity by standing from the bench and checking on the children just as your tears begin to fall.

…

You take one last look in the mirror embedded in the sun visor, ensuring your hair is perfectly in place and your earrings match your cream, sleeveless turtleneck to poise you just between casual and smartly-dressed. A quiet grumble from the backseat draws your attention away from your reflection, though your last glimpse at your concealed eyebags and red-rimmed irises leaves you feeling a little dejected and mourning the days you’d actually get some sleep. (Or wouldn’t, smoking cigarettes on the balcony while talking Alexia’s ear off.)

“Mama, we go,” decides Elena with a huff, tugging on the buckle of her car seat.

It’s Nico’s first-ever recital tonight.

He started playing the piano in September, when his teacher at school had mentioned how he boasted to the children in his class that he was a musician: ‘if I am Catalan because my mami is Catalan, then I am musician because my mami is musician’. You felt guilty. His teacher says he is naturally talented, voice lacking surprise but praiseful nonetheless, and is proud to name Nico his youngest student at tonight’s show.

The bouquet of daisies you ask Elena to hold makes her look like a miniature carnival float, and she toddles into the venue by your side while you do mental gymnastics between the knowledge that Alexia will be here tonight and the nerves for your son’s performance. It’s nothing complicated, but you worry he will hate it. This is the only thing he does that is a nod towards you; his one deviation from his worship of Alexia.

“Mami!” squeals the walking flowers as soon as you make it to the half-full hall. You direct your gaze to the three rows your daughter refers to, every seat lined with either professional footballers or family. With a sudden rush of blood to your head, you feel out of your depth.

You’re not sure whether the hazel eyes that find yours help or worsen that.

“Keep it moving,” you mutter firmly, holding her hand so she does not make a break for it and tumble right over to the cohort of FC Barcelona and Seguras. Not wanting to get too close to them, you take your seat in the penultimate row, knowing Nico will not be able to see you over the grand piano set up on the stage wherever you sit. “You can talk to her later, sweetheart.”

She is in an obedient mood, most-likely intimidated by the tension in the air. You tell yourself it’s the stress radiating from the line of performers sitting on the front row. Nico stands on his chair, waving first to Alexia and then to you (it’s your turn with them so you are a lot less exciting right now), before he is lightly scolded by his teacher and the first child walks up the steps and onto the stage.

Five uninspiring children later, Nico is finally led up onto the stage. His teacher sits down on the piano stool and nudges him forwards. He smiles brightly at the room. You reciprocate, encouraging Elena to do the same to keep her engaged with an admittedly boring event.

“Bona nit a tothom! Jo sóc en Nicolau i tinc quatre anys i ara aniré a tocar ‘Brillia Brillia Estel Petit’.” The audience melts before him. “Mama, that means ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’,” he whispers loudly.

You send him a thumbs up. He sends you a grin back, before giggling as he climbs onto the piano stool beside his teacher.

Situated comfortably, feet dangling adorably far away from the pedals, his chubby, little fingers hit the ivory keys once, then twice.

You pray this goes well.

It does.

He plays with two hands, something you hadn’t expected, and Elena holds in her noisy yawn until after he is finished so she must have been invested in the performance. Your own hands sting after you clap with such prideful force that you are the loudest in the room, and the hoots and hollers from Alexia’s territory only make Nico even happier as he bounces down the steps and back to his seat to wait for the others to do their pieces.

After the recital has finished, you walk down the aisle separating the seats in half to get to Nico, daughter-less courtesy of a squadron of football-playing kidnappers.

“How was that?” you ask him smugly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “I knew you would be brilliant, even when you were scared you weren’t going to be. Do you know how proud I am of you?”

“This much?” He holds his hand about thirty centimetres apart. “Mami says this much.”

When he widens his hands, you gesture something even bigger.

“‘Immensely’ is the word I would use.”

“Im-men-lee?”

“Es que nuestro orgullo llena una casa sin techo. Hasta el cielo.”

“Up to the sun,” you amend, ignoring the way the voice has made you stiffen. You don’t read too much into her misuse of the collective pronoun. There is no ‘our’ in ‘affair’.

Alexia’s hand hovers by your waist for a moment, muscle memory getting the better of her before she draws it back into her body. Nico gives her a matching hug, telling her how much he has missed her.

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood.

“You were amazing, petit,” Alexia says, picking him up with one strong arm and settling him on her hip. You grip the wrapper of the bouquet you are holding. “Did Mama get you a gift?”

He peers at the daisies in your hand with curiosity. Shaking his head, his confusion deepens as he studies the bouquet you are extending towards him. “They are for Mami? Flowers are for love.”

“I love you,” you tell him, not trying to make a point but instinctively prickling in the presence of Alexia.

The silence is awkward.

A few metres away, whilst entertaining the sleepy toddler on her lap, Mapi is excitedly talking to Alba. “Y/n hasn’t killed her yet,” says the defender with glee, one of your admirers. The team respected you before, never questioning their captain’s judgement nor family, but when word got out about the affair amongst the older girls, most of them began to see you as more than Alexia’s wife. A new layer to your character was revealed; you are a strong, independent, and successful woman. Football nerds sometimes forget success comes in more forms than blaugrana kits. “They made such a beautiful couple.”

“They did.” Alba watches as you talk to your son, your eyes actively avoiding the woman in front of you. “Our mother has sent Alexia over there to invite her to dinner. It killed me to see her sit alone.”

You are too used to the feeling of eyes on you that you no longer notice the weight of people’s stares, but, if this were not the case, you would know that most of the heads attached to the bodies sitting in Alexia’s rows had been swivelled towards you for majority of the recital. Pity is never a desired emotion to have offered to you, but the Barça girls can’t help but feel that way whenever they see your forehead crinkle in an attempt to understand Catalan, presuming you only speak Spanish as you have more than enough on your plate. (And, as most of the players will admit, your children speak better English than them, so one can only assume that it is your main method of communication.)

“She’s a very good mother,” Mapi comments with a small nod, sucking a sharp breath in as she begins to sympathise with you even more. Not a day goes by where she witnesses the suffering Alexia’s idiocracy has caused – as Ingrid, her girlfriend, knows very well – and does not fail to scream in frustration about her best friend’s stupid mistakes.

“She’s a very good person.”

They fall silent as they see your head tilt up, jaw clenching as Alexia begins to speak to you.

“Can you hear what she’s saying?” whispers Eli to her daughter, equally invested in the conversation. “I knew I should have sent you; Alex is too socially awkward.”

“Mami, she is talking to her wife,” replies Alba, though she remembers what happened the last time Alexia and you had spoken and the outcome of that. Maybe that commences her increasing agreement with her mother… “I guess you– Are they coming over here?!”

Even you seem surprised by how your legs carry you towards the Barcelona clan, a step behind Alexia and Nico. Hesitant would be an understatement, but most of them are too preoccupied with congratulating the four-year-old they have come to watch to notice your tight-lipped smile and trembling hands.

“Hola,” you say shyly.

Eli pulls you into her strong embrace without missing a beat. “Te he echado de menos, hija.”

You try very hard not to burst into tears.

They take you to dinner; a plan you had known about but not envisioned yourself included in. Although it’s your fortnight, Alexia (through the conduit of Alba) had previously arranged to drop Nico and Elena over to yours before midnight.

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

The restaurant is on the lower level of fine-dining. It’s chic, but it does not make your children feel unwelcome. The table is set for five places, though Alba informs you that the reason for this is because the reservation was made before she broke up with her girlfriend.

“Mama, what are you going to eat?” asks Nico, slipping back into his old life seamlessly, mixing his English with the Spanish he knows everyone can understand, his legs swinging underneath the table with an enthusiastic energy. He is still too young to pick up on how far apart his parents are sitting, or how you refuse to let your eyes linger on Alexia’s tanned skin, far too much of it shown off by the tank top she sports in the humidity of the busy restaurant.

You glance around the room, searching for those who have recognised you. Under the weight of at least four curious stares, you motivate yourself to enjoy your meal.

“Not sure yet, babe,” you answer. “Alba, do you fancy sharing something?”

“Yeah, of course.” The younger Putellas smiles. Alexia knows who has lost the war.

Dinner passes with light conversation centred on very neutral topics. No man’s land is clearly the children, and you had never expected to be so desperate to continue a conversation about school lunches until the other options are how Alexia had an affair with her teammate or that your song with her favourite singer is topping the charts and explicitly about being cheated on.

Although you and Alexia both watch how many times your wine glasses are refilled, Alba lets loose, as does Eli (probably to ease the stress on her heart that her girls force upon her). Their cheeks redden and Nico begins to yawn, Elena already curled into your side halfway between dreams and reality.

“Should we head out?” you ask it to the table, but the only functioning person is Alexia, really, and so you close your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact.

“I should probably get Mama and Alba into a taxi.”

“If you call one for them, I will call one for us?” Your suggestion is instinctive; an old habit reminiscent of many similar nights, back when there was love and happiness and a relationship that didn’t feel like walking on a floor made of broken glass. “Or did you drive here?”

“No, but you drove,” comes Alexia’s reminder. Internally, you face-palm. Parking the car before dinner seems like years ago; something feels different now. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I could drive you home. I haven’t had much to drink and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Elena is practically in a coma anyway.”

You laugh – a softened version of it so as to not rouse the dead weight of your daughter.

“Are you sure?”

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

I don’t care.

“Mama,” Alba slurs, pulling her mother in close. “The saint has given her sinner a second chance.”

It may not be as quiet as she thinks it is. Alexia, occupied, is deaf to the comment. You are not.

This is not a second chance.

This is a lift home.

The last time all four of you sat in a car together was the day you found out about Alexia’s affair.

You had suffered then – are still suffering now – but your anger was hot and sharp and new. Fresh wounds.

Now, though more scabbed-over than healed, those wounds no longer seem to gush blood; you entertain Alexia’s stiff small-talk.

She asks about the tour, never veering too far off the road of practicality and shared custody. When does it resume? Which has been your favourite show?

“Wembley is like playing El Clásico in Camp Nou,” she determines, not needing to ask about that because she knows you too well.

Your memories of the London shows involve a naked Leah Williamson. (If only she knew that!)

“Yeah, London was great.”

Awkwardness is part of Alexia’s personality; something you are fairly certain you still love. She is shy, though it perhaps comes off as stoicity, and she has never been good at making conversation. You know she hates it, and you know that her eyes, Alexia’s eyes, are gazing at you every time she thinks you are not looking.

She is weary about the desire darkening her pupils, but she does not do well to hide her hunger nonetheless.

“Go into the carpark,” you instruct as you approach your building.

Wordlessly, she presses the correct pin into the pin-pad, never having forgotten it.

She parks the car beside a new-looking Mercedes. It’s not a car for children, and she imagines it reeks of cigarettes – there is no way you have stopped smoking.

It belongs in the carpark; in your little world of celebrities and male footballers; of money and fame and fortune. (One could argue you lack the latter, what with your current situation.) Alexia’s life has never moulded with yours.

Perhaps it never will.

Perhaps she slept with Jenni because they are equals, you think. Because Jenni understands Alexia in a way you cannot.

“Mami,” cries a quiet voice from the backseat. You stop staring at the grey, concrete walls, snapping back to reality as Alexia shifts to turn her attention to the source of the whimpering. “No quiero que te vayas.”

“Lela, me tengo que ir.”

“Pero–”

“You could always come up to say goodnight to them?”

It starts off innocently.

Of course it does. Of course you are nowhere near forgiveness, more likely to forget about the crushing affair before you excuse any of her actions. Sometimes, you wish for amnesia. Sometimes, you refer to the tab open in Safari – ‘is there a drug that makes you forget?’.

Alexia is granted a tuck-in and a story for each child, glad that their rooms are separate so that her time in her home is prolonged. The walls are familiar, the floor is the same. There are new pictures in new frames, but the old ones have not been removed. If you had ever wished to take photographs of your relationship down, you have never acted on it.

She realises you must not spend a lot of time here alone. Maybe you cannot bear it. Maybe your life in London is more important to you than she had thought.

Anyway, for as much as she subtly noses around and draws out the night, she has no intention of overstaying her welcome, sure that she probably did that the minute she stepped inside.

In fact, she is on her way out, under the assumption that you will not want to speak to her.

“So you’re back to playing?”

“Sí.”

A doorway conversation.

You’re English. You’re very polite. Alexia knows this, tries to not get her hopes up.

“Does that mean you don’t want a taste of this ‘97?” You hold the bottle up to her, the cork lying on the granite worktop with the incriminating suggestion that you have already had a glass.

“We play the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.”

How many times have you said that to her before? The same tone, the same look in your eye; red tinting your lips, one hand on a lighter because you smoke when you’re drunk, even if you refuse to touch the cancer-sticks when you are sober.

“Was this a gift?” she asks, drawn into your magnetic field like a flimsy paper clip; thin, worn metal trying to piece the pages of her life back together. “Or have you been making ridiculous purchases again?”

“I can assure you that it is not ‘ridiculous’.” You moan in delight as you take a sip from a glass you subsequently hand over to her. “Gosh, that is divine, and you are simply going to dissolve when you taste it.”

Dissolve she does, but one can attribute that to the company.

The contents of the bottle dwindles quickly, paired with a vulnerable retelling of her ACL recovery (sans suicidal thoughts and huge, huge regret about the affair – she doesn’t want to bring that up, seeing as you are clearly trying to forget about it), and the warm breeze of the Barcelona nighttime. The salty air from the mediterranean mingles with cigarette smoke, though Alexia softly says that you really should stop.

You hesitate on your next puff, but you inhale it all the same. “I like my wine smokey.”

She opens the next bottle for you.

The wine glasses are soon discarded, pouring becoming shaky and difficult.

“They sleep all the way through the night here,” observes Alexia, surprised that no little hands have knocked on the glass door leading to the balcony. The last time you had reached for the wine, you’d moved closer to her. You have not yet returned to your original seat on the other side of the rattan sofa.

You raise your eyebrows, under the impression that they were both sleep trained. “They don’t at yours?”

“Elena keeps trying to sleep in bed with me.”

“Maybe she likes you more,” you suggest with a light, alcohol-infused laugh. “She must have been upset to find her place filled by your friend.”

“No,” murmurs Alexia, “it has never been filled. Though I don’t think you can say the same.”

You swallow the stickiness of the wine running down your throat.

“Not in our bed. My bed.” You fight yourself. “Our bed.”

“In Highgate?”

“Anywhere,” you breathe.

“It’s been months,” croaks Alexia, your hand pressed against her stomach as you slowly lean into the feeling only she can give you. “Months.”

You kiss her. Time folds in on itself, and you are transported back to when every touch was electric; when nothing was tainted. The pain of the past months, the heartbreak, momentarily fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in Alexia’s warmth.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, afraid that this moment might slip away too soon. The taste of wine lingers on your lips, and she craves the softness of them – she has been craving them since July.

“Well, now it has only been seconds,” you whisper as you pull away.

With a sense of urgency, she chases your mouth once more, strong arms pulling you on top of her, manipulating your body against her with no hint of uncertainty.

Alexia knows you well.

Her touch lacks curiosity and exploration. Her hands are experienced and confident in their movements, and she has hoisted you up and brought you to your bedroom without needing to have been told that this is what you want.

“Is this what you want?” she asks anyway.

“Please.”

And she really doesn’t make you beg.

Your hands roam her body with a primal hunger, instinctive touches to the most sensitive parts of her, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her back is tense, muscles flexing as she pushes your clothes off your skin, her own following their path soon after.

Parted legs and soft moans.

She slots herself between your thighs.

Her tongue is determined, fierce. Sloppier because she is drunk, but, then again, so are you.

Your fingers repay the favour.

“More,” you request just as she pulls away.

“Is it in the same place?”

You nod, panting.

There is a playful glint in Alexia’s eyes as she finds the strap just where she left it. As she secures it in place, you wipe the sweat from your brow, forcing your mind into the dirtiest of thoughts to ward off the building regret.

The room is dimly lit, and the air heavy with desire. Your heartbeat pulses in the silence, the thrum of the organ drums that guide Alexia’s slow, deliberate steps back towards the bed, kneeling atop the scrunched sheets.

She positions herself between your legs once more, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating against your skin. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck, sending shivers of anticipation shuddering down your spine.

With trembling hands, you reach out, nails digging into tanned, taut skin. You pull her closer to you, urging her to take whatever she wants.

You want her to have you. You want her to make it hurt less.

As Alexia presses inside, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body. You cry out, the sound igniting a blazing inferno within her that grows hotter the moment you ask her to move. Feverishly, her hands move over your chest, finding purchase on your breasts with a dormant possessiveness as her hips begin to drive the strap in deeper.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, encompassed by someone so divine that you begin to separate yourself from all things wrong with this situation. The headboard thuds against the bedroom wall as she pounds her thrusts into a rhythm, and you shut your eyes as you quietly ask her to kiss you.

Tears cascade down your cheeks, but you do not know to whom they belong. Her tongue smothers your moans, and her hips begin to snap into yours more urgently, with more desperation. The pressure builds inside of you, and you feel as though you might explode.

You feel as though this is the end, and you are glad that here is where your misery terminates.

You’re glad, you’re really glad.

Your back arches, your chests pressing together, large hands holding you close to her.

And then it all comes crashing down.

Everything.

You wipe your eyes once the orgasmic bliss subsides, seizing your wine haze as the tide goes out and destroying the blindfold that had deprived you of seeing things straight. Right now, with the pleasant ache between your legs, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it, but you know you will. You haven’t forgiven her; you’re not sure that it is possible.

“You can shower, but you can’t stay here.”

…

Nico knows that he is special. He is lucky, and he is loved, and he gets to go to a very nice school that Mateo (his ‘cousin’) claims is fancy.

He likes his teacher. She reminds him of someone he once knew – you have suggested the nursery helpers back when he lived in London. He is not sure if you are right, but he doesn’t remember what London was like so he tries not to think too hard about it.

Nico’s friends, like Pau who is sitting beside him, all think it is really cool that he can speak English. Pau says she hears his mother on the radio sometimes, but Nico hasn’t yet grasped the concept of fame past the annoying camera flashes and big, sold-out stadiums. He dislikes fame as he knows it, anyway, because the cameras hurt his eyes and the stadiums are so loud that he has to wear ear-defenders that squeeze his skull a bit too much.

“My mum is from Bilbao. My dad is from Barcelona,” states Paula as she swipes a crayon over the sheet of paper her drawing is on. Green wax slowly stains the white to form ‘grass’. Everyone is drawing their family today, although Nico hasn’t yet started, waiting for his teacher to circle their table so that he can ask for another piece of paper. “And this,” Paula carries on, squiggling brown hair onto a smaller version of the stick-figure father, “is Ander, my big brother.”

“Who is that?” Nico asks, pointing at the fifth figure on the page, guessing that the fourth and Pau-sized person is, in fact, Pau.

“My sister! She’s called Nerea, and she plays basketball.” Pau promptly makes an orange circle the size of Nerea’s head, which floats in the air between her and her sister. “My mum says Nere is going to be a lesbian, but I don’t know what that means.”

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to garner the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.”

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?”

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.”

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.”

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.”

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with.

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue.

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares.

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all.

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her.

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that.

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.”

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together tot el temps. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.”

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already attracted the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia is usually inviting him to training with her. Since Elena has yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, his mother misses him when it is not her turn.

You benevolently give your permission if you have no prior plans. It is upsetting that the only hindrance to extra time spent together is the little boy who once worshipped Alexia Putellas like a god.

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper.

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half.

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s.

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?”

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.”

“But now you are ripped down the middle.”

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One of his legs is on your side, the other on Alexia’s.

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.”

Alexia does, though, when his teacher talks to her that afternoon.

…

“I slept with Alexia,” you confess quietly, comforted by the sound-proofing of Anya’s home-studio. She asked for help with her album; your success might be contagious, she insists. “Last week, when Nico had that recital.” You clutch your mug protectively, as if she will strip you of the right to drink your tea to punish you for your crime.

Anya is unsure what you would like her to say. You search her face for anger, but do not find it.

“If Gio were here, she’d probably slap you.”

You snort, almost spilling hot liquid all over yourself. “You two are like my mothers, and you’re the nicer one by far.”

“God, you are such an idiot.”

“And a slag.” She waits for your next admission with excitement. “I also slept with Leah Williamson.”

“Do you think you and Alexia are just destined for polyamory?” Her amusement is quite pleasant, but one thing wasn’t dulled by the wine that night and you have been dying to tell someone about it.

Your knee bounces up and down as you gear up for it, having thought it through

“I think we are destined for each other.”

Song-writing be damned, Anya fully removes her headphones, placing the equipment beside her keyboard before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “You are in love with Alexia again,” comes her accusation, with no real malice behind it.

“I never stopped being in love with Alexia. She just made it a lot harder to love her.”

Is that an understatement?

“Hey,” you say with sudden energy, sitting upright and grasping at your phone, tea wobbling over the lip of the mug and running down your wrist. “Should we go to Bali in August?”

…

You avoid both of your footballers right until the World Cup camps roll around.

Leah doesn’t get to go, subjected to the ACL curse. Alexia’s call-up is not necessarily unexpected, but you do find yourself wondering how many more betrayals her friendship with Mapi León can handle. (Mapi is on her last straw, but she knows her friend really needed the win after her hellish year. The Champion’s League was never going to sate Alexia’s hunger to be the best at football – possibly an overcompensation for her terrible relationship skills.)

Your children, this time, are delivered to the park by their very own mother. Alexia beats Leah in this sense, because she has a valid excuse to see you without confessing feelings you do not want to hear.

“I have something for you,” she says just after she has finished her goodbyes, pressing a small box into your hands. Her voice is filled with nerves and you are intrigued, hating yourself for being so. “Don’t open it until you get back home.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. I’m sorry, they seem to say. “Alright, have fun in Bali, and don’t forget that I legally have custody but I am not going to go to court to battle you for it as long as you put them in Spain kits for Spain matches.”

She could, if she wanted to be difficult, have you send Nico and Elena to New Zealand during her weeks. It would be very unreasonable, but the contract your lawyers drew up still stands.

“They were delivered yesterday. I think it’s going to be a struggle to convince them to put on the worst kit ever.” You still don’t forgive Alexia for cheating on you, but there has come a point where acceptance replaces the animosity. Nico’s teacher has been the catalyst in this step forward. The developmental pamphlets she had thrust in your faces were enough for the two of you to come to a mutual agreement of increased civility (that maybe, maybe was only made possible by the fact that you have very recent memories of each other’s orgasms). “But, yes, I agree to your terms. Don’t forget that his favourite player is Alessia Russo, however.”

“He is in a phase where I am ‘uncool’! It’ll pass.”

“If you say so, Alexia.”

“Anyway,” she carries on, rolling her eyes. “Open it when you get home.” She… presses a kiss to your cheek? “I’m so sorry, mi amor.”

You blink back your surprise, but she is gone before you can reply.

The small, neatly-wrapped box sits in the palm of your hand, the corners edging off your skin and sticking out as you stare at it. Nico and Elena continue their (unsupervised) playing, but you manage to call out a warning for ‘five more minutes and then we’ve got to pack’ while you examine Alexia’s gift.

Is this how Pandora felt?

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

Alexia, before now, hasn’t actively pursued your forgiveness. She has given you the time and the space you had broken-heartedly requested, nodding as you communicated your wishes to her through someone else, never before able to confront the face that tore up your life before your eyes.

There was a time when all you ever wanted to do was talk to her, but she tried to forget about that when she realised the extent at which you went to avoid an interaction. When she had understood your desperation to be left alone fully, she began to breathe. The step backwards gave her room to examine just how royally she had fucked it all.

She now feels a bit more capable of tackling the clean-up, working with a much clearer mind. Everyone is relieved that she hasn’t killed herself, or, at least, that she is keeping those thoughts at bay.

You realise that she has bought you a ring, and regardless of whether you wear it or not, she wants to tell you that she is sorry.

...

IT'S NOT OVER YET! THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SECOND HALF

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso fanfics #randombush3 #leah williamson x reader #woso imagines #barca femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine

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preeningpisces · 1 month

Text

Geto NSFW Headcanons

Im gonna try not to be biased because this is my main bitch right here 🖤

Lemme know if you want me to elaborate or write about any of these headcanons

(literally any ask about Geto will make me do somersaults—backflips, even)

18+ content below the cut, mdni, implied chubby f!reader

Pre-Incident

꩜ Geto is interesting because before he snaps and after he snaps feel like two different vibes in regards to sex

꩜ Doting, almost like a service-dom. He likes taking care of you, but he also prefers to have control. Though not so controlling that he can’t ever be submissive

꩜ Major smooth-talker, like Gojo said, he has a silver tongue. Likes a mixture of praise and degradation. The degradation is usually teasing, and doesn’t extend past the usual slut, whore, etc. range…usually

꩜ Sometimes it comes out corny tho lmfao pls roast him when it does

꩜ Good at making you feel sexy. The type that will kiss you all over, giving extra affection to areas you aren’t as fond of. It’s difficult at first, but with time you become more comfortable

꩜ Very sensual, and intimate. He has good self-control, & is very patient so he can draw things out & drive you crazy. Like he can spend all-too-long just toying with your mouth, denying you the kiss you so desperately want. Barely brushing your lips and teeth with his thumb, before pinching your tongue between fingers. Wowee

꩜ Refuses to kiss you after absorbing curses. Even though no one else can taste them, the thought of tasting like that is enough for for him to refuse; he doesn’t want you to go through it too. Also, tasting shit-vomit in your mouth doesn’t exactly get the schlong schlinging, yknow

꩜ I suspect absorbing curses gives him an immediate surge of negative emotions, so he usually needs space. Sometimes he just wants to hold you, or be held, in silence

꩜ Can be surprisingly playful in bed

꩜ Really likes fucking you from below. Smooshing your soft breasts and stomach against him, and feeling your weight on top of him. Holding you still so he can rail you while whispering sappy, dirty shit in your ear. I’m passing out someone help

꩜ I’ve been poisoned by the perv!geto fics on here, and can’t see him as not being a secret pervert. Just slightly. It takes a while for him to reveal that side to you, since he tries to appear refined and respectable

꩜ Definitely the type that likes music in the background; I see him as someone who cares about music a lot in general. You know he likes you if he’s sharing song recs

꩜ Lots of playlists, and even has a few sex playlists with different moods. Usually prefers things that are chill, but has a few harder-hitting songs—this is why he needs the playlists, lol. He doesn’t like when the vibe changes too much

꩜ One time you sneak Cbat onto his playlist & make him laugh so much he loses his boner. At that point did you really win? Hmm?

꩜ Tbh he’s got game & is aware of it. You gotta humble him occasionally or else he becomes insufferable

Post-Incident

꩜ This Geto is a lot more self-centered, aggressive, and sadistic in bed. I wouldn’t say he’s a tyrant tho

꩜ Will legit punish you when you disobey, no funishments here. Big into humiliation

꩜ My heart is telling me shibari, especially the kind that can be hidden beneath clothes. Particular about the color, and will pick ones that flatter your skin tone. Obsessed with the way the ropes pinch and dig into your soft body. He’ll bite and squeeze the parts that spill over the ropes

꩜ One punishment would be walking around secretly tied up, but the style where one of the ropes rubs against your pussy as you walk. It sounds nice at first, but that bitch is gonna chafe for sure

꩜ He’s more selfish than before, yes, but he still maintains a proclivity for doting—we all see how he spoils his daughters! It’s like, he gets his turn first, and when it’s your turn, it's your turn. Multiple orgasm king. He’ll do it until you’re sobbing tho, so pray for your pussy

꩜ Loves making you choke on his cock—gets kind of intense with the bjs. Mfer needs to chill (and buy you some throat lozenges)

꩜ Doggystyle is his favorite without a doubt, he just wants to pin your face to the bed and watch your ass bounce

꩜ A lot of the previous stuff is still applicable to some degree, but I think he has a lot less patience at this point, and is waaaay more into degradation & domination

꩜ He gets legitimately mean sometimes lmfao it’s like you gotta have 2 safewords: one for physical intensity level, and the other for bullying level 😭

꩜ Would he sleep with a non-sorcerer? Honestly, I can’t decide. If he did tho, he would be SO FUCKING MEAN I don’t even want to think about it !!!

꩜ Does he use monkey in bed unironically?? Chat pls advise

#geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x chubby reader #jjk smut #chubby reader #divider by benkeibear #god i wrote so much for him #the favoritism is wild #dreams of geto ☁︎#headcanons ☽#geto headcanons #dreams ☽#wet dreams ☽

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thesherrinfordfacility · 6 months

Note

Hi! I saw your tags on a post talking about car trouble as one of the great good omens fics and I've put it on my tbr! I wasn't really active in the fandom after season 1 so I feel like I missed out on all the great fics. I know about Demonology and Slow Show and I know about others from Aziraphale'sLibrary from their classics tag. But I was wondering what your list would be, your list of what the best and greatest good omens fics are. I'm young, so I have time to read lol

GASPS I HAVE RECS COMING OUT MY EARS @queenofthearchipelago, BUCKLE UP KID💕

this will be a mixture of genres and a lot of them are well known so may well already be on the AL classic lists (but, well, theyre classics for a reason imo) but im just gonna dump them here; these are literally just off the top of my head so won't be very coherent/in order - i'll give the links and ratings, but will leave you to peruse the synopses directly (most will be human AUs, they're my particular favourites), just to save making what will be a huge post even longer!!!

Car Trouble (E)

Petrichor and Parchment (E)

Memory of Eden (M) (and its sequels - imo The heartbreak series of all time. i sob like a baby) (it's written pre-s1 release, so book!omens, but i find it relatively easy to re-imagine if tv!omens is how you imagine them too etc) (no seriously if i ever get any fic professionally bound into a physical book, it's this series)

For Want of a Seed (T) (and also a huge shout out to Right of It also by cassieoh but it's unfinished - ive had it open as a tab in my phone for like a year? in the fervent hope it'll be updated, which fair enough if it isn't!!! but it's beauuuutiful)

Stranger in Paradise (E)

Infernal Bodyguard (M)

Wicked Thing series (E) (and anything by phoenix_soar, frankly. just... damn🫠)

i then also want to shout out a couple of fics from some amazing people on tumblr here (listed in no particular order!) which you may have already seen? but definitely worth mentioning because they're similarly insaneeee:

Shoot to Thrill and Learning on the Job (both E) and tbh anything by @teddybearbutchh, otherworldly affinity for not only writing in general, she's so talented, but her smut is 🫠

How Do We Turn On The Light? (M) by @moonyinpisces is soooo good as a post-s2 fic, she's really captured how i personally imagine aziraphale and crowley to act after the feral domestic, i love her characterisation!

The Loophole (E) by @fellshish is a different take post-s2 but incredibly funny and the apology dance is. life changing

Chemistry (E) by @twilightcitysky, i simply revisit their works time and time again, but this one is a particular favourite!!!

and im sure there are some lovelies that might read this and want to add their recommendations too, or self promote???💕✨ but these are my faves, like i said, right off the top of my head!!!

#good omens #ask

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causeilikelix · 3 months

Note

hii im the anon who sent the hard dom lixie post ,, and i totally think ur right !! i also feel after that event..hes a lil bit more touchy with u !! just to help get the point across

also idk if u take anons but just would love to be 🐹 anon if you do !! if not thats totally ok , im literally just eating up everything u post

omg hi!!! Yes, you can totally be 🐹 anon! I've never had one before tbh so welcome!!! The support means so much to me! tbh I wish I posted more lol but writers block exists.

Except for right now cause WOW

Part 2 to this ask, but it doesn't necessarily have to be read to understand this

MINORS DNI!!!! Smut under the cut! I............................ got carried away. Warnings under the cut

YES totally. Lix is already a pretty touchy-feely person so like you showing interest in him being a little more dominant and, dare I saw, possessive would really turn on the Clingy.

(banner credit @cafekitsune)

(Warnings: established relationship, dom!Felix?, dirty talk, semi public sex, unprotected sex (it's only fun in fiction), creampie, afab!reader)

This man needs all of his friends (and your friends) to know that you're his. Unless you ask him not to for whatever reason, Felix would mark you up every. time. I mean, first of all it feels amazing to have his lips on you. So pillowy and soft and the way he sucks on your neck is just heavenly!

Any time you hang out with his friends this man has his hands on you in one way or another. He's constantly back hugging you, holding your hand, cuddling with on the couch, whatever. Sometimes, he'd lean over and whisper the filthiest shit into your ear just to make you blush.

"You look so hot in this dress, baby. Who'd you wear it for?"

"I bet you'd love for me to bend you over the couch and take you right here, huh? Want the guys to see how well you take me."

"Sweet girl, I bet your soaked right now. I can practically smell you."

It doesn't take him long to convince you to either leave the gathering or sneak off to the bathroom with him. All of his dirty talk is, in fact, soaking through your underwear. That deep voice of his gets you every fucking time.

The other boys roll their eyes and turn up the music when Felix drags you back to the bathroom. The bass helps drown out the yelp that falls from your mouth the second Felix flips up the skirt of your dress to run his fingertips along the gusset of your panties. He moans into your mouth when he feels how wet you are.

"Filthy girl, I knew you were wet." He growls.

"You always make me wet." You grin at him

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he slips his fingers into your panties to touch you properly. You moan instantly at the contact. "Babe, you've gotta let me fuck you. I'm so hard I don't think I'll make it home."

"But the guys-'

"Don't pretend like you didn't love them listening in last time. I remember how tight your cunt clamped on to me when you heard them turn the TV off. C'mon baby, please. I need you so bad." Felix rocks his hips into yours a little and sure enough you can feel his hardness poking at your stomach. It makes your mouth water and your pussy clench at the thought of fucking him here.

"One condition." You whisper as he starts to press hot kisses into your neck. His fingers slide into your heat with no resistance and you choke back a moan.

"Anything."

"Don't pull out this time."

At this, he pulls away from you to look you in the eye. At first, you worry that he's going to pull away completely. The motions of his fingers inside you slow to a stop but he doesn't take them out. His eyebrows furrow.

"Are you serious?"

You'd talked about the risks before, and it wasn't like he hadn't done it before but it wasn't something super common in your relationship.

"Deadly serious." You gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in, "Don't you want us to go back out there to your friends, your cum dripping down my legs to show them once and for all that you're not as soft as they think you are?"

Felix's eyes darkened immediately.

"Ask and you shall receive, baby." He growled.

He grabbed your waist and roughly spun you around and bent you over the bathroom sink. Your panties are discarded around one ankle before he's nudging your legs apart. Excitement sparks through your bloodstream when you hear Felix messing with the button and zipper on his jeans.

A few moments later, something hot swipes through your folds. You moan as the head of his dick nudges against your clit a few times. He teases you by nudging your clit then moving up to press against your hole before taking it away to nudge your clit again.

You swear you've never been so empty in your life.

"Felix, I swear, if you don't fuck me right no- ah!" You let out a sudden moan when Felix finally pressed his cock into you. He suck in slowly, letting you feel every single inch. When his hips meet your ass, you moan again.

"Good girl, let them hear you. I knew you wanted to act like a little slut. You wanted me to fuck you where they could hear you, huh? Let everyone know how well you take cock" Felix moans, the noise going straight to your clit.

He always feels so good inside of you. It's like his cock was made to stretch you open. His thrusts are slow at first, getting you used to him despite how many times you've taken him. He pants against your neck and you rock back onto him.

"Fuck you feel so good, baby, your little cunt always takes me so well." Felix compliments, his hands kneading your ass and thighs. One hand circles up to brush through your folds. Your cunt clenches the second he finds your clit. "You're so tight! How is any of my cum going to fit inside you?"

You open your mouth to answer him but all that comes out is a moan. He rocks into you steadily and he circles your clit with two fingers. It isn't long before your thighs begin to tremble and the knot in your stomach pulls taut.

"Aw," he chides, "Are you gonna cum on my cock, beautiful? Come on, baby, cream for me, yeah?"

It doesn't take much else. It never does. Felix plays your body like an instrument. He always knows just where to touch, just what to say, just where to angle the head of his cock to get you to fall apart for him. You cum, squeezing him tightly. He moans through your orgasm, holding onto his own so he can ride yours out.

"Good girl," he praises, "Make a mess on my cock. When we get home I'll have you clean me up. Fuck! Pussy gets so tight when she cums."

If there's one thing Felix loves, it's feeling every single moment of your orgasm. The way your legs shake, the way your pussy quivers and tightens, the way your wetness leaves a shimmering sheen on his cock. He swears he can never get enough of you.

As your orgasm wanes, his thrusts speed up. He moans into your ear and every sound makes you clench. You wonder if you could cum again. His thrusts are quick and deep. Your pussy aches and throbs but in the best way possible. Overstimulation sparks through your veins, but part of you wonders if it's just another orgasm creeping up on you.

"Fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last. Tell me where you want me to cum. Now!" He threads a hand into your hair so he can tilt your head to see your fucked-out face. The drool seeping from your lips and your hooded eyes make his orgasm threaten to spill without warning.

"In-" A particularly harsh thrust makes you moan, "Inside. Please! Please cum inside. "

"So tight! Fuck, fuck, cumming!"

And he does. He pushes himself into you as deep as he possibly can and releases his orgasm right against your cervix. The warmth makes your cunt pulse and you reach down to rub your clit. A circle or two later, you fall into another orgasm that squeezes him to coax more of him into you.

Felix rocks his hips into you a few more times to unload every generous spurt of cum inside you before finally pulling out.

He puts his hands on your ass cheeks and spreads you open. You blush when you feel his eyes on your spent hole. You wait for the telltale feeling of some of the warmth in your cunt to slip out, but nothing does. After a minute, Felix lands a soft smack on your ass before pulling your panties back up your legs.

"Come on, I've got you." Felix coaxes you to stand up and turn back around. Your legs quiver and you hold onto him. "You held it all in, baby. Nothing's leaking out."

"Guess you'll have to give me some more to make sure it slides down my legs." You quip, even though you know you probably couldn't take more right now.

"Maybe next time, angel. This time I want you to make sure you keep every drop in there. I'll check later and if you've let a single drop go to waste, I'll give you refill after refill until you can't hold it anymore. " Felix's voice sent a shiver down your spine, "Think you can handle that?"

You're nodding and clenching your thighs before he's even done talking.

"Good girl."

#🐹 anon #an ask!#felix smut #yongbok smut #lee felix smut #skz felix smut #stray kids smut #ellie writes #skz smut #kpop smut #got carried away #enjoy lol #lee yongbok smut

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bitchimasnake-sss · 6 months

Text

"i thought you got possessed-" ft. luffy!

ft. luffy x fem!reader

set-up: you're pms-ing and he is such a dumbass. but that doesn't mean he isn't out here being the bestest boy ever. (please excuse his dumbassery, he was dropped on his head as a child)

warnings: none! very wholesome lol

- please dont get confused, this man has no idea how periods work - like how is it humanly possible for you to bleed and then stay alive and kicking? seems made up tbh - one eventful evening (before you both started dating), you and nami had to sit him down and give him a long-ass biology lesson, explaining what the whole phenomenon is, what pms-ing is and yada-yada - before this, he firmly believed that every once a while a demon possessed you all (and he saw absolutely no issue with that, what a fucking icon) "ohhh" he's laughing, "so that's what it is? i thought you guys like got possessed" "excuse me?" nami's on the verge to hit him in the head again and you're wondering if the constant hits are the reason luffy's braincells are (half) dead "i see, i see. i get it now" - he lied, he still doesn't quite get it - but its fine - so, it is just another random tuesday and (post-dating) you know syou love luffy. but holy shit, if he yelled "YN DOLPHIN!! LOOK LOOK A DOLPHIN! SUGEEEEEE" and giggled again, you might yell at him. you really do love him but if he stole your food one more time, you're convinced you might smack him too. "luffy" your voice was unusually low, devoid of any warmth, "stop that." "whatt" he whined, grinning afterwards as he scooped up more food from your plate "luffy. i said STOP IT." your voice rose higher and silence hung uncomfortably over the dinner table - luffy just looks at you dumbfounded - the way you're fisting your hand on the table and looking at him has the crew afraid that youre gonna murder the captain in cold blood - well, i mean ur considering the possibility too, so, you mumble a half-ass apology and return back to your room to be alone - lying against the soft sheets, you can smell the citrus detergent and oh boy, now you feel guilty - i mean god, that's luffy, that was nothing out of the ordinary for him. why did you yell at him? fuck, are you a horrible girlfriend?? - oh boy, now the tears are welling up too - "yn?" luffy whispers as he slips into the room, closing the door behind him and now you're really crying - i mean look at him, why did you yell at him? - "im so sorry, i don't know why i yelled at you, that was so shitty of me-" "hey, it's okay" he's hugging you tight, "you did nothing wrong, i can be a little bit dumb sometimes. i should have not taken your food" "what? no, i am not mad about that. i, i dunno-" you sniff, "maybe i'm just pms-ing?" "huh??" - took a while for him to remember but now that you've jogged up his memory, he looks so guilty, so, he spends the entire evening apologizing and offering you food, he even promises that he wouldn't point out dolphins every time he sees them (you had to reassure him that he can continue doing that)

- but now onwards, this lovely himbo tries to keep in check what he's saying, often giving you a lingering look as if asking "this is fine right?"

- but now you've got your personal defender!! - ussop made a joke and you're not laughing (because it wasn't that funny tbh) and luffy is ready to smack ussop and tell him to "not annoy" you. zoro is being dumb and luffy can see it on your face that he's pissing you off lowkey, so, he will actually tell zoro to not be a dick - mf just starts picking up fights left and right for your sake and now you have to give him another long ass lesson to make it stop - ps: he does not stop. - this man turns into a chihuahua, anything bothering you must be struck down. - very, very observant from now on too. he needs to make sure you're feeling good - also asked sanji to make your favourite desert - he just loves you so much and wants you to be as comfortable as possible (still doesn't know how female anatomy works though-)

a/n: omg i luv him such a dumbass

zoro's link <3 sanji's link <3

#one piece #monster trio #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #zoro x reader #sanji x reader

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

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-vine boom

I probably sent a lot of these now im so sorry lmfao 😅

You mentioned in one of the asks that some countries are like a prototype/based of our existing countries, like Germany=Mondstadt, Liyue=China, Inzauma=Japan....

So even though the language is more or less identical for you to make heads and tails in a conversation or writing in a book, the reverse side does not.

Creator!Reader who knows a couple of languages (plus points if they're atleast fluent or have a understanding of it despite not being able to speak said language) and being born from a country that doesnt have the same language as the countries Teyvat based off. Basically Spanish, Italian, Filipino, Scandinavian languages that also have their own way of writing.

Imagine feeling homesick and the only thing that keeps you occupied is the notebook and pen you have while the others converse in a meeting or in a hangout. You started writing in your tongue and re-reading it to relive memories.

Zhongli, AlHaitham, Albedo, Jean, maybe the Berry bros too (Diluc & Kaeya) get curious only to have a double-take and immediately thinks that maybe there is a forgotten land in Teyvat that has this language, I mean Morax stayed faithful to Liyue and Barbatos blessed his country with abundance of supplies and freedom. Teyvat gods and archons played favourites, so why wouldn't you as well? (Bonus: Khaenriah flashbacks) (also I know these arent enough characters but how should I know? I only have a handful of them and I ran out of Primos😭

The people from Akademiya though? I mean they went hard on theorizing and picking apart the language of their creator. Have you seen Matpat's descent to insanity the more FNAF continues to push out LoRe? Thats basically them because Teyvat doesn't have a country based on Creator's birth country. They're grasping nothing but air and dead ends and the only lead they have is you, but couldnt ask because you look so down and they cant bear to see Creator sad....

(NEW BANNER TOMORROW AND I DONT HAVE ENOGH PRIMOGEMS HALP---)

Rip Vine boom no primos 🙏 hope u got some more by this time bc i was so late to reply lol - DUDE IM SO READY FOR THE GORG KAVEH <333

BERRY BROS!! Thats it, thats the only way im gonna refer to them now.

Not super long to add onto ur bc UR SO SMART AND SUCH A GOOD WRITER VINEBOOM U SHOULD ALSO WRITE STUFF SO I CAN GO OBSESS OVER UR WRITING WITH A MILLION FERAL COMMENTS-!!!

(Cute owl house gif is like, metaphorially u and zhongli in this lol)

EDIT 8/23/23: So this may be inaccurate/not that good to my Hispanic Readers out there! Sorry about that, I'l make sure to do better in the future.

EDIT 1/1/24: Unfortunately there are even more issues here, and I'm really sorry about that. I expanded on it more in my Eldritch fanfic post in Part 2, but it was exoticism of me to use the word "Huangdi". I have since replaced it with "Emperor", and don't intend to just erase the mistake like it never happened. But I did change it in the headcanons for better readability. Again, I'm genuninely sorry about this, and will absolutely be watching out/doing better in the future. I hope you understand.

THIS SOUNDS SO SAD, LIKE THIS COULD DEF BE ANGST, ESP SINCE U HAVE NO FAMILIAR-ISH CULTURE TO TURN TO-

tbh im american and i def dont think theres a u.s. country- oh god at least I hope not, damn but im also familiar with mexican culture so i wouldnt miss the united states, but id miss mexican culture…

BUT!!

You have a lot of amazing people who care about you in Teyvat, so they won’t let you stew in ur homesickness for long

like random said, i could see it being small stuff

ok so imma just-

LATINO! READER TIME BABBYYYYY

(i do this bc its just the culture/language im more familiar with, but dont let that discourage anyone from requesting other cultures! I will def do my research, or ur welcome to tell me all about it so i can write it better! <3)

THAT BEING SAID IM MOSTLY WHITE PLS LMK IF SHIT IS WRONG/SPANISH IS WRONG BC IM STILL A BEGINNER MY BELOVED LATINES!

<3 YOU GUYS

♡

you’ve been in the game-turned-life world of Genshin Impact for nearly 6 months now, turns out time isnt wonky as hell like it is if you were playing the game, half bc u bribed Albedo with answers to his many questions about you if he figured out the time difference, and half bc of ur internal clock

people would notice the cuss words first lmao

like Xiao hearing u stubbing ur toe on the million and one steps up to Wangshu Inn, hijueputa!

or Keqing pointing out the words you coo at the dogs hanging out by the bridge outside the harbor,

un perrito tan buenoooo!! :’)

while most would just, " hmm, maybe a dialect of one of the other countries we havent heard…"

but Zhongli? he’s been ready for centuries in case the prophecy came true within his lifetime, afterall, many things changed while he’s been alive, not crazy to him that you might descend randomly

While everyone else was unprepared, bc u were like… the oldest deity, more legend than history, so ppl just thought Morax was a little overly faithful …so when it actually happened,, Morax was just smirking as he watched ur golden shooting star streak the night sky… while absolute pandemonium consumed the mortals and adepti in liyue lmao

(like that scene of Regina George in Mean Girls watching the student body break out into an all out brawl just smirking 😭 pls god look it up if u dont know what i mean- )

So Morax- Zhongli, has been ready for you, just in case, to pay attention to what kind of person you’d be, learn your favorite clothes/colors/offerings, see what things you’d like to talk about with him (hopefully for hours) etc.

He was observant, and with his memory, he practically gave himself headaches sometimes with how aware he was,

on one of those days he was overwhelmed by the mortal crowds, the smells, the market yelling, and all the change from what he thought he knew-

Zhongli noticed you in your own melancholy, and curious, he began to stroll just behind

You sit at Wanmin restaurant, still somber, and ask Xiangling to

“please try out these recipes? they’re from my world, and id really love to have something like them again..”

a true experimental chef as always, Xiangling quickly takes up your offer, and u follow her into the kitchens in the back (the restaurant is much more real than in game, they have gorgeous inside seating, all shades of red coloring the walls and lots of pretty latticework-)

Zhongli takes a seat finally, he has a usual table at this point he comes in so much coughtorunintoyoucough the staff know it's his and give him tea pretty quickly

the food, and the looks, makes it your favorite restaurant in Liyue, the Liuli Pavilion a little too fancy for casual dining, afterall, Zhongli would know

He’s tried to keep track of your favorite places to be in Liyue too, and kept his near full attention on what you say when he asks after your stays in Liyue (he hasn’t felt the need to pay that much attention or felt that much interest in conversation partners in… decades?)

So when you come out of the kitchen, throwing your head back and laughing, "Sí, sí! It all tastes so close Xiangling! Gracias, thank you!"

He wants… to know.

to know what those strange, but delicious looking, foods are all balanced on two big dinner plates

Xiangling carrying whatever you couldn’t just behind, a pitcher of white liquid, it smells, like cinnamon?

He raises a hand, and offers the extra seats at his table, (when did his tea go cold? he only just sat down, he couldn’t have spent that long thinking about you…)

You notice and look over, a giddy grin lighting up your face (…hmm, perhaps he needs to transform into his Exuvia form and let off some steam, his chest has warmed too much right now for him to just be sitting here…)

You plop into the seat beside him, but not before carefully placing the plates in front of both you and Zhongli

You scootch around until you’re turned towards him, as always, Zhongli looks… actually kind of, happy?

a small soft smile pulls at his lips, his eyes half-lidded as they meet yours, his usual red eyeliner framing his monolids perfectly, he looks like he’s been,, well, sculpted from stone, an artwork come to life

“…My Emperor? Could I trouble you to tell me about the dishes before us?”

the geo god’s pleasantly smooth and deep voice felt so soft asking you that, like he didn’t want to push you one direction or the other

“Oh! Right! Sorry, these are from my home country, back in my world, or at least, as close as Xiangling and I can get to them!”

Your smile brightens your face once more, clearing away any leftover stormclouds from your mood earlier, and as you launch into explaining (Xiangling had to get back to orders, so it’s just you two now)

You list it all, the quintessential: quesadillas, empanadas, tamales, chorizo (you had to combine at least 5 different spices to Mondstadt sausages to get anywhere close to the real thing) the dips obviously, salsa, queso, guacamole, and the easy street tacos, and finally the horchata, but also all the weird fruits Teyvat has with chile, like Sunsettias mixed with Harra from Sumeru or Lavender melons with Wolfhook berries… all surpringly pretty good

(the Sun-Harra combo tastes like mango, a sort of deeper taste of pineapple/kiwi and a sort of light orange taste? all with the nice addition of chile flavors, the Lavender melons and Wolfhooks helped imitate chamoy enough that your heart was satisfied)

…you realize you’ve just been talking about the last meal you had with your family/friends instead of the food after a bit, and Zhongli hasn’t said anything…

you trail off and look back over your shoulder (u were practically about to get your shirt in the imitation guac u were leaning so far over the table to point and talk)

you’re about to sheepishly apologize for taking over the conversation, and ask if he wants to try anything (Zhongli can handle spice so u dont have to worry abt that at least)

but as u finally see his face, u just stop, and dont end up saying anything

He’s just, looking at you.

his smile's not huge, but big enough to make his eyes look happy, and Zhongli’s just… looking at you.

You can’t describe the look he’s giving you, but you suddenly feel… a wave of shyness wash over your heart in your chest, because he’s looking almost like, maybe like, he’s sort of, waiting for you to keep talking, his tan skin warm in the golden rays of the sun beginning to set, you don’t know why you’re noticing any of these things, and he gently, slowly, makes a move to lean into your space a little

almost above your armrest, head inches from your shoulder, he finally moves to stop looking at you-

He looks like a painting as he looks down, his eyelashes almost sitting on his high cheekbones,

you have to move your head to looking at the table too as he moved so close,

you feel your shoulders reflexitively hitch upwards as you brushed the hair on the side of his head as you turned away

He looks around, and then moves his head, not his body, he’s still leaning toward you, to look you right in the eyes again

“Why did you stop? I haven’t said much, I apologize, but it’s only because I wanted to hear you without anything interrupting you.”

You cough a little strained, “Oh! Oh I get it now yeah, thanks-”

“I want to hear you more,” his black eyes begin to warm with gold, you can vaguely see the shape of his diamond pupil revealing itself, “I want to hear about… everything, if you’ll tell me? The language, the food, the drinks, your family, your dances, your country, I want to hear it all. Won’t you please let me hear your voice some more?”

♡

GOOOD LOOORDDDD, ITS SO LONGGGGG IM SO SORRRYYY 😭😭

OKAY IM MOSTLY SORRY THAT THIS SCENARIO HAPPENED??? IDK WHERE ZHONGLI CAME FROM- GOD IM SUBCONCIOUSLY IN LOVE WITH THAT MAN I GUESS, SORRY RANDOMANTICS-

uh, hope somebody got anything out of this, sorry abt the length, again,

also pls somebody tell me if what i said about culture/food was alright! If not I’ll def change it, pls dont let me keep it up if its inaccurate/wrong!!

Safe Travels you guys,

💀♒️

.°•.☆.•°.

♡ the beloveds ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk

#fuck my tags ♡#im so tired of putting them #idk why but my heads emptied of all i need to put <3 #UR HAVE SUCH GREAT IDEAS RANDOM!!!#i meant what i said before the gif!#genshin impact #genshin sagau #ask box open #sagau #my asks #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #genshin isekai #genshin god reader #zhongli imagines #zhongli x reader #genshin impact sagau

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jinkiezzsstuff · 1 month

Note

I absolutely loved the Emily and Charlie ideas you wrote so I was hoping to request another Charlie x male reader with some smut (but not the main focus). Idea being everyone going out for an evening with Charlie staying at the hotel to work, secretly wanting some company but telling everyone to have fun anyway. Reader didn't go out and found her later in the evening (maybe can tell how she's feeling) so offers some company/someone to cuddle. The main smut I'd like to include would be her leaving some scratch or kiss marks and her being quite touchy/hands on.

I’m so glad you enjoyed the others teehee i tried my best with this so i hope you enjoy it but im not too happy with how it turned out tbh, idk why, i guess it could be because i didn’t feel like during the smut scenes i did charlie justice, lmk what you think.

Charlie x male!reader

After Party

warnings: creampie, biting, scratching, kinda rushed smut, angsty charlie, possibly ooc charlie but i can’t tell, charlie n vaggie are friends, im not sure if there’s anything else, oh swearing, NOT PROOFREAD beware of errors.

word count: 2K

Charlie was tired. Between her father disbelieving in her, Alastor picking a fight with him, the failed meeting with Adam, and finding out Vaggie was an angel? She was over and exhausted. She tried to keep up her mood but she just couldn’t stop the spiralling thought process of handling everything on her own. It seemed like every step forward she had to take four steps back, nobody believed or respected her.

“Cmon, we needa little par-tay.” Angel whined pushing himself over the back of the couch dramatically. Charlie hummed, barely listening as the crowd of sinners lingered in the little living room-like area. “We don’t need anymore fuckin parties, spider.” Husk muttered before taking a big swig of his drink. “I don’t know, I think a little bit of recreational activity could really brighten the spirits!” Alastor exclaimed, and as much as Charlie would like to join the fun, if she didn’t finish up the work she had she knew it would only stress her out further, but she knew the others worked hard too and deserved a little treat.

Reaching into her pocket she pulled out some cash and beckoned over Alastor. “Here, why don’t you take everyone out to relax?” She said softly, despite her desire for company and hope that one of the few would stay back to assist. “Aren’tcha comin’ toots?” Angel who jumped up the moment Charlie pulled out money asked, putting one of his hands on her shoulder. “Oh no, i’ve got sooo much to do here, you guys go on without me! Bond a little!” She smiled as brightly as she could, although anyone with a keen eye could tell it was forced. In the back of her mind she was hoping for more punch back, more of her friends to beg her to come out with them, but instead they shrugged her off and left rather quickly.

Sighing Charlie rung her hands together and walked up the stairs slowly, vacant and alone, the hotel now seemed so eerie. She made her way to an office one that had been used by the whole team she had, so herself, Vaggie and Alastor. She plopped herself lazily on the ripped leather office chair, air slowly escaping the cheap foam as she did. Charlie couldn’t help the bitter feelings stirring around in her; she was always happy to help her friends and wanted them to have fun and relax, she just wished maybe they cared a little more about her? It was a confusing sensation, she knew Vaggie cared, but at times she felt more like a personal body guard rather than friend, and Alastor, she knew deep down, didn’t actually care.

Opening her phone she decided to try and ease her mind before sorting out the paperwork she had piling, unfortunately the universe wasn’t kind to her. Opening Sinstagram the first sight she was greeted with was Angels varying posts and stories which included all the crew members piled into a booth enjoying their drink of choice. It made a scorned yucky feeling of jealousy tangle within her stomach. Groaning she pulled open a drawer and stuck her phone in it, slamming it shut after. “It’s better to just work.” The princess mumble pulling the first stack of papers near her; the billing’s for their failed comercial.

After an hour of word Charlie sat back in her seat and messaged her sore neck. Pulling her phone from the drawer she checked the time. 23:48. Having no idea when the others would get back, she shuffled from the office to the second story balcony for some air. “Oh sorry I didn’t know you were here!” Charlie exclaimed, seeing you leant over the balcony railing. Looking over your shoulder you gave the little devil a warm smile. “You can join.” You say beckoning her forward, with a sigh and a forced smile Charlie came up alongside you, mimicking your stance. “What’re you still doing here?” Charlie questioned eyeing you from her peripheral. Your brow quirked and your face turned to confusion, with a quick hum you replied. “Just relaxing..?” The statement came out uncertain and wobbly, but you weren’t quite sure what she meant.

“No, i mean why didn’t you go out with the others?” Your head tilted back as you let out an ‘ah’, now understanding what she meant. “I just, well, this is the only time i get free yknow, always gotta be doing something so it’s nice to be alone, but i also want to have fun with them, but that drains me yknow?” Charlie quickly nodded her head at that completely understanding where you were coming from. “Yeah i know what you mean. I wish somebody stayed back with me.” Nudging yourself lightly into her, she met your eyes with curiosity floating in her own. “Well I stayed back, why don’t we relax together?” You suggest warmly, smiling fondly down at her. Charlie momentarily stuttered, blushing at the way her mind wandered to naughty places.

“Ahem, uh, sure! Yes! Let’s do that!” The princess fumbled, pushing herself away from your hold. You could tell she was flustered as she walked off leading you to whatever part of the hotel she’d choose to relax in, you felt a little voice in the back of your head egging you on to tease her, and who were you to deny your great mind. “Alrighty this it my room! Uhhh, why don’t we watch a movie or something..?” Charlie trailed off leading you into her bedroom.

You took a quick look around enjoying the aesthetic her room held. Charlie kicked her shoes off and pulled her jacket from her shoulders. “You can lounge on the bed if you want, i totally don’t mind!” You grinned and got onto the bed, watching as she frantically ran around “Calm down hun, you look real stressed.” You urged her frantic pacing causing loose hairs to tangle and fly out from her ponytail. “Ugh, i know!” Sighing she finally plopped on the bed beside you and laid back hands folded on her stomach and eyes closed. Leaning over slightly to look down on her, you observed her somewhat relaxed face as you watched her slow her breathing down. Assumably trying to cease the slow crawling panic that was clawing at her. “It may be a little forward but I heard compression and hugs can help stress, you wanna cuddle or some shit?” Your voice came out slightly tight a little unsure of how to go about the request. Charlie’s eyes fluttered opened and blinked toward you, after a moment of silent contemplation Charlie sighed happily opening her arms. With a huff and a smile you scooted down, wrapping your arms around her while laying beside her.

She scooted up into your side, her right hand sliding up your chest and around your shoulder. It sent shivers down your spine, and blood straight to your dick, embarrassingly so. Ignoring the sensation, your hand gently traced shapes into Charlie’s side where your arm was placed. Charlie’s head slowly lifted and shifted from the bed to your chest, tucking herself under your chin. Her hair tickled at your nose and chin, you could smell her shampoo and the perfume she’d used. You tightened your grip subtly, enjoying the warmth she let off, and with a hum she swung one of her legs over your hips, twisting her body entirely against you.

You took a deep breath attempting to calm your heart and the tightening sensation in your pants. Like the devil spawn she is, Charlie began tracing your chest, flattening her palm against your chest and trailing down from your neck, to the hem of your jeans, and back up to your neck again. Taking a deep breath you brought your hand up to you with her hair in attempts to distract you.

“Thanks for this.” She mumbled nuzzling her face further into your chest. You hummed eyes lazily dancing around shapes your eyes made up on the canopy above. “Any time.” You replied after a moment. The two of you laid there silently, softly the two of you let your hands drift across eachother innocently. It wasn’t until charlie’s hand ducted under your shirt to touch your bare chest that the air in the room got thick and heated. Breath hitching you zeroed in on her claws softly scratching down your chest. “Charlie,” You warned as her claw nicked the waistband of your jeans. Charlie knew good and well what she was doing, could you blame her? You’ve always been so attentive to her feelings and emotional state, the first to check on her after a stressful situation and give her the best advice you could.

With sudden need shooting through Charlie she straddled your waist bracing herself against your chest. Your hands reflexively went to her hips, eyes shooting up to meet her own attempting to figure out what the hell she was doing. She traced her claws down your tshirt covered chest, and when she made it to the bottom her hands wiggled underneath the fabric to paw at your warm skin. As she did you traced circles on her hips, and quirked a questioning brow at her. “Whatcha up to princess?” Charlie smiled shyly, trying to hide her face in her shoulder. “I just want to repay you for your kindness towards me.”

Your face twisted with worry, abruptly you sat up, making her gasp and tucked your hands behind her back to keep her from falling. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me,” You quickly say, however Charlie pushed you back down, shushing you as she did. “It’s more then just that, i think you know they though. Let’s relax, desttress.” With that being said, you tossed aside your tshirt while Charlie eagerly undid your pants, hands shaking as she did. Your hands decided not to diddly saddle and undo her pants simultaneously, needing to feel her speedily.

You were already achingly hard, precum dripping down your shaft as Charlie shakily gripped you giving your head a soft squeeze. Pulling her hand away Charlie kicked off the pants that clung underneath her knees, and readied herself against you. You hummed out in pleasure relaxing into the mattress as she sunk down onto you, above you Charlie whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, clenching onto every vein and ridge. It was delectable, she couldn’t understand why she’d never gone for this before. Bottoming out, Charlie’s legs shook, her body would involuntarily convulse every now and again as she attempted to adjust to the size of you. Falling forward unable to keep herself up she sunk her nails into your chest making you groan deeply, bucking your hips up into hers.

Nuzzling herself into your neck as you took the reigns, thrusting up into her at a steady pace, she began to leave teeth marks and hickies along your neck, desperate moans broken out between nips and bites. Your arms encased her pulling her near as you roughly fucked up into her at a brutal pace, her juices dripping down you. Erotic, loud slapping noises were all that you could hear in the room accompanied by Charlie’s whimpers and please. “Fuckkk, yknow how long i’ve waited for this? They don’t know what their missing not staying around someone like you.” You say splaying your fingers through her hair as you do, at this point Charlie’s body laid limp atop your own, your knees up and angled to continue your rapid pace.

“Please,” Charlie begged clenching tightly around you, you huffed out a moan that you attempted to cover and slid your hands down to squeeze her ass. Groaning loudly, you pushed her over, still inside you hovered over her, pulling her legs up over your shoulders to gain new access. With this angle you were able to hit different areas making Charlie squeal. “Oh fuck Charlie,” You groaned as your balls slapped against her ass, finally you felt the band snapping and slowly you filled her with cum, pumping all of what you had inside her. Charlie cried out clenching, and convulsing against you. She tried to inch away screaming your name loudly as she road out her high against you. When the two of you had finished, catching your breaths, you laid beside her, pulling her into your chest.

She rolled her head from one side to face you, her eyes glazed over barely seeming like she was there. “Didja mean what you said about wanting this for so long?” You nodded at her, the softness in her voice was music to your ears and made goosebumps crawl against your skin. “Yeah, since i got here, you’ve had my eye.” Humming softly the princess said nothing, but buried her head in your chest.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #charlie magne x reader #charlie x male reader #charlie x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #charlie morningstar x male reader #charlie magne smut

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