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synopsis: carol wasn't there for you when it happened. she regrets it every day, yet still begs for you. any version of you.
pairing: carol sturka x reader
words: 2k
warnings: plurbed!reader, oral sex, grief/mourning, lesbian sex, fingerfucking, top and bottom carol sturka, dry humping
You still smelled the same. Woodsy. Just like the Redwood trees youâd both seen in 2008. Carol remembered it well as she chewed on her nail in the middle of your home. The two of you had woken up early, gotten ready and walked out as far as you could to find the biggest tree. It was hard; there were so many, and Carol felt hopeless.
Stopping in front of a tree with your dorky binoculars â Carol remembered fondly, you stared up at the tops of the trees. Your gasp had been cute.
âThis is the biggest one!â
âYeah, maybe. They should really put a sign or something.â
âRight?â You laughed and pulled Carol closer by the sleeve.
Carol had been looking right at you. The way your hair framed your face, your gorgeous lashes and even your boots were somehow cute. Youâd turned to her in your stupid little vest with the brightest smile sheâd ever seen and declared.
âI think this is the happiest Iâve ever been.â
Carol tried to think of that moment every time she looked at you. That had been the happiest youâd ever been. Not this false elation that overtook you by force. Her fists clench at the thought, if only she hadnât helped that man on that day â she should have been there for you on the day of the Joining.
She was just that type of person, she guessed. Maybe she deserved it, too.
âIs something wrong, Carol?â
She could feel you, that inescapable warmth, because the Hive knew exactly how to love her. They had taken your memories and broken them down into pieces. Dissected like frogs in a biology classroom. It was all to make her cave, to fall into your arms and plead to join.
Carol refused. She knew you wouldâve too if you could have. You two were different.
âNope. Nothingâs wrong.â
It felt weird being cold towards you. Your eyes glance at the alcohol cabinet, and it feels so fucking you that Carol scoffs.
âWhat, concerned about my drinking? Wanna breathalyze me?â
âNo,â you say slowly, eyes flitting back and forth as if searching hers for something. âWeâI, was just wondering if youâd had anything to drink. Would you like me to make you something?â
Carol stands suddenly, rounding the counter and stomping right in front of you. Youâd always been taller than her, and she had to look up at you with that quivering lip and those watery eyes. Sheâs quiet. Blue eyes scan your face over and over again.
âDonât act like my wife,â she forces out in a tight voice with her fists clenched. âI know youâre manipulating me, so donât act so, so fucking human!â
You look so sad and rejected that Carol wants to take it back. She almost does, her lips parting before she remembers who and what you are. She looked away, teeth chattering as she clenched her jaw.
âIâm sorry I upset you,â you whisper with an ache in your voice.
The move to touch her would normally be sweet, but Carol holds a hand up and stares flatly at you. She tries to think of the Redwoods, of the cabin you stayed at, of the memories from before. Carol sidesteps you, then storms off.
She comes back to you three drinks deep. Shy and wanting. Carol notices how you move to steady her as she stands in front of you, your warm hand molding to her waist the same way you used to do in line at coffee shops.
Her want for you is just barely surmountable, and she dives forward to kiss you because, god, she remembers how you used to hold her. How you used to kiss her. Make love to her.
Whether itâs the alien virus or you, you kiss the same. Lips gliding against Carolâs, you kiss like a starved woman whoâs desperate for her first meal. Carolâs hands cup your face as she moans into it. Your hands find her hips and pull her close against your body. Feeling every mold and curve of you drives her a little crazy. She already had you mapped out from head to toe in her mind, but to feel you like this? Well, nothing compared.
Her voice is garbled and wet when she pulls away, her fingers digging just a little into your skin as she stares imploringly into your eyes.
âAct like her,â Carol rasps. âPlease.â
The shift is instantaneous. Your moans are sweet and ripe, plucked at just the right moment to make Carolâs clit pulse. Carol takes control. She needed to feel it solidly in her hands, the same way she could feel your skin under her fingertips. She guides you to the bedroom, refusing to make prolonged eye contact, but rather intent on kissing and losing herself in your scent as she drags her lips and nose across the expanse of your neck.
You collapse onto the bed with a soft grunt, hands coming up to steady her as she follows you onto the plush bed. The two of you are all hands, all lips, all physical. Carol dominates the way she used to; she tries to grasp those memories of being on top of you, caressing your thighs, and biting your neck.
In the now, she pins your wrists to the pillows and sucks on your bottom lip. She slots her leg between yours, and you whimper. Carol pants above you, grinding her thigh against you as she watches your face for every movement and twitch. It was so real, you were so real.
She has to let go of your hands. Carol opts to feel your chest, thumb rubbing over your nipples in her cotton shirt; you were still so undeniably hers, it was impossible to think about wanting or touching someone else.
Carol feels your leg press up, your eyes seeking hers as she grinds down against your thigh with shaky hips. Her moan is stilted, almost reluctant. Both hips work in tandem, dry humping over sweatpants and leggings. The friction was delicious.
You donât cry out, only gasping and grabbing her head and tugging her down, down, till her lips meet your tits. Carol suckled and groaned, tasting your sweet skin and feeling your body writhe under hers. Shaky hands come to Carolâs waist, grasping the hem of her thick ribbed tank top to pull it upwards.
âI missed you,â you whisper.
âI-I missed you, too,â and she says your name in a watery voice. âGod, I missed this.â
Your wife knows itâs not you, but when everything feels just like it did in 2008, in 2015, in 2025 â it was almost impossible to say no. Not when she could have you again and again. You could stay with her somehow, tethered together like ships in the harbor.
âMake me cum,â you sigh out.
Carol ignores the pang in her chest at hearing you say, âme.â She ignores it as she kisses down your stomach and tugs off your bottoms to reveal smooth legs. Her arms, toned, part your legs easily, and Carolâs mouth waters at the sight of your soaked cunt.
Her tongue flattens against your clit, driving upwards as you keen and grasp onto the now shorter blonde locks of your wife. Yes, you were acting just like you, and it brought tears to Carolâs eyes as she devoured you as if it was the last time sheâd ever do it.
That wasnât out of the realm of possibility.
Carol loses herself in you, remembering how your nails would scratch against her scalp and how your lips would part into an âOâ as your thighs locked around her head. She canât help herself, a hand sliding up to slip two fingers inside you. She curls them upwards, blue eyes flicking to yours as she watches your face contort into pure ecstasy.
It was satisfying to make you feel like this, to feel your slick coat her fingers as she pumped them in and out of you the way she knew you liked it. Sheâd finger-fuck you all day; in fact, she used to.
âTalk to me,â Carol demands over the soft squelching of your pussy.
âI love it, feels so good,â your hands seek any part of her, resulting in your hands gripping her hair at the root.
It stung in a way that made Carol moan. Your hips bucked up, toes curling as your moans became stilted and breathy. Every touch, every sound, every fucking little thing was just like how it used to be; Carol only went at it harder.
âDo you like it when I touch you like this? Can you remember how I used to,â she pauses, licking her lips as you stare at her with a pleading expression. âHow I used to make love to you?â
She needed you to say it.Â
âI remember,â and your hand strokes her cheek.
Carol makes you cum a minute after you say those words, tongue lapping and circling your clit until youâre creaming whilst writhing. It was both immensely satisfying and devastating. You could see the turmoil on her face, and you wanted to make her happy.
Pushing your wife onto your back, you look up at her with an affectionate expression. Sheâs breathless, working her jaw and asking, âwhatâre you doing? I wasââ
âLet me take care of you.â
âThis isnât about me,â she tries to sit up, but your palm to her chest guides her back down. âShe would never act this way.â
âBut she would. Remember your last birthday? Remember how we,â and youâre quick to correct yourself. âI tied you up with my scarf? Youâd loved it, then.â
Carol looks guilty. Of course you knew that, the Hive, whatever. Your hand turns her gaze back to yours, and your eyes are so pouty with your lips downturned that Carol feels sheâd do anything you want.
Sheâd always been weak for your eyes.
âOkay,â Carol's whisper is tight.
Itâs like a switch flips inside you. Carol watches your eyelids lower just the slightest. You sit naked on your knees, slipping her sweatpants off along with her boxers â dark blue plaid. Touching her feels religious, holy. Your hands roam over her body, up her thighs and down her arms.
No one says anything. Your eyes do the talking, rather dancing, as they flit. Back and forth, back and forth, eventually remaining on each otherâs eyes as your hand slowly touched her. Instantly, your fingers are soaked as you rub her clit in slow circles.
Carolâs teeth sink into her lip, and she tries to let go. You were still in there, touching her, loving her. One by one, her muscles relax, and she loses herself in the sensation of your fingers expertly working in and out of her. Your hands are the culmination of many nights together.
Her breathing picks up as you guide her to release.
âI love you, Carol. You look so perfect like this, you feel so good,â you croon into the still air.
She moans, your thumb making quick circles as she pulls you closer to connect your lips. You can tell sheâs close, the way her thighs shake, and she practically begs to feel your tongues glide against each other.
âKeep fucking me, please,â she says.
âIâd never stop.â
âOh fuck,â she groans, arms winding against you and pulling your bare body against hers. âOh god, âm gonna cum!â
Carol cumming is like a star bursting. She winds up tight, and then explodes with a cry of your name. Her head thrown back with her legs shaking. Only you could make her feel just like this.
She comes to moments later, feeling your soft caresses against her skin as you move to be next to her. Carolâs hazy, and her hands are desperate to feel you close. This was her lately, clingy. She hated it. Carol would not consider herself a clingy person, other than when she was with you.
But this was different. Because you werenât you.
âI love you,â Carol says almost automatically, pausing after the words are spoken. âIf youâre still in there.â
âWe love you, too,â you say, smiling and squeezing her cheek. âWe are always here.â
Carol nods. That atom bomb would come in handy. If this wasnât reversible â she looked at you, really looked into your eyes â then hell, sheâd rather go out with a bang. Maybe it would look like fireworks.
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that I'm afraid of losing you, losing you later | (f)
synopsis: carol sturka and you became fast friends in college. now, as her wife, you reflect on a life shared.
pairing: carol sturka x reader
words: 939
warnings: none!
notes: i tried something new, hopefully there's an audience for it! i will keep writing for her because, well, I love her. enjoy!
Youâd always campaigned for her novel ideas. Carol and you had become fast friends in college; her edge met your softness the way the sun melted into the water at sunset. It was a mere draft back then, a hopeless idea as she lounged on your dorm bed and read her work aloud.
What had it been called again? Your aged mind struggled to remember as you stirred two cups of coffee.Â
âSo, do you think itâs good or what?â
Carol lay strewn across your bed and looked at you with those beautiful bright blue eyes. You canât help but feel a little entranced by them, seduced even.
âWhat? I think itâs amazing,â you shake the pages in her face. âThis is art!â
She blushed and looked away, snatching the pages from you as her lips quirked up into a small smile. Carol set them aside, and sat up in her navy blue hoodie. Her lashes dusted her cheeks every time she blinked; your cheeks felt hot as you watched her.
âIf you say itâs good,â she says.
âIt is.â
Carol had been different then. Haunted by her trauma. Memories of tearful nights come to mind, of ones where she let you hold her as a quivering lip spilled about the camp, the fear, the pain. Even in the present day, it makes your lips tug down in a frown. She had been so sad.
Shaking your head and gathering the two steaming cups, you make your way out of the kitchen.Â
Your wife had always known how to drink; you reckon she honed her abilities for adulthood in college. She taught you how to take your first tequila shot, eyes wide and teeth pearly, as she instructed diligently.
âSalt, then shot, then lime. You canât possibly mess it up. Itâs easy,â she goads in a packed bar.
âDo you think I need more salt?â
âOh my god,â she exhaled, and promptly downed her shot before watching you with intense eyes.
You followed suit, and the mutual grins that broke out between you were priceless. She hadnât even come out to you yet, but something stirred you when she grabbed your hand and squeezed with lowered lids.
Kissing came shortly, and you collapsed on your dorm bed with Carol pinning you to it like she knew what she wanted. For the first time, she did.
Carol was still too shy to do anything other than kiss. You laugh to yourself as you remember how she tried to pretend she had blacked out before the kiss, and therefore didnât remember it. Sheâd had bad lies, but that one had been especially egregious.
So youâd kiss in the quiet mornings before classesâyouâd always been infinitely thankful for the single room. Maybe sheâd read an excerpt or two to you before you had to leave for your own classes; a domestic routine that initially came from close friends began to feel like something very hot and warm. Love, you now knew.
Your bare feet pad to the bedroom, walking past various paintings and photos. Carol at her first book signing. Your wedding photo. Carol and you on your first vacation.
Italy. It had been fall, a few years ago now. You could still smell that salty sea air.
âIsnât it beautiful?â
The hotel was more than luxurious; the air felt expensive as you traversed the large room. Thank god for Wycaro.Â
âItâs nice,â Carolâs hands brush over the comforter of the bed. âCanât believe it costs an arm and a leg to make you happy.â
âRabanâs arm and leg, you mean.â
Carol laughs, a rare rough sound escaping her as she walks over to you and envelops your waist in the privacy of the room. She kisses you the way you like to be kissed, the way she knows you love it. Her tongue slips past your parted lips to trace yours, and you both pull away with cloudy, horny, eyes.
Sheâd had you all over the hotel room by that evening.Â
The door to your expansive bedroom opens, and youâre welcomed to the sight of a topless Carol sitting upright. The sheets pooled around her waist, giving you the mere illusion of more, and it made your mouth water. She caught you staring.
âWhat, do I look good or something?â
âYou know you always look good,â you murmur whilst handing her a mug of coffee.Â
Carol smirks at you, nudging your hip with her foot before patting the space next to her. You eagerly snuggle up close, head resting in the crook of her neck. Her arm wraps around your waist in a way that makes you feel wanted, desired. She tightens her grip.
âWanna just do whatever today? Fuck it, I donât know, go for a picnic or something,â she says in a sigh.
âIâd love to. Remember those prosciutto sandwiches we had in Italy?â
âGod, if you could make those,â she whistles and shakes her head.
You laugh in agreement. Those sandwiches were unique to that memory. There was no recreating.
âWell, whatever, weâll bring a bottle of wine and bread and call it a day,â you fill the silence with a shrug and another kiss to her cheek.
âNow thatâs true Italian,â she murmurs in a low voice, nose rubbing against your cheek. âSounds like a plan.â
Her lips are soft and tender. You moan into the kiss, as does she, and sheâs quick to set her coffee aside and mold you to her body. Mug left abandoned on the side table, you cling to her and pull her closer till you feel like you are one.Â
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synopsis: alex desperately needs a babysitter for his son, jaime. somehow, you come along, bright eyed and just what alex feared: you were his type.
pairing: alex quackity x reader
words: 9k
warnings: oral sex, blowjobs, vaginal sex, unhealthy work relationship
Shirtless with his face buried in the pillow was exactly how Alex liked to sleep; his retainers on lock as drool spilled past his open mouth onto the soft cotton pillow below. It was the only way Alex knew how to sleep. Heâd gotten used to the cool sheets, the lack of warmth and the absence of a warm body. He claimed he didnât need it; it didnât bother him. Really, it didnât.
âÂĄPapĂĄ!â
He feels the impact first, feels his son throw his whole weight onto the bed with a joyful laugh. He cracks an eye open. 7:53 A.M. Fuck, Alex had slept in, and Jaime was still in his dinosaur pajamas. Alex inhaled sharply, his hair mussed as he rolled onto his elbows and looked at his son, who stared back at him with a toothy grin.
âÂżTenemos escuela hoy?â Do we have school today?
âSĂ,â Yes, he affirms, left hand rubbing his eye as he sat up fully in bed. Jaime bounced where he sat, onesie-covered feet stuck out as his hands played with each other. Alex felt a smile grace his lips as he admired Jaimeâs eager movements. âGo pick out an outfit, Iâll make you some breakfast.â
Jaime sticks his fist out, cheeks blown out as he nods, âI wanna wear my Cars shirt.â
Alex grins, fist-bumping him back. Their special ritual.
âGo for it, mijo,â and Jaimeâs off the bed and bounding into the hall. His feet pad all the way down to his room, the door slamming as he goes to change. Alex shakes his head, running his hands through his hair before leaning back in bed with his eyes closed.
He felt tranquil. A little overwhelmedâwell, more than a little. Work kept him slammed, and he knew heâd be late in picking up Jaime from school once again. A distant memory comes to him, a drunken night with his friends, Angel and Sebastian.
âÂżPor quĂŠ no le pagas a un niĂąero?â Why donât you pay for a babysitter?
Heâd said something about wanting to spend as much time with Jaime as possible back then, but he knew deep down it was beginning to be too much. He prided himself on being a single parent; heâd been handling this shit on his own for as long as he remembered.
A crash echoes through the small family home, and Alex brushes the covers away and sprints to his sonâs room with wide eyes. As he enters, he finds Jaime standing with his hands clasped behind his back, holding his Cars shirt and rocking on his feet while his dresser lies on its front, clothes spilling out and around it. Alex gives Jaime a look, confused, with a bit of disbelief.
âÂĄSe cayĂł! Trataba de agarrar mi camisa y se cayĂłâŚâ It fell! I tried to grab my shirt, and it fellâŚ
Alex sighs, squatting to rub his sonâs back. Jaime looks at him with those wide, innocent brown eyes, and Alex knows he deserves more, deserves someone constant. Alex tugs him into a hug, and then changes his shirt with the practiced ease only a father could have. He righted the dresser, letting it stand on its four legs while Jaime wiggled his tiny feet into a pair of jeans.Â
Breakfast is messy and hectic as both boys rush to get themselves ready. Jaime stands by the door with his backpack on, and Alex has to pause to swipe a bit of egg from his sonâs mouth. He checks the time, 8:00 A.M. Damn. They were going to be late.Â
Itâs only when theyâre midway through the kiss and ride that Jaime exclaims out of nowhere, âI forgot my lunch, ÂĄPapĂĄ!â
A stream of defeat courses through his entire body. Alexâs head drops back against the headrest. God, he really needed a babysitter.
-
âLooking for a babysitter for a five-year-old boy. Loves dinosaurs and video games, not a picky eater. Must have CPR and first aid training. Hoping for open availability, but I am willing to work with you! Pay is $30 an hour, and I am open to negotiating your salary.â
The ad finds you on the worn couch of your tiny apartment. The wine glass teeters and tips in your hand like a seesaw as you scroll through the listing. You had the credentials to back it upâyears of experience, the right training and were desperate enough to do anything for a few extra bucks. The ad finds you well, and you take a mouthful of wine before clicking on the profile.
The fatherâs name is Alex, and the profile is mostly bare-bones. He did have a profile picture, and you felt your lips quirk into a smirk as you eyed it. A mature face, not worn, but a working manâs face. Dark hair that cascaded down in black strands that framed him, with dark eyes to match. He was sexy, as far as fathers went. While looks can be deceiving, you also figured there was no way Alex could be so bad.Â
Besides, you could handle a five-year-old boy. You guide your mouse to the âmessageâ button and click with a harsh tap. The page directs you to a private message, where you type your response with dashing fingers.
You: Hello! Iâm interested in the listing you posted. Do you have availability for an interview?
Not expecting a response right away, your gaze shifts back to your wine as you refill it from the bottle on the floor. You adjust your blanket, cozying yourself further into the couch as a ding sounds out through the air. You raise a brow as you scan the message.
Alex: Hi! Thatâs great, I just read through your profile. You seem like a good fit. Does Friday work for you? You could also meet Jaime to see how you two get along.Â
You: That sounds great, Alex. Friday works for me, Iâll see you then.
He sends his details, and you agree to meet at noon.
You had to be professional. This wasnât a date, but damn, if you werenât excited. The laptop is slammed shut, and your wine glass is drained. Youâd ace this interview, make some extra money and move on with a beaming grin. The hot dad was a mere perk.
This job needed to change everything. You were sick of the hum-drum of the day-to-day. You felt listless. Off course. Those thoughts are pushed away; you werenât ready to deal with them yet. Heading to bed, you lie awake with only a day in mind. Friday.
It comes quicker than you think.
Dressed in a smart outfit with a hint of cute, you knock on the front door. Flared yoga pants, pink onesâof course, and a brown tank top that hugged you just right. There are voices behind the door, and you can hear scrambling before it swings wide open. Alex stands there, hair loose and a bit in his face as he greets you. His son was there next to him, hand clinging to his leg as he peered at you from behind his father.
âHi,â Alex says, eyeing you with a hint of warmth and a mix of want. It makes you smirk back at him, and the blush is obvious as it grows from being caught staring. âIâm Alex.â
He extends a warm hand, and you take it, offering a kind smile with bright eyes. You really needed this job. His hand has calluses, and it makes you shiver. You tell him your name, and then glance at the little boy now standing on his own, unattached from his fatherâs leg.
âYou wanna introduce yourself, hm?â Alex pats his son on the back, enough to push him forward, and the boy steps up to jut his chin towards the sky.
âIâm Jaime,â he declares, before stepping back like a dutiful soldier in line.Â
Alex laughs, glancing at you, but youâre unfazed as you squat and offer to shake his little hand. Jaime laughed and shook your hand; you stood back up and looked between the two of them.
âItâs great to meet you both,â Alex and Jaime step aside to let you in, and you enter their home.Â
It was warm. Not only was their house quite large, but it was also filled with a multitude of things. It was lived in. Toys strewn everywhere, large gaming and sound systems, a marble kitchen and a thriving backyard. You felt a bit of jealousy as you took it all in, but pushed it aside as Alex led you to sit down on the couch.
âDo you like video games?â Jaime queries, following the adults into the living room.
âYeah, I do,â you chirp with a smile. âWhat do you like to play?â
Maybe you could get in his good graces with that.
âAnything PapĂĄ has! I love video games.â
âAnything age-appropriate,â Alex adds before taking a seat on the couch. âWhy donât you go play upstairs for a little?â
Jaime pouts, swinging his leg around before nodding and conceding at Alexâs look.
The boy scampers up the stairs, and then itâs just the two of you. Your fingers curl in on themselves to form fists on top of your knees. With your back straight, you watched as Alex eyed you before a gentle smile graced his lips.
âSo, I guess weâll just get right to it. Jaime needs a babysitter for when Iâm at work, my schedule is pretty sporadic, but I usually work at least three days a week,â Alex explains, his hands fidgeting with each other. âI was hoping youâd be able to handle maybe some pick-ups and just general caretaking while Iâm out of the house.â
âI can definitely do that!â You hand him your resume, to which he glances at you with an appreciative smile; your heart flutters in your chest as he takes the paper.
Alex skims it first, nodding and reading quietly. He looks back up and laughs as his hand comes up to brush some strands away from his face. Almost nervous, he fingers a piece, twirling the hair around his finger before clearing his throat.
âYouâre perfect, really. Iâm down to pay you whatever you want,â his eyes dip down to your chest for just a glance, but you catch it, and it makes confidence thrum through your veins.
âI mean, Iâm not gonna say no. Iâm pretty happy with the standard pay, but if you were gonna raise itâŚ?â
Alex smirks, sitting up straighter and shrugging like it was no big deal. By the looks of his house, he had no trouble in that department, âhow about we raise it to $40? You can also eat from our fridge or cook for yourself and Jaime, itâs no big deal.â
You try not to squeal at the price, nodding with a barely suppressed grin at his words. A high pay rate and even more perks? It might be a dream, should you pinch yourself? You donât, but youâre in a haze as Alex stands; you mimic him and begin to walk, the two of you heading to the front door. Your feet drag a bit. Being in Alexâs presence felt nice.
âThis is honestly the first time Jaimeâs ever been babysat. Iâm hoping heâll be okay, but,â the pause is long as he trails off.
Alexâs anxiety is obvious; his eyes look all around, unable to keep himself from spilling his guts. Your hand settles on his bicep, and you smile with warmth and understanding. You didn't have kids, but you knew this had to be hard for them.
âIâm sure he will be. He has a great father, and Iâm pretty great too,â Alex laughs at your joke and doesnât shy away from your touch. You squeeze, for comfort and to greedily feel the hard muscle under his skin. âJaimeâs in good hands. I promise!â
The father looks straight into your eyes, reading your expression and gauging your intentions. He seems to find what heâs looking for as you pull your hand away, and Alex grins as he opens the front door.
âI believe you, I think youâre exactly what weâve been looking for,â and you wonder if heâs feeling the same connection you were.
Itâs not lost on you what he means. Maybe you were exactly what heâs been looking for, whatever that is. A babysitter, you guess, but maybe there was room for more. Hell, you wanted more. This meeting had left you curious. No one else seemed to be in the picture.
âIâll see you Monday. Take care, get home safe,â Alex says in a low tone, waving.Â
You watch as Jaime rushes to cling to his fatherâs leg and downright screams. You didnât even notice him come back down, but his scream is more than enough to let you know he was there.
âBye! See you soon!â
You laugh, almost tripping as you make your way down to the sidewalk. The two boys keep waving as you give an embarrassed look, then open the door to your Toyota to drive off. Alex lingers in the doorway as Jaime runs in while you get yourself sorted, and he continues to linger even as you drive off.Â
The weekend is spent lounging and dreaming of Alex, literally and figuratively. He haunts you a little. You two text sporadically, and itâs not crossing boundaries by any means, but it feels comfortable. It scares you.
Monday arrives, and youâre pulling up to the household with a cup of coffee in hand. You exit your car and knock, hearing Jaimeâs delightful squeals behind the oak wood.Â
Alex opens the door a bit frazzled, and heâs quick to say, âI burnt the pancakes. Jaimeâs covered in flourâhe knocked over the bowl, and I really gotta go.â
You nod, face serious as he steps aside to let you in.Â
âKeep getting ready. Iâll handle breakfast,â your thumbs-up is swift; you and Alex splitting off to handle Jaime and handle himself, respectively.Â
Jaimeâs standing on his toes in the kitchen, peering into the bowl of leftover pancake mix. You assess the situation, and despite the burnt crust caked onto the pan, the mess was salvageable.Â
âHi! I got flour all over me,â he announces as you stand in the doorway. Your hands come to rest on your hips, the purse set aside. âWill you help me?â
âOf course I will,â you answer with a smile.
Flour is shaken out of Jaimeâs dark hair; it matched his fatherâs, and you brush off the flour as best you can from his shirt and pants. Thankfully, the damage wasnât too bad. With a rag and some soap, Jaime looks good as new as you scoop him up.
âOkay, youâre gonna be a good boy and wait at the table while I make your pancakes, âkay?â
âOkay, hi, PapĂĄ!â Jaime waves to Alex, who grabs a water bottle off the kitchen island while crossing the room.
Your heart races as Alexâs eyes linger on the picturesque scene. You, in all your glory with yoga pants and a sweater, looking so at ease with Jaimeâs now clean cherubic face. It made his heart almost stop in his chest, a tease of what could be. Alex gulps, and his fingers tighten on the bottle as he manages a weak smile.
âHi Jaime, Iâm leaving now,â to which Jaime lets out a loud, long whine. Alex turns to you, eyes brimming with appreciation. âThanks so much, you got it from here? Iâll be back around five to six. You know, dinnertime. Oh, and the spare keyâs under the mat.â
âGotcha,â Jaime squirms and waves along with you. âHave a good day at work, Alex.â
You set Jaime down and approach Alex, hand coming to swipe a speck of flour off the front of his button-up. Alex jerks his face away, warming up as your fingers brush his chest. Your smile is cheeky and knowing as you step back.
âYou had a little something,â and then youâre clapping your hands at Jaime like nothing had even happened. âWhoâs ready for pancakes?â
âMe!â Jaime exclaims, arms flying into the air as he jumps up and down.Â
Alex stands dumbly in the kitchen before nodding and waving. His cheeks were pink, eyes unable to stop themselves from roving over your joyful form as you mixed pancake batter. Alex draws close, ruffling Jaime's hair and looking at you with wide brown eyes.
âBye,â he tells Jaime, and then turns to you.Â
He doesnât say anything, but you feel it. No, you see it. Heâs off in seconds, jogging out the front door and shutting it with a click. The bowl of pancake batter sits against your hip as you mix, eyes lingering on the empty space left behind by his absence.
You swiftly use the rest of the batter to make the pancakes, Jaimeâs excited chatter behind you as you face away from him. You get to know him by asking him about school and what heâs learning. Heâs chomping on a fluffy pancake as he says, âI like you! You make good pancakes.â
âDo you? And how are you gonna feel when I make you eat your vegetables, hm?â
âWhat?!â His brows are raised as he shovels another piece of pancake into his mouth. âNo way!â
âYes way,â you smirk at him and cross your arms. âBroccoli, asparagus, carrots and more.â
Jaimeâs gives a whiny cry, but when your fingers dig into his stomach to tickle him, itâs quickly snuffed out. You were right. You knew how to handle him. The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, Jaimeâs face is wiped clean and you toss the napkin into the trash.
The little boy slings his backpack over his shoulders, and youâre about to use the spare key to lock the door when your gaze turns in scrutiny to Jaimeâs figure. Something was missing. You look intently and scan Jaime with a watchful eye. It clicks.
âDid you forget your lunch?â
The boyâs eyes are wide, before he hurriedly nods and runs inside whilst shouting, âone second!â
You wonder if every day will be as easy as this. As comfortable as this. The door is locked, and both of you are on your way to his elementary school.
Time is spent running errands while Jaime is at school. You picked up a few things for dinner, and you were sure Alex wouldnât mind. By the time three oâclock rolls around, youâre in the pick-up lane waiting with your fingers drumming on the wheel.Â
Jaime comes bounding out with his too big backpack hanging off his shoulders. The second you see him, youâre stepping out of the car with your wind-blown hair and sunglasses perched on your nose. Your arm wave is dramatic and big, and Jaime sees you immediately.
He sprints over while calling your name, and you laugh and round the car to open the door for him. He greets you with an excited âhello,â and your smile is warm as you buckle him in.
âHi Jaime, how was school?â
âGood! PapĂĄ packed my lunch so it was yummy,â he says matter-of-factly, nodding with pride.Â
âOoh, and what did he pack for you?â
Jaime launches into a lengthy discussion of his lunch, what the other kids ate, and how he was absolutely thrilled to find a Mazapan in his lunch today. You grin as you drive at the idea of Alex taking care to put a treat in his sonâs lunch. A reminder that he knew him, loved him.Â
âSounds delicious! Are you hungry enough for a snack when you get home?â
âHmm,â Jaime says with a pensive look on his face, before asking with a tilt of his head. âCan you make me a quesadilla? Con crema?â With sour cream?
It makes you giggle. Alex had said something about Jaime having a preference for all things cheesy. You had been thinking mac and cheese, but a quesadilla âcon cremaâ made even you feel hungry at the thought. You glance back at Jaime with a confident nod.
âIâll make you the best quesadilla in the world.â
Jaimeâs question is full of disbelief and excitement, âreally?!â
Yes, really. You park in the garage and get to work in the kitchen as soon as you enter the home. It feels normal to be here, cooking and cleaning. Once post-lunch is served, you lounge on the couch and watch Bluey while Jaime eats his quesadilla. Homework is taken care of just after his snack, and itâs not long before itâs about time for Alex to come home.
-
Alex is beyond exhausted when he comes home. His shoulder sagged low on his frame as he inserted his key in the door, and he could hear the quiet chattering of you and Jaime. He feels himself perk up a little at the thought of seeing you and his son, of course.
Jaimeâs already in his pajamas, and he lets out a sharp yell of joy as he comes tumbling into Alexâs arms. Alex is quick to hoist him up, spinning him around and rubbing his knuckles into the soft, dark hair. You merely sit there with a smile on your face, watching and waiting.
âWas waiting for you to tuck me in,â Jaime says with a finger twirling his fatherâs hair before pulling the hood of his dinosaur onesie up and over the crown of his head.
âAh, well, you know I tuck you in the best. Head on upstairs. Iâll meet you there in a little while,â and Jaime listens as Alex sets him on the ground and watches the little boy run up the stairs.
You stand then, drawing so close that Alex can smell your perfume. Vanilla. Sugary. Sweet. He distracts himself by pulling out his wallet and thumbing through bills. Alex glanced at you, and then he offered a small smile.
âThanks for stepping in today. You were a huge help.â
âItâs no problem,â you answer smoothly, truth lacing your words. âHeâs a sweet kid, I think we get along.â
Alex says nothing to that; heâd have to get the details from Jaime. But if you were anything like this morning, with the gracious ease of handling him, he expected no issues. He hands you the few bills, and you count them after a cheeky look his way. Alex smirks, moles winking as he tilts his head.
âDid I short you?â
âNot at all. Thank you.â
The two of you linger. Alex has the sudden urge to pull you by the waist and kiss you senseless, till your lips tingled and all you could do was fall into his arms. But he didnât, doesnât. God, you were his kidâs babysitter; he shouldnât be thinking like this.
And yet you whisper goodnight in that soothing, low tone, hand brushing against his shoulder with the confidence of a woman who knew what she wanted, who knew she could handle anything thrown her way. Did Alex have that same confidence? He wasnât sure.Â
Alex closes the door behind you and makes his way up the stairs to Jaimeâs bedroom. It was a little messy, as kids' rooms are, but Alex could see the intention in every toy that lay strewn around. He sidesteps a few Legos (frankly, those were about to be the reason for his demise), and he picks up a stuffed bear that Jaimeâs mother gifted him when he was young. A sour taste forms in his mouth at the idea of her, but he pushes it aside.Â
Jaime sits patiently, legs already covered by the blanket, to which he kicks his feet as Alex approaches. The father sits on the edge of the bed, his large hand caressing the boy's soft cheek. Jaime leans closer, then lies back to begin their evening ritual.
âÂżQuerĂas una cuenta?â Did you want a story?
âNo,â Jaime replies. âÂżTe gusta la niĂąera?â Do you like the babysitter?
Alex swallows a thick glob of spit and nods. Jaime seems relieved, pulling the bear from Alexâs hands and snuggling further into his pillow. He sighs, eyes closing, before murmuring in content and satisfaction.
âA mĂ me gusta ella.â I like her.
It makes his heart sing. His chest pounds, and heâs filled with overwhelming gratitude at the fact that his family would be okay. Jaime would be okay, heâd be okay and maybe somehow the two of them could factor you into their life in a way that was real. In the way that you were theirs. Maybe it was too soon to think like that, but seeing you that morning holding Jaime like you were destined to be there, well, it made something inside Alex twist with want. Twist with a deep want that nearly consumed him.
âWell, Iâm glad. Youâll be spending a lot of time with her, so try to be a good boy, okay?â
âYes, papĂĄ. Te amo.â I love you.
âTe amo muchĂsimo,â I love you a lot.
Alex kisses his sonâs forehead, smoothing down his dark hair and tucking him in tight like a stuffed burrito. Jaime squirms and then relaxes into the comforter, and Alex lingers in the pale moonlight for a small moment. He waits till he sees that telltale breathing, slow and deep breaths puffing and deflating Jaimeâs tiny chest.Â
The door is closed behind him. Alex leans against the hardwood and closes his eyes. He sees you âyour smile, the way you looked at him just before leaving, ambling off into the night and collapsing into bed. Alex dreams of family picnics and soft kisses.
-
The boys welcome you. You fall into a routine with Jaime and Alex, arriving early before Alex has to leave for work to prepare breakfast and leaving late when Alex gets home. Itâs easy, in a way, and youâre learning something new every day.
Jaime prefers Mexican food, like the infamous tamarind candy Pelon Pelo Rico â and he hates anything mushy. He preferred to pick his own clothes, often taking style tips from Alex as he selected from an assortment of beanies and cute (see: nerdy) t-shirts. He liked chocolate milk before bed, and he liked the âstories with the funny voices!â
What thrilled you even more than getting to know Jaime was getting to know Alex.Â
He took his coffee with as little sugar as possible, and while he was no grand chef, he knew how to make his favorite dishes â and then some. He tended to work out before you arrived, face dripping sweat as he answered the door and gave a lopsided grin. He always showered before dinner and always greeted Jaime with a big kiss. He didnât shy away from affection.
It was safe to say you were used to the family. You fit in well, Alex had once said before handing you your salary. Youâre the best babysitter ever, Jaime exclaimed once you let him have dessert before bed.
You smile, relaxing further into the plush couch in Alexâs home. Stuart Little 2, because Jaime insisted on watching the second one before the first, blared on the TV. It was quiet, a white rat scurrying around as Jaime laughed along with him. The click of the door unlocking barely registers to you, and youâre only alerted to Alexâs presence when Jaime screams and leaps off the couch.
Alex draws closer, a small smile on his lips and Jaime in his arms, âwhatâre you guys up to?â
He looks at you as Jaime replies. You try not to feel shy in your comfy t-shirt and yoga pants, but Alexâs eyes rake over you appreciatively. It makes your cheeks burn, and you squirm in place.
âWatching Stuart Little 2!â
âHave you even seen the first one?â
âNo,â Jaime drags out the word as he says it, before giggling and shrugging. âBut I like it!â
Alex gives you a look, and the two of you start cracking up together. He sets Jaime down, who worms his way next to your side on the couch. Jaime pats the spot next to him and looks expectantly at his father. Alex seems to hesitate before taking a seat and squishing Jaime between the two of you. You press play, and it feels so right to be here at this moment with them. You didnât want to leave.
He makes no motion to dismiss you. Your greedy eyes watch as he loosens his tie and unbuttons the top of his collared shirt. The flash of skin leaves you hot.Â
Itâs not long before you feel the slumped body of Jaime against your arm. The movieâs still going, hitting its climax as Jaime dozed off. Alex takes a sidelong glance at you, and you turn to look at him. He whispers to you.
âHad a long day?â
âNot too bad,â you hum. âI think I tired him out by running outside for a little.â
âThatâs exactly what I do on my days off. Just chase him around till heâs falling over and begging me to stop.â
You smile warmly. He was so sweet, âyouâre a good father. You work hard, you care for Jaime⌠heâs so lucky to have you in his life.â
Alexâs eyes grow glassy. Your eyes search his face, and you want to lean closer so badly. He was right there, willing and wanting. It was clear to you now. He breaks contact first, voice rough as he murmurs your name and thanks. You figure itâs time to get going, despite your desperation for just one more moment alone with Alex.
Jaimeâs fingers cling to your shirt as you begin to stand and peel him off of you. A sleepy murmur comes out, your name, and Alex swallows before asking with a nervous, shaky voice.
âDid you want to tuck him in tonight? I-I know itâs not a part of your job capabilities, butââ
âItâs no problem. Heâs already clinging to me, might as well,â and youâre scooping him up.
Jaimeâs pudgy cheek rests against your shoulder as you both walk up to Jaimeâs room. This was absolutely crossing a line; you knew it was. As Alex opened the door for you, you couldnât say no. You snuggled Jaime closer before laying him down in bed.
You step back, turning and brushing past Alex. You feel his warmth for just a brief moment. It makes your knees weak. The two of you are silent as you head downstairs, the tension palpable. Alex stops in front of you once you reach the door, and heâs looking at you with those soft brown eyes that make you melt.
Itâs unclear who leans in first, no, who dives in first. Itâs desperate and hungry, your lips tingling as you kiss him with desperation. Your hands are grappling with his shoulders, and his hands find your waist. Alexâs lips are soft and warm against your own and you press yourself closer to feel him for just a second longer.
You pull away first, forcing yourself off of him and just barely managing to hold back. Swallowing, you look at him through your lashes. This was so unprofessional, and yet it felt so right. You didnât want to stop.Â
âI,â Alex starts and swallows before continuing. âI didnât mean, like, Iâm sorry if that was too much or something.â
âNo! No, it wasnât. It was nice, actually.â
He nods, pulling out his wallet. His cheeks were burning, and you could see his eyes darting from you to the money. He looks at you, then holds out the cash.
âGood. Thatâs good. Well, Iâll see you tomorrow, then?â Alexâs voice practically shakes as he voices his thoughts.
You take the cash, your fingers brushing, before the feeling dissipates when you pull away. Alex canât help but smile at you when you smile at him, the joy of the earlier kiss unable to be pushed down any longer. Your quip is inevitable.
âFor the record, youâre a really good kisser.â
Itâs like the tension washes away, and Alex looks comfortable again. Despite his shyness, he laughs and shakes his head at you.
âYouâre a really good kisser, too,â he replies before opening the door. âGoodnight.â
He says your name so softly, with such tenderness and mirth. Your voice is caught in your throat, but you manage a raspy, âgoodnight,â before walking out and down the steps of his home. A distinct feeling of sadness lingers as you walk farther away towards your car. You almost felt like you could cry. Oh, how you wanted to be with them. Be with him.
After that night, everything changed. You donât realize it right away, pushing away the kiss to do your job, but you have been integrated. Yes, you had been absolutely worked into their schedule. Alex and Jaime worked around you like butter âsmooth and flexible â as you began to show up earlier. Youâd begun to hang around early, making coffee for Alex and staying late cooking dinner for the two of them.Â
You tried to follow boundaries, but as you stood in the kitchen listening to Jaime laugh as Alex did his usual funny impressions, it began to feel like home.Â
There was an even more profound truth that settled in your chest. Well, technically two. You loved Jaime; that was easy to admit. You loved his joy for life, his particularities, the way he said your name so sweetly and how he always buried his face in your hugs. Alex has always had to tear him away from you. You certainly loved Jaime.
Thoughts weighed heavily on your mind. Thoughts that might get you fired. That might completely ruin everything you had grown to know because you loved Alex. It was obvious when heâd turn to you and your heart would beat rabbit fast in your chest, when heâd brush past you and you swore you felt sparks. Like igniting a flame, heâd struck your match.Â
You canât focus after this newfound fact. It was impossible to focus, knowing now that you loved Alex; that you loved when heâd greet you with a hug, with one of those glamorous smiles aimed right at you.
The morning passes by with the sun shining and wind blowing, arriving early and having coffee with Alex as Jaime ambles around upstairs. You talk about Jaime, the weather, how dreadful Alexâs meetings are and more. He stands, and you almost think heâs going to kiss you when he leans forward with a smile to whisper your name and a goodbye.
Jaime is dropped off earlier than usual, his time and his mind occupied by the impending field trip to the zoo. He babbled the whole car ride to the school, and as you arrived in the kiss and ride lane, he leaped out of the car and hugged you tight.
âBye! See you!â
You notice how other children hug their mothers and fathers, just as Jaime hugged you. Crushing, all-encompassing and full of love. Your eyes water, and you hug back just as fiercely. His head tucks into the curve of your shoulder, and itâs just the two of you for this sweet moment.Â
His teacher calls, and youâre keenly aware that you are familiar now. Teachers waved, parents nodding their heads as if to say, âI get you.â It wasnât so much strange as unfamiliar. You werenât accustomed to being viewed as parent-lite, but it wasnât unwelcome. As you settle back into the car after Jaime boards the bus, you wonder if parenting classes are in your future. If Jaime were in your future.
The passenger seat is empty, and your head bangs against the seat as you realize you forgot your purse. It was surely at Alexâs home, and youâd have to double back as quickly as you could. License, cash, lip gloss and more. You sigh and pull out of the drop-off lane to retrieve your things.
Itâs alarming as you drive forward towards the grand house. What was Alexâs car doing here? A sudden spike of anxiety rises in your chest, and your hands grow sweaty as you grip the wheel. Should you just enter?Â
You sit for ten minutes. Then, you decide you have nothing to lose and youâre sure nothing would happen if you two were left alone for a few minutes, right? You strut up to the door, head held high, and use the spare key before entering.
Itâs not what you expect, no, itâs not what you expect at all. Itâs quiet when you open the door and quiet while you cross the living room. A creak sounds out, and Alex steps down the steps, a towel hung low on his waist after he stepped out of the shower. You canât help the jaw drop, your eyes taking in the flash of skin before youâre turning around and squeaking.
âI-Iâm sorry! I saw your car, but I had no ideaââ
Alex says your name slowly and even, as if approaching a spooked animal. He then laughs and rubs his head with pink cheeks. You turn, looking over your shoulder with a guilty face and eyes darting around everywhere.
The two of you look at each other, and he has the nerve to step forward like youâre not totally embarrassed and about to run out the door without your purse. This was dangerous. You couldnât be around the man you loved when heâs like this!
âI just came to get my purse. I am so sorry for interrupting. This is soâŚâ
âSo, what?â His voice is curious, and he swallows before stepping closer. You back up, nearly stumbling over one of Jaimeâs stuffed toys that lay abandoned. âAre you okay? Donât sweat it, youâve seen me without a shirt on.â
You know heâs teasing because heâs so light with it. You gulp, nodding because he was right, but was also so desperately wrong. It comes up like vomit, the words spilling past your lips before you can even think to stop them.
âItâs not that,â you blurt, eyes wide and afraid as you search his face. âItâs more than that.â
Alex is quiet while the two of you look at each other. His fists clench, and he steps forward. You feel prompted to speak, to explain, to do anything other than just stand there like an idiot.Â
âAlex,â you start, throat dry. âI love Jaime. I love his laugh, his smile, and the way he loves to play games like âdragon slayerâ and Minecraft, because you were the one who showed him the ropes. Iâve grown to love Jaime.â
His eyes grow watery. They grow warm and milky brown; Alex takes a shuddering breath, and his hand comes to your cheek. Itâs mush in his palm, and youâre weak at the knees as you murmur. The fear overtakes you, but your heart is stronger.
âI love you,â you admit.
Alexâs lips are on your instantly, right hand cupping your cheek, and left hand dragging you closer by your hip. Itâs warm, and you moan as his lips drag against yours, creating heat from the friction of skin. Heâs panting as your arms loop around his neck.
âI love you, too,â he groans and squeezes your ass hard. âGod, I love you. Iâve been loving you.â
Your whimper is hot and whiny as you rejoin in a lip lock. The make-out is sweet, and your hands pull at his skin as they roam over his exposed torso. Alex is everywhere and everything; his body envelops you, and you grow warm when your hand skims over his chest.Â
He pulls away, a string of spit connecting the two of you, before purring, âwe should head to the bedroom. Donât wanna do this on the couch, wanna do it right, you know?â
Nodding in agreement, he wraps an arm around your waist before guiding you up the stairs. Youâre both all over each other, and you barely have the time to register that youâre in Alexâs bedroom when heâs crawling on top of you and lying like a weighted blanket.
Your lips reconnect with ferocity, nipping and lips dragging as you tug him closer by his shoulders. His hands skirt over the plush of your thighs and crave a path up your side till sloping over the mounds of your breasts. His fingers flex, squeezing the soft skin over your shirt and making you moan with an arched back.
âFuck, tits are so pretty, you look so good,â Alex murmurs with a throaty voice, already half-chub in his boxers as he massaged your chest.
All you can do is squirm pathetically. You writhe side to side, hips bucking up and down as you mewled his name. It came out sharp at the first squeeze, then whiny at the secondâby the third, you were moaning openly as Alex thumbed your nipples over the fabric of your shirt and bra.
âLemme take it off,â you whisper before scooting back in a hurry.
The shirt comes off, and youâre clad in a lacy black bra that leaves Alex reeling. His eyes trace over the intricate fabric before heâs nodding in a trance, âyeah, yeah.â
Your smirk is grand as your nimble hands wind behind your back and unclasp the bra. It clatters to the floor as you toss it from the bed, settling yourself to lie back as Alex slowly makes his way back on top of you.Â
Heâs gentler now, almost afraid, as he brings a hand to your chest to squeeze the fat of your breast. A shuddering breath escapes you, the rough pads of his fingers drifting over the sensitive skin.
âI have to tell you something,â he murmurs with a tweak of your perky nipple. âI havenât done this in a while, I might beâŚâ
âWhat, bad?â
You cup his cheek and drag him closer till your noses brush in an Eskimo kiss. Itâs quiet as you stare into his eyes, fingers clenching just the slightest as your breaths mingle together. Youâre the first to speak.
âI love you, Alex. I donât feel afraid, I just feel like I really want to do this with you. It doesnât have to be fucking,â your voice quiets. âWe could make love, if you want.â
Heâs nodding immediately, his spark back as his lips curve into a wicked smile.
âWho said I didnât want to fuck?â
Alex punctuates his words with a grind between your spread legs. Your moan is barely concealed, and the two of you fall into a hard rhythm of push-pull, Alex pressing his thick bulge against the heat of your clothed pussy.
You manage to pause him, too caught up in the feel of his heavy dick dragging through your folds. Grasping onto his hips, you wrench them away with a desperate gasp.
âI canât, need to take this off,â you murmur hotly as Alex pulls back enough to watch you peel off your yoga pants.Â
Alexâs gaze is transfixed on the heat between your legs, throat dry as he takes off his own cotton shirt. He unbuckles his belt like a tease, each loop undone slowly with his eyes tracing over the entirety of your body with a hungry gaze.
Youâre both looking at each other, and you canât help but eye the now freed bulge in his boxers. Saliva pools in your mouth, and your crawl is slow as you draw near.Â
âI wanna taste you,â Alex utters in a broken, needy voice.
âYou will.â
You sit on your knees, Alex opposite you. Your hand starts at his knee before trailing upwards, little hairs catching on your palm before youâre palming him over his tight boxers.Â
He shudders, eyes slipping closed while a soft whine bubbled out of him. He was throbbing, so warm as you squeezed him over the fabric. Snapping the fabric against his hip, you rouse him to open his eyes and motion towards his underwear.
âTake it off.â
âB-Butââ
âShh,â you croon into his ear. âJust let me make you feel good, and then Iâll let you have what you want. Okay?â
His reply is spoken in short bursts as he stands, his hands hastily coming to his waistband to tug the underwear down and off his legs. He kicks it away, and his dick bobs and brushes against his navel. Alex looks away with a shy look on his face, but you donât feel afraid as you wrap your hand around him.
Alexâs hips buck, a hiss forced out as you smear the drooling pre-cum all around his flushed head. His hand rests on the top of your head, and your lips pucker as you kiss his slit.
âOh fuck, I havenâtâohgod, your mouth is, fuuuck.â
Your tongue is quick to lap at his tip, lips parting to suck on the heated skinâthe taste of salty pre on your tongue as you lave it all around his dick.
The pads of Alexâs fingers massage your scalp, knuckling the soft strands of your hair as you take him into your mouth, inch by inch. Itâs heady and your lips curl around your teeth as you slide down to the base.
A keening moan bursts from Alex when you swallow him down your throat, your warm mouth constricting and gurgling as you bob up and down.
âYesyesyes, mmf, I love your mouth. Oh my, fuck!â
Your eyes watch him as you move faster, hand coming up to play with his balls as spit dribbled down your chin. His cock throbs on your tongue, and your moan makes him even more vocal as the vibrations course through his body.
Heâs pulling you off with haste. Both of you are gaspingâwell, youâre heaving for air as you bat your pretty lashes at him. His dick twitches, and Alex is tugging his lip between his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut to pull him back from the edge.
Pouting, you protest with a pawing hand.
âWanted you to cum in my mouth,â you plead with your thumb grazing his nipple.
âI-I didnât want to, not yet. Wanna make you feel good, like I said,â heâs pushing you back against the covers, thumb hooking in the waistband of your panties to tug them down. âThis pretty pussyâs been waiting for me.â
He was right, eyes rapt with attention as sticky strings connected your soaking hole and underwear. Alexâs hips shift against the sheets, pressing himself against the covers with a quiet groan; his eyes never leave between your legs.
Squirming and needy, you press your foot against his shoulder with a gentle plea, âcâmon, wanna feel your tongue.â
âYeah? You want me to eat you out?â
Alex plants slow kisses on your inner thighs, nipping at the flesh and getting closer to where you wanted him most. His breath grazes over your sensitive clit, and it takes everything in you not to force Alexâs head into your folds.
You settle with worming your fingers in his hair. It was soft, and you couldnât help but card your fingers through it as you looked down at him.
He looks up at you, eyes lowered and hazy, before leaning in and suckling on your clit. Your cry is instantaneous, already worked up from sucking him off.
Alex eats you out like heâs starving, and in a way, he is. He hasnât had pussy like this in so long, god, had it been years? He wasnât sure, but he was drunk off your taste within minutes as his pink tongue wormed its way through your folds and licked your arousal.
Your fingers flex in his air, jerking and moving around as Alex lapped at you. He drew circles on your clit with his pink muscle, before diving with his nose buried against your nub and tongue working you open.
âOh, Alex! Ah, ahâI love it, love you, ohhh,â your words die out with a keening whine.
Youâre closer than youâd like to admit as Alex continues his ministrations. He was sloppy with it, hips humping the bed and groans echoing as he devoured you whole.
âThatâs it, grind on my tongue. Fuck my face,â he urges darkly, voice hoarse as you pull him closer and start to work your hips against his mouth.
It builds and builds in your stomach, an inferno of lust coiled in your belly. Youâre so close. Alex licks from your whole to your clit with the flat of his tongue, and that inferno heats till it explodes in a fiery ball of pleasure.
Your moan is stilted, drawn out and guttural as your back arches and you hump Alexâs mouth to ride out through your orgasm.
Alex nuzzles your thigh, planting kiss after kiss. He pulls back and skims you before sitting back with a goofy smirk.
âYou lied,â you lament with a pant. âYouâre really fucking good.â
He fucking giggles and shifts with anticipation.
âYou ready?â
He looks so handsome like this. Built shoulders, moles dotting his skin. You nod, stars in your eyes as you spread your legs in invitation. Alex is languid as he moves closer to you, hand gripping the base of his dick and biting his lip.
Alex rubs his tip against you, your hole drooling as he makes a mess of the two of you. Your breaths are labored as you watch him, and you force out a, âhurry up!â
The man smirks, pausing before sinking in. Head thrown back, your moan is grand as Alex bullies himself into you. Heâs mumbling praises, eyes watching your walls spread for him until his hips are flush with yours.
You scratch at his back, legs locking around his hips with a vice grip.
âGod, youâre so fucking tight. I knew you would be, but,â he thrusts hard, the motion jerking you upwards as you cried out. âYouâre so much fucking better than I imagined, you know? Iâve thought about you since I saw you.â
âY-You have? You always seemed soâooh, so professional,â you drawl in a steamy voice.
âYes, ngh, yes! Had to be, couldnât just fuck the babysitter on the first day.â
Thereâs an audible sound of skin on skin, and all you can do is take him until he leaves you completely spent. Alex is moaning in your ear as he leans over you, tendrils of his hair grazing your forehead and cheeks as he fucked you with vigor.
He angles his hips up, battering against that spongy spot deep inside that makes your eyes roll back. Youâre wordless, hands grappling to hold his face and pull him closer, deep eye contact ensuing as he fucked into you.
âI love you,â you say in a daze, eyes bouncing around in your skull as you were fucked dumb, that heated coil returns so hot you could feel it all the way into your toes. âI love you so much.â
âI love you more,â he declares with a breathless whisper.
He fucks you harder at the shared revelation, and your eyes tear up in ecstasy as you mumble a jumbled, âgonna cum, Alex, gonna cum for you.â
âFuck, fuck, me too. Ohmygod, can Iââ
âYes, cum inside me. Want you to fill me up, please!â
You both come undone within seconds, the feeling of Alex flooding your womb with his cum triggering your orgasm to roll over you in a wave. You go numb, toes tingling as you mewl out for Alex.Â
Thereâs a mix of breaths that wind down, the smell of sex in the air as Alex collapses next to you. Youâre rolling to nuzzle yourself into his neck as if you couldnât stand to not feel his skin for a mere second.
Youâre both quiet for a few minutes. Once youâre calm enough, you manage to whisper.
âThat was, well, I never expected that to happen.â
âReally?â Alexâs fingers drum on your bare hip. âWell, maybe not today, but after that kiss?â
He turns to smile at you with a goofy grin.
âIt was inevitable, wasnât it?â
-
The smell of pancakes wafts into your dreams. Itâs enough to rouse you as you sniff, burying your face in Alexâs pillow. Your hand pats around on the empty bed, searching for that hard muscle youâd grown accustomed to in the past six months youâd been living with them. The sheets are cold and you know heâs gone.
Cooking? You wonder in silence, opening your bleary eyes and sitting up. The sheets are tossed aside, and you throw on Alexâs shirt and some shorts with eagerness. You couldnât wait to see Jaime, see Alex.
Donning your slippers, you make your way out of the bedroom and down the stepsâthe sounds become clearer and the grin has already shaped itself on your face.
The picture is perfect. You take it all in at the bottom of the steps, eyes scanning the scene. Alex stands shirtless, flipping pancakes with ease. Two mugs of coffee are set to the side, steaming and alluring.
Music plays from the speaker, an upbeat tune filling the kitchen.
Jaime sits at the counter, rolling a toy car over the marble counter. His toys lay tossed around, and you maneuver around them on your tiptoes before placing your hands on Jaimeâs shoulders. He jumps, before calling out your name in joy.
Alex turns then, his smile easy as he watches you kiss the chubby cheeks of his son. You peer at him before standing and rounding the island to stand next to Alex.
He lowers the burner and then slinks his arms around your waist. You bite your lip, almost shy, as he looks at you in reverence. Then, heâs leaning down and kissing you in such a sugary fashion that your skin prickles with goosebumps.
âHey,â he says.
âHey,â you croon. âPancakes for breakfast?â
âThe big man called. I had to answer.â
He motions over to Jaime, who grins before slamming two trucks into each other. It makes the two of you laugh, and you reach to rub Alexâs back. Alex turns back to the pancakes, and you realize that this was right where you wanted to be.Â
You had found your place.
âSo,â Alex interrupts your thoughts with a grin. âHow much syrup?â
omg iâm thinking about bakugou discovering the boob photocard trend. (context here )
likeâŚbakugou not really being entertained by like the kpop-ification of pro heroes. he doesnât get the concept of his fans having photocards of him and designing fanmade dynamight photocard holders, collecting them and decorating top loader, people carrying them around etcâŚ
itâs not like he hates it, and katsuki wouldnât deny his fans any fun⌠he just doesnât care much.
that is until a certain dynamight fan account takes part in a particular trend. one where pictures of the explosive pro heroâs face are printed out onto pieces of cardboard â nestled perfectly into your lace cut bra.
he happens to come across it whilst scrolling through the dynamight hashtag â looking for updates on his stats but instead coming face to face (chest) with the ultimate display of dedication. your expression is cute, a blurry wink and a soft pout, but the cameraâs focus is on the katsuki bakugou photocards peeking out from the scalloped edge of your pretty black bra â the holographic orange stickers youâve decorated them with matching the sunset shaded silk bow tacked to the underwire.
his face⌠between your tits. your soft, mouthwateringly perfect tits. the blondeâs heart races, his cheeks flush and something stiff kicks between his legs⌠because to put it frankly, youâre the most beautiful woman heâs ever laid eyes on.
and youâve got your boobs out for him.
âadding something to the trend #dynamightâ youâve captioned the post.
bakugou finds himself bookmarking your tweet â heâll come back to it later, imagine his own face buried between soft mounds of flesh when he works his cock after hours. for now, he leaves his own comment with a new found appreciation for photocards.
âyouâve won.â he simply types out and clicks the lock on his phone â heâll worry about what the head of PR has to say later.
for now, katsuki will await your adorably excited message going on and on about how youâre his biggest fan whilst he comes up with a plan to see your tits in real life, instead.
In films, we are voyeurs, but in novels, we have the experience of being someone else: knowing another personâs soul from the inside. No other art form does that. And this is why sometimes, when we put down a book, we find ourselves slightly altered as human beings. Novels change us from within.
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