#do you wanna do them or be them? or both?

[justporo]

I wanna talk about this Epilogue letter for a hot moment.

I bet someone must've talked about this before but alas I haven’t seen it and BOI do I have feelings about this.

This letter is from the Gur to Astarion.

Not only did I find it astounding that they wrote him a letter but like...

Not only are they forgiving him but they tell him he is a ROLE MODEL to their vampiric children. They admire him for the redemption he lived through, the development he made to become the bigger man.

So not only do they tell him that they're even with him now: no! They also claim that he's helped them to accept their vampire children. Because Astarion showed them that they can be more than just undead creatures.

They voice admiration for him and tell him they're gonna keep watch of him.

(This is not to say that Astarion's actions against the Gur should be overlooked, but it shows to me that both sides have learned and moved on.)

Now: imagine Astarion reads this letter at the reunion party. Or maybe Tav hands it to him later because he couldn't be bothered to waste his time sorting through letters (is what he says but he probably thought no one would have sent him one). He reads the letter barely believing the words he's reading. Tav notices he's gone super silent and turns to find Astarion teary eyed, hand covering his mouth. When he sees you noticing he looks almost like he's going to snarl at you but then he just let's you wrap your arms around him.

"I'm so proud of you," you say.

And he might need more time to accept that, but the seed is planted.

#definitely gonna put that into a drabble of sorts #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #bg3 lore #astarion lore #poro headcanons

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i think your love would be too much ; satoru gojo

summary; satoru knows that you’re worried about something. he just doesn’t know what.

word count; 4.1k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, sickening amounts of fluff, (that’s literally all. that’s it. thank you for your time), you’re both down horrendous, the ”something” reader is worried about is very very silly <333, mostly satoru’s pov!!

a/n; i love this man so fucking much my chest hurts so i dug up the sappiest wip i could find in my drafts <333 you can tell i completely lost the plot halfway through but just pretend that i didn’t ok. i dedicate this to gojo nation :3

satoru feels your stare prickle at the back of his neck.

he’s rummaging through the fridge, one hand on his hip, grabbing two cans of iced tea from the bottom compartment. peach for him, lime for you. his infinity is down, the pads of his fingers meeting chilled aluminum, condensation licking at his skin.

but the goosebumps that sensation causes is nothing compared to the ones he gets from this — your stare digging into the back of his head, your attention aimed directly at him. when he turns around, closing the fridge with a bump of his hipbone, you freeze. like a deer caught in headlights. 

satoru grins.

”you checkin’ me out?”

”no,” you blurt, and his smile only grows.

”aw…” he waltzes across the room, from the kitchen island to the living room, fuzzy socks against the floorboards. ”what’s up, then? something on your mind?”

with a clink, he puts the cans of tea down on the coffee table. you murmur out a breath of thanks, but make no move to reach for either of them.

now that he’s close enough to see you properly — he thinks to himself that you do look a little ill at ease. something in the crease between your brows, shying away from the eye contact he wants. something in the way your voice comes out somewhat strained.

”it’s nothing… i just —” 

you stop. gaze fleeing from his own, slipping down to your lap. he thinks you look particularly small like this. curled up on his expensive couch, curling in on yourself; gnawing at your bottom lip.

”… i’m being dumb.”

he hums. tilting his head, taking you in — wasting no more than a mere moment before taking action. 

you feel him plop down next to you, a shift in the weight bearing down on his couch. comforting. when you glance up, he’s smiling, patient and light. hand sneakily slipping between the cracks of your own, squeezing your palm, running his thumb over the ridges of your knuckle.

”wanna tell me about it?”

from behind the black layer of glass obscuring your frame, satoru watches you intently. watches your expression shift, drinking in the twitch of your brows, how the colour of your eyes flickers in the light. the way your soul sulks and sputters under the weight of his all-seeing gaze. 

you part your lips. slowly, searching for the right words — only to close them again.

you try once more. hesitant. 

all you can manage is a frustrated huff.

”it’s nothing, honestly,” you’re quick to backtrack, wincing inwardly. ”i've just… been thinking. i guess.”

a hum. his smile doesn’t waver. ”about what?”

you avert your gaze. biting your lip, again, turning away from him; resting your chin on the heel of your palm. avoiding his stare like it could turn you to stone. he barely picks up on the words you murmur, flowing out beneath your breath.

”i... can't tell you.”

satoru raises a brow. 

a moment passes. two, three — the silence is telling. you can hear the discontentment in his voice, despite his attempts to mask it.

”why not?”

”i… haah.” you scoot away, just a little more, turning away so he can’t dissect your expression the way he’d like to. ”i just can’t, okay?”

silently, silently, he observes you. the little of you he can see, at the very least; fixating on the side of your face, your cheek, those fluttering eyelashes. as if it could tell him something. you can’t see the way his eyes narrow, behind his shades, black glass shielding you from the weight of his scrutiny.

satoru bites back a huff. 

curiosity and impatience aside, he feels offended. thoroughly so. he doesn't like it when you shut him out, like this, when you don’t allow him to soothe you.

your relationship has been a slow one — steady, a kind of settling in that he never thought he’d experience. calm waves lapping along the edges of smooth sand, washing away tiny pebbles and handfuls of sea glass; delicately coming closer. getting him used to the sensation before gently urging him to take a dip. 

that’s the kind of love you share. 

so it stings, a little, when you won’t let him return the favour. it stings in the same way his phantom scars itch on cold nights.

he knows opening up isn't easy. for you, for anyone, least of all for him — but he still finds himself feeling a little bit dejected. because he's supposed to be your safe space. the person you can trust with absolutely anything.

(if he can’t be that, for you, then what the hell is he even good for?)

he can’t help but feel the slightest tug of worry, too. seeing the tight line of your closed lips, that hardness of your expression. the unmistakable stress accumulating in the corners of your eyes.

but he doesn’t voice that worry. he simply gives your hand another squeeze, and smiles a little wider. ”try me.”

a sigh flows from your lips. 

”you don't get it, satoru.”

your voice has a bite to it, now, just a little harsh. something akin to a soft hiss — defensiveness, he ultimately settles on. but why?

”it’s —” you muster up a glance his way, the slightest little peek, before turning away again. blurting out the words on the tip of your tongue. ”it’s so fucking embarrassing. you’ll laugh.”

satoru blinks.

”… huh?”

”you’ll laugh, and you'll tease me, and — ” he feels your hand slip from his own, muffling a groan as it covers your face. ”i’ll never live it down.”

you’re hiding, squirming, and satoru’s curiosity increases at an alarming rate. he leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of your face, but you don’t let him. 

now he’s nothing short of intrigued.

”i won't,” he says, simply. voice as clear as glass. you scoff into your hands.

”you will!”

”i promise you i won't laugh.”

”you always say that.” a sigh falls from your lips, deep and heavy, as your hands finally slip down to your lap. ”but you never mean it. you’ll laugh so much. i know you will.”

you bite down on your lip. he wants to cup your jaw and kiss you, mend the bruising with a swipe of his tongue — but he tactfully decides against it.

”it’s — it's so…” you trail off, fidgeting with your hands, nervously linking your fingers together. gazing down with a pout. ”so stupid.” 

”baby…”  his voice takes on a fond tone, tender and patient. everything he strives to be, when it comes to you; you and you alone. ”c’mon. you can tell me anything.” 

with a sense of delicacy, he takes your hands into his bigger ones. tucking them into his palms, bringing them into his own lap — meeting your meek eyes. 

”right?”

through the blue of his gaze, he watches you falter. watches your eyes soften, crumbling a little, as you silently weigh your options. you look flustered.

then you slowly part your lips.

”you’re gonna think i’m just joking, or whatever, but — but i mean it. i’m…” your throat bobs with a shallow gulp. ”i’m seriously worried.” 

satoru nods. ”i’ll take you seriously.”

you look up. all you’re met with is a reassuring smile, familiar dimples, the slightest hint of a kind blue behind his shades.

and you finally give in.

”i… i think i might —”

shifting and squirming, your gaze flits from spot to spot, hands still intertwined with his own. you’re caged in, forced to face him, and it only adds to your nervosity. his eyes never leave your face.

”i think… i…”

your voice comes out sounding tiny. gaze stuck to the couch beneath you, as your lips form around the right syllables, and you finally blurt out out the words you've been trying to keep at bay —

”i think i love you too much.”

…

silence.

you still refuse to meet his gaze. a red hue crawls up your neck, spreading to the tips of your ears, heartbeat pounding under your ribs. the sentence spills out of your lips like an arrow; so rushed he barely deciphers it in time.

before the silence can swallow you whole, you continue. trying not to stammer, holding back an embarrassed wince. pouting softly, brows furrowed as your clammy hands twitch anxiously against his own. ”like... to the point where… it isn't normal.”

and then you wait. with bated breath, too embarrassed to look up, bottom lip tensing and softening between your teeth. dreading the explosive reaction he’ll undoubtedly give you.

… except it doesn’t come.

he’s not saying a word. nothing. the silence is so deafening you could cut it in half, lingering, festering in the air around you. all you hear is your own stupid, erratic little heartbeat — refusing to settle down. 

a couple painful moments pass, before you physically can't take it anymore.

as slowly as you can muster, your gaze travels upwards — from his lap to his chest to his exposed collarbone, until his face finally enters your field of vision. you can’t resist the temptation.

(why is he being so quiet? satoru is never quiet.)

you meet his gaze. or what you think is his gaze, anyhow, because you can’t see the way his eyes are squeezed shut. what you do notice is the twitch of his lips, quivering ever so slightly, as if unsure of which direction to go — and you know one of satoru’s sharp teeth must be biting down hard to keep them in place. his shoulders are shaking, only barely, and he breathes out sharply through his nose; in a desperate attempt to keep his promise.

desperately struggling to maintain his composure. 

he makes the mistake of opening his eyes, and all that effort goes down the drain. met with the sight of your flushed face, wide eyes, shining with embarrassment and disbelief. 

like a stack of cards blown over by the wind, satoru’s poker face crumbles. he fails to bite back the wide grin that breaks out across his lips, showing off the white of his teeth, and a soft bout of fresh laughter flows from out his lips.

you gape at him. 

then your brows furrow, harshly, and you choke on a scoff. with a start, you’re scrambling to stand up, tugging your hands away from his. 

”see?” you hiss, almost tripping over your own two feet as you shoot up from the couch. ”i told you! you're laughing!”

you sound so embarrassed he thinks he might cry.

satoru gives up. laughter reverberating throughout his entire body, deep and loud, from the very bottom of his gut — enough to have him clutching at his sides. that only makes you flush deeper, glare harder, and all he can think is that he wants to kiss you silly.

”you promised!”

”i’m —” he chokes on a sharp wheeze, one hand reaching out to keep you from leaving. ”i’m sorry, baby, i —”

but he only ends up doubling over. sputtering with laughter, feeling the leather of the couch meet his cheek. you turn away sharply, and he pulls himself up again. ”wait — sweetheart —” 

a fond chuckle rumbles through his chest, his long arms circling around your waist and pulling you into his embrace. caging you in. you struggle helplessly, trying desperately to break free, but it’s useless — he’s the strongest for a reason.

all you can do is writhe and grumble under your breath, inhaling a familiar scent of vanilla and musk. the fabric softener he uses puts your senses hopelessly at ease, but he’s still laughing — so you can’t help but kick and struggle seamlessly.

”let me go, satoru!”

said man chokes on another little laugh, shoulders shaking, tucking you so close he can feel the pitter patter of your heartbeat against his stomach. you’re so upset with him. but he can’t stop, can't reel it back in, and every weak punch to his chest and muffled protest just makes his composure feel more out of reach. he tried his best. 

he really, really did. 

he tried so hard not to laugh.

(”i think i love you too much.”)

god. just what is he supposed to do with you, huh?

”i’m sorry,” he grins, almost entirely out of breath. ”’m not doing it on purpose, you're just —” 

a sudden fit of giggles. 

"you're so cute.”

”satoru, it’s — not funny,” you whine, practically burning up. every single sound he makes buzzes in your ear. ”i’m serious. i —”

you squeeze your eyes shut. giving in, finally, allowing yourself to melt into his arms. limbs losing their feistiness. he delights in the sensation.

”you don't get it.”

it’s a whisper, muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but he hears it nonetheless. deep breaths, he reminds himself. it’s hard to take such an adorable confession seriously, but he tries. for whatever reason, you genuinely sound troubled. 

”wait, so you —” he bites back an amused breath, but can’t hide the palpable smile in his voice. ”you love me… too much?”

a groan. you hide away, nuzzling further into his chest; your safe harbour. 

”… i told you it was embarrassing.”

”it’s not,” he’s quick to console you. ”i’m just confused.” his palm glides across the back of your head, smoothing down your tousled hair, a grounding weight. he pats your head softly. ”i mean…” 

a deep inhale. his heartbeat finally settles into a calm rhythm, slow and steady, lungs flooding with oxygen. he breathes out through his nose.

”is that really such a bad thing?”

”it is.” a frown finds its way onto your lips. your reply is instantaneous. ”i don’t think it’s normal. i’m just…”

satoru listens. patiently, feeling your fingers grip onto the edges of his shirt — comforting yourself with the soft fabric. then you sigh.

”i don’t know. i just can’t, like…” you grapple for the right word, moving your hands haphazardly, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. ”comprehend how much i love you.”

satoru bites back a smile. 

(his heart flutters, flutters, flutters, like cherry blossoms on a windy spring morning.)

before he has the chance to, you part your lips again; speaking in a soft voice. resigned, he thinks. ”it’s just weird. it’s not exactly bad, but —” 

you bite down on your lip. 

”... it’s scary.”

a soft coo buzzes in your ear. satoru can’t help but pull you closer, closer still, smothering you in the warmth of his embrace. conveying what he knows will be too much for you to hear in words — what he knows he couldn’t convey in the language that you speak. you feel warm, still burning up a bit. like a little firefly. 

he isn’t faring much better, though; a vague heat blooming under the skin of his nape. smiling so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt.

(what on earth did he do to deserve you?)

a firm jaw settles on the top of your head. satoru parts his glossy lips, voice flowing out somewhat breathlessly, affectionate as can be. 

”don’t you think i feel exactly the same about you?”

his pulse trembles against you. when you strain your ears, you can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat, mingling with your own; still resounding in your ears. 

”… i dunno.”

satoru’s hold around you tightens, ever so slightly. something in the way he cradles you, strong arms around your waist, a low hum accompanying the light squeeze of his limbs. he can’t see your face, from this angle, but his pupils still flicker downwards — hungry for a glimpse of your expression.

then he smiles. 

”i’m terrified of you, y’know?”

you blink. once, then twice, eyelids fluttering. a moment of silence passes.

”… huh?”

”beyond terrified, actually,” his smile builds into a grin. ”i’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it. no one scares me more than you do.”

satoru pulls away, just a little, just enough to finally get a good look at you. your eyes are brimming with confusion. a large palm goes to cradle your cheek, and he tilts his head — inhaling a breath.

”i love you so much that it hurts.”

…

a soft chuckle slips from out his lips, when he catches your flustered, wide-eyed stare. sneaking a hand towards the small of your back, leaning in to press a kiss against the apple of your cheek.

”i adore you,” he whispers, smooth syllables melting into a purr. you stiffen under his touch. his fingertips trace the lines of your jaw, lips trailing down to your neck, chaste and sweet as he nips at the sensitive skin. muttering under his breath. ”you have no idea.”

and you truly, truly don't. satoru doesn't think you even know the half of it. 

you can’t possibly know what you mean to him — that your very presence makes him forget who he is, what he has to be, a weight on his shoulders he grew used to long ago. you can’t possibly know that just the feeling of your hand in his makes the distance between you feel so inconsequential. 

you are the most precious thing in his life. he doesn't think you could ever understand the weight that sentiment carries — he wouldn't want you to. 

and here you are, so awfully worried, because you're too in love with him. he still can't help but grin. you’re so sweet, so silly. the words make him feel as if his heart is crumbling.

”… i can't believe you’re real sometimes.”

something tender rests under the whisper. something frighteningly sincere. it makes you feel a little like you’ve been sliced open. it’s raw, it’s heavy and light and it’s love. it’s satoru — all his little inconsistencies, and the stability beneath it all. 

and some part of you knows that he's telling the truth. that he understands your ridiculous little confession, your embarrassing worries. satoru understands. 

that alone is enough to quell the turmoil in your chest. 

(what he gives you is a love as boundless as the sky; one that covers everything you could ever be. unconditional.)

”so there’s no need to worry.” 

he pulls back, lips leaving your skin. you still feel their warmth linger. his shades have slipped down, barely hanging on to the bridge of his nose, and you can see the blue of his eyes. they’re shining like jewels, soft around the edges. consumed by love.

”there’s no way you could ever love me as much as i love you.”

gazing into his eyes, as if hypnotized by their glow, your own gleam with a mesmerizing shine. glazed over with something sweet and wonderful, something satoru wants to burn into his retinas so he never forgets it. he wishes he could wring it out of you and put it in his pocket — but it looks prettier behind your cornea.

he savours the moment, slowly, until it abruptly ends.

with a second of pause, your brows draw together, forming into an irritated furrow. lips tugging downwards into a frown. ”that’s not true.”

satoru blinks. still smiling. 

”i love you way more,” you huff. petulant, almost, something soft and amused in your tone. he thinks the sound fits you more than anything; unburdened and stubborn.

(as charming as you are, though — this is one battle he refuses to lose.)

”nu-uh,” he pokes the tip of your nose, delighting in the soft flutter of your blinking eyelashes. ”i love you more. sorry, sweetie.”

a huff. ”you don't.”

”i do.”

”you don't."

this time, you're the one reaching out, the pad of your finger landing on the tip of satoru’s nose — teasingly trailing up to the bridge of it. his heartbeat stutters, but he feigns nonchalance, raising an unimpressed brow; eyes unknowingly gleaming with mirth. 

and mischief.

you barely have time to react. one moment you're seated on satoru’s lap, the next you're looking up at him with your back against the couch. he towers over you, keeping your hands pinned above your head with a single palm. 

a familiar chill runs down your spine.

”i do,” he grins, free hand reaching towards you. recognizing the danger of a situation you've been in more times than you can count, you try to squirm away — but you don't get very far.

satoru’s fingers ghost over your sides, and panic floods your wide eyes. 

even though you know exactly what’s about to happen, a yelp pushes past your lips when he begins to tickle you. mercilessly, fingers trailing over your most sensitive spots. all you can do is squirm, trying your damnedest to bite back the bout of laughter crawling up your throat —

but apparently neither of you are very good at that.

when the familiar cling of your laughter finally spills past your lips, flowing into satoru’s ears, his smile blooms into a grin. big and happy, childish in its innocence — not even attempting to hide his joy. his own giggles melt into your soft wheezes and desperate pleas, as you struggle to break free, straining against the firm hold he has on your wrists.

”i love you way, way, way more,” he continues to tease, halting his movement just enough to let you catch your breath. ”it’s not even close.”

even as giggles breathlessly spill from your lips, you manage a shake of your head. ”no, you —”

”wrong answer.”

he cuts you off with a smirk, and the torture starts anew. you can't get the words out, caught in your throat and muffled by a loud squeak, followed by forced laughter. satoru watches, in pure adoration, waiting for the moment you finally relent. 

it doesn’t take long.

”f — fine, fine!”

he stills. eyes crinkled, shades barely hanging on to the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to keep going. if only so he can hear your melodic giggles.

”can’t we —” you struggle to catch your breath, words stuck between bouts of leftover laughter. cheeks flushed and chest heaving. ”just call it a tie?”

satoru pauses. he drags it out, exaggerated, building up suspense. eyes narrowing playfully. ”hmmm…” 

then he smiles. a soft, resigned little thing. 

”alright, alright.” he leans forward, keeping you in place. ”that works, i guess.”

his lips meet yours. soft and glossy, tasting of cherries, exhaling a pleased sigh against your mouth. you’re still panting a little, but he doesn’t seem to mind. slow to pull away, with a drawn out mwah, grinning boyishly down at your disheveled state. he lets your wrists go free.

an unimpressed look is all you give him, quick to melt into a soft chuckle. 

”well, that’s that.” you push yourself up with your elbows, fixing your tousled hair. ”now we can forget this ever happened.”

satoru raises a brow. 

”oh, i dunno about that,” he purrs, voice ripe with mischief. a teasing glint flashes in his eyes, as he scrutinizes you, and it’s enough to have your face heating up again. the sight makes him coo. ”you love me so much you can't comprehend it, huh?”

you blink. it takes a moment for your expression to shift, from bafflement to embarrassment — but he thinks it’s all worth it when it does. barely restraining the urge to kiss you again.

”satoru…”

a giggle leaves his lips. reaching a hand out, he pinches your cheek. ”you’re cute.”

with a roll of your eyes, you swat him away; unable to bite back a smile. “quit it.”

”aw.”

he looks so smug. you can’t help but want to bite back, somehow — so you muster up your most shit-eating grin, a distinctly teasing lilt coating your sugar-sweet voice. 

”you love me so much that it hurts, huh?”

satoru blinks.

endearment blooms, in the depths of his cerulean eyes. he watches you carefully, awfully amused — thinking to himself that he must be rubbing off on you. what a scary thought.

”yeah,” he breathes, a sigh laced with sincerity. cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand, settling on the option he knows will fluster you most. ”i do.”

this time, you’re the one who blinks. once, twice, before letting out a groan — slumping against his broad frame. satoru chuckles, breathlessly, consumed by you; by every move you make. all six of his eyes aimed directly at you.

(if he gives you the sky, then what you give him is a love as steady as the ocean; one that’ll drown every bit of his sadness. unyielding.)

”can’t you ever just let me win?” you mutter, breathing in his cologne and tugging at his shirt. pressed up against him, on his couch, safe and secure. right where you should be.

he noses at your neck, pressing a little kiss against your pulsepoint. a quiet, quiet offering at the altar of your soul. ”nope,” he hums, smiling cheekily. 

”i love you too much for that.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Mine. || Simon "Ghost" Riley

For @glitterypirateduck's “GhostChallenge” writing challenge! I used the following prompts:

9. Alternate universe 100. You're Price, Gaz, or Soap's sister/brother 12. Brothers best friend trope 71. Reader or Ghost rescues the other from a bad date (but 'bad' is used very loosely) 34. Ghost in gray sweatpants. Just. Gray. Sweatpants. 90. Thigh riding 13. Car sex (also loosely) 48. "Is that the best that you can do?" 99. "You're mine."

Rating: E Words: 3.2k~ CW: smutty, thigh riding, no piv, no kissing, mean!Simon, toxic!Simon, fuck buddy!Simon, jealous!Simon, stalker(ish?)!Simon, possessive behavior. Tags: afab!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, rugby AU, friends with benefits/fuck buddies, unrequited feelings (or are they?), toxic-ish relationship?, lying, manipulation?, secret relationship, brother's best friend, creating/baiting jealousy. Summary: Ghost is a cocky, mean rugby player that you can't help but be pining over. But maybe it's not completely unrequited. OR Simon ruins your date with someone else because he's jealous. a/n: I had a plan. I executed said plan. Profit?

Having grown up in a rugby family, you were given little choice but to attend all of your brother's games, both as a wee lad, a young man, and, now.

You were there, with your remaining sisters and your mam, for every single one of Johnny's games, back from when he was a wee one that couldn't even do a proper tackle and would fall in the mud, to now, picked to join the national team.

This means, however, that you've spent your entire childhood, teen years and now young adulthood, surrounded by the lads from your brother's many teams, but, especially, the ones he met as a teen and made a lasting friendship with: John "Cap" Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, and Simon "Ghost" Riley, the bane of your existence.

Johnny's had them over for birthdays, holidays, sleepovers... Not to mention the times you've gone to pick him up from training and were allowed into the locker room, only to get an eyeful of too much bare skin on all those men as they paraded around half-dressed; in towels; in underwear, or even in less than that.

It became a matter of time until you gained someone's attention. No wonder, pretty lass like you, with your sweet smiles and playful quips... coming to pick up your bulky winger brother, of course you'd catch someone's eye.

Kyle Garrick is the team's Hooker... but he's also known as a manwhore, the town bicycle, or whatever you wanna call him. The lads all know that if they go out drinking, Kyle is not going home alone, and, worse, they know that Kyle could and would seduce their cousins, sisters, mothers, and girlfriends, if not kept in check.

That's part of the reason why Johnny nearly had a fucking aneurysm when he caught Kyle outside the locker room three days ago, with a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, looking down at you with a smug little smirk on those perfect lips of his.

He knew what was happening, the way Kyle was looking down at you, the way you were looking up at Kyle, smiling all cutely, backed up against the wall, while his own teammate put the moves on you and talked about taking you out, his free hand gently playing with the strap of the dress you were wearing.

Johnny, however, missed the way Simon, who was standing right behind him, stiffened up and bristled at the sight of Garrick flirting with you. You didn't though. You caught it as soon as Johnny cleared his throat next to you with a "Should I pull up a chair and wait fer ye to be done?". Simon's eyes were glued to you, his brow set, his jaw clenched...

That's what he gets.

Simon, whom you've had a massive crush on for years now, who you pine for, whose attention you crave... and who only ever comes to you for a quick lay...

Simon, who rolls over after sex and tosses you a towel while he's putting on his clothes, telling you to 'hurry up' so he can take you home.

Simon, who always stares at you like he's going to eat you whole every time he lays eyes on you.

Simon, who chugs half of the ice cold water bottles he's given during breaks in practice, and uses the rest to douse himself in water to keep himself cool.

Simon, who knows how your eyes always get drawn to his legs and his bulge in his uniform, and rolls up his shorts before doing lifts, just for you.

Simon, who comes to pick you up whenever you call him, tipsy, from some bar or club when going out with friends.

Simon, who sends you 'u up?' texts at 2 in the morning when he's drunk.

Simon, who scoffs and chuckles whenever you breach the 'us' topic.

Frankly, you're not even actually trying to get with Kyle, especially not with his reputation (nothing against him, it's just not for you), but you needed to do something.

You're tired of waiting around for SImon to get his head out of his arse. You're not a toy, you're not going to stick around and be 'friends with benefits' with him, except barely friends, and with little benefits.

He's getting what he fucking deserves.

You didn't anticipate, however, how upset Johnny would be at the idea of Kyle taking you out. In fact, it was poor planning on your end because from the moment Johnny saw you with Kyle, he attempted, multiple times, to convince you not to go out with him... And if the DMs Kyle sent you are any indication, he also tried to talk Kyle out of it.

On the other hand, Simon didn't once try to intervene. Despite the look he shot you on Tuesday, he did not in fact reach out to talk to you, even now, as Friday comes along and you stride into the restaurant, hanging off Kyle's arm...

There's nothing from him. No texts, no DMs, no calls, nothing... So you guess that it's done, over. He got the memo, finally...

Your phone starts buzzing inside your bag while you and Kyle are halfway through sharing your appetizers. Looking down at your phone, you narrow your eyes when you find Simon's number ringing.

Really? Now? You don't think so.

So, you hang up.

Only for it to start ringing again immediately after. Simon. Again.

Grunting, you end up picking up. "What?"

"I'm outside. Let's get out of here."

You're hyper aware, suddenly, that the host has sat you and Kyle by the windows overlooking the car park... And you can see a car with its headlights on pointing right at you.

"I don't think so."

"Then don't think. Just do what I'm telling you."

Bossy, as always, that's how Simon is. Everything is on his terms, never on yours.

"I'm having dinner." You fight him, as always. This push and pull of yours has been going on for three years now... And Simon always wins. It makes him cocky.

"Not with him you're not. So you better get out here before I go in there and embarrass you."

With a sigh, you nod. "Fine, I'll be right there."

Turning off the call, you turn to Kyle, explaining you have to leave. His brows knit together and he looks at you with puppy eyes, asking why, and, short of a proper explanation, you do the same thing you've been doing to Johnny for the past three years: you lie.

"Johnny said he got a bizarre text from our mam and he tried calling her and she isn't replying."

"She's on these new sleeping pills, so she might have just knocked out while watching telly..."

"But he's worried, and he's on the other side of town, so he asked if I could go home and check on her..."

And Kyle, as much of a manwhore he is, he's also a gentleman, and is one of your brother's best friends. If your mam might be feeling sick, he's, of course, driving you home and helping! He was raised right.

As you leave the car park on the passenger seat of Kyle's BMW, you're hyper aware of the familiar Range Rover trailing you down the road, always a couple of cars behind, but always there... always lurking.

You reach your childhood home in record time, and start fumbling for the keys inside your clutch while Kyle trails up behind you to the front door. "I think I've got this from here, Kyle."

"No way, I love your mum like she's my auntie, if she's not doing well, I'm here to help,"

"No, really, it's okay, I'm sure she's fine..."

"Love, really, I'm not leaving you like this, not before I make sure that she's alright-"

Suddenly, a large, pale hand comes to grip Kyle's shoulder from behind, Simon's eyes shining in the darkness of the night, barely illuminated by the light by the front door, before his full face reveals itself.

Like a Ghost. That's his nickname. Fast, stealthy, there when you least expect it. Both in the rugby pitch and out of it.

"Don't worry, mate, I've got this." Simon announces, causing Kyle (and you) to freeze.

"You're here too?" Kyle asks, seemingly surprised, just as the taller fullback player removes his hand from his shoulder.

"Johnny called me too. Was worried about her being alone if mam wasn't doing well," Simon says naturally, as if he isn't also lying through his teeth, though his eyes never leave yours, catching and not planning on letting it go.

"Okay... well..." Kyle says and looks back and forth between you and Simon, seemingly catching the weird vibe between you, before he nods. "I'll go home then. Text me?" He asks you. "We can have a rain check."

Gulping thickly, your gaze slowly moves back toward Kyle, and you nod with a soft smile. "Yeah, yeah. Of course." You say softly and move over to kiss his cheek, before watching Kyle go back to his car and pull off.

You're turning, keys now in hand, to unlock the door when one of Simon's large hands grabs yours, stopping you. "What are you doing?" He asks you.

"Going home?" You retort as you look up at him, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapped around yours, clutching lightly. "Ye can go now. Congratulations, you ruined my date. Yer work is done."

Simon chuckles and takes a step closer to you, tilting his head at an angle and regarding you with those dark, deep brown eyes of his, the same ones that always make you feel like he's trying to burn you with his gaze.

"That's cute that there, sweetheart." The Mancunian tells you before he lets go of your hand and pushes you along with a hand on the small of your back, away from your front door. "Get in the fuckin' car." He orders and uses his eyebrows to point at his jeep, his voice carrying the same strong tone that he reserves only for bossing his teammates around during practice.

You know better than to defy him. So you tuck your metaphorical tail between your legs and you nod, moving over to his Rover. He opens the door for you and helps you up by gripping a hand around your forearm, the other bumps you up by the back of the legs.

"How'd ye know where we were?" You end up asking once Simon has driven away from your street, your eyes locked on his as he drives, finally daring to take a proper look at him under the orange light of the street lamps you pass by.

Black hoodie, grey sweatpants, and some kind of running shoes. Those stupid bloody sweatpants... The same ones he usually wears when he shows up at your door, or you at his, or when he goes to get you from work or nights out...

You know he did it on purpose... To pick the most slutty outfit he has as he comes to break up your date with Kyle. The annoying grey sweats that hang off his lip, that hug his thick, muscular thighs, the ones that he never wears boxers under, to make sure you can catch the dick print in the fabric...

And his stupid blonde hair all spiked up with hair gel... It used to be brown, matching his eyes, but he bleaches it now, the idiot... You want to be mad at him, you really do... But when he glances over at you while he's driving, you can't really.

"Garrick's predictable," Simon says, his tongue spitting vitriol as he utters his teammate's name. You'd think he hates the bloke... and right now he might as well do. "Takes birds to the same 5 or 6 places every time. Your brother and I split up to cover half of them each." He explains.

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. "The two of ye have no right." You tell him, scolding him over interrupting your date. "I'm a grown woman."

"Right. That's what you told Johnny. Don't try to use that shite excuse on me." Simon tells you as he turns on the blinker and pulls over.

You haven't driven long. Less than 2 minutes. You could climb out of the jeep if you wanted to and walk home.

"It's not an excuse." You retort as you glare at him, keeping your arms tightly crossed over your chest.

"Right, because you want me to believe you really want to go out with Kyle? Or, let me guess, you 'can change him'?" Simon asks sardonically and laughs as he pulls off his seatbelt.

"I didn't say that." You retort. "I simply said that I can do whatever I want because I'm a grown woman.'

"No..." The blond says in a sarcastic tone. "You... did it because you wanted my attention... And you got it, sweetheart." He replies as he reaches over and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, his hands wrapping around your hip and back, tugging you over the gearshift onto his lap.

"I weren't trying to-" You reply, pushing back against his chest, but only half-heartedly, allowing yourself to be dragged onto him.

"Sure you were. But Gaz, really? Is that the best you can do when it comes to making me jealous?" Simon quips as he makes you straddle his left thigh, bringing you down to sit on it, the gusset of your panties pressed against the warm material of his sweatpants.

His stupid, muscular, hard thigh, the same one you can't help but drool over when you watch him in his tiny rugby shorts during practice and in the proper pitch...

You can feel the taut muscle, even through the fabric, the wait his leg flexes as you straddle it, the way he presses the weight of it against your core, and his fingers dig into your hip before dragging you back and forth.

You bite your lip hard to contain a moan, though he notices the way you're trembling, enjoying the look in your eyes, the way your body warms up, the way your back arches up. It puts a sick smile on his lips, one you wanna wipe off.

"It worked, didn't it?" You reply, trying your best to suppress the pleasure from showing on your face, and instead trying to seem smug. "You're here, right? Came to break up my date for a reason..." You say, clinging onto your little 'gotcha' moment...

Only for Simon to ruin it. "Oh that weren't jealousy, darling." He replies, his smirk beginning to grow into a proud, mocking grin, his dark brows rising and his cheeks puffing up with his smile. "I have no reason to be jealous."

Simon begins rocking you faster and harder against his hard thigh, causing you to whine and mewl, the pleasure building from the friction between your cunt and his thigh.

Your clit is slowly and steadily catching on the fabric, making you tremble and twitch atop him, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten as it always does whenever Simon starts playing with your clit like this.

"No, actually... Don't have a reason to be jealous about anyone." Simon replies as he leans toward you, pressing his nose against yours so he can properly look you in the eye. "Not Garrick... not Price... not any of those coworkers you're always talking about... nor your old uni mates..." He trails off.

"Simon..." You grumble, bucking your hips against him, wanting to chase your orgasm. How does he do this to you every time? Make you so horny, make you throw away all rationality, make you give in to him?

"I know, sweetheart, I know... Feels good, don't it?" The large man coos at you as he helps you rock against his thigh faster and faster, your hips stuttering and your legs beginning to tremble on either side of him as you steadily grow closer and closer to coming.

"You know what else I know?" Simon teases as he leans over and uses his teeth to nip at your neck and earlobe. "I know that I'll never have a bloody fucking reason to get jealous over you... because You're Mine." He tells you, his tone surprisingly authoritative.

There's something in that claim... the way he finally says the things you've wanted so badly to hear him say... Your climax crashes into you and you go limp against him, your head falling onto his chest and your jaw going slack as you moan incoherently.

"That's it..." Simon coos at you and gives you a couple of pats on your thigh, sliding his hand up over your ass, covered in a new dress you bought on purpose for your date with Kyle. Your cunt is throbbing inside your panties, your walls clenching around nothing and you know you've left a bit of a wet spot on Simon's sweatpants.

"You got off on that, huh?" He teases you in a mocking tone. "Been wanting to hear that for a while now, have you?" You can hear the smirk on his lips as you try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. He's so fucking mean...

"Piss off, Simon." You retort and pull off him, pushing against his shoulders with both hands and moving pack to the passenger's seat. "Take me home." You say in a huff.

"Of course, sweetheart." Simon replies, his voice still smug and a large shit-eating grin on his lips as he bites his tongue, turning back onto the street.

After Simon pulls over in front of your house again, you hop out, fixing your dress and stomping back toward the house, displeased with his behavior. With him using your feelings for him against him. With him.

His phone rings, echoing through the speakers in the Rover. The small screen on the dash displays Johnny's contact name as Simon is watching you frustratedly fumble for the keys inside your clutch again.

"Been to all three spots. Did you find her?" The Scot's voice comes through the bluetooth speakers as the Mancunian watches you, running his fingers over his thigh where you left a wet stain on his sweats.

"Yeah, mate. Been keeping an eye on them. Kyle didn't try anything and he just dropped her off at home." He replies, watching you for a moment longer.

"Thanks for lookin' out, mate. 'm going for a pint right now..." Soap announces.

"Cheers," Ghost says in a nonchalant date, watching you finally find the keys and open the door, heading inside and turning on the hall light. "You owe me one, had a date planned but spent my evening going after your sister."

"Yeah... yeah... I owe ye." Soap retorts. "Come out me with me, then, 'm sure ye can find a bird at the pub." He offers.

"Nah, mate, 'm knackered. Going to get a good night's sleep." He says and watches you turn to glance at him (or more so his car) through the open door before you turn away again and visibly huff, closing the door behind yourself.

Simon shakes his head, snickering under his breath and saying goodbye to Soap before hanging up the call and grabbing his phone to shoot you a quick text.

"Ur brother is @ pub. Let me in."

Then, he stashes his phone back in his pocket, not even waiting for a reply.

His eyes return to the door and wait patiently, just a couple of seconds go by before you're opening the front door again. Simon smiles seeing that, turning off his car and hopping out.

His girl is so obedient.

[ Ghost Challenge Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

#ikea writes 💚 #GhostChallenge #cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley #ghost #cod ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod smut #smut fic #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon “ghost” riley smut #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #rugby au #smut #simon ghost x reader

[undercoverpena]

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me you if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

#javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javi peña smut #narcos x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[jupiter-letters]

Having thoughts about Husband!Art and his hands...

A/N: A little fic this weepy eyed blonde boy, I watched challengers yesterday and I'm obsessed.I need Art like carnally. People being hot in movies is so back dude. This was written with a fem!reader(afab, no other physical description will be written) in mind. This is my first attempt at smut so go easy on me I beg.🙏🏽

Word count: 1476

TW: Sexu*l content, f*ngering, reader just having a rough day in general.

divider cred || palestine links

One of the things that attracted you to your husband was his hands. The way his muscles in his hands tighten when he grips his racket, how he holds his coffee mug when takes a sip of coffee in the morning and the way they glide against your skin when you make love.

After having a difficult day he'd like to put those hands to use for you as he so often loves to do....

You walk into your home and make a beeline toward your bathroom, you need to get the grime of the day off you. You don't even notice Art on his laptop on the couch, he was about to greet you before he saw the look on your face. He just watches you kick off your shoes and drop your bag on the floor. You always greet him when you get home but he can tell it's been one of those days. He shuts his laptop off and the tv then makes his way to your bedroom. He spots your scattered clothes all over the floor and hears the roar of the bathtub's spout coming to life.

Art leans up against the door to hear what you might be doing, he hesitates before knocking on the door. "Baby?" The sound of running water stops and he hears a small tired voice answer, "Come in.." He opens the door to the sight of you naked and bare, head down in front of the mirror. He looks at you for a moment and turns his eyes to the floor as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. You turn your head toward him but avoid his eyes, he doesn't force you to meet his gaze.

  Art moves behind you in silence and touches your shoulders just to test the waters of how much you're willing to be touched at this moment. You accept it, not moving away but not leaning into it. He wraps his body around you and kisses your shoulders. He kisses up to the  back of your neck. "You wanna talk about it?", he asks as you take a moment to answer such a simple question. You just shake your head, still silent, you do turn around and look up at him. He looks into your eyes, a silent understanding takes over him. "Ok." He whispers, Art moves over to the bathtub and turns the knob back on. He goes to the sink cabinet and grabs some bubble bath. He pours some of the liquid in the water and glides in his hand in the water to make sure the temperature's perfect for you. Once the tub is full you step inside and breathe a sigh of relief. The sweet smell of the bubbles and the warm water expels the tension from your body. Art kneels next the tub, he crosses his arms over the rim and lays his head on his forearms. He gives you a small smile and you return it, you both gaze at each other in quiet admiration. Art takes a hand and caresses your knee with such tenderness, the feeling of his lithe fingers brings you such comfort.

 He moves his body forward and moves his hand further down your thigh looking at you for permission to keep going. You nod your head looking at him expectantly wondering what he was planning to do. Very slowly he slides his hand into the water in between your thighs, eyes laser focused on his own actions. You can feel him gently part your folds, using his index and middle finger to stroke your clit. He moves them slowly up and down, ghosting your entrance. Art looks back up at you when he hears you gasp quietly, he smiles again at the sound. “You want some more baby? Don’t worry I’ll give it to you, I’m gonna take care of you.” he purrs at you, but you won’t get what you want so quickly, he lives to tease you. He adds more pressure to your bud and rubs in more circular motions. Your breath quickens and you lull your head to the side pressing against the tub's rim. He stops for a moment just to move closer to your head so he can kiss your cheek and move onto your lips. You position your body closer to his head and crane your head to taste his lips more. Art continues stroking your clit, rubbing and pinching it between his fingers. He swallows every gasp, groan and whimper you make, stretching the muscles in his neck as far as he can to reach your mouth. The sensation of him touching you and the heat from the water has covered your body in a light sheen of moisture, everything about you is so wet and pliant. He finally feels that you’re ready to take his fingers, he stops kissing you. He wants to look in your eyes as he slides them, he wants to see your mouth part and hear a raspy moan slip from your lips. 

 There’s nothing Art loves more than the look of dazed bliss you get when he’s inside of your body. As he prods your entrance he watches you closely, “Sweetheart look at me…” ,he murmurs. You look up at him, hungry and waiting, the moment you do he slides his fingers eliciting a high pitched moan from you, mouthing widening in pleasure. He continues his slow pace, you can feel the metal of his wedding ring brush up against your lips as he pushes his fingers deeper. He leaves kisses all over your face before returning to your lips, smiling into the kiss. He opens his eyes for a moment to see your legs writhing and clenching around his hand when he curls his fingers every so slightly. The sight makes his arousal even stronger than before, a small wet spot makes its appearance in his sweatpants.  He wouldn’t even need to touch himself, the sight alone of you slowly reaching your peak is enough to make him cum all on his own. The tension in your core continues to build, Art notices you shuddering and finally lets you have what you want. He puts his fingers in as far as he can and makes a scissoring gesture along with curling them pressing into your g-spot at random. As he does this it becomes harder to focus on his mouth devouring you and mind begins to go blank. You grip your hands onto his forearm and shoulder to anchor yourself. He angles his head to kiss the underside of your jaw while he increases his pace. The water in the tub starts to move violently as your body shakes and your legs thrash. You make the attempt to kiss Art again but are overwhelmed by the sounds that escape your mouth, he lets you moan into his mouth keeping his eyes closed and savoring the sounds. One final beckon of his fingers sends you over the edge, tilting your head back, orgasm rippling throughout your body. Art nuzzles his nose against yours and presses his forehead to yours. 

It’s a full minute before he pulls his fingers out of you, when he does he drags his hand up and over your stomach. Between your breasts and glides up the side of your neck, he takes his thumb and caresses your lips before sliding them into his mouth. He smiles down at you and giggles. You laugh with him, “What?” you ask curiously. “I was supposed to help you get clean, not sweaty,” he says with a grin. You laugh again at his statement, “Well…it doesn’t matter, I do feel better now.” He smiles and kisses your forehead, he moves over to the towel holder on the wall and grabs one for you. You wipe some of the suds off you before you stand to be embraced by him with the towel. While he holds you, you notice he’s still hard. You look at him surprised, “You want me to take care of that?” He looks down as if he forgot too. “Oh! No baby it’s ok, I wanted this to be all about you, don’t worry about me.” he tells you softly. His statement makes you soften even more, you step out of the tub next to him. You take the towel from him and wrap it around yourself. “Thank you Art, I mean it. I really needed that.” You take his face into your hand and kiss his lips. “Of course, these hands aren’t just good at tennis y’know. You can use them anytime you want.” he replies smugly. You jokingly push his face away and make your way out of the bathroom looking back at him with a smile. He follows close behind and shuts the door behind him.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff. ♡

#tw: nsft #~⋆｡°tales from the dreaming #art donaldson x reader #challengers x reader #mike faist x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x black!reader #black!reader #challengers 2024 #art donaldson fic #art donaldson imagine #jupiter-letters

[leovenuslatina]

AFTERCARE⭒ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

!!!!THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI!!!!!!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

HOW YOUR FS TAKES CARE OF YOU AFTER SEX?

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

pile one - king of cups , the hanged man

🌧️

shower you with love and affection they’ll be so in love with you afterwards you know post nut clarity? yeah they are the exact opposite after they nut they’re gonna be like so hazy and like so highly in love with you like covering you in kisses worshipping your body and telling you sweet nothings about how pretty you are and much they think you’re beautiful and goddess like. it’s like every time you two make love they fall more and more in love with you if that’s even possible. your FS is extremely helpful they’ll wanna get you snack and drinks i see them even ordering food and just like being super useful and attentive to anything you need. depending on what y’all did 🫣 they’ll be very quick to clean up any mess like deadass it might get wicked in the bedroom for y’all 😈 i’m seeing the two of you guys are definitely kinky. they’ll want you to literally do NOTHING ! immediately after sex they treat you like you’re literally made of glass or like you’re their delicate little flower 🌸🥹 they’re soooooooo helpful pile 1 omgz like if you have to pee they’ll lit carry you to the bathroom. if you want to clean yourself up they’ll literally draw you a bath like they loves to being so sweet to you. i’m getting they kiss you all over they really want to make sure you are always safe and comfortable your happiness is always their biggest priority !! i cannot stress enough how much your happiness makes them happy :)

extra messages- king, satisfaction, clean girl vibes, cookies, desserts 🍮, soft pink , 333

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

pile two - ace of pentacles, six of swords

🗡️

right off the bat y’all be i’m the bedroom going games asfff. either one or both of you really likes it rough i mean there’s no holding back for the two of you i’m talking degradation kinks spankings idk y’all might even do some wax play ! after your wild ass sex sessions their after care for you is top tier their main focus and goal is to just calm you and make sure you’re hearts not beating so fast lol. afterward they’re so thankful 🥲 they think they won the lottery with a lover like you you’re hands down so beautiful to them and the two of you are so compatible when it comes to kinks and your sexual desires they know how lucky they are to have you in there mind you’re the best sex they’ve ever had !! they may have a little of experience under their belt so they know what they’re talking about and you’re the most incredible person they’ve been with. they get this giddy excitement when the two of you are finished he feels like he’s winning for life because you’re such an angel. after having sex with you your FS is just so stuck in his mind about how lucky they are to see you naked and how much they hope they hope they made you feel as good as you make them feel. i’m seeing them mainly bringing you water applying any creams and immediately just falling asleep dreaming about you 💤.

extra messages - white sheets, late nights, travel, hotels, luxurious, mental clarity

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

pile three - King of wands , knight of pentacles

🧁

you’re just so so spoiled rotten by your FS i’m getting they give hippie vibes like i’m seeing you have hella candles lit and there might even be soft music playing. after they’re all about deep breathing and they might even ask to meditate with you 🥺. this is another pile that gets really rough and crzy so he spends lots of time being so sweet and affectionate with you. their the type of person that may be dominant so taking control is their strong suit and whatever you need they’re there to fulfill your every one. they’re very good and attentive when it come to caring for you at the end of your wild night i think the two of you might even have a specific set schedule for every time he’s such a huge softy for you you don’t even have to ask for things they already know what exactly you need they’ll rub you down with oil or bring you tea or wash you down in the shower anything to relax you more for sleeping. they will be extremely patient with you afterwards because he know how much he puts you through 😉 i think they’re just a gentle genius when it comes to your body and you pleasure they have taken their time to get to know exactly how to take care of you and they live for it 💖.

extra messages- lenny kravitsz, long hair , reds and orange, grunge aesthetic, boho vibes

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

pile four - four of wands, seven of cups

👼🏾

you’re princess you’re an angel i know this is a future spouse reading but after y’all fuck they be ready to marry your ass AGAIN !! there’s literally no words for this pile they are so enamored with you. aftercare for the two of you is filled with cuddling and kisses and smiles and hugs and laughs i love this couples energy so much 🥺 the two of you are literally love bugs fr. aftercare is also filled with lots of questions about how they did? and how you felt ? and how they can make you feel even better next time ? i’m seeing your FS is a little insecure about their performance they are just sooo eager to please you because you are their god/goddess. pile 4 your FS LOVES YOU so so much they literally can’t contain themselves asking questions giving you kissing questioning if they did a good enough job or not. everything about you is perfect to them and they genuinely appreciate you so much. aftercare 4 the two of you is so dreamy ☁️ and romantic 💘 i’m also getting the two of you are like very horny even after sex so the two of you might even go for another round 🤩🤩

extra- clouds , green light, sweating, soft kisses, pillow talking , in love , they like you more

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

#black tarot readers #leovenuslatina #latino tarotblr #tarot #daily tarot #pick a card tarot #tarot cards #tarotblr #pick a pile #future spouse #tarot love #love tarot free #love reading #love tarot reading #love tarot spread #tarot pac #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot reader #tarjeta #tarot readers of tumblr #channeled reading #pick a card reading

[chvoswxtch]

hi my love, my sweetness!! congrats again on 4K you deserve it so much and I love youuu!!

I know the cafe is technically closed but I thought maybe if I flirt a bit with the owner, who’s such an amazing lovely person who writes excellent fics, I thought I might be able to order a drink or two (only if there’s time and of course fine if not<3)

so could I order a macchiato over ice for Frank or Hotch. how would they be/react if they saw you in their clothes? I think both are so territorial and like daddies and if they saw you just in their sweatshirt or jacket or whatnot in a completely innocent situation they’d lose it. Let’s not even get started on at home or bedroom related

love you thank you for sharing your writing with us <333

SWEET BABY D!!!!

oh i've missed you so. thank you so much my sweet. you can order anything you want <3

sjdkshdsjkd do you know how absolutely feral hotch would go if he came home after a shitty week & saw you wearing one of his dress shirts bc i'm going feral just thinking about it so let me paint you a lil picture

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

aaron hotchner likes you in his clothes

let me set the scene for ya. it's been a long week for our bau daddy, dealing with narcissistic psycho killers & keeping all his kids in line (the rest of the bau), & the frustrations are high when he finally steps off the jet. he doesn't even stay back to handle the mountain of paperwork waiting for him, that's how fed up he is

when he finally makes it home, it's well after midnight, & he's so tired he doesn't even wanna take a nice hot shower like he usually does to unwind. he just wants to fall into bed & let the exhaustion take over

but when he passes by the kitchen, he instantly freezes, bc there you are standing by the counter, having a lil midnight snack (eating ice cream straight out of the tub), wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts. and when I say nothing, I mean hotch can tell you are wearing absolutely nothing underneath

his eyes quickly darken with pure lust & his cock is already half hard when he stalks over towards you with determined steps

the spoon is still in your mouth when you notice him, a smile stretching across your lips around it before you lick off the sweet remnants & slip it out of your mouth

"hey, how was the c-"

you don't even get a chance to finish that sentence bc hotch cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck to capture your mouth in a heated kiss & he does not hold anything back as he pushes you up against the counter

his kiss is aggressive & needy, & the muffled moan that escapes you tastes delicious on his tongue. his fingers make quick work of unbuttoning the few buttons you'd had done, but he doesn't push it off your shoulders. oh no, he wants you to keep it on

his hands roam over your newly exposed skin, greedily grabbing at your breasts to squeeze them roughly, his thumb & index fingers toying with your sensitive nipples knowing it'll get you all riled up for him, & the sounds you make let him know it's working

he grabs your hand & guides it to his belt, & without hesitation you follow his silent command, your nimble fingers unbuckling it while he sheds his suit jacket & tie

in a flash he swiftly spins you around & bends you over the counter, bunching the bottom of his shirt up around your hips, & he spreads your legs further apart with his foot

he wastes no time pushing forward, burying his cock deep without warning, his hand quickly covering your mouth to contain your sharp moan. his other hand has a bruising grip on your hip as he leans forward & hisses in your ear

"be quiet."

the sensation of your warm, tight walls completely enveloping his cock makes his brain go blank. he can't focus on anything else other than how good you feel. he immediately begins snapping his hips, fucking you hard & fast while grunting in your ear

with every powerful thrust, the stress & tension built up in his body from this week starts to fade, & the pleasure rapidly builds. even though he's chasing a much needed release, he's not selfish, so he slips his hand between your thighs & begins to strum swift circles over your clit with two of his fingers

he lets out a quiet, wrecked groan in your ear when he feels your pussy start to contract around him, the muffled moans against his palm only heightening his arousal. as badly as he wants to hear you fall apart, he doesn't wanna wake up jack

when he feels your body seize up as you come, hotch squeezes his eyes shut & lets out a strangled groan, gripping your waist tightly with both hands as his hips start to stutter

"fuck fuck fuck."

he comes hard, spilling deep within your snug walls, emptying himself completely. the way your cunt continues to contract around his cock milks him of every drop he has to offer, & it makes him let out a shuddering breath

placing both of his palms down on the counter to steady himself, he buries his face into your hair, panting heavily. if he wasn't exhausted before, he sure as hell is now, but he's definitely more calm. a breathless laugh leaves your lips before you speak

"well, hello to you too."

letting out a breathless chuckle of his own, hotch smiles & wraps one of his arms around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your neck

"sorry, hi."

reaching one of your hands back to caress his face with your hand, you hum softly with a grin

"missed me that much, huh?"

leaning into your gentle touch, hotch's smile turns into a full blown grin

"always. but I have to say, I love your choice in pajamas tonight."

glancing down at yourself, it clicks that seeing you in his shirt is what set hotch off, & a devilish smirk spreads across your lips

"i'll keep that in mind. sir."

in conclusion if you hear screaming from across the world it is me

#court's 4k followers celebration #court's 4k friends celebration #court's cafe #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner headcannon #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner request #criminal minds #criminal minds headcannon #criminal minds smut #criminal minds request

[norr1ssturni0lo]

meet my girlfriend

Matt sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 2,294

warnings: couple spelling mistakes, a couple swear words, lots of fluff (a bit cheesy😅), italics = flashbacks

summary: Matt and childhood friend Y/N announce their relationship on his personal channel.

A/N: Matt is 18 in this fic and reader is 17 as said in fic!

❗️semi proof read❗️

Matt sets up the camera on the dashboard, his best friend of 12 years and girlfriend of 2 years in the car seat next to him. Matt hears Y/N let out a sigh, he looked to his side and saw Y/N looking nervous. 

“It’ll be fine my love. The fans already love you, announcing that you're my girlfriend won’t change that, I promise.” Matt says, grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles in a comforting manner. “We don’t have to tell the fans if you don’t want to darling. It’s completely up to you.” He added on as he lifts her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 

“No, I want to do it. Just some silly nerves that’s all.” She replied, intertwining their hands and smiling at Matt. 

“You ready?” He asks. 

“Yeah, press record.” 

Matt hits record and started to talk to the camera, his hand still intertwined with Y/N’s. 

“Hey guys, welcome to my personal channel, where I will be posting content without Nick and Chris. I won’t post as often on here, but I will try my best.” Matt starts with a little laugh before continuing.  

“For my first video on this channel, as you could probably guess by the title, I’m going to introduce you to my girlfriend, she’s a girl that many of you will be familiar with and if not then she’s about to introduce herself.” He added on, Matt gestures for Y/N to introduce herself, she gives a little wave and smile to the camera. 

“Hi everyone, most of you already know me but for those of you who don’t, hi, my name is Y/N and as Matt said, I am his girlfriend. I’m 17 years old, unfortunately I’m still in high school unlike Matthew here” she points to Matt and he lets out a little laugh at her dislike for high school before she carried on introducing herself.

“I just started my senior year, and like the triplets, I am from originally from Boston and I have known the triplets since I was in second grade and they were in third grade I think, is that right?” She looked over to Matt for confirmation to which he nodded. 

“Yep. She’s been in our lives since we were 8 and she was 7. She’s known us longer than Trevor!” He jokes, the couple chuckled together at his random fact. 

“Anyway, today, in honour of announcing our relationship, we’ve decided to answer some questions. I posted a question box on my Instagram story and we’re just going to scroll through and answer some of them.” Matt states. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up Instagram and clicked on his story to see the questions. He read out the first question. 

“Okay, first question is ‘how did you guys meet?’ you wanna answer it Y/N/N?” she nodded before answering.  

“So, I actually met Nick first out of the triplets, mine and Nick’s science classes got merged one day because my teacher was sick and me and Nick got paired for a project together. Me and Nick became friends and one day he invited me to his house after school, and that’s how I met Matt and Chris, and we were all inseparable ever since. I constantly got them mixed up until they were about 14.” she replies, Matt and Y/N both smiling at the memory of how many times she got the triplets mixed up. Matt handed his phone to Y/N to read out the next question. 

“Okay next question is ‘who made the first move?’ Matt surprisingly, made the first move, I’ll let him tell the story of how it happened.”  

“So, it’s a pretty cliche story, but we were at a party for our high school’s sports teams and cheerleaders which we both had to be at since she’s a cheerleader and I was on the lacrosse team. Me, Chris, Nick, Y/N and a few other people were playing spin the bottle and it was my turn to spin and it landed on Y/N. At this point I’d had a crush on Y/N since we were in middle school, but I just never ‘had the balls to do anything about it’ as Chris would always say to me.” He rolls his eyes, remembering all the times Chris had tried to get Matt to tell Y/N how he felt. He carried on telling the story.

“So obviously, me and Y/N kissed and then the day after at school, I left a note in her locker asking her out on a date, obviously, she said yes to the date and low and behold, 2 years later, here we are. Pretty cheesy but, hey, what can you do about a man in love?” He shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk on his face. 

“Fun fact, I still have the note to this day.” Y/N stated proudly, looking at the camera. Matt looked over at her shocked. 

“You do?” He asked, looking at his girl in pure adoration. She looked at Matt and nodded her head, smiling at him. She handed him his phone back so he could read the next question. 

“Okay, next question ‘what are you lockscreens on your phones? and what is the story behind them if there is one’”  

Y/N pulled out her own phone and Matt locked his so that he was ready to show his lockscreen. She turned her phone around and showed her lockscreen. (a/n: pretend it’s Matt😭)

“Mine is a picture of Matt from a couple weeks ago. Me and the triplets went to the safari park, and I got this picture of Matt looking at the map and trying to figure out where one of the rides were and thought it was cute.” she smiled at her lockscreen before turning off her phone. 

*flashback to safari park* 

Y/N giggled as Matt looked at the map in his hands, confusion evident on his face. The four of them were stood in the middle of the path, Matt trying to figure out how to get to the log flume. 

“Matt c’mon mannnn” Chris complained. Nick rolled his eyes at his younger brother.  

“Baby, do you need help?” Y/N asked. Matt shook his head. 

“Really? Cause you’ve been looking at the map longer than Nick was looking at the elephants.” she chuckled, and Chris laughed along with her, Nick had spent ten minutes staring at the elephants earlier that day. She walked over to him and looked at the map, trying to help him.  

“I got it, I got it, gimme a second.” Matt said. Another minute passed of Matt looking at the map, looking adorably confused with a little smile on his face, Y/N thought he looked absolutely adorable and quickly took a picture before Matt laughed to himself and smiled as he looked at his brothers and girlfriend.  

“I got it! It’s this way.” he pointed in the direction of the log flume, and they all made their way to the ride. 

*end of flashback* 

Matt turned on his phone and showed his lockscreen to the camera. (a/n: again, pretend it’s y/n and Matt😭)

“Mine is a picture that Nick took of us in the car about a month or so ago. We were going on our annual family trip and as always, Y/N came along with us, and we were parked at the gas station and I noticed Y/N had fell asleep on me and Nick saw and took a picture of us and sent it to me and it’s one of my favourite photos ever” Matt spoke. 

*flashback to the family trip* 

Y/N and Matt were currently sat in the very back on the car with Nick. Chris, Trevor and Justin sat in front of them, and Marylou and Jimmy were sat in the front seats. They were parked at a gas station filling up the car and Y/N was falling asleep with her head in Matt’s lap, sharing headphones with him and Nick was sat on his phone. 

“You tired baby?” Matt whispered, looking down at the sleepy girl in his lap. She let out an incoherent mumbled reply. 

“Look at this TikTok!” Chris said loudly, turning around to face Matt and Nick. Matt shushed him.  

“Y/N’s asleep Chris be quiet!”  

“Shit! sorry, look at this TikTok though” Chris repeated, much quieter. The boys collectively laughed quietly at the TikTok he’d shown them, Chris turned back around and showed Justin the same TikTok. 

Matt moved a piece of hair out of Y/N’s face, smiling at his sleeping girl. Matt was unaware of Nick looking at the couple with a soft smile of his own on his face, he’d always been their biggest supporter ever since they told him about their relationship. Nick quickly opened his camera on his phone and snapped a picture of the couple and immediately sent it to Matt, the younger brother opened the message and a grin automatically grew on his face. 

“Thanks man, I love this photo” Matt spoke as he set the picture as his wallpaper and sending it to Y/N, so she also had a copy of the photo. Nick smiled.  

“Of course, I’m your personal photographer.” He joked and the brothers softly laughed before going back to doing their own thing waiting for Jimmy to get back in the car after filling it up. 

*end of flashback* 

Y/N put her phone back in her pocket and Matt passed her his phone to read the next question.  

“Aww this one is cute ‘what is your favourite memory with one another?’ I love this question” she smiled.

“my favourite memory with Matt is probably last Christmas when Matt woke me up around 4 in the morning because it was snowing so much and he just couldn’t wait to go build a snowman, this kid literally had a jacket and coat and my shoes ready for me and just woke me up.” They both started laughing at the memory from last Christmas and Matt hit his head on the steering wheel as he leaned forward laughing, causing Y/N to laugh even more as Matt held his head in his hand.

“Laughing at my pain, I see how it is missy.” Matt exclaimed, he reached over the center console of his car and started tickling her sides causing the younger girl to yelp out and tears started streaming down her face as he continued to tickle her. 

“Okay I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Y/N shouted, out of breath, softly chuckling as she held her hands up in surrender. She passed Matt’s phone back to him.  

The couple continued to answer questions and laugh with each other replaying memories from as early as their childhood to as recent as last week.  

“Okay, final question, this was asked by quite a few people ‘what is your favourite thing about each other?’ We’ll do one physical aspect and then one personality trait, okay?” Matt spoke and Y/N nodded in agreement before Matt continued. 

“My favourite physical thing about Y/N has gotta be her freckles, I’ll admit that I have caught myself counting the freckles on her face before while she’s been asleep” he admitted with a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“My favourite thing about her personality wise is how persistent she is. I’ve seen her get into heated debates with Nick over the most random things and most of the time she’ll win, and I could honestly sit there for hours watching them argue back and forth, it’s so funny” Matt adds with a laugh and he smiles in Y/N’s direction. 

“It’s true, I’ll never let up if I think my opinion is right.” She said laughing with him. “Anyway, my favourite physical thing about Matt is probably his smile, his has got to be my favourite smile ever!” She said proudly, the blue eyed boy next to her stared at her with a soft expression and a wide smile on his face as she carried on talking.

“My favourite personality trait of Matt’s is how attentive and kind hearted he is, like I remember before he made this channel, we were sat on the couch together and he said he wanted to make this channel to help people who may be struggling with mental health like him and to make it a safe space for everyone. And he’s just such a genuinely great guy and nowadays, that’s pretty hard to come by and I couldn’t be more thankful for him. I can confidently say, I can see Matt being the guy I marry when I’m older.” she finished talking. He smiled at her for what felt like the millionth time this video, his cheeks started to hurt from how much she made him smile. 

“I love you baby” Matt spoke, planting a kiss on her cheek, her cheeks flushed.  

“I love you too Matt. So much.” She replied, smiling at the boy she’d been in love with for as long as she could remember. 

“I hope you enjoyed this video guys, we both enjoyed filming it. We love you. Stay happy and stay smiling.” Matt smiled at the camera and Y/N blew a kiss to the camera before he stopped recording. He put the camera down and looked over to Y/N 

“Did you mean that baby? About me being the guy you’d marry?” He asked her, his eyes full of love. She nodded with a smile on her face. 

“Of course, my love. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. You’re my person” she replied. 

He stretched over the center console and placed a kiss on her lips, both of them smiling into the kiss. 

“You’re my person too darling. I’ll marry you one day I promise.” 

And he did.

They got married a few years later.  

A/N: Lowkey was inspired by @imwetforyourmom one shot that was like this. Hope you don’t mind me stealing your idea ahah🫶🏻😅

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x fem reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #christoper sturniolo #nick sturniolo imagines #nick sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagines #nick sturniolo x bsf!reader #sturniolo x reader #tumblr fyp #youtube #fem!reader #matt sturniolo angst

[golden1u5t]

fun fact | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: spencer's innocently spitting out random facts but he doesn't understand that he's turning you on without even trying.

spencer's sitting on the opposite end of the couch while innocently playing with the rubik's cube he'd picked up off your coffee table, he's spitting out all the things he knows about the small toy while doing so. you were sitting in front of him and watching him intensely while he played with the toy, your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth as you watched him.

"also, it took the creator over a month the solve it after he first made it, which is kind of funny considering he's the one who made it." he lightly laughs as he thinks about it, his fingers turning another side of the cube before he looks up at you. "are you okay? you've been pretty quiet."

"no, it's just- are you trying to turn me on right now? because it's working." your eyebrows furrow slightly. a pink tint finds its way to spencer's cheeks and he looks down to hide it. you untuck your legs from underneath you and make your way into his lap, you place your hand under his chin and guide his head up so he'd look at you.

listening to spencer talk was something you loved doing because you liked hearing about all the random things he knows and because his voice always got that fire starting in the pit of your stomach, if you were being honest.

"that wasn't my intention." he mumbled, his cheeks getting redder by the second. you took the rubik's cube from his hands and gently tossed it back on the coffee table before cupping his face and kissing him. it took him a second to get over the initial shock before he started to kiss you back, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest.

spencer wasn't really sure why he was so shocked by your behavior since you've told him before that you love when he rambles, maybe its just because he never had someone actually like to hear him talk. a part of him actually likes it though, he likes that he's able to talk for however long he wants without being interrupted or shut down.

he pulled away from the kiss to give you both a chance to catch a breath but you were having a hard time tearing your lips from his body, you placed your hand on his jaw and tilted his head to the side so you'd have more room to kiss his neck.

"let's- do you want to go to the bedroom?" he breathed out, his lips parted and his eyes fluttered closed as you lightly nipped at his heated skin. you could feel his cock getting harder by the second and you were sure your panties were absolutely drenched by now.

"no, i want you to take me here. wanna feel your mouth, spence." you replied before trailing your lips up his jaw and back to his lips, the kiss was nothing more than a quick peck. you slid off his lap and situated yourself back in the spot you were in before, you opened your legs so that he could slot between them.

spencer lowered himself onto his stomach and flipped your skirt over your hips, he placed his hands on your thighs as he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to your clothed clit. you reached down and ran your fingers through his hair while he pulled your panties to the side. usually he would've taken his time with you, lightly nipped at your inner thighs or traced his tongue over your pantie clad cunt to get you worked up, but he knew that being teased was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

your hips jerked forward as he ran his tongue through your slit, his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs and a soft whine fell from his lips at the taste of you. spencer moved his tongue from your clit to prod at your entrance, his eyes flickered up to your face so he could watch your expression when he finally pushed his tongue into your cunt.

just like he was waiting for, your eyebrows scrunched together and you bit down on your bottom lip. his eyes closed once more as he finally started to drag his tongue against your walls. you tugged at his hair to pull him closer even though he was already as close as he could get, your head falling back with a soft moan when you felt him start to move his tongue in the way that always had your legs trembling.

"right there, spence. that feels so good." you whined and started to rock your hips against his face. the feeling of your cunt starting to close around his tongue and the sound of your moans had him moving a hand from your thigh to start palming himself. spencer's jaw had started aching a while ago, honestly, but the pleasure he got from feeling you start to cum on his tongue overpowered that pain by a lot.

eventually, spencer pulled away from your cunt but not without placing a soft kiss to your clit. as he sat up he pushed your panties back over your cunt and pulled your skirt back down.

you reached up and swiped your thumb over his bottom lip, wiping your slick from his face. "god- i love that mouth of yours."

#golden1u5t #myrarants #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

[cameronspecial]

Helping rafe to use a fleshlight🫦

Helping Hand

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT and Sex Toys

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

A/N: I didn't research for this and an info video for a fleshlight had me giggling. Like, tell me why it has erectile dysfunction aid.

Masterlist

Rafe wasn’t a prude. He liked to fuck just as much as the next guy; however, before Y/N, he had never used sex toys. His arrogance made him think that only guys who couldn’t get it up would use them. 

She, on the other hand, loves the tools that can help heighten the pleasure for both of them. So she has been working toward getting him to bring the toys into their sex lives. It began with having him watch her use a vibrator. She used it to stimulate her clit, but when it came to penetration, Rafe stopped her and brought her to her release himself. The next step was being able to use a dildo to penetrate herself. It took everything in him not to take it out of her and throw it out the window. As she used the imitation dick, he got turned on by the sight. Maybe, letting her use the toys wasn’t so bad. 

Rafe’s upcoming business trip has her scanning an adult toy website she can use while she is away. Her eyes land on a particular object and it catches her interest. This could be the perfect next step in her plan. 

———

The night before his trip, he is folding clothes to pack. She tip-toes into the room in her purple silk nightgown that he leaves and her hands are behind her back. Déjà vu comes over him. He is familiar with this view. He rests the pants in the suitcase with a sigh, “What am I going to watch you fuck now? Is it one of those full dummy things? Please tell me it’s not that, they freak me out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. Her hair falls over her shoulders as she does. “Nope. Actually… it’s something for you,” she confesses, raising her hands to reveal the toy. His eyes narrow at the object. 

It’s a black cone-shaped object. One end is rounded and the other is flatter with a bump as well as a red scoop-shaped thing attached to it. “What is that?” he questions. She steps forward with a bashful smile, spinning it around so he can clearly see the end with the scoop. “This is a fleshlight. One of the best on the market, Baby.” She hands it over to him so he can inspect it. He identifies the bump as an imposter labia and clit. In between, folds is a hole and looking inside of it shows tiny bumps. He moves on to the red scoop, which also has the same bumpy surface as the inside. “It’s a fleshlight,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck to place a kiss on his lips to butter him up. His eyes widen and he throws it onto the bed. “No, no way. I’m not using that.” She pouts and plays at the hair at the base of his neck. “Aww, come on. I bought it just for you, with my own money. Are you telling me you aren’t going to use my gift to you, Baby?” she whines. She looks up at him through her eyelashes and bats them in the way she knows gets him to do anything for her. 

His bottom lip nestles between his teeth and he surrenders. “Fine. I’ll try it out.” She jumps up with small claps of her hand, “Yay! I promise you’ll love it. It will make phone sex so much better.” He doesn’t say anything and just strips down. He settles onto the bed with his back against the headboard. His head tilts to the corner of the bed across from him and she hops on. She rests her feet under her bum, spreading her legs so he can see her pantie-less pussy. “I wanna watch you use it.” 

He obeys. His hand grabs the toy and he spits into his hand to help with the friction. After he rubs the saliva over his shaft, he replaces his hand with the toy. The silicone feels strange against him, unlike the warmth and wetness he is used to. It doesn’t feel pleasant, yet it doesn’t feel amazing either. He pumps himself a few times while staring right at her. He quickly gives up and throws the toy to the side. “There I tried it and I don’t like it. So, can you come here to take care of this,” he whines. She plays along, crawling over to him and throwing her legs over his hips. When he reaches down to line himself up, she leans over to his bedside table and pulls something out. She straightens up and shows him the bottle of lube and a remote control. “That’s because I was hiding one final piece of the puzzle.” She pours the liquid on his length, cupping it to spread it all over. Then, she guides the fleshlight onto him. He moans at the re-entry. She reaches between them and places his balls onto the red silicone.

She shifts so she is straddling one of his thighs and presses a button on the remote. It begins to vibrate. The intensity near his balls and tip has him thrusting slowly upward. She smirks at the motion. This is working. His eyes flick to her vagina and she begins to ride his thigh. Her moans add to his enjoyment and he doesn’t bother to hide his anymore. His hips speed up, causing her to giggle. “If you think this is good, wait until you feel what happens when I press this button,” she teases. Her finger hovers over it before applying pressure. The trinket works on its own to suck him into its grasp and the bristles brush against him. “Oh,” he lets out, grabbing onto her waist to give him something to do. She lets him help her move, “See, you like this.” 

The muscles in the Adonis belt spasm and she knows what that means. She presses the button three more times, speeding up the pace of the toy. His thumb falls to her bud and he circles it at the same speed. She collapses onto him with her forehead against his shoulder as they are both brought over the edge. They both pant in silence while they come down from their highs. She leans back to look at him with a grin, “So, what do you think?” 

“I think that maybe it doesn’t hurt to have a helping hand.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron smut

[uzurakis]

hi hi it’s me again!! (yes I’m the nonnie w/the stalker request + ‘my friend thinks ur cute’ request :3) I’m here to request again!! reckless!reader with jjk men (yuta n Megumi yk the deal 🙏🙏) + bonus points if reader hides their injuries too! maybe reader was on a mission; got injured and didn’t tell jjk men, or reader was playing around on a frozen lake not giving af and it begins to crack, or reader straight up doesn’t look both ways while crossing the street n act like they have 9 lives (yuta ptsd fr 😭), or anything you wanna come up with :3 do what you like!

HIDING YOUR INJURIES FROM THEM?

featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji.

n. i sure know the deal my beloved meguyuta nonnie (imma call u dat instead). i decided to go with the first idea of yours, i hope that’s okay!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you returned from a challenging mission, your body aching with every step. despite the pain gnawing at you, you plastered on a smile as you entered the room where megumi was waiting. he looked up, concern etched across his features.

fushiguro megumi has the term ‘worry’ in his vocabulary. he immediately called out, "you…” without saying any ‘hey’s or ‘hi’s, you were able to cut him off with your response. 

"it went alright, just a few scrapes," you replied, trying to downplay the severity of your injuries

but megumi wasn't fooled. his brows furrowed as he approached you, his eyes scanning your form. “you’re lying,” megumi grabbed your wrist firmly as he looked straight into your eyes. "those 'scrapes' look more like serious wounds," he said, you could literally hear him edged with frustration.

you swallowed, guilt creeping into your chest. "i’m fine," you confessed, avoiding his gaze and breaking free from his grip.

megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "you're injured, and you’re still trying to hide it from me? seriously?" he scolded, frustration becoming more evident.

“fine then.”

he looked away, and you felt a twinge of regret at the way he responded. but then there was a change in his attitude. as he reached for the first aid kit, his demeanor softened and his irritation vanished. silently, he whispered, "let's get you patched up," megumi’s voice was soft yet stiff.

as he tended to your wounds in silence, the tension in the room dissipated. his touch was tender, his movements careful as he bandaged your injuries. when he finished, he looked up, green pupils meeting yours.

"you make me worry, you know that?" 

ITADORI YUUJI. you stumbled through the door, trying to hide the wince as pain shot through your side. itadori was waiting, his eyes lighting up as he saw you, but then furrowing with concern as he noticed your slight limp.

"baby, you're back! how did it go?" he asked.

you forced a smile, trying to brush off the pain. "good, thank god it was just a second grade curse," you replied, hoping he wouldn't see through your facade.

your boyfriend, though, remained unconvinced. "are you sure you're alright? you’re limping.”

you hesitated, but his genuine concern melted away your resolve. you felt bad for keeping it from him, but at last you said, "well, there might be a small injury, but it's nothing serious." 

instantly, itadori's expression softened, and he wrapped you in a tight hug that made you let out a small ouch. "don't hide these things from me," his breath warm against your ear. “let me help you tend your injuries, baby. do you need shoko or just an aid kit?”

GOJO SATORU. the mission had been tougher than anticipated, but you knew gojo would worry if he saw how badly you were hurt. so you played pretend and hoped it would be enough. gojo was lounging on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, his usual smirk playing on his lips. his eyes, hidden behind his pitch black glasses, seemed to twinkle as he looked up at you. "oi, you're back earlier than i expected."

you nodded, keeping your movements slow and controlled. "yeah, managed to wrap things up quicker than i thought." he tilted his head, a curious glint in his eye. "really? no trouble at all?"

"none," you lied, forcing a laugh. "just the usual."

gojo's smile faltered, just for a second, but you caught it. he stood up and sauntered over to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "hey, you know," he began, voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone, "i can see right through you, babe. you're hurt."

"i'm okay, satoru. really."

he reached out, gently but firmly taking your arm. "don't lie to me." his fingers brushed against a particularly sore spot, and you winced despite yourself. “look?”

"satoru, i didn't want you to worry—“

he cut you off, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still without causing more pain. "hm, too late for that, baby," he said with a mix of irritation and concern. "let me take care of you."

you sighed, realizing there was no point in hiding it anymore. "okay, but just... be gentle, alright?"

he led you to the couch, his touch surprisingly tender as he helped you sit down. "i'm always gentle," he teased, but his eyes were serious as he examined your injuries. "you should've told me right away."

YUUTA OKKOTSU. he eyed you for a moment, his smile fading slightly. "babe, you alright? you seem a bit... off."

"just tired. it's been a long day." you waved a hand dismissively, nothing to worry, you wanted to tell him that.

yet, yuuta's gaze still lingered on you, eyes narrowing slightly. "alright," he said slowly, "if you say so."

you made your way to the bathroom, trying to move naturally despite the pain. you thought you had managed to convince him, but as you stood in front of the stall, trying to remove your clothes without aggravating your injuries, the man appeared in the doorway.

"let me help you with that," he said softly, moving to stand beside you.

you blinked, surprised. "yuuta, really, i'm fine. you don't have to—”" then he gently took your hand, eyes full of concern. "please, let me help you tend your wounds, babe.”

thinking again, you hadn't said anything about being hurt, but somehow he knew. "how did you..”

your boyfriend smiled faintly. "i could tell. i know you too well." his fingers brushed lightly over a bruise that was starting to show through your shirt. "you don't have to hide it from me."

you sighed, feeling a mix of relief and resignation. "i just didn't want you to worry."

yuuta shook his head, his expression tender. "i worry more when you try to hide things from me. so don’t do it again, you hear me, babe?”

@uzurakis

#.writing #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori fluff #yuuji x you #yuuji fluff #okkotsu yuuta x you #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta fluff #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #toji x reader

[thebimbopalace]

❛ WHERE DO YOU WANT IT !? ❜

↻ featuring: k. nanami, s. gojo, s. getō, t. fushiguro

⟢ blurb: where the jjk men like to release their desire fluid on you. (hcs w/ drabbles attached)

contains — fem!reader, explicit content (mdni), foul language, feminine pet names, p in v, husband!nanami, mating press (nanami), unprotected, oral play (gojo), whiny gojo (maybe? idk), heavy bāll sūcking (gojo), mastūrbation (gojo), light masochism (gojo), backshots (getō), one spank, tīt fūcking (toji), reader has big chest in toji’s, use of lūbe, dirty talk

☆ — KENTO NANAMI

sweet sweet kento. *dreamy sigh* he’d cum inside you. without a shred of a doubt. even with a condom on, he's finishing inside. in his mind, why pull out of something that makes him feel so good? something so warm and eager for him.

and since you both said i do, that fact has become more apparent. the night before your honeymoon, he tossed the package of condoms straight into the trash (not before you said it was okay of course). the thought of cumming in you with no barrier has his cock already standing up.

"sweet — sweetheart, fuck, you're gonna make me cum quick if you keep it up," kento's raspy baritone hits your ears as his long, deep strokes move in and out smoothly from your gushing cunt. your acrylic nails scrape down his muscular back in ecstasy leaving red marks in their wake, marks he wears like a medal of honor.

the deep digging of his cock in your warmth has blood pumping to your ears creating a block to any outside noise. the only thing your fucked out brain registers is the orgasm climbing up your core for the umpteenth time tonight. his sizable hands set at the bend of your knees, pinning you to the mattress while your ankles dangle by your ears as if they're expensive earrings.

plap plap plap, the sound of his heavy, cum-filled balls slapping against the puckered ring of your ass adds to the state of euphoria you find yourself in with your new husband. groans and growls vacate kento’s throat at the way your tight gummy walls latch onto his twitching cock greedily. “god d-damn hun, ‘m gonna cum, where—” you cut him off, “in ken, in me pleaseee,” you whine.

he obeys. his hands at the bend of your knees tighten as ropes of hot, sticky cum fill your womb. the feeling of his bulbous tip spurting cum inside you tumbles you into your climax, rapidly clenching around his cock to drain him dry. “ahshit baby, ‘s so much. you don’t mind bein’ full, do you hun?”

☆ — SATORU GOJO

your face. no question that’s where satoru would cum. he’d paint you with his fluid anywhere but, when he sees the milky white on your beautiful face . . . it damn near makes his cock hard again.

such sensitive balls. such suckable balls. the way you lap, slurp, and suck on them as he fists his cock would make this man so damn whiny and needy for release.

"keep — mmfuck — keep suckin' 'em baby. i-i wanna cum, make me fuckin' cummm," satoru's deprived whines bounce off the walls in your shared apartment. his giant hand strokes his cock ferociously, white brows knitting together as his pink bottom lip is caught between his pearly white teeth. the embodiment of pure bliss.

red lipstick marks litter the pale skin around his cock and balls evidence of your plump lips kissing, worshipping his well-endowed package. those same plump lips currently wrapped around his sensitive undercarriage, juggling them in the wet cavity of your mouth. long licks, sharp suckles, lewd slurps attacking his cum jammed sacs ripping whimper after whimper out of your snow-haired lover.

"fuck, fuck, fuck! — baby mmm, shittt, you got my cock leakin' soooo much with that," his whines tumble from his slick lips as the bulbous tip of his cock drips precum onto your forehead and hair. normally, you’d be upset about the mess he’s making on your locks but, he’s so adorable like this. such a whiny, pathetic boy. the way you suck on his balls like you’re trying to suck peanut butter through a capri sun straw has satoru’s toes gripping the carpet below.

crimson paints satoru’s cheeks as a dribble of drool slowly slides down the side of his mouth. “hngh! baby baby baby, ‘m close. a little more, drain me, drain my cock of all that fuckin’ cum,” his hand speeds up on his pulsating cock, the thick vein on the underside of it twitching with each flick of your tongue on his tender balls. you nip the supple skin of his sac with your teeth — the pain-pleasure mix knocks satoru right into a euphoric state.

white ropes of semen decorate your stunning features as satoru’s back arches off the back couch cushions. “ohf-fuuuck princess, look at that, mmm that hot cum dripping all over that pretty face. makin’ — haah — makin’ my balls ache.”

☆ — SUGURU GETŌ

hmmm . . . your ass. suguru would adore your body during backshots. the arch of your back, the way your face would be smushed into the sheets, and the way your ass would hit his hips with lewd slaps.

and the icing on the cake (get it?) would be when he splatters his off-white cum all over those plump cheeks. the way it drips down your rear towards your thighs or the ring of your ass makes him want to empty his balls again.

"oh yeah beautiful, this pussy's jus' swallowing my dick huh? she won't let me go, greedy cunt," he groans with each piston of his cock inside your warm, tacky walls. suguru’s hands are glued to your hips, thumbs planted on the two divots on your lower back, while his pelvis rapidly beats against the fat of your ass. he reaches so deep inside you. but you and him both know that he could go even deeper.

as your face is smushed against the silk sheets, back arched like a cat stretching out after a nap, you uncurl your shaky hands from the steel grip they had on the sheets placing them on your ass. you maneuver your hands to spread your rear cheeks apart granting suguru more access to drive his girth further inside you, effectively splitting you open. “gods, look at you, baby. perfect little thing,” he grunts feeling more inches sink into the hot, sopping cavity of your pussy.

obscene wet sounds inhabit the heady atmosphere making your body flush with excitement as well as embarrassment. you're dripping. your arousal thoroughly soaking his cock, balls, and the silk sheets will always have him ready to burst like a balloon. your pitchy moans mix with the vulgar squelching of your cunt as if you're trying to make beautiful music. “shshsh my lover, your pussy's tryin' to talk to me. let her speak,” he smirks as his mitt of a hand pushes your head into the mattress to quiet you down.

each plunge of his cock into your warmth has your cunt talking to him — a full-blown conversation consisting of suguru's growls and your gooey slick. pleasure overtakes your senses making it impossible to keep your hips stationary. you slowly start to move your hips back to meet his but the utter intensity of his movements has your hips stuttering. “s-suguuuu” you whine, almost screeching. a firm smack crashes onto your ass cheek as suguru's tone turns demanding. “no whining beautiful. fuck me back c’mon, fuck that messy cunt back on me. ‘m close to cummin’.”

you obediently oblige, your ass smashing into suguru's pelvis with the impact knocking the wind out of his lungs. his hands find a home atop yours to keep your rear cheeks spread far apart. your moans grow into squeals as your climax hits you like a ton of bricks. suguru glances down and catches a glimpse of your asshole winking speedily from your orgasm making his release catch him off guard. suguru swiftly pulls his throbbing cock and splatters your ass cheeks with his steamy off-white fluid. “mmshiit baby fuck! so fuckin’ sexy with that ass covered in my fuckin’ cum.”

☆ — TOJI FUSHIGURO

tits, and i will die on this hill. it’s a well-known fact that toji is a big tits lover. the ample flesh of your breasts will always get him on stiff. even if they do nothing but sit pretty in your top. if your cleavage is shown, he's twitching in his boxers.

the debauched nature of his thick seed drizzled all over your soft mounds is an image that will be seared into his brain for all eternity. one that will play on repeat whenever he's away from you and needs to quick release.

"you look so fuckin' pretty, doll. look at how those tits jus' eat up my cock, fuckin' hell." toji's restraint is on strings. the view under him is to die for. you sprawled out on your back, your plump chest cupped by his rough hands as his quivering cock glides between the warm crevice. it's too much to bear seeing you like this.

his burly form above you glistens with sweat as droplets slide down the raised rigid muscles of his abs before getting lost in the tufts of dark hair that formulate his happy trail. his thrusts are steady with the undertones of neediness shining through with each rock of his hips. his once ink-blue eyes now black are blown with raw lust as he watches beads of his translucent precum pool in the dip between your collarbones.

a naughty smirk works its way onto toji's face at the wetness that’s collecting on your skin. one of his hands leaves your breast which you swiftly replace with yours to maintain the friction that muddles toji's mind in irreversible ways. his thumb dips into the small puddle of precum, coating the pad of it. “open,” he commands. your kiss-bitten lips part, your pink muscle peeking out just enough for toji to smear his essence on your awaiting tongue.

the primal side of him wants to make a complete mess out of you. to see those pretty eyes of yours widened when his actions contain vulgarity guaranteed to make even the most sinful woman blush. his free hand deftly rummages through the open drawer of your nightstand grabbing the bottle of water-based lube. flicking the cap open with his thumb, toji begins to squeeze an excessive amount of the gel onto your plush mounds. “keep ‘em together doll,” he urges as the bottle is discarded.

the added lubrication fosters a feeling of euphoria in toji's already hazy brain. “god, fuckin' tits feel so good around my cock. should've fucked them ages ago,” he babbles, feeling his orgasm gain speed. with each snap of his pelvis, you feel his impatience. to help topple him over into the pits of bliss, you peek your tongue out once more. only this time, you point the tip of it and prod it against his crying slit, which does the trick. with a loud, guttural groan, toji frees his cock from in between your breasts and spills his viscous semen with each jerk of his hand. “ahfuck! got me cummin’ so hard jus’ from those fat tits baby, shit yeah.”

2024 © thebimbopalace — please DO NOT copy, change, or repost my works on any other platform. All rights reserved to @ thebimbopalace

#✎ᝰ. ( signed your majesty ) ! #nanami kento x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk fic

[zebuie]

SACCHARINE * ୭̥⋆*｡

[𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒]; dealer!ellie x fem!reader

ㅤ→ READ THIS. ⨳ DAILY CLICK

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒:; your friend insists you join her in a party, and you go along not expecting much but little do u know….

[𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒]; thank u SMM for 100 <3, not proofread, 3k words woops, reader is sick 🤧 (I relate.), swearing, pet names, degrading, strap sucking (e receiving), strap sex (r receiving), eating out (e & r receiving), fingering (e receiving), cum eating (e & r receiving), Ellie calls the strap her dick/cock, aftercare.

Dina was standing over you as you lay in bed, covered in used tissues. "Come onnnnn—You need to go to the party tonight. It's going to be so much fun, and you love parties! Plus, it's been days since you've gotten out of bed, and like I'm kinda worried about you y'know."

you looked at her, nose running and eyes watery. "But I'm so sick," u groaned.

Dina persisted, "Pleeeaaase? It's going to be a blast, nd you never know what could happen. You might even meet someone new or just have a great time! n' don't worry, I'll make sure you have the best time ever. Just say yes."

You sighed and thought for a moment. Despite your illness, you secretly wanted to go to the party. "Fine fuck, okay. I'll go," you mumbled weakly.

Dina's face lit up with excitement. "Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you! " she squealed happily. "I know you won't regret it. Let's get you all dolled up now cmon,"

You groaned inwardly, knowing that getting ready would be a challenge in your current condition. However, deep down, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, this party could be the distraction you needed to lift your spirits.

Dina started gathering your clothes and makeup, while you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and wobbled to the bathroom to get ready. Despite feeling like death, you made an effort to look somewhat presentable.

As you stood in front of the mirror, applying makeup half-heartedly, Dina came in with your  party attire - a shimmering dress and sleek heels. And She helped you put them on.

Once you were finally ready to go, Dina practically dragged you out the door. The party was just a short walk away, and the sound of music and chatter grew louder with each step. The night air felt cool against your flushed skin, making you shiver slightly.

As you stepped inside the party venue, the vibrant energy hit you like a wave. Colorful lights flickered and danced, and people milled about, chatting and laughing. The music pulsed through the air, the bass making your heart thrum in your chest.

Dina suddenly leaned over to you and whispered, "hey, I'm gonna go get some weed, wanna come with?" You shrugged and nodded, secretly relieved for a chance to get away from the overwhelming party energy. 

As you both made your way to her dealer—Ellie, Dina introduced you. "Ellie heyyy, this is my friend-" and before she could even finish her sentence: "No no I know who she is." She responded quickly. "Hi." You said awkwardly. Ellie smiled at you and then turned back to Dina. "Soooo what's up.." Ellie asked Dina.

 "We need some weed. Hook us up, please?" Ellie gave you a friendly smile and when you smiled back at her she choked on her spit."uh yeah yeah sure—Let's get you sorted." She said avoiding eye contact with you.

Dina and you followed her to a secluded corner near a makeshift bar, where Ellie discreetly pulled out a small bag of weed from her pocket. "Here you go," she said, handing it to Dina with a casual wave. You noticed her stealing glances at you as she spoke, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of attraction.

As Dina paid for the weed and left to get some drinks, you mustered up the courage to strike a conversation with Ellie. "So, you're the infamous weed dealer around here, hm?" you said playfully. Ellie chuckled and looked at you, a hint of shyness in her eyes.

"Guilty as charged." She replied, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Dina returned with the drinks and the three of you find solace on a cozy patio behind the bustling party. Ellie takes out a joint and lights it up with expert ease. The smoke swirls around you, filling the air with a musky yet sweet fragrance. As if by unspoken agreement, Ellie offers the joint to you first. You accept it gracefully, taking in the rich scent before taking a small drag and passing it to Dina.

As you pass around the joint, each of you taking turns to inhale and exhale, the tension between you and Ellie seems to ease. The weed adds a hazy yet enjoyable layer to the conversation, making even the simplest topics feel profound.

Ellie takes a hit and turns to you in between coughs, a cheeky grin playing on her lips. "So, what brings you to a party when you're sick, anyway?"

You chuckle, the weed making the memory of your illness feel distant and forgettable. "Dina dragged me here, actually. Said I should get out of my self-imposed exile." You glance at Dina, who nods enthusiastically, a grin plastered on her face.

Ellie takes another puff, her eyes gleaming with laughter. "Well, I for one am glad she did. I mean, look at us enjoying ourselves, weed and all."

The conversation flows effortlessly as you and Ellie exchange stories, each topic leading to another in a chain of stoner introspection.

As the joint makes its way round again, you and Ellie start to lose track of time. The weed has its full effects on you now, turning everything into a fuzzy, comfortable haze. Laughing and sharing stories, the conversation flows like a never-ending river. You notice Dina nodding off beside you, her eyes heavy with intoxication.

Suddenly, Ellie's fingers brushed against yours, sending tingles through your whole body. You look at her and share a smile. Maybe this party wasn't such a bad idea afterall.

"Hey, you alright?" Ellie asks as she notices your glazed eyes and slow speech. "You look absolutely baked."

You manage a lazy smile and a nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just feeling really damn relaxed. This weed is strong."

Ellie chuckles. "Well, it's not called weed because it makes you feel uptight."

You giggle, feeling a sudden wave of affection for her. It's as if the weed has lowered all your inhibitions, leaving only the raw, genuine emotions.

Dina stands up and stumbles a little, the mix of drinks and weed making her dizzy. "I think I'm gonna head home," she says, her words slightly slurred. "This weed has me feeling a bit too high."

You nod, understanding. "Be careful on your way home, alright?"

Dina waves a weak goodbye as she leaves to get an Uber. Now it's just you and Ellie, alone in the hazy aftermath of the joint.

You watch as Dina disappears into the night, then turn your attention back to Ellie. As if reading your mind, she suggests, "Wanna head back inside?"

You agree, and the two of you make your way back inside the party. The music is loud and throbbing, and the lights have turned into a dizzying, colorful display. You find a cozy couch and settle down, the weed still clinging to your senses.

You lean back into the cushions, enjoying the soft feel of the fabric against your skin. The buzz of the party fades into the background as you focus your attention on Ellie next to you. The world seems to slow down, and for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you there, trapped in a private bubble.

"So," Ellie says, breaking the silence, "how long did it take Dina to convince you to actually come out tonight?"

You laugh softly, the memory floating to the forefront of your mind. "Oh, she started pleading about a week ago. She's been on my case for days, saying I've been living like a hermit."

Ellie grins, chuckling softly. "Yeah, sounds like Dina. She really doesn't want you to become a recluse." She pauses, seeming to choose her words carefully. "You know, I'm glad she did manage to drag you out tonight. Otherwise, I might not have gotten the chance to meet you."

For a brief moment, silence blankets the air between you. The world outside of the couch fades into insignificance. All you can focus on is Ellie, her eyes locked with yours. 

You can feel the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

And then, without a word, you lean in, your lips meeting hers in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

You pull away from Ellie, your heart racing as you gaze into her oh so beautiful eyes. 

A soft smile lingers on her lips as she breaks the silence. "We should probably head somewhere more private." She gestures towards a dimly lit corridor that leads to various rooms beyond the party hubbub.

Without a second thought, you nod enthusiastically, taking her hand and leading her towards the door closest to them. Inside, shadows envelope every corner with only moonlight seeping through the barely-there curtains casting eerie patterns on the walls. The cool air in here contrasts nicely with the warmth of Ellie's body pressed against yours; making everything feel intensely personal and intimate. 

Her scent fills your senses while you deepen their kisses; tangled hands carding softly through each other's hair. 

As you continue to kiss passionately, your hands start to wander; undoing each other's buttons and zips with eager fingers. Soon enough, clothes are discarded in a messy pile on the floor as you stand there—your bodies exposed and vulnerable before one another. 

Your eyes never leave each other's as Ellie reaches behind her back, unfastening the clasp of her belt. A soft chuckle escapes her lips when she sees the surprise etched across your face at what she reveals next: a strap on harness tucked under her pants all along.

Ellie grins, stepping closer and running her fingertips along the curves of your hips. "Wanted to catch you off guard." She teases gently. 

With a sudden movement, she slips out of her harness; revealing a thick dildo nestled between her legs. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she beckons you forward with an inviting finger. 

Ellie runs her fingers through your hair, pressing down on your head just enough to guide you closer until your lips brush against the silky surface of her dick. "Get down," she murmurs huskily, her breath hot against your cheek. You obey without hesitation, leaning forward eagerly; closing your eyes as you take the dildo into your mouth. She moans softly at the sight and feeling of it; running her hands through your hair while slowly rocking her hips—pushing herself deeper into your waiting throat.

Your tongue swirls around the head of her dildo, teasing and flicking it with a tantalizing rhythm. Ellie's moans grow louder, becoming more urgent as you take pleasure in exploring every inch of her toy; making it glisten with your saliva. 

She begins to move faster, thrusting harder against your mouth—her hands tightening their grip on your hair. You can feel the tension building within her, each deep push bringing them closer to release.

As Ellie begins to move in time with your movements, the strap of her harness rubs against her sensitive clit with each thrust. 

The sensation sends a wave of pleasure coursing through her body; pushing her closer and closer towards climax. 

Her breath hitches in your ear as she whispers, "Suck harder." You comply without hesitation, increasing the suction and using your tongue to tease every inch of the silky shaft before you. 

Your actions have an immediate effect on Ellie; moans growing louder and more urgent as she nears release. With one final surge forward, she shudders violently—her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave while you continue to suck eagerly; savoring every drop of her sweet essence that seeps from between your lips.

Once Ellie's climax subsides, she gently pulls you away from her cock; guiding you to your feet. Her eyes glow with desire as she moves towards the headboard of the bed, sitting down and positioning herself for what comes next. "Get on top," she commands in a sultry voice that sets your pulse racing. You obey eagerly, straddling her lap; feeling the cool air against your wet folds before slowly lowering yourself onto her waiting dick. The sensation is intense but pleasurable—your body adjusting to accommodate its thickness and length within you.

Ellie's hands grip your hips, guiding you as you adjust to the size of her strap-on. Her voice is low and rough with desire when she speaks, "you love this u dirty slut..being filled by my dick hm? don't you?" She pumps gently into you—each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moan softly in response; lost in a haze of lustful submission. "Say it," she commands again, her tone more insistent now. 

"Tell me how much you want this cock."You gasp for breath as words tumble from your lips, fueled by the intense sensations coursing through every inch of your body. 

"I need this... I want your dick so-so bad.." Your voice is barely above a whisper; full of longing and degradation that only heightens their passion even further.

Ellie growls deep in her throat; loving the sound of your surrender. 

She begins to pick up speed, pounding into you harder with every thrust. Her hand snakes between your legs—playing with your clit while she ravages you.  "such a whore," she breathes out, her eyes locked on yours as he drives deeper into you.

 "A dirty cum-slut who needs my cock hm isn't that right?.. " The taboo words fuel the fire within both of you; making it impossible to hold back any longer.

Your body shudders as pleasure rushes through you; waves of bliss crashing over you like a tsunami. Ellie feels your muscles clamping down tightly around her dick, knowing that it's only a matter of seconds before she pushes you over the edge. She groans loudly—her own release close at hand as she continues to pound into your wet core.

"Cum for me," Ellie demands, her voice thick with desire. "Let me see you come on my cock." The words are like a match to gasoline—your body exploding in ecstasy as you shatter into pieces; waves of pleasure washing over you in an unstoppable tide. 

You scream out her name, your muscles clenching tightly around her strap-on as she pushes you further and further towards the brink of blissful oblivion.In the aftermath of your orgasm, Ellie slowly pulls out of you; leaving a trail of slickness behind as she stands up from the bed. 

She reaches down to help steady yourself before drawing you close into a tender embrace.

As you catch your breath in Ellie's arms, she gently pushes you away; guiding you down between her thighs. You eagerly bury your face against her wet folds, savoring the sweet taste of her arousal as you settle in for what comes next. 

Your fingers slip inside her while your tongue begins to dance around her clit—your actions making Ellie moan loudly and clutch at the sheets. "More," she whispers hoarsely—her body begging for relief from the intense sensations that are building deep within.

You lose yourself in the sensation of Ellie's heat and sweetness around your fingers, her flavors intensifying with each passing moment. Her breath hitches as she edges closer to release—your tongue tracing circles around her swollen clit while you pump your fingers inside her. It's not long before she lets out a loud moan, her body shaking with pleasure as she comes undone on your face.

You lose yourself in Ellie's warmth and flavor as you feast on her sweet pussy. One hand gripping her ass for better leverage, the other buried deep inside her wet folds. Her body trembles beneath you, nearing a climax that's been simmering just beneath the surface. She whimpers loudly, her legs wrapping around your head; holding you tight against her core.

You keep going at it, licking and fingering her like a woman possessed. Her moans get louder, and she's grinding against your face pretty hard now. You can feel her getting close, and you don't want to stop until she screams your name in pleasure. Your fingers move faster inside her while your tongue does its dance on her clit; making sure she feels every inch of attention you're giving her sweet pussy.

It doesn't take much longer now. Ellie's breathing turns erratic, and her body stiffens as waves of pleasure crash over her. You feel her pussy clamping down around your fingers, and she screams your name; flooding your mouth with her cum while you lap it up hungrily.

As Ellie comes down from her orgasm, she pulls you away gently; your mouth filled with her essence. She kisses you deeply—her fingers entwined with yours as she tastes herself on your lips. "God, that was amazing," she murmurs against your skin before running a tender caress down your cheek.

Ellie slowly sinks down between your thighs—her fingers running lightly along your swollen lips before dipping inside to clean you up. You shiver at her touch; lost in the pleasure of her soft tongue tracing every curve, gathering remnants of your cum and spreading them around for her to suck on. It doesn't take long before you're completely clean and she pulls away from you, a satisfied smile gracing her lips.

You cling to the sheets as she continues her tender torment, moaning loudly with each flick of her tongue against your sensitive bud. Her fingers intertwine with yours; pulling you closer until it's impossible to hold back any longer.

Ellie finally draws back; her lips swollen and wet from your taste. She kisses you softly, one hand trailing up to stroke your hair lovingly before she reaches over for a damp cloth. She gently cleans the remaining traces of cum from between your legs—her touch tender yet thorough.

Once you're clean, she presses a kiss to your inner thigh—her hands running soothingly over your body as she gazes up at you adoringly. "So beautiful," she murmurs softly before pulling you close for another embrace. Her soft lips brush against yours in a gentle caress that leaves you breathless; savoring the sweetness of her smile as happiness fills the air around you.

im so bad at endings ahahsjsj buttttt i hope u guys enjoy thissss 😁😁😆😆

#ellie tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #tlou hbo #joel and ellie #the last of us #tlou2 #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #ellie #tlou 2 #the last of us 2 #tlou ellie #wlw post #wlw #wlw ns/fw

[atelierlili]

I always wondered why Katniss factored marriage and children into the equation when it came to reciprocating Peeta’s feelings for her. It’s a rather large leap, especially when Peeta himself never expresses wanting children at any point in the story. He uses children as a tool to persuade Katniss and the Capital to save her life, but the only time we see him express any desire/feelings of having one of his own is when he’s crying after the baby bomb. But we never hear his real thoughts.

But you wanna know who does express wanting children? Gale.

It’s one of the first thing he mentions in chapter one. And it pisses her off so much.

(I also want to add that Gale reframes/establishes the dynamic of Katniss and him caring for their siblings from something that is sibling-sibling to parent-sibling. And he is not wrong. Katniss doesn’t refute him. Both Katniss and Gale are surrogate parents to their siblings. Which is also why Katniss love and affection of Prim, is not just sisterly. I’ve seen people say Katniss is only sisterly to Prim- but she’s not. She’s parentified their relationship to the point she subconsciously see Prim as her child, which makes this a tragedy because she’ll loose her first child no matter what she does by the end of the story.)

But Gale’s phrasing here elevates himself as a potential suitor to Katniss by placing them both as the parental roles to these children. (Which irritates her a lot ). Which is why she brings the topic up with her relationship with Peeta. Because she’s subconsciously aware of Gale’s efforts and knows it will be a point of contention between them. It hangs over her head in a way.

With Gale, children are extra mouths to feed. (But Gale will do fine. He can work. He can hunt.) It’s all framed with calculated survival in mind. But it’s also not something she had planned in the future at any point.

But Peeta’s children? Oh they deserve to be born because Peeta deserves to be a father. He would be such a good father. They deserve to exist in a world where they can be safe and happy. (Even if it’s not with her.)

This is also why I think she subconsciously sees Peeta’s baby as her own. And I don’t think of it as a cruel/heartless thing, it’s just you’d be more protective of your own child compared to someone else’s. Katniss sees Gale as a reliable person who’s equipped to look after a kid. She doesn’t express the same kind of maternal instinct/yearning for the Baby Hawthrone’s safety as she does with the idea of Baby Mellark, because she doesn’t think of Gale’s child as her own. She never hopes for a better future for them, but she does with Peeta because he and that baby gives her hope. And she loves him that much.

#I’m just rambling #sorry if it’s obvious from the get-go #but I just realized the whole Baby+marriage and Peeta is Katniss dragging her issues with Gale into her relationship with Peeta 🤣 #I don’t want to be mean #but Katniss does not give a shit about Gale being a father #she’s all like- yeah go find a partner #but I still want my hunting buddy #but Peeta??? #he should be a father (says nothing about finding another woman) and his baby deserves safety #she also doesn’t mention jealous with Peeta #but does with Gale (I wouldn’t be jealous. but me hunting partner…) #which yeah #she plans on dying #but she also blocks out the topic of another woman completely #because I think it would make her sad/jealous #everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #not tagging Gale lmao

[ophelisstuff]

pls do more cc and pb fics u write so good !!

VACATION WEEK | P.B x C.C x Reader

authors note ENJOYYYYY

requested by : anon

word count : 568

warnings : just paige and caitlin being dumb, a few curse words

So far, the vacation getaway with your girlfriends had been a living hell. Beginning to feel like a single mother constantly scolding two young children.

Weeks before summer break, Caitlin and Paige had brought up the idea of an island getaway for the three of you.

Claiming that it was the best way to kick off summer by spending a week on an island with each others company — and without argument you agreed.

Eager to spend time with your girlfriends who were always taken away from you due to their busy basketball careers.

You were ready to relax and enjoy your quality time with them. The three of you had even cleared your schedules out for a week to make room for the trip.

The days leading up we’re anticipating, making sure everyone’s bags were packed correctly and nothing important was left behind.

However, it all paid off once landing and witnessing the islands beauty — excitement rushing within you parting ways with the plane.

Deeply hoping that the sass both your girlfriends had to offer would fade away for just a week. Hoping there would be little to no room for their occasional disagreements.

Yet, as usual, you underestimated the two women. Because here you stood, arms crossed over your chest as you watched them argue over what to eat for lunch.

“I don’t want pizza - they probably don’t even have pizza! I want wingstop!” Paige argued with Caitlin.

The two growing annoyed with each other because no persuasion was happening — the disagreement was only deepening.

“Yeah well i’m pretty sure the chances of this island having pizza is higher than it having wingstop!”

All you could do was sit on the couch and watch the two disagree. Silently deciding on a solution that could bring their bickering to an end.

“Listen to me when I tell you this. I do not care. We’re having wings for lunch, Caitlin”

“No, we’re having pizza for lunch! you can have wings literally every day!”

“and you can have pizza every day t-”

“We’re not having either if you two keep this up” You interrupted, sliding your phone in your beach bag that held towels, waters, snacks and sunscreen.

Both the girls went silent, the disagreement being dropped as they exchanged dirty looks.

“How about a beach picnic?” You proposed, hoping they’d agree to the idea. Believing it would be more enjoyable with the ocean scenery in view.

Waiting for an answer, you watched as the two exchanged looks. Hopeful that your idea would end their ongoing argument.

“If there’s wings” Paige debated, Caitlin nodding in agreement.

“Oh, and pizza” The brunette added, liking the idea fully.

“You’re both so difficult.” You groaned, happy a solution had finally come into play. Ready to finally exit the hotel room and go enjoy the sunny day awaiting

“now, could you both go change into the matching bathing suits.” You asked from your position on the couch, needing them to get ready so you could head out.

“Oh my god - I don’t wanna match with her!” Caitlin exclaimed through a loud groan, unaware that her words would strike up an argument.

“Well I don’t wanna match with you either!” The blonde fired back.

Exhaling, you leaned back on the couch and allowed another disagreement to unfold. Watching as the two adults standing before you argued like a pair of children.

#paige bueckers x reader #wlw #anon <3 #caitlin clark x reader #iowa wbb #uconn wbb #caitlin clark x paige bueckers x reader #iowa hawkeyes #paige bueckers #caitlin clark #women’s basketball

[thisolrubyriderr]

gojo nation we MUST stick together so here’s some happy satoru

One thing you loved most about Satoru Gojo, aside from his many lovable qualities, was how much he loved being loved.

He loved they way you would indulge in his silliness, the way you’d get cuteness aggression over him, the way you’d stop whatever it is you’re doing just to cuddle him because god you just can’t get enough of him. Being the strongest was nothing but a side job when he was with you.

Gojo was snuggled up to you on the couch. His face smushed against your chest as you massaged your fingers through his fluffy hair. You could practically hear him purring like a kitten out of contentment. He was being a bit more of a baby than usual today, but you’d be a fool to act like you didn’t love it.

“Y/nnnnn,” the man whined as he turned to look at you with his pretty blue eyes, resting his chin on your chest, “Entertain me!”

You didn’t respond but instead you held his face in your palms and squished his cheeks. You kissed his lips as they poked out from his little face.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” He said in a muffled voice. He attempted to pout but it faded the second he heard your sweet laughter.

“I’m sorry bunny but I couldn’t resist. What do you want to do?” you said to him softly.

“I- ”

Before he could even begin his sentence, you squeezed him. You pulled this 6’3 man up closer to your face and squeezed him, pressing your cheek against his. You don’t know what came over you or what super strength you suddenly possessed to move your log of a boyfriend, but you did it.

You gently shook him as you held him in a bear hug. You placed sloppy kisses all over his cheeks. You bit him. You tickled him. He was just so adorable and you loved him so much. You wanted to fling him around like a chew toy.

“Baby whahaha what’s going ohohon?” Satoru giggled as you tickled him. His laughter was so sweet it made you wanna keep going, but you stopped so you could place both your hands in his hair.

“I can’t help it Toru! You just look like a little sweet potato! I love you soooo much I just wanna eat you.” You said, reveling in the sound of his purrs once you started playing with his hair again.

“Sweets you know I’d let you eat me any day. I’m sure I taste as good as I look.” Satoru smirked. He was soaking up all the attention you were giving him and he was absolutely loving it.

He rolled over on his back and you were now on top of him. You took your time to admire him in this position. He looked so at peace with you. You could tell he was happy, and that’s all you ever wanted for him. If you couldn’t give him anything, you’d do anything to give him happiness. To the world he was nothing but a weapon that wasn’t valued for anything other than his abilities. But you saw past that. You saw his soul, everything that made him a human. He was never the strongest to you. He was your Toru. He was your stinky. He was your mochi poo. He was just Satoru. And that would always be more than enough for you.

“Hey you,” he poked your cheek, bringing you out of your thoughts, “why’d you stop? Keep loving me!”

And who were you to deny him of what he deserved?

“Of course sweet pea.” You chuckled, pushing his hair back to kiss his forehead.

You continued to kiss his features, then lightly tracing them with your fingers. Satoru was so content and relaxed that he drifted off into a light slumber with a smile on his face, replacing it with a pout whenever he felt the absence of your touch. He may have known that he was a big baby, spoiled from all your love, and clingy as hell. But there was one thing he may not have known that you wished every day and night he did. What it was you may ask?

You would let the world burn for him.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #my baby deserved better #fuck you gege